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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ordeal of Richard Feverel + A History of a Father and Son + +Author: George Meredith + +Editor: Frank W. Chandler + +Release Date: January 5, 2011 [EBook #34858] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ORDEAL OF RICHARD FEVEREL *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Dianne Nolan, Louise Setzer and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<h3>THE MODERN<br /> +STUDENT'S LIBRARY</h3> + +<p class='center'>EACH VOLUME EDITED BY A LEADING<br /> +AMERICAN AUTHORITY</p> + +<p>This series is composed of such works as +are conspicuous in the province of literature +for their enduring influence. Every volume +is recognized as essential to a liberal education +and will tend to infuse a love for true +literature and an appreciation of the qualities +which cause it to endure.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>A descriptive list of the volumes published in +this series appears in the last pages +of this volume</i></p> + +<h4>CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4><i>THE MODERN STUDENT'S LIBRARY</i></h4> +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + + + + +<h1>THE ORDEAL OF RICHARD FEVEREL</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>THE ORDEAL</h1> +<h3>OF</h3> +<h1>RICHARD FEVEREL</h1> +<h3>A HISTORY OF A FATHER AND SON</h3> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>GEORGE MEREDITH</h2> + +<h5>EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION</h5> +<h5>BY</h5> +<h3>FRANK W. CHANDLER</h3> +<h6>PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH AND COMPARATIVE LITERATURE AND DEAN OF THE<br /> +COLLEGE OF LIBERAL ARTS AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI</h6> + +<h2>CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</h2> +<p class='center'>NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON ATLANTA<br /> + SAN FRANCISCO DALLAS<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1896, 1917, by</span><br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br /> +Printed in the United States of America</h4> + +<h5><i>All rights reserved. No part of this book<br /> +may be reproduced in any form without<br /> +the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons</i></h5> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>CHAPTER</td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left">THE INMATES OF RAYNHAM ABBEY</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left">SHOWING HOW THE FATES SELECTED THE FOURTEENTH BIRTHDAY TO TRY THE STRENGTH OF THE SYSTEM</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left">THE MAGIAN CONFLICT</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left">ARSON</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left">ADRIAN PLIES HIS HOOK</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left">JUVENILE STRATAGEMS</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left">DAPHNE'S BOWER</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left">THE BITTER CUP</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td align="left">A FINE DISTINCTION</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X.</td><td align="left">RICHARD PASSES THROUGH HIS PRELIMINARY ORDEAL, AND IS THE OCCASION OF AN APHORISM</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td align="left">IN WHICH THE LAST ACT OF THE BAKEWELL COMEDY IS CLOSED IN A LETTER</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII.</td><td align="left">THE BLOSSOMING SEASON</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII.</td><td align="left"> THE MAGNETIC AGE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td><td align="left">AN ATTRACTION</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV.</td><td align="left">FERDINAND AND MIRANDA</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI.</td><td align="left">UNMASKING OF MASTER RIPTON THOMPSON</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII.</td><td align="left">GOOD WINE AND GOOD BLOOD</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII.</td><td align="left">THE SYSTEM ENCOUNTERS THE WILD OATS SPECIAL PLEA</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX.</td><td align="left"> A DIVERSION PLAYED ON A PENNY WHISTLE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XX.</td><td align="left"> CELEBRATES THE TIME-HONOURED TREATMENT OF A DRAGON BY THE HERO</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXI.</td><td align="left">RICHARD IS SUMMONED TO TOWN TO HEAR A SERMON</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXII.</td><td align="left"> INDICATES THE APPROACHES OF FEVER</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIII.</td><td align="left"> CRISIS IN THE APPLE-DISEASE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIV.</td><td align="left"> OF THE SPRING PRIMROSE AND THE AUTUMNAL</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXV.</td><td align="left"> IN WHICH THE HERO TAKES A STEP</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVI.</td><td align="left"> RECORDS THE RAPID DEVELOPMENT OF THE HERO</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVII.</td><td align="left"> CONTAINS AN INTERCESSION FOR THE HEROINE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVIII.</td><td align="left"> RELATES HOW PREPARATIONS FOR ACTION WERE CONDUCTED UNDER THE APRIL OF LOVERS</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIX.</td><td align="left"> IN WHICH THE LAST ACT OF THE COMEDY TAKES THE PLACE OF THE FIRST</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXX.</td><td align="left"> CELEBRATES THE BREAKFAST</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXI.</td><td align="left"> THE PHILOSOPHER APPEARS IN PERSON</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXII.</td><td align="left"> PROCESSION OF THE CAKE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXIII.</td><td align="left"> NURSING THE DEVIL</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXIV.</td><td align="left"> CONQUEST OF AN EPICURE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_290">290</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXV.</td><td align="left"> CLARE'S MARRIAGE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_310">310</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXVI.</td><td align="left"> A DINNER-PARTY AT RICHMOND</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_325">325</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXVII.</td><td align="left"> MRS. BERRY ON MATRIMONY</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXVIII.</td><td align="left">AN ENCHANTRESS</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXXIX.</td><td align="left"> THE LITTLE BIRD AND THE FALCON: A BERRY TO THE RESCUE!</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_376">376</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XL.</td><td align="left"> CLARE'S DIARY</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_392">392</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XLI.</td><td align="left"> AUSTIN RETURNS</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_409">409</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XLII.</td><td align="left"> NATURE SPEAKS</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_420">420</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XLIII.</td><td align="left"> AGAIN THE MAGIAN CONFLICT</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_429">429</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XLIV.</td><td align="left"> THE LAST SCENE</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_437">437</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XLV.</td><td align="left"> LADY BLANDISH TO AUSTIN WENTWORTH</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_454">454</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> + +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> + + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>Among the Victorian novelists, George Meredith occupies +a place apart. Unlike Dickens, Thackeray, and Eliot, he +appeals to a select few. Those who appreciate him are folk +of his own temper—cultivated, intellectual, urbane. They +are persons of taste and discernment. They are generally +the middle-aged rather than the young. They are those +who, aloof and contemplative, relish the comedy of life, +rather than those who throw themselves whole-heartedly into +the game. It is not to be marvelled at, therefore, that Meredith +should have won his way slowly, or that recognition, +when it came, should have rendered his position unique and +secure.</p> + +<p>Meredith's career as a writer of prose was opened, in 1856, +with <i>The Shaving of Shagpat</i>, an experiment in fantastic Oriental +romance. In the following year, he exploited German +romance less successfully in <i>Farina, a Legend of Cologne</i>. +Having thus trained his 'prentice hand, he passed to mastery +of his craft in <i>The Ordeal of Richard Feverel</i>, published in +1859. This was his first modern novel, and probably his +best. It showed him, not only expert in the use of language +and original in literary technic, but distinguished, also, as an +observer of the world and an analyst of character. The +psychological novel of George Eliot, just emerging, found +here a rival even more subtle. <i>Adam Bede</i>, a twin-birth +with <i>Feverel</i>, although detailed in its exploration of motive +and feeling, demanded less mental effort on the part of its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> +readers; it accordingly attracted much greater attention. +Whereas it was often reprinted, no second edition of <i>Feverel</i> +came from the press for nearly two decades.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Meredith had continued his course undeterred +by lack of popular approval, writing six other +novels before the appearance, in 1879, of <i>The Egoist</i>—most +characteristic of all. Two novels in particular reflected his +experience of Italy, gained while acting there as war correspondent +in 1866. The first was <i>Emilia in England</i> (1864), +later rechristened <i>Sandra Belloni</i>. The second was its sequel +<i>Vittoria</i> (1867). The other works of the period comprise +the semi-farcical <i>Evan Harrington</i> (1861); the serious +<i>Rhoda Fleming</i> (1865); the clever <i>Harry Richmond</i> (1870-71); +and Meredith's favorite—<i>Beauchamp's Career</i> (1874-75). +It is <i>The Egoist</i>, however, that most completely illustrates +its author's conception of the novel of types. In this work, +with rare skill and comic <i>élan</i>, if with a persistency a little +wearisome, he lays bare the secrets of a heart and intellect +thoroughly self-centered, proceeding so obviously from the +desire to make out a case that he is likely to displease those +who value story, yet satisfying those who enjoy brilliant +comment on character and a study of its intricacies.</p> + +<p>In his later novels, Meredith never forgot the typical in +attending to the particular, even though <i>The Tragic Comedians</i> +(1880) reflected incidents in the life of the socialist +leader Lassalle, and <i>Diana of the Crossways</i> (1885) certain +traits of Sheridan's granddaughter, Mrs. Norton. <i>One of +Our Conquerors</i> (1891), <i>Lord Ormont and his Aminta</i> (1894), +and <i>The Amazing Marriage</i> (1895) bring to a close the catalogue +of Meredith's fiction, except for the unfinished <i>Celt and +Saxon</i> published after his death.</p> + +<p>Of Meredith as a poet this is not the place to speak. Suffice +it to say that he did his first writing in verse, issuing a +volume when twenty-three, and several others later in life, +the best known being his sequence of irregular sonnets entitled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> +<i>Modern Love</i> (1867). His poetry, like his prose, is +rich in content but difficult at times by reason of its crabbed +and meticulous expression—a trait due to no obscurity of +thought or lack of feeling, but rather to the desire to compress +much meaning within a cryptic phrase. As a playwright, +Meredith attempted comedy in The <i>Sentimentalists</i>, +which was acted posthumously. As an essayist, he fathered +a memorable discussion of the comic spirit and its uses, made +concrete in his novels.</p> + +<p>Meredith's life was comparatively uneventful. He was +born in 1828 at Portsmouth, the son of a naval outfitter. +Early left an orphan, he was educated in Germany, and, returning +to England, studied law, experimented in journalism, +and fell in with a group of intellectuals led by Frederic Harrison +and John Morley. He became literary adviser to the +publishers Chapman and Hall; he edited for a short period +<i>The Fortnightly Review</i>, and served abroad as correspondent +for <i>The Morning Post</i>. But most of his maturity was passed +in rural retirement in Surrey. He was twice married, at +first unhappily to a daughter of the novelist, Thomas Love +Peacock, and then more fortunately to a Miss Vulliamy, who +bore him two children. His fame grew very slowly. Not +until the age of sixty was he recognized as among the chief +English novelists. But at the time of his death, in 1909, he +was admittedly the foremost man of letters in Great Britain.</p> + + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>Meredith is first and last an intellectualist. Hence his +preference for the psychological novel, for the novel of types, +for the novel that is half essay, for the novel of distinctive +style. Hence, also, his conception of the importance for +the novelist of comedy and the comic spirit. Comedy, according +to Meredith, is embodied mind, and its function is +to expose violations of rational law. It is common sense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> +chastising with the laughter of reason aberrations from the +sensible. Comedy measures individual shortcomings by the +social norm. It results from "the broad Alpine survey of +the spirit born of our united social intelligence." It is "a +game played to throw reflections upon social life, and it deals +with human nature in the drawing-room of civilized men and +women, where we have no dust of the struggling outer world, +no mire, no violent crashes, to make the correctness of the +representation convincing." Comedy is thus refined rather +than Rabelaisian; it is impartial rather than sentimental. +It relies upon creating ideal figures that epitomize mankind +in certain follies. It is typical and general in character, +whereas tragedy is concerned primarily with the individual.</p> + +<p>"The comic spirit conceives a definite situation for a number +of characters, and rejects all accessories in the exclusive +pursuit of them and their speech." On the stage, the great +master of such comedy is Molière, and in the novel, we might +add, Meredith. Meredith's confession of faith in the efficacy +of the comic spirit is given in the prelude to <i>The Egoist</i>, and +in these words of his famous <i>Essay</i>: "If you believe that our +civilization is founded in common-sense, you will, when contemplating +men, discern a Spirit overhead.... It has the +sage's brows, and the sunny malice of a faun lurks at the +corners of the half-closed lips.... Its common aspect is +one of unsolicitous observation.... Men's future upon +earth does not attract it; their honesty and shapeliness in +the present does; and whenever they wax out of proportion, +overblown...; whenever they offend sound reason, fair +justice; are false in humility or mined with conceit,... the +Spirit overhead will look humanly malign and cast an oblique +light on them, followed by volleys of silvery laughter. That +is the Comic Spirit."</p> + +<p>Unquestionably it is by the aid of this spirit that Meredith +writes his novels, even including such a tragedy from +the victim's point of view as <i>Richard Feverel</i>. For Meredith<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> +is theoretic or nothing. Conceiving of a folly to be displayed +and made ridiculous, he invents persons and situations +best to accomplish his purpose. He is, therefore, no +mere realist examining the confused detail of actual life "by +the watchmaker's eye in luminous rings eruptive of the infinitesimal." +He is rather an idealist, who holds it to be +the business of art to render life in quintessence. The artist +must both simplify and elaborate. First, he must simplify +experience into typical deeds and persons, eliminating from +his scheme the merely accidental and particular. Second, +he must elaborate his simplification, presenting it through +representative concrete instances that it may lose the aspect +of an abstract formula and acquire emotional significance. +Meredith is thus an intellectualist engaged in playing a game +of literary chess. He has made the pattern on his board +and designed the pieces, and he moves them according to +a pre-arranged plan. Just as his Sir Austin seeks to enact +the rôle of Providence in determining the career of Richard +Feverel, so Meredith plays Providence to his personages, +and, more than most novelists, he visibly controls their fate.</p> + +<p>Since Meredith's folk are etherealized specimens of humanity +set and kept in motion by their creator, it is his attitude +toward them that interests us quite as much as their +actions. Meredith's attitude is determined by his comic +outlook upon life. Unswayed by the petty prejudices of +his people, he surveys them with Olympian serenity, aware +of a hundred impulses and errors in their conduct that will +lead to conclusions undreamt of by themselves but clearly +foreseen by the novelist and his readers. From a rarer atmosphere +than that in which his people move, Meredith +looks down upon their whimsies and their deeds with a +smile of calm omniscience.</p> + +<p>Moreover, he separates himself from them by a wall of +clever comment, sometimes sparkling and ironical, sometimes +soberly extended to the proportions of an essay. Indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> +his novels are sometimes one-third narrative and two-thirds +essay, with the dissertational manner infecting the +narrative parts incurably. No one, I suppose, would continue +reading <i>The Egoist</i> merely from interest in its plot. +To enjoy it one must relish inspecting at leisure the artificial +attitudes of artificial people and listening, not merely to their +smart chatter, but to the smarter discourse of the master of +the puppets, who, while making them dance, lectures for the +edification of the elect. Thus Meredith, having shown his +hero touched by jealousy, lapses into a little essay on the +theme. "Remember the poets upon Jealousy," he writes. +"It is to be haunted in the heaven of two by a Third; preceded +or succeeded, therefore surrounded, embraced, hugged +by this infernal Third; it is love's bed of burning marl; to +see and taste the withering Third in the bosom of sweetness; +to be dragged through the past and find the fair Eden of it +sulphurous; to be dragged to the gates of the future and +glory to behold them blood; to adore the bitter creature +trebly and with treble power to clutch her by the windpipe; +it is to be cheated, derided, shamed, and abject and supplicating, +and consciously demoniacal in treacherousness, and +victoriously self-justified in revenge." Needless to say, generalizations +of this sort, intruding upon the narrative at +every turn, choke its progress and prove distracting.</p> + +<p>Almost equally distracting is Meredith's predilection for +resorting to the methods of comedy while writing fiction. +As W. C. Brownell has put it; "The necessities of comedy, +the irruption of new characters, their disappearance after +they have done their turn, expectation balked by shifting +situations, the frequent postponement of the dénouement +when it particularly impends, and the alleviation of impatience +by a succession of subordinate climaxes—all the machinery +of the stage, in fact—impair the narrative."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>But if the tricks of the essayist and the playwright are +freely borrowed by Meredith, sometimes to his disadvantage +and to ours, they are nevertheless in a measure appropriate +to the kind of fiction he affects. For Meredith is a +psychological novelist. He is bent upon displaying the inward +process of the mind. As Richard Le Galliene has said +of him: "The passion of his genius is ... the tracing of the +elemental in the complex; the registration of the infinitesimal +vibrations of first causes, the tracking in human life +of the shadowiest trail of primal instinct, the hairbreadth +measurement of subtle psychological tangents: and the embodiment +of these results in artistic form." Meredith, in +<i>Richard Feverel</i>, declares that for the novel "An audience +will come to whom it will be given to see the elementary +machinery at work.... To them nothing will be trivial.... +They will see the links of things as they pass, and +wonder not, as foolish people now do, that this great matter +came out of that small one." Certainly Meredith's efforts +have tended to realize that time. But the psychology of +his characters is general rather than individual. You are +conscious that these minds are typical, or even symbolic. +They belong to an imaginary and rational world treated +as though it were real.</p> + +<p>An incidental passage in <i>Beauchamp's Career</i> shows that +Meredith has understood both his limitations and his peculiar +ability. "My way," he writes, "is like a Rhone island +in the summer drought, stony, unattractive, and difficult +between the two forceful streams of the unreal and the over-real +which delight mankind—honour to the conjurors! My +people conquer nothing, win none! they are actual yet uncommon. +It is the clockwork of the brain that they are directed +to set in motion, and—poor troop of actors to vacant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span> +benches!—the conscience residing in thoughtfulness which +they would appeal to; and if you are there impervious to +them we are lost."</p> + +<p>In Meredith's novels, which indeed reveal in operation +"the clockwork of the brain," the author has taken care still +further to intellectualize his appeal by means of his style. +His technic holds attention; he is an artificer of style, and, +as such, he writes a style of artifice. He seeks to express +himself with novelty and distinction. If a boy runs, Meredith +speaks of him as being seen to bound "and taking a +lift of arms, fly aloft, clapping heels." If a woman runs, +Meredith writes: "She was fleet; she ran as though a hundred +little feet were bearing her onward smooth as water +over the lawn and the sweeps of grass of the park, so swiftly +did the hidden pair multiply one another to speed her.... +Suddenly her flight wound to an end in a dozen twittering +steps, and she sank." If a heroine of eighteen would take +leave of her admirer, she says: "We have met. It is more +than I have merited. We part. In mercy let it be forever. +Oh, terrible word! Coined by the passions of our youth, +it comes to us for our sole riches when we are bankrupt of +earthly treasures, and is the passport given by Abnegation +unto Woe that prays to quit this probationary sphere."</p> + +<p>Fancy any human being—least of all a girl—discoursing +thus! But, no matter how simple a thought or action, Meredith +sends it forth arrayed in finer gear than Solomon in all +his glory. It is beribboned with metaphor and personification; +it is beflounced with epigram and allegory. It is truth +rendered more precious, as the medieval critics advised, +by being wrapped in sayings not to be lightly understood +by the vulgar. So, when a lover admires the chasteness of +his lady, Meredith remarks: "He saw the Goddess Modesty +guarding Purity; and one would be bold to say that he did not +hear the precepts, Purity's aged grannams maternal and paternal, +cawing approval of her over their munching gums."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Meredith's gift of phrase and his knack of knocking +out epigrams, and his mastery over metaphor and lyrical +description cannot be too highly commended. Diana is +"wind-blown but ascending." When Redworth sees her +kindling a fire, "a little mouse of a thought scampered out +of one of the chambers of his head and darted along the passages, +fetching a sweat to his brows." After Sandra's singing, +the stillness settled back again "like one folding up a +precious jewel." A dull professor "pores over a little inexactitude +in phrases and pecks at it like a domestic fowl." +Of one who has ceased to love we hear that "the passion in +her was like a place of waves evaporated to a crust of salt." +Of a lady's letter we learn that it "flourished with light +strokes all over, like a field of the bearded barley." Of a +heroine we are told that: "She was not of the creatures who +are excited by an atmosphere of excitement; she took it +as the nymph of the stream her native wave, and swam on +the flood with expansive languor, happy to have the master +passions about her; one or two of which her dainty hand +caressed fearless of a sting; the lady patted them as her +swans." There is brilliant illumination in such comparisons, +a light shed instantaneously upon traits and mental +experiences otherwise not to be revealed. When the Egoist +would affectionately approach his shrinking Clara, nothing +could better deliver the situation than Meredith's simile: +"The gulf of a caress hove in view like an enormous billow +hollowing under the curled ridge. She stooped to a buttercup; +the monster swept by."</p> + +<p>It is felicity in the use of rhetorical figure that enables +Meredith to characterize the style of a Carlyle as, "resembling +either early architecture or utter dilapidation, so loose +and rough it seemed; a wind-in-the-orchard style, that tumbled +down here and there an appreciable fruit with uncouth +bluster; sentences without commencement running +to abrupt endings and smoke, like waves against a sea wall,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span> +learned dictionary words giving a hand to street slang, and +accents falling on them haphazard, like slant rays from driving +clouds; all the pages in a breeze, the whole book producing +a kind of electrical agitation in the mind and the +joints." It is Meredith's gift for phrase that enables him +to paint those wonderful backgrounds for action which are +the despair of common writers. Sometimes the scenes are +sketched in with but a touch or two of suggestion. So, +when Richard Feverel and Lucy spend an evening afloat, +Meredith writes: "Hanging between two heavens on the +lake: floating to her voice: the moon stepping over and +through white shoals of soft high clouds above and below: +floating to her voice—no other breath abroad! His soul +went out of his body as he listened." Or, when Richard, in +gay company, passes a night at Richmond, Meredith says +simply: "Silver was seen far out on Thames. The wine +ebbed, and the laughter. Sentiment and cigars took up the +wondrous tale."</p> + +<p>Sometimes the description is long and minute, but always +it is beautifully fresh. Thus the coming of dawn is pictured +in <i>The Amazing Marriage</i>: "The smell of rock-waters +and roots of herb and moss grew keen; air became a wine +that raised the breast high to drink it; an uplifting coolness +pervaded the heights.... The plumes of cloud now slowly +entered into the lofty arch of dawn and melted from brown +to purple black.... The armies of the young sunrise in +mountain-lands neighbouring the plains, vast shadows, were +marching over woods and meads, black against the edge of +golden; and great heights were cut with them, and bounding +waters took the leap in a silvery radiance to gloom; the +bright and dark-banded valleys were like night and morning +taking hands down the sweep of their rivers."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>Meredith's style receives its final and distinctive flavor, +however, from the liberal dash of aphorism with which his +books are sprinkled. Often an epigram will turn upon some +metaphor. Such is the statement that: "A bone in a boy's +mind for him to gnaw and worry corrects the vagrancies and +promotes the healthy activities, whether there be marrow +in it or not," or the exclamation: "Who are not fools to be +set spinning, if we choose to whip them with their vanity! +It is the consolation of the great to watch them spin." Such, +too, is the reflection that: "Most of the people one has at +table are drums. A rub-a-dub-dub on them is the only way +to get a sound. When they can be persuaded to do it upon +one another, they call it conversation." More frequently, +the epigram is a neat generalization left abstract, as for example: +"Who rises from prayer a better man, his prayer is +answered"; "Cynics are only happy in making the world +as barren to others as they have made it for themselves"; +"Fools run jabbering of the irony of fate to escape the annoyance +of tracing the causes"; "Expediency is man's wisdom; +doing right is God's"; "Women cannot repose on a +man who is not positive; nor have they much gratification +in confounding him"; "Convictions are generally first impressions +sealed with later prejudices"; "The hero of two +women must die and be wept over in common before they +can appreciate one another."</p> + +<p>A thousand such jewels glitter in the richly wrought tapestry +of Meredith's style. That he painstakingly inserted +them and wove this fabric to attract attention by its singularity +and beauty, he cheerfully admits in a passage of +<i>Emilia in England</i>. "The point to be considered," he there +remarks, "is whether fiction demands a perfectly smooth +surface. Undoubtedly a scientific work does, and a philosophical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span> +work should. When we ask for facts simply we +feel the intrusion of style. Of fiction it is a part. In the +one case the classical robe, in the other any medieval phantasy +of clothing."</p> + +<p>The difficulty with a style so artificial and intellectualized +is obvious. Meredith, according to Brownell, "flatters one's +cleverness at first, but in the end he fatigues it." The perpetual +crackle of aphorism and metaphor surprises, gratifies, +and then wearies; for a writer who will never say a +plain thing plainly, not only keeps his readers under strain, +but soon seems himself to be straining. Nowhere is this +more evident than in Meredith's predilection for repeating +a single happy phrase such as the epithet "rogue in porcelain" +applied to a heroine. Since the phrase tickles his +fancy, he plays with it, drops it, picks it up, mumbles it over +and over as a dog might a bone, and through chapter after +chapter is ready at any pretext to run round and round +with it barking. Despite his assiduous striving for novelty, +therefore, Meredith is often tedious, an effect induced, not +merely by his style (whether repetitious or gasping after +eccentricity), but also by his method. He is so intent upon +weaving his commentary upon every speech and action +that the occasion of the commentary is smothered. A +phrase becomes the text of a sermon, a gesture the excuse +for paragraphs of oblique reflection. Thus he forfeits the +advantage of downright sincerity and of forthright progress, +and teases interest out of all patience.</p> + + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>Since Meredith is an intellectualist, we naturally ask +what may be his philosophy. Unlike Ibsen or Browning, +he preaches no doctrine. He offers no explicit theory of +life. Nor does he, like Dickens or Reade or Brieux, advocate +any special reform. He is never a propagandist. Some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span> +have lamented this fact; more have seen in it an argument +for his universality and permanence. Though he fight no +battles for specific causes, his influence is arrayed in general +against certain tendencies that he disapproves and would +laugh to defeat. Egoism, sentimentalism, hypocrisy, are +fair game for his comedy. As an intellectualist he dislikes +and distrusts excess of emotion—feeling indulged for its own +sake. "Sentimentalists," he declares, "are they who seek +to enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a +thing done."</p> + +<p>Well might Mrs. Carlyle complain that Meredith's work +lacked tears. That it does so he would be the first to admit, +for he questions the worth of pathos for any true captain +of his soul. "Pathos is a tide; often it carries the awakener +of it off his feet," Meredith writes. "We cannot quite preserve +our dignity when we stoop to the work of calling forth +tears. Moses had probably to take a nimble jump away +from the rock after that venerable lawgiver had knocked +the water out of it." So Meredith sacrifices passion to +analysis. His heroes and heroines rarely love so simply +and so ardently as do Richard and Lucy; but the affection +of even this delectable pair is modified in presentation by +the playful cynicism of the narrator of their story. On the +other hand, it is futile to cavil at Meredith or any other +artist for lacking such qualities as are incompatible with +those he most notably possesses. You cannot expect abandon +of passion in the characters of a novelist whose forte is +detachment and sublimated common sense. Your intellectualist +is not to be blamed if he fails to write as a sentimentalist.</p> + +<p>Meredith's positive philosophy has been formulated by +Elmer J. Bailey in terms that may be briefly paraphrased: +Meredith thinks of man as torn between Nature and Circumstance. +By Nature is meant the world of instinct, of +healthy normal impulse. By Circumstance is meant the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</a></span> +world of artificial laws erected by society as the machinery +for its conduct and control. Nature is spontaneous; Circumstance +is traditional. Man may err by allowing to +either undue dominance. His only safety lies in the use of +his reason which will enable him to keep both Nature and +Circumstance in proper equipoise. And the most serviceable +instrument of reason for detecting the follies of convention +or of feeling is the comic spirit. Without this spirit +we are not truly intellectual, for, as Meredith has said: +"Not to have a sympathy with the playful mind is not to +have a mind." Let us possess mind, he seems to urge, and +through mind cultivate the soul. In <i>The Tragic Comedians</i> +he remarks: "It is the soul which does things in life—the +rest is vapor.... Action means life to the soul as to the +body.... Compromise is virtual death; it is the pact between +cowardice and comfort, under the title of expediency. +So do we gather dead matter about us. So are we gradually +self-stifled, corrupt. The war with evil in every form +must be incessant; we cannot have peace." The serious +note here sounded may be heard again in his letter to a friend, +Mrs. Gilman. There Meredith says: "I have written always +with the perception that there is no life but of the +spirit; that the concrete is the shadowy; yet that the way +to spiritual life lies in the complete unfolding of the creature, +not in the nipping of his passions. An outrage to +nature helps to extinguish his light."</p> + + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>Just such an outrage to nature perpetrated with the best +intentions, but in blind folly, is the subject of Meredith's +novel, <i>The Ordeal of Richard Feverel</i>. A dogmatic and conventional +father endeavors to determine his son's life according +to an infallible system of parental dictation. Instead +of allowing the boy to develop naturally from within, +Sir Austin seeks to mould him absolutely from without.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</a></span> +The failure of this experiment makes the story. The first +eleven chapters are in a sense introductory. They present +to the reader the members of the Feverel family and describe +with gusto a poaching escapade of Richard's youth. +From this first ordeal he emerges triumphant by obeying +the impulse of his heart to make frank confession, despite +his father's endeavor to patch up the matter by plotting. +Then, in the next twenty chapters, follows the account of +Richard's passion for the lovely Lucy and of the machinations +of those who would nip it in the bud. All these checks +are for the moment overcome when Richard, after having +suffered separation from Lucy, is again thrown with her by +chance and impulsively marries her.</p> + +<p>In the chapters next ensuing Sir Austin, instead of gracefully +accepting defeat, masks and crushes his emotions and +permits his Mephistophelian nephew, the cynical Adrian, +to scheme for Richard's alienation from his bride. Richard +is lured away and succumbs to the spell of a wicked enchantress +whom at first he has thought to reform; and then, +shamed and distraught, he wanders abroad, seeking a purge +for his sin. Meanwhile, the deserted wife, at Adrian's instigation, +has been assailed by a villain, the husband of +Richard's enchantress. Issuing unscathed from her ordeal, +Lucy is tardily accepted by the complacent Sir Austin and +received, with her child, at his house. Since Richard has +at length achieved self-mastery and has resolved to return +and confess to his wife, and plead for her grace, a general +reconciliation seems imminent. But the novelist will not +allow his tale to end happily lest its moral be frustrate. Accordingly, +although Richard returns for an hour to be freely +forgiven by Lucy, he dashes away forthwith, despite her entreaties, +to duel with her persecutor. Joy, even yet, might +emerge from disaster, since Richard escapes from the duel +with only a wound, but the author continues implacable. +His heroine, in nursing her husband, succumbs to a strain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[Pg xxiv]</a></span> +long protracted, and Richard, though recovered in body, is +left but a wreck of his former self. Such is the desolating +outcome of attempting to regulate healthy human loves by +a worldly system.</p> + +<p>What is tragic for hero and heroine is gravely comic to +the eye of the intellectualist surveying the folly of men from +a height far above the troubled waves of their passion. For +Meredith, Sir Austin incarnates a comic error. His story +is the comedy of one who theorizes at length upon life, but +utterly fails to deal with it practically. Of course Sir Austin +takes no blame to himself. It is useless, he reflects, "to +base any system on a human being," even though this is +precisely what he has done. And when Richard is to return +to his wife, and Sir Austin has at last grown kind to her, we +hear that: "He could now admit that instinct had so far +beaten science; for, as Richard was coming, as all were to +be happy, his wisdom embraced them all paternally as the +author of their happiness." Of Sir Austin, Meredith remarks: +"He had experimented on humanity in the person +of the son he loved as his life, and at once, when the experiment +appeared to have failed, all humanity's failings fell on +the shoulders of his son." The reader's inevitable reaction +to the novel is expressed by Lady Blandish: "Oh! how sick +I am of theories and systems and the pretensions of men!... +I shall hate the name of science till the day I die. +Give me nothing but commonplace, unpretending people!"</p> + +<p>That the plot of <i>Richard Feverel</i> unduly tantalizes goes +without saying. The author keeps his hero and heroine +apart by main force. Granting that Richard is the victim +of rascals, as well as of a ridiculous system, his easy desertion +of the wife whom he loves and his continued separation +from her seem to lie in Meredith's will rather than in that +of his hero. Richard's yielding to Mrs. Mount, described +with remarkable power, is more natural, but his mooning +about Germany while Lucy is left to struggle alone is as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[Pg xxv]</a></span> +exasperating as her failure to apprise him of the fact that +she is to bear him a child. Splendid as is the last meeting +of Richard and Lucy, declared by Stevenson to be "the +strongest scene since Shakespeare in the English tongue," +it forfeits something of greatness because of perversity. +More natural is the faint sub-plot intended to echo the central +theme of the book in its story of Clare's hopeless love +for Richard, at first reciprocated, and then blocked by Sir +Austin and the girl's mother.</p> + + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>In characterization, this novel excels. Its folk are persons +and not alone types. Chief of the Feverel clan is Richard's +father, Sir Austin, wounded by the infidelity of his +wife and his friend, yet an intellectual egoist, proud of his +plans for ruling the family and equally proud of his epigrams. +Given less fully are Richard's aunt, the worldly mother of +Clare, and his uncles—the guardsman Algernon, who has +lost a leg at cricket, and crochety Hippias, "the dyspepsy." +Of Richard's cousins one is sympathetic, and the other is +Satanic. The first, Austin Wentworth, lives in disgrace for +having repaired a youthful indiscretion by marrying a housemaid. +As for the second, Adrian Harley, "the Wise Youth," +he is Richard's tutor, whose heart has dropped to his stomach, +a clever worldling and the contemner of honest passion, one +of the most accomplished cynics of all literature. There +are minor characters, too, but equally vital, from blunt +Farmer Blaize and his son, and the disgruntled farm-hand +Tom Bakewell, to Sir Austin's sentimental companion Lady +Blandish, and Ripton, the faithful old dog.</p> + +<p>Of the women three stand to the fore—Lucy, Mrs. Mount, +and Mrs. Berry. The adorable Lucy is a northern Juliet +brought to sudden maturity by her passion for Richard. +Beneath him in birth, she is more than his equal in manner +and mind and spirit. Though shown only in glimpses, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[Pg xxvi]</a></span> +is never less than entrancing. Mrs. Mount is the dashing +temptress, a little worn and half-hearted until piqued by +Richard's indifference into playing her game more earnestly, +and then exerting all the fascinations of the wicked. Most +original of the three is Lucy's vulgar befriender, Mrs. Berry, +a lovable "old-black-satin bunch," as Meredith tags her, +wise but irrelevant, aware of the sensual springs beneath our +polite pretenses, a Juliet's nurse grown mellow. It is to be +noted, however, that none of these characters is really dynamic, +unless it be Mrs. Doria Forey, who suffers a change of +heart after sacrificing that of her daughter, and Richard +who somewhat alters under the stress of his ordeal.</p> + +<p>Subordinate to character, plot, and central idea, yet +scarcely less effective in producing the total effect of the +novel, are its setting, its style, and its author's point of +view. Already Meredith's point of view has been defined +as that of the writer of comedy. In the dinner scene at +Richmond, for example, you are conscious of the author +smiling apart upon callow Richard and Ripton caught in the +snares of the demi-monde. It is Thackeray over again, letting +us see the self-deception of Pendennis in his admiration +of the Fotheringay. Sometimes, in this novel, Meredith +apostrophizes his people, emitting lyrical exclamations of +admiration or disgust at their conduct. More often, he remains +aloof, though none the less present in spirit. Rarely +does he here conform to Brownell's statement, more applicable +to his later fictions, that: "He is not merely detached, +he is obliterated. All he shows us of himself is his talent; +his standpoint is to be divined."</p> + +<p>That which especially reveals the author's standpoint is +what Professor Saintsbury, in referring to this novel, has +termed its "style saturated with epigrammatic quality; and +of strange ironic persiflage permeating thought, picture, +and expression." The persiflage appears, above all, in the +speeches of the saturnine Adrian. As for the epigrams,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[Pg xxvii]</a></span> +their number is justified in part by supposing them to come +from Sir Austin's collection entitled "The Pilgrim's Scrip." +They abound, however, in the speech of others and in the +narrative proper. Typical spicings of style are the following: +"To anchor the heart by any object ere we have half +traversed the world is youth's foolishness"; "It is difficult +for those who think very earnestly for their children to know +when their children are thinking on their own account"; +"If immeasurable love were perfect wisdom, one human +being might almost impersonate Providence to another"; +"The ways of women, which are involution, and their practices, +which are opposition, are generally best hit upon by +guesswork and a bold word"; "The God of this world is in +the machine, not out of it"; "Sentimentalism is a happy +pastime and an important science to the timid, the idle, and +the heartless; but a damning one to them who have anything +to forfeit"; "The task of reclaiming a bad man is extremely +seductive to good women. Dear to their tender +hearts as old china is a bad man they are mending." Even +illiterate Mrs. Berry talks in epigram, now on checked matrimony, +which she holds to be as injurious as checked perspiration, +and now on the wickedness of old people, which, +she affirms, is the excuse for the wildness of young ones. "I +think it's always the plan in a 'dielemmer,'" she says, "to +pray God and walk forward." To Lucy, the bride, she +gives this advice: "When the parlour fire gets low, put coals +on the kitchen fire.... Don't neglect your cookery. Kissing +don't last; cookery do."</p> + +<p>Aside from its aphorisms, the style of <i>Feverel</i> is essentially +clever, but by no means so artificial as that of Meredith's +later novels. If a stage direction seem occasionally over-elaborate, +as: "Adrian gesticulated an acquiesced withdrawal," +others are felicitous, as: "At last Hippias perspired +in conviction," or: "He set his sight hard at the blue ridges +of the hills," or, of Ripton draining a bumper at a gulp: "The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxviii" id="Page_xxviii">[Pg xxviii]</a></span> +farthing rushlight of his reason leapt and expired. He tumbled +to the sofa and there stretched." There are fine passages, +too, of description, like those concerned with the boyish +adventures of Richard and Ripton, the Ferdinand and +Miranda meeting of hero and heroine, the temptation episode, +and the storm in the German forest by night. "Up +started the whole forest in violet fire. He saw the country +at the foot of the hills to the bounding Rhine gleam, quiver, +extinguished.... Lower down the abysses of air rolled +the wrathful crash; then white thrusts of light were darted +from the sky, and great curving ferns, seen steadfast in +pallor a second, were supernaturally agitated and vanished. +Then a shrilling song roused in the leaves and the herbage. +Prolonged and louder it sounded, as deeper and heavier the +deluge pressed. A mighty force of water satisfied the desire +of the earth." Admirable, also, are the mere hints of +background given in a flashing phrase that conjures up the +scene: "Look at those old elm branches! How they seem to +mix among the stars!—glittering prints of winter."</p> + +<p>Taken all in all, <i>The Ordeal of Richard Feverel</i> may be reckoned +as Meredith's masterpiece. "My old conviction grows +stronger," writes Le Galliene, "that it will be <i>Richard Feverel</i> +and perhaps no other of his novels ... that will keep his +name alive in English literature." Certainly, Meredith has +here allowed to his characters a charm of personality that +later he tends to sacrifice in stressing their purely typical +traits. He shows here a fire of sincerity rarely afterwards +burning so brightly. He is less the mere essayist and more +the lyric and dramatic tale-teller. He has set forth with +skill the elements of a large problem, confirming the truth +of Chesterton's remark that he combines subtlety with +primal energy, and criticizes life without losing his appetite +for it.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right"> +<span class="smcap">Frank Wadleigh Chandler.</span><br /></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">University of Cincinnati.</span></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h1>THE ORDEAL OF<br /> +RICHARD FEVEREL</h1> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE INMATES OF RAYNHAM ABBEY</h3> + + +<p>Some years ago a book was published under the title +of "The Pilgrim's Scrip." It consisted of a selection of +original aphorisms by an anonymous gentleman, who in +this bashful manner gave a bruised heart to the world.</p> + +<p>He made no pretension to novelty. "Our new thoughts +have thrilled dead bosoms," he wrote; by which avowal +it may be seen that youth had manifestly gone from +him, since he had ceased to be jealous of the ancients. +There was a half-sigh floating through his pages for +those days of intellectual coxcombry, when ideas come +to us affecting the embraces of virgins, and swear to us +they are ours alone, and no one else have they ever +visited: and we believe them.</p> + +<p>For an example of his ideas of the sex he said:</p> + +<p>"I expect that Woman will be the last thing civilized +by Man."</p> + +<p>Some excitement was produced in the bosoms of ladies +by so monstrous a scorn of them.</p> + +<p>One adventurous person betook herself to the Heralds' +College, and there ascertained that a Griffin between two +Wheatsheaves, which stood on the title-page of the book, +formed the crest of Sir Austin Absworthy Bearne Feverel, +Baronet, of Raynham Abbey, in a certain Western county +folding Thames: a man of wealth and honour, and a somewhat +lamentable history.</p> + +<p>The outline of the baronet's story was by no means new. +He had a wife, and he had a friend. His marriage was for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +love; his wife was a beauty; his friend was a sort of poet. +His wife had his whole heart, and his friend all his confidence. +When he selected Denzil Somers from among his +college chums, it was not on account of any similarity of +disposition between them, but from his intense worship of +genius, which made him overlook the absence of principle +in his associate for the sake of such brilliant promise. +Denzil had a small patrimony to lead off with, and that he +dissipated before he left college; henceforth he was dependent +upon his admirer, with whom he lived, filling a +nominal post of bailiff to the estates, and launching forth +verse of some satiric and sentimental quality; for being +inclined to vice, and occasionally, and in a quiet way, +practising it, he was of course a sentimentalist and a +satirist, entitled to lash the Age and complain of human +nature. His earlier poems, published under the pseudonym +of Diaper Sandoe, were so pure and bloodless in +their love passages, and at the same time so biting in +their moral tone, that his reputation was great among the +virtuous, who form the larger portion of the English book-buying +public. Election-seasons called him to ballad-poetry +on behalf of the Tory party. Diaper possessed +undoubted fluency, but did little, though Sir Austin +was ever expecting much of him.</p> + +<p>A languishing, inexperienced woman, whose husband in +mental and in moral stature is more than the ordinary +height above her, and who, now that her first romantic +admiration of his lofty bearing has worn off; and her fretful +little refinements of taste and sentiment are not instinctively +responded to, is thrown into no wholesome +household collision with a fluent man, fluent in prose and +rhyme. Lady Feverel, when she first entered on her +duties at Raynham, was jealous of her husband's friend. +By degrees she tolerated him. In time he touched his +guitar in her chamber, and they played Rizzio and Mary +together.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For I am not the first who found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The name of Mary fatal!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>says a subsequent sentimental alliterative love-poem of +Diaper's.</p> + +<p>Such was the outline of the story. But the baronet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +could fill it up. He had opened his soul to these two. +He had been noble Love to the one, and to the other +perfect Friendship. He had bid them be brother and +sister whom he loved, and live a Golden Age with him at +Raynham. In fact, he had been prodigal of the excellences +of his nature, which it is not good to be, and, like +Timon, he became bankrupt, and fell upon bitterness.</p> + +<p>The faithless lady was of no particular family; an +orphan daughter of an admiral who educated her on his +half-pay, and her conduct struck but at the man whose +name she bore.</p> + +<p>After five years of marriage, and twelve of friendship, +Sir Austin was left to his loneliness with nothing to ease +his heart of love upon save a little baby boy in a cradle. +He forgave the man: he put him aside as poor for his +wrath. The woman he could not forgive; she had sinned +every way. Simple ingratitude to a benefactor was a +pardonable transgression, for he was not one to recount +and crush the culprit under the heap of his good deeds. +But her he had raised to be his equal, and he judged her +as his equal. She had blackened the world's fair aspect +for him.</p> + +<p>In the presence of that world, so different to him now, +he preserved his wonted demeanour, and made his features +a flexible mask. Mrs. Doria Forey, his widowed sister, +said that Austin might have retired from his Parliamentary +career for a time, and given up gaieties and that +kind of thing; her opinion, founded on observation of him +in public and private, was, that the light thing who had +taken flight was but a feather on her brother's Feverel-heart, +and his ordinary course of life would be resumed. +There are times when common men cannot bear the +weight of just so much. Hippias <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Feveral'">Feverel</ins>, one of his +brothers, thought him immensely improved by his misfortune, +if the loss of such a person could be so designated; +and seeing that Hippias received in consequence +free quarters at Raynham, and possession of the wing of +the Abbey she had inhabited, it is profitable to know his +thoughts. If the baronet had given two or three blazing +dinners in the great hall he would have deceived people +generally, as he did his relatives and intimates. He was +too sick for that: fit only for passive acting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<p>The nurse-maid waking in the night beheld a solitary +figure darkening a lamp above her little sleeping charge, +and became so used to the sight as never to wake with a +start. One night she was strangely aroused by a sound +of sobbing. The baronet stood beside the cot in his long +black cloak and travelling cap. His fingers shaded a lamp, +and reddened against the fitful darkness that ever and +anon went leaping up the wall. She could hardly believe +her senses to see the austere gentleman, dead silent, dropping +tear upon tear before her eyes. She lay stone-still +in a trance of terror and mournfulness, mechanically +counting the tears as they fell, one by one. The hidden +face, the fall and flash of those heavy drops in the light +of the lamp he held, the upright, awful figure, agitated at +regular intervals like a piece of clockwork by the low +murderous catch of his breath: it was so piteous to her +poor human nature that her heart began wildly palpitating. +Involuntarily the poor girl cried out to him, "Oh, +sir!" and fell a-weeping. Sir Austin turned the lamp +on her pillow, and harshly bade her go to sleep, striding +from the room forthwith. He dismissed her with a purse +the next day.</p> + +<p>Once, when he was seven years old, the little fellow +woke up at night to see a lady bending over him. He +talked of this the next day, but it was treated as a dream; +until in the course of the day his uncle Algernon was +driven home from Lobourne cricket-ground with a broken +leg. Then it was recollected that there was a family +ghost; and, though no member of the family believed in +the ghost, none would have given up a circumstance that +testified to its existence; for to possess a ghost is a distinction +above titles.</p> + +<p>Algernon Feverel lost his leg, and ceased to be a gentleman +in the Guards. Of the other uncles of young Richard, +Cuthbert, the sailor, perished in a spirited boat expedition +against a slaving negro chief up the Niger. Some of the +gallant lieutenant's trophies of war decorated the little +boy's play-shed at Raynham, and he bequeathed his sword +to Richard, whose hero he was. The diplomatist and beau, +Vivian, ended his flutterings from flower to flower by making +an improper marriage, as is the fate of many a beau, +and was struck out of the list of visitors. Algernon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +generally occupied the baronet's disused town-house, a +wretched being, dividing his time between horse and card +exercise: possessed, it was said, of the absurd notion that +a man who has lost his balance by losing his leg may +regain it by sticking to the bottle. At least, whenever +he and his brother Hippias got together, they never failed +to try whether one leg, or two, stood the bottle best. Much +of a puritan as Sir Austin was in his habits, he was too +good a host, and too thorough a gentleman, to impose +them upon his guests. The brothers, and other relatives, +might do as they would while they did not disgrace the +name, and then it was final: they must depart to behold +his countenance no more.</p> + +<p>Algernon Feverel was a simple man, who felt, subsequent +to his misfortune, as he had perhaps dimly fancied +it before, that his career lay in his legs, and was now +irrevocably cut short. He taught the boy boxing, and +shooting, and the arts of fence, and superintended the +direction of his animal vigour with a melancholy vivacity. +The remaining energies of Algernon's mind were devoted +to animadversions on swift bowling. He preached it over +the county, struggling through laborious literary compositions, +addressed to sporting newspapers, on the Decline +of Cricket. It was Algernon who witnessed and +chronicled young Richard's first fight, which was with +young Tom Blaize of Belthorpe Farm, three years the +boy's senior.</p> + +<p>Hippias Feverel was once thought to be the genius +of the family. It was his ill luck to have strong appetites +and a weak stomach; and, as one is not altogether +fit for the battle of life who is engaged in a perpetual +contention with his dinner, Hippias forsook his prospects +at the Bar, and, in the embraces of dyspepsia, compiled his +ponderous work on the Fairy Mythology of Europe. He +had little to do with the Hope of Raynham beyond what +he endured from his juvenile tricks.</p> + +<p>A venerable lady, known as Great-Aunt Grantley, who +had money to bequeath to the heir, occupied with Hippias +the background of the house and shared her caudles with +him. These two were seldom seen till the dinner-hour, +for which they were all day preparing; and probably all +night remembering, for the Eighteenth Century was an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +admirable trencherman, and cast age aside while there +was a dish on the table.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria Forey was the eldest of the three sisters of +the baronet, a florid affable woman, with fine teeth, exceedingly +fine light wavy hair, a Norman nose, and a reputation +for understanding men; and that, with these +practical creatures, always means the art of managing +them. She had married an expectant younger son of a good +family, who deceased before the fulfilment of his prospects; +and, casting about in her mind the future chances +of her little daughter and sole child, Clare, she marked +down a probability. The far sight, the deep determination, +the resolute perseverance of her sex, where a daughter is +to be provided for and a man to be overthrown, instigated +her to invite herself to Raynham, where, with that daughter, +she fixed herself.</p> + +<p>The other two Feverel ladies were the wife of Colonel +Wentworth and the widow of Mr. Justice Harley: and +the only thing remarkable about them was that they were +mothers of sons of some distinction.</p> + +<p>Austin Wentworth's story was of that wretched character +which to be comprehended, that justice should be +dealt him, must be told out and openly; which no one +dares now do.</p> + +<p>For a fault in early youth, redeemed by him nobly, +according to his light, he was condemned to undergo the +world's harsh judgment: not for the fault—for its atonement.</p> + +<p>"—Married his mother's housemaid," whispered Mrs. +Doria, with a ghastly look, and a shudder at young men +of republican sentiments, which he was reputed to entertain.</p> + +<p>"The compensation for Injustice," says the "Pilgrim's +Scrip," "is, that in that dark Ordeal we gather the +worthiest around us."</p> + +<p>And the baronet's fair friend, Lady Blandish, and some +few true men and women, held Austin Wentworth high.</p> + +<p>He did not live with his wife; and Sir Austin, whose +mind was bent on the future of our species, reproached +him with being barren to posterity, while knaves were +propagating.</p> + +<p>The principal characteristic of the second nephew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +Adrian Harley, was his sagacity. He was essentially the +wise youth, both in counsel and in action.</p> + +<p>"In action," the "Pilgrim's Scrip" observes, "Wisdom +goes by majorities."</p> + +<p>Adrian had an instinct for the majority, and, as the +world invariably found him enlisted in its ranks, his +appellation of wise youth was acquiesced in without +irony.</p> + +<p>The wise youth, then, had the world with him, but no +friends. Nor did he wish for those troublesome appendages +of success. He caused himself to be required by +people who could serve him; feared by such as could +injure. Not that he went out of the way to secure his +end, or risked the expense of a plot. He did the work +as easily as he ate his daily bread. Adrian was an epicurean; +one whom Epicurus would have scourged out of +his garden, certainly: an epicurean of our modern notions. +To satisfy his appetites without rashly staking his +character, was the wise youth's problem for life. He had +no intimates except Gibbon and Horace, and the society +of these fine aristocrats of literature helped him to accept +humanity as it had been, and was; a supreme ironic +procession, with laughter of Gods in the background. +Why not laughter of mortals also? Adrian had his laugh +in his comfortable corner. He possessed peculiar attributes +of a heathen God. He was a disposer of men: +he was polished, luxurious, and happy—at their cost. He +lived in eminent self-content, as one lying on soft cloud, +lapt in sunshine. Nor Jove, nor Apollo, cast eye upon +the maids of earth with cooler fire of selection, or pursued +them in the covert with more sacred impunity. +And he enjoyed his reputation for virtue as something +additional. Stolen fruits are said to be sweet; undeserved +rewards are exquisite.</p> + +<p>The best of it was, that Adrian made no pretences. He +did not solicit the favourable judgment of the world. +Nature and he attempted no other concealment than the +ordinary mask men wear. And yet the world would +proclaim him moral, as well as wise, and the pleasing +converse every way of his disgraced cousin Austin.</p> + +<p>In a word, Adrian Harley had mastered his philosophy +at the early age of one-and-twenty. Many would be glad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +to say the same at that age twice-told: they carry in +their breasts a burden with which Adrian's was not +loaded. Mrs. Doria was nearly right about his heart. A +singular mishap (at his birth, possibly, or before it) had +unseated that organ, and shaken it down to his stomach, +where it was a much lighter, nay, an inspiring weight, and +encouraged him merrily onward. Throned there it looked +on little that did not arrive to gratify it. Already that +region was a trifle prominent in the person of the wise +youth, and carried, as it were, the flag of his philosophical +tenets in front of him. He was charming after dinner, +with men or with women: delightfully sarcastic: perhaps +a little too unscrupulous in his moral tone, but that his +moral reputation belied him, and it must be set down to +generosity of disposition.</p> + +<p>Such was Adrian Harley, another of Sir Austin's intellectual +favourites, chosen from mankind to superintend +the education of his son at Raynham. Adrian had been +destined for the Church. He did not enter into Orders. +He and the baronet had a conference together one day, +and from that time Adrian became a fixture in the Abbey. +His father died in his promising son's college term, bequeathing +him nothing but his legal complexion, and +Adrian became stipendiary officer in his uncle's household.</p> + +<p>A playfellow of Richard's occasionally, and the only +comrade of his age that he ever saw, was Master Ripton +Thompson, the son of Sir Austin's solicitor, a boy without +a character.</p> + +<p>A comrade of some description was necessary, for +Richard was neither to go to school nor to college. Sir +Austin considered that the schools were corrupt, and +maintained that young lads might by parental vigilance +be kept pretty secure from the Serpent until Eve sided +with him: a period that might be deferred, he said. He +had a system of education for his son. How it worked we +shall see.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>SHOWING HOW THE FATES SELECTED THE FOURTEENTH<br /> +BIRTHDAY TO TRY THE STRENGTH OF +THE SYSTEM</h3> + + +<p>October shone royally on Richard's fourteenth birthday. +The brown beechwoods and golden birches glowed to a +brilliant sun. Banks of moveless cloud hung about the +horizon, mounded to the west, where slept the wind. +Promise of a great day for Raynham, as it proved to be, +though not in the manner marked out.</p> + +<p>Already archery-booths and cricketing-tents were rising +on the lower grounds towards the river, whither the lads +of Bursley and Lobourne, in boats and in carts, shouting +for a day of ale and honour, jogged merrily to match +themselves anew, and pluck at the living laurel from each +other's brows, like manly Britons. The whole park was +beginning to be astir and resound with holiday cries. +Sir Austin Feverel, a thorough good Tory, was no game-preserver, +and could be popular whenever he chose, which +Sir Miles Papworth, on the other side of the river, a +fast-handed Whig and terror to poachers, never could be. +Half the village of Lobourne was seen trooping through +the avenues of the park. Fiddlers and gipsies clamoured +at the gates for admission; white smocks, and slate, surmounted +by hats of serious brim, and now and then a +scarlet cloak, smacking of the old country, dotted the +grassy sweeps to the levels.</p> + +<p>And all the time the star of these festivities was receding +further and further, and eclipsing himself with +his reluctant serf Ripton, who kept asking what they were +to do and where they were going, and how late it was in +the day, and suggesting that the lads of Lobourne would +be calling out for them, and Sir Austin requiring their +presence, without getting any attention paid to his misery +or remonstrances. For Richard had been requested by +his father to submit to medical examination like a boor +enlisting for a soldier, and he was in great wrath.</p> + +<p>He was flying as though he would have flown from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +shameful thought of what had been asked of him. By-and-by +he communicated his sentiments to Ripton, who +said they were those of a girl: an offensive remark, remembering +which, Richard, after they had borrowed a +couple of guns at the bailiff's farm, and Ripton had fired +badly, called his friend a fool.</p> + +<p>Feeling that circumstances were making him look wonderfully +like one, Ripton lifted his head and retorted +defiantly, "I'm not!"</p> + +<p>This angry contradiction, so very uncalled for, annoyed +Richard, who was still smarting at the loss of the +birds, owing to Ripton's bad shot, and was really the injured +party. He therefore bestowed the abusive epithet +on Ripton anew, and with increase of emphasis.</p> + +<p>"You shan't call me so, then, whether I am or not," +says Ripton, and sucks his lips.</p> + +<p>This was becoming personal. Richard sent up his +brows, and stared at his defier an instant. He then informed +him that he certainly should call him so, and +would not object to call him so twenty times.</p> + +<p>"Do it, and see!" returns Ripton, rocking on his feet, +and breathing quick.</p> + +<p>With a gravity of which only boys and other barbarians +are capable, Richard went through the entire number, +stressing the epithet to increase the defiance and avoid +monotony, as he progressed, while Ripton bobbed his head +every time in assent, as it were, to his comrade's accuracy, +and as a record for his profound humiliation. The dog +they had with them gazed at the extraordinary performance +with interrogating wags of the tail.</p> + +<p>Twenty times, duly and deliberately, Richard repeated +the obnoxious word.</p> + +<p>At the twentieth solemn iteration of Ripton's capital +shortcoming, Ripton delivered a smart back-hander on +Richard's mouth, and squared precipitately; perhaps sorry +when the deed was done, for he was a kind-hearted lad, +and as Richard simply bowed in acknowledgment of the +blow he thought he had gone too far. He did not know +the young gentleman he was dealing with. Richard was +extremely cool.</p> + +<p>"Shall we fight here?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Anywhere you like," replied Ripton.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A little more into the wood, I think. We may be interrupted." +And Richard led the way with a courteous +reserve that somewhat chilled Ripton's ardour for the +contest. On the skirts of the wood, Richard threw off his +jacket and waistcoat, and, quite collected, waited for +Ripton to do the same. The latter boy was flushed and +restless; older and broader, but not so tight-limbed and +well-set. The Gods, sole witnesses of their battle, betted +dead against him. Richard had mounted the white cockade +of the Feverels, and there was a look in him that +asked for tough work to extinguish. His brows, slightly +lined upward at the temples, converging to a knot about +the well-set straight nose; his full grey eyes, open nostrils, +and planted feet, and a gentlemanly air of calm and alertness, +formed a spirited picture of a young combatant. +As for Ripton, he was all abroad, and fought in schoolboy +style—that is, he rushed at the foe head foremost, +and struck like a windmill. He was a lumpy boy. When +he did hit, he made himself felt; but he was at the mercy +of science. To see him come dashing in, blinking and +puffing and whirling his arms abroad while the felling +blow went straight between them, you perceived that he +was fighting a fight of desperation, and knew it. For the +dreaded alternative glared him in the face that, if he +yielded, he must look like what he had been twenty times +calumniously called; and he would die rather than yield, +and swing his windmill till he dropped. Poor boy! he +dropped frequently. The gallant fellow fought for appearances, +and down he went. The Gods favour one of +two parties. Prince Turnus was a noble youth; but he had +not Pallas at his elbow. Ripton was a capital boy; he +had no science. He could not prove he was not a fool! +When one comes to think of it, Ripton did choose the only +possible way, and we should all of us have considerable +difficulty in proving the negative by any other. Ripton +came on the unerring fist again and again; and if it was +true, as he said in short colloquial gasps, that he required +as much beating as an egg to be beaten thoroughly, a +fortunate interruption alone saved our friend from resembling +that substance. The boys heard summoning +voices, and beheld Mr. Morton of Poer Hall and Austin +Wentworth stepping towards them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>A truce was sounded, jackets were caught up, guns +shouldered, and off they trotted in concert through the +depths of the wood, not stopping till that and half-a-dozen +fields and a larch plantation were well behind them.</p> + +<p>When they halted to take breath, there was a mutual +study of faces. Ripton's was much discoloured, and +looked fiercer with its natural war-paint than the boy +felt. Nevertheless, he squared up dauntlessly on the new +ground, and Richard, whose wrath was appeased, could +not refrain from asking him whether he had not really +had enough.</p> + +<p>"Never!" shouts the noble enemy.</p> + +<p>"Well, look here," said Richard, appealing to common +sense, "I'm tired of knocking you down. I'll say you're +not a fool, if you'll give me your hand."</p> + +<p>Ripton demurred an instant to consult with honour, +who bade him catch at his chance.</p> + +<p>He held out his hand. "There!" and the boys grasped +hands and were fast friends. Ripton had gained his +point, and Richard decidedly had the best of it. So they +were on equal ground. Both could claim a victory, which +was all the better for their friendship.</p> + +<p>Ripton washed his face and comforted his nose at a +brook, and was now ready to follow his friend wherever +he chose to lead. They continued to beat about for birds. +The birds on the Raynham estates were found singularly +cunning, and repeatedly eluded the aim of these prime +shots, so they pushed their expedition into the lands of +their neighbours, in search of a stupider race, happily +oblivious of the laws and conditions of trespass; unconscious, +too, that they were poaching on the demesne of +the notorious Farmer Blaize, the free-trade farmer under +the shield of the Papworths, no worshipper of the Griffin +between two Wheatsheaves; destined to be much allied +with Richard's fortunes from beginning to end. Farmer +Blaize hated poachers, and especially young chaps poaching, +who did it mostly from impudence. He heard the +audacious shots popping right and left, and going forth +to have a glimpse at the intruders, and observing their +size, swore he would teach my gentlemen a thing, lords +or no lords.</p> + +<p>Richard had brought down a beautiful cock-pheasant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +and was exulting over it, when the farmer's portentous +figure burst upon them, cracking an avenging horsewhip. +His salute was ironical.</p> + +<p>"Havin' good sport, gentlemen, are ye?"</p> + +<p>"Just bagged a splendid bird!" radiant Richard informed +him.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Farmer Blaize gave an admonitory flick of the +whip.</p> + +<p>"Just let me clap eye on't, then."</p> + +<p>"Say, please," interposed Ripton, who was not blind to +doubtful aspects.</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize threw up his chin, and grinned grimly.</p> + +<p>"Please to you, sir? Why, my chap, you looks as if ye +didn't much mind what come t'yer nose, I reckon. You +looks an old poacher, you do. Tall ye what 'tis!" He +changed his banter to business, "That bird's mine! Now +you jest hand him over, and sheer off, you dam young +scoundrels! I know ye!" And he became exceedingly +opprobrious, and uttered contempt of the name of Feverel.</p> + +<p>Richard opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>"If you wants to be horsewhipped, you'll stay where +y'are!" continued the farmer. "Giles Blaize never stands +nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Then we'll stay," quoth Richard.</p> + +<p>"Good! so be't! If you will have't, have't, my men!"</p> + +<p>As a preparatory measure, Farmer Blaize seized a wing +of the bird, on which both boys flung themselves desperately, +and secured it minus the pinion.</p> + +<p>"That's your game," cried the farmer. "Here's a taste +of horsewhip for ye. I never stands nonsense!" and +sweetch went the mighty whip, well swayed. The boys +tried to close with him. He kept his distance and lashed +without mercy. Black blood was made by Farmer Blaize +that day! The boys wriggled, in spite of themselves. It +was like a relentless serpent coiling, and biting, and stinging +their young veins to madness. Probably they felt the +disgrace of the contortions they were made to go through +more than the pain, but the pain was fierce, for the farmer +laid about from a practised arm, and did not consider +that he had done enough till he was well breathed and his +ruddy jowl inflamed. He paused, to receive the remainder +of the cock-pheasant in his face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take your beastly bird," cried Richard.</p> + +<p>"Money, my lads, and interest," roared the farmer, +lashing out again.</p> + +<p>Shameful as it was to retreat, there was but that +course open to them. They decided to surrender the +field.</p> + +<p>"Look! you big brute," Richard shook his gun, hoarse +with passion, "I'd have shot you, if I'd been loaded. +Mind! if I come across you when I'm loaded, you coward, +I'll fire!"</p> + +<p>The un-English nature of this threat exasperated +Farmer Blaize, and he pressed the pursuit in time to bestow +a few farewell stripes as they were escaping tight-breeched +into neutral territory. At the hedge they parleyed +a minute, the farmer to inquire if they had had a +mortal good tanning and were satisfied, for when they +wanted a further instalment of the same they were to +come for it to Belthorpe Farm, and there it was in pickle: +The boys meantime exploding in menaces and threats of +vengeance, on which the farmer contemptuously turned +his back. Ripton had already stocked an armful of flints +for the enjoyment of a little skirmishing. Richard, however, +knocked them all out, saying, "No! Gentlemen don't +fling stones; leave that to the blackguards."</p> + +<p>"Just one shy at him!" pleaded Ripton, with his eye +on Farmer Blaize's broad mark, and his whole mind +drunken with a sudden revelation of the advantages of +light troops in opposition to heavies.</p> + +<p>"No," said Richard, imperatively, "no stones," and +marched briskly away. Ripton followed with a sigh. His +leader's magnanimity was wholly beyond him. A good +spanking mark at the farmer would have relieved Master +Ripton; it would have done nothing to console Richard +Feverel for the ignominy he had been compelled to submit +to. Ripton was familiar with the rod, a monster much +despoiled of his terrors by intimacy. Birch-fever was +past with this boy. The horrible sense of shame, self-loathing, +universal hatred, impotent vengeance, as if the +spirit were steeped in abysmal blackness, which comes +upon a courageous and sensitive youth condemned for the +first time to taste this piece of fleshly bitterness, and +suffer what he feels is a defilement, Ripton had weathered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +and forgotten. He was seasoned wood, and took the world +pretty wisely; not reckless of castigation, as some boys +become, nor oversensitive as to dishonour, as his friend +and comrade beside him was.</p> + +<p>Richard's blood was poisoned. He had the fever on +him severely. He would not allow stone-flinging, because +it was a habit of his to discountenance it. Mere gentlemanly +considerations had scarce shielded Farmer Blaize, +and certain very ungentlemanly schemes were coming to +ghastly heads in the tumult of his brain; rejected solely +from their glaring impracticability even to his young +intelligence. A sweeping and consummate vengeance for +the indignity alone should satisfy him. Something tremendous +must be done, and done without delay. At one +moment he thought of killing all the farmer's cattle; next +of killing him; challenging him to single combat with the +arms, and according to the fashion of gentlemen. But +the farmer was a coward; he would refuse. Then he, +Richard Feverel, would stand by the farmer's bedside, and +rouse him; rouse him to fight with powder and ball in his +own chamber, in the cowardly midnight, where he might +tremble, but dare not refuse.</p> + +<p>"Lord!" cried simple Ripton, while these hopeful plots +were raging in his comrade's brain, now sparkling for immediate +execution, and anon lapsing disdainfully dark in +their chances of fulfilment, "how I wish you'd have let +me notch him, Ricky! I'm a safe shot. I never miss. I +should feel quite jolly if I'd spanked him once. We should +have had the best of him at that game. I say!" and a +sharp thought drew Ripton's ideas nearer home, "I wonder +whether my nose is as bad as he says! Where can I see +myself?"</p> + +<p>To these exclamations Richard was deaf, and he trudged +steadily forward, facing but one object.</p> + +<p>After tearing through innumerable hedges, leaping +fences, jumping dykes, penetrating brambly copses, and +getting dirty, ragged, and tired, Ripton awoke from his +dream of Farmer Blaize and a blue nose to the vivid +consciousness of hunger; and this grew with the rapidity +of light upon him, till in the course of another minute he +was enduring the extremes of famine, and ventured to +question his leader whither he was being conducted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +Raynham was out of sight. They were a long way down +the valley, miles from Lobourne, in a country of sour +pools, yellow brooks, rank pasturage, desolate heath. Solitary +cows were seen; the smoke of a mud cottage; a cart +piled with peat; a donkey grazing at leisure, oblivious of +an unkind world; geese by a horse-pond, gabbling as in +the first loneliness of creation; uncooked things that a +famishing boy cannot possibly care for, and must despise. +Ripton was in despair.</p> + +<p>"Where <i>are</i> you going to?" he inquired with a voice of +the last time of asking, and halted resolutely.</p> + +<p>Richard now broke his silence to reply, "Anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Anywhere!" Ripton took up the moody word. "But +ain't you awfully hungry?" he gasped vehemently, in a +way that showed the total emptiness of his stomach.</p> + +<p>"No," was Richard's brief response.</p> + +<p>"Not hungry!" Ripton's amazement lent him increased +vehemence. "Why, you haven't had anything to eat since +breakfast! Not hungry? I declare I'm starving. I feel +such a gnawing I could eat dry bread and cheese!"</p> + +<p>Richard sneered: not for reasons that would have +actuated a similar demonstration of the philosopher.</p> + +<p>"Come," cried Ripton, "at all events, tell us where +you're going to stop."</p> + +<p>Richard faced about to make a querulous retort. The +injured and hapless visage that met his eye disarmed him. +The lad's nose, though not exactly of the dreaded hue, +was really becoming discoloured. To upbraid him would +be cruel. Richard lifted his head, surveyed the position, +and exclaiming "Here!" dropped down on a withered bank, +leaving Ripton to contemplate him as a puzzle whose every +new move was a worse perplexity.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE MAGIAN CONFLICT</h3> + + +<p>Among boys there are laws of honour and chivalrous +codes, not written or formally taught, but intuitively +understood by all, and invariably acted upon by the loyal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +and the true. The race is not nearly civilized, we must +remember. Thus, not to follow your leader whithersoever +he may think proper to lead; to back out of an expedition +because the end of it frowns dubious, and the present +fruit of it is discomfort; to quit a comrade on the road, +and return home without him: these are tricks which no +boy of spirit would be guilty of, let him come to any description +of mortal grief in consequence. Better so than +have his own conscience denouncing him sneak. Some +boys who behave boldly enough are not troubled by this +conscience, and the eyes and the lips of their fellows +have to supply the deficiency. They do it with just as +haunting, and even more horrible pertinacity, than the +inner voice, and the result, if the probation be not very +severe and searching, is the same. The leader can rely on +the faithfulness of his host: the comrade is sworn to serve. +Master Ripton Thompson was naturally loyal. The idea +of turning off and forsaking his friend never once crossed +his mind, though his condition was desperate, and his +friend's behaviour that of a Bedlamite. He announced +several times impatiently that they would be too late for +dinner. His friend did not budge. Dinner seemed nothing +to him. There he lay plucking grass, and patting the +old dog's nose, as if incapable of conceiving what a thing +hunger was. Ripton took half-a-dozen turns up and down, +and at last flung himself down beside the taciturn boy, +accepting his fate.</p> + +<p>Now, the chance that works for certain purposes sent a +smart shower from the sinking sun, and the wet sent two +strangers for shelter in the lane behind the hedge where +the boys reclined. One was a travelling tinker, who lit a +pipe and spread a tawny umbrella. The other was a burly +young countryman, pipeless and tentless. They saluted +with a nod, and began recounting for each other's benefit +the day-long doings of the weather, as it had affected their +individual experience and followed their prophecies. Both +had anticipated and foretold a bit of rain before night, +and therefore both welcomed the wet with satisfaction. +A monotonous betweenwhiles kind of talk they kept droning, +in harmony with the still hum of the air. From the +weather theme they fell upon the blessings of tobacco; +how it was the poor man's friend, his company, his consolation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +his comfort, his refuge at night, his first thought +in the morning.</p> + +<p>"Better than a wife!" chuckled the tinker. "No curtain-lecturin' +with a pipe. Your pipe an't a shrew."</p> + +<p>"That be it!" the other chimed in. "Your pipe doan't +mak' ye out wi' all the cash Saturday evenin'."</p> + +<p>"Take one," said the tinker, in the enthusiasm of the +moment, handing a grimy short clay. Speed-the-Plough +filled from the tinker's pouch, and continued his praises.</p> + +<p>"Penny a day, and there y'are, primed! Better than a +wife? Ha, ha!"</p> + +<p>"And you can get rid of it, if ye wants for to, and when +ye wants," added tinker.</p> + +<p>"So ye can!" Speed-the-Plough took him up. "And ye +doan't want for to. Leastways, t'other case. I means pipe."</p> + +<p>"And," continued tinker, comprehending him perfectly, +"it don't bring repentance after it."</p> + +<p>"Not nohow, master, it doan't! And"—Speed-the-Plough +cocked his eye—"it doan't eat up half the victuals, +your pipe doan't."</p> + +<p>Here the honest yeoman gesticulated his keen sense of +a clincher, which the tinker acknowledged; and having, +so to speak, sealed up the subject by saying the best thing +that could be said, the two smoked for some time in silence +to the drip and patter of the shower.</p> + +<p>Ripton solaced his wretchedness by watching them +through the briar hedge. He saw the tinker stroking a +white cat, and appealing to her, every now and then, as +his missus, for an opinion or a confirmation; and he +thought that a curious sight. Speed-the-Plough was +stretched at full length, with his boots in the rain, and his +head amidst the tinker's pots, smoking, profoundly contemplative. +The minutes seemed to be taken up alternately +by the grey puffs from their mouths.</p> + +<p>It was the tinker who renewed the colloquy. Said he, +"Times is bad!"</p> + +<p>His companion assented, "Sure-ly!"</p> + +<p>"But it somehow comes round right," resumed the +tinker. "Why, look here. Where's the good o' moping? +I sees it all come round right and tight. Now I travels +about. I've got my beat. 'Casion calls me t'other day +to Newcastle!—Eh?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Coals!" ejaculated Speed-the-Plough sonorously.</p> + +<p>"Coals!" echoed the tinker. "You ask what I goes there +for, mayhap? Never you mind. One sees a mort o' life +in my trade. Not for coals it isn't. And I don't carry +'em there, neither. Anyhow, I comes back. London's my +mark. Says I, I'll see a bit o' the sea, and steps aboard +a collier. We were as nigh wrecked as the prophet Paul."</p> + +<p>"—A—who's him?" the other wished to know.</p> + +<p>"Read your Bible," said the tinker. "We pitched and +tossed—'tain't that game at sea 'tis on land, I can tell +ye! I thinks, down we're a-going—say your prayers, Bob +Tiles! That was a night, to be sure! But God's above +the devil, and here I am, ye see."</p> + +<p>Speed-the-Plough lurched round on his elbow and regarded +him indifferently. "D'ye call that doctrin'? He +bean't al'ays, or I shoo'n't be scrapin' my heels wi' nothin' +to do, and, what's warse, nothin' to eat. Why, look heer. +Luck's luck, and bad luck's the contrary. Varmer Bollop, +t'other day, has's rick burnt down. Next night his +gran'ry's burnt. What do he tak' and go and do? He +takes and goes and hangs unsel', and turns us out of his +employ. God warn't above the devil then, I thinks, or +I can't make out the reckonin'."</p> + +<p>The tinker cleared his throat, and said it was a bad +case.</p> + +<p>"And a darn'd bad case. I'll tak' my oath on't!" cried +Speed-the-Plough. "Well, look heer! Heer's another +darn'd bad case. I threshed for Varmer Blaize—Blaize +o' Beltharpe—afore I goes to Varmer Bollop. Varmer +Blaize misses pilkins. He swears our chaps steals pilkins. +'Twarn't me steals 'em. What do <i>he</i> tak' and go and do? +He takes and tarns us off, me and another, neck and crop, +to scuffle about and starve, for all <i>he</i> keers. God warn't +above the devil then, I thinks. Not nohow, as I can see!"</p> + +<p>The tinker shook his head, and said that was a bad case +also.</p> + +<p>"And you can't mend it," added Speed-the-Plough. +"It's bad, and there it be. But I'll tell ye what, master. +Bad wants payin' for." He nodded and winked mysteriously. +"Bad has its wages as well's honest work, I'm +thinkin'. Varmer Bollop I don't owe no grudge to: +Varmer Blaize I do. And I shud like to stick a Lucifer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +in his rick some dry windy night." Speed-the-Plough +screwed up an eye villainously. "He wants hittin' in the +wind,—jest where the pocket is, master, do Varmer Blaize, +and he'll cry out 'O Lor'!' Varmer Blaize will. You won't +get the better o' Varmer Blaize by no means, as I makes +out, if ye doan't hit into him jest there."</p> + +<p>The tinker sent a rapid succession of white clouds from +his mouth, and said that would be taking the devil's side +of a bad case. Speed-the-Plough observed energetically +that, if Farmer Blaize was on the other, he should be on +that side.</p> + +<p>There was a young gentleman close by, who thought +with him. The hope of Raynham had lent a careless half-compelled +attention to the foregoing dialogue, wherein a +common labourer and a travelling tinker had propounded +and discussed one of the most ancient theories of transmundane +dominion and influence on mundane affairs. He +now started to his feet, and came tearing through the +briar hedge, calling out for one of them to direct them +the nearest road to Bursley. The tinker was kindling preparations +for his tea, under the tawny umbrella. A loaf +was set forth, on which Ripton's eyes, stuck in the hedge, +fastened ravenously. Speed-the-Plough volunteered information +that Bursley was a good three mile from +where they stood, and a good eight mile from Lobourne.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you half-a-crown for that loaf, my good fellow," +said Richard to the tinker.</p> + +<p>"It's a bargain," quoth the tinker, "eh, missus?"</p> + +<p>His cat replied by humping her back at the dog.</p> + +<p>The half-crown was tossed down, and Ripton, who had +just succeeded in freeing his limbs from the briar, prickly +as a hedgehog, collared the loaf.</p> + +<p>"Those young squires be sharp-set, and no mistake," +said the tinker to his companion. "Come! we'll to Bursley +after 'em, and talk it out over a pot o' beer." Speed-the-Plough +was nothing loath, and in a short time they +were following the two lads on the road to Bursley, while +a horizontal blaze shot across the autumn land from the +Western edge of the rain-cloud.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>ARSON</h3> + + +<p>Search for the missing boys had been made everywhere +over Raynham, and Sir Austin was in grievous discontent. +None had seen them save Austin Wentworth and +Mr. Morton. The baronet sat construing their account of +the flight of the lads when they were hailed, and resolved +it into an act of rebellion on the part of his son. At +dinner he drank the young heir's health in ominous +silence. Adrian Harley stood up in his place to propose +the health. His speech was a fine piece of rhetoric. He +warmed in it till, after the Ciceronic model, inanimate +objects were personified, and Richard's table-napkin and +vacant chair were invoked to follow the steps of a peerless +father, and uphold with his dignity the honour of the +Feverels. Austin Wentworth, whom a soldier's death compelled +to take his father's place in support of the toast, +was tame after such magniloquence. But the reply, the +thanks which young Richard should have delivered in person +were not forthcoming. Adrian's oratory had given but +a momentary life to napkin and chair. The company of +honoured friends, and aunts, and uncles, and remotest +cousins, were glad to disperse and seek amusement in +music and tea. Sir Austin did his utmost to be hospitably +cheerful, and requested them to dance. If he had desired +them to laugh he would have been obeyed, and in +as hearty a manner.</p> + +<p>"How triste!" said Mrs. Doria Forey to Lobourne's +curate, as that most enamoured automaton went through +his paces beside her with professional stiffness.</p> + +<p>"One who does not suffer can hardly assent," the curate +answered, basking in her beams.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are good!" exclaimed the lady. "Look at my +Clare. She will not dance on her cousin's birthday with +any one but him. What are we to do to enliven these +people?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, madam! you cannot do for all what you do for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +one," the curate sighed, and wherever she wandered in +discourse, drew her back with silken strings to gaze on +his enamoured soul.</p> + +<p>He was the only gratified stranger present. The others +had designs on the young heir. Lady Attenbury of Longford +House had brought her highly-polished specimen of +marketware, the Lady Juliana Jaye, for a first introduction +to him, thinking he had arrived at an age to estimate +and pine for her black eyes and pretty pert mouth. The +Lady Juliana had to pair off with a dapper Papworth, +and her mama was subjected to the gallantries of Sir +Miles, who talked land and steam-engines to her till she +was sick, and had to be impertinent in self-defence. Lady +Blandish, the delightful widow, sat apart with Adrian, +and enjoyed his sarcasms on the company. By ten at +night the poor show ended, and the rooms were dark, +dark as the prognostics multitudinously hinted by the disappointed +and chilled guests concerning the probable +future of the hope of Raynham. Little Clare kissed her +mama, curtsied to the lingering curate, and went to bed +like a very good girl. Immediately the maid had departed, +little Clare deliberately exchanged night attire for that of +day. She was noted as an obedient child. Her light was +always allowed to burn in her room for half-an-hour, to +counteract her fears of the dark. She took the light, and +stole on tiptoe to Richard's room. No Richard was there. +She peeped in further and further. A trifling agitation +of the curtains shot her back through the door and along +the passage to her own bedchamber with extreme expedition. +She was not much alarmed, but feeling guilty she +was on her guard. In a short time she was prowling about +the passages again. Richard had slighted and offended +the little lady, and was to be asked whether he did not +repent such conduct toward his cousin; not to be asked +whether he had forgotten to receive his birthday kiss from +her; for, if he did not choose to remember that, Miss +Clare would never remind him of it, and to-night should +be his last chance of a reconciliation. Thus she meditated, +sitting on a stair, and presently heard Richard's voice +below in the hall, shouting for supper.</p> + +<p>"Master Richard has returned," old Benson the butler +tolled out intelligence to Sir Austin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well?" said the baronet.</p> + +<p>"He complains of being hungry," the butler hesitated, +with a look of solemn disgust.</p> + +<p>"Let him eat."</p> + +<p>Heavy Benson hesitated still more as he announced +that the boy had called for wine. It was an unprecedented +thing. Sir Austin's brows were portending an arch, but +Adrian suggested that he wanted possibly to drink his +birthday, and claret was conceded.</p> + +<p>The boys were in the vortex of a partridge-pie when +Adrian strolled in to them. They had now changed characters. +Richard was uproarious. He drank a health with +every glass; his cheeks were flushed and his eyes brilliant. +Ripton looked very much like a rogue on the tremble of +detection, but his honest hunger and the partridge-pie +shielded him awhile from Adrian's scrutinizing glance. +Adrian saw there was matter for study, if it were only +on Master Ripton's betraying nose, and sat down to hear +and mark.</p> + +<p>"Good sport, gentlemen, I trust to hear?" he began his +quiet banter, and provoked a loud peal of laughter from +Richard.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha! I say, Rip: 'Havin' good sport, gentlemen, +are ye?' You remember the farmer! Your health, +parson! We haven't had our sport yet. We're going to +have some first-rate sport. Oh, well! we haven't much +show of birds. We shot for pleasure, and returned them +to the proprietors. You're fond of game, parson! Ripton +is a dead shot in what Cousin Austin calls the Kingdom +of 'would-have-done' and 'might-have-been.' Up went the +birds, and cries Rip, 'I've forgotten to load!' Oh, ho!—Rip! +some more claret—Do just leave that nose of yours +alone.—Your health, Ripton Thompson! The birds hadn't +the decency to wait for him, and so, parson, it's their +fault, and not Rip's, you haven't a dozen brace at your +feet. What have you been doing at home, Cousin Rady?"</p> + +<p>"Playing Hamlet, in the absence of the Prince of Denmark. +The day without you, my dear boy, must be dull, +you know."</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'He speaks: can I trust what he says is sincere?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's an edge to his smile that cuts much like a sneer.'<br /></span> +</div></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> + +<p>Sandoe's poems! You know the couplet, Mr. Rady. Why +shouldn't I quote Sandoe? You know you like him, Rady. +But, if you've missed me, I'm sorry. Rip and I have had +a beautiful day. We've made new acquaintances. We've +seen the world. I'm the monkey that has seen the world, +and I'm going to tell you all about it. First, there's a +gentleman who takes a rifle for a fowling-piece. Next, +there's a farmer who warns everybody, gentleman and +beggar, off his premises. Next, there's a tinker and a +ploughman, who think that God is always fighting with +the devil which shall command the kingdoms of the earth. +The tinker's for God, and the ploughman"——</p> + +<p>"I'll drink your health, Ricky," said Adrian, interrupting.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot, parson;—I mean no harm, Adrian. I'm +only telling what I've heard."</p> + +<p>"No harm, my dear boy," returned Adrian. "I'm perfectly +aware that Zoroaster is not dead. You have been +listening to a common creed. Drink the Fire-worshippers, +if you will."</p> + +<p>"Here's to Zoroaster, then!" cried Richard. "I say, +Rippy! we'll drink the Fire-worshippers to-night, won't +we?"</p> + +<p>A fearful conspiratorial frown, that would not have disgraced +Guido Fawkes, was darted back from the plastic +features of Master Ripton.</p> + +<p>Richard gave his lungs loud play.</p> + +<p>"Why, what did you say about Blaizes, Rippy? Didn't +you say it was fun?"</p> + +<p>Another hideous and silencing frown was Ripton's +answer. Adrian watched the innocent youths, and knew +that there was talking under the table. "See," thought +he, "this boy has tasted his first scraggy morsel of life +to-day, and already he talks like an old stager, and has, +if I mistake not, been acting too. My respected chief," +he apostrophized Sir Austin, "combustibles are only the +more dangerous for compression. This boy will be ravenous +for Earth when he is let loose, and very soon make +his share of it look as foolish as yonder game-pie!"—a +prophecy Adrian kept to himself.</p> + +<p>Uncle Algernon shambled in to see his nephew before +the supper was finished, and his more genial presence +brought out a little of the plot.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look here, uncle!" said Richard. "Would you let a +churlish old brute of a farmer strike you without making +him suffer for it?"</p> + +<p>"I fancy I should return the compliment, my lad," replied +his uncle.</p> + +<p>"Of course you would! So would I. And he shall +suffer for it." The boy looked savage, and his uncle +patted him down.</p> + +<p>"I've boxed his son; I'll box him," said Richard, shouting +for more wine.</p> + +<p>"What, boy! Is it old Blaize has been putting you up?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, uncle!" The boy nodded mysteriously.</p> + +<p>Look there! Adrian read on Ripton's face, he says +"never mind," and lets it out!</p> + +<p>"Did we beat to-day, uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, boy; and we'd beat them any day they bowl fair. +I'd beat them on one leg. There's only Natkins and +Featherdene among them worth a farthing."</p> + +<p>"We beat!" cries Richard. "Then we'll have some more +wine, and drink their healths."</p> + +<p>The bell was <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'run'">rung</ins>; wine ordered. Presently comes in +heavy Benson, to say supplies are cut off. One bottle, +and no more. The Captain whistled; Adrian shrugged.</p> + +<p>The bottle, however, was procured by Adrian subsequently. +He liked studying intoxicated urchins.</p> + +<p>One subject was at Richard's heart, about which he +was reserved in the midst of his riot. Too proud to inquire +how his father had taken his absence, he burned to +hear whether he was in disgrace. He led to it repeatedly, +and it was constantly evaded by Algernon and Adrian. +At last, when the boy declared a desire to wish his father +good-night, Adrian had to tell him that he was to go +straight to bed from the supper-table. Young Richard's +face fell at that, and his gaiety forsook him. He marched +to his room without another word.</p> + +<p>Adrian gave Sir Austin an able version of his son's +behaviour and adventures; dwelling upon this sudden +taciturnity when he heard of his father's resolution not +to see him. The wise youth saw that his chief was mollified +behind his moveless mask, and went to bed, and +Horace, leaving Sir Austin in his study. Long hours the +baronet sat alone. The house had not its usual influx<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +of Feverels that day. Austin Wentworth was staying at +Poer Hall, and had only come over for an hour. At midnight +the house breathed sleep. Sir Austin put on his +cloak and cap, and took the lamp to make his rounds. +He apprehended nothing special, but with a mind never +at rest he constituted himself the sentinel of Raynham. +He passed the chamber where the Great-Aunt Grantley +lay, who was to swell Richard's fortune, and so perform +her chief business on earth. By her door he murmured, +"Good creature! you sleep with a sense of duty done," +and paced on, reflecting, "She has not made money a +demon of discord," and blessed her. He had his thoughts +at Hippias's somnolent door, and to them the world might +have subscribed.</p> + +<p>A monomaniac at large, watching over sane people in +slumber! thinks Adrian Harley, as he hears Sir Austin's +footfall, and truly that was a strange object to see.—Where +is the fortress that has not one weak gate? where +the man who is sound at each particular angle? Ay, +meditates the recumbent cynic, more or less mad is not +every mother's son? Favourable circumstances—good air, +good company, two or three good rules rigidly adhered +to—keep the world out of Bedlam. But, let the world fly +into a passion, and is not Bedlam the safest abode for it?</p> + +<p>Sir Austin ascended the stairs, and bent his steps leisurely +toward the chamber where his son was lying in the +left wing of the Abbey. At the end of the gallery which led +to it he discovered a dim light. Doubting it an illusion, +Sir Austin accelerated his pace. This wing had aforetime +a bad character. Notwithstanding what years had done to +polish it into fair repute, the Raynham kitchen stuck to +tradition, and preserved certain stories of ghosts seen +there, that effectually blackened it in the susceptible minds +of new housemaids and under-cooks, whose fears would +not allow the sinner to wash his sins. Sir Austin had +heard of the tales circulated by his domestics underground. +He cherished his own belief, but discouraged +theirs, and it was treason at Raynham to be caught +traducing the left wing. As the baronet advanced, the +fact of a light burning was clear to him. A slight descent +brought him into the passage, and he beheld a poor human +candle standing outside his son's chamber. At the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +moment a door closed hastily. He entered Richard's +room. The boy was absent. The bed was unpressed: no +clothes about: nothing to show that he had been there that +night. Sir Austin felt vaguely apprehensive. Has he +gone to my room to await me? thought the father's heart. +Something like a tear quivered in his arid eyes as he +meditated and hoped this might be so. His own sleeping-room +faced that of his son. He strode to it with a quick +heart. It was empty. Alarm dislodged anger from his +jealous heart, and dread of evil put a thousand questions +to him that were answered in air. After pacing up and +down his room he determined to go and ask the boy +Thompson, as he called Ripton, what was known to him.</p> + +<p>The chamber assigned to Master Ripton Thompson was +at the northern extremity of the passage, and overlooked +Lobourne and the valley to the West. The bed stood between +the window and the door. Sir Austin found the +door ajar, and the interior dark. To his surprise, the +boy Thompson's couch, as revealed by the rays of his lamp, +was likewise vacant. He was turning back when he +fancied he heard the sibilation of a whispering in the +room. Sir Austin cloaked the lamp and trod silently toward +the window. The heads of his son Richard and the +boy Thompson were seen crouched against the glass, +holding excited converse together. Sir Austin listened, +but he listened to a language of which he possessed not +the key. Their talk was of fire, and of delay: of expected +agrarian astonishment: of a farmer's huge wrath: of violence +exercised upon gentlemen, and of vengeance: talk +that the boys jerked out by fits, and that came as broken +links of a chain impossible to connect. But they awoke +curiosity. The baronet condescended to play the spy upon +his son.</p> + +<p>Over Lobourne and the valley lay black night and innumerable +stars.</p> + +<p>"How jolly I feel!" exclaimed Ripton, inspired by +claret; and then, after a luxurious pause—"I think that +fellow has pocketed his guinea, and cut his lucky."</p> + +<p>Richard allowed a long minute to pass, during which +the baronet waited anxiously for his voice, hardly recognizing +it when he heard its altered tones.</p> + +<p>"If he has, I'll go; and I'll do it myself."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You would?" returned Master Ripton. "Well, I'm +hanged!—I say, if you went to school, wouldn't you get +into rows! Perhaps he hasn't found the place where the +box was stuck in. I think he funks it. I almost wish you +hadn't done it, upon my honour—eh? Look there! what +was that? That looked like something.—I say! do you +think we shall ever be found out?"</p> + +<p>Master Ripton intoned this abrupt interrogation very +seriously.</p> + +<p>"I don't think about it," said Richard, all his faculties +bent on signs from Lobourne.</p> + +<p>"Well, but," Ripton persisted, "suppose we are found +out?"</p> + +<p>"If we are, I must pay for it."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin breathed the better for this reply. He was +beginning to gather a clue to the dialogue. His son was +engaged in a plot, and was, moreover, the leader of the +plot. He listened for further enlightenment.</p> + +<p>"What was the fellow's name?" inquired Ripton.</p> + +<p>His companion answered, "Tom Bakewell."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what," continued Ripton. "You let it all +clean out to your cousin and uncle at supper. How capital +claret is with partridge-pie! What a lot I ate!—Didn't +you see me frown?"</p> + +<p>The young sensualist was in an ecstasy of gratitude to +his late refection, and the slightest word recalled him to +it. Richard answered him—</p> + +<p>"Yes; and felt your kick. It doesn't matter. Rady's +safe, and uncle never blabs."</p> + +<p>"Well, my plan is to keep it close. You're never safe if +you don't.—I never drank much claret before," Ripton +was off again. "Won't I now, though! claret's my wine. +You know, it may come out any day, and then we're done +for," he rather incongruously appended.</p> + +<p>Richard only took up the business-thread of his friend's +rambling chatter, and answered—</p> + +<p>"You've got nothing to do with it, if we are."</p> + +<p>"Haven't I, though! I didn't stick in the box, but I'm +an accomplice, that's clear. Besides," added Ripton, "do +you think I should leave you to bear it all on your +shoulders? I ain't that sort of chap, Ricky, I can tell +you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sir Austin thought more highly of the boy Thompson. +Still it looked a detestable conspiracy, and the altered +manner of his son impressed him strangely. He was not +the boy of yesterday. To Sir Austin it seemed as if a gulf +had suddenly opened between them. The boy had embarked, +and was on the waters of life in his own vessel. +It was as vain to call him back as to attempt to erase +what Time has written with the Judgment Blood! This +child, for whom he had prayed nightly in such a fervour +and humbleness to God, the dangers were about him, the +temptations thick on him, and the devil on board piloting. +If a day had done so much, what would years do? Were +prayers and all the watchfulness he had expended of no +avail?</p> + +<p>A sensation of infinite melancholy overcame the poor +gentleman—a thought that he was fighting with a fate in +this beloved boy.</p> + +<p>He was half disposed to arrest the two conspirators on +the spot, and make them confess, and absolve themselves; +but it seemed to him better to keep an unseen eye over +his son: Sir Austin's old system prevailed.</p> + +<p>Adrian characterized this system well, in saying that +Sir Austin wished to be Providence to his son.</p> + +<p>If immeasurable love were perfect wisdom, one human +being might almost impersonate Providence to another. +Alas! love, divine as it is, can do no more than lighten +the house it inhabits—must take its shape, sometimes intensify +its narrowness—can spiritualize, but not expel, the +old life-long lodgers above-stairs and below.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin decided to continue quiescent.</p> + +<p>The valley still lay black beneath the large autumnal +stars, and the exclamations of the boys were becoming +fevered and impatient. By-and-by one insisted that he +had seen a twinkle. The direction he gave was out of +their anticipations. Again the twinkle was announced. +Both boys started to their feet. It was a twinkle in the +right direction now.</p> + +<p>"He's done it!" cried Richard, in great heat. "Now +you may say old Blaize'll soon be old Blazes, Rip. I hope +he's asleep."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he's snoring!—Look there! He's alight fast +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>enough. He's dry. He'll burn.—I say," Ripton re-assumed +the serious intonation, "do you think they'll ever +suspect us?"</p> + +<p>"What if they do? We must brunt it."</p> + +<p>"Of course we will. But, I say! I wish you hadn't +given them the scent, though. I like to look innocent. +I can't when I know people suspect me. Lord! look there! +Isn't it just beginning to flare up!"</p> + +<p>The farmer's grounds were indeed gradually standing +out in sombre shadows.</p> + +<p>"I'll fetch my telescope," said Richard. Ripton, somehow +not liking to be left alone, caught hold of him.</p> + +<p>"No; don't go and lose the best of it. Here, I'll throw +open the window, and we can see."</p> + +<p>The window was flung open, and the boys instantly +stretched half their bodies out of it; Ripton appearing to +devour the rising flames with his mouth: Richard with +his eyes.</p> + +<p>Opaque and statuesque stood the figure of the baronet +behind them. The wind was low. Dense masses of smoke +hung amid the darting snakes of fire, and a red malign +light was on the neighbouring leafage. No figures could +be seen. Apparently the flames had nothing to contend +against, for they were making terrible strides into the +darkness.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" shouted Richard, overcome by excitement, "if I +had my telescope! We must have it! Let me go and +fetch it! I will!"</p> + +<p>The boys struggled together, and Sir Austin stepped +back. As he did so, a cry was heard in the passage. He +hurried out, closed the chamber, and came upon little +Clare lying senseless along the floor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>ADRIAN PLIES HIS HOOK</h3> + + +<p>In the morning that followed this night, great gossip +was interchanged between Raynham and Lobourne. The +village told how Farmer Blaize, of Belthorpe Farm, had +his rick feloniously set fire to; his stables had caught fire,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +himself had been all but roasted alive in the attempt to +rescue his cattle, of which numbers had perished in the +flames. Raynham counterbalanced arson with an authentic +ghost seen by Miss Clare in the left wing of the +Abbey—the ghost of a lady, dressed in deep mourning, +a scar on her forehead, and a bloody handkerchief at her +breast, frightful to behold! and no wonder the child was +frightened out of her wits, and lay in a desperate State +awaiting the arrival of the London doctors. It was added +that the servants had all threatened to leave in a body, +and that Sir Austin to appease them had promised to pull +down the entire left wing, like a gentleman; for no decent +creature, said Lobourne, could consent to live in a haunted +house.</p> + +<p>Rumour for the nonce had a stronger spice of truth than +usual. Poor little Clare lay ill, and the calamity that had +befallen Farmer Blaize, as regards his rick, was not much +exaggerated. Sir Austin caused an account of it to be +given him at breakfast, and appeared so scrupulously +anxious to hear the exact extent of injury sustained by +the farmer that heavy Benson went down to inspect the +scene. Mr. Benson returned, and, acting under Adrian's +malicious advice, framed a formal report of the catastrophe, +in which the farmer's breeches figured, and certain +cooling applications to a part of the farmer's person. +Sir Austin perused it without a smile. He took occasion +to have it read out before the two boys, who listened very +demurely, as to an ordinary newspaper incident; only +when the report particularized the garments damaged, and +the unwonted distressing position Farmer Blaize was reduced +to in his bed, an indecorous fit of sneezing laid +hold of Master Ripton Thompson, and Richard bit his +lip and burst into loud laughter, Ripton joining him, lost +to consequences.</p> + +<p>"I trust you feel for this poor man," said Sir Austin +to his son, somewhat sternly. He saw no sign of feeling.</p> + +<p>It was a difficult task for Sir Austin to keep his old +countenance toward the hope of Raynham, knowing him +the accomplice-incendiary, and believing the deed to have +been unprovoked and wanton. But he must do so, he +knew, to let the boy have a fair trial against himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +Be it said, moreover, that the baronet's possession of his +son's secret flattered him. It allowed him to act, and in +a measure to feel, like Providence; enabled him to observe +and provide for the movements of creatures in the dark. +He therefore treated the boy as he commonly did, and +Richard saw no change in his father to make him think +he was suspected.</p> + +<p>The youngster's game was not so easy against Adrian. +Adrian did not shoot or fish. Voluntarily he did nothing +to work off the destructive nervous fluid, or whatever it +may be, which is in man's nature; so that two culprit +boys once in his power were not likely to taste the gentle +hand of mercy, and Richard and Ripton paid for many +a trout and partridge spared. At every minute of the day +Ripton was thrown into sweats of suspicion that discovery +was imminent, by some stray remark or message from +Adrian. He was as a fish with the hook in his gills, +mysteriously caught without having nibbled; and dive +into what depths he would he was sensible of a summoning +force that compelled him perpetually towards the +gasping surface, which he seemed inevitably approaching +when the dinner-bell sounded. There the talk was all of +Farmer Blaize. If it dropped, Adrian revived it, and his +caressing way with Ripton was just such as a keen +sportsman feels toward the creature that has owned his +skill, and is making its appearance for the world to +acknowledge the same. Sir Austin saw the man[oe]uvres, +and admired Adrian's shrewdness. But he had to check +the young natural lawyer, for the effect of so much masked +examination upon Richard was growing baneful. This +fish also felt the hook in his gills, but this fish was more +of a pike, and lay in different waters, where there were +old stumps and black roots to wind about, and defy alike +strong pulling and delicate handling. In other words, +Richard showed symptoms of a disposition to take refuge +in lies.</p> + +<p>"You know the grounds, my dear boy," Adrian observed +to him. "Tell me; do you think it easy to get to the rick +unperceived? I hear they suspect one of the farmer's +turned-off hands."</p> + +<p>"I tell you I don't know the grounds," Richard sullenly +replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not?" Adrian counterfeited courteous astonishment. +"I thought Mr. Thompson said you were over there yesterday?"</p> + +<p>Ripton, glad to speak a truth, hurriedly assured Adrian +that it was not he had said so.</p> + +<p>"Not? You had good sport, gentlemen, hadn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" mumbled the wretched victims, reddening as +they remembered, in Adrian's slightly drawled rusticity of +tone, Farmer Blaize's first address to them.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you were among the Fire-worshippers last +night, too?" persisted Adrian. "In some countries, I hear, +they manage their best sport at night-time, and beat up +for game with torches. It must be a fine sight. After +all, the country would be dull if we hadn't a rip here +and there to treat us to a little conflagration."</p> + +<p>"A rip!" laughed Richard, to his friend's disgust and +alarm at his daring. "You don't mean this Rip, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thompson fire a rick? I should as soon suspect +you, my dear boy.—You are aware, young gentlemen, that +it is rather a serious thing—eh? In this country, you +know, the landlord has always been the pet of the Laws. +By the way," Adrian continued, as if diverging to another +topic, "you met two gentlemen of the road in your explorations +yesterday, Magians. Now, if I were a magistrate +of the county, like Sir Miles Papworth, my suspicions +would light upon those gentlemen. A tinker and a +ploughman, I think you said, Mr. Thompson. Not? +Well, say two ploughmen."</p> + +<p>"More likely two tinkers," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"Oh! if you wish to exclude the ploughman—was he +out of employ?"</p> + +<p>Ripton, with Adrian's eyes inveterately fixed on him, +stammered an affirmative.</p> + +<p>"The tinker, or the ploughman?"</p> + +<p>"The ploughm—" Ingenuous Ripton looking about, as +if to aid himself whenever he was able to speak the truth, +beheld Richard's face blackening at him, and swallowed +back half the word.</p> + +<p>"The ploughman!" Adrian took him up cheerily. "Then +we have here a ploughman out of employ. Given a ploughman +out of employ, and a rick burnt. The burning of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>rick is an act of vengeance, and a ploughman out of employ<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">is a vengeful animal. The rick and the ploughman</span><br /> +are advancing to a juxtaposition. Motive being established, +we have only to prove their proximity at a certain +hour, and our ploughman voyages beyond seas."</p> + +<p>"Is it transportation for rick-burning?" inquired Ripton +aghast.</p> + +<p>Adrian spoke solemnly: "They shave your head. You +are manacled. Your diet is sour bread and cheese-parings. +You work in strings of twenties and thirties. <span class="smcap">Arson</span> is +branded on your backs in an enormous A. Theological +works are the sole literary recreation of the well-conducted +and deserving. Consider the fate of this poor fellow, and +what an act of vengeance brings him to! Do you know +his name?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know his name?" said Richard, with an +assumption of innocence painful to see.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin remarked that no doubt it would soon be +known, and Adrian perceived that he was to quiet his +line, marvelling a little at the baronet's blindness to +what was so clear. He would not tell, for that would +ruin his future influence with Richard; still he wanted +some present credit for his discernment and devotion. +The boys got away from dinner, and, after deep consultation, +agreed upon a course of conduct, which was to commiserate +Farmer Blaize loudly, and make themselves look +as much like the public as it was possible for two young +malefactors to look, one of whom already felt Adrian's +enormous A devouring his back with the fierceness of the +Promethean eagle, and isolating him for ever from mankind. +Adrian relished their novel tactics sharply, and +led them to lengths of lamentation for Farmer Blaize. +Do what they might, the hook was in their gills. The +farmer's whip had reduced them to bodily contortions: +these were decorous compared with the spiritual writhings +they had to perform under Adrian's manipulation. Ripton +was fast becoming a coward, and Richard a liar, when +next morning Austin Wentworth came over from Poer +Hall bringing news that one Mr. Thomas Bakewell, yeoman, +had been arrested on suspicion of the crime of +Arson and lodged in jail, awaiting the magisterial pleasure +of Sir Miles Papworth. Austin's eye rested on Richard +as he spoke these terrible tidings. The hope of Raynham<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +returned his look, perfectly calm, and had, moreover, the +presence of mind not to look at Ripton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>JUVENILE STRATAGEMS</h3> + + +<p>As soon as they could escape, the boys got away together +into an obscure corner of the park, and there took counsel +of their extremity.</p> + +<p>"Whatever shall we do now?" asked Ripton of his +leader.</p> + +<p>Scorpion girt with fire was never in a more terrible +prison-house than poor Ripton, around whom the raging +element he had assisted to create seemed to be drawing +momentary narrower circles.</p> + +<p>"There's only one chance," said Richard, coming to a +dead halt, and folding his arms resolutely.</p> + +<p>His comrade inquired with the utmost eagerness what +that chance might be.</p> + +<p>Richard fixed his eyes on a flint, and replied: "We must +rescue that fellow from jail."</p> + +<p>Ripton gazed at his leader, and fell back with astonishment. +"My dear Ricky! but how are we to do it?"</p> + +<p>Richard, still perusing his flint, replied: "We must +manage to get a file in to him and a rope. It can be +done, I tell you. I don't care what I pay. I don't care +what I do. He must be got out."</p> + +<p>"Bother that old Blaize!" exclaimed Ripton, taking off +his cap to wipe his frenzied forehead, and brought down +his friend's reproof.</p> + +<p>"Never mind old Blaize now. Talk about letting it +out! Look at you. I'm ashamed of you. You talk about +Robin Hood and King Richard! Why, you haven't an +atom of courage. Why, you let it out every second of +the day. Whenever Rady begins speaking you start; I +can see the perspiration rolling down you. Are you +afraid?—And then you contradict yourself. You never +keep to one story. Now, follow me. We must risk +everything to get him out. Mind that! And keep out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +of Adrian's way as much as you can. And keep to +one story."</p> + +<p>With these sage directions the young leader marched +his companion-culprit down to inspect the jail where Tom +Bakewell lay groaning over the results of the super-mundane +conflict, and the victim of it that he was.</p> + +<p>In Lobourne Austin Wentworth had the reputation of +the poor man's friend; a title he earned more largely ere +he went to the reward God alone can give to that supreme +virtue. Dame Bakewell, the mother of Tom, on hearing +of her son's arrest, had run to comfort him and render +him what help she could; but this was only sighs and +tears, and, oh deary me! which only perplexed poor Tom, +who bade her leave an unlucky chap to his fate, and not +make himself a thundering villain. Whereat the dame +begged him to take heart, and he should have a true comforter. +"And though it's a gentleman that's coming to +you, Tom—for he never refuses a poor body," said Mrs. +Bakewell, "it's a true Christian, Tom! and the Lord knows +if the sight of him mayn't be the saving of you, for he's +light to look on, and a sermon to listen to, he is!"</p> + +<p>Tom was not prepossessed by the prospect of a sermon, +and looked a sullen dog enough when Austin entered his +cell. He was surprised at the end of half-an-hour to find +himself engaged in man-to-man conversation with a gentleman +and a Christian. When Austin rose to go, Tom +begged permission to shake his hand.</p> + +<p>"Take and tell young master up at the Abbey that I +an't the chap to peach. He'll know. He's a young gentleman +as'll make any man do as he wants 'em! He's a +mortal wild young gentleman! And I'm a Ass! That's +where 'tis. But I an't a blackguard. Tell him that, +sir!"</p> + +<p>This was how it came that Austin eyed young Richard +seriously while he told the news at Raynham. The boy +was shy of Austin more than of Adrian. Why, he did +not know; but he made it a hard task for Austin to catch +him alone, and turned sulky that instant. Austin was not +clever like Adrian: he seldom divined other people's ideas, +and always went the direct road to his object; so instead +of beating about and setting the boy on the alert at all +points, crammed to the muzzle with lies, he just said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +"Tom Bakewell told me to let you know he does not +intend to peach on you," and left him.</p> + +<p>Richard repeated the intelligence to Ripton, who cried +aloud that Tom was a brick.</p> + +<p>"He shan't suffer for it," said Richard, and pondered +on a thicker rope and sharper file.</p> + +<p>"But will your cousin tell?" was Ripton's reflection.</p> + +<p>"He!" Richard's lip expressed contempt. "A ploughman +refuses to peach, and you ask if one of our family +will?"</p> + +<p>Ripton stood for the twentieth time reproved on this +point.</p> + +<p>The boys had examined the outer walls of the jail, and +arrived at the conclusion that Tom's escape might be managed +if Tom had spirit, and the rope and file could be +anyway reached to him. But to do this, somebody must +gain admittance to his cell, and who was to be taken into +their confidence?</p> + +<p>"Try your cousin," Ripton suggested, after much debate.</p> + +<p>Richard, smiling, wished to know if he meant Adrian.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" Ripton hurriedly reassured him. "Austin."</p> + +<p>The same idea was knocking at Richard's head.</p> + +<p>"Let's get the rope and file first," said he, and to Bursley +they went for those implements to defeat the law, Ripton +procuring the file at one shop and Richard the rope at +another, with such masterly cunning did they lay their +measures for the avoidance of every possible chance of detection. +And better to assure this, in a wood outside +Bursley Richard stripped to his shirt and wound the rope +round his body, tasting the tortures of anchorites and +penitential friars, that nothing should be risked to make +Tom's escape a certainty. Sir Austin saw the marks at +night as his son lay asleep, through the half-opened folds +of his bed-gown.</p> + +<p>It was a severe stroke when, after all their stratagems +and trouble, Austin Wentworth refused the office the boys +had zealously designed for him. Time pressed. In a few +days poor Tom would have to face the redoubtable Sir +Miles, and get committed, for rumours of overwhelming +evidence to convict him were rife about Lobourne, and +Farmer Blaize's wrath was unappeasable. Again and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +again young Richard begged his cousin not to see him +disgraced, and to help him in this extremity. Austin +smiled on him.</p> + +<p>"My dear Ricky," said he, "there are two ways of getting +out of a scrape: a long way and a short way. When +you've tried the roundabout method, and failed, come to +me, and I'll show you the straight route."</p> + +<p>Richard was too entirely bent upon the roundabout +method to consider this advice more than empty words, +and only ground his teeth at Austin's unkind refusal.</p> + +<p>He imparted to Ripton, at the eleventh hour, that they +must do it themselves, to which Ripton heavily assented.</p> + +<p>On the day preceding poor Tom's doomed appearance +before the magistrate, Dame Bakewell had an interview +with Austin, who went to Raynham immediately, and +sought Adrian's counsel upon what was to be done. +Homeric laughter and nothing else could be got out of +Adrian when he heard of the doings of these desperate +boys: how they had entered Dame Bakewell's smallest of +retail shops, and purchased tea, sugar, candles, and comfits +of every description, till the shop was clear of customers: +how they had then hurried her into her little +back-parlour, where Richard had torn open his shirt and +revealed the coils of rope, and Ripton displayed the point +of a file from a serpentine recess in his jacket: how they +had then told the astonished woman that the rope she saw +and the file she saw were instruments for the liberation +of her son; that there existed no other means on earth +to save him, they, the boys, having unsuccessfully attempted +all: how upon that Richard had tried with the +utmost earnestness to <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'pursuade'">persuade</ins> her to disrobe and wind +the rope round her own person: and Ripton had aired +his eloquence to induce her to secrete the file: how, when +she resolutely objected to the rope, both boys began backing +the file, and in an evil hour, she feared, said Dame +Bakewell, she had rewarded the gracious permission given +her by Sir Miles Papworth to visit her son, by tempting +Tom to file the Law. Though, thanks be to the Lord! +Dame Bakewell added, Tom had turned up his nose at +the file, and so she had told young Master Richard, who +swore very bad for a young gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Boys are like monkeys," remarked Adrian, at the close<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +of his explosions, "the gravest actors of farcical nonsense +that the world possesses. May I never be where there are +no boys! A couple of boys left to themselves will furnish +richer fun than any troop of trained comedians. No: no +Art arrives at the artlessness of nature in matters of +comedy. You can't simulate the ape. Your antics are +dull. They haven't the charming inconsequence of the +natural animal. Look at these two! Think of the shifts +they are put to all day long! They know I know all +about it, and yet their serenity of innocence is all but +unruffled in my presence. You're sorry to think about +the end of the business, Austin? So am I! I dread the +idea of the curtain going down. Besides, it will do Ricky +a world of good. A practical lesson is the best lesson."</p> + +<p>"Sinks deepest," said Austin, "but whether he learns +good or evil from it is the question at stake."</p> + +<p>Adrian stretched his length at ease.</p> + +<p>"This will be his first nibble at experience, old Time's +fruit, hateful to the palate of youth! for which season only +hath it any nourishment! Experience! You know Coleridge's +capital simile?—Mournful you call it? Well! all +wisdom is mournful. 'Tis therefore, coz, that the wise do +love the Comic Muse. Their own high food would kill +them. You shall find great poets, rare philosophers, night +after night on the broad grin before a row of yellow lights +and mouthing masks. Why? Because all's dark at home. +The stage is the pastime of great minds. That's how it +comes that the stage is now down. An age of rampant +little minds, my dear Austin! How I hate that cant of +yours about an Age of Work—you, and your Mortons, +and your parsons Brawnley, rank radicals all of you, base +materialists! What does Diaper Sandoe sing of your Age +of Work? Listen!</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'An Age of petty tit for tat,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">An Age of busy gabble:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An age that's like a brewer's vat,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fermenting for the rabble!<br /></span></div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'An Age that's chaste in Love, but lax<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To virtuous abuses:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose gentlemen and ladies wax<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Too dainty for their uses.<br /></span></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'An Age that drives an Iron Horse,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Time and Space defiant;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exulting in a Giant's Force,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And trembling at the Giant.<br /></span></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'An Age of Quaker hue and cut,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By Mammon misbegotten;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See the mad Hamlet mouth and strut!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And mark the Kings of Cotton!<br /></span></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'From this unrest, lo, early wreck'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A Future staggers crazy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ophelia of the Ages, deck'd<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With woeful weed and daisy!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Murmuring, "Get your parson Brawnley to answer +that!" Adrian changed the resting-place of a leg, and +smiled. The <span class="smcap">Age</span> was an old battle-field between him and +Austin.</p> + +<p>"My parson Brawnley, as you call him, has answered +it," said Austin, "not by hoping his best, which would +probably leave the Age to go mad to your satisfaction, +but by doing it. And he has and will answer your Diaper +Sandoe in better verse, as he confutes him in a better +life."</p> + +<p>"You don't see Sandoe's depth," Adrian replied. "Consider +that phrase, 'Ophelia of the Ages'! Is not Brawnley, +like a dozen other leading spirits—I think that's your +term—just the metaphysical Hamlet to drive her mad? +She, poor maid! asks for marriage and smiling babes, +while my lord lover stands questioning the Infinite, and +rants to the Impalpable."</p> + +<p>Austin laughed. "Marriage and smiling babes she +would have in abundance, if Brawnley legislated. Wait +till you know him. He will be over at Poer Hall shortly, +and you will see what a Man of the Age means. But now, +pray, consult with me about these boys."</p> + +<p>"Oh, those boys!" Adrian tossed a hand. "Are there +boys of the Age as well as men? Not? Then boys are +better than men: boys are for all Ages. What do you +think, Austin? They've been studying Latude's Escape. +I found the book open in Ricky's room, on the top of +Jonathan Wild. Jonathan preserved the secrets of his +profession, and taught them nothing. So they're going to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +make a Latude of Mr. Tom Bakewell. He's to be Bastille +Bakewell, whether he will or no. Let them. Let the wild +colt run free! We can't help them. We can only look +on. We should spoil the play."</p> + +<p>Adrian always made a point of feeding the fretful beast +Impatience with pleasantries—a not congenial diet; and +Austin, the most patient of human beings, began to lose +his self-control.</p> + +<p>"You talk as if Time belonged to you, Adrian. We +have but a few hours left us. Work first, and joke afterwards. +The boy's fate is being decided now."</p> + +<p>"So is everybody's, my dear Austin!" yawned the epicurean.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but this boy is at present under our guardianship—under +yours especially."</p> + +<p>"Not yet! not yet!" Adrian interjected languidly. "No +getting into scrapes when I have him. The leash, young +hound! the collar, young colt! I'm perfectly irresponsible +at present."</p> + +<p>"You may have something different to deal with when +you are responsible, if you think that."</p> + +<p>"I take my young prince as I find him, coz: a Julian, +or a Caracalla: a Constantine, or a Nero. Then, if he +will play the fiddle to a conflagration, he shall play it well: +if he must be a disputatious apostate, at any rate he shall +understand logic and men, and have the habit of saying +his prayers."</p> + +<p>"Then you leave me to act alone?" said Austin, rising.</p> + +<p>"Without a single curb!" Adrian gesticulated an acquiesced +withdrawal. "I'm sure you would not, still more +certain you cannot, do harm. And be mindful of my prophetic +words: Whatever's done, old Blaize will have to be +bought off. There's the affair settled at once. I suppose +I must go to the chief to-night and settle it myself. We +can't see this poor devil condemned, though it's nonsense +to talk of a boy being the prime instigator."</p> + +<p>Austin cast an eye at the complacent languor of the +wise youth, his cousin, and the little that he knew of his +fellows told him he might talk for ever here, and not be +comprehended. The wise youth's two ears were stuffed +with his own wisdom. One evil only Adrian dreaded, it +was clear—the action of the law.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>As he was moving away, Adrian called out to him, +"Stop, Austin! There! don't be anxious! You invariably +take the glum side. I've done something. Never mind +what. If you go down to Belthorpe, be civil, but not +obsequious. You remember the tactics of Scipio Africanus +against the Punic elephants? Well, don't say a +word—in thine ear, coz: I've turned Master Blaize's +elephants. If they charge, 'twill be a feint, and back to +the destruction of his serried ranks! You understand. +Not? Well, 'tis as well. Only, let none say that I sleep. +If I must see him to-night, I go down knowing he has +not got us in his power." The wise youth yawned, and +stretched out a hand for any book that might be within +his reach. Austin left him to look about the grounds for +Richard.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>DAPHNE'S BOWER</h3> + + +<p>A little laurel-shaded temple of white marble looked +out on the river from a knoll bordering the Raynham +beechwoods, and was dubbed by Adrian Daphne's Bower. +To this spot Richard had retired, and there Austin found +him with his head buried in his hands, a picture of desperation, +whose last shift has been defeated. He allowed +Austin to greet him and sit by him without lifting his +head. Perhaps his eyes were not presentable.</p> + +<p>"Where's your friend?" Austin began.</p> + +<p>"Gone!" was the answer, sounding cavernous from behind +hair and fingers. An explanation presently followed, +that a summons had come for him in the morning from +Mr. Thompson; and that Mr. Ripton had departed against +his will.</p> + +<p>In fact, Ripton had protested that he would defy his +parent and remain by his friend in the hour of adversity +and at the post of danger. Sir Austin signified his opinion +that a boy should obey his parent, by giving orders to +Benson for Ripton's box to be packed and ready before +noon; and Ripton's alacrity in taking the baronet's view +of filial duty was as little feigned as his offer to Richard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +to throw filial duty to the winds. He rejoiced that the +Fates had agreed to remove him from the very hot neighbourhood +of Lobourne, while he grieved, like an honest +lad, to see his comrade left to face calamity alone. The +boys parted amicably, as they could hardly fail to do, when +Ripton had sworn fealty to the Feverels with a warmth +that made him declare himself bond, and due to appear +at any stated hour and at any stated place to fight all the +farmers in England, on a mandate from the heir of the +house.</p> + +<p>"So you're left alone," said Austin, contemplating the +boy's shapely head. "I'm glad of it. We never know +what's in us till we stand by ourselves."</p> + +<p>There appeared to be no answer forthcoming. Vanity, +however, replied at last, "He wasn't much support."</p> + +<p>"Remember his good points now he's gone, Ricky."</p> + +<p>"Oh! he was staunch," the boy grumbled.</p> + +<p>"And a staunch friend is not always to be found. Now, +have you tried your own way of rectifying this business, +Ricky?"</p> + +<p>"I have done everything."</p> + +<p>"And failed!"</p> + +<p>There was a pause, and then the deep-toned evasion—</p> + +<p>"Tom Bakewell's a coward!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose, poor fellow," said Austin, in his kind way, +"he doesn't want to get into a deeper mess. I don't think +he's a coward."</p> + +<p>"He is a coward," cried Richard. "Do you think if I +had a file I would stay in prison? I'd be out the first +night! And he might have had the rope, too—a rope +thick enough for a couple of men his size and weight. +Ripton and I and Ned Markham swung on it for an hour, +and it didn't give way. He's a coward, and deserves his +fate. I've no compassion for a coward."</p> + +<p>"Nor I much," said Austin.</p> + +<p>Richard had raised his head in the heat of his denunciation +of poor Tom. He would have hidden it had he known +the thought in Austin's clear eyes while he faced them.</p> + +<p>"I never met a coward myself," Austin continued. "I +have heard of one or two. One let an innocent man die +for him."</p> + +<p>"How base!" exclaimed the boy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, it was bad," Austin acquiesced.</p> + +<p>"Bad!" Richard scorned the poor contempt. "How I +would have spurned him! He was a coward!"</p> + +<p>"I believe he pleaded the feelings of his family in his +excuse, and tried every means to get the man off. I have +read also in the confessions of a celebrated philosopher, +that in his youth he committed some act of pilfering, and +accused a young servant-girl of his own theft, who was +condemned and dismissed for it, pardoning her guilty +accuser."</p> + +<p>"What a coward!" shouted Richard. "And he confessed +it publicly?"</p> + +<p>"You may read it yourself."</p> + +<p>"He actually wrote it down, and printed it?"</p> + +<p>"You have the book in your father's library. Would +you have done so much?"</p> + +<p>Richard faltered. No! he admitted that he never could +have told people.</p> + +<p>"Then who is to call that man a coward?" <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Said'">said</ins> +Austin. "He expiated his cowardice as all who give way +in moments of weakness, and are not cowards, must do. +The coward chooses to think 'God does not see. I shall +escape.' He who is not a coward, and has succumbed, +knows that God has seen all, and it is not so hard a +task for him to make his heart bare to the world. Worse, +I should fancy it, to know myself an impostor when men +praised me."</p> + +<p>Young Richard's eyes were wandering on Austin's +gravely cheerful face. A keen intentness suddenly fixed +them, and he dropped his head.</p> + +<p>"So I think you're wrong, Ricky, in calling this poor +Tom a coward because he refuses to try your means of +escape," Austin resumed. "A coward hardly objects to +drag in his accomplice. And, where the person involved +belongs to a great family, it seems to me that for a poor +plough-lad to volunteer not to do so speaks him anything +but a coward."</p> + +<p>Richard was dumb. Altogether to surrender his rope +and file was a fearful sacrifice, after all the time, trepidation, +and study he had spent on those two saving instruments. +If he avowed Tom's manly behaviour, Richard +Feverel was in a totally new position. Whereas, by keeping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +Tom a coward, Richard Feverel was the injured one, +and to seem injured is always a luxury; sometimes a +necessity, whether among boys or men.</p> + +<p>In Austin the Magian conflict would not have lasted +long. He had but a blind notion of the fierceness with +which it raged in young Richard. Happily for the boy, +Austin was not a preacher. A single instance, a cant +phrase, a fatherly manner, might have wrecked him, by +arousing ancient or latent opposition. The born preacher +we feel instinctively to be our foe. He may do some good +to the wretches that have been struck down and lie gasping +on the battlefield: he rouses antagonism in the strong. +Richard's nature, left to itself, wanted little more than +an indication of the proper track, and when he said, +"Tell me what I can do, Austin?" he had fought the best +half of the battle. His voice was subdued. Austin put +his hand on the boy's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You must go down to Farmer Blaize."</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Richard, sullenly divining the deed of +penance.</p> + +<p>"You'll know what to say to him when you're there."</p> + +<p>The boy bit his lip and frowned. "Ask a favour of +that big brute, Austin? I can't!"</p> + +<p>"Just tell him the whole case, and that you don't intend +to stand by and let the poor fellow suffer without a friend +to help him out of his scrape."</p> + +<p>"But, Austin," the boy pleaded, "I shall have to ask +him to help off Tom Bakewell! How can I ask him, when +I hate him?"</p> + +<p>Austin bade him go, and think nothing of the consequences +till he got there.</p> + +<p>Richard groaned in soul.</p> + +<p>"You've no pride, Austin."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not."</p> + +<p>"You don't know what it is to ask a favour of a brute +you hate."</p> + +<p>Richard stuck to that view of the case, and stuck to it +the faster the more imperatively the urgency of a movement +dawned upon him.</p> + +<p>"Why," continued the boy, "I shall hardly be able to +keep my fists off him!"</p> + +<p>"Surely you've punished him enough, boy!" said Austin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He struck me!" Richard's lip quivered. "He dared +not come at me with his hands. He struck me with a +whip. He'll be telling everybody that he horsewhipped +me, and that I went down and begged his pardon. Begged +his pardon! A Feverel beg his pardon! Oh, if I had +my will!"</p> + +<p>"The man earns his bread, Ricky. You poached on his +grounds. He turned you off, and you fired his rick."</p> + +<p>"And I'll pay him for his loss. And I won't do any +more."</p> + +<p>"Because you won't ask a favour of him?"</p> + +<p>"No! I will not ask a favour of him."</p> + +<p>Austin looked at the boy steadily. "You prefer to receive +a favour from poor Tom Bakewell?"</p> + +<p>At Austin's enunciation of this obverse view of the +matter Richard raised his brow. Dimly a new light broke +in upon him. "Favour from Tom Bakewell, the ploughman? +How do you mean, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"To save yourself an unpleasantness you permit a +country lad to sacrifice himself for you? I confess I +should not have so much pride."</p> + +<p>"Pride!" shouted Richard, stung by the taunt, and set +his sight hard at the blue ridges of the hills.</p> + +<p>Not knowing for the moment what else to do, Austin +drew a picture of Tom in prison, and repeated Tom's +volunteer statement. The picture, though his intentions +were far from designing it so, had to Richard, whose perception +of humour was infinitely keener, a horrible chaw-bacon +smack about it. Visions of a grinning lout, open +from ear to ear, unkempt, coarse, splay-footed, rose before +him and afflicted him with the strangest sensations of +disgust and comicality, mixed up with pity and remorse—a +sort of twisted pathos. There lay Tom; hob-nail Tom! +a bacon-munching, reckless, beer-swilling animal! and yet +a man; a dear brave human heart notwithstanding; capable +of devotion and unselfishness. The boy's better +spirit was touched, and it kindled his imagination to +realize the abject figure of poor clodpole Tom, and surround +it with a halo of mournful light. His soul was +alive. Feelings he had never known streamed in upon him +as from an ethereal casement, an unwonted tenderness, +an embracing humour, a consciousness of some ineffable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +glory, an irradiation of the features of humanity. All +this was in the bosom of the boy, and through it all the +vision of an actual hob-nail Tom, coarse, unkempt, open +from ear to ear; whose presence was a finger of shame to +him and an oppression of clodpole; yet toward whom he +felt just then a loving-kindness beyond what he felt for +any living creature. He laughed at him, and wept over +him. He prized him, while he shrank from him. It was +a genial strife of the angel in him with constituents less +divine; but the angel was uppermost and led the van—extinguished +loathing, humanized laughter, transfigured +pride—pride that would persistently contemplate the corduroys +of gaping Tom, and cry to Richard, in the very +tone of Adrian's ironic voice, "Behold your benefactor!"</p> + +<p>Austin sat by the boy, unaware of the sublimer tumult +he had stirred. Little of it was perceptible in Richard's +countenance. The lines of his mouth were slightly drawn; +his eyes hard set into the distance. He remained thus +many minutes. Finally he jumped to his legs, saying, +"I'll go at once to old Blaize and tell him."</p> + +<p>Austin grasped his hand, and together they issued out +of Daphne's Bower, in the direction of Lobourne.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE BITTER CUP</h3> + + +<p>Farmer Blaize was not so astonished at the visit of +Richard Feverel as that young gentleman expected him to +be. The farmer, seated in his easy-chair in the little low-roofed +parlour of an old-fashioned farm-house, with a long +clay pipe on the table at his elbow, and a veteran pointer +at his feet, had already given audience to three distinguished +members of the Feverel blood, who had come +separately, according to their accustomed secretiveness, +and with one object. In the morning it was Sir Austin +himself. Shortly after his departure, arrived Austin +Wentworth; close on his heels, Algernon, known about +Lobourne as the Captain, popular wherever he was known. +Farmer Blaize reclined in considerable elation. He had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +brought these great people to a pretty low pitch. He had +welcomed them hospitably, as a British yeoman should; +but not budged a foot in his demands: not to the baronet: +not to the Captain: not to good young Mr. Wentworth. +For Farmer Blaize was a solid Englishman; and, on hearing +from the baronet a frank confession of the hold he +had on the family, he determined to tighten his hold, +and only relax it in exchange for tangible advantages—compensation +to his pocket, his wounded person, and his +still more wounded sentiments: the total indemnity being, +in round figures, three hundred pounds, and a spoken +apology from the prime offender, young Mister Richard. +Even then there was a reservation. Provided, the farmer +said, nobody had been tampering with any of his witnesses. +In that case Farmer Blaize declared the money might go, +and he would transport Tom Bakewell, as he had sworn +he would. And it goes hard, too, with an accomplice, by +law, added the farmer, knocking the ashes leisurely out +of his pipe. He had no wish to bring any disgrace anywhere; +he respected the inmates of Raynham Abbey, as +in duty bound; he should be sorry to see them in trouble. +Only no tampering with his witnesses. He was a man +for Law. Rank was much: money was much: but Law +was more. In this country Law was above the sovereign. +To tamper with the Law was treason to the realm.</p> + +<p>"I come to you direct," the baronet explained. "I tell +you candidly in what way I discovered my son to be mixed +up in this miserable affair. I promise you indemnity for +your loss, and an apology that shall, I trust, satisfy your +feelings, assuring you that to tamper with witnesses is +not the province of a Feverel. All I ask of you in return +is, not to press the prosecution. At present it rests with +you. I am bound to do all that lies in my power for this +imprisoned man. How and wherefore my son was +prompted to suggest, or assist in, such an act, I cannot +explain, for I do not know."</p> + +<p>"Hum!" said the farmer. "I think I do."</p> + +<p>"You know the cause?" Sir Austin stared. "I beg you +to confide it to me."</p> + +<p>"'Least, I can pretty nigh neighbour it with a guess," +said the farmer. "We an't good friends, Sir Austin, me +and your son, just now—not to say cordial. I, ye see, Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +Austin, I'm a man as don't like young gentlemen +a-poachin' on his grounds without his permission,—in +special when birds is plentiful on their own. It appear +he do like it. Consequently I has to flick this whip—as +them fellers at the races: All in this 'ere Ring's mine! +as much as to say; and who's been hit, he's had fair +warnin'. I'm sorry for't, but that's just the case."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin retired to communicate with his son, when +he should find him.</p> + +<p>Algernon's interview passed off in ale and promises. +He also assured Farmer Blaize that no Feverel could be +affected by his proviso.</p> + +<p>No less did Austin Wentworth. The farmer was +satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Money's safe, I know," said he; "now for the 'pology!" +and Farmer Blaize thrust his legs further out, and his +head further back.</p> + +<p>The farmer naturally reflected that the three separate +visits had been conspired together. Still the baronet's +frankness, and the baronet's not having reserved himself +for the third and final charge, puzzled him. He was considering +whether they were a deep, or a shallow lot, when +young Richard was announced.</p> + +<p>A pretty little girl with the roses of thirteen springs in +her cheeks, and abundant beautiful bright tresses, tripped +before the boy, and loitered shyly by the farmer's armchair +to steal a look at the handsome new-comer. She +was introduced to Richard as the farmer's niece, Lucy +Desborough, the daughter of a lieutenant in the Royal +Navy, and, what was better, though the farmer did not +pronounce it so loudly, a real good girl.</p> + +<p>Neither the excellence of her character, nor her rank in +life, tempted Richard to inspect the little lady. He made +an awkward bow, and sat down.</p> + +<p>The farmer's eyes twinkled. "Her father," he continued, +"fought and fell for his coontry. A man as fights +for's coontry's a right to hould up his head—ay! with +any in the land. Desb'roughs o' Dorset! d'ye know that +family, Master Feverel?"</p> + +<p>Richard did not know them, and, by his air, did not +desire to become acquainted with any offshoot of that +family.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She can make puddens and pies," the farmer went on, +regardless of his auditor's gloom. "She's a lady, as good +as the best of 'em. I don't care about their being Catholics—the +Desb'roughs o' Dorset are gentlemen. And +she's good for the pianer, too! She strums to me of +evenin's. I'm for the old tunes: she's for the new. Gal-like! +While she's with me she shall be taught things +use'l. She can parley-voo a good 'un and foot it, as it +goes; been in France a couple of year. I prefer the singin' +of 't to the talkin' of 't. Come, Luce! toon up—eh?—Ye +wun't? That song about the Viffendeer—a female"—Farmer +Blaize volunteered the translation of the title—"who +wears the—you guess what! and marches along with +the French sojers: a pretty brazen bit o' goods, I sh'd +fancy."</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Lucy corrected her uncle's French, but +objected to do more. The handsome cross boy had almost +taken away her voice for speech, as it was, and sing in his +company she could not; so she stood, a hand on her uncle's +chair to stay herself from falling, while she wriggled a +dozen various shapes of refusal, and shook her head at the +farmer with fixed eyes.</p> + +<p>"Aha!" laughed the farmer, dismissing her, "they soon +learn the difference 'twixt the young 'un and the old 'un. +Go along, Luce! and learn yer lessons for to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Reluctantly the daughter of the Royal Navy glided +away. Her uncle's head followed her to the door, where +she dallied to catch a last impression of the young +stranger's lowering face, and darted through.</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize laughed and chuckled. "She an't so +fond of her uncle as that, every day! Not that she an't +a good nurse—the kindest little soul you'd meet of a winter's +walk! She'll read t' ye, and make drinks, and sing, +too, if ye likes it, and she won't be tired. A obstinate +good 'un, she be! Bless her!"</p> + +<p>The farmer may have designed, by these eulogies of his +niece, to give his visitor time to recover his composure, +and establish a common topic. His diversion only irritated +and confused our shame-eaten youth. Richard's +intention had been to come to the farmer's threshold: to +summon the farmer thither, and in a loud and haughty +tone then and there to take upon himself the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +burden of the charge against Tom Bakewell. He had +strayed, during his passage to Belthorpe, somewhat back +to his old nature; and his being compelled to enter the +house of his enemy, sit in his chair, and endure an introduction +to his family, was more than he bargained for. +He commenced blinking hard in preparation for the horrible +dose to which delay and the farmer's cordiality added +inconceivable bitters. Farmer Blaize was quite at his +ease; nowise in a hurry. He spoke of the weather and the +harvest: of recent doings up at the Abbey: glanced over +that year's cricketing; hoped that no future Feverel would +lose a leg to the game. Richard saw and heard Arson in +it all. He blinked harder as he neared the cup. In a +moment of silence, he seized it with a gasp.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Blaize! I have come to tell you that I am the person +who set fire to your rick the other night."</p> + +<p>An odd contraction formed about the farmer's mouth. +He changed his posture, and said, "Ay? that's what ye're +come to tell me, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" said Richard, firmly.</p> + +<p>"And that be all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Richard reiterated.</p> + +<p>The farmer again changed his posture. "Then, my lad, +ye've come to tell me a lie!"</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize looked straight at the boy, undismayed +by the dark flush of ire he had kindled.</p> + +<p>"You dare to call me a liar!" cried Richard, starting +up.</p> + +<p>"I say," the farmer renewed his first emphasis, and +smacked his thigh thereto, "that's a lie!"</p> + +<p>Richard held out his clenched fist. "You have twice +insulted me. You have struck me: you have dared to +call me a liar. I would have apologized—I would have +asked your pardon, to have got off that fellow in prison. +Yes! I would have degraded myself that another man +should not suffer for my deed"——</p> + +<p>"Quite proper!" interposed the farmer.</p> + +<p>"And you take this opportunity of insulting me afresh. +You're a coward, sir! nobody but a coward would have +insulted me in his own house."</p> + +<p>"Sit ye down, sit ye down, young master," said the +farmer, indicating the chair and cooling the outburst with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +his hand. "Sit ye down. Don't ye be hasty. If ye hadn't +been hasty t'other day, we sh'd a been friends yet. Sit ye +down, sir. I sh'd be sorry to reckon you out a liar, Mr. +Feverel, or anybody o' your name. I respects yer father +though we're opp'site politics. I'm willin' to think well +o' you. What I say is, that as you say an't the trewth. +Mind! I don't like you none the worse for't. But it an't +what is. That's all! You knows it as well's I!"</p> + +<p>Richard, disdaining to show signs of being pacified, +angrily reseated himself. The farmer spoke sense, and +the boy, after his late interview with Austin, had become +capable of perceiving vaguely that a towering passion is +hardly the justification for a wrong course of conduct.</p> + +<p>"Come," continued the farmer, not unkindly, "what else +have you to say?"</p> + +<p>Here was the same bitter cup he had already once +drained brimming at Richard's lips again! Alas, poor +human nature! that empties to the dregs a dozen of these +evil drinks, to evade the single one which Destiny, less +cruel, had insisted upon.</p> + +<p>The boy blinked and tossed it off.</p> + +<p>"I came to say that I regretted the revenge I had taken +on you for your striking me."</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize nodded.</p> + +<p>"And now ye've done, young gentleman?"</p> + +<p>Still another cupful!</p> + +<p>"I should be very much obliged," Richard formally +began, but his stomach was turned; he could but sip and +sip, and gather a distaste which threatened to make the +penitential act impossible. "Very much obliged," he repeated: +"much obliged, if you would be so kind," and it +struck him that had he spoken this at first he would have +given it a wording more persuasive with the farmer and +more worthy of his own pride: more honest, in fact: for +a sense of the dishonesty of what he was saying caused +him to cringe and simulate humility to deceive the farmer, +and the more he said the less he felt his words, and, feeling +them less, he inflated them more. "So kind," he stammered, +"so kind" (fancy a <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Feveral'">Feverel</ins> asking this big brute +to be so kind!) "as to do me the favour" (<i>me</i> the favour!) +"to exert yourself" (it's all to please Austin) "to endeavour +to—hem! to" (there's no saying it!)—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>The cup was full as ever. Richard dashed at it again.</p> + +<p>"What I came to ask is, whether you would have the +kindness to try what you could do" (what an infamous +shame to have to beg like this!) "do to save—do to ensure—whether +you would have the kindness"—— It +seemed out of all human power to gulp it down. The +draught grew more and more abhorrent. To proclaim +one's iniquity, to apologize for one's wrongdoing; thus +much could be done; but to beg a favour of the offended +party—that was beyond the self-abasement any Feverel +could consent to. Pride, however, whose inevitable battle +is against itself, drew aside the curtains of poor Tom's +prison, crying a second time, "Behold your Benefactor!" +and, with the words burning in his ears, Richard swallowed +the dose:</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I want you, Mr. Blaize,—if you don't mind—will +you help me to get this man Bakewell off his punishment?"</p> + +<p>To do Farmer Blaize justice, he waited very patiently +for the boy, though he could not quite see why he did not +take the gate at the first offer.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said he, when he heard and had pondered on the +request. "Hum! ha! we'll see about it t'morrow. But if +he's innocent, you know, we shan't mak'n guilty."</p> + +<p>"It was I did it!" Richard declared.</p> + +<p>The farmer's half-amused expression sharpened a bit.</p> + +<p>"So, young gentleman! and you're sorry for the night's +work?"</p> + +<p>"I shall see that you are paid the full extent of your +losses."</p> + +<p>"Thank'ee," said the farmer drily.</p> + +<p>"And, if this poor man is released to-morrow, I don't +care what the amount is."</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize deflected his head twice in silence. "Bribery," +one motion expressed: "Corruption," the other.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he, leaning forward, and fixing his elbows +on his knees, while he counted the case at his fingers' +ends, "excuse the liberty, but wishin' to know where this +'ere money's to come from, I sh'd like jest t'ask if so be +Sir Austin know o' this?"</p> + +<p>"My father knows nothing of it," replied Richard.</p> + +<p>The farmer flung back in his chair. "Lie number Two,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +said his shoulders, soured by the British aversion to being +plotted at, and not dealt with openly.</p> + +<p>"And ye've the money ready, young gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"I shall ask my father for it."</p> + +<p>"And he'll hand't out?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly he will!"</p> + +<p>Richard had not the slightest intention of ever letting +his father into his counsels.</p> + +<p>"A good three hundred pounds, ye know?" the farmer +suggested.</p> + +<p>No consideration of the extent of damages, and the size +of the sum, affected young Richard, who said boldly, "He +will not object when I tell him I want that sum."</p> + +<p>It was natural Farmer Blaize should be a trifle suspicious +that a youth's guarantee would hardly be given for +his father's readiness to disburse such a thumping bill, +unless he had previously received his father's sanction and +authority.</p> + +<p>"Hum!" said he, "why not 'a told him before?"</p> + +<p>The farmer threw an objectionable shrewdness into his +query, that caused Richard to compress his mouth and +glance high.</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize was positive 'twas a lie.</p> + +<p>"Hum! Ye still hold to't you fired the rick?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The blame is mine!" quoth Richard, with the loftiness +of a patriot of old Rome.</p> + +<p>"Na, na!" the straightforward Briton put him aside. +"Ye did't, or ye didn't do't. Did ye do't, or no?"</p> + +<p>Thrust in a corner, Richard said, "I did it."</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize reached his hand to the bell. It was +answered in an instant by little Lucy, who received orders +to fetch in a dependent at Belthorpe going by the name of +the Bantam, and made her exit as she had entered, with +her eyes on the young stranger.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the farmer, "these be my principles. I'm +a plain man, Mr. Feverel. Above board with me, and +you'll find me handsome. Try to circumvent me, and I'm +a ugly customer. I'll show you I've no animosity. Your +father pays—you apologize. That's enough for me! Let +Tom Bakewell fight't out with the Law, and I'll look on. +The Law wasn't on the spot, I suppose? so the Law ain't +much witness. But I am. Leastwise the Bantam is. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +tell you, young gentleman, the Bantam saw't! It's no +moral use whatever your denyin' that ev'dence. And +where's the good, sir, I ask? What comes of 't? Whether +it be you, or whether it be Tom Bakewell—ain't all one? +If I holds back, ain't it sim'lar? It's the trewth I want! +And here't comes," added the farmer, as Miss Lucy +ushered in the Bantam, who presented a curious figure for +that rare divinity to enliven.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>A FINE DISTINCTION</h3> + + +<p>In build of body, gait and stature, Giles Jinkson, the +Bantam, was a tolerably fair representative of the Punic +elephant, whose part, with diverse anticipations, the generals +of the Blaize and Feverel forces, from opposing +ranks, expected him to play. Giles, surnamed the Bantam, +on account of some forgotten sally of his youth or infancy, +moved and looked elephantine. It sufficed that Giles was +well fed to assure that Giles was faithful—if uncorrupted. +The farm which supplied to him ungrudging provender +had all his vast capacity for work in willing exercise: the +farmer who held the farm his instinct reverenced as the +fountain-source of beef and bacon, to say nothing of beer, +which was plentiful at Belthorpe, and good. This Farmer +Blaize well knew, and he reckoned consequently that here +was an animal always to be relied on—a sort of human +composition out of dog, horse, and bull, a cut above each +of these quadrupeds in usefulness, and costing proportionately +more, but on the whole worth the money, and +therefore invaluable, as everything worth its money must +be to a wise man. When the stealing of grain had been +made known at Belthorpe, the Bantam, a fellow-thresher +with Tom Bakewell, had shared with him the shadow of +the guilt. Farmer Blaize, if he hesitated which to suspect, +did not debate a second as to which he would discard; +and, when the Bantam said he had seen Tom secreting +pilkins in a sack, Farmer Blaize chose to believe him, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +off went poor Tom, told to rejoice in the clemency that +spared his appearance at Sessions.</p> + +<p>The Bantam's small sleepy orbits saw many things, and +just at the right moment, it seemed. He was certainly the +first to give the clue at Belthorpe on the night of the +conflagration, and he may, therefore, have seen poor Tom +retreating stealthily from the scene, as he averred he did. +Lobourne had its say on the subject. Rustic Lobourne +hinted broadly at a young woman in the case, and moreover, +told a tale of how these fellow-threshers had, in +noble rivalry, one day turned upon each other to see +which of the two threshed the best; whereof the Bantam +still bore marks, and malice, it was said. However, there +he stood, and tugged his forelocks to the company, and if +Truth really had concealed herself in him she must have +been hard set to find her unlikeliest hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the farmer, marshalling forth his elephant +with the confidence of one who delivers his ace of trumps, +"tell this young gentleman what ye saw on the night of +the fire, Bantam!"</p> + +<p>The Bantam jerked a bit of a bow to his patron, and +then swung round, fully obscuring him from Richard.</p> + +<p>Richard fixed his eyes on the floor, while the Bantam +in rudest Doric commenced his narrative. Knowing what +was to come, and thoroughly nerved to confute the main +incident, Richard barely listened to his barbarous locution: +but when the recital arrived at the point where the +Bantam affirmed he had seen "T'm Baak'll wi's owen +hoies," Richard faced him, and was amazed to find himself +being mutely addressed by a series of intensely significant +grimaces, signs, and winks.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? Why are you making those faces +at me?" cried the boy indignantly.</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize leaned round the Bantam to have a look +at him, and beheld the stolidest mask ever given to man.</p> + +<p>"Bain't makin' no faces at nobody," growled the sulky +elephant.</p> + +<p>The farmer commanded him to face about and finish.</p> + +<p>"A see T'm Baak'll," the Bantam recommenced, and +again the contortions of a horrible wink were directed at +Richard. The boy might well believe this churl was lying, +and he did, and was emboldened to exclaim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"You never saw Tom Bakewell set fire to that rick!"</p> + +<p>The Bantam swore to it, grimacing an accompaniment.</p> + +<p>"I tell you," said Richard, "I put the lucifers there +myself!"</p> + +<p>The suborned elephant was staggered. He meant to +telegraph to the young gentleman that he was loyal and +true to certain gold pieces that had been given him, and +that in the right place and at the right time he should +prove so. Why was he thus suspected? Why was he not +understood?</p> + +<p>"A thowt I see 'un, then," muttered the Bantam, trying +a middle course.</p> + +<p>This brought down on him the farmer, who roared, +"Thought! Ye thought! What d'ye mean? Speak out, +and don't be thinkin'. Thought? What the devil's that?"</p> + +<p>"How could he see who it was on a pitch-dark night?" +Richard put in.</p> + +<p>"Thought!" the farmer bellowed louder. "Thought—Devil +take ye, when ye took yer oath on't. Hulloa! What +are ye screwin' yer eye at Mr. Feverel for?—I say, young +gentleman, have you spoken to this chap before now?"</p> + +<p>"I?" replied Richard. "I have not seen him before."</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize grasped the two arms of the chair he sat +on, and glared his doubts.</p> + +<p>"Come," said he to the Bantam, "speak out, and ha' +done wi't. Say what ye saw, and none o' yer thoughts. +Damn yer thoughts! Ye saw Tom Bakewell fire that there +rick!" The farmer pointed at some musk-pots in the +window. "What business ha' you to be a-thinkin'? You're +a witness? Thinkin' an't ev'dence. What'll ye say to-morrow +before magistrate! Mind! what you say to-day, +you'll stick by to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Thus adjured, the Bantam hitched his breech. What +on earth the young gentleman meant he was at a loss to +speculate. He could not believe that the young gentleman +wanted to be transported, but if he had been paid to help +that, why, he would. And considering that this day's +evidence rather bound him down to the morrow's, he determined, +after much ploughing and harrowing through +obstinate shocks of hair, to be not altogether positive as +to the person. It is possible that he became thereby more +a mansion of truth than he previously had been; for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +night, as he said, was so dark that you could not see your +hand before your face; and though, as he expressed it, +you might be mortal sure of a man, you could not identify +him upon oath, and the party he had taken for Tom +Bakewell, and could have sworn to, might have been the +young gentleman present, especially as he was ready to +swear it upon oath.</p> + +<p>So ended the Bantam.</p> + +<p>No sooner had he ceased, than Farmer Blaize jumped +up from his chair, and made a fine effort to lift him out +of the room from the point of his toe. He failed, and +sank back groaning with the pain of the exertion and +disappointment.</p> + +<p>"They're liars, every one!" he cried. "Liars, perj'rers, +bribers, and c'rrupters!—Stop!" to the Bantam, who was +slinking away. "You've done for yerself already! You +swore to it!"</p> + +<p>"A din't!" said the Bantam, doggedly.</p> + +<p>"You swore to't," the farmer vociferated afresh.</p> + +<p>The Bantam played a tune upon the handle of the door, +and still affirmed that he did not; a double contradiction +at which the farmer absolutely raged in his chair, and was +hoarse, as he called out a third time that the Bantam had +sworn to it.</p> + +<p>"Noa!" said the Bantam, ducking his poll. "Noa!" he +repeated in a lower note; and then, while a sombre grin +betokening idiotic enjoyment of his profound casuistical +quibble worked at his jaw:</p> + +<p>"Not up'n o-ath!" he added, with a twitch of the +shoulder and an angular jerk of the elbow.</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize looked vacantly at Richard, as if to ask +him what he thought of England's peasantry after the +sample they had there. Richard would have preferred not +to laugh, but his dignity gave way to his sense of the +ludicrous, and he let fly a shout. The farmer was in no +laughing mood. He turned a wide eye back to the door. +"Lucky for'm," he exclaimed, seeing the Bantam had +vanished, for his fingers itched to break that stubborn +head. He grew very puffy, and addressed Richard +solemnly:</p> + +<p>"Now, look ye here, Mr. Feverel! You've been a-tampering +with my witness. It's no use denyin'! I say y' 'ave,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +sir! You, or some of ye. I don't care about no Feverel! +My witness there has been bribed. The Bantam's been +bribed," and he shivered his pipe with an energetic thump +on the table—"bribed! I knows it! I could swear +to't!"——</p> + +<p>"Upon oath?" Richard inquired, with a grave face.</p> + +<p>"Ay, upon oath!" said the farmer, not observing the +impertinence.</p> + +<p>"I'd take my Bible oath on't! He's been corrupted, +my principal witness! Oh, it's dam cunnin', but it won't +do the trick. I'll transpoort Tom Bakewell, sure as a gun. +He shall travel, that man shall. Sorry for you, Mr. +Feverel—sorry you haven't seen how to treat me proper—you, +or yours. Money won't do everything—no! it won't. +It'll c'rrupt a witness, but it won't clear a felon. I'd ha' +'scused you, sir! You're a boy and'll learn better. I +asked no more than payment and a 'pology; and that I'd +ha' taken content—always provided my witnesses weren't +tampered with. Now you must stand yer luck, all o' ye."</p> + +<p>Richard stood up and replied, "Very well, Mr. Blaize."</p> + +<p>"And if," continued the farmer, "Tom Bakewell don't +drag you into't after 'm, why, you're safe, as I hope ye'll +be, sincere!"</p> + +<p>"It was not in consideration of my own safety that +I sought this interview with you," said Richard, head +erect.</p> + +<p>"Grant ye that," the farmer responded. "Grant ye +that! Yer bold enough, young gentleman—comes of the +blood that should be! If y' had only ha' spoke trewth!—I +believe yer father—believe every word he said. I do +wish I could ha' said as much for Sir Austin's son and +heir."</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Richard, with an astonishment hardly +to be feigned, "you have seen my father?"</p> + +<p>But Farmer Blaize had now such a scent for lies that +he could detect them where they did not exist, and mumbled +gruffly,</p> + +<p>"Ay, we knows all about that!"</p> + +<p>The boy's perplexity saved him from being irritated. +Who could have told his father? An old fear of his +father came upon him, and a touch of an old inclination +to revolt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My father knows of this?" said he, very loudly, and +staring, as he spoke, right through the farmer. "Who has +played me false? Who would betray me to him? It was +Austin! No one knew it but Austin. Yes, and it was +Austin who persuaded me to come here and submit to +these indignities. Why couldn't he be open with me? I +shall never trust him again!"——</p> + +<p>"And why not you with me, young gentleman?" said the +farmer. "I sh'd trust you if ye had."</p> + +<p>Richard did not see the analogy. He bowed stiffly and +bade him good afternoon.</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize pulled the bell. "'Company the young +gentleman out, Lucy," he waved to the little damsel in +the doorway. "Do the honours. And, Mr. Richard, ye +might ha' made a friend o' me, sir, and it's not too late +so to do. I'm not cruel, but I hate lies. I whipped my +boy Tom, bigger than you, for not bein' above board, +only yesterday,—ay! made 'un stand within swing o' +this chair, and take's measure. Now, if ye'll come down +to me, and speak trewth before the trial—if it's only five +minutes before't; or if Sir Austin, who's a gentleman, 'll +say there's been no tamperin' with any o' my witnesses, +his word for't—well and good! I'll do my best to help +off Tom Bakewell. And I'm glad, young gentleman, +you've got a conscience about a poor man, though he's a +villain. Good afternoon, sir."</p> + +<p>Richard marched hastily out of the room, and through +the garden, never so much as deigning a glance at his +wistful little guide, who hung at the garden gate to watch +him up the lane, wondering a world of fancies about the +handsome proud boy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>RICHARD PASSES THROUGH HIS PRELIMINARY +ORDEAL, AND IS THE OCCASION OF AN APHORISM</h3> + + +<p>To have determined upon an act something akin to +heroism in its way, and to have fulfilled it by lying heartily, +and so subverting the whole structure built by good +resolution, seems a sad downfall if we forget what human<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +nature, in its green weedy spring, is composed of. Young +Richard had quitted his cousin Austin fully resolved to do +his penance and drink the bitter cup; and he had drunk +it; drained many cups to the dregs; and it was to no purpose. +Still they floated before him, brimmed, trebly bitter. +Away from Austin's influence, he was almost the +same boy who had slipped the guinea into Tom Bakewell's +hand, and the lucifers into Farmer Blaize's rick. For +good seed is long ripening; a good boy is not made in a +minute. Enough that the seed was in him. He chafed +on his road to Raynham at the scene he had just endured, +and the figure of Belthorpe's fat tenant burnt like hot +copper on the tablet of his brain, insufferably condescending, +and, what was worse, in the right. Richard, obscured +as his mind's eye was by wounded pride, saw that clearly, +and hated his enemy for it the more.</p> + +<p>Heavy Benson's tongue was knelling dinner as Richard +arrived at the Abbey. He hurried up to his room to dress. +Accident, or design, had laid the book of Sir Austin's +aphorisms open on the dressing-table. Hastily combing +his hair, Richard glanced down and read—</p> + +<p>"The Dog returneth to his vomit: the Liar must eat +his Lie."</p> + +<p>Underneath was interjected in pencil: "The Devil's +mouthful!"</p> + +<p>Young Richard ran downstairs feeling that his father +had struck him in the face.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin marked the scarlet stain on his son's cheek-bones. +He sought the youth's eye, but Richard would not +look, and sat conning his plate, an abject copy of Adrian's +succulent air at that employment. How could he pretend +to the relish of an epicure when he was painfully endeavouring +to masticate The Devil's mouthful?</p> + +<p>Heavy Benson sat upon the wretched dinner. Hippias, +usually the silent member, as if awakened by the unnatural +stillness, became sprightly, like the goatsucker +owl at night, and spoke much of his book, his digestion, +and his dreams, and was spared both by Algernon and +Adrian. One inconsequent dream he related, about fancying +himself quite young and rich, and finding himself +suddenly in a field cropping razors around him, when, +just as he had, by steps dainty as those of a French<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +dancing-master, reached the middle, he to his dismay beheld +a path clear of the bloodthirsty steel-crop, which he +might have taken at first had he looked narrowly; and +there he was.</p> + +<p>Hippias's brethren regarded him with eyes that plainly +said they wished he had remained there. Sir Austin, +however, drew forth his note-book, and jotted down a reflection. +A composer of aphorisms can pluck blossoms +even from a razor-crop. Was not Hippias's dream the +very counterpart of Richard's position? He, had he +looked narrowly, might have taken the clear path: he, +too, had been making dainty steps till he was surrounded +by the grinning blades. And from that text Sir Austin +preached to his son when they were alone. Little Clare +was still too unwell to be permitted to attend the dessert, +and father and son were soon closeted together.</p> + +<p>It was a strange meeting. They seemed to have been +separated so long. The father took his son's hand; they +sat without a word passing between them. Silence said +most. The boy did not understand his father: his father +frequently thwarted him: at times he thought his father +foolish: but that paternal pressure of his hand was eloquent +to him of how warmly he was beloved. He tried +once or twice to steal his hand away, conscious it was +melting him. The spirit of his pride, and old rebellion, +whispered him to be hard, unbending, resolute. Hard +he had entered his father's study: hard he had met his +father's eyes. He could not meet them now. His father +sat beside him gently; with a manner that was almost +meekness, so he loved this boy. The poor gentleman's +lips moved. He was praying internally to God for him.</p> + +<p>By degrees an emotion awoke in the boy's bosom. Love +is that blessed wand which wins the waters from the hardness +of the heart. Richard fought against it, for the +dignity of old rebellion. The tears would come; hot and +struggling over the dams of pride. Shamefully fast they +began to fall. He could no longer conceal them, or check +the sobs. Sir Austin drew him nearer and nearer, till +the beloved head was on his breast.</p> + +<p>An hour afterwards, Adrian Harley, Austin Wentworth, +and Algernon Feverel were summoned to the baronet's +study.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>Adrian came last. There was a style of affable omnipotence +about the wise youth as he slung himself into a +chair, and made an arch of the points of his fingers, +through which to gaze on his blundering kinsmen. Careless +as one may be whose sagacity has foreseen, and whose +benevolent efforts have forestalled, the point of danger at +the threshold, Adrian crossed his legs, and only intruded +on their introductory remarks so far as to hum half audibly +at intervals—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ripton and Richard were two pretty men,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>in parody of the old ballad. Young Richard's red eyes, +and the baronet's ruffled demeanour, told him that an explanation +had taken place, and a reconciliation. That was +well. The baronet would now pay cheerfully. Adrian +summed and considered these matters, and barely listened +when the baronet called attention to what he had to say: +which was elaborately to inform all present, what all present +very well knew, that a rick had been fired, that his +son was implicated as an accessory to the fact, that the +perpetrator was now imprisoned, and that Richard's family +were, as it seemed to him, bound in honour to do their +utmost to effect the man's release.</p> + +<p>Then the baronet stated that he had himself been down +to Belthorpe, his son likewise: and that he had found +every disposition in Blaize to meet his wishes.</p> + +<p>The lamp which ultimately was sure to be lifted up to +illumine the acts of this secretive race began slowly to +dispread its rays; and, as statement followed statement, +they saw that all had known of the business: that all +had been down to Belthorpe: all save the wise youth +Adrian, who, with due deference and a sarcastic shrug, +objected to the proceeding, as putting them in the hands +of the man Blaize. His wisdom shone forth in an oration +so persuasive and aphoristic that had it not been based +on a plea against honour, it would have made Sir Austin +waver. But its basis was expediency, and the baronet +had a better aphorism of his own to confute him with.</p> + +<p>"Expediency is man's wisdom, Adrian Harley. Doing +right is God's."</p> + +<p>Adrian curbed his desire to ask Sir Austin whether an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +attempt to counteract the just working of the law was +doing right. The direct application of an aphorism was +unpopular at Raynham.</p> + +<p>"I am to understand then," said he, "that Blaize consents +not to press the prosecution."</p> + +<p>"Of course he won't," Algernon remarked. "Confound +him! he'll have his money, and what does he want +besides?"</p> + +<p>"These agricultural gentleman are delicate customers +to deal with. However, if he really consents"——</p> + +<p>"I have his promise," said the baronet, fondling his son.</p> + +<p>Young Richard looked up to his father, as if he wished +to speak. He said nothing, and Sir Austin took it as a +mute reply to his caresses, and caressed him the more. +Adrian perceived a reserve in the boy's manner, and as +he was not quite satisfied that his chief should suppose +him to have been the only idle, and not the most acute +and vigilant member of the family, he commenced a +cross-examination of him by asking who had last spoken +with the tenant of Belthorpe?</p> + +<p>"I think I saw him last," murmured Richard, and relinquished +his father's hand.</p> + +<p>Adrian fastened on his prey. "And left him with a +distinct and satisfactory assurance of his amicable intentions?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"Not?" the Feverels joined in astounded chorus.</p> + +<p>Richard sidled away from his father, and repeated a +shamefaced "No."</p> + +<p>"Was he hostile?" inquired Adrian, smoothing his +palms, and smiling.</p> + +<p>"Yes," the boy confessed.</p> + +<p>Here was quite another view of their position. Adrian, +generally patient of results, triumphed strongly at having +evoked it, and turned upon Austin Wentworth, reproving +him for inducing the boy to go down to Belthorpe. Austin +looked grieved. He feared that Richard had failed in +his good resolve.</p> + +<p>"I thought it his duty to go," he observed.</p> + +<p>"It was!" said the baronet, emphatically.</p> + +<p>"And you see what comes of it, sir," Adrian struck in. +"These agricultural gentlemen, I repeat, are delicate customers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +to deal with. For my part I would prefer being +in the hands of a policeman. We are decidedly collared +by Blaize. What were his words, Ricky? Give it in his +own Doric."</p> + +<p>"He said he would transport Tom Bakewell."</p> + +<p>Adrian smoothed his palms, and smiled again. Then +they could afford to defy Mr. Blaize, he informed them +significantly, and made once more a mysterious allusion +to the Punic elephant, bidding his relatives be at peace. +They were attaching, in his opinion, too much importance +to Richard's complicity. The man was a fool, and a very +extraordinary arsonite, to have an accomplice at all. It +was a thing unknown in the annals of rick-burning. +But one would be severer than law itself to say that a boy +of fourteen had instigated to crime a full-grown man. +At that rate the boy was "father of the man" with a vengeance, +and one might hear next that "the baby was +father of the boy." They would find common sense a more +benevolent ruler than poetical metaphysics.</p> + +<p>When he had done, Austin, with his customary directness, +asked him what he meant.</p> + +<p>"I confess, Adrian," said the baronet, hearing him expostulate +with Austin's stupidity, "I for one am at a loss. +I have heard that this man, Bakewell, chooses voluntarily +not to inculpate my son. Seldom have I heard anything +that so gratified me. It is a view of innate nobleness in +the rustic's character which many a gentleman might +take example from. We are bound to do our utmost for +the man." And, saying that he should pay a second visit +to Belthorpe, to inquire into the reasons for the farmer's +sudden exposition of vindictiveness, Sir Austin rose.</p> + +<p>Before he left the room, Algernon asked Richard if the +farmer had vouchsafed any reasons, and the boy then +spoke of the tampering with the witnesses, and the Bantam's +"Not upon oath!" which caused Adrian to choke +with laughter. Even the baronet smiled at so cunning +a distinction as that involved in swearing a thing, and not +swearing it upon oath.</p> + +<p>"How little," he exclaimed, "does one yeoman know +another! To elevate a distinction into a difference is the +natural action of their minds. I will point that out to +Blaize. He shall see that the idea is native born."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>Richard saw his father go forth. Adrian, too, was ill +at ease.</p> + +<p>"This trotting down to Belthorpe spoils all," said he. +"The affair would pass over to-morrow—Blaize has no +witnesses. The old rascal is only standing out for more +money."</p> + +<p>"No, he isn't," Richard corrected him. "It's not that. +I'm sure he believes his witnesses have been tampered +with, as he calls it."</p> + +<p>"What if they have, boy?" Adrian put it boldly. "The +ground is cut from under his feet."</p> + +<p>"Blaize told me that if my father would give his word +there had been nothing of the sort, he would take it. My +father will give his word."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Adrian, "you had better stop him from +going down."</p> + +<p>Austin looked at Adrian keenly, and questioned him +whether he thought the farmer was justified in his suspicions. +The wise youth was not to be entrapped. He +had only been given to understand that the witnesses were +tolerably unstable, and, like the Bantam, ready to swear +lustily, but not upon the Book. How given to understand, +he chose not to explain, but he reiterated that the chief +should not be allowed to go down to Belthorpe.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin was in the lane leading to the farm when +he heard steps of some one running behind him. It was +dark, and he shook off the hand that laid hold of his cloak, +roughly, not recognizing his son.</p> + +<p>"It's I, sir," said Richard panting. "Pardon me. You +mustn't go in there."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" said the baronet, putting his arm about +him.</p> + +<p>"Not now," continued the boy. "I will tell you all to-night. +I must see the farmer myself. It was my fault, +sir. I—I lied to him—the Liar must eat his Lie. Oh, +forgive me for disgracing you, sir. I did it—I hope I did +it to save Tom Bakewell. Let me go in alone, and speak +the truth."</p> + +<p>"Go, and I will wait for you here," said his father.</p> + +<p>The wind that bowed the old elms, and shivered the +dead leaves in the air, had a voice and a meaning for the +baronet during that half-hour's lonely pacing up and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +down under the darkness, awaiting his boy's return. The +solemn gladness of his heart gave nature a tongue. +Through the desolation flying overhead—the wailing of +the Mother of Plenty across the bare-swept land—he +caught intelligible signs of the beneficent order of the +universe, from a heart newly confirmed in its grasp of +the principle of human goodness, as manifested in the +dear child who had just left him; confirmed in its belief +in the ultimate victory of good within us, without which +nature has neither music nor meaning, and is rock, stone, +tree, and nothing more.</p> + +<p>In the dark, the dead leaves beating on his face, he had +a word for his note-book: "There is for the mind but one +grasp of happiness: from that uppermost pinnacle of wisdom, +whence we see that this world is well designed."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>IN WHICH THE LAST ACT OF THE BAKEWELL +COMEDY IS CLOSED IN A LETTER</h3> + + +<p>Of all the chief actors in the Bakewell Comedy, Master +Ripton Thompson awaited the fearful morning which was +to decide Tom's fate, in dolefullest mood, and suffered +the gravest mental terrors. Adrian, on parting with him, +had taken casual occasion to speak of the position of the +criminal in modern Europe, assuring him that International +Treaty now did what Universal Empire had aforetime +done, and that among Atlantic barbarians now, as +among the Scythians of old, an offender would find precarious +refuge and an emissary haunting him.</p> + +<p>In the paternal home, under the roofs of Law, and +removed from the influence of his conscienceless young +chief, the staggering nature of the act he had put his +hand to, its awful felonious aspect, overwhelmed Ripton. +He saw it now for the first time. "Why, it's next to murder!" +he cried out to his amazed soul, and wandered about +the house with a prickly skin. Thoughts of America, and +commencing life afresh as an innocent gentleman, had +crossed his disordered brain. He wrote to his friend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +Richard, proposing to collect disposable funds, and embark, +in case of Tom's breaking his word, or of accidental +discovery. He dared not confide the secret to his family, +as his leader had sternly enjoined him to avoid any weakness +of that kind; and, being by nature honest and communicative, +the restriction was painful, and melancholy +fell upon the boy. Mama Thompson attributed it to love. +The daughters of parchment rallied him concerning Miss +Clare Forey. His hourly letters to Raynham, and silence +as to everything and everybody there, his nervousness, +and unwonted propensity to sudden inflammation of the +cheeks, were set down for sure signs of the passion. Miss +Letitia Thompson, the pretty and least parchmenty one, +destined by her Papa for the heir of Raynham, and perfectly +aware of her brilliant future, up to which she had, +since Ripton's departure, dressed and grimaced, and +studied cadences (the latter with such success, though not +yet fifteen, that she languished to her maid, and melted +the small factotum footman)—Miss Letty, whose insatiable +thirst for intimations about the young heir Ripton +could not satisfy, tormented him daily in revenge, and +once, quite unconsciously, gave the lad a fearful turn; for +after dinner, when Mr. Thompson read the paper by the +fire, preparatory to sleeping at his accustomed post, and +Mama Thompson and her submissive female brood sat +tasking the swift intricacies of the needle, and emulating +them with the tongue, Miss Letty stole behind Ripton's +chair, and introduced between him and his book the Latin +initial letter, large and illuminated, of the theme she supposed +to be absorbing him, as it did herself. The unexpected +vision of this accusing Captain of the Alphabet, +this resplendent and haunting A, fronting him bodily, +threw Ripton straight back in his chair, while Guilt, with +her ancient indecision what colours to assume on detection, +flew from red to white, from white to red, across his +fallen chaps. Letty laughed triumphantly. Amor, the +word she had in mind, certainly has a connection with +Arson.</p> + +<p>But the delivery of a letter into Master Ripton's hands, +furnished her with other and likelier appearances to study. +For scarce had Ripton plunged his head into the missive +than he gave way to violent transports, such as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +healthy-minded little damsel, for all her languishing cadences, +deemed she really could express were a downright +declaration to be made to her. The boy did not stop at +table. Quickly recollecting the presence of his family, he +rushed to his own room. And now the girl's ingenuity was +taxed to gain possession of that letter. She succeeded, of +course, she being a huntress with few scruples and the +game unguarded. With the eyes of amazement she read +this foreign matter:</p> + +<blockquote>"Dear Ripton,—If Tom had been committed I would +have shot old Blaize. Do you know my father was behind +us that night when Clare saw the ghost and heard all we +said before the fire burst out. It is no use trying to conceal +anything from him. Well as you are in an awful +state I will tell you all about it. After you left Ripton I +had a conversation with Austin and he persuaded me to +go down to old Blaize and ask him to help off Tom. I +went, for I would have done anything for Tom after what +he said to Austin and I defied the old churl to do his +worst. Then he said if my father paid the money and nobody +had tampered with his witnesses he would not mind +if Tom did get off and he had his chief witness in called +the Bantam very like his master I think and the Bantam +began winking at me tremendjously as you say, and said +he had sworn he saw Tom Bakewell but not upon oath. +He meant not on the Bible. He could swear to it +but not on the Bible. I burst out laughing and you should +have seen the rage old Blaize was in. It was splendid +fun. Then we had a consultation at home Austin Rady +my father Uncle Algernon who has come down to us +again and your friend in prosperity and adversity R. D. F. +My father said he would go down to old Blaize and give +him the word of a gentleman we had not tampered with +his witnesses and when he was gone we were all talking +and Rady says he must not see the farmer. I am as certain +as I live that it was Rady bribed the Bantam. Well I ran +and caught up with my father and told him not to go in +to old Blaize but I would and eat my words and tell him +the truth. He waited for me in the lane. Never mind +what passed between me and old Blaize. He made me beg +and pray of him not to press it against Tom and then to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +complete it he brought in a little girl a niece of his and +says to me she's your best friend after all and told me to +thank her. A little girl twelve years of age. What business +had she to mix herself up in my matters. Depend +upon it Ripton wherever there is mischief there are girls +I think. She had the insolence to notice my face, and +ask me not to be unhappy. I was polite of course but I +would not look at her. Well the morning came and Tom +was had up before Sir Miles Papworth. It was Sir Miles +gout gave us the time or Tom would have been had up before +we could do anything. Adrian did not want me to +go but my father said I should accompany him and held +my hand all the time. I shall be careful about getting +into these scrapes again. When you have done anything +honourable you do not mind but getting among policemen +and magistrates makes you ashamed of yourself. Sir +Miles was very attentive to my father and me and dead +against Tom. We sat beside him and Tom was brought +in. Sir Miles told my father that if there was one thing +that showed a low villain it was rick-burning. What do +you think of that. I looked him straight in the face and +he said to me he was doing me a service in getting Tom +committed and clearing the country of such fellows and +Rady began laughing. I hate Rady. My father said his +son was not in haste to inherit and have estates of his +own to watch and Sir Miles laughed too. I thought we +were discovered at first. Then they began the examination +of Tom. The Tinker was the first witness and he +proved that Tom had spoken against old Blaize and said +something about burning his rick. I wished I had stood +in the lane to Bursley with him alone. Our country +lawyer we engaged for Tom cross-questioned him and then +he said he was not ready to swear to the exact words that +had passed between him and Tom. I should think not. +Then came another who swore he had seen Tom lurking +about the farmer's grounds that night. Then came the +Bantam and I saw him look at Rady. I was tremendjously +excited and my father kept pressing my hand. Just +fancy my being brought to feel that a word from that +fellow would make me miserable for life and he must +perjure himself to help me. That comes of giving way to +passion. My father says when we do that we are calling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +in the devil as doctor. Well the Bantam was told to state +what he had seen and the moment he began Rady who +was close by me began to shake and he was laughing I +knew though his face was as grave as Sir Miles. You +never heard such a rigmarole but I could not laugh. He +said he thought he was certain he had seen somebody by +the rick and it was Tom Bakewell who was the only man +he knew who had a grudge against Farmer Blaize and +if the object had been a little bigger he would not mind +swearing to Tom and would swear to him for he was dead +certain it was Tom only what he saw looked smaller and +it was pitch-dark at the time. He was asked what time +it was he saw the person steal away from the rick and then +he began to scratch his head and said supper-time. Then +they asked what time he had supper and he said nine +o'clock by the clock and we proved that at nine o'clock +Tom was drinking in the ale-house with the Tinker at +Bursley and Sir Miles swore and said he was afraid he +could not commit Tom and when he heard that Tom +looked up at me and I say he is a noble fellow and no one +shall sneer at Tom while I live. Mind that. Well Sir +Miles asked us to dine with him and Tom was safe and I +am to have him and educate him if I like for my servant +and I will. And I will give money to his mother and make +her rich and he shall never repent he knew me. I say Rip. +The Bantam must have seen <i>me</i>. It was when I went to +stick in the lucifers. As we were all going home from Sir +Miles's at night he has lots of redfaced daughters but I did +not dance with them though they had music and were full +of fun and I did not care to I was so delighted and almost +let it out. When we left and rode home Rady said to my +father the Bantam was not such a fool as he was thought +and my father said one must be in a state of great personal +exaltation to apply that epithet to any man and +Rady shut his mouth and I gave my pony a clap of the +heel for joy. I think my father suspects what Rady did +and does not approve of it. And he need not have done +it after all and might have spoilt it. I have been obliged +to order him not to call me Ricky for he stops short at +Rick so that everybody knows what he means. My dear +Austin is going to South America. My pony is in capital +condition. My father is the cleverest and best man in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +world. Clare is a little better. I am quite happy. I +hope we shall meet soon my dear Old Rip and we will not +get into any more tremendjous scrapes will we.—I remain, +Your sworn friend, + +<p style="text-align:right"> +"<span class="smcap">Richard Doria Feverel</span>."<br /> +</p> + +<p>"<i>P.S.</i> I am to have a nice River Yacht. Good-bye, +Rip. Mind you learn to box. Mind you are not to show +this to any of your friends on pain of my displeasure.</p> + +<p>"N.B. Lady B. was so angry when I told her that I +had not come to her before. She would do anything in +the world for me. I like her next best to my father and +Austin. Good-bye old Rip."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Poor little Letitia, after three perusals of this ingenuous +epistle, where the laws of punctuation were so disregarded, +resigned it to one of the pockets of her brother +Ripton's best jacket, deeply smitten with the careless composer. +And so ended the last act of the Bakewell Comedy, +on which the curtain closes with Sir Austin's pointing out +to his friends the beneficial action of the System in it +from beginning to end.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE BLOSSOMING SEASON</h3> + + +<p>Laying of ghosts is a public duty, and as the mystery +of the apparition that had frightened little Clare was never +solved on the stage of events at Raynham, where dread +walked the Abbey, let us go behind the scenes a moment. +Morally superstitious as the baronet was, the character of +his mind was opposed to anything like spiritual agency in +the affairs of men, and, when the matter was made clear to +him, it shook off a weight of weakness and restored his +mental balance; so that from this time he went about +more like the man he had once been, grasping more thoroughly +the great truth, that This World is well designed. +Nay, he could laugh on hearing Adrian, in reminiscence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +of the ill luck of one of the family members at its first +manifestation, call the uneasy spirit, Algernon's Leg.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria was outraged. She maintained that her +child had seen——. Not to believe in it was almost to +rob her of her personal property. After satisfactorily +studying his old state of mind in her, Sir Austin, moved +by pity, took her aside one day and showed her that her +Ghost could write words in the flesh. It was a letter from +the unhappy lady who had given Richard birth,—brief +cold lines, simply telling him his house would be disturbed +by her no more. Cold lines, but penned by what heart-broken +abnegation, and underlying them with what anguish +of soul! Like most who dealt with him, Lady +Feverel thought her husband a man fatally stern and implacable, +and she acted as silly creatures will act when +they fancy they see a fate against them: she neither +petitioned for her right nor claimed it: she tried to ease +her heart's yearning by stealth, and now she renounced +all. Mrs. Doria, not wanting in the family tenderness +and softness, shuddered at him for accepting the sacrifice +so composedly: but he bade her to think how distracting +to this boy would be the sight of such relations between +mother and father. A few years, and as man he should +know, and judge, and love her. "Let this be her penance, +not inflicted by me!" Mrs. Doria bowed to the System +for another, not opining when it would be her turn to bow +for herself.</p> + +<p>Further behind the scenes we observe Rizzio and Mary +grown older, much disenchanted: she discrowned, dishevelled,—he +with gouty fingers on a greasy guitar. The +Diaper Sandoe of promise lends his pen for small hires. +His fame has sunk; his bodily girth has sensibly increased. +What he can do, and will do, is still his +theme; meantime the juice of the juniper is in requisition, +and it seems that those small hires cannot be performed +without it. Returning from her wretched journey +to her wretcheder home, the lady had to listen to a mild +reproof from easy-going Diaper,—a reproof so mild that +he couched it in blank verse: for, seldom writing metrically +now, he took to talking it. With a fluent sympathetic +tear, he explained to her that she was damaging her interests +by these proceedings; nor did he shrink from undertaking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +to elucidate wherefore. Pluming a smile upon his +succulent mouth, he told her that the poverty she lived +in was utterly unbefitting her gentle nurture, and that he +had reason to believe—could assure her—that an annuity +was on the point of being granted her by her husband. +And Diaper broke his bud of a smile into full +flower as he delivered this information. She learnt that +he had applied to her husband for money. It is hard to +have one's prop of self-respect cut away just when we are +suffering a martyr's agony at the stake. There was a five +minutes tragic colloquy in the recesses behind the scenes,—totally +tragic to Diaper, who had fondly hoped to bask +in the warm sun of that annuity, and re-emerge from his +state of grub. The lady then wrote the letter Sir Austin +held open to his sister. The atmosphere behind the scenes +is not wholesome, so, having laid the Ghost, we will return +and face the curtain.</p> + +<p>That infinitesimal dose of <span class="smcap">The World</span> which Master +Ripton Thompson had furnished to the System with such +instantaneous and surprising effect was considered by Sir +Austin to have worked well, and to be for the time quite +sufficient, so that Ripton did not receive a second invitation +to Raynham, and Richard had no special intimate of +his own age to rub his excessive vitality against, and +wanted none. His hands were full enough with Tom +Bakewell. Moreover, his father and he were heart in +heart. The boy's mind was opening, and turned to his +father affectionately reverent. At this period, when the +young savage grows into higher influences, the faculty +of worship is foremost in him. At this period Jesuits will +stamp the future of their chargeling flocks; and all who +bring up youth by a System, and watch it, know that it +is the malleable moment. Boys possessing any mental or +moral force to give them a tendency, then predestinate +their careers; or, if under supervision, take the impress +that is given them: not often to cast it off, and seldom to +cast it off altogether.</p> + +<p>In Sir Austin's Note-book was written: "Between +Simple Boyhood and Adolescence—The Blossoming Season—on +the threshold of Puberty, there is one Unselfish +Hour—say, Spiritual Seed-time."</p> + +<p>He took care that good seed should be planted in Richard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +and that the most fruitful seed for a youth, namely, +Example, should be of a kind to germinate in him the love +of every form of nobleness.</p> + +<p>"I am only striving to make my son a Christian," he +said, answering them who persisted in expostulating with +the System. And to these instructions he gave an aim: +"First be virtuous," he told his son, "and then serve your +country with heart and soul." The youth was instructed +to cherish an ambition for statesmanship, and he and his +father read history and the speeches of British orators +to some purpose; for one day Sir Austin found him leaning +cross-legged, and with his hand to his chin, against +a pedestal supporting the bust of Chatham, contemplating +the hero of our <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Parliment'">Parliament</ins>, his eyes streaming with tears.</p> + +<p>People said the baronet carried the principle of Example +so far that he only retained his boozing dyspeptic brother +Hippias at Raynham in order to exhibit to his son the +woeful retribution nature wreaked upon a life of indulgence; +poor Hippias having now become a walking complaint. +This was unjust, but there is no doubt he made +use of every illustration to disgust or encourage his son +that his neighbourhood afforded him, and did not spare his +brother, for whom Richard entertained a contempt in proportion +to his admiration of his father, and was for flying +into penitential extremes which Sir Austin had to +soften.</p> + +<p>The boy prayed with his father morning and night.</p> + +<p>"How is it, sir," he said one night, "I can't get Tom +Bakewell to pray?"</p> + +<p>"Does he refuse?" Sir Austin asked.</p> + +<p>"He seems to be ashamed to," Richard replied. "He +wants to know what is the good? and I don't know what +to tell him."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it has gone too far with him," said Sir +Austin, "and until he has had some deep sorrows he will +not find the divine want of Prayer. Strive, my son, when +you represent the people, to provide for their education. +He feels everything now through a dull impenetrable rind. +Culture is half-way to heaven. Tell him, my son, should +he ever be brought to ask how he may know the efficacy +of Prayer, and that his prayer will be answered, tell him +(he quoted <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>):<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Who rises from Prayer a better man, his prayer is +answered.'"</p> + +<p>"I will, sir," said Richard, and went to sleep happy.</p> + +<p>Happy in his father and in himself, the youth now +lived. Conscience was beginning to inhabit him, and he +carried some of the freightage known to men; though in +so crude a form that it overweighed him, now on this +side, now on that.</p> + +<p>The wise youth Adrian observed these further progressionary +developments in his pupil, soberly cynical. He +was under Sir Austin's interdict not to banter him, and +eased his acrid humours inspired by the sight of a felonious +young rick-burner turning saint, by grave affectations +of sympathy and extreme accuracy in marking the +not widely-distant dates of his various changes. The +Bread-and-water phase lasted a fortnight: the Vegetarian +(an imitation of his cousin Austin), a little better than +a month: the religious, somewhat longer: the religious-propagandist +(when he was for converting the heathen of +Lobourne and Bursley, and the domestics of the Abbey, +including Tom Bakewell), longer still, and hard to bear;—he +tried to convert Adrian! All the while Tom was +being exercised like a raw recruit. Richard had a drill-sergeant +from the nearest barracks down for him, to give +him a proper pride in himself, and marched him to and +fro with immense satisfaction, and nearly broke his heart +trying to get the round-shouldered rustic to take in the +rudiments of letters: for the boy had unbounded hopes +for Tom, as a hero in grain.</p> + +<p>Richard's pride also was cast aside. He affected to be, +and really thought he was, humble. Whereupon Adrian, +as by accident, imparted to him the fact that men were +animals, and he an animal with the rest of them.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> an animal!" cried Richard in scorn, and for weeks he +was as troubled by this rudiment of self-knowledge as +Tom by his letters. Sir Austin had him instructed in +the wonders of anatomy, to restore his self-respect.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Seed-time</span> passed thus smoothly, and adolescence came +on, and his cousin Clare felt what it was to be of an opposite +sex to him. She too was growing, but nobody cared +how she grew. Outwardly even her mother seemed absorbed +in the sprouting of the green off-shoot of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +Feverel tree, and Clare was his handmaiden, little marked +by him.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish honestly loved the boy. She would tell +him: "If I had been a girl, I would have had you for my +husband." And he with the frankness of his years +would reply: "And how do you know I would have had +you?" causing her to laugh and call him a silly boy, +for had he not heard her say she would have had him? +Terrible words, he knew not then the meaning of!</p> + +<p>"You don't read your father's Book," she said. Her +own copy was bound in purple velvet, gilt-edged, as decorative +ladies like to have holier books, and she carried it +about with her, and quoted it, and (Adrian remarked to +Mrs. Doria) hunted a noble quarry, and deliberately aimed +at him therewith, which Mrs. Doria chose to believe, and +regretted her brother would not be on his guard.</p> + +<p>"See here," said Lady Blandish, pressing an almondy +finger-nail to one of the Aphorisms, which instanced how +age and adversity must clay-enclose us ere we can effectually +resist the magnetism of any human creature in our +path. "Can you understand it, child?"</p> + +<p>Richard informed her that when she read he could.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, my squire," she touched his cheek and ran +her fingers through his hair, "learn as quick as you can +not to be all hither and yon with a hundred different +attractions, as I was before I met a wise man to guide me."</p> + +<p>"Is my father very wise?" Richard asked.</p> + +<p>"I think so," the lady emphasized her individual judgment.</p> + +<p>"Do you——" Richard broke forth, and was stopped +by a beating of his heart.</p> + +<p>"Do I—what?" she calmly queried.</p> + +<p>"I was going to say, do you—I mean, I love him so +much."</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish smiled and slightly coloured.</p> + +<p>They frequently approached this theme, and always retreated +from it; always with the same beating of heart to +Richard, accompanied by the sense of a growing mystery, +which, however, did not as yet generally disturb him.</p> + +<p>Life was made very pleasant to him at Raynham, as it +was part of Sir Austin's principle of education that his +boy should be thoroughly joyous and happy; and whenever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +Adrian sent in a satisfactory report of his pupil's +advancement, which he did pretty liberally, diversions +were planned, just as prizes are given to diligent schoolboys, +and Richard was supposed to have all his desires +gratified while he attended to his studies. The System +flourished. Tall, strong, bloomingly healthy, he took the +lead of his companions on land and water, and had more +than one bondsman in his service besides Ripton Thompson—the +boy without a Destiny! Perhaps the boy with a +Destiny was growing up a trifle too conscious of it. His +generosity to his occasional companions was princely, but +was exercised something too much in the manner of a +prince; and, notwithstanding his contempt for baseness, +he would overlook that more easily than an offence to his +pride, which demanded an utter servility when it had once +been rendered susceptible. If Richard had his followers +he had also his feuds. The Papworths were as subservient +as Ripton, but young Ralph Morton, the nephew of Mr. +Morton, and a match for Richard in numerous promising +qualities, comprising the noble science of fisticuffs, this +youth spoke his mind too openly, and moreover would not +be snubbed. There was no middle course for Richard's +comrades between high friendship or absolute slavery. He +was deficient in those cosmopolite habits and feelings +which enable boys and men to hold together without caring +much for each other; and, like every insulated mortal, +he attributed the deficiency, of which he was quite aware, +to the fact of his possessing a superior nature. Young +Ralph was a lively talker: therefore, argued Richard's +vanity, he had no intellect. He was affable: therefore he +was frivolous. The women liked him: therefore he was +a butterfly. In fine, young Ralph was popular, and our +superb prince, denied the privilege of despising, ended by +detesting him.</p> + +<p>Early in the days of their contention for leadership, +Richard saw the absurdity of affecting to scorn his rival. +Ralph was an Eton boy, and hence, being robust, a swimmer +and a cricketer. A swimmer and a cricketer is nowhere +to be scorned in youth's republic. Finding that +man[oe]uvre would not do, Richard was prompted once or +twice to entrench himself behind his greater wealth and +his position; but he soon abandoned that also, partly because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +his chilliness to ridicule told him he was exposing +himself, and chiefly that his heart was too chivalrous. +And so he was dragged into the lists by Ralph, and experienced +the luck of champions. For cricket, and for diving, +Ralph bore away the belt: Richard's middle-stump +tottered before his ball, and he could seldom pick up more +than three eggs under water to Ralph's half-dozen. He +was beaten, too, in jumping and running. Why will silly +mortals strive to the painful pinnacles of championship? +Or why, once having reached them, not have the magnanimity +and circumspection to retire into private life +immediately? Stung by his defeats, Richard sent one of +his dependent Papworths to Poer Hall, with a challenge +to Ralph Barthrop Morton; matching himself to swim +across the Thames and back, once, twice, or thrice, within +a less time than he, Ralph Barthrop Morton, would require +for the undertaking. It was accepted, and a reply returned, +equally formal in the trumpeting of Christian +names, wherein Ralph Barthrop Morton acknowledged the +challenge of Richard Doria Feverel, and was his man. +The match came off on a midsummer morning, under the +direction of Captain Algernon. Sir Austin was a spectator +from the cover of a plantation by the river-side, unknown +to his son, and, to the scandal of her sex, Lady +Blandish accompanied the baronet. He had invited her +attendance, and she, obeying her frank nature, and knowing +what <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span> said about prudes, at once +agreed to view the match, pleasing him mightily. For was +not here a woman worthy the Golden Ages of the world? +one who could look upon man as a creature divinely made, +and look with a mind neither tempted, nor taunted, by the +Serpent! Such a woman was rare. Sir Austin did not +discompose her by uttering his praises. She was conscious +of his approval only in an increased gentleness of +manner, and something in his voice and communications, +as if he were speaking to a familiar, a very high compliment +from him. While the lads were standing ready for +the signal to plunge from the steep decline of greensward +into the shining water, Sir Austin called upon her to +admire their beauty, and she did, and even advanced her +head above his shoulder delicately. In so doing, and just +as the start was given, a bonnet became visible to Richard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +Young Ralph was heels in air before he moved, and then +he dropped like lead. He was beaten by several lengths.</p> + +<p>The result of the match was unaccountable to all present, +and Richard's friends unanimously pressed him to +plead a false start. But though the youth, with full confidence +in his better style and equal strength, had backed +himself heavily against his rival, and had lost his little +river-yacht to Ralph, he would do nothing of the sort. +It was the Bonnet had beaten him, not Ralph. The Bonnet, +typical of the mystery that caused his heart those +violent palpitations, was his dear, detestable enemy.</p> + +<p>And now, as he progressed from mood to mood, his ambition +turned towards a field where Ralph could not rival +him, and where the Bonnet was etherealized, and reigned +glorious mistress. A check to the pride of a boy will frequently +divert him to the path where lie his subtlest +powers. Richard gave up his companions, servile or antagonistic: +he relinquished the material world to young +Ralph, and retired into himself, where he was growing to +be lord of kingdoms: where Beauty was his handmaid, and +History his minister, and Time his ancient harper, and +sweet Romance his bride; where he walked in a realm +vaster and more gorgeous than the great Orient, peopled +with the heroes that have been. For there is no princely +wealth, and no loftiest heritage, to equal this early one +that is made bountifully common to so many, when the +ripening blood has put a spark to the imagination, and +the earth is seen through rosy mists of a thousand fresh-awakened +nameless and aimless desires; panting for bliss +and taking it as it comes; making of any sight or sound, +perforce of the enchantment they carry with them, a key +to infinite, because innocent, pleasure. The passions then +are gambolling cubs; not the ravaging gluttons they grow +to. They have their teeth and their talons, but they +neither tear nor bite. They are in counsel and fellowship +with the quickened heart and brain. The whole sweet +system moves to music.</p> + +<p>Something akin to the indications of a change in the +spirit of his son, which were now seen, Sir Austin had +marked down to be expected, as due to his plan. The +blushes of the youth, his long vigils, his clinging to solitude, +his abstraction, and downcast but not melancholy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +air, were matters for rejoicing to the prescient gentleman. +"For it comes," said he to Dr. Clifford of Lobourne, after +consulting him medically on the youth's behalf and being +assured of his soundness, "it comes of a thoroughly sane +condition. The blood is healthy, the mind virtuous: +neither instigates the other to evil, and both are perfecting +toward the flower of manhood. If he reach that pure—in +the untainted fulness and perfection of his natural +powers—I am indeed a happy father! But one thing he +will owe to me: that at one period of his life he knew paradise, +and could read God's handwriting on the earth! +Now those abominations whom you call precocious boys—your +little pet monsters, doctor!—and who can wonder +that the world is what it is? when it is full of them—as +they will have no divine time to look back upon in their +own lives, how can they believe in innocence and goodness, +or be other than sons of selfishness and the Devil? But +my boy," and the baronet dropped his voice to a key that +was touching to hear, "my boy, if he fall, will fall from +an actual region of purity. He dare not be a sceptic as to +that. Whatever his darkness, he will have the guiding +light of a memory behind him. So much is secure."</p> + +<p>To talk nonsense, or poetry, or the dash between the two, +in a tone of profound sincerity, and to enunciate solemn +discordances with received opinion so seriously as to convey +the impression of a spiritual insight, is the peculiar +gift by which monomaniacs, having first persuaded themselves, +to contrive to influence their neighbours, and +through them to make conquest of a good half of the +world, for good or for ill. Sir Austin had this gift. He +spoke as if he saw the truth, and, persisting in it so long, +he was accredited by those who did not understand him, +and silenced them that did.</p> + +<p>"We shall see," was all the argument left to Dr. Clifford, +and other unbelievers.</p> + +<p>So far certainly the experiment had succeeded. A +comelier, braver, better boy was nowhere to be met. His +promise was undeniable. The vessel, too, though it lay +now in harbour and had not yet been proved by the buffets +of the elements on the great ocean, had made a good trial +trip, and got well through stormy weather, as the records +of the Bakewell Comedy witnessed to at Raynham. No<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +augury could be hopefuller. The Fates must indeed be +hard, the Ordeal severe, the Destiny dark, that could destroy +so bright a Spring! But, bright as it was, the baronet +relaxed nothing of his vigilant supervision. He said +to his intimates: "Every act, every fostered inclination, +almost every thought in this Blossoming Season, bears +its seed for the Future. The living Tree now requires +incessant watchfulness." And, acting up to his light, +Sir Austin did watch. The youth submitted to an examination +every night before he sought his bed; professedly +to give an account of his studies, but really to +recapitulate his moral experiences of the day. He could +do so, for he was pure. Any wildness in him that his father +noted, any remoteness or richness of fancy in his expressions, +was set down as incidental to the Blossoming +Season. There is nothing like a theory for binding the +wise. Sir Austin, despite his rigid watch and ward, knew +less of his son than the servant of his household. And he +was deaf, as well as blind. Adrian thought it his duty to +tell him that the youth was consuming paper. Lady +Blandish likewise hinted at his mooning propensities. Sir +Austin from his lofty watch-tower of the System had +foreseen it, he said. But when he came to hear that the +youth was writing poetry, his wounded heart had its reasons +for being much disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Lady Blandish, "you knew he scribbled?"</p> + +<p>"A very different thing from writing poetry," said the +baronet. "No Feverel has ever written poetry."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it's a sign of degeneracy," the lady remarked. +"He rhymes very prettily to me."</p> + +<p>A London phrenologist, and a friendly Oxford Professor +of poetry, quieted Sir Austin's fears.</p> + +<p>The phrenologist said he was totally deficient in the +imitative faculty; and the Professor, that he was equally +so in the rhythmic, and instanced several consoling false +quantities in a few effusions submitted to him. Added +to this, Sir Austin told Lady Blandish that Richard had, +at his best, done what no poet had ever been known to be +capable of doing: he had, with his own hands, and in cold +blood, committed his virgin manuscript to the flames: +which made Lady Blandish sigh forth, "Poor boy!"</p> + +<p>Killing one's darling child is a painful imposition. For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +a youth in his Blossoming Season, who fancies himself +a poet, to be requested to destroy his first-born, without a +reason (though to pretend a reason cogent enough to justify +the request were a mockery), is a piece of abhorrent +despotism, and Richard's blossoms withered under it. A +strange man had been introduced to him, who traversed +and bisected his skull with sagacious stiff fingers, and +crushed his soul while, in an infallible voice, declaring +him the animal he was: making him feel such an animal! +Not only his blossoms withered, his being seemed to draw +in its shoots and twigs. And when, coupled thereunto +(the strange man having departed, his work done), his +father, in his tenderest manner, stated that it would give +him pleasure to see those same precocious, utterly valueless, +scribblings among the cinders, the last remaining +mental blossom spontaneously fell away. Richard's spirit +stood bare. He protested not. Enough that it could be +wished! He would not delay a minute in doing it. Desiring +his father to follow him, he went to a drawer in his +room, and from a clean-linen recess, never suspected by +Sir Austin, the secretive youth drew out bundle after +bundle: each neatly tied, named, and numbered: and +pitched them into flames. And so Farewell my young +Ambition! and with it farewell all true confidence between +Father and Son.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE MAGNETIC AGE</h3> + + +<p>It was now, as Sir Austin had written it down, The +Magnetic Age: the Age of violent attractions, when to +hear mention of love is dangerous, and to see it, a communication +of the disease. People at Raynham were +put on their guard by the baronet, and his reputation for +wisdom was severely criticized in consequence of the injunctions +he thought fit to issue through butler and +housekeeper down to the lower household, for the preservation +of his son from any visible symptom of the passion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +A footman and two housemaids are believed to have been +dismissed on the report of heavy Benson that they were +in or inclining to the state; upon which an under-cook and +a dairymaid voluntarily threw up their places, averring +that "they did not want no young men, but to have their +sex spied after by an old wretch like that," indicating the +ponderous butler, "was a little too much for a Christian +woman," and then they were ungenerous enough to glance +at Benson's well-known marital calamity, hinting that +some men met their deserts. So intolerable did heavy +Benson's espionage become, that Raynham would have +grown depopulated of its womankind had not Adrian +interfered, who pointed out to the baronet what a fearful +arm his butler was wielding. Sir Austin acknowledged +it despondently. "It only shows," said he, with a +fine spirit of justice, "how all but impossible it is to legislate +where there are women!"</p> + +<p>"I do not object," he added; "I hope I am too just to +object to the exercise of their natural inclinations. All +I ask from them is discreetness."</p> + +<p>"Ay," said Adrian, whose discreetness was a marvel.</p> + +<p>"No gadding about in couples," continued the baronet, +"no kissing in public. Such occurrences no boy should +witness. Whenever people of both sexes are thrown together, +they will be silly; and where they are high-fed, uneducated, +and barely occupied, it must be looked for as +a matter of course. Let it be known that I only require +discreetness."</p> + +<p>Discreetness, therefore, was instructed to reign at the +Abbey. Under Adrian's able tuition the fairest of its +domestics acquired that virtue.</p> + +<p>Discreetness, too, was enjoined to the upper household. +Sir Austin, who had not previously appeared to notice the +case of Lobourne's hopeless curate, now desired Mrs. +Doria to interdict, or at least discourage, his visits, for +the appearance of the man was that of an embodied sigh +and groan.</p> + +<p>"Really, Austin!" said Mrs. Doria, astonished to find +her brother more awake than she had supposed, "I have +never allowed him to hope."</p> + +<p>"Let him see it, then," replied the baronet; "let him +see it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The man amuses me," said Mrs. Doria. "You know, +we have few amusements here, we inferior creatures. I +confess I should like a barrel-organ better; that reminds +one of town and the opera; and besides, it plays more +than one tune. However, since you think my society bad +for him, let him stop away."</p> + +<p>With the self-devotion of a woman she grew patient +and sweet the moment her daughter Clare was spoken of, +and the business of her life in view. Mrs. Doria's maternal +heart had betrothed the two cousins, Richard and +Clare; had already beheld them espoused and fruitful. +For this she yielded the pleasures of town; for this she +immured herself at Raynham; for this she bore with a +thousand follies, exactions, inconveniences, things abhorrent +to her, and heaven knows what forms of torture and +self-denial, which are smilingly endured by that greatest +of voluntary martyrs—a mother with a daughter to +marry. Mrs. Doria, an amiable widow, had surely married +but for her daughter Clare. The lady's hair no woman +could possess without feeling it her pride. It was the daily +theme of her lady's-maid,—a natural aureole to her head. +She was gay, witty, still physically youthful enough to +claim a destiny; and she sacrificed it to accomplish her +daughter's! sacrificed, as with heroic scissors, hair, wit, +gaiety—let us not attempt to enumerate how much! more +than may be said. And she was only one of thousands; +thousands who have no portion of the hero's reward; for +he may reckon on applause, and condolence, and sympathy, +and honour; they, poor slaves! must look for nothing +but the opposition of their own sex and the sneers +of ours. O, Sir Austin! had you not been so blinded, +what an Aphorism might have sprung from this point +of observation! Mrs. Doria was coolly told, between sister +and brother, that during the Magnetic Age her daughter's +presence at Raynham was undesirable. Instead of nursing +offence, her sole thought was the mountain of prejudice +she had to contend against. She bowed, and said, +Clare wanted sea-air—she had never quite recovered the +shock of that dreadful night. How long, Mrs. Doria +wished to know, might the Peculiar Period be expected +to last?</p> + +<p>"That," said Sir Austin, "depends. A year, perhaps,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +he is entering on it. I shall be most grieved to lose you, +Helen. Clare is now—how old?"</p> + +<p>"Seventeen."</p> + +<p>"She is marriageable."</p> + +<p>"Marriageable, Austin! at seventeen! don't name such +a thing. My child shall not be robbed of her youth."</p> + +<p>"Our women marry early, Helen."</p> + +<p>"My child shall not!"</p> + +<p>The baronet reflected a moment. He did not wish to +lose his sister.</p> + +<p>"As you are of that opinion, Helen," said he, "perhaps +we may still make arrangements to retain you with us. +Would you think it advisable to send Clare—she should +know discipline—to some establishment for a few +months?"...</p> + +<p>"To an asylum, Austin?" cried Mrs. Doria, controlling +her indignation as well as she could.</p> + +<p>"To some select superior seminary, Helen. There are +such to be found."</p> + +<p>"Austin!" Mrs. Doria exclaimed, and had to fight with +a moisture in her eyes. "Unjust! absurd!" she murmured. +The baronet thought it a natural proposition +that Clare should be a bride or a schoolgirl.</p> + +<p>"I cannot leave my child." Mrs. Doria trembled. +"Where she goes, I go. I am aware that she is only one of +our sex, and therefore of no value to the world, but she +is my child. I will see, poor dear, that you have no cause +to complain of her."</p> + +<p>"I thought," Sir Austin remarked, "that you acquiesced +in my views with regard to my son."</p> + +<p>"Yes—generally," said Mrs. Doria, and felt culpable +that she had not before, and could not then, tell her +brother that he had set up an Idol in his house—an Idol +of flesh! more retributive and abominable than wood or +brass or gold. But she had bowed to the Idol too long—she +had too entirely bound herself to gain her project by +subserviency. She had, and she dimly perceived it, committed +a greater fault in tactics, in teaching her daughter +to bow to the Idol also. Love of that kind Richard took +for tribute. He was indifferent to Clare's soft eyes. The +parting kiss he gave her was ready and cold as his father +could desire. Sir Austin now grew eloquent to him in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +laudation of manly pursuits: but Richard thought his +eloquence barren, his attempts at companionship awkward, +and all manly pursuits and aims, life itself, vain and +worthless. To what end? sighed the blossomless youth, +and cried aloud, as soon as he was relieved of his father's +society, what was the good of anything? Whatever he +did—whichever path he selected, led back to Raynham. +And whatever he did, however wretched and wayward he +showed himself, only confirmed Sir Austin more and more +in the truth of his previsions. Tom Bakewell, now the +youth's groom, had to give the baronet a report of his +young master's proceedings, in common with Adrian, and +while there was no harm to tell, Tom spoke out. "He +do ride like fire every day to Pig's Snout," naming the +highest hill in the neighbourhood, "and stand there and +stare, never movin', like a mad 'un. And then hoam agin +all slack as if he'd been beaten in a race by somebody."</p> + +<p>"There is no woman in that!" mused the baronet. +"He would have ridden back as hard as he went," reflected +this profound scientific humanist, "had there been a woman +in it. He would shun vast expanses, and seek shade, +concealment, solitude. The desire for distances betokens +emptiness and undirected hunger: when the heart is possessed +by an image we fly to wood and forest, like the +guilty."</p> + +<p>Adrian's report accused his pupil of an extraordinary +access of cynicism.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said the baronet. "As I foresaw. At this +period an insatiate appetite is accompanied by a fastidious +palate. Nothing but the quintessences of existence, and +those in exhaustless supplies, will satisfy this craving, +which is not to be satisfied! Hence his bitterness. Life +can furnish no food fitting for him. The strength and +purity of his energies have reached to an almost divine +height, and roam through the Inane. Poetry, love, and +such-like, are the drugs earth has to offer to high natures, +as she offers to low ones debauchery. 'Tis a sign, this +sourness, that he is subject to none of the empiricisms +that are afloat. Now to keep him clear of them!"</p> + +<p>The Titans had an easier task in storming Olympus. +As yet, however, it could not be said that Sir Austin's +System had failed. On the contrary, it had reared a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +youth, handsome, intelligent, well-bred, and, observed the +ladies, with acute emphasis, innocent. Where, they asked, +was such another young man to be found?</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Lady Blandish to Sir Austin, "if men could +give their hands to women unsoiled—how different would +many a marriage be! She will be a happy girl who calls +Richard husband."</p> + +<p>"Happy, indeed!" was the baronet's caustic ejaculation. +"But where shall I meet one equal to him, and his match?"</p> + +<p>"I was innocent when I was a girl," said the lady.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin bowed a reserved opinion.</p> + +<p>"Do you think no girls innocent?"</p> + +<p>Sir Austin gallantly thought them all so.</p> + +<p>"No, that you know they are not," said the lady, stamping. +"But they are more innocent than boys, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Because of their education, madam. You see now +what a youth can be. Perhaps, when my System is published, +or rather—to speak more humbly—when it is +practised, the balance may be restored, and we shall have +virtuous young men."</p> + +<p>"It's too late for poor me to hope for a husband from +one of them," said the lady, pouting and laughing.</p> + +<p>"It is never too late for beauty to waken love," returned +the baronet, and they trifled a little. They were approaching +Daphne's Bower, which they entered, and sat there to +taste the coolness of a descending midsummer day.</p> + +<p>The baronet seemed in a humour for dignified fooling; +the lady for serious converse.</p> + +<p>"I shall believe again in Arthur's knights," she said. +"When I was a girl I dreamed of one."</p> + +<p>"And he was in quest of the San Greal?"</p> + +<p>"If you like."</p> + +<p>"And showed his good taste by turning aside for the +more tangible San Blandish?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you consider it would have been so," sighed +the lady, ruffling.</p> + +<p>"I can only judge by our generation," said Sir Austin, +with a bend of homage.</p> + +<p>The lady gathered her mouth. "Either we are very +mighty or you are very weak."</p> + +<p>"Both, madam."</p> + +<p>"But whatever we are, and if we are bad, bad! we love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +virtue, and truth, and lofty souls, in men: and, when we +meet those qualities in them, we are constant, and would +die for them—die for them. Ah! you know men but not +women."</p> + +<p>"The knights possessing such distinctions must be +young, I presume?" said Sir Austin.</p> + +<p>"Old, or young!"</p> + +<p>"But if old, they are scarce capable of enterprise?"</p> + +<p>"They are loved for themselves, not for their deeds."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—ah!" said the lady. "Intellect may subdue women—make +slaves of them; and they worship beauty perhaps +as much as you do. But they only love for ever and +are mated when they meet a noble nature."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin looked at her wistfully.</p> + +<p>"And did you encounter the knight of your dream?"</p> + +<p>"Not then." She lowered her eyelids. It was prettily +done.</p> + +<p>"And how did you bear the disappointment?"</p> + +<p>"My dream was in the nursery. The day my frock was +lengthened to a gown I stood at the altar. I am not the +only girl that has been made a woman in a day, and +given to an ogre instead of a true knight."</p> + +<p>"Good God!" exclaimed Sir Austin, "women have much +to bear."</p> + +<p>Here the couple changed characters. The lady became +gay as the baronet grew earnest.</p> + +<p>"You know it is our lot," she said. "And we are allowed +many amusements. If we fulfil our duty in producing +children, that, like our virtue, is its own reward. Then, +as a widow, I have wonderful privileges."</p> + +<p>"To preserve which, you remain a widow?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she responded. "I have no trouble now in +patching and piecing that rag the world calls—a character. +I can sit at your feet every day unquestioned. +To be sure, others do the same, but they are female +eccentrics, and have cast off the rag altogether."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin drew nearer to her. "You would have made +an admirable mother, madam."</p> + +<p>This from Sir Austin was very like positive wooing.</p> + +<p>"It is," he continued, "ten thousand pities that you are +not one."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" She spoke with humility.</p> + +<p>"I would," he went on, "that heaven had given you a +daughter."</p> + +<p>"Would you have thought her worthy of Richard?"</p> + +<p>"Our blood, madam, should have been one!"</p> + +<p>The lady tapped her toe with her parasol. "But I am +a mother," she said. "Richard is my son. Yes! Richard +is my boy," she reiterated.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin most graciously appended, "Call him ours, +madam," and held his head as if to catch the word from +her lips, which, however, she chose to refuse, or defer. +They made the coloured West a common point for their +eyes, and then Sir Austin said:</p> + +<p>"As you will not say 'ours,' let me. And, as you have +therefore an equal claim on the boy, I will confide to you +a project I have lately conceived."</p> + +<p>The announcement of a project hardly savoured of a +coming proposal, but for Sir Austin to confide one to a +woman was almost tantamount to a declaration. So Lady +Blandish thought, and so said her soft, deep-eyed smile, +as she perused the ground while listening to the project. +It concerned Richard's nuptials. He was now nearly +eighteen. He was to marry when he was five-and-twenty. +Meantime a young lady, some years his junior, was to be +sought for in the homes of England, who would be every +way fitted by education, instincts, and blood—on each of +which qualifications Sir Austin unreservedly enlarged—to +espouse so perfect a youth and accept the honourable +duty of assisting in the perpetuation of the Feverels. +The baronet went on to say that he proposed to set forth +immediately, and devote a couple of months, to the first +essay in his C[oe]lebite search.</p> + +<p>"I fear," said Lady Blandish, when the project had +been fully unfolded, "you have laid down for yourself a +difficult task. You must not be too exacting."</p> + +<p>"I know it." The baronet's shake of the head was +piteous.</p> + +<p>"Even in England she will be rare. But I confine myself +to no class. If I ask for blood it is for untainted, not +what you call high blood. I believe many of the middle +classes are frequently more careful—more pure-blooded—than +our aristocracy. Show me among them a God-fearing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +family who educate their children—I should prefer a +girl without brothers and sisters—as a Christian damsel +should be educated—say; on the model of my son, and she +may be penniless, I will pledge her to Richard Feverel."</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish bit her lip. "And what do you do with +Richard while you are absent on this expedition?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the baronet, "he accompanies his father."</p> + +<p>"Then give it up. His future bride is now pinafored +and bread-and-buttery. She romps, she cries, she dreams +of play and pudding. How can he care for her? He +thinks more at his age of old women like me. He will +be certain to kick against her, and destroy your plan, +believe me, Sir Austin."</p> + +<p>"Ay? ay? do you think that?" said the baronet.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish gave him a multitude of reasons.</p> + +<p>"Ay! true," he muttered. "Adrian said the same. He +must not see her. How could I think of it! The child is +naked woman. He would despise her. Naturally!"</p> + +<p>"Naturally!" echoed the lady.</p> + +<p>"Then, madam," and the baronet rose, "there is one +thing for me to determine upon. I must, for the first +time in his life, leave him."</p> + +<p>"Will you, indeed?" said the lady.</p> + +<p>"It is my duty, having thus brought him up, to see that +he is properly mated,—not wrecked upon the quicksands +of marriage, as a youth so delicately trained might be; +more easily than another! Betrothed, he will be safe from +a thousand snares. I may, I think, leave him for a term. +My precautions have saved him from the temptations of +his season."</p> + +<p>"And under whose charge will you leave him?" Lady +Blandish inquired.</p> + +<p>She had emerged from the temple, and stood beside +Sir Austin on the upper steps, under a clear summer +twilight.</p> + +<p>"Madam!" he took her hand, and his voice was gallant +and tender, "under whose but yours?"</p> + +<p>As the baronet said this, he bent above her hand, and +raised it to his lips.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish felt that she had been wooed and asked +in wedlock. She did not withdraw her hand. The baronet's +salute was flatteringly reverent. He deliberated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +over it, as one going through a grave ceremony. And +he, the scorner of women, had chosen her for his homage! +Lady Blandish forgot that she had taken some trouble +to arrive at it. She received the exquisite compliment in +all its unique honey-sweet: for in love we must deserve +nothing or the fine bloom of fruition is gone.</p> + +<p>The lady's hand was still in durance, and the baronet +had not recovered from his profound inclination, when a +noise from the neighbouring beechwood startled the two +actors in this courtly pantomime. They turned their +heads, and beheld the hope of Raynham on horseback +surveying the scene. The next moment he had galloped +away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>AN ATTRACTION</h3> + + +<p>All night Richard tossed on his bed with his heart in a +rapid canter, and his brain bestriding it, traversing the +rich untasted world, and the great Realm of Mystery, from +which he was now restrained no longer. Months he had +wandered about the gates of the Bonnet, wondering, sighing, +knocking at them, and getting neither admittance +nor answer. He had the key now. His own father had +given it to him. His heart was a lightning steed, and +bore him on and on over limitless regions bathed in super-human +beauty and strangeness, where cavaliers and ladies +leaned whispering upon close green swards, and knights +and ladies cast a splendour upon savage forests, and tilts +and tourneys were held in golden courts lit to a glorious +day by ladies' eyes, one pair of which, dimly visioned, +constantly distinguishable, followed him through the +boskage and dwelt upon him in the press, beaming while +he bent above a hand glittering white and fragrant as the +frosted blossom of a May night.</p> + +<p>Awhile the heart would pause and flutter to a shock: he +was in the act of consummating all earthly bliss by pressing +his lips to the small white hand. Only to do that, +and die! cried the Magnetic Youth: to fling the Jewel of +Life into that one cup and drink it off! He was intoxicated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +by anticipation. For that he was born. There was, +then, some end in existence, something to live for! to +kiss a woman's hand, and die! He would leap from the +couch, and rush to pen and paper to relieve his swarming +sensations. Scarce was he seated when the pen was +dashed aside, the paper sent flying with the exclamation, +"Have I not sworn I would never write again?" Sir +Austin had shut that safety-valve. The nonsense that +was in the youth might have poured harmlessly out, and +its urgency for ebullition was so great that he was repeatedly +oblivious of his oath, and found himself seated +under the lamp in the act of composition before pride +could speak a word. Possibly the pride even of Richard +Feverel had been swamped if the act of composition were +easy at such a time, and a single idea could stand clearly +foremost; but myriads were demanding the first place; +chaotic hosts, like ranks of stormy billows, pressed impetuously +for expression, and despair of reducing them +to form, quite as much as pride, to which it pleased him +to refer his incapacity, threw down the powerless pen, and +sent him panting to his outstretched length and another +headlong career through the rosy-girdled land.</p> + +<p>Toward morning the madness of the fever abated somewhat, +and he went forth into the air. A lamp was still +burning in his father's room, and Richard thought, as he +looked up, that he saw the ever-vigilant head on the +watch. Instantly the lamp was extinguished, the window +stood cold against the hues of dawn.</p> + +<p>Strong pulling is an excellent medical remedy for certain +classes of fever. Richard took to it instinctively. +The clear fresh water, burnished with sunrise, sparkled +against his arrowy prow; the soft deep shadows curled +smiling away from his gliding keel. Overhead solitary +morning unfolded itself, from blossom to bud, from bud +to flower; still, delicious changes of light and colour, to +whose influences he was heedless as he shot under willows +and aspens, and across sheets of river-reaches, pure mirrors +to the upper glory, himself the sole tenant of the +stream. Somewhere at the founts of the world lay the +land he was rowing toward; something of its shadowed +lights might be discerned here and there. It was not a +dream, now he knew. There was a secret abroad. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +woods were full of it; the waters rolled with it, and the +winds. Oh, why could not one in these days do some +high knightly deed which should draw down ladies' eyes +from their heaven, as in the days of Arthur! To such +a meaning breathed the unconscious sighs of the youth, +when he had pulled through his first feverish energy.</p> + +<p>He was off Bursley, and had lapsed a little into that +musing quietude which follows strenuous exercise, when +he heard a hail and his own name called. It was no lady, +no fairy, but young Ralph Morton, an irruption of miserable +masculine prose. Heartily wishing him abed with +the rest of mankind, Richard rowed in and jumped ashore. +Ralph immediately seized his arm, saying that he desired +earnestly to have a talk with him, and dragged the Magnetic +Youth from his water-dreams, up and down the wet +mown grass. That he had to say seemed to be difficult +of utterance, and Richard, though he barely listened, soon +had enough of his old rival's gladness at seeing him, and +exhibited signs of impatience; whereat Ralph, as one who +branches into matter somewhat foreign to his mind, but +of great human interest and importance, put the question +to him:</p> + +<p>"I say, what woman's name do you like best?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know any," quoth Richard, indifferently. +"Why are you out so early?"</p> + +<p>In answer to this, Ralph suggested that the name of +Mary might be considered a pretty name.</p> + +<p>Richard agreed that it might be; the housekeeper at +Raynham, half the women cooks, and all the housemaids +enjoyed that name; the name of Mary was equivalent for +women at home.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," said Ralph. "We have lots of Marys. +It's so common. Oh! I don't like Mary best. What do +you think of Lucy?"</p> + +<p>Richard thought it just like another.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," Ralph continued, throwing off the mask +and plunging into the subject, "I'd do anything on earth +for some names—one or two. It's not Mary, nor Lucy. +Clarinda's pretty, but it's like a novel. Claribel, I like. +Names beginning with 'Cl' I prefer. The 'Cl's' are always +gentle and lovely girls you would die for! Don't +you think so?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>Richard had never been acquainted with any of them to +inspire that emotion. Indeed these urgent appeals to his +fancy in feminine names at five o'clock in the morning +slightly surprised him, though he was but half awake to +the outer world. By degrees he perceived that Ralph was +changed. Instead of the lusty boisterous boy, his rival in +manly sciences, who spoke straightforwardly and acted up +to his speech, here was an abashed and blush-persecuted +youth, who sued piteously for a friendly ear wherein to +pour the one idea possessing him. Gradually, too, Richard +apprehended that Ralph likewise was on the frontiers of +the Realm of Mystery, perhaps further toward it than he +himself was; and then, as by a sympathetic stroke, was +revealed to him the wonderful beauty and depth of meaning +in feminine names. The theme appeared novel and +delicious, fitted to the season and the hour. But the +hardship was, that Richard could choose none from +the number; all were the same to him; he loved them +all.</p> + +<p>"Don't you really prefer the 'Cl's'?" said Ralph, persuasively.</p> + +<p>"Not better than the names ending in 'a' and 'y,'" Richard +replied, wishing he could, for Ralph was evidently +ahead of him.</p> + +<p>"Come under these trees," said Ralph. And under the +trees Ralph unbosomed. His name was down for the +army: Eton was quitted for ever. In a few months he +would have to join his regiment, and before he left he +must say good-bye to his friends.... Would Richard +tell him Mrs. Forey's address? he had heard she was somewhere +by the sea. Richard did not remember the address, +but said he would willingly take charge of any +letter and forward it.</p> + +<p>Ralph dived his hand into his pocket. "Here it is. But +don't let anybody see it."</p> + +<p>"My aunt's name is not Clare," said Richard, perusing +what was composed of the exterior formula. "You've +addressed it to Clare herself."</p> + +<p>That was plain to see.</p> + +<p>"Emmeline Clementina Matilda Laura, Countess Blandish," +Richard continued in a low tone, transferring the +names, and playing on the musical strings they were to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +him. Then he said: "Names of ladies! How they +sweeten their names!"</p> + +<p>He fixed his eyes on Ralph. If he discovered anything +further he said nothing, but bade the good fellow good-bye, +jumped into his boat, and pulled down the tide. The +moment Ralph was hidden by an abutment of the banks, +Richard perused the address. For the first time it struck +him that his cousin Clare was a very charming creature: +he remembered the look of her eyes, and especially the +last reproachful glance she gave him at parting. What +business had Ralph to write to her? Did she not belong +to Richard Feverel? He read the words again and again: +Clare Doria Forey. Why, Clare was the name he liked +best—nay, he loved it. Doria, too—she shared his own +name with him. Away went his heart, not at a canter +now, at a gallop, as one who sights the quarry. He felt +too weak to pull. Clare Doria Forey—-oh, perfect melody! +Sliding with the tide, he heard it fluting in the bosom of +the hills.</p> + +<p>When nature has made us ripe for love, it seldom occurs +that the Fates are behindhand in furnishing a temple for +the flame.</p> + +<p>Above green-flashing plunges of a weir, and shaken by +the thunder below, lilies, golden and white, were swaying +at anchor among the reeds. Meadow-sweet hung from +the banks thick with weed and trailing bramble, and there +also hung a daughter of earth. Her face was shaded by a +broad straw hat with a flexible brim that left her lips and +chin in the sun, and, sometimes nodding, sent forth a +light of promising eyes. Across her shoulders, and behind, +flowed large loose curls, brown in shadow, almost golden +where the ray touched them. She was simply dressed, befitting +decency and the season. On a closer inspection +you might see that her lips were stained. This blooming +young person was regaling on dewberries. They grew between +the bank and the water. Apparently she found the +fruit abundant, for her hand was making pretty progress +to her mouth. Fastidious youth, which revolts at woman +plumping her exquisite proportions on bread-and-butter, +and would (we must suppose) joyfully have her scraggy +to have her poetical, can hardly object to dewberries. Indeed +the act of eating them is dainty and induces musing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +The dewberry is a sister to the lotus, and an innocent +sister. You eat: mouth, eye, and hand are occupied, and +the undrugged mind free to roam. And so it was with the +damsel who knelt there. The little skylark went up above +her, all song, to the smooth southern cloud lying along +the blue: from a dewy copse dark over her nodding hat +the blackbird fluted, calling to her with thrice mellow +note: the kingfisher flashed emerald out of green osiers: +a bow-winged heron travelled aloft, seeking solitude: a +boat slipped toward her, containing a dreamy youth; and +still she plucked the fruit, and ate, and mused, as if no +fairy prince were invading her territories, and as if she +wished not for one, or knew not her wishes. Surrounded +by the green shaven meadows, the pastoral summer buzz, +the weir-fall's thundering white, amid the breath and +beauty of wild flowers, she was a bit of lovely human life +in a fair setting; a terrible attraction. The Magnetic +Youth leaned round to note his proximity to the weir-piles, +and beheld the sweet vision. Stiller and stiller grew +nature, as at the meeting of two electric clouds. Her +posture was so graceful, that though he was making +straight for the weir, he dared not dip a scull. Just then +one enticing dewberry caught her eyes. He was floating +by unheeded, and saw that her hand stretched low, and +could not gather what it sought. A stroke from his +right brought him beside her. The damsel glanced up +dismayed, and her whole shape trembled over the brink. +Richard sprang from his boat into the water. Pressing +a hand beneath her foot, which she had thrust against +the crumbling wet sides of the bank to save herself, he +enabled her to recover her balance, and gain safe earth, +whither he followed her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>FERDINAND AND MIRANDA</h3> + + +<p>He had landed on an island of the still-vexed Bermoothes. +The world lay wrecked behind him: Raynham +hung in mists, remote, a phantom to the vivid reality of +this white hand which had drawn him thither away thousands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +of leagues in an eye-twinkle. Hark, how Ariel +sang overhead! What splendour in the heavens! What +marvels of beauty about his enchanted brows! And, O +you wonder! Fair Flame! by whose light the glories of +being are now first seen.... Radiant Miranda! Prince +Ferdinand is at your feet.</p> + +<p>Or is it Adam, his rib taken from his side in sleep, +and thus transformed, to make him behold his Paradise, +and lose it?...</p> + +<p>The youth looked on her with as glowing an eye. It +was the First Woman to him.</p> + +<p>And she—mankind was all Caliban to her, saving this +one princely youth.</p> + +<p>So to each other said their changing eyes in the moment +they stood together; he pale, and she blushing.</p> + +<p>She was indeed sweetly fair, and would have been held +fair among rival damsels. On a magic shore, and to a +youth educated by a System, strung like an arrow drawn +to the head, he, it might be guessed, could fly fast and far +with her. The soft rose in her cheeks, the clearness of +her eyes, bore witness to the body's virtue; and health +and happy blood were in her bearing. Had she stood +before Sir Austin among rival damsels, that Scientific +Humanist, for the consummation of his System, would +have thrown her the handkerchief for his son. The wide +summer-hat, nodding over her forehead to her brows, +seemed to flow with the flowing heavy curls, and those +fire-threaded mellow curls, only half-curls, waves of hair +call them, rippling at the ends, went like a sunny red-veined +torrent down her back almost to her waist: a +glorious vision to the youth, who embraced it as a flower +of beauty, and read not a feature. There were curious +features of colour in her face for him to have read. Her +brows, thick and brownish against a soft skin showing the +action of the blood, met in the bend of a bow, extending +to the temples long and level: you saw that she was fashioned +to peruse the sights of earth, and by the pliability +of her brows that the wonderful creature used her faculty, +and was not going to be a statue to the gazer. Under the +dark thick brows an arch of lashes shot out, giving a +wealth of darkness to the full frank blue eyes, a mystery +of meaning—more than brain was ever meant to fathom:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +richer, henceforth, than all mortal wisdom to Prince Ferdinand. +For when nature turns artist, and produces contrasts +of colour on a fair face, where is the Sage, or what +the Oracle, shall match the depth of its lightest look?</p> + +<p>Prince Ferdinand was also fair. In his slim boating-attire +his figure looked heroic. His hair, rising from the +parting to the right of his forehead, in what his admiring +Lady Blandish called his plume, fell away slanting silkily +to the temples across the nearly imperceptible upward +curve of his brows there—felt more than seen, so slight +it was—and gave to his profile a bold beauty, to which +his bashful, breathless air was a flattering charm. An +arrow drawn to the head, capable of flying fast and far +with her! He leaned a little forward, drinking her in +with all his eyes, and young Love has a thousand. Then +truly the System triumphed, just ere it was to fall; and +could Sir Austin have been content to draw the arrow +to the head, and let it fly, when it would fly, he might +have pointed to his son again, and said to the world, +"Match him!" Such keen bliss as the youth had in the +sight of her, an innocent youth alone has powers of soul +in him to experience.</p><br /> + + + +<p>"O Women!" says <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>, in one of its +solitary outbursts, "Women, who like, and will have for +hero, a rake! how soon are you not to learn that you have +taken bankrupts to your bosoms, and that the putrescent +gold that attracted you is the slime of the Lake of Sin!"</p><br /> + + + +<p>If these two were Ferdinand and Miranda, Sir Austin +was not Prospero, and was not present, or their fates +might have been different.</p> + +<p>So they stood a moment, changing eyes, and then +Miranda spoke, and they came down to earth, feeling +no less in heaven.</p> + +<p>She spoke to thank him for his aid. She used quite +common simple words; and used them, no doubt, to express +a common simple meaning: but to him she was uttering +magic, casting spells, and the effect they had on him was +manifested in the incoherence of his replies, which were +too foolish to be chronicled.</p> + +<p>The couple were again mute. Suddenly Miranda, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +an exclamation of anguish, and innumerable lights and +shadows playing over her lovely face, clapped her hands, +crying aloud, "My book! my book!" and ran to the bank.</p> + +<p>Prince Ferdinand was at her side. "What have you +lost?" he said.</p> + +<p>"My book!" she answered, her delicious curls swinging +across her shoulders to the stream. Then turning to him, +"Oh, no, no! let me entreat you not to," she said; "I do +not so very much mind losing it." And in her eagerness +to restrain him she unconsciously laid her gentle hand +upon his arm, and took the force of motion out of him.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I do not really care for the silly book," she +continued, withdrawing her hand quickly, and reddening. +"Pray, do not!"</p> + +<p>The young gentleman had kicked off his shoes. No +sooner was the spell of contact broken than he jumped +in. The water was still troubled and discoloured by his +introductory adventure, and, though he ducked his head +with the spirit of a dabchick, the book was missing. A +scrap of paper floating from the bramble just above the +water, and looking as if fire had caught its edges and +it had flown from one adverse element to the other, was +all he could lay hold of; and he returned to land disconsolately, +to hear Miranda's murmured mixing of thanks +and pretty expostulations.</p> + +<p>"Let me try again," he said.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed!" she replied, and used the awful threat: +"I will run away if you do," which effectually restrained +him.</p> + +<p>Her eye fell on the fire-stained scrap of paper, and +brightened, as she cried, "There, there! you have what I +want. It is that. I do not care for the book. No, please! +You are not to look at it. Give it me."</p> + +<p>Before her playfully imperative injunction was fairly +spoken, Richard had glanced at the document and discovered +a Griffin between two Wheatsheaves: his crest in +silver: and below—O wonderment immense! his own handwriting!</p> + +<p>He handed it to her. She took it, and put it in her +bosom.</p> + +<p>Who would have thought, that, where all else perished, +Odes, Idyls, Lines, Stanzas, this one Sonnet to the stars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +should be miraculously reserved for such a starry fate—passing +beatitude!</p> + +<p>As they walked silently across the meadow, Richard +strove to remember the hour and the mood of mind in +which he had composed the notable production. The +stars were invoked, as seeing and foreseeing all, to tell +him where then his love reclined, and so forth; Hesper +was complacent enough to do so, and described her in +a couplet—</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Through sunset's amber see me shining fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As her blue eyes shine through her golden hair."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>And surely no words could be more prophetic. Here +were two blue eyes and golden hair; and by some strange +chance, that appeared like the working of a divine finger, +she had become the possessor of the prophecy, she that +was to fulfil it! The youth was too charged with emotion +to speak. Doubtless the damsel had less to think of, +or had some trifling burden on her conscience, for she +seemed to grow embarrassed. At last she drew up her +chin to look at her companion under the nodding brim +of her hat (and the action gave her a charmingly freakish +air), crying, "But where are you going to? You are wet +through. Let me thank you again; and, pray, leave me, +and go home and change instantly."</p> + +<p>"Wet?" replied the magnetic muser, with a voice of +tender interest; "not more than one foot, I hope. I will +leave you while you dry your stockings in the sun."</p> + +<p>At this she could not withhold a shy laugh.</p> + +<p>"Not I, but you. You would try to get that silly book +for me, and you are dripping wet. Are you not very +uncomfortable?"</p> + +<p>In all sincerity he assured her that he was not.</p> + +<p>"And you really do not feel that you are wet?"</p> + +<p>He really did not: and it was a fact that he spoke truth.</p> + +<p>She pursed her dewberry mouth in the most comical +way, and her blue eyes lightened laughter out of the half-closed +lids.</p> + +<p>"I cannot help it," she said, her mouth opening, and +sounding harmonious bells of laughter in his ears. "Pardon +me, won't you?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>His face took the same soft smiling curves in admiration +of her.</p> + +<p>"Not to feel that you have been in the water, the very +moment after!" she musically interjected, seeing she was +excused.</p> + +<p>"It's true," he said; and his own gravity then touched +him to join a duet with her, which made them no longer +feel strangers, and did the work of a month of intimacy. +Better than sentiment, laughter opens the breast to love; +opens the whole breast to his full quiver, instead of a +corner here and there for a solitary arrow. Hail the +occasion propitious, O British young! and laugh and +treat love as an honest God, and dabble not with the +sentimental rouge. These two laughed, and the souls of +each cried out to the other, "It is I, it is I."</p> + +<p>They laughed and forgot the cause of their laughter, +and the sun dried his light river clothing, and they strolled +toward the blackbird's copse, and stood near a stile in +sight of the foam of the weir and the many-coloured rings +of eddies streaming forth from it.</p> + +<p>Richard's boat, meanwhile, had contrived to shoot the +weir, and was swinging, bottom upward, broadside with +the current down the rapid backwater.</p> + +<p>"Will you let it go?" said the damsel, eyeing it curiously.</p> + +<p>"It can't be stopped," he replied, and could have added: +"What do I care for it now!"</p> + +<p>His old life was whirled away with it, dead, drowned. +His new life was with her, alive, divine.</p> + +<p>She flapped low the brim of her hat. "You must really +not come any farther," she softly said.</p> + +<p>"And will you go, and not tell me who you are?" he +asked, growing bold as the fears of losing her came across +him. "And will you not tell me before you go"—his face +burned—"how you came by that—that paper?"</p> + +<p>She chose to select the easier question for answer: +"You ought to know me; we have been introduced." Sweet +was her winning off-hand affability.</p> + +<p>"Then who, in heaven's name, are you? Tell me! I +never could have forgotten you."</p> + +<p>"You have, I think," she said.</p> + +<p>"Impossible that we could ever have met, and I forget +you!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>She looked up at him.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember Belthorpe?"</p> + +<p>"Belthorpe! Belthorpe!" quoth Richard, as if he had +to touch his brain to recollect there was such a place. +"Do you mean old Blaize's farm?"</p> + +<p>"Then I am old Blaize's niece." She tripped him a +soft curtsey.</p> + +<p>The magnetized youth gazed at her. By what magic +was it that this divine sweet creature could be allied with +that old churl!</p> + +<p>"Then what—what is your name?" said his mouth, +while his eyes added, "O wonderful creature! How came +you to enrich the earth?"</p> + +<p>"Have you forgot the Desboroughs of Dorset, too?" she +peered at him from a side-bend of the flapping brim.</p> + +<p>"The Desboroughs of Dorset?" A light broke in on +him. "And have you grown to this? That little girl I +saw there!"</p> + +<p>He drew close to her to read the nearest features of +the vision. She could no more laugh off the piercing +fervour of his eyes. Her volubility fluttered under his +deeply wistful look, and now neither voice was high, and +they were mutually constrained.</p> + +<p>"You see," she murmured, "we are old acquaintances."</p> + +<p>Richard, with his eyes still intently fixed on her, returned, +"You are very beautiful!"</p> + +<p>The words slipped out. Perfect simplicity is unconsciously +audacious. Her overpowering beauty struck his +heart, and, like an instrument that is touched and answers +to the touch, he spoke.</p> + +<p>Miss Desborough made an effort to trifle with this terrible +directness; but his eyes would not be gainsaid, and +checked her lips. She turned away from them, her bosom +a little rebellious. Praise so passionately spoken, and by +one who has been a damsel's first dream, dreamed of +nightly many long nights, and clothed in the virgin silver +of her thoughts in bud, praise from him is coin the heart +cannot reject, if it would. She quickened her steps.</p> + +<p>"I have offended you!" said a mortally wounded voice +across her shoulder.</p> + +<p>That he should think so were too dreadful.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no! you would never offend me." She gave +him her whole sweet face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then why—why do you leave me?"</p> + +<p>"Because," she hesitated, "I must go."</p> + +<p>"No. You must not go. Why must you go? Do not +go."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I must," she said, pulling at the obnoxious +broad brim of her hat; and, interpreting a pause he made +for his assent to her rational resolve, shyly looking at him, +she held her hand out, and said, "Good-bye," as if it were +a natural thing to say.</p> + +<p>The hand was pure white—white and fragrant as the +frosted blossom of a Maynight. It was the hand whose +shadow, cast before, he had last night bent his head reverentially +above, and kissed—resigning himself thereupon +over to execution for payment of the penalty of such daring—by +such bliss well rewarded.</p> + +<p>He took the hand, and held it, gazing between her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," she said again, as frankly as she could, +and at the same time slightly compressing her fingers on +his in token of adieu. It was a signal for his to close +firmly upon hers.</p> + +<p>"You will not go?"</p> + +<p>"Pray, let me," she pleaded, her sweet brows suing in +wrinkles.</p> + +<p>"You will not go?" Mechanically he drew the white +hand nearer his thumping heart.</p> + +<p>"I must," she faltered piteously.</p> + +<p>"You will not go?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! yes!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me. Do you wish to go?"</p> + +<p>The question was a subtle one. A moment or two she +did not answer, and then forswore herself, and said, Yes.</p> + +<p>"Do you—you wish to go?" He looked with quivering +eyelids under hers.</p> + +<p>A fainter Yes responded.</p> + +<p>"You wish—wish to leave me?" His breath went with +the words.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I must."</p> + +<p>Her hand became a closer prisoner.</p> + +<p>All at once an alarming delicious shudder went through +her frame. From him to her it coursed, and back from +her to him. Forward and back love's electric messenger +rushed from heart to heart, knocking at each, till it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +surged tumultuously against the bars of its prison, crying +out for its mate. They stood trembling in unison, +a lovely couple under these fair heavens of the morning.</p> + +<p>When he could get his voice it said, "Will you go?"</p> + +<p>But she had none to reply with, and could only mutely +bend upward her gentle wrist.</p> + +<p>"Then, farewell!" he said, and, dropping his lips to the +soft fair hand, kissed it, and hung his head, swinging +away from her, ready for death.</p> + +<p>Strange, that now she was released she should linger +by him. Strange, that his audacity, instead of the executioner, +brought blushes and timid tenderness to his +side, and the sweet words, "You are not angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"With you, O Beloved!" cried his soul. "And you forgive +me, fair charity!"</p> + +<p>"I think it was rude of me to go without thanking you +again," she said, and again proffered her hand.</p> + +<p>The sweet heaven-bird shivered out his song above him. +The gracious glory of heaven fell upon his soul. He +touched her hand, not moving his eyes from her, nor +speaking, and she, with a soft word of farewell, passed +across the stile, and up the pathway through the dewy +shades of the copse, and out of the arch of the light, +away from his eyes.</p><br /> + + +<p>And away with her went the wild enchantment. He +looked on barren air. But it was no more the world of +yesterday. The marvellous splendours had sown seeds in +him, ready to spring up and bloom at her gaze; and in his +bosom now the vivid conjuration of her tones, her face, +her shape, makes them leap and illumine him like fitful +summer lightnings—ghosts of the vanished sun.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to tell him that he had been making +love and declaring it with extraordinary rapidity; nor did +he know it. Soft flushed cheeks! sweet mouth! strange +sweet brows! eyes of softest fire! how could his ripe eyes +behold you, and not plead to keep you? Nay, how could +he let you go? And he seriously asked himself that +question.</p> + +<p>To-morrow this place will have a memory—the river +and the meadow, and the white falling weir: his heart will +build a temple here; and the skylark will be its high-priest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +and the old blackbird its glossy-gowned chorister, +and there will be a sacred repast of dewberries. To-day +the grass is grass: his heart is chased by phantoms and +finds rest nowhere. Only when the most tender freshness +of his flower comes across him does he taste a moment's +calm; and no sooner does it come than it gives place to +keen pangs for fear that she may not be his for ever.</p> + +<p>Erelong he learns that her name is Lucy. Erelong he +meets Ralph, and discovers that in a day he has distanced +him by a sphere. He and Ralph and the curate of Lobourne +join in their walks, and raise classical discussions +on ladies' hair, fingering a thousand delicious locks, from +those of Cleopatra to the Borgia's. "Fair! fair! all of +them fair!" sighs the melancholy curate, "as are those +women formed for our perdition! I think we have in +this country what will match the Italian or the Greek." +His mind flutters to Mrs. Doria, Richard blushes before +the vision of Lucy, and Ralph, whose heroine's hair is a +dark luxuriance, dissents, and claims a noble share in +the slaughter of men for dark-haired Wonders. They +have no mutual confidences, but they are singularly kind +to each other, these three children of instinct.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>UNMASKING OF MASTER RIPTON THOMPSON</h3> + + +<p>Lady Blandish, and others who professed an interest in +the fortunes and future of the systematized youth, had occasionally +mentioned names of families whose alliance +according to apparent calculations, would not degrade his +blood: and over these names, secretly preserved on an open +leaf of the note-book, Sir Austin, as he neared the metropolis, +distantly dropped his eye. There were names +historic and names mushroomic; names that the Conqueror +might have called in his muster-roll; names that +had been, clearly, tossed into the upper stratum of civilized +life by a mill-wheel or a merchant-stool. Against them +the baronet had written M., or Po. or Pr.—signifying, +Money, Position, Principles, favouring the latter with +special brackets. The wisdom of a worldly man, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +he could now and then adopt, determined him, before he +commenced his round of visits, to consult and sound his +solicitor and his physician thereanent; lawyers and doctors +being the rats who know best the merits of a house, +and on what sort of foundation it may be standing.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin entered the great city with a sad mind. +The memory of his misfortune came upon him vividly, +as if no years had intervened, and it were but yesterday +that he found the letter telling him that he had no wife +and his son no mother. He wandered on foot through the +streets the first night of his arrival, looking strangely at +the shops and shows and bustle of the world from which +he had divorced himself; feeling as destitute as the poorest +vagrant. He had almost forgotten how to find his +way about, and came across his old mansion in his efforts +to regain his hotel. The windows were alight—signs of +merry life within. He stared at it from the shadow of +the opposite side. It seemed to him he was a ghost gazing +upon his living past. And then the phantom which had +stood there mocking while he felt as other men—the +phantom, now flesh and blood reality, seized and convulsed +his heart, and filled its unforgiving crevices with bitter +ironic venom. He remembered by the time reflection returned +to him that it was Algernon, who had the house +at his disposal, probably giving a card-party, or something +of the sort. In the morning, too, he remembered that he +had divorced the world to wed a System, and must be +faithful to that exacting Spouse, who, now alone of things +on earth, could fortify and recompense him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson received his client with the dignity and +emotion due to such a rent-roll and the unexpectedness +of the honour. He was a thin stately man of law, garbed +as one who gave audience to sacred bishops, and carrying +on his countenance the stamp of paternity to the parchment-skins, +and of a virtuous attachment to Port wine +sufficient to increase his respectability in the eyes of moral +Britain. After congratulating Sir Austin on the fortunate +issue of two or three suits, and being assured that the +baronet's business in town had no concern therewith, Mr. +Thompson ventured to hope that the young heir was all +his father could desire him to be, and heard with satisfaction +that he was a pattern to the youth of the Age.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A difficult time of life, Sir Austin!" said the old lawyer, +shaking his head. "We must keep our eyes on them—keep +awake! The mischief is done in a minute."</p> + +<p>"We must take care to have seen where we planted, and +that the root was sound, or the mischief will do itself in +spite of, or under the very spectacles of, supervision," +said the baronet.</p> + +<p>His legal adviser murmured "Exactly," as if that were +his own idea, adding, "It is my plan with Ripton, who has +had the honour of an introduction to you, and a very +pleasant time he spent with my young friend, whom he +does not forget. Ripton follows the Law. He is articled +to me, and will, I trust, succeed me worthily in your +confidence. I bring him into town in the morning; I take +him back at night. I think I may say that I am quite +content with him."</p> + +<p>"Do you think," said Sir Austin, fixing his brows, "that +you can trace every act of his to its motive?"</p> + +<p>The old lawyer bent forward and humbly requested that +this might be repeated.</p> + +<p>"Do you"—Sir Austin held the same searching expression—"do +you establish yourself in a radiating centre of +intuition: do you base your watchfulness on so thorough +an acquaintance with his character, so perfect a knowledge +of the instrument, that all its movements—even the eccentric +ones—are anticipated by you, and provided for?"</p> + +<p>The explanation was a little too long for the old lawyer +to entreat another repetition. Winking with the painful +deprecation of a deaf man, Mr. Thompson smiled urbanely, +coughed conciliatingly, and said he was afraid he could +not affirm that much, though he was happily enabled to +say that Ripton had borne an extremely good character +at school.</p> + +<p>"I find," Sir Austin remarked, as sardonically he relaxed +his inspecting pose and mien, "there are fathers +who are content to be simply obeyed. Now I require not +only that my son should obey; I would have him guiltless +of the impulse to gainsay my wishes—feeling me in him +stronger than his undeveloped nature, up to a certain +period, where my responsibility ends and his commences. +Man is a self-acting machine. He cannot cease to be a +machine; but, though self-acting, he may lose the powers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +of self-guidance, and in a wrong course his very vitalities +hurry him to perdition. Young, he is an organism ripening +to the set mechanic diurnal round, and while so he +needs all the angels to hold watch over him that he grow +straight and healthy, and fit for what machinal duties he +may have to perform." ...</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson agitated his eyebrows dreadfully. He was +utterly lost. He respected Sir Austin's estates too much +to believe for a moment he was listening to downright +folly. Yet how otherwise explain the fact of his excellent +client being incomprehensible to him? For a middle-aged +gentleman, and one who has been in the habit of +advising and managing, will rarely have a notion of accusing +his understanding; and Mr. Thompson had not the +slightest notion of accusing his. But the baronet's condescension +in coming thus to him, and speaking on the +subject nearest his heart, might well affect him, and he +quickly settled the case in favour of both parties, pronouncing +mentally that his honoured client had a meaning, +and so deep it was, so subtle, that no wonder he experienced +difficulty in giving it fitly significant words.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin elaborated his theory of the Organism and +the Mechanism, for his lawyer's edification. At a recurrence +of the world "healthy" Mr. Thompson caught him +up—</p> + +<p>"I apprehended you! Oh, I agree with you, Sir Austin! +entirely! Allow me to ring for my son Ripton. I think, +if you condescend to examine him, you will say that +regular habits, and a diet of nothing but law-reading—for +other forms of literature I strictly interdict—have +made him all that you instance."</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson's hand was on the bell. Sir Austin arrested +him.</p> + +<p>"Permit me to see the lad at his occupation," said he.</p> + +<p>Our old friend Ripton sat in a room apart with the +confidential clerk, Mr. Beazley, a veteran of law, now +little better than a document, looking already signed and +sealed, and shortly to be delivered, who enjoined nothing +from his pupil and companion save absolute silence, and +sounded his praises to his father at the close of days when +it had been rigidly observed—not caring, or considering, +the finished dry old document that he was, under what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +kind of spell a turbulent commonplace youth could be +charmed into stillness for six hours of the day. Ripton +was supposed to be devoted to the study of Blackstone. +A tome of the classic legal commentator lay extended +outside his desk, under the partially lifted lid of which +nestled the assiduous student's head—law being thus +brought into direct contact with his brainpan. The office-door +opened, and he heard not; his name was called, and +he remained equally moveless. His method of taking in +Blackstone seemed absorbing as it was novel.</p> + +<p>"Comparing notes, I daresay," whispered Mr. Thompson +to Sir Austin. "I call that study!"</p> + +<p>The confidential clerk rose, and bowed obsequious +senility.</p> + +<p>"Is it like this every day, Beazley?" Mr. Thompson +asked with parental pride.</p> + +<p>"Ahem!" the old clerk replied, "he is like this every +day, sir. I could not ask more of a mouse."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin stepped forward to the desk. His proximity +roused one of Ripton's senses, which blew a call to the +others. Down went the lid of the desk. Dismay, and the +ardours of study, flashed together in Ripton's face. He +slouched from his perch with the air of one who means +rather to defend his position than welcome a superior, +the right hand in his waistcoat pocket fumbling a key, +the left catching at his vacant stool.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin put two fingers on the youth's shoulder, and +said, leaning his head a little on one side, in a way +habitual to him, "I am glad to find my son's old comrade +thus profitably occupied. I know what study is myself. +But beware of prosecuting it too excitedly! Come! you +must not be offended at our interruption; you will soon +take up the thread again. Besides, you know, you must +get accustomed to the visits of your client."</p> + +<p>So condescending and kindly did this speech sound to +Mr. Thompson, that, seeing Ripton still preserve his appearance +of disorder and sneaking defiance, he thought +fit to nod and frown at the youth, and desired him to +inform the baronet what particular part of Blackstone he +was absorbed in mastering at that moment.</p> + +<p>Ripton hesitated an instant, and blundered out, with +dubious articulation, "The Law of Gravelkind."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What Law?" said Sir Austin, perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Gravelkind," again rumbled Ripton's voice.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin turned to Mr. Thompson for an explanation. +The old lawyer was shaking his law-box.</p> + +<p>"Singular!" he exclaimed. "He will make that mistake! +What law, sir?"</p> + +<p>Ripton read his error in the sternly painful expression +of his father's face, and corrected himself. "Gavelkind, +sir."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Mr. Thompson, with a sigh of relief. +"Gravelkind, indeed! Gavelkind! An old Kentish"——He +was going to expound, but Sir Austin assured him he +knew it, and a very absurd law it was, adding, "I should +like to look at your son's notes, or remarks on the judiciousness +of that family arrangement, if he has any."</p> + +<p>"You were making notes, or referring to them, as we +entered," said Mr. Thompson to the sucking lawyer; "a +very good plan, which I have always enjoined on you. +Were you not?"</p> + +<p>Ripton stammered that he was afraid he had not any +notes to show, worth seeing.</p> + +<p>"What were you doing then, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Making notes," muttered Ripton, looking incarnate +subterfuge.</p> + +<p>"Exhibit!"</p> + +<p>Ripton glanced at his desk and then at his father; at Sir +Austin, and at the confidential clerk. He took out his +key. It would not fit the hole.</p> + +<p>"Exhibit!" was peremptorily called again.</p> + +<p>In his praiseworthy efforts to accommodate the keyhole, +Ripton discovered that the desk was already unlocked. +Mr. Thompson marched to it, and held the lid +aloft. A book was lying open within, which Ripton immediately +hustled among a mass of papers and tossed +into a dark corner, not before the glimpse of a coloured +frontispiece was caught by Sir Austin's eye.</p> + +<p>The baronet smiled, and said, "You study Heraldry, +too? Are you fond of the science?"</p> + +<p>Ripton replied that he was very fond of it—extremely +attached, and threw a further pile of papers into the dark +corner.</p> + +<p>The notes had been less conspicuously placed, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +search for them was tedious and vain. Papers, not legal, +or the fruits of study, were found, that made Mr. Thompson +more intimate with the condition of his son's exchequer; +nothing in the shape of a remark on the Law +of Gavelkind.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson suggested to his son that they might be +among those scraps he had thrown carelessly into the dark +corner. Ripton, though he consented to inspect them, was +positive they were not there.</p> + +<p>"What have we here?" said Mr. Thompson, seizing a +neatly folded paper addressed to the Editor of a law publication, +as Ripton brought them forth, one by one. Forthwith +Mr. Thompson fixed his spectacles and read aloud:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<i>To the Editor of the 'Jurist.'</i></p> + +<p>"Sir,—In your recent observations on the great case +of Crim"——</p></blockquote> + +<p>Mr. Thompson hem'd! and stopped short, like a man +who comes unexpectedly upon a snake in his path. Mr. +Beazley's feet shuffled. Sir Austin changed the position +of an arm.</p> + +<p>"It's on the other side, I think," gasped Ripton.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson confidently turned over, and intoned +with emphasis.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"To Absalom, the son of David, the little Jew usurer of +Bond Court, Whitecross Gutters, for his introduction to +Venus, I O U Five pounds, when I can pay.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right">"Signed: <span class="smcap">Ripton Thompson</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Underneath this fictitious legal instrument was discreetly +appended:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"(Mem. Document not binding.)"</p></blockquote> + +<p>There was a pause: an awful under-breath of sanctified +wonderment and reproach passed round the office. Sir +Austin assumed an attitude. Mr. Thompson shed a +glance of severity on his confidential clerk, who parried +by throwing up his hands.</p> + +<p>Ripton, now fairly bewildered, stuffed another paper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +under his father's nose, hoping the outside perhaps would +satisfy him: it was marked "Legal Considerations." Mr. +Thompson had no idea of sparing or shielding his son. +In fact, like many men whose self-love is wounded by +their offspring, he felt vindictive, and was ready to +sacrifice him up to a certain point, for the good of both. +He therefore opened the paper, expecting something worse +than what he had hitherto seen, despite its formal heading, +and he was not disappointed.</p> + +<p>The "Legal Considerations" related to the Case regarding +which Ripton had conceived it imperative upon him to +address a letter to the Editor of the "Jurist," and was indeed +a great case, and an ancient; revived apparently for +the special purpose of displaying the forensic abilities of +the Junior Counsel for the Plaintiff, Mr. Ripton Thompson, +whose assistance the Attorney-General, in his opening +statement, congratulated himself on securing, a rather +unusual thing, due probably to the eminence and renown +of that youthful gentleman at the Bar of his country. +So much was seen from the copy of a report purporting +to be extracted from a newspaper, and prefixed to the +Junior Counsel's remarks, or Legal Considerations, on +the conduct of the Case, the admissibility and non-admissibility +of certain evidence, and the ultimate decision +of the judges.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson, senior, lifted the paper high, with the +spirit of one prepared to do execution on the criminal, and +in the voice of a town-crier, varied by a bitter accentuation +and satiric sing-song tone, deliberately read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Vulcan <i>v.</i> Mars.</p> + +<p>"The Attorney-General, assisted by Mr. Ripton Thompson, +appeared on behalf of the Plaintiff. Mr. Serjeant +Cupid, Q.C., and Mr. Capital Opportunity, for the Defendant."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Oh!" snapped Mr. Thompson, senior, peering venom at +the unfortunate Ripton over his spectacles, "your notes +are on that issue, sir! Thus you employ your time, sir!"</p> + +<p>With another side-shot at the confidential clerk, who +retired immediately behind a strong entrenchment of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +shrugs, Mr. Thompson was pushed by the devil of his +rancour to continue reading:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"This Case is too well known to require more than +a partial summary of particulars"....</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Ahem! we will skip the particulars, however partial," +said Mr. Thompson. "Ah!—what do you mean here, sir,—but +enough! I think we may be excused your Legal +Considerations on such a Case. This is how you employ +your law-studies, sir! You put them to this purpose? +Mr. Beazley! you will henceforward sit alone. I must have +this young man under my own eye. Sir Austin! permit +me to apologize to you for subjecting you to a scene so +disagreeable. It was a father's duty not to spare him."</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson wiped his forehead, as Brutus might +have done after passing judgment on the scion of his +house.</p> + +<p>"These papers," he went on, fluttering Ripton's precious +lucubrations in a waving judicial hand, "I shall retain. +The day will come when he will regard them with shame. +And it shall be his penance, his punishment, to do so! +Stop!" he cried, as Ripton was noiselessly shutting his +desk, "have you more of them, sir; of a similar description? +Rout them out! Let us know you at your worst. +What have you there—in that corner?"</p> + +<p>Ripton was understood to say he devoted that corner +to old briefs on important cases.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson thrust his trembling fingers among the +old briefs, and turned over the volume Sir Austin had +observed, but without much remarking it, for his suspicions +had not risen to print.</p> + +<p>"A Manual of Heraldry?" the baronet politely, and it +may be ironically, inquired, before it could well escape.</p> + +<p>"I like it very much," said Ripton, clutching the book +in dreadful torment.</p> + +<p>"Allow me to see that you have our arms and crest +correct." The baronet proffered a hand for the book.</p> + +<p>"A Griffin between two Wheatsheaves," cried Ripton, +still clutching it nervously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson, without any notion of what he was doing, +drew the book from Ripton's hold; whereupon the two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +seniors laid their grey heads together over the title-page. +It set forth in attractive characters beside a coloured +frontispiece, which embodied the promise displayed there, +the entrancing adventures of Miss Random, a strange +young lady.</p> + +<p>Had there been a Black Hole within the area of those +law regions to consign Ripton to there and then, or an +Iron Rod handy to mortify his sinful flesh, Mr. Thompson +would have used them. As it was, he contented himself +by looking Black Holes and Iron Rods at the detected +youth, who sat on his perch insensible to what might +happen next, collapsed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson cast the wicked creature down with a +"Pah!" He, however, took her up again, and strode away +with her. Sir Austin gave Ripton a forefinger, and kindly +touched his head, saying, "Good-bye, boy! At some future +date Richard will be happy to see you at Raynham."</p> + +<p>Undoubtedly this was a great triumph to the System!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>GOOD WINE AND GOOD BLOOD</h3> + + +<p>The conversation between solicitor and client was resumed.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible," quoth Mr. Thompson, the moment he +had ushered his client into his private room, "that you will +consent, Sir Austin, to see him and receive him again?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," the baronet replied. "Why not? This by +no means astonishes me. When there is no longer danger +to my son he will be welcome as he was before. He is a +schoolboy. I knew it. I expected it. The results of your +principle, Thompson!"</p> + +<p>"One of the very worst books of that abominable class!" +exclaimed the old lawyer, opening at the coloured frontispiece, +from which brazen Miss Random smiled bewitchingly +out, as if she had no doubt of captivating Time and +all his veterans on a fair field. "Pah!" he shut her to +with the energy he would have given to the office of publicly +slapping her face; "from this day I diet him on bread<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +and water—rescind his pocket-money!—How he could +have got hold of such a book! How he—! And what +ideas! Concealing them from me as he has done so +cunningly! He trifles with vice! His mind is in a putrid +state! I might have believed—I did believe—I might +have gone on believing—my son Ripton to be a moral +young man!" The old lawyer interjected on the delusion +of fathers, and sat down in a lamentable abstraction.</p> + +<p>"The lad has come out!" said Sir Austin. "His adoption +of the legal form is amusing. He trifles with vice, +true: people newly initiated are as hardy as its intimates, +and a young sinner's amusements will resemble those of a +confirmed debauchee. The satiated, and the insatiate, appetite +alike appeal to extremes. You are astonished at +this revelation of your son's condition. I expected it; +though assuredly, believe me, not this sudden and indisputable +proof of it. But I knew that the seed was in +him, and therefore I have not latterly invited him to +Raynham. School, and the corruption there, will bear +its fruits sooner or later. I could advise you, Thompson, +what to do with him: it would be my plan."</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson murmured, like a true courtier, that he +should esteem it an honour to be favoured with Sir Austin +Feverel's advice: secretly resolute, like a true Briton, to +follow his own.</p> + +<p>"Let him, then," continued the baronet, "see vice in its +nakedness. While he has yet some innocence, nauseate +him! Vice, taken little by little, usurps gradually the +whole creature. My counsel to you, Thompson, would be, +to drag him through the sinks of town."</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson began to blink again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall punish him, Sir Austin! Do not fear me, +sir. I have no tenderness for vice."</p> + +<p>"That is not what is wanted, Thompson. You mistake +me. He should be dealt with gently. Heavens! do you +hope to make him hate vice by making him a martyr for +its sake? You must descend from the pedestal of age to +become his Mentor: cause him to see how certainly and +pitilessly vice itself punishes: accompany him into its +haunts"——</p> + +<p>"Over town?" broke forth Mr. Thompson.</p> + +<p>"Over town," said the baronet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And depend upon it," he added, "that, until fathers act +thoroughly up to their duty, we shall see the sights we see +in great cities, and hear the tales we hear in little villages, +with death and calamity in our homes, and a legacy of +sorrow and shame to the generations to come. I do aver," +he exclaimed, becoming excited, "that, if it were not for +the duty to my son, and the hope I cherish in him, I, seeing +the accumulation of misery we are handing down to +an innocent posterity—to whom, through our sin, the fresh +breath of life will be foul—I—yes! I would hide my +name! For whither are we tending? What home is pure +absolutely? What cannot our doctors and lawyers tell +us?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson acquiesced significantly.</p> + +<p>"And what is to come of this?" Sir Austin continued. +"When the sins of the fathers are multiplied by the sons, +is not perdition the final sum of things? And is not life, +the boon of heaven, growing to be the devil's game utterly? +But for my son, I would hide my name. I would not bequeath +it to be cursed by them that walk above my grave!"</p> + +<p>This was indeed a terrible view of existence. Mr. +Thompson felt uneasy. There was a dignity in his client, +an impressiveness in his speech, that silenced remonstrating +reason and the cry of long years of comfortable +respectability. Mr. Thompson went to church regularly; +paid his rates and dues without overmuch, or at least +more than common, grumbling. On the surface he was +a good citizen, fond of his children, faithful to his wife, +devoutly marching to a fair seat in heaven on a path +paved by something better than a thousand a year. But +here was a man sighting him from below the surface, +and though it was an unfair, unaccustomed, not to say +un-English, method of regarding one's fellow-man, Mr. +Thompson was troubled by it. What though his client +exaggerated? Facts were at the bottom of what he said. +And he was acute—he had unmasked Ripton! Since Ripton's +exposure he winced at a personal application in the +text his client preached from. Possibly this was the secret +source of part of his anger against that peccant youth.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson shook his head, and, with dolefully puckered +visage and a pitiable contraction of his shoulders, +rose slowly up from his chair. Apparently he was about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +to speak, but he straightway turned and went meditatively +to a side-recess in the room, whereof he opened a door, +drew forth a tray and a decanter labelled <span class="smcap">PORT</span>, filled a +glass for his client, deferentially invited him to partake +of it; filled another glass for himself, and drank.</p> + +<p>That was his reply.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin never took wine before dinner. Thompson +had looked as if he meant to speak: he waited for Thompson's +words.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson saw that, as his client did not join him +in his glass, the eloquence of that Porty reply was lost +on his client.</p> + +<p>Having slowly ingurgitated and meditated upon this +precious draught, and turned its flavour over and over +with an aspect of potent Judicial wisdom (one might +have thought that he was weighing mankind in the balance), +the old lawyer heaved, and said, sharpening his +lips over the admirable vintage, "The world is in a very +sad state, I fear, Sir Austin!"</p> + +<p>His client gazed at him queerly.</p> + +<p>"But that," Mr. Thompson added immediately, ill-concealing +by his gaze the glowing intestinal congratulations +going on within him, "that is, I think you would say, Sir +Austin—if I could but prevail upon you—a tolerably +good character wine!"</p> + +<p>"There's virtue somewhere, I see, Thompson!" Sir +Austin murmured, without disturbing his legal adviser's +dimples.</p> + +<p>The old lawyer sat down to finish his glass, saying, that +such a wine was not to be had everywhere.</p> + +<p>They were then outwardly silent for a space. Inwardly +one of them was full of riot and jubilant uproar: as if the +solemn fields of law were suddenly to be invaded and +possessed by troops of Bacchanals: and to preserve a +decently wretched physiognomy over it, and keep on terms +with his companion, he had to grimace like a melancholy +clown in a pantomime.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson brushed back his hair. The baronet was +still expectant. Mr. Thompson sighed deeply, and emptied +his glass. He combated the change that had come over +him. He tried not to see Ruby. He tried to feel miserable, +and it was not in him. He spoke, drawing what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +appropriate inspirations he could from his client's countenance, +to show that they had views in common: "Degenerating +sadly, I fear!"</p> + +<p>The baronet nodded.</p> + +<p>"According to what my wine-merchants say," continued +Mr. Thompson, "there can be no doubt about it."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin stared.</p> + +<p>"It's the grape, or the ground, or something," Mr. +Thompson went on. "All I can say is, our youngsters +will have a bad look-out! In my opinion Government +should be compelled to send out a Commission to inquire +into the cause. To Englishmen it would be a public +calamity. It surprises me—I hear men sit and talk +despondently of this extraordinary disease of the vine, and +not one of them seems to think it incumbent on him to +act, and do his best to stop it." He fronted his client +like a man who accuses an enormous public delinquency. +"Nobody makes a stir! The apathy of Englishmen will +become proverbial. Pray, try it, Sir Austin! Pray, allow +me. Such a wine cannot disagree at any hour. Do! I +am allowanced two glasses three hours before dinner. +Stomachic. I find it <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'agree'">agrees</ins> with me surprisingly: quite +a new man. I suppose it will last our time. It must! +What should we do? There's no Law possible without it. +Not a lawyer of us could live. Ours is an occupation +which dries the blood."</p> + +<p>The scene with Ripton had unnerved him, the wine had +renovated, and gratitude to the wine inspired his tongue. +He thought that his client, of the whimsical mind, though +undoubtedly correct moral views, had need of a glass.</p> + +<p>"Now that very wine—Sir Austin—I think I do not err +in saying, that very wine your respected father, Sir +Pylcher Feverel, used to taste whenever he came to consult +my father, when I was a boy. And I remember one +day being called in, and Sir Pylcher himself poured me +out a glass. I wish I could call in Ripton now, and do +the same. No! Leniency in such a case as that!—The +wine would not hurt him—I doubt if there be much left +for him to welcome his guests with. Ha! ha! Now if +I could persuade you, Sir Austin, as you do not take +wine before dinner, some day to favour me with your +company at my little country cottage—I have a wine there—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +fellow to that—I think you would, I do think you +would"—Mr. Thompson meant to say, he thought his +client would arrive at something of a similar jocund +contemplation of his fellows in their degeneracy that inspirited +lawyers after potation, but condensed the sensual +promise into "highly approve."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin speculated on his legal adviser with a sour +mouth comically compressed.</p> + +<p>It stood clear to him that Thompson before his Port, +and Thompson after, were two different men. To indoctrinate +him now was too late: it was perhaps the time +to make the positive use of him he wanted.</p> + +<p>He pencilled on a handy slip of paper: "Two prongs +of a fork; the World stuck between them—Port and the +Palate: 'Tis one which fails first—Down goes World;" +and again the hieroglyph—"Port-spectacles." He said, +"I shall gladly accompany you this evening, Thompson," +words that transfigured the delighted lawyer, and ensigned +the skeleton of a great Aphorism to his pocket, there to +gather flesh and form, with numberless others in a like +condition.</p> + +<p>"I came to visit my lawyer," he said to himself. "I +think I have been dealing with The World in epitome!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE SYSTEM ENCOUNTERS THE WILD OATS +SPECIAL PLEA</h3> + + +<p>The rumour circulated that Sir Austin Feverel, the recluse +of Raynham, the rank misogynist, the rich baronet, +was in town, looking out a bride for his only son and +uncorrupted heir. Doctor Benjamin Bairam was the excellent +authority. Doctor Bairam had safely delivered +Mrs. Deborah Gossip of this interesting bantling, which +was forthwith dandled in dozens of feminine laps. Doctor +Bairam could boast the first interview with the famous +recluse. He had it from his own lips that the object +of the baronet was to look out a bride for his only son +and uncorrupted heir; "and," added the doctor, "she'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +be lucky who gets him." Which was interpreted to mean, +that he would be a catch; the doctor probably intending +to allude to certain extraordinary difficulties in the way +of a choice.</p> + +<p>A demand was made on the publisher of <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's +Scrip</span> for all his outstanding copies. Conventionalities +were defied. A summer-shower of cards fell on the +baronet's table.</p> + +<p>He had few male friends. He shunned the Clubs as +nests of scandal. The cards he contemplated were mostly +those of the sex, with the husband, if there was a +husband, evidently dragged in for propriety's sake. He +perused the cards and smiled. He knew their purpose. +What terrible light Thompson, and Bairam had thrown +on some of them! Heavens! in what a state was the +blood of this Empire.</p> + +<p>Before commencing his campaign he called on two +ancient intimates, Lord Heddon, and his distant cousin +Darley Absworthy, both Members of Parliament, useful +men, though gouty, who had sown in their time a fine +crop of wild oats, and advocated the advantage of doing +so, seeing that they did not fancy themselves the worse +for it. He found one with an imbecile son and the other +with consumptive daughters. "So much," he wrote in +the Note-book, "for the Wild Oats theory!"</p> + +<p>Darley was proud of his daughters' white and pink +skins. "Beautiful complexions," he called them. The +eldest was in the market, immensely admired. Sir Austin +Was introduced to her. She talked fluently and sweetly. +A youth not on his guard, a simple schoolboy youth, or +even a man, might have fallen in love with her, she was +so affable and fair. There was something poetic about +her. And she was quite well, she said, the baronet frequently +questioning her on that point. She intimated +that she was robust; but towards the close of their conversation +her hand would now and then travel to her +side, and she breathed painfully an instant, saying, "Isn't +it odd? Dora, Adela, and myself, we all feel the same +queer sensation—about the heart, I think it is—after +talking much."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin nodded and blinked sadly, exclaiming to his +soul, "Wild oats! wild oats!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>He did not ask permission to see Dora and Adela.</p> + +<p>Lord Heddon vehemently preached wild oats.</p> + +<p>"It's all nonsense, Feverel," he said, "about bringing up +a lad out of the common way. He's all the better for a +little racketing when he's green—feels his bone and muscle—learns +to know the world. He'll never be a man if +he hasn't played at the old game one time in his life, +and the earlier the better. I've always found the best +fellows were wildish once. I don't care what he does +when he's a greenhorn; besides, he's got an excuse for it +then. You can't expect to have a man, if he doesn't take +a man's food. You'll have a milksop. And, depend upon +it, when he does break out he'll go to the devil, and +nobody pities him. Look what those fellows, the grocers, +do when they get hold of a young—what d'ye call 'em?—apprentice. +They know the scoundrel was born with a +sweet tooth. Well! they give him the run of the shop, +and in a very short time he soberly deals out the goods, +a devilish deal too wise to abstract a morsel even for +the pleasure of stealing. I know you have contrary +theories. You hold that the young grocer should have a +soul above sugar. It won't do! Take my word for it, +Feverel, it's a dangerous experiment, that of bringing up +flesh and blood in harness. No colt will bear it, or he's +a tame beast. And look you: take it on medical grounds. +Early excesses the frame will recover from: late ones +break the constitution. There's the case in a nutshell. +How's your son?"</p> + +<p>"Sound and well!" replied Sir Austin. "And yours?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lipscombe's always the same!" Lord Heddon +sighed peevishly. "He's quiet—that's one good thing; +but there's no getting the country to take him, so I +must give up hopes of that."</p> + +<p>Lord Lipscombe entering the room just then, Sir Austin +surveyed him, and was not astonished at the refusal of +the country to take him.</p> + +<p>"Wild oats!" he thought, as he contemplated the headless, +degenerate, weedy issue and result.</p> + +<p>Both Darley Absworthy and Lord Heddon spoke of the +marriage of their offspring as a matter of course. "And +if I were not a coward," Sir Austin confessed to himself, +"I should stand forth and forbid the banns! This universal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +ignorance of the inevitable consequence of sin is +frightful! The wild oats plea is a torpedo that seems +to have struck the world, and rendered it morally insensible." +However, they silenced him. He was obliged to +spare their feelings on a subject to him so deeply sacred. +The healthful image of his noble boy rose before him, a +triumphant living rejoinder to any hostile argument.</p> + +<p>He was content to remark to his doctor, that he thought +the third generation of wild oats would be a pretty thin +crop!</p> + +<p>Families against whom neither Thompson lawyer nor +Bairam physician could recollect a progenitorial blot, +either on the male or female side, were not numerous. +"Only," said the doctor, "you really must not be too +exacting in these days, my dear Sir Austin. It is impossible +to contest your principle, and you are doing mankind +incalculable service in calling its attention to this the +gravest of its duties: but as the stream of civilization +progresses we must be a little taken in the lump, as it +were. The world is, I can assure you—and I do not +look only above the surface, you can believe—the world +is awakening to the vital importance of the question."</p> + +<p>"Doctor," replied Sir Austin, "if you had a pure-blood +Arab barb would you cross him with a screw?"</p> + +<p>"Decidedly not," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Then permit me to say, I shall employ every care to +match my son according to his merits," Sir Austin returned. +"I trust the world is awakening, as you observe. +I have been to my publisher, since my arrival in town, +with a manuscript 'Proposal for a New System of Education +of our British Youth,' which may come in opportunely. +I think I am entitled to speak on that subject."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said the doctor. "You will admit, Sir +Austin, that, compared with continental nations—our +neighbours, for instance—we shine to advantage, in +morals, as in everything else. I hope you admit that?"</p> + +<p>"I find no consolation in shining by comparison with +a lower standard," said the baronet. "If I compare the +enlightenment of your views—for you admit my principle—with +the obstinate incredulity of a country doctor's, +who sees nothing of the world, you are hardly flattered, +I presume?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>Doctor Bairam would hardly be flattered at such a +comparison, assuredly, he interjected.</p> + +<p>"Besides," added the baronet, "the French make no +pretences, and thereby escape one of the main penalties +of hypocrisy. Whereas we!—but I am not their advocate, +credit me. It is better, perhaps, to pay our homage to +virtue. At least it delays the spread of entire corruptness."</p> + +<p>Doctor Bairam wished the baronet success, and diligently +endeavoured to assist his search for a mate worthy +of the pure-blood barb, by putting several mamas, whom +he visited, on the alert.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>A DIVERSION PLAYED ON A PENNY-WHISTLE</h3> + + +<p>Away with Systems! Away with a corrupt World! Let +us breathe the air of the Enchanted Island.</p> + +<p>Golden lie the meadows: golden run the streams; red +gold is on the pine-stems. The sun is coming down to +earth, and walks the fields and the waters.</p> + +<p>The sun is coming down to earth, and the fields and the +waters shout to him golden shouts. He comes, and his +heralds run before him, and touch the leaves of oaks and +planes and beeches lucid green, and the pine-stems redder +gold; leaving brightest footprints upon thickly-weeded +banks, where the foxglove's last upper-bells incline, and +bramble-shoots wander amid moist rich herbage. The +plumes of the woodland are alight; and beyond them, over +the open, 'tis a race with the long-thrown shadows; a race +across the heaths and up the hills, till, at the farthest +bourne of mounted eastern cloud, the heralds of the sun +lay rosy fingers and rest.</p> + +<p>Sweet are the shy recesses of the woodland. The ray +treads softly there. A film athwart the pathway quivers +many-hued against purple shade fragrant with warm +pines, deep moss-beds, feathery ferns. The little brown +squirrel drops tail, and leaps; the inmost bird is startled +to a chance tuneless note. From silence into silence things +move.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peeps of the revelling splendour above and around +enliven the conscious full heart within. The flaming +West, the crimson heights, shower their glories through +voluminous leafage. But these are bowers where deep +bliss dwells, imperial joy, that owes no fealty to yonder +glories, in which the young lamb gambols and the spirits +of men are glad. Descend, great Radiance! embrace +creation with beneficent fire, and pass from us! You and +the vice-regal light that succeeds to you, and all heavenly +pageants, are the ministers and the slaves of the throbbing +content within.</p> + +<p>For this is the home of the enchantment. Here, secluded +from vexed shores, the prince and princess of the +island meet: here like darkling nightingales they sit, and +into eyes and ears and hands pour endless ever-fresh +treasures of their souls.</p> + +<p>Roll on, grinding wheels of the world: cries of ships +going down in a calm, groans of a System which will not +know its rightful hour of exultation, complain to the +universe. You are not heard here.</p> + +<p>He calls her by her name, Lucy: and she, blushing at +her great boldness, has called him by his, Richard. Those +two names are the key-notes of the wonderful harmonies +the angels sing aloft.</p> + +<p>"Lucy! my beloved!"</p> + +<p>"O Richard!"</p> + +<p>Out in the world there, on the skirts of the woodland, +a sheep-boy pipes to meditative eye on a penny-whistle.</p> + +<p>Love's musical instrument is as old, and as poor: it has +but two stops; and yet, you see, the cunning musician does +thus much with it!</p> + +<p>Other speech they have little; light foam playing upon +waves of feeling, and of feeling compact, that bursts only +when the sweeping volume is too wild, and is no more +than their sigh of tenderness spoken.</p> + +<p>Perhaps love played his tune so well because their +natures had unblunted edges, and were keen for bliss, +confiding in it as natural food. To gentlemen and ladies +he fine-draws upon the viol, ravishingly; or blows into +the mellow bassoon; or rouses the heroic ardours of the +trumpet; or, it may be, commands the whole Orchestra<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +for them. And they are pleased. He is still the cunning +musician. They languish, and taste ecstasy: but it is, +however sonorous, an earthly concert. For them the +spheres move not to two notes. They have lost, or forfeited +and never known, the first supersensual spring of +the ripe senses into passion; when they carry the soul +with them, and have the privileges of spirits to walk disembodied, +boundlessly to feel. Or one has it, and the +other is a dead body. Ambrosia let them eat, and drink +the nectar: here sit a couple to whom Love's simple bread +and water is a finer feast.</p> + +<p>Pipe, happy sheep-boy, Love! Irradiated angels, unfold +your wings and lift your voices!</p> + +<p>They have outflown philosophy. Their instinct has shot +beyond the ken of science. They were made for their +Eden.</p> + +<p>"And this divine gift was in store for me!"</p> + +<p>So runs the internal outcry of each, clasping each: it +is their recurring refrain to the harmonies. How it +illumined the years gone by and suffused the living +Future!</p> + +<p>"You for me: I for you!"</p> + +<p>"We are born for each other!"</p> + +<p>They believe that the angels have been busy about them +from their cradles. The celestial hosts have worthily +striven to bring them together. And, O Victory! O +wonder! after toil and pain, and difficulties exceeding, the +celestial hosts have succeeded!</p> + +<p>"Here we two sit who are written above as one!"</p> + +<p>Pipe, happy Love! pipe on to these dear innocents!</p> + +<p>The tide of colour has ebbed from the upper sky. In +the West the sea of sunken fire draws back; and the +stars leap forth, and tremble, and retire before the advancing +moon, who slips the silver train of cloud from her +shoulders, and, with her foot upon the pine-tops, surveys +heaven.</p> + +<p>"Lucy, did you never dream of meeting me?"</p> + +<p>"O Richard! yes; for I remembered you."</p> + +<p>"Lucy! and did you pray that we might meet?"</p> + +<p>"I did!"</p> + +<p>Young as when she looked upon the lovers in Paradise, +the fair Immortal journeys onward. Fronting her, it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +not night but veiled day. Full half the sky is flushed. +Not darkness, not day, but the nuptials of the two.</p> + +<p>"My own! my own for ever! You are pledged to me? +Whisper!"</p> + +<p>He hears the delicious music.</p> + +<p>"And you are mine?"</p> + +<p>A soft beam travels to the fern-covert under the pine-wood +where they sit, and for answer he has her eyes: +turned to him an instant, timidly fluttering over the +depths of his, and then downcast; for through her eyes +her soul is naked to him.</p> + +<p>"Lucy! my bride! my life!"</p> + +<p>The night-jar spins his dark monotony on the branch of +the pine. The soft beam travels round them, and listens +to their hearts. Their lips are locked.</p> + +<p>Pipe no more, Love, for a time! Pipe as you will you +cannot express their first kiss; nothing of its sweetness, +and of the sacredness of it nothing. St. Cecilia up aloft, +before the silver organ-pipes of Paradise, pressing fingers +upon all the notes of which Love is but one, from her +you may hear it.</p> + +<p>So Love is silent. Out in the world there, on the skirts +of the woodland, the self-satisfied sheep-boy delivers a +last complacent squint down the length of his penny-whistle, +and, with a flourish correspondingly awry, he also +marches into silence, hailed by supper. The woods are +still. There is heard but the night-jar spinning on the +pine-branch, circled by moonlight.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>CELEBRATES THE TIME-HONOURED TREATMENT OF +A DRAGON BY THE HERO</h3> + + +<p>Enchanted Islands have not yet rooted out their old +brood of dragons. Wherever there is romance, these monsters +come by inimical attraction. Because the heavens +are certainly propitious to true lovers, the beasts of the +abysses are banded to destroy them, stimulated by innumerable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +sad victories; and every love-tale is an Epic War +of the upper and lower powers. I wish good fairies were +a little more active. They seem to be cajoled into security +by the happiness of their favourites; whereas the wicked +are always alert, and circumspect. They let the little ones +shut their eyes to fancy they are not seen, and then commence.</p> + +<p>These appointments and meetings, involving a start +from the dinner-table at the hour of contemplative digestion +and prime claret; the hour when the wise youth +Adrian delighted to talk at his ease—to recline in dreamy +consciousness that a work of good was going on inside +him; these abstractions from his studies, excesses of +gaiety, and glumness, heavings of the chest, and other odd +signs, but mainly the disgusting behaviour of his pupil +at the dinner-table, taught Adrian to understand, though +the young gentleman was clever in excuses, that he had +somehow learnt there was another half to the divided +Apple of Creation, and had embarked upon the great +voyage of discovery of the difference between the two +halves. With his usual coolness Adrian debated whether +he might be in the observatory or the practical stage of +the voyage. For himself, as a man and a philosopher, +Adrian had no objection to its being either; and he had +only to consider which was temporarily most threatening +to the ridiculous System he had to support. Richard's +absence annoyed him. The youth was vivacious, and his +enthusiasm good fun; and besides, when he left table, +Adrian had to sit alone with Hippias and the Eighteenth +Century, from both of whom he had extracted all the +amusement that could be got, and he saw his digestion +menaced by the society of two ruined stomachs, who bored +him just when he loved himself most. Poor Hippias was +now so reduced that he had profoundly to calculate +whether a particular dish, or an extra glass of wine, would +have a bitter effect on him and be felt through the remainder +of his years. He was in the habit of uttering +his calculations half aloud, wherein the prophetic doubts +of experience, and the succulent insinuations of appetite, +contended hotly. It was horrible to hear him, so let us +pardon Adrian for tempting him to a decision in favour +of the moment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Happy to take wine with you," Adrian would say, and +Hippias would regard the decanter with a pained forehead, +and put up the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Drink, nephew Hippy, and think of the doctor to-morrow!" +the Eighteenth Century cheerily ruffles her cap +at him, and recommends her own practice.</p> + +<p>"It's this literary work!" interjects Hippias, handling +his glass of remorse. "I don't know what else it can be. +You have no idea how anxious I feel. I have frightful +dreams. I'm perpetually anxious."</p> + +<p>"No wonder," says Adrian, who enjoys the childish +simplicity to which an absorbed study of his sensational +existence has brought poor Hippias. "No wonder. Ten +years of Fairy Mythology! Could any one hope to sleep +in peace after that? As to your digestion, no one has a +digestion who is in the doctor's hands. They prescribe +from dogmas, and don't count on the system. They have +cut down from two bottles to two glasses. It's absurd. +You can't sleep, because your system is crying out for +what it's accustomed to."</p> + +<p>Hippias sips his Madeira with a niggardly confidence, +but assures Adrian that he really should not like to +venture on a bottle now: it would be rank madness to +venture on a bottle now, he thinks. Last night only, after +partaking, under protest, of that rich French dish, or +was it the duck?—Adrian advised him to throw the blame +on that vulgar bird.—Say the duck, then. Last night, he +was no sooner stretched in bed, than he seemed to be of +an enormous size: all his limbs—his nose, his mouth, his +toes—were elephantine! An elephant was a pigmy to +him. And his hugeousness seemed to increase the instant +he shut his eyes. He turned on this side; he turned on +that. He lay on his back; he tried putting his face to the +pillow; and he continued to swell. He wondered the room +could hold him—he thought he must burst it—and absolutely +lit a candle, and went to the looking-glass to see +whether he was bearable.</p> + +<p>By this time Adrian and Richard were laughing uncontrollably. +He had, however, a genial auditor in the Eighteenth +Century, who declared it to be a new disease, not +known in her day, and deserving investigation. She was +happy to compare sensations with him, but hers were not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +of the complex order, and a potion soon righted her. In +fact, her system appeared to be a debatable ground for +aliment and medicine, on which the battle was fought, +and, when over, she was none the worse, as she joyfully +told Hippias. Never looked ploughman on prince, or +village belle on Court Beauty, with half the envy poor +Nineteenth-century Hippias expended in his gaze on the +Eighteenth. He was too serious to note much the laughter +of the young men.</p> + +<p>This "Tragedy of a Cooking-Apparatus," as Adrian designated +the malady of Hippias, was repeated regularly +every evening. It was natural for any youth to escape as +quick as he could from such a table of stomachs.</p> + +<p>Adrian bore with his conduct considerately, until a +letter from the baronet, describing the house and maternal +System of a Mrs. Caroline Grandison, and the rough +grain of hopefulness in her youngest daughter, spurred +him to think of his duties, and see what was going on. He +gave Richard half-an-hour's start, and then put on his +hat to follow his own keen scent, leaving Hippias and the +Eighteenth Century to piquet.</p> + +<p>In the lane near Belthorpe he met a maid of the farm +not unknown to him, one Molly Davenport by name, a +buxom lass, who, on seeing him, invoked her Good Gracious, +the generic maid's familiar, and was instructed by +reminiscences vivid, if ancient, to giggle.</p> + +<p>"Are you looking for your young gentleman?" Molly +presently asked.</p> + +<p>Adrian glanced about the lane like a cool brigand, to +see if the coast was clear, and replied to her, "I am, miss. +I want you to tell me about him."</p> + +<p>"Dear!" said the buxom lass, "was you coming for me +to-night to know?"</p> + +<p>Adrian rebuked her: for her bad grammar, apparently.</p> + +<p>"'Cause I can't stop out long to-night," Molly explained, +taking the rebuke to refer altogether to her bad +grammar.</p> + +<p>"You may go in when you please, miss. Is that any +one coming? Come here in the shade."</p> + +<p>"Now, get along!" said Miss Molly.</p> + +<p>Adrian spoke with resolution. "Listen to me, Molly +Davenport!" He put a coin in her hand, which had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +medical effect in calming her to attention. "I want to +know whether you have seen him at all?"</p> + +<p>"Who? Your young gentleman? I sh'd think I did. +I seen him to-night only. Ain't he growed handsome. +He's al'ays about Beltharp now. It ain't to fire no more +ricks. He's afire 'unself. Ain't you seen 'em together? +He's after the missis"——</p> + +<p>Adrian requested Miss Davenport to be respectful, and +confine herself to particulars. This buxom lass then told +him that her young missis and Adrian's young gentleman +were a pretty couple, and met one another every night. +The girl swore for their innocence.</p> + +<p>"As for Miss Lucy, she haven't a bit of art in her, nor +have he."</p> + +<p>"They're all nature, I suppose," said Adrian. "How +is it I don't see her at church?"</p> + +<p>"She's Catholic, or somethink," said Molly. "Her +feyther was, and a leftenant. She've a Cross in her bedroom. +She don't go to church. I see you there last +Sunday a-lookin' so solemn," and Molly stroked her hand +down her chin to give it length.</p> + +<p>Adrian insisted on her keeping to facts. It was dark, +and in the dark he was indifferent to the striking contrasts +suggested by the lass, but he wanted to hear facts, +and he again bribed her to impart nothing but facts. +Upon which she told him further, that her young lady +was an innocent artless creature who had been to school +upwards of three years with the nuns, and had a little +money of her own, and was beautiful enough to be a lord's +lady, and had been in love with Master Richard ever since +she was a little girl. Molly had got from a friend of hers +up at the Abbey, Mary Garner, the housemaid who +cleaned Master Richard's room, a bit of paper once with +the young gentleman's handwriting, and had given it to +her Miss Lucy, and Miss Lucy had given her a gold +sovereign for it—just for his handwriting! Miss Lucy +did not seem happy at the farm, because of that young +Tom, who was always leering at her, and to be sure she +was quite a lady, and could play, and sing, and dress with +the best.</p> + +<p>"She looks like angels in her nightgown!" Molly wound +up.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>The next moment she ran up close, and speaking for the +first time as if there were a distinction of position between +them, petitioned: "Mr. Harley! you won't go for doin' +any harm to 'em 'cause of what I said, will you now? +Do say you won't now, Mr. Harley! She is good, though +she's a Catholic. She was kind to me when I was ill, and +I wouldn't have her crossed—I'd rather be showed up myself, +I would!"</p> + +<p>The wise youth gave no positive promise to Molly, and +she had to read his consent in a relaxation of his austerity. +The noise of a lumbering foot plodding down the lane +caused her to be abruptly dismissed. Molly took to flight, +the lumbering foot accelerated its pace, and the pastoral +appeal to her flying skirts was heard—"Moll! yau theyre! +It be I—Bantam!" But the sprightly Silvia would not +stop to his wooing, and Adrian turned away laughing at +these Arcadians.</p> + +<p>Adrian was a lazy dragon. All he did for the present +was to hint and tease. "It's the Inevitable!" he said, and +asked himself why he should seek to arrest it. He had no +faith in the System. Heavy Benson had. Benson of the +slow thick-lidded antediluvian eye and loose-crumpled +skin; Benson, the Saurian, the woman-hater; Benson was +wide awake. A sort of rivalry existed between the wise +youth and heavy Benson. The fidelity of the latter dependant +had moved the baronet to commit to him a portion +of the management of the Raynham estate, and this +Adrian did not like. No one who aspires to the honourable +office of leading another by the nose can tolerate +a party in his ambition. Benson's surly instinct told him +he was in the wise youth's way, and he resolved to give +his master a striking proof of his superior faithfulness. +For some weeks the Saurian eye had been on the two +secret creatures. Heavy Benson saw letters come and +go in the day, and now the young gentleman was off and +out every night, and seemed to be on wings. Benson +knew whither he went, and the object he went for. It +was a woman—that was enough. The Saurian eye had +actually seen the sinful thing lure the hope of Raynham +into the shades. He composed several epistles of warning +to the baronet of the work that was going on; but before +sending one he wished to record a little of their guilty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +conversation; and for this purpose the faithful fellow +trotted over the dews to eavesdrop, and thereby aroused +the good fairy, in the person of Tom Bakewell, the sole +confidant of Richard's state.</p> + +<p>Tom said to his young master, "Do you know what, +sir? You be watched!"</p> + +<p>Richard, in a fury, bade him name the wretch, and Tom +hung his arms, and aped the respectable protrusion of the +butler's head.</p> + +<p>"It's he, is it?" cried Richard. "He shall rue it, Tom. +If I find him near me when we're together he shall never +forget it."</p> + +<p>"Don't hit too hard, sir," Tom suggested. "You hit +mortal hard when you're in earnest, you know."</p> + +<p>Richard averred he would forgive anything but that, +and told Tom to be within hail to-morrow night—he +knew where. By the hour of the appointment it was out +of the lover's mind.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish dined that evening at Raynham, by +Adrian's pointed invitation. According to custom, Richard +started up and off, with few excuses. The lady exhibited +no surprise. She and Adrian likewise strolled +forth to enjoy the air of the Summer night. They had +no intention of spying. Still they may have thought, by +meeting Richard and his inamorata, there was a chance +of laying a foundation of ridicule to sap the passion. +They may have thought so—they were on no spoken understanding.</p> + +<p>"I have seen the little girl," said Lady Blandish. "She +is pretty—she would be telling if she were well set up. +She speaks well. How absurd it is of that class to educate +their women above their station! The child is really too +good for a farmer. I noticed her before I knew of this; +she has enviable hair. I suppose she doesn't paint her +eyelids. Just the sort of person to take a young man. I +thought there was something wrong. I received, the day +before yesterday, an impassioned poem evidently not intended +for me. My hair was gold. My meeting him was +foretold. My eyes were homes of light fringed with +night. I sent it back, correcting the colours."</p> + +<p>"Which was death to the rhymes," said Adrian. "I saw +her this morning. The boy hasn't bad taste. As you say,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +she is too good for a farmer. Such a spark would explode +any System. She slightly affected mine. The Huron is +stark mad about her."</p> + +<p>"But we must positively write and tell his father," said +Lady Blandish.</p> + +<p>The wise youth did not see why they should exaggerate +a trifle. The lady said she would have an interview with +Richard, and then write, as it was her duty to do. Adrian +shrugged, and was for going into the scientific explanation +of Richard's conduct, in which the lady had to discourage +him.</p> + +<p>"Poor boy!" she sighed. "I am really sorry for him. I +hope he will not feel it too strongly. They feel strongly, +father and son."</p> + +<p>"And select wisely," Adrian added.</p> + +<p>"That's another thing," said Lady Blandish.</p> + +<p>Their talk was then of the dulness of neighbouring +county people, about whom, it seemed, there was little or +no scandal afloat: of the lady's loss of the season in town, +which she professed not to regret, though she complained +of her general weariness: of whether Mr. Morton of Poer +Hall would propose to Mrs. Doria, and of the probable +despair of the hapless curate of Lobourne; and other +gossip, partly in French.</p> + +<p>They rounded the lake, and got upon the road through +the park to Lobourne. The moon had risen. The atmosphere +was warm and pleasant.</p> + +<p>"Quite a lover's night," said Lady Blandish.</p> + +<p>"And I, who have none to love—pity me!" The wise +youth attempted a sigh.</p> + +<p>"And never will have," said Lady Blandish, curtly. +"You <i>buy</i> your loves."</p> + +<p>Adrian protested. However, he did not plead verbally +against the impeachment, though the lady's decisive insight +astonished him. He began to respect her, relishing +her exquisite contempt, and he reflected that widows could +be terrible creatures.</p> + +<p>He had hoped to be a little sentimental with Lady +Blandish, knowing her romantic. This mixture of the +harshest common sense and an air of "<i>I</i> know you men," +with romance and refined temperament, subdued the wise +youth more than a positive accusation supported by witnesses +would have done. He looked at the lady. Her face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +was raised to the moon. She knew nothing—she had +simply spoken from the fulness of her human knowledge, +and had forgotten her words. Perhaps, after all, her +admiration, or whatever feeling it was, for the baronet, +was sincere, and really the longing for a virtuous man. +Perhaps she had tried the opposite set pretty much. +Adrian shrugged. Whenever the wise youth encountered +a mental difficulty he instinctively lifted his shoulders to +equal altitudes, to show that he had no doubt there was a +balance in the case—plenty to be said on both sides, which +was the same to him as a definite solution.</p> + +<p>At their tryst in the wood, abutting on Raynham Park, +wrapped in themselves, piped to by tireless Love, Richard +and Lucy sat, toying with eternal moments. How they +seem as if they would never end! What mere sparks they +are when they have died out! And how in the distance +of time they revive, and extend, and glow, and make us +think them full the half, and the best of the fire, of our +lives!</p> + +<p>With the onward flow of intimacy, the two happy lovers +ceased to be so shy of common themes, and their speech +did not reject all as dross that was not pure gold of emotion.</p> + +<p>Lucy was very inquisitive about everything and everybody +at Raynham. Whoever had been about Richard since +his birth, she must know the history of, and he for a kiss +will do her bidding.</p> + +<p>Thus goes the tender duet:</p> + +<p>"You should know my cousin Austin, Lucy.—Darling! +Beloved!"</p> + +<p>"My own! Richard!"</p> + +<p>"You should know my cousin Austin. You shall know +him. He would take to you best of them all, and you to +him. He is in the tropics now, looking out a place—it's +a secret—for poor English working-men to emigrate to +and found a colony in that part of the world:—my white +angel!"</p> + +<p>"Dear love!"</p> + +<p>"He is such a noble fellow! Nobody here understands +him but me. Isn't it strange? Since I met you I love +him better! That's because I love all that's good and +noble better now—Beautiful! I love—I love you!"</p> + +<p>"My Richard!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you think I've determined, Lucy? If my +father——but no! my father does love me.—No! he will +not; and we will be happy together here. And I will win +my way with you. And whatever I win will be yours; +for it will be owing to you. I feel as if I had no strength +but yours—none! and you make me—O Lucy!"</p> + +<p>His voice ebbs. Presently Lucy murmurs—</p> + +<p>"Your father, Richard."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my father?"</p> + +<p>"Dearest Richard! I feel so afraid of him."</p> + +<p>"He loves me, and will love you, Lucy."</p> + +<p>"But I am so poor and humble, Richard."</p> + +<p>"No one I have ever seen is like you, Lucy."</p> + +<p>"You think so, because you"——</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Love me," comes the blushing whisper, and the duet +gives place to dumb variations, performed equally in concert.</p> + +<p>It is resumed.</p> + +<p>"You are fond of the knights, Lucy. Austin is as brave +as any of them.—My own bride! Oh, how I adore you! +When you are gone, I could fall upon the grass you tread +upon, and kiss it. My breast feels empty of my heart—Lucy! +if we lived in those days, I should have been a +knight, and have won honour and glory for you. Oh! +one can do nothing now. My lady-love! My lady-love!—A +tear?—Lucy?"</p> + +<p>"Dearest! Ah, Richard! I am not a lady."</p> + +<p>"Who dares say that? Not a lady—the angel I love!"</p> + +<p>"Think, Richard, who I am."</p> + +<p>"My beautiful! I think that God made you, and has +given you to me."</p> + +<p>Her eyes fill with tears, and, as she lifts them heavenward +to thank her God, the light of heaven strikes on +them, and she is so radiant in her pure beauty that the +limbs of the young man tremble.</p> + +<p>"Lucy! O heavenly spirit! Lucy!"</p> + +<p>Tenderly her lips part—"I do not weep for sorrow."</p> + +<p>The big bright drops lighten, and roll down, imaged in +his soul.</p> + +<p>They lean together—shadows of ineffable tenderness +playing on their thrilled cheeks and brows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>He lifts her hand, and presses his mouth to it. She has +seen little of mankind, but her soul tells her this one is +different from others, and at the thought, in her great +joy, tears must come fast, or her heart will break—tears +of boundless thanksgiving. And he, gazing on those soft, +ray-illumined, dark-edged eyes, and the grace of her loose +falling tresses, feels a scarce-sufferable holy fire streaming +through his members.</p> + +<p>It is long ere they speak in open tones.</p> + +<p>"O happy day when we met!"</p> + +<p>What says the voice of one, the soul of the other echoes.</p> + +<p>"O glorious heaven looking down on us!"</p> + +<p>Their souls are joined, are made one for evermore beneath +that bending benediction.</p> + +<p>"O eternity of bliss!"</p> + +<p>Then the diviner mood passes, and they drop to earth.</p> + +<p>"Lucy! come with me to-night, and look at the place +where you are some day to live. Come, and I will row +you on the lake. You remember what you said in your +letter that you dreamt?—that we were floating over the +shadow of the Abbey to the nuns at work by torchlight +felling the cypress, and they handed us each a sprig. Why, +darling, it was the best omen in the world, their felling +the old trees. And you write such lovely letters. So pure +and sweet they are. I love the nuns for having taught +you."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Richard! See! we forget! Ah!" she lifts up her +face pleadingly, as to plead against herself, "even if your +father forgives my birth, he will not my religion. And, +dearest, though I would die for you I cannot change it. It +would seem that I was denying God; and—oh! it would +make me ashamed of my love."</p> + +<p>"Fear nothing!" He winds her about with his arm. +"Come! He will love us both, and love you the more for +being faithful to your father's creed. You don't know +him, Lucy. He seems harsh and stern—he is full of +kindness and love. He isn't at all a bigot. And besides, +when he hears what the nuns have done for you, won't +he thank them, as I do? And—oh! I must speak to him +soon, and you must be prepared to see him soon, for I +cannot bear your remaining at Belthorpe, like a jewel in +a sty. Mind! I'm not saying a word against your uncle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +I declare I love everybody and everything that sees you +and touches you. Stay! it <i>is</i> a wonder how you could +have grown there. But you were not born there, and +your father had good blood. Desborough!—there was a +Colonel Desborough—never mind! Come!"</p> + +<p>She dreads to. She begs not to. She is drawn away.</p> + +<p>The woods are silent, and then—</p> + +<p>"What think you of that for a pretty pastoral?" says a +very different voice.</p> + +<p>Adrian reclined against a pine overlooking the fern-covert. +Lady Blandish was recumbent upon the brown +pine-droppings, gazing through a vista of the lower greenwood +which opened out upon the moon-lighted valley, her +hands clasped round one knee, her features almost stern +in their set hard expression.</p> + +<p>They had heard, by involuntarily overhearing about as +much as may be heard in such positions, a luminous word +or two.</p> + +<p>The lady did not answer. A movement among the ferns +attracted Adrian, and he stepped down the decline across +the pine-roots to behold heavy Benson below, shaking fern-seed +and spidery substances off his crumpled skin.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Mr. Hadrian?" called Benson, starting, +as he puffed, and exercised his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Is it <i>you</i>, Benson, who have had the audacity to spy +upon these Mysteries?" Adrian called back, and coming +close to him, added, "You look as if you had just been +well thrashed."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it dreadful, sir?" snuffled Benson. "And his +father in ignorance, Mr. Hadrian!"</p> + +<p>"He shall know, Benson! He shall know how you have +endangered your valuable skin in his service. If Mr. Richard +had found you there just now I wouldn't answer for +the consequences."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" Benson spitefully retorted. "This won't go on, +Mr. Hadrian. It shan't, sir. It will be put a stop to +to-morrow, sir. I call it corruption of a young gentleman +like him, and harlotry, sir, I call it. I'd have every jade +flogged that made a young innocent gentleman go on +like that, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then why didn't you stop it yourself, Benson? Ah, I +see! you waited—what? This is not the first time you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +have been attendant on Apollo and Miss Dryope? You +have written to headquarters?"</p> + +<p>"I did my duty, Mr. Hadrian."</p> + +<p>The wise youth returned to Lady Blandish, and informed +her of Benson's zeal. The lady's eyes flashed. +"I hope Richard will treat him as he deserves," she said.</p> + +<p>"Shall we home?" Adrian inquired.</p> + +<p>"Do me a favour," the lady replied. "Get my carriage +sent round to meet me at the park-gates."</p> + +<p>"Won't you?"—</p> + +<p>"I want to be alone."</p> + +<p>Adrian bowed and left her. She was still sitting with +her hands clasped round one knee, gazing towards the dim +ray-strewn valley.</p> + +<p>"An odd creature!" muttered the wise youth. "She's +as odd as any of them. She ought to be a Feverel. I +suppose she's graduating for it. Hang that confounded +old ass of a Benson! He has had the impudence to steal +a march on me!"</p> + +<p>The shadow of the cypress was lessening on the lake. +The moon was climbing high. As Richard rowed the boat, +Lucy sang to him softly. She sang first a fresh little +French song, reminding him of a day when she had been +asked to sing to him before, and he did not care to hear. +"Did I live?" he thinks. Then she sang to him a bit of +one of those majestic old Gregorian chants, that, wherever +you may hear them, seem to build up cathedral walls about +you. The young man dropped the sculls. The strange +solemn notes gave a religious tone to his love, and wafted +him into the knightly ages and the reverential heart of +chivalry.</p> + +<p>Hanging between two heavens on the lake: floating to +her voice: the moon stepping over and through white +shoals of soft high clouds above and below: floating to her +voice—no other breath abroad! His soul went out of his +body as he listened.</p> + +<p>They must part. He rows her gently shoreward.</p> + +<p>"I never was so happy as to-night," she murmurs.</p> + +<p>"Look, my Lucy. The lights of the old place are on +the lake. Look where you are to live."</p> + +<p>"Which is your room, Richard?"</p> + +<p>He points it out to her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O Richard! that I were one of the women who wait on +you! I should ask nothing more. How happy she must +be!"</p> + +<p>"My darling angel-love. You shall be happy; but all +shall wait on you, and I foremost, Lucy."</p> + +<p>"Dearest! may I hope for a letter?"</p> + +<p>"By eleven to-morrow. And I?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! you will have mine, Richard."</p> + +<p>"Tom shall wait for it. A long one, mind! Did you +like my last song?"</p> + +<p>She puts her hand quietly against her bosom, and he +knows where it rests. O love! O heaven!</p> + +<p>They are aroused by the harsh grating of the bow of +the boat against the shingle. He jumps out, and lifts her +ashore.</p> + +<p>"See!" she says, as the blush of his embrace subsides—"See!" +and prettily she mimics awe and feels it a little, +"the cypress does point towards us. O Richard! it does!"</p> + +<p>And he, looking at her rather than at the cypress, delighting +in her arch grave ways—</p> + +<p>"Why, there's hardly any shadow at all, Lucy. She +mustn't dream, my darling! or dream only of me."</p> + +<p>"Dearest! but I do."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, Lucy! The letter in the morning, and +you at night. O happy to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"You will be sure to be there, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"If I am not dead, Lucy."</p> + +<p>"O Richard! pray, pray do not speak of that. I shall +not survive you."</p> + +<p>"Let us pray, Lucy, to die together, when we are to die. +Death or life, with you! Who is it yonder? I see some +one—is it Tom? It's Adrian!"</p> + +<p>"Is it Mr. Harley?" The fair girl shivered.</p> + +<p>"How dares he come here!" cried Richard.</p> + +<p>The figure of Adrian, instead of advancing, discreetly +circled the lake. They were stealing away when he called. +His call was repeated. Lucy entreated Richard to go to +him; but the young man preferred to summon his attendant, +Tom, from within hail, and send him to know what +was wanted.</p> + +<p>"Will he have seen me? Will he have known me?" +whispered Lucy, tremulously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And if he does, love?" said Richard.</p> + +<p>"Oh! if he does, dearest—I don't know, but I feel such +a presentiment. You have not spoken of him to-night, +Richard. Is he good?"</p> + +<p>"Good?" Richard clutched her hand for the innocent +maiden phrase. "He's very fond of eating; that's all I +know of Adrian."</p> + +<p>Her hand was at his lips when Tom returned.</p> + +<p>"Well, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Adrian wishes particular to speak to you, sir," +said Tom.</p> + +<p>"Do go to him, dearest! Do go!" Lucy begs him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I hate Adrian!" The young man grinds his +teeth.</p> + +<p>"Do go!" Lucy urges him. "Tom—good Tom—will +see me home. To-morrow, dear love! To-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"You wish to part from me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, unkind! but you must not come with me now. It +may be news of importance, dearest. Think, Richard!"</p> + +<p>"Tom! go back!"</p> + +<p>At the imperious command the well-drilled Tom +strides off a dozen paces, and sees nothing. Than the +precious charge is confided to him. A heart is cut in +twain.</p> + +<p>Richard made his way to Adrian. "What is it you want +with me, Adrian?"</p> + +<p>"Are we seconds, or principals, O fiery one?" was +Adrian's answer. "I want nothing with you, except to +know whether you have seen Benson."</p> + +<p>"Where should I see Benson? What do I know of Benson's +doings?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not—such a secret old fist as he is! I want +some one to tell him to order Lady Blandish's carriage to +be sent round to the park-gates. I thought he might be +round your way over there—I came upon him accidentally +just now in Abbey-wood. What's the matter, boy?"</p> + +<p>"You saw him <i>there</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Hunting Diana, I suppose. He thinks she's not so +chaste as they say," continued Adrian. "Are you going +to knock down that tree?"</p> + +<p>Richard had turned to the cypress, and was tugging at +the tough wood. He left it and went to an ash.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'll spoil that weeper," Adrian cried. "Down she +comes! But good-night, Ricky. If you see Benson mind +you tell him."</p> + +<p>Doomed Benson following his burly shadow hove in +sight on the white road while Adrian spoke. The wise +youth chuckled and strolled round the lake, glancing over +his shoulder every now and then.</p> + +<p>It was not long before he heard a bellow for help—the +roar of a dragon in his throes. Adrian placidly sat down +on the grass, and fixed his eyes on the water. There, as +the roar was being repeated amid horrid resounding +echoes, the wise youth mused in this wise—</p> + +<p>"'The Fates are Jews with us when they delay a punishment,' +says <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>, or words to that effect. +The heavens evidently love Benson, seeing that he gets +his punishment on the spot. Master Ricky is a peppery +young man. He gets it from the apt Gruffudh. I rather +believe in race. What a noise that old ruffian makes! +He'll require poulticing with <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>. We +shall have a message to-morrow, and a hubbub, and perhaps +all go to town, which won't be bad for one who's +been a prey to all the desires born of dulness. Benson +howls: there's life in the old dog yet! He bays the moon. +Look at her. She doesn't care. It's the same to her +whether we coo like turtle-doves or roar like twenty lions. +How complacent she looks! And yet she has just as much +sympathy for Benson as for Cupid. She would smile on +if both were being birched. Was that a raven or Benson? +He howls no more. It sounds guttural: frog-like—something +between the brek-kek-kek and the hoarse raven's +croak. The fellow'll be killing him. It's time to go to +the rescue. A deliverer gets more honour by coming in +at the last gasp than if he forestalled catastrophe.—Ho, +there, what's the matter?"</p> + +<p>So saying, the wise youth rose, and leisurely trotted to +the scene of battle, where stood St. George puffing over +the prostrate Dragon.</p> + +<p>"Holloa, Ricky! is it you?" said Adrian. "What's +this? Whom have we here?—Benson, as I live!"</p> + +<p>"Make this beast get up," Richard returned, breathing +hard, and shaking his great ash-branch.</p> + +<p>"He seems incapable, my dear boy. What have you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +been up to?—Benson! Benson!—I say, Ricky, this looks +bad."</p> + +<p>"He's shamming!" Richard clamoured like a savage. +"Spy upon me, will he? I tell you, he's shamming. He +hasn't had half enough. Nothing's too bad for a spy. +Let him get up!"</p> + +<p>"Insatiated youth! do throw away that enormous +weapon."</p> + +<p>"He has written to my father," Richard shouted. "The +miserable spy! Let him get up!"</p> + +<p>"Ooogh! I won't!" huskily groaned Benson. "Mr. +Hadrian, you're a witness he's—my back!"—— Cavernous +noises took up the tale of his maltreatment.</p> + +<p>"I daresay you love your back better than any part of +your body now," Adrian muttered. "Come, Benson! be a +man. Mr. Richard has thrown away the stick. Come, and +get off home, and let's see the extent of the damage."</p> + +<p>"Ooogh! he's a devil! Mr. Hadrian, sir, he's a devil!" +groaned Benson, turning half over in the road to ease his +aches.</p> + +<p>Adrian caught hold of Benson's collar and lifted him +to a sitting posture. He then had a glimpse of what his +hopeful pupil's hand could do in wrath. The wretched +butler's coat was slit and welted; his hat knocked in; his +flabby spirit so broken that he started and trembled if his +pitiless executioner stirred a foot. Richard stood over +him, grasping his great stick; no dawn of mercy for +Benson in any corner of his features.</p> + +<p>Benson screwed his neck round to look up at him, and +immediately gasped, "I won't get up! I won't! He's +ready to murder me again!—Mr. Hadrian! if you stand +by and see it, you're liable to the law, sir—I won't get up +while he's near." No persuasion could induce Benson to +try his legs while his executioner stood by.</p> + +<p>Adrian took Richard aside: "You've almost killed the +poor devil, Ricky. You must be satisfied with that. Look +at his face."</p> + +<p>"The coward bobbed while I struck," said Richard. "I +marked his back. He ducked. I told him he was getting +it worse."</p> + +<p>At so civilized piece of savagery, Adrian opened his +mouth wide.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you really? I admire that. You told him he was +getting it worse?"</p> + +<p>Adrian opened his mouth again to shake another roll +of laughter out.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, "Excalibur has done his work. Pitch +him into the lake. And see—here comes the Blandish. +You can't be at it again before a woman. Go and meet +her, and tell her the noise was an ox being slaughtered. +Or say Argus."</p> + +<p>With a whirr that made all Benson's bruises moan and +quiver, the great ash-branch shot aloft, and Richard +swung off to intercept Lady Blandish.</p> + +<p>Adrian got Benson on his feet. The heavy butler was +disposed to summon all the commiseration he could feel +for his bruised flesh. Every half-step he attempted was +like a dislocation. His groans and grunts were frightful.</p> + +<p>"How much did that hat cost, Benson?" said Adrian, +as he put it on his head.</p> + +<p>"A five-and-twenty shilling beaver, Mr. Hadrian!" +Benson caressed its injuries.</p> + +<p>"The cheapest policy of insurance I remember to have +heard of!" said Adrian.</p> + +<p>Benson staggered, moaning at intervals to his cruel +comforter—</p> + +<p>"He's a devil, Mr. Hadrian! He's a devil, sir, I do +believe, sir. Ooogh! he's a devil!—I can't move, Mr. +Hadrian. I must be fetched. And Dr. Clifford must be +sent for, sir. I shall never be fit for work again. I +haven't a sound bone in my body, Mr. Hadrian."</p> + +<p>"You see, Benson, this comes of your declaring war +upon Venus. I hope the maids will nurse you properly. +Let me see: you are friends with the housekeeper, aren't +you? All depends upon that."</p> + +<p>"I'm only a faithful servant, Mr. Hadrian," the miserable +butler snarled.</p> + +<p>"Then you've got no friend but your bed. Get to it as +quick as possible, Benson."</p> + +<p>"I can't move." Benson made a resolute halt. "I must +be fetched," he whinnied. "It's a shame to ask me to +move, Mr. Hadrian."</p> + +<p>"You will admit that you are heavy, Benson," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +Adrian, "so I can't carry you. However, I see Mr. Richard +is very kindly returning to help me."</p> + +<p>At these words heavy Benson instantly found his legs, +and shambled on.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish met Richard in dismay.</p> + +<p>"I have been horribly frightened," she said. "Tell me, +what was the meaning of those cries I heard?"</p> + +<p>"Only some one doing justice on a spy," said Richard, +and the lady smiled, and looked on him fondly, and put +her hand through his hair.</p> + +<p>"Was that all? I should have done it myself if I had +been a man. Kiss me."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>RICHARD IS SUMMONED TO TOWN TO HEAR +A SERMON</h3> + + +<p>By twelve o'clock at noon next day the inhabitants of +Raynham Abbey knew that Berry, the baronet's man, had +arrived post-haste from town, with orders to conduct Mr. +Richard thither, and that Mr. Richard had refused to go, +had sworn he would not, defied his father, and despatched +Berry to the Shades. Berry was all that Benson was not. +Whereas Benson hated woman, Berry admired her warmly. +Second to his own stately person, woman occupied his +reflections, and commanded his homage. Berry was of +majestic port, and used dictionary words. Among the +maids of Raynham his conscious calves produced all the +discord and the frenzy those adornments seem destined to +create in tender bosoms. He had, moreover, the reputation +of having suffered for the sex; which assisted his +object in inducing the sex to suffer for him. What with +his calves, and his dictionary words, and the attractive +halo of the mysterious vindictiveness of Venus surrounding +him, this Adonis of the lower household was a mighty +man below, and he moved as one.</p> + +<p>On hearing the tumult that followed Berry's arrival, +Adrian sent for him, and was informed of the nature of +his mission, and its result.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You should come to me first," said Adrian. "I should +have imagined you were shrewd enough for that, Berry?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Mr. Adrian," Berry doubled his elbow to +explain. "Pardon me, sir. Acting recipient of special +injunctions I was not a free agent."</p> + +<p>"Go to Mr. Richard again, Berry. There will be a little +confusion if he holds back. Perhaps you had better throw +out a hint or so of apoplexy. A slight hint will do. And +here—Berry! when you return to town, you had better not +mention anything—to quote Johnson—of Benson's spiflication."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, sir."</p> + +<p>The wise youth's hint had the desired effect on Richard.</p> + +<p>He dashed off a hasty letter by Tom to Belthorpe, and, +mounting his horse, galloped to the Bellingham station.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin was sitting down to a quiet early dinner at +his hotel, when the Hope of Raynham burst into his room.</p> + +<p>The baronet was not angry with his son. On the contrary, +for he was singularly just and self-accusing while +pride was not up in arms, he had been thinking all day +after the receipt of Benson's letter that he was deficient in +cordiality, and did not, by reason of his excessive anxiety, +make himself sufficiently his son's companion: was not +enough, as he strove to be, mother and father to him; preceptor +and friend; previsor and associate. He had not to +ask his conscience where he had lately been to blame towards +the System. He had slunk away from Raynham in +the very crisis of the Magnetic Age, and this young woman +of the parish (as Benson had termed sweet Lucy in his +letter) was the consequence.</p> + +<p>Yes! pride and sensitiveness were his chief foes, and +he would trample on them. To begin, he embraced his +son: hard upon an Englishman at any time—doubly so +to one so shamefaced at emotion in cool blood, as it were. +It gave him a strange pleasure, nevertheless. And the +youth seemed to answer to it; he was excited. Was his +love, then, beginning to correspond with his father's as +in those intimate days before the Blossoming Season?</p> + +<p>But when Richard, inarticulate at first in his haste, +cried out, "My dear, dear father! You are safe! I feared——You +are better, sir? Thank God!" Sir Austin stood +away from him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Safe?" he said. "What has alarmed you?"</p> + +<p>Instead of replying, Richard dropped into a chair, and +seized his hand and kissed it.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin took a seat, and waited for his son to explain.</p> + +<p>"Those doctors are such fools!" Richard broke out. "I +was sure they were wrong. They don't know headache +from apoplexy. It's worth the ride, sir, to see you. You +left Raynham so suddenly.—But you are well! It was not +an attack of real apoplexy?"</p> + +<p>His father's brows contorted, and he said, No, it was +not. Richard pursued:</p> + +<p>"If you were ill, I couldn't come too soon, though, if +coroners' inquests sat on horses, those doctors would be +found guilty of mare-slaughter. Cassandra'll be knocked +up. I was too early for the train at Bellingham, and I +wouldn't wait. She did the distance in four hours and +three-quarters. Pretty good, sir, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It has given you appetite for dinner, I hope," said the +baronet, not so well pleased to find that it was not +simple obedience that had brought the youth to him in +such haste.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready," replied Richard. "I shall be in time to +return by the last train to-night. I will leave Cassandra +in your charge for a rest."</p> + +<p>His father quietly helped him to soup, which he commenced +gobbling with an eagerness that might pass for +appetite.</p> + +<p>"All well at Raynham?" said the baronet.</p> + +<p>"Quite, sir."</p> + +<p>"Nothing new?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, sir."</p> + +<p>"The same as when I left?"</p> + +<p>"No change whatever!"</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to get back to the old place," said the +baronet. "My stay in town has certainly been profitable. +I have made some pleasant acquaintances who may probably +favour us with a visit there in the late autumn—people +you may be pleased to know. They are very anxious +to see Raynham."</p> + +<p>"I love the old place," cried Richard. "I never wish to +leave it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, boy, before I left you were constantly begging to +see town."</p> + +<p>"Was I, sir? How odd! Well! I don't want to remain +here. I've seen enough of it."</p> + +<p>"How did you find your way to me?"</p> + +<p>Richard laughed, and related his bewilderment at the +miles of brick, and the noise, and the troops of people, +concluding, "There's no place like home!"</p> + +<p>The baronet watched his symptomatic brilliant eyes, +and favoured him with a double-dealing sentence—</p> + +<p>"To anchor the heart by any object ere we have half +traversed the world, is youth's foolishness, my son. Reverence +time! A better maxim that than your Horatian."</p> + +<p>"He knows all!" thought Richard, and instantly drew +away leagues from his father, and threw up fortifications +round his love and himself.</p> + +<p>Dinner over, Richard looked hurriedly at his watch, +and said, with much briskness, "I shall just be in time, +sir, if we walk. Will you come with me to the station?"</p> + +<p>The baronet did not answer.</p> + +<p>Richard was going to repeat the question, but found his +father's eyes fixed on him so meaningly that he wavered, +and played with his empty glass.</p> + +<p>"I think we will have a little more claret," said the +baronet.</p> + +<p>Claret was brought, and they were left alone.</p> + +<p>The baronet then drew within arm's-reach of his son, +and began:</p> + +<p>"I am not aware what you may have thought of me, +Richard, during the years we have lived together; and +indeed I have never been in a hurry to be known to you; +and, if I had died before my work was done, I should not +have complained at losing half my reward, in hearing you +thank me. Perhaps, as it is, I never may. Everything, +save selfishness, has its recompense. I shall be content if +you prosper."</p> + +<p>He fetched a breath and continued: "You had in your +infancy a great loss." Father and son coloured simultaneously. +"To make that good to you I chose to isolate +myself from the world, and devote myself entirely to your +welfare; and I think it is not vanity that tells me now +that the son I have reared is one of the most hopeful of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +God's creatures. But for that very reason you are open +to be tempted the most, and to sink the deepest. It was +the first of the angels who made the road to hell."</p> + +<p>He paused again. Richard fingered at his watch.</p> + +<p>"In our House, my son, there is peculiar blood. We go +to wreck very easily. It sounds like superstition; I cannot +but think we are tried as most men are not. I see it in us +all. And you, my son, are compounded of two races. +Your passions are violent. You have had a taste of +revenge. You have seen, in a small way, that the pound +of flesh draws rivers of blood. But there is now in you +another power. You are mounting to the table-land of +life, where mimic battles are changed to real ones. And +you come upon it laden equally with force to create and +to destroy." He deliberated to announce the intelligence, +with deep meaning: "There are women in the world, my +son!"</p> + +<p>The young man's heart galloped back to Raynham.</p> + +<p>"It is when you encounter them that you are thoroughly +on trial. It is when you know them that life is either a +mockery to you, or, as some find it, a gift of blessedness. +They are our ordeal. Love of any human object is the +soul's ordeal; and they are ours, loving them, or not."</p> + +<p>The young man heard the whistle of the train. He +saw the moon-lighted wood, and the vision of his beloved. +He could barely hold himself down and listen.</p> + +<p>"I believe," the baronet spoke with little of the cheerfulness +of belief, "good women exist."</p> + +<p>Oh, if he knew Lucy!</p> + +<p>"But," and he gazed on Richard intently, "it is given +to very few to meet them on the threshold—I may say, to +none. We find them after hard buffeting, and usually, +when we find the one fitted for us, our madness has misshaped +our destiny, our lot is cast. For women are not the +end, but the means, of life. In youth we think them the +former, and thousands, who have not even the excuse of +youth, select a mate—or worse—with that sole view. I +believe women punish us for so perverting their uses. +They punish Society."</p> + +<p>The baronet put his hand to his brow as his mind +travelled into consequences.</p> + +<p>"Our most diligent pupil learns not so much as an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +earnest teacher," says The Pilgrim's Scrip; and Sir +Austin, in schooling himself to speak with moderation of +women, was beginning to get a glimpse of their side of +the case.</p> + +<p>Cold Blood now touched on love to Hot Blood.</p> + +<p>Cold Blood said, "It is a passion coming in the order +of nature, the ripe fruit of our animal being."</p> + +<p>Hot Blood felt: "It is a divinity! All that is worth +living for in the world."</p> + +<p>Cold Blood said: "It is a fever which tests our strength, +and too often leads to perdition."</p> + +<p>Hot Blood felt: "Lead whither it will, I follow it."</p> + +<p>Cold Blood said: "It is a name men and women are +much in the habit of employing to sanctify their appetites."</p> + +<p>Hot Blood felt: "It is worship; religion; life!"</p> + +<p>And so the two parallel lines ran on.</p> + +<p>The baronet became more personal:</p> + +<p>"You know my love for you, my son. The extent of it +you cannot know; but you must know that it is something +very deep, and—I do not wish to speak of it—but a father +must sometimes petition for gratitude, since the only true +expression of it is his son's moral good. If you care for +my love, or love me in return, aid me with all your energies +to keep you what I have made you, and guard you +from the snares besetting you. It was in my hands once. +It is ceasing to be so. Remember, my son, what my love +is. It is different, I fear, with most fathers: but I am +bound up in your welfare: what you do affects me vitally. +You will take no step that is not intimate with my happiness, +or my misery. And I have had great disappointments, +my son."</p> + +<p>So far it was well. Richard loved his father, and even +in his frenzied state he could not without emotion hear +him thus speak.</p> + +<p>Unhappily, the baronet, who by some fatality never +could see when he was winning the battle, thought proper +in his wisdom to water the dryness of his sermon with a +little jocoseness, on the subject of young men fancying +themselves in love, and, when they were raw and green, +absolutely wanting to be—that most awful thing, which, +the wisest and strongest of men undertake in hesitation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +and after self-mortification and penance—married! He +sketched the Foolish Young Fellow—the object of general +ridicule and covert contempt. He sketched the Woman—the +strange thing made in our image, and with all our +faculties—passing to the rule of one who in taking her +proved that he could not rule himself, and had no knowledge +of her save as a choice morsel which he would burn +the whole world, and himself in the bargain, to possess. +He harped upon the Foolish Young Fellow, till the foolish +young fellow felt his skin tingle and was half-suffocated +with shame and rage.</p> + +<p>After this, the baronet might be as wise as he pleased: +he had quite undone his work. He might analyze Love +and anatomize Woman. He might accord to her her due +position, and paint her fair: he might be shrewd, jocose, +gentle, pathetic, wonderfully wise: he spoke to deaf ears.</p> + +<p>Closing his sermon with the question, softly uttered: +"Have you anything to tell me, Richard?" and hoping for +a confession, and a thorough re-establishment of confidence, +the callous answer struck him cold: "I have not."</p> + +<p>The baronet relapsed in his chair, and made diagrams +of his fingers.</p> + +<p>Richard turned his back on further dialogue by going +to the window. In the section of sky over the street +twinkled two or three stars; shining faintly, feeling the +moon. The moon was rising: the woods were lifting up +to her: his star of the woods would be there. A bed of +moss set about flowers in a basket under him breathed +to his nostril of the woodland keenly, and filled him with +delirious longing.</p> + +<p>A succession of hard sighs brought his father's hand on +his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You have nothing you could say to me, my son? Tell +me, Richard! Remember, there is no home for the soul +where dwells a shadow of untruth!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all, sir," the young man replied, meeting +him with the full orbs of his eyes.</p> + +<p>The baronet withdrew his hand, and paced the room.</p> + +<p>At last it grew impossible for Richard to control his +impatience, and he said: "Do you intend me to stay here, +sir? Am I not to return to Raynham at all to-night?"</p> + +<p>His father was again falsely jocular:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What? and catch the train after giving it ten minutes' +start?"</p> + +<p>"Cassandra will take me," said the young man earnestly. +"I needn't ride her hard, sir. Or perhaps you would lend +me your Winkelried? I should be down with him in little +better than three hours."</p> + +<p>"Even then, you know, the park-gates would be locked."</p> + +<p>"Well, I could stable him in the village. Dowling knows +the horse, and would treat him properly. May I have +him, sir?"</p> + +<p>The cloud cleared off Richard's face as he asked. At +least, if he missed his love that night he would be near +her, breathing the same air, marking what star was above +her bedchamber, hearing the hushed night-talk of the +trees about her dwelling: looking on the distances that +were like hope half-fulfilled and a bodily presence bright +as Hesper, since he knew her. There were two swallows +under the eaves shadowing Lucy's chamber-windows: two +swallows, mates in one nest, blissful birds, who twittered +and cheep-cheeped to the sole-lying beauty in her bed. +Around these birds the lover's heart revolved, he knew +not why. He associated them with all his close-veiled +dreams of happiness. Seldom a morning passed when he +did not watch them leave the nest on their breakfast-flight, +busy in the happy stillness of dawn. It seemed to +him now that if he could be at Raynham to see them in +to-morrow's dawn he would be compensated for his incalculable +loss of to-night: he would forgive and love his +father, London, the life, the world. Just to see those +purple backs and white breasts flash out into the quiet +morning air! He wanted no more.</p> + +<p>The baronet's trifling had placed this enormous boon +within the young man's visionary grasp.</p> + +<p>He still went on trying the boy's temper.</p> + +<p>"You know there would be nobody ready for you at +Raynham. It is unfair to disturb the maids."</p> + +<p>Richard overrode every objection.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, my son," said the baronet, preserving his +half-jocular air, "I must tell you that it is my wish to +have you in town."</p> + +<p>"Then you have not been ill at all, sir!" cried Richard, +as in his despair he seized the whole plot.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have been as well as you could have desired me to +be," said his father.</p> + +<p>"Why did they lie to me?" the young man wrathfully +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I think, Richard, you can best answer that," rejoined +Sir Austin, kindly severe.</p> + +<p>Dread of being signalized as the Foolish Young Fellow +prevented Richard from expostulating further. Sir Austin +saw him grinding his passion into powder for future explosion, +and thought it best to leave him for awhile.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>INDICATES THE APPROACHES OF FEVER</h3> + + +<p>For three weeks Richard had to remain in town and +endure the teachings of the System in a new atmosphere. +He had to sit and listen to men of science who came to +renew their intimacy with his father, and whom of all men +his father wished him to respect and study; practically +scientific men being, in the baronet's estimation, the only +minds thoroughly mated and enviable. He had to endure +an introduction to the Grandisons, and meet the eyes of +his kind, haunted as he was by the Foolish Young Fellow. +The idea that he might by any chance be identified with +him held the poor youth in silent subjection. And it was +horrible. For it was a continued outrage on the fair +image he had in his heart. The notion of the world laughing +at him because he loved sweet Lucy stung him to +momentary frenzies, and developed premature misanthropy +in his spirit. Also the System desired to show him +whither young women of the parish lead us, and he was +dragged about at night-time to see the sons and daughters +of darkness, after the fashion prescribed to Mr. Thompson; +how they danced and ogled down the high road to +perdition. But from this sight possibly the teacher learnt +more than his pupil, since we find him seriously asking +his meditative hours, in the Note-book: "Wherefore Wild +Oats are only of one gender?" a question certainly not +suggested to him at Raynham; and again—"Whether men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +might not be attaching too rigid an importance?" ... +to a subject with a dotted tail apparently, for he gives +it no other in the Note-book. But, as I apprehend, he +had come to plead in behalf of women here, and had +deduced something from positive observation. To Richard +the scenes he witnessed were strange wild pictures, likely +if anything to have increased his misanthropy, but for +his love.</p> + +<p>Certain sweet little notes from Lucy sustained the lover +during the first two weeks of exile. They ceased; and now +Richard fell into such despondency that his father in +alarm had to take measures to hasten their return to +Raynham. At the close of the third week Berry laid a +pair of letters, bearing the Raynham post-mark, on the +breakfast-table, and, after reading one attentively, the +baronet asked his son if he was inclined to quit the +metropolis.</p> + +<p>"For Raynham, sir?" cried Richard, and relapsed, saying, +"As you will!" aware that he had given a glimpse +of the Foolish Young Fellow.</p> + +<p>Berry accordingly received orders to make arrangements +for their instant return to Raynham.</p> + +<p>The letter Sir Austin lifted his head from to bespeak +his son's wishes was a composition of the wise youth +Adrian's, and ran thus:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Benson is doggedly recovering. He requires great indemnities. +Happy when a faithful fool is the main sufferer +in a household! I quite agree with you that our +faithful fool is the best servant of great schemes. Benson +is now a piece of history. I tell him that this is indemnity +enough, and that the sweet Muse usually insists upon +gentlemen being half-flayed before she will condescend to +notice them; but Benson, I regret to say, rejects the comfort +so fine a reflection should offer, and had rather keep +his skin and live opaque. Heroism seems partly a matter +of training. Faithful folly is Benson's nature: the rest +has been thrust upon him.</p> + +<p>"The young person has resigned the neighbourhood. I +had an interview with the fair Papist myself, and also +with the man Blaize. They were both sensible, though +one swore and the other sighed. She is pretty. I hope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +she does not paint. I can affirm that her legs are strong, +for she walks to Bellingham twice a week to take her +Scarlet bath, when, having confessed and been made clean +by the Romish unction, she walks back the brisker, of +which my Protestant muscular system is yet aware. It +was on the road to Bellingham I engaged her. She is +well in the matter of hair. Madam Godiva might challenge +her, it would be a fair match. Has it never struck +you that Woman is nearer the <i>vegetable</i> than Man?—Mr. +Blaize intends her for his son—a junction that every lover +of fairy mythology must desire to see consummated. +Young Tom is heir to all the <i>agrémens</i> of the Beast. The +maids of Lobourne say (I hear) that he is a very Proculus +among them. Possibly the envious men say it for the +maids. Beauty does not speak bad grammar—and altogether +she is better out of the way."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The other letter was from Lady Blandish, a lady's letter, +and said:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I have fulfilled your commission to the best of my +ability, and heartily sad it has made me. She is indeed +very much above her station—pity that it is so! She is +almost beautiful—<i>quite</i> beautiful at times, and not in <i>any +way</i> what you have been led to fancy. The poor child +had no story to tell. I have again seen her, and talked +with her for an hour as kindly as I could. I could gather +nothing more than we know. It is just a woman's history +as it invariably commences. Richard is the god of her +idolatry. She will renounce him, and sacrifice herself for +his sake. Are we so bad? She asked me what she was +to do. She would do whatever was imposed upon her—all +but pretend to love another, and that she never would, +and, I believe, <i>never will</i>. You know I am sentimental, +and I confess we dropped a <i>few tears</i> together. Her uncle +has sent her for the Winter to the institution where it +appears she was educated, and where they are very fond +of her and want to keep her, which it would be a good +thing if they were to do. The man is a good sort of man. +She was entrusted to him by her father, and he never +interferes with her religion, and is very scrupulous about +all that pertains to it, though, as he says, he is a Christian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +himself. In the Spring (but the poor child does not +know this) she is to come back, and be married to his +lout of a son. I am <i>determined</i> to prevent that. May I +not reckon on your promise to aid me? When you see +her, I am sure you will. It would be sacrilege to look +on and permit such a thing. You know, they are <i>cousins</i>. +She asked me, where in the world there was one like +Richard? What could I answer? They were your own +words, and spoken with a depth of conviction! I hope +he is really calm. I shudder to think of him when he +comes, and discovers what I have been doing. I hope I +have been really doing right! A good deed, you say, +never dies; but we cannot always know—I must rely on +you. Yes, it is, I should think, easy to suffer martyrdom +when one is sure of one's cause! but then one <i>must</i> be +sure of it. I have done nothing lately but to repeat to +myself that saying of yours, No. 54, C. 7, P.S.; and it +has consoled me, I cannot say why, except that all wisdom +consoles, whether it applies directly or not:</p> + +<p>"'<i>For this reason so many fall from God, who have attained +to Him; that they cling to Him with their Weakness, +not with their Strength.</i>'</p> + +<p>"I like to know of what you are thinking when you +composed this or that saying—what <i>suggested</i> it. May +not one be admitted to inspect the machinery of wisdom? +I feel curious to know how thoughts—<i>real</i> thoughts—are +born. Not that I hope to win the secret. Here is the +beginning of one (but we poor women can never put together +even two of the three ideas which you say go to +form a thought): 'When a wise man makes a false step, +will he not go farther than a fool?' It has just flitted +through me.</p> + +<p>"I cannot get on with Gibbon, so wait your return to +recommence the readings. I dislike the <i>sneering essence</i> +of his writings. I keep referring to his face, until the +dislike seems to become personal. How different it is +with Wordsworth! And yet I cannot escape from the +thought that he is always solemnly thinking of himself +(but I <i>do</i> reverence him). But this is curious; Byron +was a greater egoist, and yet I do not feel the same with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +him. He reminds me of a beast of the desert, savage and +beautiful; and the former is what one would imagine +a superior donkey reclaimed from the heathen to be—a +<i>very</i> superior donkey, I mean, with great power of speech +and great natural complacency, and whose stubbornness +you must admire as part of his mission. The worst is +that no one will imagine anything sublime in a superior +donkey, so my simile is unfair and false. Is it not +strange? I love Wordsworth best, and yet Byron has the +greater power over me. How is that?"</p></blockquote> + +<p>("Because," Sir Austin wrote beside the query in pencil, +"women are cowards, and succumb to Irony and Passion, +rather than yield their hearts to Excellence and Nature's +Inspiration.")</p> + +<p>The letter pursued:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I have finished Boiardo and have taken up Berni. The +latter offends me. I suppose we women do not really care +for humour. You are right in saying we have none ourselves, +and 'cackle' instead of laugh. It is true (of me, +at least) that 'Falstaff is only to us an incorrigible fat +man.' I want to know what he <i>illustrates</i>. And Don +Quixote—what end can be served in making a noble mind +ridiculous?—I hear you say—practical! So it is. We +are very narrow, I know. But we like wit—practical +again! Or in your words (when I really <i>think</i> they generally +come to my aid—perhaps it is that it is often all +<i>your thought</i>); we 'prefer the rapier thrust, to the broad +embrace, of Intelligence.'"</p></blockquote> + +<p>He trifled with the letter for some time, re-reading +chosen passages as he walked about the room, and considering +he scarce knew what. There are ideas language +is too gross for, and shape too arbitrary, which come to +us and have a definite influence upon us, and yet we +cannot fasten on the filmy things and make them visible +and distinct to ourselves, much less to others. Why did +he twice throw a look into the glass in the act of passing +it? He stood for a moment with head erect facing it. +His eyes for the nonce seemed little to peruse his outer +features; the grey gathered brows, and the wrinkles much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +action of them had traced over the circles half up his +high straight forehead; the iron-grey hair that rose over +his forehead and fell away in the fashion of Richard's +plume. His general appearance showed the tints of years; +but none of their weight, and nothing of the dignity of +his youth, was gone. It was so far satisfactory, but +his eyes were wide, as one who looks at his essential self +through the mask we wear. Perhaps he was speculating +as he looked on the sort of aspect he presented to the +lady's discriminative regard. Of her feelings he had not +a suspicion. But he knew with what extraordinary lucidity +women can, when it pleases them, and when their +feelings are not quite boiling under the noonday sun, +seize all the sides of a character, and put their fingers +on its weak point. He was cognizant of the total absence +of the humorous in himself (the want that most shut +him out from his fellows), and perhaps the clear-thoughted, +intensely self-examining gentleman filmily conceived, +Me also, in common with the poet, she gazes on +as one of the superior—grey beasts!</p> + +<p>He may have so conceived the case; he was capable of +that great-mindedness, and could snatch at times very +luminous glances at the broad reflector which the world +of fact lying outside our narrow compass holds up for us +to see ourselves in when we will. Unhappily, the faculty +of laughter, which is due to this gift, was denied him; +and having seen, he, like the companion of friend Balaam, +could go no farther. For a good wind of laughter had +relieved him of much of the blight of self-deception, and +oddness, and extravagance; had given a healthier view +of our atmosphere of life; but he had it not.</p> + +<p>Journeying back to Bellingham in the train, with the +heated brain and brilliant eye of his son beside him, Sir +Austin tried hard to feel infallible, as a man with a +System should feel; and because he could not do so, after +much mental conflict, he descended to entertain a personal +antagonism to the young woman who had stepped in between +his experiment and success. He did not think +kindly of her. Lady Blandish's encomiums of her behaviour +and her beauty annoyed him. Forgetful that he +had in a measure forfeited his rights to it, he took the +common ground of fathers, and demanded, "Why he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +not justified in doing all that lay in his power to prevent +his son from casting himself away upon the first creature +with a pretty face he encountered?" Deliberating thus, +he lost the tenderness he should have had for his experiment—the +living, burning youth at his elbow, and his +excessive love for him took a rigorous tone. It appeared +to him politic, reasonable, and just, that the uncle of +this young woman, who had so long nursed the prudent +scheme of marrying her to his son, should not only not +be thwarted in his object but encouraged and even assisted. +At least, not thwarted. Sir Austin had no glass +before him while these ideas hardened in his mind, and +he had rather forgotten the letter of Lady Blandish.</p> + +<p>Father and son were alone in the railway carriage. +Both were too preoccupied to speak. As they neared +Bellingham, the dark was filling the hollows of the +country. Over the pine-hills beyond the station a last +rosy streak lingered across a green sky. Richard eyed +it while they flew along. It caught him forward: it +seemed full of the spirit of his love, and brought tears +of mournful longing to his eyelids. The sad beauty of +that one spot in the heavens seemed to call out to his +soul to swear to his Lucy's truth to him: was like the +sorrowful visage of his fleur-de-luce, as he called her, +appealing to him for faith. That tremulous tender way +she had of half-closing and catching light on the nether-lids, +when sometimes she looked up in her lover's face—a +look so mystic-sweet that it had grown to be the fountain +of his dreams: he saw it yonder, and his blood thrilled.</p> + +<p>Know you those wand-like touches of I know not what, +before which our grosser being melts, and we, much as we +hope to be in the Awaking, stand etherealized, trembling +with new joy? They come but rarely; rarely even in love, +when we fondly think them revelations. Mere sensations +they are, doubtless: and we rank for them no higher in the +spiritual scale than so many translucent glorious <i>polypi</i> +that quiver on the shores, the hues of heaven running +through them. Yet in the harvest of our days it is +something for the animal to have had such mere fleshly +polypian experiences to look back upon, and they give him +an horizon—pale seas of luring splendour. One who has +had them (when they do not bound him) may find the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +Isles of Bliss sooner than another. Sensual faith in the +upper glories is something. "Let us remember," says <span class="smcap">The +Pilgrim's Scrip</span>, "that Nature, though heathenish, reaches +at her best to the footstool of the Highest. She is not +all dust, but a living portion of the spheres. In aspiration +it is our error to despise her, forgetting that through +Nature only can we <i>ascend</i>. Cherished, trained, and +purified, she is then partly worthy the divine mate who +is to make her wholly so. St. Simeon saw the Hog in +Nature, and took Nature for the Hog."</p> + +<p>It was one of these strange bodily exaltations which +thrilled the young man, he knew not how it was, for sadness +and his forebodings vanished. The soft wand touched +him. At that moment, had Sir Austin spoken openly, +Richard might have fallen upon his heart. He could not. +He chose to feel injured on the common ground of fathers, +and to pursue his System by plotting. Lady Blandish +had revived his jealousy of the creature who menaced it, +and jealousy of a System is unreflecting and vindictive +as jealousy of woman.</p> + +<p>Heath-roots and pines breathed sharp in the cool +autumn evening about the Bellingham station. Richard +stood a moment as he stepped from the train, and drew +the country air into his lungs with large heaves of the +chest. Leaving his father to the felicitations of the station-master, +he went into the Lobourne road to look for +his faithful Tom, who had received private orders through +Berry to be in attendance with his young master's mare, +Cassandra, and was lurking in a plantation of firs unenclosed +on the borders of the road, where Richard, +knowing his retainer's zest for conspiracy too well to +seek him anywhere but in the part most favoured with +shelter and concealment, found him furtively whiffing +tobacco.</p> + +<p>"What news, Tom? Is there an illness?"</p> + +<p>Tom sent his undress cap on one side to scratch at +dilemma, an old agricultural habit to which he was still +a slave in moments of abstract thought or sudden difficulty.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't want the rake, Mr. Richard," he whinnied +with a false grin, as he beheld his master's eye vacantly +following the action.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Speak out!" he was commanded. "I haven't had a +letter for a week!"</p> + +<p>Richard learnt the news. He took it with surprising +outward calm, only getting a little closer to Cassandra's +neck, and looking very hard at Tom without seeing a +speck of him, which had the effect on Tom of making him +sincerely wish his master would punch his head at once +rather than fix him in that owl-like way.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" said Richard, huskily. "Yes? She's gone! +Well?"</p> + +<p>Tom was brought to understand he must make the most +of trifles, and recited how he had heard from a female +domestic at Belthorpe of the name of Davenport, formerly +known to him, that the young lady never slept a wink +from the hour she knew she was going, but sat up in her +bed till morning crying most pitifully, though she never +complained. Hereat the tears unconsciously streamed +down Richard's cheeks. Tom said he had tried to see +her, but Mr. Adrian kept him at work, ciphering at a terrible +sum—that and nothing else all day! saying, it was +to please his young master on his return. "Likewise +something in Lat'n," added Tom. "Nom'tive Mouser!—'nough +to make ye mad, sir!" he exclaimed with pathos. +The wretch had been put to acquire a Latin declension.</p> + +<p>Tom saw her on the morning she went away, he said: +she was very sorrowful-looking, and nodded kindly to him +as she passed in the fly along with young Tom Blaize. +"She have got uncommon kind eyes, sir," said Tom, +"and cryin' don't spoil them." For which his hand was +wrenched.</p> + +<p>Tom had no more to tell, save that, in rounding the +road, the young lady had hung out her hand, and seemed +to move it forward and back, as much as to say, Good-bye, +Tom! "And though she couldn't see me," said Tom, +"I took off my hat. I did take it so kind of her to think +of a chap like me." He was at high-pressure sentiment—what +with his education for a hero and his master's love-stricken +state.</p> + +<p>"You saw no more of her, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. That was the last!"</p> + +<p>"That was the last you saw of her, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I saw nothin' more."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And so she went out of sight!"</p> + +<p>"Clean gone, that she were, sir."</p> + +<p>"Why did they take her away? what have they done +with her? where have they taken her to?"</p> + +<p>These red-hot questionings were addressed to the universal +heaven rather than to Tom.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't she write?" they were resumed. "Why did +she leave? She's mine. She belongs to me! Who dared +take her away? Why did she leave without writing?——Tom!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the well-drilled recruit, dressing himself +up to the word of command. He expected a variation of +the theme from the change of tone with which his name +had been pronounced, but it was again, "Where have they +taken her to?" and this was even more perplexing to Tom +than his hard sum in arithmetic had been. He could +only draw down the corners of his mouth hard, and glance +up queerly.</p> + +<p>"She <i>had</i> been crying—you saw that, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"No mistake about that, Mr. Richard. Cryin' all night +and all day, I sh'd say."</p> + +<p>"And she was crying when you saw her?"</p> + +<p>"She look'd as if she'd just done for a moment, sir."</p> + +<p>"But her face was white?"</p> + +<p>"White as a sheet."</p> + +<p>Richard paused to discover whether his instinct had +caught a new view from these facts. He was in a cage, +always knocking against the same bars, fly as he might. +Her tears were the stars in his black night. He clung to +them as golden orbs. Inexplicable as they were, they were +at least pledges of love.</p> + +<p>The hues of sunset had left the West. No light was +there but the steadfast pale eye of twilight. Thither he +was drawn. He mounted Cassandra, saying: "Tell them +something, Tom. I shan't be home to dinner," and rode +off toward the forsaken home of light over Belthorpe, +wherein he saw the wan hand of his Lucy, waving farewell, +receding as he advanced. His jewel was stolen,—he +must gaze upon the empty box.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>CRISIS IN THE APPLE-DISEASE</h3> + + +<p>Night had come on as Richard entered the old elm-shaded, +grass-bordered lane leading down from Raynham +to Belthorpe. The pale eye of twilight was shut. The +wind had tossed up the bank of Western cloud, which was +now flying broad and unlighted across the sky, broad and +balmy—the charioted South-west at full charge behind his +panting coursers. As he neared the farm his heart fluttered +and leapt up. He was sure she must be there. +She must have returned. Why should she have left for +good without writing? He caught suspicion by the +throat, making it voiceless, if it lived: he silenced reason. +Her not writing was now a proof that she had returned. +He listened to nothing but his imperious passion, and +murmured sweet words for her, as if she were by: tender +cherishing epithets of love in the nest. She was there—she +moved somewhere about like a silver flame in the dear +old house, doing her sweet household duties. His blood +began to sing: O happy those within, to see her, and be +about her! By some extraordinary process he contrived +to cast a sort of glory round the burly person of Farmer +Blaize himself. And oh! to have companionship with a +seraph one must know a seraph's bliss, and was not young +Tom to be envied? The smell of late clematis brought +on the wind enwrapped him, and went to his brain, and +threw a light over the old red-brick house, for he remembered +where it grew, and the winter rose-tree, and the +jessamine, and the passion-flower: the garden in front +with the standard roses tended by her hands; the long +wall to the left striped by the branches of the cherry, the +peep of a further green garden through the wall, and then +the orchard, and the fields beyond—the happy circle of her +dwelling! it flashed before his eyes while he looked on the +darkness. And yet it was the reverse of hope which +kindled this light and inspired the momentary calm he +experienced: it was despair exaggerating delusion, wilfully +building up on a groundless basis. "For the tenacity of +true passion is terrible," says <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>: "it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +will stand against the hosts of heaven, God's great array +of Facts, rather than surrender its aim, and must be +crushed before it will succumb—sent to the lowest pit!" +He knew she was not there; she was gone. But the +power of a will strained to madness fought at it, kept +it down, conjured forth her ghost, and would have it as +he dictated. Poor youth! the great array of facts was +in due order of march.</p> + +<p>He had breathed her name many times, and once overloud; +almost a cry for her escaped him. He had not +noticed the opening of a door and the noise of a foot +along the gravel walk. He was leaning over Cassandra's +uneasy neck watching the one window intently, when a +voice addressed him out of the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Be that you, young gentleman?—Mr. Fev'rel?"</p> + +<p>Richard's trance was broken. "Mr. Blaize!" he said, +recognizing the farmer's voice.</p> + +<p>"Good even'n t'you, sir," returned the farmer. "I knew +the mare though I didn't know you. Rather bluff to-night +it be. Will ye step in, Mr. Fev'rel? it's beginnin' +to spit—going to be a wildish night, I reckon."</p> + +<p>Richard dismounted. The farmer called one of his men +to hold the mare, and ushered the young man in. Once +there, Richard's conjurations ceased. There was a deadness +about the rooms and passages that told of her absence. +The walls he touched—these were the vacant shells +of her. He had never been in the house since he knew +her, and now what strange sweetness, and what pangs!</p> + +<p>Young Tom Blaize was in the parlour, squared over the +table in open-mouthed examination of an ancient book of +the fashions for a summer month which had elapsed during +his mother's minority. Young Tom was respectfully +studying the aspects of the radiant beauties of the polite +work. He also was a thrall of woman, newly enrolled, +and full of wonder.</p> + +<p>"What, Tom!" the farmer sang out as soon as he had +opened the door; "there ye be! at yer Folly agin, are ye? +What good'll them fashens do to you, I'd like t'know? +Come, shut up, and go and see to Mr. Fev'rel's mare. He's +al'ays at that ther' Folly now. I say there never were a +better name for a book than that ther' Folly! Talk about +attitudes!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>The farmer laughed his fat sides into a chair, and +motioned his visitor to do likewise.</p> + +<p>"It's a comfort they're most on 'em females," he pursued, +sounding a thwack on his knee as he settled himself +agreeably in his seat. "It don't matter much what they +does, except pinchin' in—waspin' it—at the waist. Give +me nature, I say—woman as she's made! eh, young gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"You seem very lonely here," said Richard, glancing +round, and at the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"Lonely?" quoth the farmer. "Well, for the matter o' +that, we be!—jest now, so't happens; I've got my pipe, +and Tom've got his Folly. He's on one side the table, +and I'm on t'other. He gaapes, and I gazes. We are a +bit lonesome. But there—it's <i>for</i> the best!"</p> + +<p>Richard resumed, "I hardly expected to see you to-night, +Mr. Blaize."</p> + +<p>"Y'acted like a man in coming, young gentleman, and +I does ye honour for it!" said Farmer Blaize with +sudden energy and directness.</p> + +<p>The thing implied by the farmer's words caused Richard +to take a quick breath. They looked at each other, and +looked away, the farmer thrumming on the arm of his +chair.</p> + +<p>Above the mantel-piece, surrounded by tarnished indifferent +miniatures of high-collared, well-to-do yeomen of +the anterior generation, trying their best not to grin, and +high-waisted old ladies smiling an encouraging smile +through plentiful cap-puckers, there hung a passably executed +half-figure of a naval officer in uniform, grasping +a telescope under his left arm, who stood forth clearly +as not of their kith and kin. His eyes were blue, his +hair light, his bearing that of a man who knows how +to carry his head and shoulders. The artist, while giving +him an epaulette to indicate his rank, had also recorded +the juvenility which a lieutenant in the naval service +can retain after arriving at that position, by painting +him with smooth cheeks and fresh ruddy lips. To this +portrait Richard's eyes were directed. Farmer Blaize +observed it, and said—</p> + +<p>"Her father, sir!"</p> + +<p>Richard moderated his voice to praise the likeness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said the farmer, "pretty well. Next best to +havin' <i>her</i>, though it's a long way off that!"</p> + +<p>"An old family, Mr. Blaize—is it not?" Richard asked +in as careless a tone as he could assume.</p> + +<p>"Gentlefolks—what's left of 'em," replied the farmer +with an equally affected indifference.</p> + +<p>"And that's her father?" said Richard, growing bolder +to speak of her.</p> + +<p>"That's her father, young gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Blaize," Richard turned to face him, and burst +out, "where is she?"</p> + +<p>"Gone, sir! packed off!—Can't have her here now." +The farmer thrummed a step brisker, and eyed the young +man's wild face resolutely.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Blaize," Richard leaned forward to get closer to +him. He was stunned, and hardly aware of what he was +saying or doing: "Where has she gone? Why did she +leave?"</p> + +<p>"You needn't to ask, sir—ye know," said the farmer, +with a side shot of his head.</p> + +<p>"But <i>she</i> did not—it was not her wish to go?"</p> + +<p>"No! I think she likes the place. Mayhap she likes't +too well!"</p> + +<p>"Why did you send her away to make her unhappy, +Mr. Blaize?"</p> + +<p>The farmer bluntly denied it was he was the party who +made her unhappy. "Nobody can't accuse <i>me</i>. Tell ye +what, sir. I wunt have the busybodies set to work about +her, and there's all the matter. So let you and I come to +an understandin'."</p> + +<p>A blind inclination to take offence made Richard sit +upright. He forgot it the next minute, and said humbly: +"Am I the cause of her going?"</p> + +<p>"Well!" returned the farmer, "to speak straight—ye +be!"</p> + +<p>"What can I do, Mr. Blaize, that she may come back +again?" the young hypocrite asked.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the farmer, "you're coming to business. +Glad to hear ye talk in that sensible way, Mr. Fev'rel. +You may guess I wants her bad enough. The house ain't +itself now she's away, and I ain't myself. Well, sir! +This ye can do. If you gives me your promise not to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +meddle with her at all—I can't mak' out how you come +to be acquainted; not to try to get her to be meetin' you—and +if you'd a seen her when she left, you would—when +did ye meet?—last grass, wasn't it?—your word as a +gentleman not to be writing letters, and spyin' after her—I'll +have her back at once. Back she shall come!"</p> + +<p>"Give her up!" cried Richard.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's it!" said the farmer. "Give her up."</p> + +<p>The young man checked the annihilation of time that +was on his mouth.</p> + +<p>"You sent her away to protect her from me, then?" he +said savagely.</p> + +<p>"That's not quite it, but that'll do," rejoined the farmer.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I shall harm her, sir?"</p> + +<p>"People seem to think she'll harm you, young gentleman," +the farmer said with some irony.</p> + +<p>"Harm <i>me</i>—she? What people?"</p> + +<p>"People pretty intimate with you, sir."</p> + +<p>"What people? Who spoke of us?" Richard began to +scent a plot, and would not be balked.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, look here," said the farmer. "It ain't no +secret, and if it be, I don't see why I'm to keep it. It +appears your education's peculiar!" The farmer drawled +out the word as if he were describing the figure of a snake. +"You ain't to be as other young gentlemen. All the +better! You're a fine bold young gentleman, and your +father's a right to be proud of ye. Well, sir—I'm sure +I thank him for't—he comes to hear of you and Luce, and +of course he don't want nothin' o' that—more do I. I +meets him there! What's more I won't have nothin' +of it. She be my gal. She were left to my protection. +And she's a lady, sir. Let me tell ye, ye won't find many +on 'em so well looked to as she be—my Luce! Well, Mr. +Fev'rel, it's you, or it's her—one of ye must be out o' +the way. So we're told. And Luce—I do believe she's +just as anxious about yer education as yer father—she +says she'll go, and wouldn't write, and'd break it off for +the sake o' your education. And she've kep' her word, +haven't she?—She's a true'n. What she says she'll do!—True +blue she be, my Luce! So now, sir, you do the +same, and I'll thank ye."</p> + +<p>Any one who has tossed a sheet of paper into the fire,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +and seen it gradually brown with heat, and strike to +flame, may conceive the mind of the lover as he listened +to this speech.</p> + +<p>His anger did not evaporate in words, but condensed +and sank deep. "Mr. Blaize," he said, "this is very kind +of the people you allude to, but I am of an age now to +think and act for myself—I love her, sir!" His whole +countenance changed, and the muscles of his face quivered.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said the farmer, appeasingly, "we all do at your +age—somebody or other. It's natural!"</p> + +<p>"I love her!" the young man thundered afresh, too +much possessed by his passion to have a sense of shame +in the confession. "Farmer!" his voice fell to supplication, +"will you bring her back?"</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize made a queer face. He asked—what +for? and where was the promise required?—But was not +the lover's argument conclusive? He said he loved her! +and he could not see why her uncle should not in consequence +immediately send for her, that they might be +together. All very well, quoth the farmer, but what's +to come of it?—What was to come of it? Why, love, and +more love! And a bit too much! the farmer added grimly.</p> + +<p>"Then you refuse me, farmer," said Richard. "I must +look to you for keeping her away from me, not to—to—these +people. You will not have her back, though I tell +you I love her better than my life?"</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize now had to answer him plainly, he had a +reason and an objection of his own. And it was, that her +character was at stake, and God knew whether she herself +might not be in danger. He spoke with a kindly candour, +not without dignity. He complimented Richard personally, +but young people were young people; baronets' sons +were not in the habit of marrying farmers' nieces.</p> + +<p>At first the son of a System did not comprehend him. +When he did, he said: "Farmer! if I give you my word of +honour, as I hope for heaven, to marry her when I am +of age, will you have her back?"</p> + +<p>He was so fervid that, to quiet him, the farmer only +shook his head doubtfully at the bars of the grate, and let +his chest fall slowly. Richard caught what seemed to him +a glimpse of encouragement in these signs, and observed: +"It's not because you object to me, Mr. Blaize?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>The farmer signified it was not that.</p> + +<p>"It's because my father is against me," Richard went +on, and undertook to show that love was so sacred a matter +that no father could entirely and for ever resist his son's +inclinations. Argument being a cool field where the +farmer could meet and match him, the young man got +on the tramroad of his passion, and went ahead. He +drew pictures of Lucy, of her truth, and his own. He +took leaps from life to death, from death to life, mixing +imprecations and prayers in a torrent. Perhaps he did +move the stolid old Englishman a little, he was so vehement, +and made so visible a sacrifice of his pride.</p> + +<p>Farmer Blaize tried to pacify him, but it was useless. +His jewel he must have.</p> + +<p>The farmer stretched out his hand for the pipe that +allayeth botheration. "May smoke heer now," he said. +"Not when—somebody's present. Smoke in the kitchen +then. Don't mind smell?"</p> + +<p>Richard nodded, and watched the operations while the +farmer filled, and lighted, and began to puff, as if his +fate hung on them.</p> + +<p>"Who'd a' thought, when you sat over there once, of +its comin' to this?" ejaculated the farmer, drawing ease +and reflection from tobacco. "You didn't think much of +her that day, young gentleman! I introduced ye. Well! +things comes about. Can't you wait till she returns in +due course, now?"</p> + +<p>This suggestion, the work of the pipe, did but bring on +him another torrent.</p> + +<p>"It's queer," said the farmer, putting the mouth of the +pipe to his wrinkled-up temples.</p> + +<p>Richard waited for him, and then he laid down the pipe +altogether, as no aid in perplexity, and said, after leaning +his arm on the table and staring at Richard an instant:</p> + +<p>"Look, young gentleman! My word's gone. I've spoke +it. I've given 'em the 'surance she shan't be back till the +Spring, and then I'll have her, and then—well! I do +hope, for more reasons than one, ye'll both be wiser—I've +got my own notions about her. But I an't the +man to force a gal to marry 'gainst her inclines. Depend +upon it I'm not your enemy, Mr. Fev'rel. You're +jest the one to mak' a young gal proud. So wait,—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +see. That's my 'dvice. Jest tak' and wait. I've no more +to say."</p> + +<p>Richard's impetuosity had made him really afraid of +speaking his notions concerning the projected felicity of +young Tom, if indeed they were serious.</p> + +<p>The farmer repeated that he had no more to say; +and Richard, with "Wait till the Spring! Wait till the +Spring!" dinning despair in his ears, stood up to depart. +Farmer Blaize shook his slack hand in a friendly way, +and called out at the door for young Tom, who, dreading +allusions to his Folly, did not appear. A maid rushed +by Richard in the passage, and slipped something into +his grasp, which fixed on it without further consciousness +than that of touch. The mare was led forth by the Bantam. +A light rain was falling down strong warm gusts, +and the trees were noisy in the night. Farmer Blaize +requested Richard at the gate to give him his hand, and +say all was well. He liked the young man for his earnestness +and honest outspeaking. Richard could not say all +was well, but he gave his hand, and knitted it to the +farmer's in a sharp squeeze, when he got upon Cassandra, +and rode into the tumult.</p> + +<p>A calm, clear dawn succeeded the roaring West, and +threw its glowing grey image on the waters of the Abbey-lake. +Before sunrise Tom Bakewell was abroad, and +met the missing youth, his master, jogging Cassandra +leisurely along the Lobourne park-road, a sorry couple +to look at. Cassandra's flanks were caked with mud, her +head drooped: all that was in her had been taken out +by that wild night. On what heaths and heavy fallows +had she not spent her noble strength, recklessly fretting +through the darkness!</p> + +<p>"Take the mare," said Richard, dismounting and patting +her between the eyes. "She's done up, poor old +girl! Look to her, Tom, and then come to me in my +room."</p> + +<p>Tom asked no questions.</p> + +<p>Three days would bring the anniversary of Richard's +birth, and though Tom was close, the condition of the +mare, and the young gentleman's strange freak in riding +her out all night becoming known, prepared everybody +at Raynham for the usual bad-luck birthday, the prophets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +of which were full of sad gratification. Sir Austin had +an unpleasant office to require of his son; no other than +that of humbly begging Benson's pardon, and washing +out the undue blood he had spilt in taking his Pound of +Flesh. Heavy Benson was told to anticipate the demand +for pardon, and practised in his mind the most melancholy +Christian deportment he could assume on the occasion. +But while his son was in this state, Sir Austin considered +that he would hardly be brought to see the virtues of the +act, and did not make the requisition of him, and heavy +Benson remained drawn up solemnly expectant at doorways, +and at the foot of the staircase, a Saurian Caryatid, +wherever he could get a step in advance of the +young man, while Richard heedlessly passed him, as he +passed everybody else, his head bent to the ground, and +his legs bearing him like random instruments of whose +service he was unconscious. It was a shock to Benson's +implicit belief in his patron; and he was not consoled by +the philosophic explanation, "That Good in a strong many-compounded +nature is of slower growth than any other +mortal thing, and must not be forced." Damnatory doctrines +best pleased Benson. He was ready to pardon, +as a Christian should, but he did want his enemy before +him on his knees. And now, though the Saurian Eye +saw more than all the other eyes in the house, and saw +that there was matter in hand between Tom and his +master to breed exceeding discomposure to the System, +Benson, as he had not received his indemnity, and did +not wish to encounter fresh perils for nothing, held his +peace.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin partly divined what was going on in the +breast of his son, without conceiving the depths of distrust +his son cherished or quite measuring the intensity +of the passion that consumed him. He was very kind and +tender with him. Like a cunning physician who has, +nevertheless, overlooked the change in the disease super-induced +by one false dose, he meditated his prescriptions +carefully and confidently, sure that he knew the case, and +was a match for it. He decreed that Richard's erratic +behaviour should pass unnoticed. Two days before the +birthday, he asked him whether he would object to having +company? To which Richard said: "Have whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +you will, sir." The preparation for festivity commenced +accordingly.</p> + +<p>On the birthday eve he dined with the rest. Lady +Blandish was there, and sat penitently at his right. +Hippias prognosticated certain indigestion for himself on +the morrow. The Eighteenth Century wondered whether +she should live to see another birthday. Adrian drank +the two-years' distant term of his tutorship, and Algernon +went over the list of the Lobourne men who would cope +with Bursley on the morrow. Sir Austin gave ear and +a word to all, keeping his mental eye for his son. To +please Lady Blandish also, Adrian ventured to make +trifling jokes about London's Mrs. Grandison; jokes delicately +not decent, but so delicately so, that it was not +decent to perceive it.</p> + +<p>After dinner Richard left them. Nothing more than +commonly peculiar was observed about him, beyond the +excessive glitter of his eyes, but the baronet said, "Yes, +yes! that will pass." He and Adrian, and Lady Blandish, +took tea in the library, and sat till a late hour discussing +casuistries relating mostly to the Apple-disease. +Converse very amusing to the wise youth, who could +suggest to the two chaste minds situations of the shadiest +character, with the air of a seeker after truth, and lead +them, unsuspecting, where they dared not look about +them. The Aphorist had elated the heart of his constant +fair worshipper with a newly rounded if not newly conceived +sentence, when they became aware that they were +four. Heavy Benson stood among them. He said he +had knocked, but received no answer. There was, however, +a vestige of surprise and dissatisfaction on his face +beholding Adrian of the company, which had not quite +worn away, and gave place, when it did vanish, to an +aspect of flabby severity.</p> + +<p>"Well, Benson? well?" said the baronet.</p> + +<p>The unmoving man replied: "If you please, Sir Austin—Mr. +Richard!"</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>"He's out!"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"With Bakewell!"</p> + +<p>"Well?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And a carpet-bag!"</p> + +<p>The carpet-bag might be supposed to contain that funny +thing called a young hero's romance in the making.</p> + +<p>Out Richard was, and with a carpet-bag, which Tom +Bakewell carried. He was on the road to Bellingham, +under heavy rain, hasting like an escaped captive, wild +with joy, while Tom shook his skin, and grunted at his +discomforts. The mail train was to be caught at Bellingham. +He knew where to find her now, through the +intervention of Miss Davenport, and thither he was flying, +an arrow loosed from the bow: thither, in spite of +fathers and friends and plotters, to claim her, and take +her, and stand with her against the world.</p> + +<p>They were both thoroughly wet when they entered +Bellingham, and Tom's visions were of hot drinks. He +hinted the necessity for inward consolation to his master, +who could answer nothing but "Tom! Tom! I shall see +her to-morrow!" It was bad—travelling in the wet, Tom +hinted again, to provoke the same insane outcry, and have +his arm seized and furiously shaken into the bargain. +Passing the principal inn of the place, Tom spoke plainly +for brandy.</p> + +<p>"No!" cried Richard, "there's not a moment to be +lost!" and as he said it, he reeled, and fell against Tom, +muttering indistinctly of faintness, and that there was +no time to lose. Tom lifted him in his arms, and got +admission to the inn. Brandy, the country's specific, was +advised by host and hostess, and forced into his mouth, +reviving him sufficiently to cry out, "Tom! the bell's +ringing: we shall be late," after which he fell back insensible +on the sofa where they had stretched him. Excitement +of blood and brain had done its work upon him. +The youth suffered them to undress him and put him +to bed, and there he lay, forgetful even of love; a +drowned weed borne onward by the tide of the hours. +There his father found him.</p> + +<p>Was the Scientific Humanist remorseful? He had +looked forward to such a crisis as that point in the +disease his son was the victim of, when the body would +fail and give the spirit calm to conquer the malady, +knowing very well that the seeds of the evil were not +of the spirit. Moreover, to see him and have him was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +a repose after the alarm Benson had sounded. "Mark!" +he said to Lady Blandish, "when he recovers he will not +care for her."</p> + +<p>The lady had accompanied him to the Bellingham inn +on first hearing of Richard's seizure.</p> + +<p>"What an iron man you can be," she exclaimed, +smothering her intuitions. She was for giving the boy +his bauble; promising it him, at least, if he would only +get well and be the bright flower of promise he once was.</p> + +<p>"Can you look on him," she pleaded, "can you look on +him and persevere?"</p> + +<p>It was a hard sight for this man who loved his son so +deeply. The youth lay in his strange bed, straight and +motionless, with fever on his cheeks, and altered eyes.</p> + +<p>Old Dr. Clifford of Lobourne was the medical attendant, +who, with head-shaking, and gathering of lips, and reminiscences +of ancient arguments, guaranteed to do all +that leech could do in the matter. The old doctor did +admit that Richard's constitution was admirable, and +answered to his prescriptions like a piano to the musician. +"But," he said at a family consultation, for Sir Austin +had told him how it stood with the young man, "drugs +are not much in cases of this sort. Change! That's +what's wanted, and as soon as may be. Distraction! +He ought to see the world, and know what he is made +of. It's no use my talking, I know," added the doctor.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," said Sir Austin, "I am quite of +your persuasion. And the world he shall see—now."</p> + +<p>"We have dipped him in Styx, you know, doctor," +Adrian remarked.</p> + +<p>"But, doctor," said Lady Blandish, "have you known +a case of this sort before?"</p> + +<p>"Never, my lady," said the doctor, "they're not common +in these parts. Country people are tolerably healthy-minded."</p> + +<p>"But people—and country people—have died for love, +doctor?"</p> + +<p>The doctor had not met any of them.</p> + +<p>"Men, or women?" inquired the baronet.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish believed mostly women.</p> + +<p>"Ask the doctor whether they were healthy-minded +women," said the baronet. "No! you are both looking at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +the wrong end. Between a highly-cultured being, and +an emotionless animal, there is all the difference in the +world. But of the two, the doctor is nearer the truth. +The healthy nature is pretty safe. If he allowed for +organization he would be right altogether. To feel, but +not to feel to excess, that is the problem."</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If I can't have the one I chose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some fresh maid I will propose,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Adrian hummed a country ballad.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>OF THE SPRING PRIMROSE AND THE AUTUMNAL</h3> + + +<p>When the young Experiment again knew the hours that +rolled him onward, he was in his own room at Raynham. +Nothing had changed: only a strong fist had knocked him +down and stunned him, and he opened his eyes to a grey +world: he had forgotten what he lived for. He was weak +and thin, and with a pale memory of things. His functions +were the same, everything surrounding him was the +same: he looked upon the old blue hills, the far-lying +fallows, the river, and the woods: he knew them, they +seemed to have lost recollection of him. Nor could he find +in familiar human faces the secret of intimacy of heretofore. +They were the same faces: they nodded and smiled +to him. What was lost he could not tell. Something had +been knocked out of him! He was sensible of his father's +sweetness of manner, and he was grieved that he could +not reply to it, for every sense of shame and reproach had +strangely gone. He felt very useless. In place of the +fiery love for one, he now bore about a cold charity to +all.</p> + +<p>Thus in the heart of the young man died the Spring +Primrose, and while it died another heart was pushing +forth the Primrose of Autumn.</p> + +<p>The wonderful change in Richard, and the wisdom of +her admirer, now positively proved, were exciting matters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +to Lady Blandish. She was rebuked for certain little +rebellious fancies concerning him that had come across +her enslaved mind from time to time. For was he not +almost a prophet? It distressed the sentimental lady that +a love like Richard's could pass off in mere smoke, and +words such as she had heard him speak in Abbey-wood +resolve to emptiness. Nay, it humiliated her personally, +and the baronet's shrewd prognostication humiliated her. +For how should he know, and dare to say, that love was +a thing of the dust that could be trodden out under the +heel of science? But he had said so, and he had proved +himself right. She heard with wonderment that Richard +of his own accord had spoken to his father of the folly +he had been guilty of, and had begged his pardon. The +baronet told her this, adding that the youth had done it +in a cold unwavering way, without a movement of his +features: had evidently done it to throw off the burden +of the duty he had conceived. He had thought himself +bound to acknowledge that he had been the Foolish Young +Fellow, wishing, possibly, to abjure the fact by an act of +penance. He had also given satisfaction to Benson, and +was become a renovated peaceful spirit, whose main object +appeared to be to get up his physical strength by exercise +and no expenditure of speech.</p> + +<p>In her company he was composed and courteous; even +when they were alone together, he did not exhibit a trace +of melancholy. Sober he seemed, as one who has recovered +from a drunkenness and has determined to drink no more. +The idea struck her that he might be playing a part, but +Tom Bakewell, in a private conversation they had, informed +her that he had received an order from his young +master, one day while boxing with him, not to mention +the young lady's name to him as long as he lived; and +Tom could only suppose that she had offended him. Theoretically +wise Lady Blandish had always thought the +baronet; she was unprepared to find him thus practically +sagacious. She fell many degrees; she wanted something +to cling to; so she clung to the man who struck her low. +Love, then, was earthly; its depth could be probed by +science! A man lived who could measure it from end +to end; foretell its term; handle the young cherub as were +he a shot owl! We who have flown into cousinship with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +the empyrean, and disported among immortal hosts, our +base birth as a child of Time is made bare to us!—our +wings are cut! Oh, then, if science is this victorious +enemy of love, let us love science! was the logic of the +lady's heart; and secretly cherishing the assurance that +she should confute him yet, and prove him utterly wrong, +she gave him the fruits of present success, as it is a habit +of women to do; involuntarily partly. The fires took hold +of her. She felt soft emotions such as a girl feels, and +they flattered her. It was like youth coming back. Pure +women have a second youth. The Autumn primrose +flourished.</p> + +<p>We are advised by <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span> that—</p> + +<p>"The ways of women, which are Involution, and their +practices, which are Opposition, are generally best hit +upon by guess work, and a bold word;"—it being impossible +to track them and hunt them down in the ordinary +style.</p> + +<p>So that we may not ourselves become involved and opposed, +let us each of us venture a guess and say a bold +word as to how it came that the lady, who trusted love to +be eternal, grovelled to him that shattered her tender faith, +and loved him.</p> + +<p>Hitherto it had been simply a sentimental dalliance, and +gossips had maligned the lady. Just when the gossips +grew tired of their slander, and inclined to look upon her +charitably, she set about to deserve every word they had +said of her; which may instruct us, if you please, that +gossips have only to persist in lying to be crowned with +verity, or that one has only to endure evil mouths for a +period to gain impunity. She was always at the Abbey +now. She was much closeted with the baronet. It seemed +to be understood that she had taken Mrs. Doria's place. +Benson in his misogynic soul perceived that she was taking +Lady Feverel's: but any report circulated by Benson +was sure to meet discredit, and drew the gossips upon +himself; which made his meditations tragic. No sooner +was one woman defeated than another took the field! +The object of the System was no sooner safe than its +great author was in danger!</p> + +<p>"I can't think what has come to Benson," he said to +Adrian.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He seems to have received a fresh legacy of several +pounds of lead," returned the wise youth, and imitating +Dr. Clifford's manner. "Change is what he wants! distraction! +send him to Wales for a month, sir, and let Richard +go with him. The two victims of woman may do each +other good."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately I can't do without him," said the baronet.</p> + +<p>"Then we must continue to have him on our shoulders +all day, and on our chests all night!" Adrian ejaculated.</p> + +<p>"I think while he preserves this aspect we won't have +him at the dinner-table," said the baronet.</p> + +<p>Adrian thought that would be a relief to their digestions; +and added: "You know, sir, what he says?"</p> + +<p>Receiving a negative, Adrian delicately explained to +him that Benson's excessive ponderosity of demeanour +was caused by anxiety for the safety of his master.</p> + +<p>"You must pardon a faithful fool, sir," he continued, +for the baronet became red, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"His stupidity is past belief! I have absolutely to bolt +my study-door against him."</p> + +<p>Adrian at once beheld a charming scene in the interior +of the study, not unlike one that Benson had visually witnessed. +For, like a wary prophet, Benson, that he might +have warrant for what he foretold of the future, had a +care to spy upon the present: warned haply by <span class="smcap">The +Pilgrim's Scrip</span>, of which he was a diligent reader, and +which says, rather emphatically: "Could we see Time's +full face, we were wise of him." Now to see Time's full +face, it is sometimes necessary to look through keyholes, +the veteran having a trick of smiling peace to you on one +cheek and grimacing confusion on the other behind the +curtain. Decency and a sense of honour restrain most +of us from being thus wise and miserable for ever. Benson's +excuse was that he believed in his master, who was +menaced. And moreover, notwithstanding his previous +tribulation, to spy upon Cupid was sweet to him. So +he peeped, and he saw a sight. He saw Time's full face; +or, in other words, he saw the wiles of woman and the +weakness of man: which is our history, as Benson would +have written it, and a great many poets and philosophers +have written it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>Yet it was but the plucking of the Autumn primrose +that Benson had seen: a somewhat different operation +from the plucking of the Spring one: very innocent! Our +staid elderly sister has paler blood, and has, or thinks +she has, a reason or two about the roots. She is not all +instinct. "For this high cause, and for that I know men, +and know him to be the flower of men, I give myself to +him!" She makes that lofty inward exclamation while +the hand is detaching her from the roots. Even so strong +a self-justification she requires. She has not that blind +glory in excess which her younger sister can gild the +longest leap with. And if, moth-like, she desires the star, +she is nervously cautious of candles. Hence her circles +about the dangerous human flame are wide and shy. She +must be drawn nearer and nearer by a fresh <i>reason</i>. She +loves to sentimentalize. Lady Blandish had been sentimentalizing +for ten years. She would have preferred to +pursue the game. The dark-eyed dame was pleased with +her smooth life and the soft excitement that did not +ruffle it. Not willingly did she let herself be won.</p> + +<p>"Sentimentalists," says <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>, "are they +who seek to enjoy without incurring the Immense Debtorship +for a thing done."</p> + +<p>"It is," the writer says of Sentimentalism elsewhere, "a +happy pastime and an important science to the timid, the +idle, and the heartless; but a damning one to them who +have anything to forfeit."</p> + +<p>However, one who could set down the dying for love, as +a sentimentalism, can hardly be accepted as a clear authority. +Assuredly he was not one to avoid the incurring of +the immense debtorship in any way: but he was a bondsman +still to the woman who had forsaken him, and a +spoken word would have made it seem his duty to face that +public scandal which was the last evil to him. What had +so horrified the virtuous Benson, Richard had already beheld +in Daphne's Bower; a simple kissing of the fair +white hand! Doubtless the keyhole somehow added to +Benson's horror. The two similar performances, so very +innocent, had wondrous opposite consequences. The first +kindled Richard to adore Woman; the second destroyed +Benson's faith in Man. But Lady Blandish knew the +difference between the two. She understood why the baronet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +did not speak; excused, and respected him for it. +She was content, since she must love, to love humbly, and +she had, besides, her pity for his sorrows to comfort her. +A hundred fresh reasons for loving him arose and multiplied +every day. He read to her the secret book in his +own handwriting, composed for Richard's Marriage +Guide: containing Advice and Directions to a Young +Husband, full of the most tender wisdom and delicacy; +so she thought; nay, not wanting in poetry, though neither +rhymed nor measured. He expounded to her the distinctive +character of the divers ages of love, giving the +palm to the flower she put forth, over that of Spring, or +the Summer rose. And while they sat and talked, "My +wound has healed," he said. "How?" she asked. "At +the fountain of your eyes," he replied, and drew the joy +of new life from her blushes, without incurring further +debtorship for a thing done.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>IN WHICH THE HERO TAKES A STEP</h3> + + +<p>Let it be some apology for the damage caused by the +careering hero, and a consolation to the quiet wretches, +dragged along with him at his chariot-wheels, that he is +generally the last to know when he has made an actual +start; such a mere creature is he, like the rest of us, albeit +the head of our fates. By this you perceive the true hero, +whether he be a prince or a pot-boy, that he does not plot; +Fortune does all for him. He may be compared to one to +whom, in an electric circle, it is given to carry the <i>battery</i>. +We caper and grimace at his will; yet not his the will, not +his the power. 'Tis all Fortune's, whose puppet he is. She +deals her dispensations through him. Yea, though our +capers be never so comical, he laughs not. Intent upon +his own business, the true hero asks little services of us +here and there; thinks it quite natural that they should +be acceded to, and sees nothing ridiculous in the lamentable +contortions we must go through to fulfil them. +Probably he is the elect of Fortune, because of that notable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +faculty of being intent upon his own business: "Which +is," says <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>, "with men to be valued +equal to that force which in water <i>makes a stream</i>." This +prelude was necessary to the present chapter of Richard's +history.</p><br /> + + +<p>It happened that in the turn of the year, and while old +earth was busy with her flowers, the fresh wind blew, the +little bird sang, and Hippias Feverel, the Dyspepsy, +amazed, felt the Spring move within him. He communicated +his delightful new sensations to the baronet, his +brother, whose constant exclamation with regard to him, +was: "Poor Hippias! All his machinery is bare!" and +had no hope that he would ever be in a condition to defend +it from view. Nevertheless Hippias had that hope, and +so he told his brother, making great exposure of his machinery +to effect the explanation. He spoke of all his +physical experiences exultingly, and with wonder. The +achievement of common efforts, not usually blazoned, he +celebrated as triumphs, and, of course, had Adrian on his +back very quickly. But he could bear him, or anything, +now. It was such ineffable relief to find himself looking +out upon the world of mortals instead of into the black +phantasmal abysses of his own complicated frightful +structure. "My mind doesn't so much seem to haunt +itself, now," said Hippias, nodding shortly and peering +out of intense puckers to convey a glimpse of what hellish +sufferings his had been: "I feel as if I had come above-ground."</p> + +<p>A poor Dyspepsy may talk as he will, but he is the one +who never gets sympathy, or experiences compassion: and +it is he whose groaning petitions for charity do at last +rout that Christian virtue. Lady Blandish, a charitable +soul, could not listen to Hippias, though she had a heart +for little mice and flies, and Sir Austin had also small +patience with his brother's gleam of health, which was +just enough to make his disease visible. He remembered +his early follies and excesses, and bent his ear to him as +one man does to another who complains of having to pay +a debt legally incurred.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Adrian, seeing how the communications +of Hippias were received, "that when our Nemesis takes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +lodgings in the stomach, it's best to act the Spartan, smile +hard, and be silent."</p> + +<p>Richard alone was decently kind to Hippias; whether +from opposition, or real affection, could not be said, as the +young man was mysterious. He advised his uncle to take +exercise, walked with him, cultivated cheerful impressions +in him, and pointed out innocent pursuits. He made Hippias +visit with him some of the poor old folk of the village, +who bewailed the loss of his cousin Austin Wentworth, +and did his best to waken him up, and give the outer world +a stronger hold on him. He succeeded in nothing but in +winning his uncle's gratitude. The season bloomed scarce +longer than a week for Hippias, and then began to languish. +The poor Dyspepsy's eager grasp at beatification +relaxed: he went underground again. He announced that +he felt "spongy things"—one of the more constant throes +of his malady. His bitter face recurred: he chewed the +cud of horrid hallucinations. He told Richard he must +give up going about with him: people telling of their +ailments made him so uncomfortable—the birds were so +noisy, pairing—the rude bare soil sickened him.</p> + +<p>Richard treated him with a gravity equal to his father's. +He asked what the doctors said.</p> + +<p>"Oh! the doctors!" cried Hippias with vehement scepticism. +"No man of sense believes in medicine for chronic +disorder. Do you happen to have heard of any new remedy +then, Richard? No? They advertise a great many cures +for indigestion, I assure you, my dear boy. I wonder +whether one can rely upon the authenticity of those signatures? +I see no reason why there should be <i>no</i> cure for +such a disease?—Eh? And it's just one of the things a +quack, as they call them, would hit upon sooner than one +who is in the beaten track. Do you know, Richard, my +dear boy, I've often thought that if we could by any means +appropriate to our use some of the extraordinary digestive +power that a boa constrictor has in his gastric juices, +there is really no manner of reason why we should not +comfortably dispose of as much of an ox as our stomachs +will hold, and one might eat French dishes without the +wretchedness of thinking what's to follow. And this +makes me think that those fellows <i>may</i>, after all, have +got some truth in them: some secret that, of course, they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +require to be paid for. We distrust each other in this +world too much, Richard. I've felt inclined once or +twice—but it's absurd!—If it only alleviated a few of my +sufferings <i>I</i> should be satisfied. I've no hesitation in +saying that I should be quite satisfied if it only did +away with one or two, and left me free to eat and drink +as other people do. Not that I mean to try them. It's +only a fancy—Eh? What a thing health is, my dear boy! +Ah! if I were like you! I was in love once!"</p> + +<p>"Were you!" said Richard, coolly regarding him.</p> + +<p>"I've forgotten what I felt!" Hippias sighed. "You've +very much improved, my dear boy."</p> + +<p>"So people say," quoth Richard.</p> + +<p>Hippias looked at him anxiously: "If I go to town and +get the doctor's opinion, about trying a new course—Eh, +Richard? will you come with me? I should like your company. +We could see London together, you know. Enjoy +ourselves," and Hippias rubbed his hands.</p> + +<p>Richard smiled at the feeble glimmer of enjoyment +promised by his uncle's eyes, and said he thought it better +they should stay where they were—an answer that might +mean anything. Hippias immediately became possessed +by the beguiling project. He went to the baronet, and put +the matter before him, instancing doctors as the object +of his journey, not quacks, of course; and requesting leave +to take Richard. Sir Austin was getting uneasy about +his son's manner. It was not natural. His heart seemed +to be frozen: he had no confidences: he appeared to have no +ambition—to have lost the virtues of youth with the +poison that had passed out of him. He was disposed to +try what effect a little travelling might have on him, and +had himself once or twice hinted to Richard that it would +be good for him to move about, the young man quietly +replying that he did not wish to quit Raynham at all, +which was too strict a fulfilment of his father's original +views in educating him there entirely. On the day that +Hippias made his proposal, Adrian, seconded by Lady +Blandish, also made one. The sweet Spring season stirred +in Adrian as well as in others: not to pastoral measures: +to the joys of the operatic world and bravura glories. He +also suggested that it would be advisable to carry Richard +to town for a term, and let him know his position, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +some freedom. Sir Austin weighed the two proposals. +He was pretty certain that Richard's passion was consumed, +and that the youth was now only under the burden +of its ashes. He had found against his heart, at the Bellingham +inn: a great lock of golden hair. He had taken +it, and the lover, after feeling about for it with faint +hands, never asked for it. This precious lock (Miss +Davenport had thrust it into his hand at Belthorpe as +Lucy's last gift), what sighs and tears it had weathered! +The baronet laid it in Richard's sight one day, and beheld +him take it up, turn it over, and drop it down again +calmly, as if he were handling any common curiosity. +It pacified him on that score. The young man's love was +dead. Dr. Clifford said rightly: he wanted distractions. +The baronet determined that Richard should go. Hippias +and Adrian then pressed their several suits as to which +should have him. Hippias, when he could forget himself, +did not lack sense. He observed that Adrian was not at +present a proper companion for Richard, and would teach +him to look on life from the false point.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand a young philosopher," said the +baronet.</p> + +<p>"A young philosopher's an old fool!" returned Hippias, +not thinking that his growl had begotten a phrase.</p> + +<p>His brother smiled with gratification, and applauded +him loudly: "Excellent! worthy of your best days! You're +wrong, though, in applying it to Adrian. He has never +been precocious. All he has done has been to bring sound +common sense to bear upon what he hears and sees. I +think, however," the baronet added, "he may want faith +in the better qualities of men." And this reflection inclined +him not to let his son be alone with Adrian. He +gave Richard his choice, who saw which way his father's +wishes tended, and decided so to please him. Naturally +it annoyed Adrian extremely. He said to his chief:</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know what you are doing, sir. I don't +see that we derive any advantage from the family name +being made notorious for twenty years of obscene suffering, +and becoming a byword for our constitutional tendency +to stomachic distention before we fortunately encountered +Quackem's Pill. My uncle's tortures have been +huge, but I would rather society were not intimate with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +them under their several headings." Adrian enumerated +some of the most abhorrent. "You know him, sir. If he +conceives a duty, he will do it in the face of every decency—all +the more obstinate because the conception is rare. +If he feels a little brisk the morning after the pill, he +sends the letter that makes us famous! We go down to +posterity with heightened characteristics, to say nothing +of a contemporary celebrity nothing less than our being +turned inside-out to the rabble. I confess I don't desire +to have my machinery made bare to them."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin assured the wise youth that Hippias had arranged +to go to Dr. Bairam. He softened Adrian's +chagrin by telling him that in about two weeks they +would follow to London: hinting also at a prospective +Summer campaign. The day was fixed for Richard to +depart, and the day came. Madame the Eighteenth Century +called him to her chamber and put into his hand +a fifty-pound note, as her contribution toward his pocket-expenses. +He did not want it, he said, but she told him +he was a young man, and would soon make that fly when +he stood on his own feet. The old lady did not at all +approve of the System in her heart, and she gave her +grand-nephew to understand that, should he require more, +he knew where to apply, and secrets would be kept. His +father presented him with a hundred pounds—which also +Richard said he did not want—he did not care for money. +"Spend it or not," said the baronet, perfectly secure in +him.</p> + +<p>Hippias had few injunctions to observe. They were to +take up quarters at the hotel, Algernon's general run of +company at the house not being altogether wholesome. +The baronet particularly forewarned Hippias of the imprudence +of attempting to restrict the young man's movements, +and letting him imagine he was under surveillance. +Richard having been, as it were, pollarded by despotism, +was now to grow up straight, and bloom again, in complete +independence, as far as he could feel. So did the sage +decree; and we may pause a moment to reflect how wise +were his previsions, and how successful they must have +been, had not Fortune, the great foe to human cleverness, +turned against him, or he against himself.</p> + +<p>The departure took place on a fine March morning. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +bird of Winter sang from the budding tree; in the blue +sky sang the bird of Summer. Adrian rode between Richard +and Hippias to the Bellingham station, and vented +his disgust on them after his own humorous fashion, +because it did not rain and damp their ardour. In the +rear came Lady Blandish and the baronet, conversing on +the calm summit of success.</p> + +<p>"You have shaped him exactly to resemble yourself," +she said, pointing with her riding-whip to the grave, +stately figure of the young man.</p> + +<p>"Outwardly, perhaps," he answered, and led to a discussion +on Purity and Strength, the lady saying that she +preferred Purity.</p> + +<p>"But you do not," said the baronet. "And there I admire +the always true instinct of women, that they all +worship Strength in whatever form, and seem to know it +to be the child of heaven; whereas Purity is but a characteristic, +a garment, and can be spotted—how soon! For +there are questions in this life with which we must grapple +or be lost, and when, hunted by that cold eye of intense +inner-consciousness, the clearest soul becomes a cunning +fox, if it have not courage to stand and do battle. +Strength indicates a boundless nature—like the Maker. +Strength is a God to you—Purity a toy. A pretty one, +and you seem to be fond of playing with it," he added, +with unaccustomed slyness.</p> + +<p>The lady listened, pleased at the sportive malice which +showed that the constraint on his mind had left him. It +was for women to fight their fight now; she only took part +in it for amusement. This is how the ranks of our +enemies are thinned; no sooner do poor women put up a +champion in their midst than she betrays them.</p> + +<p>"I see," she said archly, "we are the lovelier vessels; +you claim the more direct descent. Men are seedlings: +Women—slips! Nay, you have said so," she cried out at +his gestured protestation, laughing.</p> + +<p>"But I never printed it."</p> + +<p>"Oh! what you speak answers for print with me."</p> + +<p>Exquisite Blandish! He could not choose but love her.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what are your plans?" she asked. "May a +woman know?"</p> + +<p>He replied, "I have none or you would share them. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +shall study him in the world. This indifference must wear +off. I shall mark his inclinations now, and he shall be +what he inclines to. Occupation will be his prime safety. +His cousin Austin's plan of life appears most to his taste, +and he can serve the people that way as well as in Parliament, +should he have no stronger ambition. The clear +duty of a man of any wealth is to serve the people as he +best can. He shall go among Austin's set, if he wishes +it, though personally I find no pleasure in rash imaginations, +and undigested schemes built upon the mere instinct +of principles."</p> + +<p>"Look at him now," said the lady. "He seems to care +for nothing; not even for the beauty of the day."</p> + +<p>"Or Adrian's jokes," added the baronet.</p> + +<p>Adrian could be seen to be trying zealously to torment +a laugh, or a confession of irritation, out of his hearers, +stretching out his chin to one, and to the other, with +audible asides. Richard he treated as a new instrument +of destruction about to be let loose on the slumbering +metropolis; Hippias as one in an interesting condition; +and he got so much fun out of the notion of these two +journeying together, and the mishaps that might occur +to them, that he esteemed it almost a personal insult for +his hearers not to laugh. The wise youth's dull life at +Raynham had afflicted him with many peculiarities of the +professional joker.</p> + +<p>"Oh! the Spring! the Spring!" he cried, as in scorn of +his sallies they exchanged their unmeaning remarks on the +sweet weather across him. "You seem both to be uncommonly +excited by the operations of turtles, rooks, and daws. +Why can't you let them alone?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Wind bloweth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cock croweth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Doodle-doo;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hippy verteth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ricky sterteth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sing Cuckoo!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>There's an old native pastoral!—Why don't you write a +Spring sonnet, Ricky? The asparagus-beds are full of +promise, I hear, and eke the strawberry. Berries I fancy +your Pegasus has a taste for. What kind of berry was that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +I saw some verses of yours about once?—amatory verses +to some kind of berry—yewberry, blueberry, glueberry! +Pretty verses, decidedly warm. Lips, eyes, bosom, legs—legs? +I don't think you gave her any legs. No legs and +no nose. That appears to be the poetic taste of the day. +It shall be admitted that you create the very beauties for a +chaste people.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'O might I lie where leans her lute!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and offend no moral community. That's not a bad image +of yours, my dear boy:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Her shape is like an antelope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the Eastern hills.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But as a candid critic, I would ask you if the likeness can +be considered correct when you give her no legs? You will +see at the ballet that you are in error about women at +present, Richard. That admirable institution which our +venerable elders have imported from Gallia for the instruction +of our gaping youth, will edify and astonish you. I +assure you I used, from reading <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>, to +imagine all sorts of things about them, till I was taken +there, and learnt that they are very like us after all, and +then they ceased to trouble me. Mystery is the great +danger to youth, my son! Mystery is woman's redoubtable +weapon, O Richard of the Ordeal! I'm aware that you've +had your lessons in anatomy, but nothing will persuade +you that an anatomical figure means flesh and blood. You +can't realize the fact. Do you intend to publish when +you're in town? It'll be better not to put your name. +Having one's name to a volume of poems is as bad as to +an advertising pill."</p> + +<p>"I will send you an early copy, Adrian, when I publish," +quoth Richard. "Hark at that old blackbird, uncle."</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Hippias quavered, looking up from the usual +subject of his contemplation, and trying to take an interest +in him, "fine old fellow!"</p> + +<p>"What a chuckle he gives out before he flies! Not +unlike July nightingales. You know that bird I told +you of—the blackbird that had its mate shot, and used +to come to sing to old Dame Bakewell's bird from the tree<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +opposite. A rascal knocked it over the day before yesterday, +and the dame says her bird hasn't sung a note +since."</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary!" Hippias muttered abstractedly. "I +remember the verses."</p> + +<p>"But where's your moral?" interposed the wrathful +Adrian. "Where's constancy rewarded?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'The ouzel-cock so black of hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The orange-tawny bill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rascal with his aim so true;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Poet's little quill!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Where's the moral of that? except that all's game to the +poet! Certainly we have a noble example of the devotedness +of the female, who for three entire days refuses to +make herself heard, on account of a defunct male. I +suppose that's what Ricky dwells on."</p> + +<p>"As you please, my dear Adrian," says Richard, and +points out larch-buds to his uncle, as they ride by the +young green wood.</p> + +<p>The wise youth was driven to extremity. Such a lapse +from his pupil's heroics to this last verge of Arcadian coolness, +Adrian could not believe in. "Hark at this old +blackbird!" he cried, in his turn, and pretending to, interpret +his fits of song:</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a pretty comedy!—Don't we wear the mask +well, my Fiesco?—Genoa will be our own to-morrow!—Only +wait until the train has started—jolly! jolly! jolly! +We'll be winners yet!</p> + +<p>"Not a bad verse—eh, Ricky? my Lucius Junius!"</p> + +<p>"You do the blackbird well," said Richard, and looked +at him in a manner mildly affable.</p> + +<p>Adrian shrugged. "You're a young man of wonderful +powers," he emphatically observed; meaning to say that +Richard quite beat him; for which opinion Richard +gravely thanked him, and with this they rode into Bellingham.</p> + +<p>There was young Tom Blaize at the station, in his Sunday +beaver and gala waistcoat and neck-cloth, coming the +lord over Tom Bakewell, who had preceded his master in +charge of the baggage. He likewise was bound for London.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +Richard, as he was dismounting, heard Adrian say +to the baronet: "The Beast, sir, appears to be going to +fetch Beauty;" but he paid no heed to the words. +Whether young Tom heard them or not, Adrian's look +took the lord out of him, and he shrunk away into obscurity, +where the nearest approach to the fashions which +the tailors of Bellingham could supply to him, sat upon +him more easily, and he was not stiffened by the eyes of +the superiors whom he sought to rival. The baronet, Lady +Blandish, and Adrian remained on horseback, and received +Richard's adieux across the palings. He shook hands with +each of them in the same kindly cold way, eliciting from +Adrian a marked encomium on his style of doing it. The +train came up, and Richard stepped after his uncle into +one of the carriages.</p> + +<p>Now surely there will come an age when the presentation +of science at war with Fortune and the Fates will +be deemed the true epic of modern life; and the aspect of +a scientific humanist who, by dint of incessant watchfulness, +has maintained a System against those active forces, +cannot be reckoned less than sublime, even though at the +moment he but sit upon his horse, on a fine March morning +such as this, and smile wistfully to behold the son +of his heart, his System incarnate, wave a serene adieu to +tutelage, neither too eager nor morbidly unwilling to try +his luck alone for a term of two weeks. At present, I am +aware, an audience impatient for blood and glory scorns +the stress I am putting on incidents so minute, a picture +so little imposing. An audience will come to whom it will +be given to see the elementary machinery at work: who, +as it were, from some slight hint of the straws, will feel +the winds of March when they do not blow. To them will +nothing be trivial, seeing that they will have in their eyes +the invisible conflict going on around us, whose features +a nod, a smile, a laugh of ours perpetually changes. And +they will perceive, moreover, that in real life all hangs +together: the train is laid in the lifting of an eyebrow, +that bursts upon the field of thousands. They will see +the links of things as they pass, and wonder not, as foolish +people now do, that this great matter came out of that +small one.</p> + +<p>Such an audience, then, will participate in the baronet's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +gratification at his son's demeanour, wherein he noted the +calm bearing of experience not gained in the usual wanton +way: and will not be without some excited apprehension +at his twinge of astonishment, when, just as the train +went sliding into swiftness, he beheld the grave, cold, +self-possessed young man throw himself back in the carriage +violently laughing. Science was at a loss to account +for that. Sir Austin checked his mind from inquiring, +that he might keep suspicion at a distance, but he thought +it odd, and the jarring sensation that ran along his nerves +at the sight, remained with him as he rode home.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish's tender womanly intuition bade her say: +"You see it was the very thing he wanted. He has got his +natural spirits already."</p> + +<p>"It was," Adrian put in his word, "the exact thing he +wanted. His spirits have returned miraculously."</p> + +<p>"Something amused him," said the baronet, with an eye +on the puffing train.</p> + +<p>"Probably something his uncle said or did," Lady Blandish +suggested, and led off at a gallop.</p> + +<p>Her conjecture chanced to be quite correct. The cause +for Richard's laughter was simple enough. Hippias, on +finding the carriage-door closed on him, became all at once +aware of the bright-haired hope which dwells in Change, +for one who does not woo her too frequently; and to express +his sudden relief from mental despondency at the +amorous prospect, the Dyspepsy bent and gave his hands +a sharp rub between his legs: which unlucky action +brought Adrian's pastoral,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hippy verteth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sing cuckoo!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>in such comic colours before Richard, that a demon of +laughter seized him.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hippy verteth!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Every time he glanced at his uncle the song sprang up, +and he laughed so immoderately that it looked like madness +come upon him.</p> + +<p>"Why, why, why, what are you laughing at, my dear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +boy," said Hippias, and was provoked by the contagious +exercise to a modest "ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what are <i>you</i> laughing at, uncle?" cried Richard.</p> + +<p>"I really don't know," Hippias chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Nor I, uncle! Sing, cuckoo!"</p> + +<p>They laughed themselves into the pleasantest mood +imaginable. Hippias not only came above-ground, he flew +about in the very skies, <i>verting</i> like any blithe creature of +the season. He remembered old legal jokes, and anecdotes +of Circuit; and Richard laughed at them all, but more at +him—he was so genial, and childishly fresh, and innocently +joyful at his own transformation, while a lurking +doubt in the bottom of his eyes, now and then, that it +might not last, and that he must go underground again, +lent him a look of pathos and humour which tickled his +youthful companion irresistibly, and made his heart warm +to him.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what, uncle," said Richard, "I think travelling's +a capital thing."</p> + +<p>"The best thing in the world, my dear boy," Hippias +returned. "It makes me wish I had given up that Work +of mine, and tried it before, instead of chaining myself +to a task. We're quite different beings in a minute. I +am. Hem! what shall we have for dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Leave that to me, uncle. I shall order for you. You +know, I intend to make you well. How gloriously we go +along! I should like to ride on a railway every day."</p> + +<p>Hippias remarked: "They say it rather injures the digestion."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! see how you'll digest to-night and to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I shall do something yet," sighed Hippias, +alluding to the vast literary fame he had aforetime +dreamed of. "I hope I shall have a good night to-night."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will! What! after laughing like that?"</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" Hippias grunted, "I daresay, Richard, you sleep +the moment you get into bed!"</p> + +<p>"The instant my head's on my pillow, and up the +moment I wake. Health's everything!"</p> + +<p>"Health's everything!" echoed Hippias, from his immense +distance.</p> + +<p>"And if you'll put yourself in my hands," Richard continued,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +"you shall do just as I do. You shall be well and +strong, and sing 'Jolly!' like Adrian's blackbird. You +shall, upon my honour, uncle!"</p> + +<p>He specified the hours of devotion to his uncle's recovery—no +less than twelve a day—that he intended to expend, +and his cheery robustness almost won his uncle to +leap up recklessly and clutch health as his own.</p> + +<p>"Mind," quoth Hippias, with a half-seduced smile, +"mind your dishes are not too savoury!"</p> + +<p>"Light food and claret! Regular meals and amusement! +Lend your heart to all, but give it to none!" exclaims +young Wisdom, and Hippias mutters, "Yes! yes!" and +intimates that the origin of his malady lay in his not following +that maxim earlier.</p> + +<p>"Love ruins us, my dear boy," he said, thinking to +preach Richard a lesson, and Richard boisterously broke +out—</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"The love of Monsieur Francatelli,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was the ruin of—<i>et cætera</i>."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hippias blinked, exclaiming, "Really, my dear boy! I +never saw you so excited."</p> + +<p>"It's the railway! It's the fun, uncle!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Hippias wagged a melancholy head, "you've got +the Golden Bride! Keep her if you can. That's a pretty +fable of your father's. I gave him the idea, though. +Austin filches a great many of my ideas!"</p> + +<p>"Here's the idea in verse, uncle—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">'O sunless walkers by the tide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O have you seen the Golden Bride!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They say that she is fair beyond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All women; faithful, and more fond!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>You know, the young inquirer comes to a group of penitent +sinners by the brink of a stream. They howl, and +answer:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">'Faithful she is, but she forsakes:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fond, yet endless woe she makes:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fair! but with this curse she's cross'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know her not till she is lost!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +Then the doleful party march off in single file solemnly, +and the fabulist pursues—</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'She hath a palace in the West:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright Hesper lights her to her rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And him the Morning Star awakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom to her charmed arms she takes.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'So lives he till he sees, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The maids of baser metal pass.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>And prodigal of the happiness she lends him, he asks to +share it with one of them. There is the Silver Maid, and +the Copper, and the Brassy Maid, and others of them. +First, you know, he tries Argentine, and finds her only +twenty to the pound, and has a worse experience with +Copperina, till he descends to the scullery; and the lower +he goes, the less obscure become the features of his Bride +of Gold, and all her radiance shines forth, my uncle!"</p> + +<p>"Verse rather blunts the point. Well, keep to her, now +you've got her," says Hippias.</p> + +<p>"We will, uncle! Look how the farms fly past! Look +at the cattle in the fields! And how the lines duck, and +swim up!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'She claims the whole, and not the part—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coin of an unusëd heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gain his Golden Bride again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hunts with melancholy men,'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>—and is waked no longer by the Morning Star!"</p> + +<p>"Not if he doesn't sleep till an hour before it rises!" +Hippias interjected. "You don't rhyme badly. But stick +to prose. Poetry's a Base-metal maid. I'm not sure that +any writing's good for the digestion. I'm afraid it has +spoilt mine."</p> + +<p>"Fear nothing, uncle!" laughed Richard. "You shall +ride in the park with me every day to get an appetite. +You and I and the Golden Bride. You know that little +poem of Sandoe's?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'She rides in the park on a prancing bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She and her squires together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her dark locks gleam from a bonnet of grey,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And toss with the tossing feather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Too calmly proud for a glance of pride<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is the beautiful face as it passes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cockneys nod to each other aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The coxcombs lift their glasses.<br /></span> +<br /></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And throng to her, sigh to her, you that can breach<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The ice-wall that guards her securely;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have not such bliss, though she smile on you each,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the heart that can image her purely.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Wasn't Sandoe once a friend of my father's? I suppose +they quarrelled. He understands the heart. What does +he make his 'Humble Lover' say?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'True, Madam, you may think to part<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Conditions by a glacier-ridge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Beauty's for the largest heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And all abysses Love can bridge!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hippias now laughed; grimly, as men laugh at the +emptiness of words.</p> + +<p>"Largest heart!" he sneered. "What's a 'glacier-ridge'? +I've never seen one. I can't deny it rhymes with 'bridge.' +But don't go parading your admiration of that person, +Richard. Your father will speak to you on the subject +when he thinks fit."</p> + +<p>"I thought they had quarrelled," said Richard. "What +a pity!" and he murmured to a pleased ear:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Beauty's for the largest heart!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The flow of their conversation was interrupted by the +entrance of passengers at a station. Richard examined +their faces with pleasure. All faces pleased him. Human +nature sat tributary at the feet of him and his Golden +Bride. As he could not well talk his thoughts before them, +he looked out at the windows, and enjoyed the changing +landscape, projecting all sorts of delights for his old friend +Ripton, and musing hazily on the wondrous things he was +to do in the world; of the great service he was to be to +his fellow-creatures. In the midst of his reveries he was +landed in London. Tom Bakewell stood at the carriage +door. A glance told Richard that his squire had something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +curious on his mind, and he gave Tom the word +to speak out. Tom edged his master out of hearing, and +began sputtering a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Dash'd if I can help it, sir!" he said. "That young +Tom! He've come to town dressed that spicy! and he +don't know his way about no more than a stag. He's come +to fetch somebody from another rail, and he don't know +how to get there, and he ain't sure about which rail 'tis. +Look at him, Mr. Richard! There he goes."</p> + +<p>Young Tom appeared to have the weight of all London +on his beaver.</p> + +<p>"Who has he come for?" Richard asked.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know, sir? You don't like me to mention +the name," mumbled Tom, bursting to be perfectly intelligible.</p> + +<p>"Is it for her, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Lucy, sir."</p> + +<p>Richard turned away, and was seized by Hippias, who +begged him to get out of the noise and pother, and caught +hold of his slack arm to bear him into a conveyance; but +Richard, by wheeling half to the right, or left, always got +his face round to the point where young Tom was man[oe]uvring +to appear at his ease. Even when they were seated +in the conveyance, Hippias could not persuade him to drive +off. He made the excuse that he did not wish to start till +there was a clear road. At last young Tom cast anchor +by a policeman, and, doubtless at the official's suggestion, +bashfully took seat in a cab, and was shot into the whirlpool +of London. Richard then angrily asked his driver +what he was waiting for.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill, my boy?" said Hippias. "Where's your +colour?"</p> + +<p>He laughed oddly, and made a random answer that he +hoped the fellow would drive fast.</p> + +<p>"I hate slow motion after being in the railway," he said.</p> + +<p>Hippias assured him there was something the matter +with him.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, uncle! nothing!" said Richard, looking +fiercely candid.</p> + +<p>They say, that when the skill and care of men rescue +a drowned wretch from extinction, and warm the flickering +spirit into steady flame, such pain it is, the blood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +forcing its way along the dry channels, and the heavily-ticking +nerves, and the sullen heart—the struggle of life +and death in him—grim death relaxing his gripe; such +pain it is, he cries out no thanks to them that pull him +by inches from the depths of the dead river. And he who +has thought a love extinct, and is surprised by the old +fires, and the old tyranny, he rebels, and strives to fight +clear of the cloud of forgotten sensations that settle on +him; such pain it is, the old sweet music reviving through +his frame, and the charm of his passion fixing him afresh. +Still was fair Lucy the one woman to Richard. He had +forbidden her name but from an instinct of self-defence. +Must the maids of baser metal dominate him anew, it is +in Lucy's shape. Thinking of her now so near him—his +darling! all her graces, her sweetness, her truth; for, +despite his bitter blame of her, he knew her true—swam +in a thousand visions before his eyes; visions pathetic, +and full of glory, that now wrung his heart, and now +elated it. As well might a ship attempt to calm the sea, +as this young man the violent emotion that began to rage +in his breast. "I shall not see her!" he said to himself +exultingly, and at the same instant thought, how black +was every corner of the earth but that one spot where +Lucy stood! how utterly cheerless the place he was going +to! Then he determined to bear it; to live in darkness; +there was a refuge in the idea of a voluntary martyrdom. +"For if I chose I could see her—this day within an hour!—I +could see her, and touch her hand, and, oh, heaven!—But +I do not choose." And a great wave swelled through +him, and was crushed down only to swell again more +stormily.</p> + +<p>Then Tom Bakewell's words recurred to him that young +Tom Blaize was uncertain where to go for her, and that +she might be thrown on this Babylon alone. And flying +from point to point, it struck him that they had known +at Raynham of her return, and had sent him to town to +be out of the way—they had been miserably plotting +against him once more. "They shall see what right they +have to fear me. I'll shame them!" was the first turn +taken by his wrathful feelings, as he resolved to go, and +see her safe, and calmly return to his uncle, whom he +sincerely believed not to be one of the conspirators.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +Nevertheless, after forming that resolve, he sat still, as +if there was something fatal in the wheels that bore him +away from it—perhaps because he knew, as some do when +passion is lord, that his intelligence juggled with him; +though none the less keenly did he feel his wrongs and +suspicions. His Golden Bride was waning fast. But +when Hippias ejaculated to cheer him: "We shall soon +be there!" the spell broke. Richard stopped the cab, +saying he wanted to speak to Tom, and would ride with +him the rest of the journey. He knew well enough which +line of railway his Lucy must come by. He had studied +every town and station on the line. Before his uncle +could express more than a mute remonstrance, he jumped +out and hailed Tom Bakewell, who came behind with the +boxes and baggage in a companion cab, his head a yard +beyond the window to make sure of his ark of safety, the +vehicle preceding.</p> + +<p>"What an extraordinary, impetuous boy it is," said Hippias. +"We're in the very street!"</p> + +<p>Within a minute the stalwart Berry, despatched by the +baronet to arrange everything for their comfort, had +opened the door, and made his bow.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Richard, sir?—evaporated?" was Berry's modulated +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Behind—among the boxes, fool!" Hippias growled, as +he received Berry's muscular assistance to alight. "Lunch +ready—eh!"</p> + +<p>"Luncheon was ordered precise at two o'clock, sir—been +in attendance one quarter of an hour. Heah!" Berry sang +out to the second cab, which, with its pyramid of luggage, +remained stationary some thirty paces distant. At his +voice the majestic pile deliberately turned its back on +them, and went off in a contrary direction.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>RECORDS THE RAPID DEVELOPMENT OF THE HERO</h3> + + +<p>On the stroke of the hour when Ripton Thompson was +accustomed to consult his good watch for practical purposes, +and sniff freedom and the forthcoming dinner, a +burglarious foot entered the clerk's office where he sat, +and a man of a scowling countenance, who looked a villain, +and whom he was afraid he knew, slid a letter into his +hands, nodding that it would be prudent for him to read, +and be silent. Ripton obeyed in alarm. Apparently the +contents of the letter relieved his conscience; for he +reached down his hat, and told Mr. Beazley to inform his +father that he had business of pressing importance in the +West, and should meet him at the station. Mr. Beazley +zealously waited upon the paternal Thompson without +delay, and together making their observations from the +window, they beheld a cab of many boxes, into which +Ripton darted and was followed by one in groom's dress. +It was Saturday, the day when Ripton gave up his law-readings, +magnanimously to bestow himself upon his +family, and Mr. Thompson liked to have his son's arm as +he walked down to the station; but that third glass of +Port which always stood for his second, and the groom's +suggestion of aristocratic acquaintances, prevented Mr. +Thompson from interfering: so Ripton was permitted to +depart.</p> + +<p>In the cab Ripton made a study of the letter he held. +It had the preciseness of an imperial mandate.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Ripton</span>,—You are to get lodgings for a lady +immediately. Not a word to a soul. Then come along +with Tom.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right">R. D. F." +</p></blockquote><br /> + +<p>"Lodgings for a lady!" Ripton meditated aloud: "What +sort of lodgings? Where am I to get lodgings? Who's +the lady?—I say!" he addressed the mysterious messenger. +"So you're Tom Bakewell, are you, Tom?"</p> + +<p>Tom grinned his identity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you remember the rick, Tom? Ha! ha! We got +out of that neatly. We might all have been transported, +though. I could have convicted you, Tom, safe! It's no +use coming across a practised lawyer. Now tell me." +Ripton having nourished his powers, commenced his examination: +"Who's this lady?"</p> + +<p>"Better wait till you see Mr. Richard, sir," Tom resumed +his scowl to reply.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Ripton acquiesced. "Is she young, Tom?"</p> + +<p>Tom said she was not old.</p> + +<p>"Handsome, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Some might think one thing, some another," Tom +said.</p> + +<p>"And where does she come from now?" asked Ripton +with the friendly cheerfulness of a baffled counsellor.</p> + +<p>"Comes from the country, sir."</p> + +<p>"A friend of the family, I suppose? a relation?"</p> + +<p>Ripton left this insinuating query to be answered by a +look. Tom's face was a dead blank.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Ripton took a breath, and eyed the mask opposite +him. "Why, you're quite a scholar, Tom! Mr. +Richard is well? All right at home?"</p> + +<p>"Come to town this mornin' with his uncle," said Tom. +"All well, thank ye, sir."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" cried Ripton, more than ever puzzled, "now I +see. You all came to town to-day, and these are your +boxes outside. So, so! But Mr. Richard writes for me to +get lodgings for a lady. There must be some mistake—he +wrote in a hurry. He wants lodgings for you all—eh?"</p> + +<p>"'M sure I d'n know what he wants," said Tom. "You'd +better go by the letter, sir."</p> + +<p>Ripton re-consulted that document. "'Lodgings for a +lady, and then come along with Tom. Not a word to a +soul.' I say! that looks like—but he never cared for +<i>them</i>. You don't mean to say, Tom, he's been running +away with anybody?"</p> + +<p>Tom fell back upon his first reply: "Better wait till ye +see Mr. Richard, sir," and Ripton exclaimed: "Hanged if +you ain't the tightest witness I ever saw! I shouldn't +like to have you in a box. Some of you country fellows +beat any number of cockneys. You do!"</p> + +<p>Tom received the compliment stubbornly on his guard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +and Ripton, as nothing was to be got out of him, set about +considering how to perform his friend's injunctions; deciding +firstly, that a lady fresh from the country ought to +lodge near the parks, in which direction he told the cabman +to drive. Thus, unaware of his high destiny, Ripton +joined the hero, and accepted his character in the New +Comedy.</p> + +<p>It is, nevertheless, true that certain favoured people do +have beneficent omens to prepare them for their parts +when the hero is in full career, so that they really may +be nerved to meet him; ay, and to check him in his course, +had they that signal courage. For instance, Mrs. Elizabeth +Berry, a ripe and wholesome landlady of advertised +lodgings, on the borders of Kensington, noted, as she sat +rocking her contemplative person before the parlour fire +this very March afternoon, a supernatural tendency in +that fire to burn <i>all on one side</i>: which signifies that a +wedding approaches the house. Why—who shall say? +Omens are as impassable as heroes. It may be because in +these affairs the fire is thought to be all on one side. +Enough that the omen exists, and spoke its solemn warning +to the devout woman. Mrs. Berry, in her circle, was +known as a certified lecturer against the snares of matrimony. +Still that was no reason why she should not like a +wedding. Expectant, therefore, she watched the one glowing +cheek of Hymen, and with pleasing tremours beheld +a cab of many boxes draw up by her bit of garden, and a +gentleman emerge from it in the act of consulting an advertisement +paper. The gentleman required lodgings for +a lady. Lodgings for a lady Mrs. Berry could produce, +and a very roseate smile for a gentleman; so much so that +Ripton forgot to ask about the terms, which made the +landlady in Mrs. Berry leap up to embrace him as the +happy man. But her experienced woman's eye checked +her enthusiasm. He had not the air of a bridegroom: +he did not seem to have a weight on his chest, or an itch +to twiddle everything with his fingers. At any rate, he +was not the bridegroom for whom omens fly abroad. +Promising to have all ready for the lady within an hour, +Mrs. Berry fortified him with her card, curtsied him back +to his cab, and floated him off on her smiles.</p> + +<p>The remarkable vehicle which had woven this thread of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +intrigue through London streets, now proceeded sedately +to finish its operations. Ripton was landed at a hotel in +Westminster. Ere he was half-way up the stairs, a door +opened, and his old comrade in adventure rushed down. +Richard allowed up time for salutations. "Have you done +it?" was all he asked. For answer Ripton handed him +Mrs. Berry's card. Richard took it, and left him standing +there. Five minutes elapsed, and then Ripton heard the +gracious rustle of feminine garments above. Richard +came a little in advance, leading and half supporting a +figure in a black-silk mantle and small black straw bonnet; +young—that was certain, though she held her veil so close +he could hardly catch the outlines of her face; girlishly +slender, and sweet and simple in appearance. The hush +that came with her, and her soft manner of moving, stirred +the silly youth to some of those ardours that awaken the +Knight of Dames in our bosoms. He felt that he would +have given considerable sums for her to lift her veil. He +could see that she was trembling—perhaps weeping. It +was the master of her fate she clung to. They passed +him without speaking. As she went by, her head passively +bent, Ripton had a glimpse of noble tresses and a lovely +neck; great golden curls hung loosely behind, pouring +from under her bonnet. She looked a captive borne to the +sacrifice. What Ripton, after a sight of those curls, would +have given for her just to lift her veil an instant and +strike him blind with beauty, was, fortunately for his +exchequer, never demanded of him. And he had absolutely +been composing speeches as he came along in the +cab! gallant speeches for the lady, and sly congratulatory +ones for his friend, to be delivered as occasion should +serve, that both might know him a man of the world, and +be at their ease. He forgot the smirking immoralities +he had revelled in. This was clearly serious. Ripton did +not require to be told that his friend was in love, and +meant that life and death business called marriage, parents +and guardians consenting or not.</p> + +<p>Presently Richard returned to him, and said hurriedly, +"I want you now to go to my uncle at our hotel. Keep +him quiet till I come. Say I had to see you—say anything. +I shall be there by the dinner hour. Rip! I +must talk to you alone after dinner."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ripton feebly attempted to reply that he was due at +home. He was very curious to hear the plot of the New +Comedy; and besides, there was Richard's face questioning +him sternly and confidently for signs of unhesitating +obedience. He finished his grimaces by asking the name +and direction of the hotel. Richard pressed his hand. +It is much to obtain even that recognition of our devotion +from the hero.</p> + +<p>Tom Bakewell also received his priming, and, to judge +by his chuckles and grins, rather appeared to enjoy the +work cut out for him. In a few minutes they had driven +to their separate destinations; Ripton was left to the unusual +exercise of his fancy. Such is the nature of youth +and its thirst for romance, that only to act as a subordinate +is pleasant. When one unfurls the standard of defiance +to parents and guardians, he may be sure of raising +a lawless troop of adolescent ruffians, born rebels, to any +amount. The beardless crew know that they have not a +chance of pay; but what of that when the rosy prospect +of thwarting their elders is in view? Though it is to see +another eat the Forbidden Fruit, they will run all his +risks with him. Gaily Ripton took rank as lieutenant +in the enterprise, and the moment his heart had sworn +the oaths, he was rewarded by an exquisite sense of the +charms of existence. London streets wore a sly laugh to +him. He walked with a dandified heel. The generous +youth ogled aristocratic carriages, and glanced intimately +at the ladies, overflowingly happy. The crossing-sweepers +blessed him. He hummed lively tunes, he turned over +old jokes in his mouth unctuously, he hugged himself, he +had a mind to dance down Piccadilly, and all because a +friend of his was running away with a pretty girl, and +he was in the secret.</p> + +<p>It was only when he stood on the door-step of Richard's +hotel, that his jocund mood was a little dashed by remembering +that he had then to commence the duties of his +office, and must fabricate a plausible story to account for +what he knew nothing about—a part that the greatest +of sages would find it difficult to perform. The young, +however, whom sages well may envy, seldom fail in lifting +their inventive faculties to the level of their spirits, +and two minutes of Hippias's angry complaints against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +the friend he serenely inquired for, gave Ripton his +cue.</p> + +<p>"We're in the very street—within a stone's-throw of +the house, and he jumps like a harlequin out of my cab +into another; he must be mad—that boy's got madness in +him!—and carries off all the boxes—my dinner-pills, too! +and keeps away the whole of the day, though he promised +to go to the doctor, and had a dozen engagements with +me," said Hippias, venting an enraged snarl to sum up +his grievances.</p> + +<p>Ripton at once told him that the doctor was not at +home.</p> + +<p>"Why, you don't mean to say he's been to the doctor?" +Hippias cried out.</p> + +<p>"He has called on him twice, sir," said Ripton, expressively. +"On leaving me he was going a third time. I +shouldn't wonder that's what detains him—he's so determined."</p> + +<p>By fine degrees Ripton ventured to grow circumstantial, +saying that Richard's case was urgent and required immediate +medical advice; and that both he and his father +were of opinion Richard should not lose an hour in obtaining +it.</p> + +<p>"He's alarmed about himself," said Ripton, and tapped +his chest.</p> + +<p>Hippias protested he had never heard a word from his +nephew of any physical affliction.</p> + +<p>"He was afraid of making you anxious, I think, sir."</p> + +<p>Algernon Feverel and Richard came in while he was +hammering at the alphabet to recollect the first letter of +the doctor's name. They had met in the hall below, and +were laughing heartily as they entered the room. Ripton +jumped up to get the initiative.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen the doctor?" he asked, significantly +plucking at Richard's fingers.</p> + +<p>Richard was all abroad at the question.</p> + +<p>Algernon clapped him on the back. "What the deuce +do you want with doctor, boy?"</p> + +<p>The solid thump awakened him to see matters as they +were. "Oh, ay! the doctor!" he said, smiling frankly at +his lieutenant. "Why, he tells me he'd back me to do +Milo's trick in a week from the present day.—Uncle," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +came forward to Hippias, "I hope you'll excuse me for +running off as I did. I was in a hurry. I left something +at the railway. This stupid Rip thinks I went to the +doctor about myself. The fact was, I wanted to fetch +the doctor to see you here—so that you might have no +trouble, you know. You can't bear the sight of his instruments +and skeletons—I've heard you say so. You +said it set all your marrow in revolt—'fried your marrow,' +I think were the words, and made you see twenty +thousand different ways of sliding down to the chambers +of the Grim King. Don't you remember?"</p> + +<p>Hippias emphatically did not remember, and he did not +believe the story. Irritation at the mad ravishment of his +pill-box rendered him incredulous. As he had no means +of confuting his nephew, all he could do safely to express +his disbelief in him, was to utter petulant remarks on his +powerlessness to appear at the dinner-table that day: upon +which—Berry just then trumpeting dinner—Algernon +seized one arm of the Dyspepsy, and Richard another, and +the laughing couple bore him into the room where dinner +was laid, Ripton sniggering in the rear, the really happy +man of the party.</p> + +<p>They had fun at the dinner-table. Richard would have +it; and his gaiety, his by-play, his princely superiority to +truth and heroic promise of over-riding all our laws, his +handsome face, the lord and possessor of beauty that he +looked, as it were a star shining on his forehead, gained +the old complete mastery over Ripton, who had been, +mentally at least, half patronizing him till then, because +he knew more of London and life, and was aware that his +friend now depended upon him almost entirely.</p> + +<p>After a second circle of the claret, the hero caught his +lieutenant's eye across the table, and said:</p> + +<p>"We must go out and talk over that law-business, Rip, +before you go. Do you think the old lady has any +chance?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit!" said Ripton, authoritatively.</p> + +<p>"But it's worth fighting—eh, Rip?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly!" was Ripton's mature opinion.</p> + +<p>Richard observed that Ripton's father seemed doubtful. +Ripton cited his father's habitual caution. Richard made +a playful remark on the necessity of sometimes acting in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +opposition to fathers. Ripton agreed to it—in certain +cases.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! in certain cases," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"Pretty legal morality, gentlemen!" Algernon interjected; +Hippias adding: "And lay, too!"</p> + +<p>The pair of uncles listened further to the fictitious dialogue, +well kept up on both sides, and in the end desired +a statement of the old lady's garrulous case; Hippias +offering to decide what her chances were in law, and Algernon +to give a common-sense judgment.</p> + +<p>"Rip will tell you," said Richard, deferentially signalling +the lawyer. "I've a bad hand at these matters. Tell +them how it stands, Rip."</p> + +<p>Ripton disguised his excessive uneasiness under endeavours +to right his position on his chair, and, inwardly praying +speed to the claret jug to come and strengthen his +wits, began with a careless aspect: "Oh, nothing! She—very +curious old character! She—a—wears a wig. She—a—very +curious old character indeed! She—a—quite the +old style. There's no doing anything with her!" and +Ripton took a long breath to relieve himself after his +elaborate fiction.</p> + +<p>"So it appears," Hippias commented, and Algernon +asked: "Well? and about her wig? Somebody stole it?" +while Richard, whose features were grim with suppressed +laughter, bade the narrator continue.</p> + +<p>Ripton lunged for the claret jug. He had got an old +lady like an oppressive bundle on his brain, and he was as +helpless as she was. In the pangs of ineffectual authorship +his ideas shot at her wig, and then at her one characteristic +of extreme obstinacy, and tore back again at her +wig, but she would not be animated. The obstinate old +thing would remain a bundle. Law studies seemed light +in comparison with this tremendous task of changing an +old lady from a doll to a human creature. He flung off +some claret, perspired freely, and, with a mental tribute +to the cleverness of those author fellows, recommenced: +"Oh, nothing! She—Richard knows her better than I +do—an old lady—somewhere down in Suffolk. I think +we had better advise her not to proceed. The expenses +of litigation are enormous! She—I think we had better +advise her to stop short, and not make any scandal."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And not make any scandal!" Algernon took him up. +"Come, come! there's something more than a wig, then?"</p> + +<p>Ripton was commanded to proceed, whether she did or +no. The luckless fictionist looked straight at his pitiless +leader, and blurted out dubiously, "She—there's a daughter."</p> + +<p>"Born with effort!" ejaculated Hippias. "Must give +her pause after that! and I'll take the opportunity to +stretch my length on the sofa. Heigho! that's true what +Austin says: 'The general prayer should be for a full +stomach, and the individual for one that works well; for +on that basis only are we a match for temporal matters, +and able to contemplate eternal.' Sententious, but true. +I gave him the idea, though! Take care of your stomachs, +boys! and if ever you hear of a monument proposed to a +scientific cook or gastronomic doctor, send in your subscriptions. +Or say to him while he lives, Go forth, and be +a Knight. Ha! They have a good cook at this house. +He suits me better than ours at Raynham. I almost wish +I had brought my manuscript to town, I feel so much +better. Aha! I didn't expect to digest at all without my +regular incentive. I think I shall give it up.—What do +you say to the theatre to-night, boys!"</p> + +<p>Richard shouted, "Bravo, uncle!"</p> + +<p>"Let Mr. Thompson finish first," said Algernon. "I +want to hear the conclusion of the story. The old girl +has a wig and a daughter. I'll swear somebody runs away +with one of the two! Fill your glass, Mr. Thompson, and +forward!"</p> + +<p>"So somebody does," Ripton received his impetus. "And +they're found in town together," he made a fresh jerk. +"She—a—that is, the old lady—found them in company."</p> + +<p>"She finds him with her wig on in company!" said +Algernon. "Capital! Here's matter for the lawyers!"</p> + +<p>"And you advise her not to proceed, under such circumstances +of aggravation?" Hippias observed, humorously +twinkling with his stomachic contentment.</p> + +<p>"It's the daughter," Ripton sighed, and surrendering to +pressure, hurried on recklessly, "A runaway match—beautiful +girl!—the only son of a baronet—married by special +licence. A—the point is," he now brightened and spoke +from his own element, "the point is whether the marriage +can be annulled, as she's of the Catholic persuasion and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +he's a Protestant, and they're both married under age. +That's the point."</p> + +<p>Having come to the point he breathed extreme relief, +and saw things more distinctly; not a little amazed at his +leader's horrified face.</p> + +<p>The two elders were making various absurd inquiries, +when Richard sent his chair to the floor, crying, "What +a muddle you're in, Rip! You're mixing half-a-dozen +stories together. The old lady I told you about was old +Dame Bakewell, and the dispute was concerning a neighbour +of hers who encroached on her garden, and I said +I'd pay the money to see her righted!"</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Ripton, humbly, "I was thinking of the other. +Her garden! Cabbages don't interest me"——</p> + +<p>"Here, come along," Richard beckoned to him savagely. +"I'll be back in five minutes, uncle," he nodded coolly to +either.</p> + +<p>The young men left the room. In the hall-passage they +met Berry, dressed to return to Raynham. Richard +dropped a helper to the intelligence into his hand, and +warned him not to gossip much of London. Berry bowed +perfect discreetness.</p> + +<p>"What on earth induced you to talk about Protestants +and Catholics marrying, Rip?" said Richard, as soon as +they were in the street.</p> + +<p>"Why," Ripton answered, "I was so hard pushed for it, +'pon my honour, I didn't know what to say. I ain't an +author, you know; I can't make a story. I was trying to +invent a point, and I couldn't think of any other, and I +thought that was just the point likely to make a jolly +good dispute. Capital dinners they give at those crack +hotels. Why did you throw it all upon me? I didn't +begin on the old lady."</p> + +<p>The hero mused, "It's odd! It's impossible you could +have known! I'll tell you why, Rip! I wanted to try +you. You fib well at long range, but you don't do at close +quarters and single combat. You're good behind walls, +but not worth a shot in the open. I just see what you're +fit for. You're staunch—that I am certain of. You always +were. Lead the way to one of the parks—down in +that direction. You know?—where she is!"</p> + +<p>Ripton led the way. His dinner had prepared this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +young Englishman to defy the whole artillery of established +morals. With the muffled roar of London around +them, alone in a dark slope of green, the hero, leaning +on his henchman, and speaking in a harsh clear undertone, +delivered his explanations. Doubtless the true heroic +insignia and point of view will be discerned, albeit in +common private's uniform.</p> + +<p>"They've been plotting against me for a year, Rip! +When you see her, you'll know what it was to have such +a creature taken away from you. It nearly killed me. +Never mind what she is. She's the most perfect and noble +creature God ever made! It's not only her beauty—I +don't care so much about that!—but when you've once +seen her, she seems to draw music from all the nerves +of your body; but she's such an angel. I worship her. +And her mind's like her face. She's pure gold. There, +you'll see her to-night.</p> + +<p>"Well," he pursued, after inflating Ripton with this rapturous +prospect, "they got her away, and I recovered. It +was Mister Adrian's work. What's my father's objection +to her? Because of her birth? She's educated; her manners +are beautiful—full of refinement—quick and soft! +Can they show me one of their ladies like her?—she's the +daughter of a naval lieutenant! Because she's a Catholic? +What has religion to do with"—he pronounced "Love!" a +little modestly—as it were a blush in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, when I recovered I thought I did not care for +her. It shows how we know ourselves! And I cared +for nothing. I felt as if I had no blood. I tried to +imitate my dear Austin. I wish to God he were +here. I love Austin. He would understand her. He's +coming back this year, and then—but it'll be too late +then.—Well, my father's always scheming to make me +perfect—he has never spoken to me a word about her, +but I can see her in his eyes—he wanted to give me a +change, he said, and asked me to come to town with +my uncle Hippy, and I consented. It was another plot to +get me out of the way! As I live, I had no more idea +of meeting her than of flying to heaven!"</p> + +<p>He lifted his face. "Look at those old elm branches! +How they seem to mix among the stars!—glittering; fruits +of Winter!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ripton tipped his comical nose upward, and was in duty +bound to say, Yes! though he observed no connection +between them and the narrative.</p> + +<p>"Well," the hero went on, "I came to town. There I +heard she was coming, too—coming home. It must have +been fate, Ripton! Heaven forgive me! I was angry with +her, and I thought I should like to see her once—only +once—and reproach her for being false—for she never +wrote to me. And, oh, the dear angel! what she must have +suffered!—I gave my uncle the slip, and got to the railway +she was coming by. There was a fellow going to meet +her—a farmer's son—and, good God! they were going to +try and make her marry him! I remembered it all then. +A servant of the farm had told me. That fellow went +to the wrong station, I suppose, for we saw nothing of +him. There she was—not changed a bit!—looking lovelier +than ever! And when she saw me, I knew in a minute +that she must love me till death!—You don't know what +it is yet, Rip!—Will you believe it?—Though I was as +sure she loved me and had been true as steel, as that I +shall see her to-night, I spoke bitterly to her. And she +bore it meekly—she looked like a saint. I told her there +was but one hope of life for me—she must prove she was +true, and as I give up all, so must she. I don't know +what I said. The thought of losing her made me mad. +She tried to plead with me to wait—it was for my sake, +I know. I pretended, like a miserable hypocrite, that +she did not love me at all. I think I said shameful things. +Oh what noble creatures women are! She hardly had +strength to move. I took her to that place where you +found us.—Rip! she went down on her knees to me. I +never dreamed of anything in life so lovely as she looked +then. Her eyes were thrown up, bright with a crowd of +tears—her dark brows bent together, like Pain and Beauty +meeting in one; and her glorious golden hair swept off +her shoulders as she hung forward to my hands.—Could +I lose such a prize?—If anything could have persuaded +me, would not that?—I thought of Dante's Madonna—Guido's +Magdalen.—Is there sin in it? I see none! And +if there is, it's all mine! I swear she's spotless of a +thought of sin. I see her very soul! Cease to love her? +Who dares ask me? Cease to love her? Why, I live on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +her!—To see her little chin straining up from her throat, +as she knelt to me!—there was one curl that fell across +her throat"....</p> + +<p>Ripton listened for more. Richard had gone off in a +muse at the picture.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Ripton, "and how about that young farmer +fellow?"</p> + +<p>The hero's head was again contemplating the starry +branches. His lieutenant's question came to him after an +interval.</p> + +<p>"Young Tom? Why, it's young Tom Blaize—son of +our old enemy, Rip! I like the old man now. Oh! I saw +nothing of the fellow."</p> + +<p>"Lord!" cried Ripton, "are we going to get into a mess +with Blaizes again? I don't like that!"</p> + +<p>His commander quietly passed his likes or dislikes.</p> + +<p>"But when he goes to the train, and finds she's not +there?" Ripton suggested.</p> + +<p>"I've provided for that. The fool went to the South-east +instead of the South-west. All warmth, all sweetness, +comes with the South-west!—I've provided for that, +friend Rip. My trusty Tom awaits him there, as if by +accident. He tells him he has not seen her, and advises +him to remain in town, and go for her there to-morrow, +and the day following. Tom has money for the work. +Young Tom ought to see London, you know, Rip!—like +you. We shall gain some good clear days. And when +old Blaize hears of it—what then? I have her! she's +mine!—Besides, he won't hear for a week. This Tom +beats that Tom in cunning, I'll wager. Ha! ha!" the hero +burst out at a recollection. "What do you think, Rip? +My father has some sort of System with me, it appears, +and when I came to town the time before, he took me +to some people—the Grandisons—and what do you think? +one of the daughters is a little girl—a nice little thing +enough—very funny—and he wants me to wait for her! +He hasn't said so, but I know it. I know what he means. +Nobody understands him but me. I know he loves me, +and is one of the best of men—but just consider!—a +<i>little girl</i> who just comes up to my elbow. Isn't it +ridiculous? Did you ever hear such nonsense?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ripton emphasized his opinion that it certainly was +foolish.</p> + +<p>"No, no! The die's cast!" said Richard. "They've been +plotting for a year up to this day, and this is what comes +of it! If my father loves me, he will love her. And if +he loves me, he'll forgive my acting against his wishes, +and see it was the only thing to be done. Come! step +out! what a time we've been!" and away he went, compelling +Ripton to the sort of strides a drummer-boy has +to take beside a column of grenadiers.</p> + +<p>Ripton began to wish himself in love, seeing that it +endowed a man with wind so that he could breathe great +sighs, while going at a tremendous pace, and experience +no sensation of fatigue. The hero was communing with +the elements, his familiars, and allowed him to pant as +he pleased. Some keen-eyed Kensington urchins, noticing +the discrepancy between the pedestrian powers of the +two, aimed their wit at Mr. Thompson junior's expense. +The pace, and nothing but the pace, induced Ripton to +proclaim that they had gone too far, when they discovered +that they had overshot the mark by half a mile. +In the street over which stood love's star, the hero +thundered his presence at a door, and evoked a flying +housemaid, who knew not Mrs. Berry. The hero attached +significance to the fact that his instincts should have betrayed +him, for he could have sworn to that house. The +door being shut he stood in dead silence.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you got her card?" Ripton inquired, and heard +that it was in the custody of the cabman. Neither of +them could positively bring to mind the number of the +house.</p> + +<p>"You ought to have chalked it, like that fellow in the +Forty Thieves," Ripton hazarded a pleasantry which met +with no response.</p> + +<p>Betrayed by his instincts, the magic slaves of Love! +The hero heavily descended the steps.</p> + +<p>Ripton murmured that they were done for. His commander +turned on him, and said: "Take all the houses +on the opposite side, one after another. I'll take these." +With a wry face Ripton crossed the road, altogether subdued +by Richard's native superiority to adverse circumstances.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then were families aroused. Then did mortals dimly +guess that something portentous was abroad. Then were +labourers all day in the vineyard, harshly wakened from +their evening's nap. Hope and Fear stalked the street, +as again and again the loud companion summonses resounded. +Finally Ripton sang out cheerfully. He had +Mrs. Berry before him, profuse of mellow curtsies.</p> + +<p>Richard ran to her and caught her hands: "She's +well?—upstairs?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite well! only a trifle tired with her journey, and +fluttering-like," Mrs. Berry replied to Ripton alone. The +lover had flown aloft.</p> + +<p>The wise woman sagely ushered Ripton into her own +private parlour, there to wait till he was wanted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>CONTAINS AN INTERCESSION FOR THE HEROINE</h3> + + +<p>"In all cases where two have joined to commit an offence, +punish one of the two lightly," is the dictum of +<span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>.</p><br /> + + + +<p>It is possible for young heads to conceive proper plans +of action, and occasionally, by sheer force of will, to check +the wild horses that are ever fretting to gallop off with +them. But when they have given the reins and the whip +to another, what are they to do? They may go down +on their knees, and beg and pray the furious charioteer +to stop, or moderate his pace. Alas! each fresh thing +they do redoubles his ardour. There is a power in their +troubled beauty women learn the use of, and what wonder? +They have seen it kindle Ilium to flames so often! But +ere they grow matronly in the house of Menelaus, they +weep, and implore, and do not, in truth, know how terribly +two-edged is their gift of loveliness. They resign +themselves to an incomprehensible frenzy; pleasant to +them, because they attribute it to excessive love. And so +the very sensible things which they can and do say, are +vain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>I reckon it absurd to ask them to be quite in earnest. +Are not those their own horses in yonder team? Certainly, +if they were quite in earnest, they might soon have +my gentleman as sober as a carter. A hundred different +ways of disenchanting him exist, and Adrian will point +you out one or two that shall be instantly efficacious. +For Love, the charioteer, is easily tripped, while honest +jog-trot Love keeps his legs to the end. Granted dear +women are not quite in earnest, still the mere words +they utter should be put to their good account. They +do mean them, though their hearts are set the wrong +way. 'Tis a despairing, pathetic homage to the judgment +of the majority, in whose faces they are flying. +Punish Helen, very young, lightly. After a certain age +you may select her for special chastisement. An innocent +with Theseus, with Paris she is an advanced incendiary.</p> + +<p>The fair young girl was sitting as her lover had left +her; trying to recall her stunned senses. Her bonnet +was unremoved, her hands clasped on her knees; dry tears +in her eyes. Like a dutiful slave, she rose to him. And +first he claimed her mouth. There was a speech, made +up of all the pretty wisdom her wild situation and true +love could gather, awaiting him there; but his kiss scattered +it to fragments. She dropped to her seat weeping, +and hiding her shamed cheeks.</p> + +<p>By his silence she divined his thoughts, and took his +hand and drew it to her lips.</p> + +<p>He bent beside her, bidding her look at him.</p> + +<p>"Keep your eyes so."</p> + +<p>She could not.</p> + +<p>"Do you fear me, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>A throbbing pressure answered him.</p> + +<p>"Do you love me, darling?"</p> + +<p>She trembled from head to foot.</p> + +<p>"Then why do you turn from me?"</p> + +<p>She wept: "O Richard, take me home! take me home!"</p> + +<p>"Look at me, Lucy!"</p> + +<p>Her head shrank timidly round.</p> + +<p>"Keep your eyes on me, darling! Now speak!"</p> + +<p>But she could not look and speak too. The lover knew +his mastery when he had her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You wish me to take you home?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>She faltered: "O Richard? it is not too late."</p> + +<p>"You regret what you have done for me?"</p> + +<p>"Dearest! it is ruin."</p> + +<p>"You weep because you have consented to be mine?"</p> + +<p>"Not for me! O Richard!"</p> + +<p>"For me you weep? Look at me! For me?"</p> + +<p>"How will it end! O Richard!"</p> + +<p>"You weep for me?"</p> + +<p>"Dearest! I would die for you!"</p> + +<p>"Would you see me indifferent to everything in the +world? Would you have me lost? Do you think I will +live another day in England without you? I have staked +all I have on you, Lucy. You have nearly killed me +once. A second time, and the earth will not be troubled +by me. You ask me to wait, when they are plotting +against us on all sides? Darling Lucy! look on me. Fix +your fond eyes on me. You ask me to wait when here +you are given to me—when you have proved my faith—when +we know we love as none have loved. Give me your +eyes! Let them tell me I have your heart!"</p> + +<p>Where was her wise little speech? How could she +match such mighty eloquence? She sought to collect a +few more of the scattered fragments.</p> + +<p>"Dearest! your father may be brought to consent by +and by, and then—oh! if you take me home now"——</p> + +<p>The lover stood up. "He who has been arranging that +fine scheme to disgrace and martyrize you? True, as I +live! that's the reason of their having you back. Your +old servant heard him and your uncle discussing it. He!—Lucy! +he's a good man, but he must not step in between +you and me. I say God has given you to me."</p> + +<p>He was down by her side again, his arms enfolding her.</p> + +<p>She had hoped to fight a better battle than in the morning, +and she was weaker and softer.</p> + +<p>Ah! why should she doubt that his great love was the +first law to her? Why should she not believe that she +would wreck him by resisting? And if she suffered, oh +sweet to think it was for his sake! Sweet to shut out +wisdom; accept total blindness, and be led by him!</p> + +<p>The hag Wisdom annoyed them little further. She +rustled her garments ominously, and vanished.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my own Richard!" the fair girl just breathed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>He whispered, "Call me that name."</p> + +<p>She blushed deeply.</p> + +<p>"Call me that name," he repeated. "You said it once +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Dearest!"</p> + +<p>"Not that."</p> + +<p>"O darling!"</p> + +<p>"Not that."</p> + +<p>"Husband!"</p> + +<p>She was won. The rosy gate from which the word had +issued was closed with a seal.</p> + +<p>Ripton did not enjoy his introduction to the caged bird +of beauty that night. He received a lesson in the art of +pumping from the worthy landlady below, up to an hour +when she yawned, and he blinked, and their common +candle wore with dignity the brigand's hat of midnight, +and cocked a drunken eye at them from under it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>RELATES HOW PREPARATIONS FOR ACTION WERE +CONDUCTED UNDER THE APRIL OF LOVERS</h3> + + +<p>Beauty, of course, is for the hero. Nevertheless, it is +not always he on whom beauty works its most conquering +influence. It is the dull commonplace man into whose +slow brain she drops like a celestial light, and burns +lastingly. The poet, for instance, is a connoisseur of +beauty: to the artist she is a model. These gentlemen by +much contemplation of her charms wax critical. The +days when they had hearts being gone, they are haply +divided between the blonde and the brunette; the aquiline +nose and the Proserpine; this shaped eye and that. But +go about among simple unprofessional fellows, boors, +dunderheads, and here and there you shall find some +barbarous intelligence which has had just enough to +conceive, and has taken Beauty as its Goddess, and knows +but one form to worship, in its poor stupid fashion, and +would perish for her. Nay, more: the man would devote +all his days to her, though he is dumb as a dog. And,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +indeed, he is Beauty's Dog. Almost every Beauty has +her Dog. The hero possesses her; the poet proclaims her; +the painter puts her upon canvas; and the faithful Old +Dog follows her: and the end of it all is that the faithful +Old Dog is her single attendant. Sir Hero is revelling +in the wars, or in Armida's bowers; Mr. Poet has spied +a wrinkle; the brush is for the rose in its season. She +turns to her Old Dog then. She hugs him; and he, who has +subsisted on a bone and a pat till there he squats decrepit, +he turns his grateful old eyes up to her, and has not +a notion that she is hugging sad memories in him: Hero, +Poet, Painter, in one scrubby one! Then is she buried, +and the village hears languid howls, and there is a paragraph +in the newspapers concerning the extraordinary +fidelity of an Old Dog.</p> + +<p>Excited by suggestive recollections of Nooredeen and +the Fair Persian, and the change in the obscure monotony +of his life by his having quarters in a crack hotel, and +living familiarly with West-End people—living on the fat +of the land (which forms a stout portion of an honest +youth's romance), Ripton Thompson breakfasted next +morning with his chief at half-past eight. The meal had +been fixed overnight for seven, but Ripton slept a great +deal more than the nightingale, and (to chronicle his +exact state) even half-past eight rather afflicted his new +aristocratic senses and reminded him too keenly of law +and bondage. He had preferred to breakfast at Algernon's +hour, who had left word for eleven. Him, however, +it was Richard's object to avoid, so they fell to, +and Ripton no longer envied Hippias in bed. Breakfast +done, they bequeathed the consoling information for Algernon +that they were off to hear a popular preacher, +and departed.</p> + +<p>"How happy everybody looks!" said Richard, in the +quiet Sunday streets.</p> + +<p>"Yes—jolly!" said Ripton.</p> + +<p>"When I'm—when this is over, I'll see that they are, +too—as many as I can make happy," said the hero; +adding softly: "Her blind was down at a quarter to six. +I think she slept well!"</p> + +<p>"You've been there this morning?" Ripton exclaimed; +and an idea of what love was dawned upon his dull brain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Will she see me, Ricky?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She'll see you to-day. She was tired last night."</p> + +<p>"Positively?"</p> + +<p>Richard assured him that the privilege would be his.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said, coming under some trees in the park, +"here's where I talked to you last night. What a time +it seems! How I hate the night!"</p> + +<p>On the way, that Richard might have an exalted opinion +of him, Ripton hinted decorously at a somewhat intimate +and mysterious acquaintance with the sex. Headings of +certain random adventures he gave.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said his chief, "why not marry her?"</p> + +<p>Then was Ripton shocked, and cried, "Oh!" and had a +taste of the feeling of superiority, destined that day to +be crushed utterly.</p> + +<p>He was again deposited in Mrs. Berry's charge for a +term that caused him dismal fears that the Fair Persian +still refused to show her face, but Richard called out to +him, and up Ripton went, unaware of the transformation +he was to undergo. Hero and Beauty stood together to +receive him. From the bottom of the stairs he had his +vivaciously agreeable smile ready for them, and by the +time he entered the room his cheeks were painfully stiff, +and his eyes had strained beyond their exact meaning. +Lucy, with one hand anchored to her lover, welcomed +him kindly. He relieved her shyness by looking so extremely +silly. They sat down, and tried to commence a +conversation, but Ripton was as little master of his tongue +as he was of his eyes. After an interval, the Fair Persian +having done duty by showing herself, was glad to quit +the room. Her lord and possessor then turned inquiringly +to Ripton.</p> + +<p>"You don't wonder now, Rip?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, Richard!" Ripton waited to reply with sufficient +solemnity, "indeed I don't!"</p> + +<p>He spoke differently; he looked differently. He had the +Old Dog's eyes in his head. They watched the door she +had passed through; they listened for her, as dogs' eyes +do. When she came in, bonneted for a walk, his agitation +was dog-like. When she hung on her lover timidly, +and went forth, he followed without an idea of envy, or +anything save the secret raptures the sight of her gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +him, which are the Old Dog's own. For beneficent Nature +requites him. His sensations cannot be heroic, but they +have a fulness and a wagging delight as good in their +way. And this capacity for humble unaspiring worship +has its peculiar guerdon. When Ripton comes to think of +Miss Random now, what will he think of himself? Let +no one despise the Old Dog. Through him doth Beauty +vindicate her sex.</p> + +<p>It did not please Ripton that others should have the +bliss of beholding her, and as, to his perceptions, everybody +did, and observed her offensively, and stared, and +turned their heads back, and interchanged comments on +her, and became in a minute madly in love with her, he +had to smother low growls. They strolled about the +pleasant gardens of Kensington all the morning, under +the young chestnut buds, and round the windless waters, +talking, and soothing the wild excitement of their hearts. +If Lucy spoke, Ripton pricked up his ears. She, too, +made the remark that everybody seemed to look happy, +and he heard it with thrills of joy. "So everybody is, +where you are!" he would have wished to say, if he +dared, but was restrained by fears that his burning eloquence +would commit him. Ripton knew the people he +met twice. It would have been difficult to persuade him +they were the creatures of accident.</p> + +<p>From the Gardens, in contempt of Ripton's frowned +protest, Richard boldly struck into the park, where solitary +carriages were beginning to perform the circuit. +Here Ripton had some justification for his jealous pangs. +The young girl's golden locks of hair; her sweet, now +dreamily sad, face; her gentle graceful figure in the black +straight dress she wore; a sort of half-conventional air +she had—a mark of something not of class, that was +partly beauty's, partly maiden innocence growing conscious, +partly remorse at her weakness and dim fear of +the future it was sowing—did attract the eye-glasses. +Ripton had to learn that eyes are bearable, but eye-glasses +an abomination. They fixed a spell upon his courage; +for somehow the youth had always ranked them as +emblems of our nobility, and hearing two exquisite eye-glasses, +who had been to front and rear several times, drawl +in gibberish generally imputed to lords, that his heroine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +was a charming little creature, just the size, but had +no style,—he was abashed; he did not fly at them and +tear them. He became dejected. Beauty's dog is affected +by the eye-glass in a manner not unlike the common +animal's terror of the human eye.</p> + +<p>Richard appeared to hear nothing, or it was homage +that he heard. He repeated to Lucy Diaper Sandoe's +verses—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The cockneys nod to each other aside,<br /></span> +<span>The coxcombs lift their glasses,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and projected hiring a horse for her to ride every day in +the park, and shine among the highest.</p> + +<p>They had turned to the West, against the sky glittering +through the bare trees across the water, and the bright-edged +rack. The lover, his imagination just then occupied +in clothing earthly glories in celestial, felt where his +senses were sharpest the hand of his darling falter, and +instinctively looked ahead. His uncle Algernon was +leisurely jolting towards them on his one sound leg. The +dismembered Guardsman talked to a friend whose arm +supported him, and speculated from time to time on the +fair ladies driving by. The two white faces passed him +unobserved. Unfortunately Ripton, coming behind, went +plump upon the Captain's live toe—or so he pretended, +crying, "Confound it, Mr. Thompson! you might have +chosen the other."</p> + +<p>The horrible apparition did confound Ripton, who +stammered that it was extraordinary.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Algernon. "Everybody makes up to +that fellow. Instinct, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>He had not to ask for his nephew. Richard turned +to face the matter.</p> + +<p>"Sorry I couldn't wait for you this morning, uncle," +he said, with the coolness of relationship. "I thought you +never walked so far."</p> + +<p>His voice was in perfect tone—the heroic mask admirable.</p> + +<p>Algernon examined the downcast visage at his side, and +contrived to allude to the popular preacher. He was instantly +introduced to Ripton's sister, Miss Thompson.</p> + +<p>The Captain bowed, smiling melancholy approval of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +his nephew's choice of a minister. After a few stray +remarks, and an affable salute to Miss Thompson, he +hobbled away, and then the three sealed volcanoes +breathed, and Lucy's arm ceased to be squeezed quite +so much up to the heroic pitch.</p> + +<p>This incident quickened their steps homeward to the +sheltering wings of Mrs. Berry. All that passed between +them on the subject comprised a stammered excuse from +Ripton for his conduct, and a good-humoured rejoinder +from Richard, that he had gained a sister by it: at which +Ripton ventured to wish aloud Miss Desborough would +only think so, and a faint smile twitched poor Lucy's lips +to please him. She hardly had strength to reach her cage. +She had none to eat of Mrs. Berry's nice little dinner. +To be alone, that she might cry and ease her heart of its +accusing weight of tears, was all she prayed for. Kind +Mrs. Berry, slipping into her bedroom to take off her +things, found the fair body in a fevered shudder, and +finished by undressing her completely and putting her +to bed.</p> + +<p>"Just an hour's sleep, or so," the mellifluous woman +explained the case to the two anxious gentlemen. "A +quiet sleep and a cup of warm tea goes for more than +twenty doctors, it do—when there's the flutters," she pursued. +"I know it by myself. And a good cry before-hand's +better than the best of medicine."</p> + +<p>She nursed them into a make-believe of eating, and +retired to her softer charge and sweeter babe, reflecting, +"Lord! Lord! the three of 'em don't make fifty! I'm as +old as two and a half of 'em, to say the least." Mrs. +Berry used her apron, and by virtue of their tender years +took them all three into her heart.</p> + +<p>Left alone, neither of the young men could swallow +a morsel.</p> + +<p>"Did you see the change come over her?" Richard +whispered.</p> + +<p>Ripton fiercely accused his prodigious stupidity.</p> + +<p>The lover flung down his knife and fork: "What could +I do? If I had said nothing, we should have been +suspected. I was obliged to speak. And she hates a lie! +See! it has struck her down. God forgive me!"</p> + +<p>Ripton affected a serene mind: "It was a fright, Richard,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +he said. "That's what Mrs. Berry means by flutters. +Those old women talk in that way. You heard what she +said. And these old women know. I'll tell you what it +is. It's this, Richard!—it's because you've got a fool for +your friend!"</p> + +<p>"She regrets it," muttered the lover. "Good God! I +think she fears me." He dropped his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>Ripton went to the window, repeating energetically for +his comfort: "It's because you've got a fool for your +friend!"</p> + +<p>Sombre grew the street they had last night aroused. +The sun was buried alive in cloud. Ripton saw himself +no more in the opposite window. He watched the deplorable +objects passing on the pavement. His aristocratic +visions had gone like his breakfast. Beauty had +been struck down by his egregious folly, and there he +stood—a wretch!</p> + +<p>Richard came to him: "Don't mumble on like that, +Rip!" he said. "Nobody blames you."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you're very kind, Richard," interposed the wretch, +moved at the face of misery he beheld.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Rip! I shall take her home to-night. +Yes! If she's happier away from me!—do you think me +a brute, Ripton? Rather than have her shed a tear, +I'd!—--I'll take her home to-night!"</p> + +<p>Ripton suggested that it was sudden; adding from his +larger experience, people perhaps might talk.</p> + +<p>The lover could not understand what they should talk +about, but he said: "If I give him who came for her +yesterday the clue? If no one sees or hears of me, what +can they say? O Rip! I'll give her up. I'm wrecked +for ever! What of that? Yes—let them take her! The +world in arms should never have torn her from me, but +when she cries—Yes! all's over. I'll find him at once."</p> + +<p>He searched in out-of-the-way corners for the hat of +resolve. Ripton looked on, wretcheder than ever.</p> + +<p>The idea struck him:—"Suppose, Richard, she doesn't +want to go?"</p> + +<p>It was a moment when, perhaps, one who sided with +parents and guardians and the old wise world, might have +inclined them to pursue their righteous wretched course, +and have given small Cupid a smack and sent him home<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +to his naughty Mother. Alas! (it is <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span> +interjecting) women are the born accomplices of mischief! +In bustles Mrs. Berry to clear away the refection, +and find the two knights helmed, and sees, though 'tis +dusk, that they wear doubtful brows, and guesses bad +things for her dear God Hymen in a twinkling.</p> + +<p>"Dear! dear!" she exclaimed, "and neither of you eaten +a scrap! And there's my dear young lady off into the +prettiest sleep you ever see!"</p> + +<p>"Ha?" cried the lover, illuminated.</p> + +<p>"Soft as a baby!" Mrs. Berry averred. "I went to +look at her this very moment, and there's not a bit of +trouble in her breath. It come and it go like the sweetest +regular instrument ever made. The Black Ox haven't +trod on <i>her</i> foot yet! Most like it was the air of London. +But only fancy, if you had called in a doctor! Why, +I shouldn't have let her take any of his quackery. Now, +there!"</p> + +<p>Ripton attentively observed his chief, and saw him doff +his hat with a curious caution, and peer into its recess, +from which, during Mrs. Berry's speech, he drew forth a +little glove—dropped there by some freak of chance.</p> + +<p>"Keep me, keep me, now you have me!" sang the little +glove, and amused the lover with a thousand conceits.</p> + +<p>"When will she wake, do you think, Mrs. Berry?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh! we mustn't go for disturbing her," said the guileful +good creature. "Bless ye! let her sleep it out. And if +you young gentlemen was to take my advice, and go and +take a walk for to get a appetite—everybody should eat! +it's their sacred duty, no matter what their feelings be! +and I say it who'm no chicken!—I'll frickashee this—which +is a chicken—against your return. I'm a cook, I +can assure ye!"</p> + +<p>The lover seized her two hands. "You're the best old +soul in the world!" he cried. Mrs. Berry appeared willing +to kiss him. "We won't disturb her. Let her sleep. +Keep her in bed, Mrs. Berry. Will you? And we'll call +to inquire after her this evening, and come and see her +to-morrow. I'm sure you'll be kind to her. There! +there!" Mrs. Berry was preparing to whimper. "I trust +her to you, you see. Good-bye, you dear old soul."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>He smuggled a handful of gold into her keeping, and +went to dine with his uncles, happy and hungry.</p> + +<p>Before they reached the hotel, they had agreed to draw +Mrs. Berry into their confidence, telling her (with embellishments) +all save their names, so that they might +enjoy the counsel and assistance of that trump of a woman, +and yet have nothing to fear from her. Lucy was to +receive the name of Letitia, Ripton's youngest and best-looking +sister. The heartless fellow proposed it in cruel +mockery of an old weakness of hers.</p> + +<p>"Letitia!" mused Richard. "I like the name. Both +begin with L. There's something soft—womanlike—in +the L.'s."</p> + +<p>Material Ripton remarked that they looked like pounds +on paper. The lover roamed through his golden groves. +"Lucy Feverel! that sounds better! I wonder where +Ralph is. I should like to help him. He's in love with +my cousin Clare. He'll never do anything till he marries. +No man can. I'm going to do a hundred things when +it's over. We shall travel first. I want to see the Alps. +One doesn't know what the earth is till one has seen +the Alps. What a delight it will be to her! I fancy I +see her eyes gazing up at them.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'And oh, your dear blue eyes, that heavenward glance<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With kindred beauty, banished humbleness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Past weeping for mortality's distress—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet from your soul a tear hangs there in trance,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And fills, but does not fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Softly I hear it call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At heaven's gate, till Sister Seraphs press<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To look on you their old love from the skies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those are the eyes of Seraphs bright on your blue eyes!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Beautiful! These lines, Rip, were written by a man who +was once a friend of my father's. I intend to find him +and make them friends again. You don't care for poetry. +It's no use your trying to swallow it, Rip!"</p> + +<p>"It sounds very nice," said Ripton, modestly shutting +his mouth.</p> + +<p>"The Alps! Italy! Rome! and then I shall go to the +East," the hero continued. "She's ready to go anywhere +with me, the dear brave heart! Oh, the glorious golden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +East! I dream of the desert. I dream I'm chief of an +Arab tribe, and we fly all white in the moonlight on our +mares, and hurry to the rescue of my darling! And we +push the spears, and we scatter them, and I come to the +tent where she crouches, and catch her to my saddle, and +away!—Rip! what a life!"</p> + +<p>Ripton strove to imagine he could enjoy it.</p> + +<p>"And then we shall come home, and I shall lead Austin's +life, with her to help me. First be virtuous, Rip! and +then serve your country heart and soul. A wise man told +me that. I think I shall do something."</p> + +<p>Sunshine and cloud, cloud and sunshine, passed over the +lover. Now life was a narrow ring; now the distances +extended, were winged, flew illimitably. An hour ago +and food was hateful. Now he manfully refreshed his +nature, and joined in Algernon's encomiums on Miss +Letitia Thompson.</p> + +<p>Meantime Beauty slept, watched by the veteran volunteer +of the hero's band. Lucy awoke from dreams +which seemed reality, to the reality which was a dream. +She awoke calling for some friend, "Margaret!" and heard +one say, "My name is Bessy Berry, my love! not Margaret." +Then she asked piteously where she was, and +where was Margaret, her dear friend, and Mrs. Berry +whispered, "Sure you've got a dearer!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" sighed Lucy, sinking on her pillow, overwhelmed +by the strangeness of her state.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry closed the frill of her nightgown and adjusted +the bedclothes quietly.</p> + +<p>Her name was breathed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my love?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Is he here?"</p> + +<p>"He's gone, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Gone?—Oh, where?" The young girl started up in +disorder.</p> + +<p>"Gone, to be back, my love! Ah! that young gentleman!" +Mrs. Berry chanted: "Not a morsel have he eat; +not a drop have he drunk!"</p> + +<p>"O Mrs. Berry! why did you not make him?" Lucy +wept for the famine-struck hero, who was just then feeding +mightily.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry explained that to make one eat who thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +the darling of his heart like to die, was a sheer impossibility +for the cleverest of women; and on this deep truth +Lucy reflected, with her eyes wide at the candle. She +wanted one to pour her feelings out to. She slid her +hand from under the bedclothes, and took Mrs. Berry's, +and kissed it. The good creature required no further +avowal of her secret, but forthwith leaned her consummate +bosom to the pillow, and petitioned heaven to bless +them both!—Then the little bride was alarmed, and wondered +how Mrs. Berry could have guessed it.</p> + +<p>"Why," said Mrs. Berry, "your love is out of your eyes, +and out of everything ye do." And the little bride wondered +more. She thought she had been so very cautious +not to betray it. The common woman in them made +cheer together after their own April fashion. Following +which Mrs. Berry probed for the sweet particulars of +this beautiful love-match; but the little bride's lips were +locked. She only said her lover was above her in station.</p> + +<p>"And you're a Catholic, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Berry!"</p> + +<p>"And him a Protestant."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Berry!"</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear!—And why shouldn't ye be?" she ejaculated, +seeing sadness return to the bridal babe. "So as +you was born, so shall ye be! But you'll have to make +your arrangements about the children. The girls to worship +with you, the boys with him. It's the same God, +my dear! You mustn't blush at it, though you do look +so pretty. If my young gentleman could see you now!"</p> + +<p>"Please, Mrs. Berry!" Lucy murmured.</p> + +<p>"Why, he will, you know, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, Mrs. Berry!"</p> + +<p>"And you that can't bear the thoughts of it! Well, I +do wish there was fathers and mothers on both sides and +dockments signed, and bridesmaids, and a breakfast! but +love is love, and ever will be, in spite of them."</p> + +<p>She made other and deeper dives into the little heart, +but though she drew up pearls, they were not of the kind +she searched for. The one fact that hung as a fruit upon +her tree of Love, Lucy had given her; she would not, +in fealty to her lover, reveal its growth and history, however<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +sadly she yearned to pour out all to this dear old +Mother Confessor.</p> + +<p>Her conduct drove Mrs. Berry from the rosy to the +autumnal view of matrimony, generally heralded by the +announcement that it is a lottery.</p> + +<p>"And when you see your ticket," said Mrs. Berry, "you +shan't know whether it's a prize or a blank. And, Lord +knows! some go on thinking it's a prize when it turns on +'em and tears 'em. I'm one of the blanks, my dear! I +drew a blank in Berry. He was a black Berry to me, +my dear! Smile away! he truly was, and I a-prizin' him +as proud as you can conceive! My dear!" Mrs. Berry +pressed her hands flat on her apron. "We hadn't been +a three months man and wife, when that man—it wasn't +the honeymoon, which some can't say—that man—Yes! +he kicked me. His wedded wife he kicked! Ah!" she +sighed to Lucy's large eyes, "I could have borne that. +A blow don't touch the heart," the poor creature tapped +her sensitive side. "I went on loving of him, for I'm +a soft one. Tall as a Grenadier he is, and when out of +service grows his moustache. I used to call him my +body-guardsman—like a Queen! I flattered him like the +fools we women are. For, take my word for it, my dear, +there's nothing here below so vain as a man! That I +know. But I didn't deserve it.... I'm a superior +cook.... I did not deserve that noways." Mrs. Berry +thumped her knee, and accentuated up her climax: "I +mended his linen. I saw to his adornments—he called +his clothes, the bad man! I was a servant to him, my +dear! and there—it was nine months—nine months from +the day he swear to protect and cherish and that—nine +calendar months, and my gentleman is off with another +woman! Bone of his bone!—pish!" exclaimed Mrs. Berry, +reckoning her wrongs over vividly. "Here's my ring. A +pretty ornament! What do it mean? I'm for tearin' it +off my finger a dozen times in the day. It's a symbol? +I call it a tomfoolery for the dead-alive to wear it, that's +a widow and not a widow, and haven't got a name for +what she is in any Dixonary. I've looked, my dear, and"—she +spread out her arms—"Johnson haven't got a name +for me!"</p> + +<p>At this impressive woe Mrs. Berry's voice quavered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +into sobs. Lucy spoke gentle words to the poor outcast +from Johnson. The sorrows of Autumn have no warning +for April. The little bride, for all her tender pity, felt +happier when she had heard her landlady's moving tale +of the wickedness of man, which cast in bright relief +the glory of that one hero who was hers. Then from a +short flight of inconceivable bliss, she fell, shot by one on +her hundred Argus-eyed fears.</p> + +<p>"O Mrs. Berry! I'm so young! Think of me—only +just seventeen!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry immediately dried her eyes to radiance. +"Young, my dear! Nonsense! There's no so much harm +in being young, here and there. I knew an Irish lady was +married at fourteen. Her daughter married close over +fourteen. She was a grandmother by thirty! When any +strange man began, she used to ask him what pattern caps +grandmothers wore. They'd stare! Bless you! the grandmother +could have married over and over again. It was +her daughter's fault, not hers, you know."</p> + +<p>"She was three years younger," mused Lucy.</p> + +<p>"She married beneath her, my dear. Ran off with her +father's bailiff's son. 'Ah, Berry!' she'd say, 'if I hadn't +been foolish, I should be my lady now—not Granny!' +Her father never forgave her—left all his estates out of +the family."</p> + +<p>"Did her husband always love her?" Lucy preferred to +know.</p> + +<p>"In his way, my dear, he did," said Mrs. Berry, coming +upon her matrimonial wisdom. "He couldn't help himself. +If he left off, he began again. She was so clever, +and did make him so comfortable. Cook! there wasn't +such another cook out of a Alderman's kitchen; no, indeed! +And she a born lady! That tells ye it's the duty +of all women! She had her saying—'When the parlour +fire gets low, put coals on the ketchen fire!' and a good +saying it is to treasure. Such is man! no use in havin' +their hearts if ye don't have their stomachs."</p> + +<p>Perceiving that she grew abstruse, Mrs. Berry added +briskly: "You know nothing about that yet, my dear. +Only mind me and mark me: don't neglect your cookery +Kissing don't last: cookery do!"</p> + +<p>Here, with an aphorism worthy a place in <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +Scrip</span>, she broke off to go posseting for her dear +invalid. Lucy was quite well; very eager to be allowed +to rise and be ready when the knock should come. Mrs. +Berry, in her loving considerateness for the little bride, +positively commanded her to lie down, and be quiet, and +submit to be nursed and cherished. For Mrs. Berry well +knew that ten minutes alone with the hero could only +be had while the little bride was in that unattainable +position.</p> + +<p>Thanks to her strategy, as she thought, her object was +gained. The night did not pass before she learnt, from +the hero's own mouth, that Mr. Richards, the father of +the hero, and a stern lawyer, was averse to his union +with this young lady he loved, because of a ward of his, +heiress to an immense property, whom he desired his son +to espouse; and because his darling Letitia was a Catholic—Letitia, +the sole daughter of a brave naval officer +deceased, and in the hands of a savage uncle, who wanted +to sacrifice this beauty to a brute of a son. Mrs. Berry +listened credulously to the emphatic narrative, and spoke +to the effect that the wickedness of old people formed the +excuse for the wildness of young ones. The ceremonious +administration of oaths of secrecy and devotion over, she +was enrolled in the hero's band, which now numbered +three, and entered upon the duties with feminine energy, +for there are no conspirators like women. Ripton's lieutenancy +became a sinecure, his rank merely titular. He +had never been married—he knew nothing about licences, +except that they must be obtained, and were not difficult—he +had not an idea that so many days' warning must +be given to the clergyman of the parish where one of the +parties was resident. How should he? All his forethought +was comprised in the ring, and whenever the +discussion of arrangements for the great event grew particularly +hot and important, he would say, with a shrewd +nod: "We mustn't forget the ring, you know, Mrs. Berry!" +and the new member was only prevented by natural +complacence from shouting: "Oh, drat ye! and your ring, +too." Mrs. Berry had acted conspicuously in fifteen marriages, +by banns, and by licence, and to have such an +obvious requisite dinned in her ears was exasperating. +They could not have contracted alliance with an auxiliary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +more invaluable, an authority so profound; and they +acknowledged it to themselves. The hero marched like +an automaton at her bidding; Lieutenant Thompson was +rejoiced to perform services as errand-boy in the enterprise.</p> + +<p>"It's in hopes you'll be happier than me, I do it," said +the devout and charitable Berry. "Marriages is made in +heaven, they say; and if that's the case, I say they don't +take much account of us below!"</p> + +<p>Her own woful experiences had been given to the hero +in exchange for his story of cruel parents.</p> + +<p>Richard vowed to her that he would henceforth hold +it a duty to hunt out the wanderer from wedded bonds, +and bring him back bound and suppliant.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll come!" said Mrs. Berry, pursing prophetic +wrinkles: "he'll come of his own accord. Never anywheres +will he meet such a cook as Bessy Berry! And he know +her value in his heart of hearts. And I do believe, when +he do come, I shall be opening these arms to him again, +and not slapping his impidence in the face—I'm that soft! +I always was—in matrimony, Mr. Richards!"</p> + +<p>As when nations are secretly preparing for war, the +docks and arsenals hammer night and day, and busy contractors +measure time by inches, and the air hums around +for leagues as it were myriads of bees, so the house and +neighbourhood of the matrimonial soft one resounded in +the heroic style, and knew little of the changes of light +decreed by Creation. Mrs. Berry was the general of the +hour. Down to Doctors' Commons she expedited the hero, +instructing him how boldly to face the Law, and fib: +for that the Law never could resist a fib and a bold face. +Down the hero went, and proclaimed his presence. And +lo! the Law danced to him its sedatest lovely bear's-dance. +Think ye the Law less susceptible to him than flesh and +blood? With a beautiful confidence it put the few familiar +questions to him, and nodded to his replies: then stamped +the bond, and took the fee. It must be an old vagabond +at heart that can permit the irrevocable to go so cheap, +even to a hero. For only mark him when he is petitioned +by heroes and heroines to undo what he does so easily! +That small archway of Doctors' Commons seems the eye +of a needle, through which the lean purse has a way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +somehow, of slipping more readily than the portly; but +once through, all are camels alike, the lean purse an +especially big camel. Dispensing tremendous marriage as +it does, the Law can have no conscience.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't the slightest difficulty," said the exulting hero.</p> + +<p>"Of course not!" returns Mrs. Berry. "It's as easy, if +ye're in earnest, as buying a plum bun."</p> + +<p>Likewise the ambassador of the hero went to claim the +promise of the Church to be in attendance on a certain +spot, on a certain day, and there hear oath of eternal +fealty, and gird him about with all its forces: which the +Church, receiving a wink from the Law, obsequiously +engaged to do, for less than the price of a plum-cake.</p> + +<p>Meantime, while craftsmen and skilled women, directed +by Mrs. Berry, were toiling to deck the day at hand, +Raynham and Belthorpe slept,—the former soundly; and +one day was as another to them. Regularly every morning +a letter arrived from Richard to his father, containing +observations on the phenomena of London; remarks +(mainly cynical) on the speeches and acts of Parliament; +and reasons for not having yet been able to call on the +Grandisons. They were certainly rather monotonous and +spiritless. The baronet did not complain. That cold dutiful +tone assured him there was no internal trouble or +distraction. "The letters of a healthful physique!" he said +to Lady Blandish, with sure insight. Complacently he +sat and smiled, little witting that his son's ordeal was +imminent, and that his son's ordeal was to be his own. +Hippias wrote that his nephew was killing him by making +appointments which he never kept, and altogether neglecting +him in the most shameless way, so that his ganglionic +centre was in a ten times worse state than when he left +Raynham. He wrote very bitterly, but it was hard to feel +compassion for his offended stomach.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, young Tom Blaize was not forthcoming, +and had despatched no tidings whatever. Farmer +Blaize smoked his pipe evening after evening, vastly disturbed. +London was a large place—young Tom might be +lost in it, he thought; and young Tom had his weaknesses. +A wolf at Belthorpe, he was likely to be a sheep in +London, as yokels have proved. But what had become +of Lucy? This consideration almost sent Farmer Blaize<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +off to London direct, and he would have gone had not +his pipe enlightened him. A young fellow might play +truant and get into a scrape, but a young man and a +young woman were sure to be heard of, <i>unless</i> they were +acting in complicity. Why, of course, young Tom had +behaved like a man, the rascal! and married her outright +there, while he had the chance. It was a long +guess. Still it was the only reasonable way of accounting +for his extraordinary silence, and therefore the farmer +held to it that he had done the deed. He argued as +modern men do who think the hero, the upsetter of +ordinary calculations, is gone from us. So, after despatching +a letter to a friend in town to be on the outlook +for son Tom, he continued awhile to smoke his pipe, +rather elated than not, and mused on the shrewd manner +he should adopt when Master Honeymoon did appear.</p> + +<p>Toward the middle of the second week of Richard's +absence, Tom Bakewell came to Raynham for Cassandra, +and privately handed a letter to the Eighteenth Century, +containing a request for money, and a round sum. The +Eighteenth Century was as good as her word, and gave +Tom a letter in return, enclosing a cheque on her bankers, +amply providing to keep the heroic engine in motion at +a moderate pace. Tom went back, and Raynham and +Lobourne slept and dreamed not of the morrow. The +System, wedded to Time, slept, and knew not how he +had been outraged—anticipated by seven pregnant seasons. +For Time had heard the hero swear to that legalizing +instrument, and had also registered an oath. Ah me! +venerable Hebrew Time! he is unforgiving. Half the +confusion and fever of the world comes of this vendetta +he declares against the hapless innocents who have once +done him a wrong. They cannot escape him. They will +never outlive it. The father of jokes, he is himself no +joke; which it seems the business of men to discover.</p> + +<p>The days roll round. He is their servant now. Mrs. +Berry has a new satin gown, a beautiful bonnet, a gold +brooch, and sweet gloves, presented to her by the hero, +wherein to stand by his bride at the altar to-morrow; and, +instead of being an old wary hen, she is as much a chicken +as any of the party, such has been the magic of these +articles. Fathers she sees accepting the facts produced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +for them by their children; a world content to be carved +out as it pleases the hero.</p> + +<p>At last Time brings the bridal eve, and is blest as a +benefactor. The final arrangements are made; the bridegroom +does depart; and Mrs. Berry lights the little bride +to her bed. Lucy stops on the landing where there is +an old clock eccentrically correct that night. 'Tis the +palpitating pause before the gates of her transfiguration. +Mrs. Berry sees her put her rosy finger on the <span class="smcap">One</span> about +to strike, and touch all the hours successively till she +comes to the <span class="smcap">Twelve</span> that shall sound "Wife" in her ears +on the morrow, moving her lips the while, and looking +round archly solemn when she has done; and that sight +so catches at Mrs. Berry's heart that, not guessing Time +to be the poor child's enemy, she endangers her candle +by folding Lucy warmly in her arms, whimpering, "Bless +you for a darling! you innocent lamb! You shall be +happy! You shall!"</p> + +<p>Old Time gazes grimly ahead.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>IN WHICH THE LAST ACT OF A COMEDY TAKES THE +PLACE OF THE FIRST</h3> + + +<p>Although it blew hard when Cæsar crossed the Rubicon, +the passage of that river is commonly calm; calm as +Acheron. So long as he gets his fare, the ferryman +does not need to be told whom he carries: he pulls with +a will, and heroes may be over in half-an-hour. Only +when they stand on the opposite bank, do they see what +a leap they have taken. The shores they have relinquished +shrink to an infinite remoteness. There they have +dreamed: here they must act. There lie youth and irresolution: +here manhood and purpose. They are veritably +in another land: a moral Acheron divides their life. +Their memories scarce seem their own! The <span class="smcap">Philosophical +Geography</span> (about to be published) observes that +each man has, one time or other, a little Rubicon—a +clear or a foul water to cross. It is asked him: "Wilt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +thou wed this Fate, and give up all behind thee?" And +"I will," firmly pronounced, speeds him over. The above-named +manuscript authority informs us, that by far the +greater number of carcases rolled by this heroic flood +to its sister stream below, are those of fellows who have +repented their pledge, and have tried to swim back to the +bank they have blotted out. For though every man of +us may be a hero for one fatal minute, very few remain +so after a day's march even: and who wonders that +Madam Fate is indignant, and wears the features of the +terrible Universal Fate to him? Fail before her, either +in heart or in act, and lo, how the alluring loves in her +visage wither and sicken to what it is modelled on! Be +your Rubicon big or small, clear or foul, it is the same: +you shall not return. On—or to Acheron!—I subscribe +to that saying of <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>:</p> + +<p>"The danger of a little knowledge of things is disputable: +<i>but beware the little knowledge of one's self!</i>"</p> + +<p>Richard Feverel was now crossing the River of his Ordeal. +Already the mists were stealing over the land he +had left: his life was cut in two, and he breathed but the +air that met his nostrils. His father, his father's love, +his boyhood and ambition, were shadowy. His poetic +dreams had taken a living attainable shape. He had a +distincter impression of the Autumnal Berry and her +household than of anything at Raynham. And yet the +young man loved his father, loved his home: and I daresay +Cæsar loved Rome: but whether he did or no, Cæsar +when he killed the Republic was quite bald, and the hero +we are dealing with is scarce beginning to feel his +despotic moustache. Did he know what he was made of? +Doubtless, nothing at all. But honest passion has an +instinct that can be safer than conscious wisdom. He +was an arrow drawn to the head, flying to the bow. His +audacious mendacities and subterfuges did not strike +him as in any way criminal; for he was perfectly sure +that the winning and securing of Lucy would in the end +be boisterously approved of, and in that case, were not +the means justified? Not that he took trouble to argue +thus, as older heroes and self-convicting villains are in +the habit of doing, to deduce a clear conscience. Conscience +and Lucy went together.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a soft fair day. The Rubicon sparkled in the +morning sun. One of those days when London embraces +the prospect of summer, and troops forth all its babies. +The pavement, the squares, the parks, were early alive +with the cries of young Britain. Violet and primrose +girls, and organ boys with military monkeys, and systematic +bands very determined in tone if not in tune, +filled the atmosphere, and crowned the blazing procession +of omnibuses, freighted with business men, Cityward, +where a column of reddish brown smoke,—blown aloft +by the South-west, marked the scene of conflict to which +these persistent warriors repaired. Richard had seen +much of early London that morning. His plans were +laid. He had taken care to ensure his personal liberty +against accidents, by leaving his hotel and his injured +uncle Hippias at sunrise. To-day or to-morrow his father +was to arrive. Farmer Blaize, Tom Bakewell reported +to him, was raging in town. Another day and she might +be torn from him: but to-day this miracle of creation +would be his, and then from those glittering banks yonder, +let them summon him to surrender her who dared! +The position of things looked so propitious that he +naturally thought the powers waiting on love conspired in +his behalf. And she, too—since she must cross this river, +she had sworn to him to be brave, and do him honour, +and wear the true gladness of her heart in her face. Without +a suspicion of folly in his acts, or fear of results, +Richard strolled into Kensington Gardens, breakfasting +on the foreshadow of his great joy, now with a vision of +his bride, now of the new life opening to him. Mountain +masses of clouds, rounded in sunlight, swung up the blue. +The flowering chestnut pavilions overhead rustled and +hummed. A sound in his ears as of a banner unfolding +in the joyful distance lulled him.</p> + +<p>He was to meet his bride at the church at a quarter +past eleven. His watch said a quarter to ten. He strolled +on beneath the long-stemmed trees toward the well dedicated +to a saint obscure. Some people were drinking at +the well. A florid lady stood by a younger one, who had +a little silver mug half-way to her mouth, and evinced +undisguised dislike to the liquor of the salutary saint.</p> + +<p>"Drink, child!" said the maturer lady. "That is only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +your second mug. I insist upon your drinking three full +ones every morning we're in town. Your constitution +positively requires iron!"</p> + +<p>"But, mama," the other expostulated, "it's so nasty. I +shall be sick."</p> + +<p>"Drink!" was the harsh injunction. "Nothing to the +German waters, my dear. Here, let me taste." She took +the mug and gave it a flying kiss. "I declare I think it +almost nice—not at all objectionable. Pray, taste it," she +said to a gentleman standing below them to act as cup-bearer.</p> + +<p>An unmistakable cis-Rubicon voice replied: "Certainly, +if it's good fellowship; though I confess I don't +think mutual sickness a very engaging ceremony."</p> + +<p>Can one never escape from one's relatives? Richard +ejaculated inwardly.</p> + +<p>Without a doubt those people were Mrs. Doria, Clare, +and Adrian. He had them under his eyes.</p> + +<p>Clare, peeping up from her constitutional dose to make +sure no man was near to see the possible consequence of +it, was the first to perceive him. Her hand dropped.</p> + +<p>"Now, pray, drink, and do not fuss!" said Mrs. Doria.</p> + +<p>"Mama!" Clare gasped.</p> + +<p>Richard came forward and capitulated honourably, +since retreat was out of the question. Mrs. Doria swam +to meet him: "My own boy! My dear Richard!" profuse +of exclamations. Clare shyly greeted him. Adrian kept +in the background.</p> + +<p>"Why, we were coming for you to-day, Richard," said +Mrs. Doria, smiling effusion; and rattled on, "We want +another cavalier. This is delightful! My dear nephew! +You have grown from a boy to a man. And there's down +on his lip! And what brings you here at such an hour +in the morning? Poetry, I suppose! Here, take my arm, +child.—Clare! finish that mug and thank your cousin for +sparing you the third. I always bring her, when we are +by a chalybeate, to take the waters before breakfast. We +have to get up at unearthly hours. Think, my dear boy! +Mothers are sacrifices! And so you've been alone a fortnight +with your agreeable uncle! A charming time of +it you must have had! Poor Hippias! what may be his +last nostrum?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nephew!" Adrian stretched his head round to the +couple. "Doses of nephew taken morning and night fourteen +days! And he guarantees that it shall destroy an +iron constitution in a month."</p> + +<p>Richard mechanically shook Adrian's hand as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Quite well, Ricky?"</p> + +<p>"Yes: well enough," Richard answered.</p> + +<p>"Well?" resumed his vigorous aunt, walking on with +him, while Clare and Adrian followed. "I really never +saw you looking so handsome. There's something about +your face—look at me—you needn't blush. You've grown +to an Apollo. That blue buttoned-up frock coat becomes +you admirably—and those gloves, and that easy neck-tie. +Your style is irreproachable, quite a style of your own! +And nothing eccentric. You have the instinct of dress. +Dress shows blood, my dear boy, as much as anything +else. Boy!—you see, I can't forget old habits. You +were a boy when I left, and now!—Do you see any +change in him, Clare?" she turned half round to her +daughter.</p> + +<p>"Richard is looking very well, mama," said Clare, +glancing at him under her eyelids.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could say the same of you, my dear.—Take +my arm, Richard. Are you afraid of your aunt? I want +to get used to you. Won't it be pleasant, our being all in +town together in the season? How fresh the Opera will +be to you! Austin, I hear, takes stalls. You can come +to the Forey's box when you like. We are staying with +the Foreys close by here. I think it's a little too far +out, you know; but they like the neighbourhood. This +is what I have always said: Give him more liberty! +Austin has seen it at last. How do you think Clare +looking?"</p> + +<p>The question had to be repeated. Richard surveyed +his cousin hastily, and praised her looks.</p> + +<p>"Pale!" Mrs. Doria sighed.</p> + +<p>"Rather pale, aunt."</p> + +<p>"Grown very much—don't you think, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"Very tall girl indeed, aunt."</p> + +<p>"If she had but a little more colour, my dear Richard! +I'm sure I give her all the iron she can swallow, but that +pallor still continues. I think she does not prosper away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +from her old companion. She was accustomed to look +up to you, Richard"——</p> + +<p>"Did you get Ralph's letter, aunt?" Richard interrupted +her.</p> + +<p>"Absurd!" Mrs. Doria pressed his arm. "The nonsense +of a boy! Why did you undertake to forward such +stuff?"</p> + +<p>"I'm certain he loves her," said Richard, in a serious +way.</p> + +<p>The maternal eyes narrowed on him. "Life, my dear +Richard, is a game of cross-purposes," she observed, dropping +her fluency, and was rather angered to hear him +laugh. He excused himself by saying that she spoke so +like his father.</p> + +<p>"You breakfast with us," she freshened off again. "The +Foreys wish to see you; the girls are dying to know you. +Do you know, you have a reputation on account of that"—she +crushed an intruding adjective—"System you were +brought up on. You mustn't mind it. For my part, I +think you look a credit to it. Don't be bashful with young +women, mind! As much as you please with the old ones. +You know how to behave among men. There you have +your Drawing-room Guide! I'm sure I shall be proud +of you. Am I not?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria addressed his eyes coaxingly.</p> + +<p>A benevolent idea struck Richard, that he might employ +the minutes to spare, in pleading the case of poor +Ralph; and, as he was drawn along, he pulled out his +watch to note the precise number of minutes he could +dedicate to this charitable office.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," said Mrs. Doria. "You want manners, +my dear boy. I think it never happened to me before +that a man consulted his watch in my presence."</p> + +<p>Richard mildly replied that he had an engagement at a +particular hour, up to which he was her servant.</p> + +<p>"Fiddlededee!" the vivacious lady sang. "Now I've got +you, I mean to keep you. Oh! I've heard all about you. +This ridiculous indifference that your father makes so +much of! Why, of course, you wanted to see the world! +A strong, healthy young man shut up all his life in a +lonely house—no friends, no society, no amusements but +those of rustics! Of course you were indifferent! Your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +intelligence and superior mind alone saved you from +becoming a dissipated country boor.—Where are the +others?"</p> + +<p>Clare and Adrian came up at a quick pace.</p> + +<p>"My damozel dropped something," Adrian explained.</p> + +<p>Her mother asked what it was.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, mama," said Clare, demurely, and they proceeded +as before.</p> + +<p>Overborne by his aunt's fluency of tongue, and occupied +in acute calculation of the flying minutes, Richard +let many pass before he edged in a word for Ralph. +When he did, Mrs. Doria stopped him immediately.</p> + +<p>"I must tell you, child, that I refuse to listen to such +rank idiotcy."</p> + +<p>"It's nothing of the kind, aunt."</p> + +<p>"The fancy of a boy."</p> + +<p>"He's not a boy. He's half-a-year older than I am!"</p> + +<p>"You silly child! The moment you fall in love, you +all think yourselves men."</p> + +<p>"On my honour, aunt! I believe he loves her thoroughly."</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you so, child?"</p> + +<p>"Men don't speak openly of those things," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"Boys do," said Mrs. Doria.</p> + +<p>"But listen to me in earnest, aunt. I want you to be +kind to Ralph. Don't drive him to—You may be sorry +for it. Let him—do let him write to her, and see her. I +believe women are as cruel as men in these things."</p> + +<p>"I never encourage absurdity, Richard."</p> + +<p>"What objection have you to Ralph, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're both good families. It's not that absurdity, +Richard. It will be to his credit to remember that his +first fancy wasn't a dairymaid." Mrs. Doria pitched her +accent tellingly. It did not touch her nephew.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want Clare ever to marry?" He put the +last point of reason to her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria laughed. "I hope so, child. We must find +some comfortable old gentleman for her."</p> + +<p>"What infamy!" mutters Richard.</p> + +<p>"And I engage Ralph shall be ready to dance at her +wedding, or eat a hearty breakfast—We don't dance at +weddings now, and very properly. It's a horrid sad business,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +not to be treated with levity.—Is that his regiment?" +she said, as they passed out of the hussar-sentinelled gardens. +"Tush, tush, child; Master Ralph will recover, as—hem! +others have done. A little headache—you call it +heartache—and up you rise again, looking better than +ever. No doubt, to have a grain of sense forced into +your brains, you poor dear children! must be painful. +Girls suffer as much as boys, I assure you. More, for +their heads are weaker, and their appetites less constant. +Do I talk like your father now? Whatever makes the +boy fidget at his watch so?"</p> + +<p>Richard stopped short. Time spoke urgently.</p> + +<p>"I must go," he said.</p> + +<p>His face did not seem good for trifling. Mrs. Doria +would trifle in spite.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Clare! Richard is going. He says he has an +engagement. What possible engagement can a young +man have at eleven o'clock in the morning?—unless it's +to be married!" Mrs. Doria laughed at the ingenuity of +her suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Is the church handy, Ricky?" said Adrian. "You can +still give us half-an-hour if it is. The celibate hours +strike at Twelve." And he also laughed in his fashion.</p> + +<p>"Won't you stay with us, Richard?" Clare asked. She +blushed timidly, and her voice shook.</p> + +<p>Something indefinite—a sharp-edged thrill in the tones +made the burning bridegroom speak gently to her.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I would, Clare; I should like to please you, +but I have a most imperative appointment—that is, I +promised—I must go. I shall see you again"——</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria took forcible possession of him. "Now, do +come, and don't waste words. I insist upon your having +some breakfast first, and then, if you really must go, you +shall. Look! there's the house. At least you will accompany +your aunt to the door."</p> + +<p>Richard conceded this. She little imagined what she +required of him. Two of his golden minutes melted into +nothingness. They were growing to be jewels of price, +one by one more and more precious as they ran, and now +so costly-rare—rich as his blood! not to kindest relations, +dearest friends, could he give another. The die is cast! +Ferryman! push off.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good-bye!" he cried, nodding bluffly at the three as +one, and fled.</p> + +<p>They watched his abrupt muscular stride through the +grounds of the house. He looked like resolution on the +march. Mrs. Doria, as usual with her out of her brother's +hearing, began rating the System.</p> + +<p>"See what becomes of that nonsensical education! The +boy really does not know how to behave like a common +mortal. He has some paltry appointment, or is mad after +some ridiculous idea of his own, and everything must be +sacrificed to it! That's what Austin calls concentration +of the faculties. I think it's more likely to lead to downright +insanity than to greatness of any kind. And so I +shall tell Austin. It's time he should be spoken to seriously +about him."</p> + +<p>"He's an engine, my dear aunt," said Adrian. "He +isn't a boy, or a man, but an engine. And he appears to +have been at high pressure since he came to town—out +all day and half the night."</p> + +<p>"He's mad!" Mrs. Doria interjected.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. Extremely shrewd is Master Ricky, and +carries as open an eye ahead of him as the ships before +Troy. He's more than a match for any of us. He is for +me, I confess."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Mrs. Doria, "he does astonish me!"</p> + +<p>Adrian begged her to retain her astonishment till the +right season, which would not be long arriving.</p> + +<p>Their common wisdom counselled them not to tell the +Foreys of their hopeful relative's ungracious behaviour. +Clare had left them. When Mrs. Doria went to her room +her daughter was there, gazing down at something in her +hand, which she guiltily closed.</p> + +<p>In answer to an inquiry why she had not gone to take +off her things, Clare said she was not hungry. Mrs. Doria +lamented the obstinacy of a constitution that no quantity +of iron could affect, and eclipsed the looking-glass, saying: +"Take them off here, child, and learn to assist +yourself."</p> + +<p>She disentangled her bonnet from the array of her +spreading hair, talking of Richard, and his handsome +appearance, and extraordinary conduct. Clare kept +opening and shutting her hand, in an attitude half pensive,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +half-listless. She did not stir to undress. A joyous +dimple hung in one pale cheek, and she drew long, even +breaths.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria, assured by the glass that she was ready to +show, came to her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Now, really," she said, "you are too helpless, my dear. +You cannot do a thing without a dozen women at your +elbow. What will become of you? You will have to +marry a millionaire.—What's the matter with you, child?"</p> + +<p>Clare undid her tight-shut fingers, as if to some attraction +of her eyes, and displayed a small gold hoop on the +palm of a green glove.</p> + +<p>"A wedding-ring!" exclaimed Mrs. Doria, inspecting +the curiosity most daintily.</p> + +<p>There on Clare's pale green glove lay a wedding-ring!</p> + +<p>Rapid questions as to where, when, how, it was found, +beset Clare, who replied: "In the Gardens, mama. This +morning. When I was walking behind Richard."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure he did not give it you, Clare?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, mama! he did not give it me!"</p> + +<p>"Of course not! only he does such absurd things! I +thought, perhaps—these boys are so exceedingly ridiculous!" +Mrs. Doria had an idea that it might have been +concerted between the two young gentlemen, Richard and +Ralph, that the former should present this token of +hymeneal devotion from the latter to the young lady of +his love; but a moment's reflection, exonerated boys even +from such preposterous behaviour.</p> + +<p>"Now, I wonder," she speculated on Clare's cold face, +"I do wonder whether it's lucky to find a wedding-ring. +What very quick eyes you have, my darling!" Mrs. Doria +kissed her. She thought it must be lucky, and the circumstance +made her feel tender to her child. Her child +did not move to the kiss.</p> + +<p>"Let's see whether it fits," said Mrs. Doria, almost infantine +with surprise and pleasure.</p> + +<p>Clare suffered her glove to be drawn off. The ring slid +down her long thin finger, and settled comfortably.</p> + +<p>"It does!" Mrs. Doria whispered. To find a wedding-ring +is open to any woman; but to find a wedding-ring +that fits may well cause a superstitious emotion. Moreover, +that it should be found while walking in the neighbourhood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +of the identical youth whom a mother has +destined for her daughter, gives significance to the gentle +perturbation of ideas consequent on such a hint from +Fortune.</p> + +<p>"It really fits!" she pursued. "Now I never pay any +attention to the nonsense of omens and that kind of +thing" (had the ring been a horseshoe Mrs. Doria would +have picked it up and dragged it obediently home), "but +this, I must say, is odd—to find a ring that fits!—singular! +It never happened to me. Sixpence is the most I +ever discovered, and I have it now. Mind you keep it, +Clare—this ring. And," she laughed, "offer it to Richard +when he comes; say, you think he must have dropped it."</p> + +<p>The dimple in Clare's cheek quivered.</p> + +<p>Mother and daughter had never spoken explicitly of +Richard. Mrs. Doria, by exquisite management, had contrived +to be sure that on one side there would be no +obstacle to her project of general happiness, without, as +she thought, compromising her daughter's feelings unnecessarily. +It could do no harm to an obedient young +girl to hear that there was no youth in the world like a +certain youth. He the prince of his generation, she might +softly consent, when requested, to be his princess; and +if never requested (for Mrs. Doria envisaged failure), +she might easily transfer her softness to squires of lower +degree. Clare had always been blindly obedient to her +mother (Adrian called them Mrs. Doria Battledoria and +the fair Shuttlecockiana), and her mother accepted in +this blind obedience the text of her entire character. It +is difficult for those who think very earnestly for their +children to know when their children are thinking on +their own account. The exercise of their volition we +construe as revolt. Our love does not like to be invalided +and deposed from its command, and here I think yonder +old thrush on the lawn who has just kicked the last of her +lank offspring out of the nest to go shift for itself, much +the kinder of the two, though sentimental people do shrug +their shoulders at these unsentimental acts of the creatures +who never wander from nature. Now, excess of +obedience is, to one who manages most exquisitely, as bad +as insurrection. Happily Mrs. Doria saw nothing in her +daughter's manner save a want of iron. Her pallor, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +lassitude, the tremulous nerves in her face, exhibited an +imperious requirement of the mineral.</p> + +<p>"The reason why men and women are mysterious to us, +and prove disappointing," we learn from <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's +Scrip</span>, "is, that we will read them from our own book; +just as we are perplexed by reading ourselves from theirs."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria read her daughter from her own book, and +she was gay; she laughed with Adrian at the breakfast-table, +and mock-seriously joined in his jocose assertion +that Clare was positively and by all hymeneal auspices +betrothed to the owner of that ring, be he who he may, +and must, whenever he should choose to come and claim +her, give her hand to him (for everybody agreed the +owner must be masculine, as no <i>woman</i> would drop a +wedding-ring), and follow him whither he listed all the +world over. Amiable giggling Forey girls called Clare, +The Betrothed. Dark man, or fair? was mooted. Adrian +threw off the first strophe of Clare's fortune in burlesque +rhymes, with an insinuating gipsy twang. Her aunt +Forey warned her to have her dresses in readiness. Her +grandpapa Forey pretended to grumble at bridal presents +being expected from grandpapas. This one smelt orange-flower, +another spoke solemnly of an old shoe. The finding +of a wedding-ring was celebrated through all the palpitating +accessories and rosy ceremonies involved by that +famous instrument. In the midst of the general hilarity, +Clare showed her deplorable want of iron by bursting into +tears.</p> + +<p>Did the poor mocked-at heart divine what might be then +enacting? Perhaps, dimly, as we say: that is, without +eyes.</p> + +<p>At an altar stand two fair young creatures, ready with +their oaths. They are asked to fix all time to the moment, +and they do so. If there is hesitation at the immense +undertaking, it is but maidenly. She conceives as little +mental doubt of the sanity of the act as he. Over them +hangs a cool young curate in his raiment of office. Behind +are two apparently lucid people, distinguished from +each other by sex and age; the foremost a bunch of simmering +black satin; under her shadow a cock-robin in +the dress of a gentleman, big joy swelling out his chest, +and pert satisfaction cocking his head. These be they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +who stand here in place of parents to the young couple. +All is well. The service proceeds.</p> + +<p>Firmly the bridegroom tells forth his words. This hour +of the complacent giant at least is his, and that he means +to hold him bound through the eternities, men may hear. +Clearly, and with brave modesty, speaks she: no less +firmly, though her body trembles: her voice just vibrating +while the tone travels on, like a smitten vase.</p> + +<p>Time hears sentence pronounced on him: the frail hands +bind his huge limbs and lock the chains. He is used to it: +he lets them do as they will.</p> + +<p>Then comes that period when they are to give their troth +to each other. The Man with his right hand takes the +Woman by her right hand: the Woman with her right +hand takes the Man by his right hand.—Devils dare not +laugh at whom Angels crowd to contemplate.</p> + +<p>Their hands are joined; their blood flows as one stream. +Adam and fair Eve front the generations. Are they not +lovely? Purer fountains of life were never in two bosoms.</p> + +<p>And then they loose their hands, and the cool curate +doth bid the Man to put a ring on the Woman's fourth +finger, counting thumb. And the Man thrusts his hand +into one pocket, and into another, forward and back many +times: into all his pockets. He remembers that he felt +for it, and felt it in his waistcoat pocket, when in the +Gardens. And his hand comes forth empty. And the Man +is ghastly to look at!</p> + +<p>Yet, though Angels smile, shall not Devils laugh! The +curate deliberates. The black satin bunch ceases to simmer. +He in her shadow changes from a beaming cock-robin +to an inquisitive sparrow. Eyes multiply questions: +lips have no reply. Time ominously shakes his chain, +and in the pause a sound of mockery stings their ears.</p> + +<p>Think ye a hero is one to be defeated in his first battle? +Look at the clock! there are but seven minutes to the +stroke of the celibate hours: the veteran is surely lifting +his two hands to deliver fire, and his shot will sunder +them in twain so nearly united. All the jewellers of +London speeding down with sacks full of the nuptial +circlet cannot save them!</p> + +<p>The battle must be won on the field, and what does the +hero now? It is an inspiration! For who else would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +dream of such a reserve in the rear? None see what he +does; only that the black-satin bunch is remonstratingly +agitated, stormily shaken, and subdued: and as though the +menacing cloud had opened, and dropped the dear token +from the skies at his demand, he produces the symbol of +their consent, and the service proceeds: "With this ring +I thee wed."</p> + +<p>They are prayed over and blest. For good, or for ill, +this deed is done. The names are registered; fees fly +right and left: they thank, and salute, the curate, whose +official coolness melts into a smile of monastic gallantry: +the beadle on the steps waves off a gaping world as they +issue forth: bridegroom and bridesman recklessly scatter +gold on him: carriage doors are banged to: the coachmen +drive off, and the scene closes, everybody happy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>CELEBRATES THE BREAKFAST</h3> + + +<p>And the next moment the bride is weeping as if she +would dissolve to one of Dian's Virgin Fountains from +the clasp of the Sun-God. She has nobly preserved the +mask imposed by comedies, till the curtain has fallen, and +now she weeps, streams with tears. Have patience, O impetuous +young man! It is your profession to be a hero. +This poor heart is new to it, and her duties involve such +wild acts, such brigandage, such terrors and tasks, she is +quite unnerved. She did you honour till now. Bear with +her now. She does not cry the cry of ordinary maidens +in like cases. While the struggle went on her tender face +was brave; but alas! Omens are against her: she holds +an ever-present dreadful one on that fatal fourth finger +of hers, which has coiled itself round her dream of delight, +and takes her in its clutch like a horrid serpent. And yet +she must love it. She dares not part from it. She must +love and hug it, and feed on its strange honey, and all +the bliss it gives her casts all the deeper shadow on what +is to come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>Say: Is it not enough to cause feminine apprehension, +for a woman to be married in another woman's ring?</p> + +<p>You are amazons, ladies, at Saragossa, and a thousand +citadels—wherever there is strife, and Time is to be taken +by the throat. Then shall few men match your sublime +fury. But what if you see a vulture, visible only to +yourselves, hovering over the house you are gaily led by +the torch to inhabit? Will you not crouch and be cowards?</p> + +<p>As for the hero, in the hour of victory he pays no heed +to omens. He does his best to win his darling to confidence +by caresses. Is she not his? Is he not hers? And +why, when the battle is won, does she weep? Does she +regret what she has done?</p> + +<p>Oh, never! never! her soft blue eyes assure him, steadfast +love seen swimming on clear depths of faith in them, +through the shower.</p> + +<p>He is silenced by her exceeding beauty, and sits perplexed +waiting for the shower to pass.</p> + +<p>Alone with Mrs. Berry, in her bedroom, Lucy gave +tongue to her distress, and a second character in the +comedy changed her face.</p> + +<p>"O Mrs. Berry! Mrs. Berry! what has happened! what +has happened!"</p> + +<p>"My darlin' child!" The bridal Berry gazed at the +finger of doleful joy. "I'd forgot all about it! And that's +what've made me feel so queer ever since, then! I've +been seemin' as if I wasn't myself somehow, without my +ring. Dear! dear! what a wilful young gentleman! We +ain't a match for men in that state—Lord help us!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry sat on the edge of a chair: Lucy on the edge +of the bed.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of it, Mrs. Berry? Is it not +terrible?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say I should'a liked it myself, my dear," Mrs. +Berry candidly responded.</p> + +<p>"Oh! why, why, why did it happen!" the young bride +bent to a flood of fresh tears, murmuring that she felt +already old—forsaken.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you got a comfort in your religion for all accidents?" +Mrs. Berry inquired.</p> + +<p>"None for this. I know it's wrong to cry when I am so +happy. I hope he will forgive me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry vowed her bride was the sweetest, softest, +beautifulest thing in life.</p> + +<p>"I'll cry no more," said Lucy. "Leave me, Mrs. Berry, +and come back when I ring."</p> + +<p>She drew forth a little silver cross, and fell upon her +knees to the bed. Mrs. Berry left the room tiptoe.</p> + +<p>When she was called to return, Lucy was calm and tearless, +and smiled kindly to her.</p> + +<p>"It's over now," she said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry sedately looked for her ring to follow.</p> + +<p>"He does not wish me to go in to the breakfast you +have prepared, Mrs. Berry. I begged to be excused. I +cannot eat."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry very much deplored it, as she had laid out +a superior nuptial breakfast, but with her mind on her +ring she nodded assentingly.</p> + +<p>"We shall not have much packing to do, Mrs. Berry."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear. It's pretty well all done."</p> + +<p>"We are going to the Isle of Wight, Mrs. Berry."</p> + +<p>"And a very suitable spot ye've chose, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"He loves the sea. He wishes to be near it."</p> + +<p>"Don't ye cross to-night, if it's anyways rough, my dear. +It isn't advisable." Mrs. Berry sank her voice to say, +"Don't ye be soft and give way to him there, or you'll +both be repenting it."</p> + +<p>Lucy had only been staving off the unpleasantness she +had to speak. She saw Mrs. Berry's eyes pursuing her +ring, and screwed up her courage at last.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Berry."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Berry, you shall have another ring."</p> + +<p>"Another, my dear?" Berry did not comprehend. +"One's quite enough for the objeck," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"I mean," Lucy touched her fourth finger, "I cannot +part with this." She looked straight at Mrs. Berry.</p> + +<p>That bewildered creature gazed at her, and at the ring, +till she had thoroughly exhausted the meaning of the +words, and then exclaimed, horror-struck: "Deary me, +now! you don't say that? You're to be married again in +your own religion."</p> + +<p>The young wife repeated: "I can never part with it."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear!" the wretched Berry wrung her hands,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +divided between compassion and a sense of injury. "My +dear!" she kept expostulating like a mute.</p> + +<p>"I know all that you would say, Mrs. Berry. I am very +grieved to pain you. It is mine now, and must be mine. +I cannot give it back."</p> + +<p>There she sat, suddenly developed to the most inflexible +little heroine in the three Kingdoms.</p> + +<p>From her first perception of the meaning of the young +bride's words, Mrs. Berry, a shrewd physiognomist, knew +that her case was hopeless, unless she treated her as she +herself had been treated, and seized the ring by force of +arms; and that she had not heart for.</p> + +<p>"What!" she gasped faintly, "one's own lawful wedding-ring +you wouldn't give back to a body?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is mine, Mrs. Berry. It was yours, but it is +mine now. You shall have whatever you ask for but that. +Pray, forgive me! It must be so."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry rocked on her chair, and sounded her hands +together. It amazed her that this soft little creature could +be thus firm. She tried argument.</p> + +<p>"Don't ye know, my dear, it's the fatalest thing you're +inflictin' upon me, reelly! Don't ye know that bein' bereft +of one's own lawful wedding-ring's the fatalest thing in +life, and there's no prosperity after it! For what stands +in place o' that, when that's gone, my dear? And what +<i>could</i> ye give me to compensate a body for the loss o' that! +Don't ye know—Oh, deary me!" The little bride's face +was so set that poor Berry wailed off in despair.</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Lucy. "I know it all. I know what +I do to you. Dear, dear Mrs. Berry! forgive me! If I +parted with my ring I know it would be fatal."</p> + +<p>So this fair young freebooter took possession of her +argument as well as her ring.</p> + +<p>Berry racked her distracted wits for a further appeal.</p> + +<p>"But, my child," she counterargued, "you don't understand. +It ain't as you think. It ain't a hurt to you now. +Not a bit, it ain't. It makes no difference now! Any ring +does while the wearer's a maid. And your Mr. Richard'll +find the very ring he intended for ye. And, of course, +that's the one you'll wear as his wife. It's all the same +now, my dear. It's no shame to a maid. Now do—now +do—there's a darlin'!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>Wheedling availed as little as argument.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Berry," said Lucy, "you know what my—he +spoke: 'With this ring I thee wed.' It was with <i>this</i> ring. +Then how could it be with another?"</p> + +<p>Berry was constrained despondently to acknowledge that +was logic.</p> + +<p>She hit upon an artful conjecture:</p> + +<p>"Won't it be unlucky your wearin' of the ring which +served me so? Think o' that!"</p> + +<p>"It may! it may! it may!" cried Lucy.</p> + +<p>"And arn't you rushin' into it, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Berry," Lucy said again, "it was this ring. It +cannot—it never can be another. It was this. What it +brings me I must bear. I shall wear it till I die!"</p> + +<p>"Then what am <i>I</i> to do?" the ill-used woman groaned. +"What shall I tell my husband when he come back to me, +and see I've got a new ring waitin' for him? Won't that +be a welcome?"</p> + +<p>Quoth Lucy: "How can he know it is not the same, in +a plain gold ring?"</p> + +<p>"You never see so keen a eyed man in joolry as my +Berry!" returned his solitary spouse. "Not know, my +dear? Why, any one would know that 've got eyes in his +head. There's as much difference in wedding-rings as +there's in wedding people! Now, do pray be reasonable, +my own sweet!"</p> + +<p>"Pray, do not ask me," pleads Lucy.</p> + +<p>"Pray, do think better of it," urges Berry.</p> + +<p>"Pray, pray, Mrs. Berry!" pleads Lucy.</p> + +<p>"—And not leave your old Berry all forlorn just when +you're so happy!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I would not, you dear, kind old creature!" +Lucy faltered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry thought she had her.</p> + +<p>"Just when you're going to be the happiest wife on +earth—all you want yours!" she pursued the tender strain. +"A handsome young gentleman! Love and Fortune +smilin' on ye!"——</p> + +<p>Lucy rose up.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Berry," she said, "I think we must not lose time +in getting ready, or he will be impatient."</p> + +<p>Poor Berry surveyed her in abject wonder from the edge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +of her chair. Dignity and resolve were in the ductile +form she had hitherto folded under her wing. In an hour +the heroine had risen to the measure of the hero. Without +being exactly aware what creature she was dealing +with, Berry acknowledged to herself it was not one of the +common run, and sighed, and submitted.</p> + +<p>"It's like a divorce, that it is!" she sobbed.</p> + +<p>After putting the corners of her apron to her eyes, +Berry bustled humbly about the packing. Then Lucy, +whose heart was full to her, came and kissed her, and +Berry bumped down and regularly cried. This over, she +had recourse to fatalism.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it was to be, my dear! It's my punishment +for meddlin' wi' such matters. No, I'm not sorry. Bless +ye both. Who'd 'a thought you was so wilful?—you that +any one might have taken for one of the silly-softs! +You're a pair, my dear! indeed you are! You was made +to meet! But we mustn't show him we've been crying.—Men +don't like it when they're happy. Let's wash our +faces and try to bear our lot."</p> + +<p>So saying the black-satin bunch careened to a renewed +deluge. She deserved some sympathy, for if it is sad to +be married in another person's ring, how much sadder to +have one's own old accustomed lawful ring violently torn +off one's finger and eternally severed from one! But +where you have heroes and heroines, these terrible complications +ensue.</p> + +<p>They had now both fought their battle of the ring, and +with equal honour and success.</p> + +<p>In the chamber of banquet Richard was giving Ripton +his last directions. Though it was a private wedding, Mrs. +Berry had prepared a sumptuous breakfast. Chickens +offered their breasts: pies hinted savoury secrets: things +mystic, in a mash, with Gallic appellatives, jellies, creams, +fruits, strewed the table: as a tower in the midst, the +cake colossal: the priestly vesture of its nuptial white relieved +by hymeneal splendours.</p> + +<p>Many hours, much labour and anxiety of mind, Mrs. +Berry had expended upon this breakfast, and why? There +is one who comes to all feasts that have their basis in +Folly, whom criminals of trained instinct are careful to +provide against: who will speak, and whose hateful voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +must somehow be silenced while the feast is going on. +This personage is <span class="smcap">The Philosopher</span>. Mrs. Berry knew +him. She knew that he would come. She provided +against him in the manner she thought most efficacious: +that is, by cheating her eyes and intoxicating her conscience +with the due and proper glories incident to weddings +where fathers dilate, mothers collapse, and marriage +settlements are flourished on high by the family lawyer: +and had there been no show of the kind to greet her on +her return from the church, she would, and she foresaw +she would, have stared at squalor and emptiness, and +repented her work. The Philosopher would have laid hold +of her by the ear, and called her bad names. Entrenched +behind a breakfast-table so legitimately adorned, Mrs. +Berry defied him. In the presence of that cake he dared +not speak above a whisper. And there were wines to +drown him in, should he still think of protesting; fiery +wines, and cool: claret sent purposely by the bridegroom +for the delectation of his friend.</p> + +<p>For one good hour, therefore, the labour of many hours +kept him dumb. Ripton was fortifying himself so as to +forget him altogether, and the word as well, till the next +morning. Ripton was excited, overdone with delight. He +had already finished one bottle, and listened, pleasantly +flushed, to his emphatic and more abstemious chief. He +had nothing to do but to listen, and to drink. The hero +would not allow him to shout Victory! or hear a word of +toasts; and as, from the quantity of oil poured on it, his +eloquence was becoming a natural force in his bosom, the +poor fellow was afflicted with a sort of elephantiasis of +suppressed emotion. At times he half-rose from his chair, +and fell vacuously into it again; or he chuckled in the +face of weighty, severely-worded instructions; tapped his +chest, stretched his arms, yawned, and in short behaved +so singularly that Richard observed it, and said: "On +my soul, I don't think you know a word I'm saying."</p> + +<p>"Every word, Ricky!" Ripton spirted through the opening. +"I'm going down to your governor, and tell him: +Sir Austin! Here's your only chance of being a happy +father—no, no!—Oh! don't you fear me, Ricky! I shall +talk the old gentleman over."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>His chief said:</p> + +<p>"Look here. You had better not go down to-night. Go +down the first thing to-morrow, by the six o'clock train. +Give him my letter. Listen to me—give him my letter, +and don't speak a word till he speaks. His eyebrows will +go up and down, he won't say much. I know him. If he +asks you about her, don't be a fool, but say what you +think of her sensibly"——</p> + +<p>No cork could hold in Ripton when she was alluded to +He shouted: "She's an angel!"</p> + +<p>Richard checked him: "Speak sensibly, I say—quietly. +You can say how gentle and good she is—my fleur-de-luce! +And say, this was not her doing. If any one's to blame, +it's I. I made her marry me. Then go to Lady Blandish, +if you don't find her at the house. You may say whatever +you please to her. Give her my letter, and tell her I +want to hear from her immediately. She has seen Lucy, +and I know what she thinks of her. You will then go to +Farmer Blaize. I told you Lucy happens to be his niece—she +has not lived long there. She lived with her aunt +Desborough in France while she was a child, and can +hardly be called a relative to the farmer—there's not a +point of likeness between them. Poor darling! she never +knew her mother. Go to Mr. Blaize, and tell him. You +will treat him just as you would treat any other gentleman. +If you are civil, he is sure to be. And if he +abuses me, for my sake and hers you will still treat him +with respect. You hear? And then write me a full account +of all that has been said and done. You will have +my address the day after to-morrow. By the way, Tom +will be here this afternoon. Write out for him where to +call on you the day after to-morrow, in case you have +heard anything in the morning you think I ought to +know at once, as Tom will join me that night. Don't +mention to anybody about my losing the ring, Ripton. +I wouldn't have Adrian get hold of that for a thousand +pounds. How on earth I came to lose it! How well she +bore it, Rip! How beautifully she behaved!"</p> + +<p>Ripton again shouted: "An angel!" Throwing up the +heels of his second bottle, he said:</p> + +<p>"You may trust your friend, Richard. Aha! when you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +pulled at old Mrs. Berry I didn't know what was up. I do +wish you'd let me drink her health?"</p> + +<p>"Here's to Penelope!" said Richard, just wetting his +mouth. The carriage was at the door: a couple of dire +organs, each grinding the same tune, and a vulture-scented +itinerant band (from which not the secretest veiled wedding +can escape) worked harmoniously without in the +production of discord, and the noise acting on his nervous +state made him begin to fume and send in messages for +his bride by the maid.</p> + +<p>By and by the lovely young bride presented herself +dressed for her journey, and smiling from stained eyes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry was requested to drink some wine, which +Ripton poured out for her, enabling Mrs. Berry thereby to +measure his condition.</p> + +<p>The bride now kissed Mrs. Berry, and Mrs. Berry kissed +the bridegroom, on the plea of her softness. Lucy gave +Ripton her hand, with a musical "Good-bye, Mr. Thompson," +and her extreme graciousness made him just sensible +enough to sit down before he murmured his fervent +hopes for her happiness.</p> + +<p>"I shall take good care of him," said Mrs. Berry, focussing +her eyes to the comprehension of the company.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Penelope!" cried Richard. "I shall tell the +police everywhere to look out for your lord."</p> + +<p>"Oh my dears! good-bye, and Heaven bless ye both!"</p> + +<p>Berry quavered, touched with compunction at the +thoughts of approaching loneliness. Ripton, his mouth +drawn like a bow to his ears, brought up the rear to the +carriage, receiving a fair slap on the cheek from an old +shoe precipitated by Mrs. Berry's enthusiastic female +domestic.</p> + +<p>White handkerchiefs were waved, the adieux had fallen +to signs: they were off. Then did a thought of such +urgency illumine Mrs. Berry, that she telegraphed, hand +in air, awakening Ripton's lungs, for the coachman to +stop, and ran back to the house. Richard chafed to be +gone, but at his bride's intercession he consented to wait. +Presently they beheld the old black-satin bunch stream +through the street-door, down the bit of garden, and up +the astonished street, halting, panting, capless at the +carriage door, a book in her hand,—a much-used, dog-leaved,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +steamy, greasy book, which, at the same time +calling out in breathless jerks, "There! never ye mind +looks! I ain't got a new one. Read it, and don't ye forget +it!" she discharged into Lucy's lap, and retreated to the +railings, a signal for the coachman to drive away for +good.</p> + +<p>How Richard laughed at the Berry's bridal gift! Lucy, +too, lost the omen at her heart as she glanced at the title +of the volume. It was Dr. Kitchener on Domestic +Cookery!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>THE PHILOSOPHER APPEARS IN PERSON</h3> + + +<p>General withdrawing of heads from street-windows, +emigration of organs and bands, and a relaxed atmosphere +in the circle of Mrs. Berry's abode, proved that Dan +Cupid had veritably flown to suck the life of fresh regions. +With a pensive mind she grasped Ripton's arm to regulate +his steps, and returned to the room where her creditor +awaited her. In the interval he had stormed her undefended +fortress, the cake, from which altitude he shook a +dolorous head at the guilty woman. She smoothed her +excited apron, sighing. Let no one imagine that she +regretted her complicity. She was ready to cry torrents, +but there must be absolute castigation before this criminal +shall conceive the sense of regret; and probably then she +will cling to her wickedness the more—such is the born +Pagan's tenacity! Mrs. Berry sighed, and gave him back +his shake of the head. O you wanton, improvident +creature! said he. O you very wise old gentleman! said +she. He asked her the thing she had been doing. She +enlightened him with the fatalist's reply. He sounded a +bogey's alarm of contingent grave results. She retreated +to the entrenched camp of the fact she had helped to make.</p> + +<p>"It's done!" she exclaimed. How could she regret what +she felt comfort to know was done? Convinced that events +alone could stamp a mark on such stubborn flesh, he determined +to wait for them, and crouched silent on the cake,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +with one finger downward at Ripton's incision there, +showing a crumbling chasm and gloomy rich recess.</p> + +<p>The eloquent indication was understood. "Dear! dear!" +cried Mrs. Berry, "what a heap o' cake, and no one to send +it to!"</p> + +<p>Ripton had resumed his seat by the table and his embrace +of the claret. Clear ideas of satisfaction had left +him and resolved to a boiling geysir of indistinguishable +transports. He bubbled, and waggled, and nodded amicably +to nothing, and successfully, though not without +effort, preserved his uppermost member from the seductions +of the nymph, Gravitation, who was on the look-out +for his whole length shortly.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" he shouted, about a minute after Mrs. Berry +had spoken, and almost abandoned himself to the nymph +on the spot. Mrs. Berry's words had just reached his wits.</p> + +<p>"Why do you laugh, young man?" she inquired, familiar +and motherly on account of his condition.</p> + +<p>Ripton laughed louder, and caught his chest on the +edge of the table and his nose on a chicken. "That's goo'!" +he said, recovering, and rocking under Mrs. Berry's eyes. +"No friend!"</p> + +<p>"I did not say, no friend," she remarked. "I said, no +one; meanin', I know not where for to send it to."</p> + +<p>Ripton's response to this was: "You put a Griffin on +that cake. Wheatsheaves each side."</p> + +<p>"His crest?" Mrs. Berry said sweetly.</p> + +<p>"Oldest baronetcy 'n England!" waved Ripton.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Mrs. Berry encouraged him on.</p> + +<p>"You think he's Richards. We're oblige' be very close. +And she's the most lovely!—If I hear man say thing +'gainst her."</p> + +<p>"You needn't for to cry over her, young man," said Mrs. +Berry. "I wanted for to drink their right healths by their +right names, and then go about my day's work, and I do +hope you won't keep me."</p> + +<p>Ripton stood bolt upright at her words.</p> + +<p>"You do?" he said, and filling a bumper he with cheerfully +vinous articulation and glibness of tongue proposed +the health of Richard and Lucy Feverel, of Raynham +Abbey! and that mankind should not require an expeditious +example of the way to accept the inspiring toast,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +he drained his bumper at a gulp. It finished him. The +farthing rushlight of his reason leapt and expired. He +tumbled to the sofa and there stretched.</p> + +<p>Some minutes subsequent to Ripton's signalization of +his devotion to the bridal pair, Mrs. Berry's maid entered +the room to say that a gentleman was inquiring below +after the young gentleman who had departed, and found +her mistress with a tottering wineglass in her hand, exhibiting +every symptom of unconsoled hysterics. Her +mouth gaped, as if the fell creditor had her by the swallow. +She ejaculated with horrible exultation that she had been +and done it, as her disastrous aspect seemed to testify, +and her evident, but inexplicable, access of misery induced +the sympathetic maid to tender those caressing words that +were all Mrs. Berry wanted to go off into the self-caressing +fit without delay; and she had already given the preluding +demoniac ironic outburst, when the maid called heaven to +witness that the gentleman would hear her; upon which +Mrs. Berry violently controlled her bosom, and ordered +that he should be shown upstairs instantly to see her the +wretch she was. She repeated the injunction.</p> + +<p>The maid did as she was told, and Mrs. Berry, wishing +first to see herself as she was, mutely accosted the looking-glass, +and tried to look a very little better. She dropped a +shawl on Ripton and was settled, smoothing her agitation +when her visitor was announced.</p> + +<p>The gentleman was Adrian Harley. An interview with +Tom Bakewell had put him on the track, and now a momentary +survey of the table, and its white-vestured cake, +made him whistle.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry plaintively begged him to do her the favour +to be seated.</p> + +<p>"A fine morning, ma'am," said Adrian.</p> + +<p>"It have been!" Mrs. Berry answered, glancing over her +shoulder at the window, and gulping as if to get her heart +down from her mouth.</p> + +<p>"A very fine Spring," pursued Adrian, calmly anatomizing +her countenance.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry smothered an adjective to "weather" on a +deep sigh. Her wretchedness was palpable. In proportion +to it, Adrian waxed cheerful and brisk. He divined +enough of the business to see that there was some strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +intelligence to be fished out of the culprit who sat compressing +hysterics before him; and as he was never more +in his element than when he had a sinner, and a repentant +prostrate abject sinner in hand, his affable countenance +might well deceive poor Berry.</p> + +<p>"I presume these are Mr. Thompson's lodgings?" he +remarked, with a look at the table.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry's head and the whites of her eyes informed +him that they were not Mr. Thompson's lodgings.</p> + +<p>"No?" said Adrian, and threw a carelessly inquisitive +eye about him. "Mr. Feverel is out, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>A convulsive start at the name, and two corroborating +hands dropped on her knees, formed Mrs. Berry's reply.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Feverel's man," continued Adrian, "told me I +should be certain to find him here. I thought he would +be with his friend, Mr. Thompson. I'm too late, I perceive. +Their entertainment is over. I fancy you have +been having a party of them here, ma'am?—a bachelors' +breakfast!"</p> + +<p>In the presence of that cake this observation seemed to +mask an irony so shrewd that Mrs. Berry could barely +contain herself. She felt she must speak. Making her +face as deplorably propitiating as she could, she began:</p> + +<p>"Sir, may I beg for to know your name?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Harley accorded her request.</p> + +<p>Groaning in the clutch of a pitiless truth, she continued:</p> + +<p>"And you are Mr. Harley, that was—oh! and you've +come for Mr.?"——</p> + +<p>Mr. Richard Feverel was the gentleman Mr. Harley had +come for.</p> + +<p>"Oh! and it's no mistake, and he's of Raynham Abbey?" +Mrs. Berry inquired.</p> + +<p>Adrian, very much amused, assured her that he was +born and bred there.</p> + +<p>"His father's Sir Austin?" wailed the black-satin bunch +from behind her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Adrian verified Richard's descent.</p> + +<p>"Oh, then, what have I been and done!" she cried, and +stared blankly at her visitor. "I been and married my +baby! I been and married the bread out of my own mouth. +O Mr. Harley! Mr. Harley! I knew you when you was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +boy that big, and wore jackets; and all of you. And it's +my softness that's my ruin, for I never can resist a man's +asking. Look at that cake, Mr. Harley!"</p> + +<p>Adrian followed her directions quite coolly. "Wedding-cake, +ma'am!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Bride-cake it is, Mr. Harley!"</p> + +<p>"Did you make it yourself, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>The quiet ease of the question overwhelmed Mrs. Berry, +and upset that train of symbolic representations by which +she was seeking to make him guess the catastrophe and +spare her the furnace of confession.</p> + +<p>"I did not make it myself, Mr. Harley," she replied. +"It's a bought cake, and I'm a lost woman. Little I +dreamed when I had him in my arms a baby that I should +some day be marrying him out of my own house! I little +dreamed that! Oh, why did he come to me! Don't you +remember his old nurse, when he was a baby in arms, +that went away so sudden, and no fault of hers, Mr. +Harley! The very mornin' after the night you got into +Mr. Benson's cellar, and got so tipsy on his Madeary +I remember it as clear as yesterday!—and Mr. Benson was +that angry he threatened to use the whip to you, and I +helped put you to bed. I'm that very woman."</p> + +<p>Adrian smiled placidly at these reminiscences of his +guileless youthful life.</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am! well?" he said. He would bring her to +the furnace.</p> + +<p>"Won't you see it all, kind sir?" Mrs. Berry appealed +to him in pathetic dumb show.</p> + +<p>Doubtless by this time Adrian did see it all, and was +mentally cursing at Folly, and reckoning the immediate +consequences, but he looked uninstructed, his peculiar +dimple-smile was undisturbed, his comfortable full-bodied +posture was the same. "Well, ma'am?" he spurred her on.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry burst forth: "It were done this mornin', +Mr. Harley, in the church, at half-past eleven of the clock, +or twenty to, by licence."</p> + +<p>Adrian was now obliged to comprehend a case of matrimony. +"Oh!" he said, like one who is as hard as facts, +and as little to be moved: "Somebody was married this +morning; was it Mr. Thompson, or Mr. Feverel?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry shuffled up to Ripton, and removed the shawl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +from him, saying: "Do he look like a new married bridegroom, +Mr. Harley?"</p> + +<p>Adrian inspected the oblivious Ripton with philosophic +gravity.</p> + +<p>"This young gentleman was at church this morning?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite reasonable and proper then," Mrs. Berry +begged him to understand.</p> + +<p>"Of course, ma'am." Adrian lifted and let fall the +stupid inanimate limbs of the gone wretch, puckering his +mouth queerly. "You were all reasonable and proper, +ma'am. The principal male performer, then, is my cousin, +Mr. Feverel? He was married by you, this morning, by +licence at your parish church, and came here, and ate a +hearty breakfast, and left intoxicated."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry flew out. "He never drink a drop, sir. A +more moderate young gentleman you never see. Oh! don't +ye think that now, Mr. Harley. He was as upright and +master of his mind as you be."</p> + +<p>"Ay!" the wise youth nodded thanks to her for the comparison, +"I mean the other form of intoxication."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry sighed. She could say nothing on that +score.</p> + +<p>Adrian desired her to sit down, and compose herself, +and tell him circumstantially what had been done.</p> + +<p>She obeyed, in utter perplexity at his perfectly composed +demeanour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry, as her recital declared, was no other than +that identical woman who once in old days had dared to +behold the baronet behind his mask, and had ever since +lived in exile from the Raynham world on a little pension +regularly paid to her as an indemnity. She was that +woman, and the thought of it made her almost accuse +Providence for the betraying excess of softness it had +endowed her with. How was she to recognize her baby +grown a man? He came in a feigned name; not a word +of the family was mentioned. He came like an ordinary +mortal, though she felt something more than ordinary to +him—she knew she did. He came bringing a beautiful +young lady, and on what grounds could she turn her back +on them? Why, seeing that all was chaste and legal, why +<i>should</i> she interfere to make them unhappy—so few the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +chances of happiness in this world! Mrs. Berry related +the seizure of her ring.</p> + +<p>"One wrench," said the sobbing culprit, "one, and my +ring was off!"</p> + +<p>She had no suspicions, and the task of writing her name +in the vestry-book had been too enacting for a thought +upon the other signatures.</p> + +<p>"I daresay you were exceedingly sorry for what you had +done," said Adrian.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir," moaned Berry, "I were, and am."</p> + +<p>"And would do your best to rectify the mischief—eh, +ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, and indeed, sir, I would," she protested solemnly.</p> + +<p>"—As, of course, you should—knowing the family. +Where may these lunatics have gone to spend the Moon?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry swimmingly replied: "To the Isle——I +don't quite know, sir!" she snapped the indication short, +and jumped out of the pit she had fallen into. Repentant +as she might be, those dears should not be pursued and +cruelly balked of their young bliss! "To-morrow, if you +please, Mr. Harley: not to-day!"</p> + +<p>"A pleasant spot," Adrian observed, smiling at his easy +prey.</p> + +<p>By a measurement of dates he discovered that the bridegroom +had brought his bride to the house on the day he +had quitted Raynham, and this was enough to satisfy +Adrian's mind that there had been concoction and chicanery. +Chance, probably, had brought him to the old +woman: chance certainly had not brought him to the +young one.</p> + +<p>"Very well, ma'am," he said, in answer to her petitions +for his favourable offices with Sir Austin in behalf of her +little pension and the bridal pair, "I will tell him you were +only a blind agent in the affair, being naturally soft, and +that you trust he will bless the consummation. He will +be in town to-morrow morning; but one of you two must +see him to-night. An emetic kindly administered will set +our friend here on his legs. A bath and a clean shirt, and +he might go. I don't see why your name should appear at +all. Brush him up, and send him to Bellingham by the +seven o'clock train. He will find his way to Raynham;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +he knows the neighbourhood best in the dark. Let him +go and state the case. Remember, one of you must go."</p> + +<p>With this fair prospect of leaving a choice of a perdition +between the couple of unfortunates, for them to fight and +lose all their virtue over, Adrian said, "Good morning."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry touchingly arrested him. "You won't refuse +a piece of his cake, Mr. Harley?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no, ma'am," Adrian turned to the cake with +alacrity. "I shall claim a very large piece. Richard has +a great many friends who will rejoice to eat his wedding-cake. +Cut me a fair quarter, Mrs. Berry. Put it in paper, +if you please. I shall be delighted to carry it to them, +and apportion it equitably according to their several degrees +of relationship."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry cut the cake. Somehow, as she sliced +through it, the sweetness and hapless innocence of the +bride was presented to her, and she launched into eulogies +of Lucy, and clearly showed how little she regretted her +conduct. She vowed that they seemed made for each +other; that both were beautiful; both had spirit; both were +innocent; and to part them, or make them unhappy, +would be, Mrs. Berry wrought herself to cry aloud, oh, +such a pity!</p> + +<p>Adrian listened to it as the expression of a matter-of-fact +opinion. He took the huge quarter of cake, nodded +multitudinous promises, and left Mrs. Berry to bless his +good heart.</p> + +<p>"So dies the System!" was Adrian's comment in the +street. "And now let prophets roar! He dies respectably +in a marriage-bed, which is more than I should have foretold +of the monster. Meantime," he gave the cake a +dramatic tap, "I'll go sow nightmares."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>PROCESSION OF THE CAKE</h3> + + +<p>Adrian really bore the news he had heard with creditable +disinterestedness, and admirable repression of anything +beneath the dignity of a philosopher. When one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +has attained that felicitous point of wisdom from which +one sees all mankind to be fools, the diminutive objects +may make what new moves they please, one does not +marvel at them: their sedateness is as comical as their +frolic, and their frenzies more comical still. On this +intellectual eminence the wise youth had built his castle, +and he had lived in it from an early period. Astonishment +never shook the foundations, nor did envy of greater +heights tempt him to relinquish the security of his stronghold, +for he saw none. Jugglers he saw running up +ladders that overtopped him, and air-balloons scaling +the empyrean; but the former came precipitately down +again, and the latter were at the mercy of the winds; +while he remained tranquil on his solid unambitious +ground, fitting his morality to the laws, his conscience to +his morality, his comfort to his conscience. Not that +voluntarily he cut himself off from his fellows: on the +contrary, his sole amusement was their society. Alone he +was rather dull, as a man who beholds but one thing must +naturally be. Study of the animated varieties of that +one thing excited him sufficiently to think life a pleasant +play; and the faculties he had forfeited to hold his elevated +position he could serenely enjoy by contemplation +of them in others. Thus:—wonder at Master Richard's +madness: though he himself did not experience it, he was +eager to mark the effect on his beloved relatives. As he +carried along his vindictive hunch of cake, he shaped out +their different attitudes of amaze, bewilderment, horror; +passing by some personal chagrin in the prospect. For +his patron had projected a journey, commencing with +Paris, culminating on the Alps, and lapsing in Rome: a +delightful journey to show Richard the highways of +History and tear him from the risk of further ignoble +fascinations, that his spirit might be altogether bathed +in freshness and revived. This had been planned during +Richard's absence to surprise him.</p> + +<p>Now the dream of travel was to Adrian what the love of +woman is to the race of young men. It supplanted that +foolishness. It was his Romance, as we say; that buoyant +anticipation on which in youth we ride the airs, and +which, as we wax older and too heavy for our atmosphere, +hardens to the Hobby, which, if an obstinate animal, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +a safer horse, and conducts man at a slower pace to the +sexton. Adrian had never travelled. He was aware that +his romance was earthly and had discomforts only to be +evaded by the one potent talisman possessed by his patron. +His Alp would hardly be grand to him without an obsequious +landlord in the foreground: he must recline on +Mammon's imperial cushions in order to moralize becomingly +on the ancient world. The search for pleasure at +the expense of discomfort, as frantic lovers woo their +mistresses to partake the shelter of a hut and batten on +a crust, Adrian deemed the bitterness of beggarliness. +Let his sweet mistress be given him in the pomp and +splendour due to his superior emotions, or not at all. +Consequently the wise youth had long nursed an ineffectual +passion, and it argued a great nature in him, that +at the moment when his wishes were to be crowned, he +should look with such slight touches of spleen at the gorgeous +composite fabric of Parisian cookery and Roman +antiquities crumbling into unsubstantial mockery. Assuredly +very few even of the philosophers would have turned +away uncomplainingly to meaner delights the moment +after.</p> + +<p>Hippias received the first portion of the cake.</p> + +<p>He was sitting by the window in his hotel, reading. He +had fought down his breakfast with more than usual success, +and was looking forward to his dinner at the Foreys' +with less than usual timidity.</p> + +<p>"Ah! glad you've come, Adrian," he said, and expanded +his chest. "I was afraid I should have to ride down. +This is kind of you. We'll walk down together through +the park. It's absolutely dangerous to walk alone in these +streets. My opinion is, that orange-peel lasts all through +the year now, and will till legislation puts a stop to it. I +give you my word I slipped on a piece of orange-peel yesterday +afternoon in Piccadilly, and I thought I was down! +I saved myself by a miracle."</p> + +<p>"You have an appetite, I hope?" asked Adrian.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall get one, after a bit of a walk," chirped +Hippias. "Yes. I think I feel hungry now."</p> + +<p>"Charmed to hear it," said Adrian, and began unpinning +his parcel on his knees. "How should you define +Folly?" he checked the process to inquire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hm!" Hippias meditated; he prided himself on being +oracular when such questions were addressed to him. "I +think I should define it to be a slide."</p> + +<p>"Very good definition. In other words, a piece of +orange-peel; once on it, your life and limbs are in danger, +and you are saved by a miracle. You must present that +to the <span class="smcap">Pilgrim</span>. And the monument of folly, what would +that be?"</p> + +<p>Hippias meditated anew. "All the human race on one +another's shoulders." He chuckled at the sweeping sourness +of the instance.</p> + +<p>"Very good," Adrian applauded, "or in default of that, +some symbol of the thing, say; such as this of which I +have here brought you a chip."</p> + +<p>Adrian displayed the quarter of the cake.</p> + +<p>"This is the monument made portable—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Cake!" cried Hippias, retreating to his chair to dramatize +his intense disgust. "You're right of them that eat +it. If I—if I don't mistake," he peered at it, "the noxious +composition bedizened in that way is what they call wedding-cake. +It's arrant poison! Who is it you want to +kill? What are you carrying such stuff about for?"</p> + +<p>Adrian rang the bell for a knife. "To present you with +your due and proper portion. You will have friends and +relatives, and can't be saved from them, not even by +miracle. It is a habit which exhibits, perhaps, the unconscious +inherent cynicism of the human mind, for +people who consider that they have reached the acme of +mundane felicity, to distribute this token of esteem to +their friends, with the object probably" (he took the +knife from a waiter and went to the table to slice the +cake) "of enabling those friends (these edifices require +very delicate incision—each particular currant and subtle +condiment hangs to its neighbour—a wedding-cake is +evidently the most highly civilized of cakes, and partakes +of the evils as well as the advantages of civilization!)—I +was saying, they send us these love-tokens, no doubt +(we shall have to weigh out the crumbs, if each is to +have his fair share) that we may the better estimate their +state of bliss by passing some hours in purgatory. This, +as far as I can apportion it without weights and scales, +is your share, my uncle!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>He pushed the corner of the table bearing the cake +towards Hippias.</p> + +<p>"Get away!" Hippias vehemently motioned, and started +from his chair. "I'll have none of it, I tell you! It's +death! It's fifty times worse than that beastly compound +Christmas pudding! What fool has been doing this, then? +Who dares send me cake? Me! It's an insult."</p> + +<p>"You are not compelled to eat any before dinner," +said Adrian, pointing the corner of the table after him, +"but your share you must take, and appear to consume. +One who has done so much to bring about the marriage +cannot in conscience refuse his allotment of the fruits. +Maidens, I hear, first cook it under their pillows, and extract +nuptial dreams therefrom—said to be of a lighter +class, taken that way. It's a capital cake, and, upon my +honour, you have helped to make it—you have indeed! +So here it is."</p> + +<p>The table again went at Hippias. He ran nimbly round +it, and flung himself on a sofa exhausted, crying: "There!... +My appetite's gone for to-day!"</p> + +<p>"Then shall I tell Richard that you won't touch a +morsel of his cake?" said Adrian, leaning on his two hands +over the table and looking at his uncle.</p> + +<p>"Richard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your nephew: my cousin: Richard! Your companion +since you've been in town. He's married, you +know. Married this morning at Kensington parish +church, by licence, at half-past eleven of the clock, or +twenty to twelve. Married, and gone to spend his honeymoon +in the Isle of Wight: a very delectable place for a +month's residence. I have to announce to you that, thanks +to your assistance, the experiment is launched, sir!"——</p> + +<p>"Richard married!"</p> + +<p>There was something to think and to say in objection +to it, but the wits of poor Hippias was softened by the +shock. His hand travelled half-way to his forehead, +spread out to smooth the surface of that seat of reason, +and then fell.</p> + +<p>"Surely you knew all about it? you were so anxious to +have him in town under your charge."</p> + +<p>"Married?" Hippias jumped up—he had it. "Why, +he's under age! he's an infant."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So he is. But the infant is not the less married. Fib +like a man and pay your fee—what does it matter? Any +one who is breeched can obtain a licence in our noble country. +And the interests of morality demand that it should +not be difficult. Is it true—can you persuade anybody +that you have known nothing about it?"</p> + +<p>"Ha! infamous joke! I wish, sir, you would play your +pranks on somebody else," said Hippias, sternly, as he +sank back on the sofa. "You've done me up for the day, +I can assure you."</p> + +<p>Adrian sat down to instil belief by gentle degrees, and +put an artistic finish to the work. He had the gratification +of passing his uncle through varied contortions, and at +last Hippias perspired in conviction, and exclaimed, "This +accounts for his conduct to me. That boy must have a +cunning nothing short of infernal! I feel ... I feel +it just here," he drew a hand along his midriff.</p> + +<p>"I'm not equal to this world of fools," he added faintly, +and shut his eyes. "No, I can't dine. Eat? ha! ... no. +Go without me!"</p> + +<p>Shortly after Hippias went to bed, saying to himself, as +he undressed, "See what comes of our fine schemes! Poor +Austin!" and as the pillow swelled over his ears, "I'm not +sure that a day's fast won't do me good." The Dyspepsy +had bought his philosophy at a heavy price; he had a right +to use it.</p> + +<p>Adrian resumed the procession of the cake.</p> + +<p>He sighted his melancholy uncle Algernon hunting an +appetite in the Row, and looking as if the hope ahead of +him were also one-legged. The Captain did not pass without +querying the ungainly parcel.</p> + +<p>"I hope I carry it ostentatiously enough?" said Adrian. +"Enclosed is wherewithal to quiet the alarm of the land. +Now may the maids and wives of Merry England sleep secure. +I had half a mind to fix it on a pole, and engage a +band to parade it. This is our dear Richard's wedding-cake. +Married at half-past eleven this morning, by licence, +at the Kensington parish church; his own ring +being lost he employed the ring of his beautiful bride's +lachrymose landlady, she standing adjacent by the altar. +His farewell to you as a bachelor, and hers as a maid, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +can claim on the spot, if you think proper, and digest according +to your powers."</p> + +<p>Algernon let off steam in a whistle. "Thompson, the +solicitor's daughter!" he said. "I met them the other day, +somewhere about here. He introduced me to her. A +pretty little baggage."</p> + +<p>"No." Adrian set him right. "'Tis a Miss Desborough, +a Roman Catholic dairymaid. Reminds one of pastoral +England in the time of the Plantagenets! He's quite +equal to introducing her as Thompson's daughter, and +himself as Beelzebub's son. However, the wild animal is +in Hymen's chains, and the cake is cut. Will you have +your morsel?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, by all means!—not now." Algernon had an unwonted +air of reflection.—"Father know it?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. He will to-night by nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Then I must see him by seven. Don't say you met +me." He nodded, and pricked his horse.</p> + +<p>"Wants money!" said Adrian, putting the combustible +he carried once more in motion.</p> + +<p>The women were the crowning joy of his contemplative +mind. He had reserved them for his final discharge. Dear +demonstrative creatures! Dyspepsia would not weaken +their poignant outcries, or self-interest check their fainting +fits. On the generic woman one could calculate. Well +might <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span> say of her that, "She is always +at Nature's breast"; not intending it as a compliment. +Each woman is Eve throughout the ages; whereas the +<span class="smcap">Pilgrim</span> would have us believe that the Adam in men has +become warier, if not wiser; and weak as he is, has learnt +a lesson from time. Probably the <span class="smcap">Pilgrim's</span> meaning may +be taken to be, that Man grows, and Woman does not.</p> + +<p>At any rate, Adrian hoped for such natural choruses as +you hear in the nursery when a bauble is lost. He was +awake to Mrs. Doria's maternal predestinations, and +guessed that Clare stood ready with the best form of filial +obedience. They were only a poor couple to gratify his +Mephistophelian humour, to be sure, but Mrs. Doria was +equal to twenty, and they would proclaim the diverse ways +with which maidenhood and womanhood took disappointment, +while the surrounding Forey girls and other females +of the family assembly were expected to develop the finer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +shades and tapering edges of an agitation to which no +woman could be cold.</p> + +<p>All went well. He managed cleverly to leave the cake +unchallenged in a conspicuous part of the drawing-room, +and stepped gaily down to dinner. Much of the conversation +adverted to Richard. Mrs. Doria asked him if he +had seen the youth, or heard of him.</p> + +<p>"Seen him? no! Heard of him? yes!" said Adrian. "I +have heard of him. I heard that he was sublimely happy, +and had eaten such a breakfast that dinner was impossible; +claret and cold chicken, cake and"——</p> + +<p>"Cake at breakfast!" they all interjected.</p> + +<p>"That seems to be his fancy just now."</p> + +<p>"What an extraordinary taste!"</p> + +<p>"You know, he is educated on a System."</p> + +<p>One fast young male Forey allied the System and the +cake in a miserable pun. Adrian, a hater of puns, looked +at him, and held the table silent, as if he were going to +speak; but he said nothing, and the young gentleman vanished +from the conversation in a blush, extinguished by his +own spark.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria peevishly exclaimed, "Oh! fish-cake, I suppose! +I wish he understood a little better the obligations +of relationship."</p> + +<p>"Whether he understands them, I can't say," observed +Adrian, "but I assure you he is very energetic in extending +them."</p> + +<p>The wise youth talked innuendoes whenever he had an +opportunity, that his dear relative might be rendered sufficiently +inflammable by and by at the aspect of the cake; +but he was not thought more than commonly mysterious +and deep.</p> + +<p>"Was his appointment at the house of those Grandison +people?" Mrs. Doria asked, with a hostile upper-lip.</p> + +<p>Adrian warmed the blindfolded parties by replying, +"Do they keep a beadle at the door?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria's animosity to Mrs. Grandison made her +treat this as a piece of satirical ingenuousness. "I daresay +they do," she said.</p> + +<p>"And a curate on hand?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I should think a dozen!"</p> + +<p>Old Mr. Forey advised his punning grandson Clarence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +to give that house a wide berth, where he might be disposed +of and dished-up at a moment's notice, and the +scent ran off at a jest.</p> + +<p>The Foreys gave good dinners, and with the old gentleman +the excellent old fashion remained in permanence of +trooping off the ladies as soon as they had taken their +sustenance and just exchanged a smile with the flowers +and the dessert, when they rose to fade with a beautiful +accord, and the gallant males breathed under easier waistcoats, +and settled to the business of the table, sure that +an hour for unbosoming and imbibing was their own. +Adrian took a chair by Brandon Forey, a barrister of +standing.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask you," he said, "whether an infant in +law can legally bind himself."</p> + +<p>"If he's old enough to affix his signature to an instrument, +I suppose he can," yawned Brandon.</p> + +<p>"Is he responsible for his acts?"</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt we could hang him."</p> + +<p>"Then what he could do for himself, you could do for +him?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite so much; pretty near."</p> + +<p>"For instance, he can marry?"</p> + +<p>"That's not a criminal case, you know."</p> + +<p>"And the marriage is valid?"</p> + +<p>"You can dispute it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and the Greeks and the Trojans can fight. It +holds then?"</p> + +<p>"Both water and fire!"</p> + +<p>The patriarch of the table sang out to Adrian that he +stopped the vigorous circulation of the claret.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, sir!" said Adrian, "I beg pardon. The circumstances +must excuse me. The fact is, my cousin +Richard got married to a dairymaid this morning, and I +wanted to know whether it held in law."</p> + +<p>It was amusing to watch the manly coolness with which +the announcement was taken. Nothing was heard more +energetic than, "Deuce he has!" and, "A dairymaid!"</p> + +<p>"I thought it better to let the ladies dine in peace," +Adrian continued. "I wanted to be able to console my +aunt"——</p> + +<p>"Well, but—well, but," the old gentleman, much the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +most excited, puffed—"eh, Brandon? He's a boy, this +young ass! Do you mean to tell me a boy can go and +marry when he pleases, and any trull he pleases, and the +marriage is good? If I thought that I'd turn every +woman off my premises. I would! from the housekeeper +to the scullery-maid. I'd have no woman near him till—till"——</p> + +<p>"Till the young greenhorn was grey, sir?" suggested +Brandon.</p> + +<p>"Till he knew what women are made of, sir!" the old +gentleman finished his sentence vehemently. "What, d'ye +think, will Feverel say to it, Mr. Adrian?"</p> + +<p>"He has been trying the very System you have proposed, +sir—one that does not reckon on the powerful action of +curiosity on the juvenile intelligence. I'm afraid it's the +very worst way of solving the problem."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is," said Clarence. "None but a fool!"——</p> + +<p>"At your age," Adrian relieved his embarrassment, "it +is natural, my dear Clarence, that you should consider +the idea of an isolated or imprisoned manhood something +monstrous, and we do not expect you to see what amount +of wisdom it contains. You follow one extreme, and we +the other. I don't say that a middle course exists. The +history of mankind shows our painful efforts to find one, +but they have invariably resolved themselves into asceticism, +or laxity, acting and reacting. The moral question +is, if a naughty little man, by reason of his naughtiness, +releases himself from foolishness, does a foolish little man, +by reason of his foolishness, save himself from naughtiness?"</p> + +<p>A discussion, peculiar to men of the world, succeeded +the laugh at Mr. Clarence. Then coffee was handed round +and the footman informed Adrian, in a low voice, that +Mrs. Doria Forey particularly wished to speak with him. +Adrian preferred not to go in alone. "Very well," he +said, and sipped his coffee. They talked on, sounding the +depths of law in Brandon Forey, and receiving nought +but hollow echoes from that profound cavity. He would +not affirm that the marriage was invalid: he would not +affirm that it could not be annulled. He thought not: +still he thought it would be worth trying. A consummated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +and a non-consummated union were two +different things....</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" said Adrian, "does the Law recognize that? +Why, that's almost human!"</p> + +<p>Another message was brought to Adrian that Mrs. +Doria Forey <i>very</i> particularly wished to speak with him.</p> + +<p>"What can be the matter?" he exclaimed, pleased to +have his faith in woman strengthened. The cake had exploded, +no doubt.</p> + +<p>So it proved, when the gentlemen joined the fair society. +All the younger ladies stood about the table, whereon the +cake stood displayed, gaps being left for those sitting to +feast their vision, and intrude the comments and speculations +continually arising from fresh shocks of wonder at +the unaccountable apparition. Entering with the half-guilty +air of men who know they have come from a grosser +atmosphere, the gallant males also ranged themselves +round the common object of curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Here! Adrian!" Mrs. Doria cried. "Where is Adrian? +Pray, come here. Tell me! Where did this cake come +from? Whose is it? What does it do here? You know +all about it, for you brought it. Clare saw you bring it +into the room. What does it mean? I insist upon a +direct answer. Now do not make me impatient, Adrian."</p> + +<p>Certainly Mrs. Doria was equal to twenty. By her concentrated +rapidity and volcanic complexion it was evident +that suspicion had kindled.</p> + +<p>"I was really bound to bring it," Adrian protested.</p> + +<p>"Answer me!"</p> + +<p>The wise youth bowed: "Categorically. This cake came +from the house of a person, a female, of the name of +Berry. It belongs to you partly, partly to me, partly to +Clare, and to the rest of our family, on the principle of +equal division: for which purpose it is present...."</p> + +<p>"Yes! Speak!"</p> + +<p>"It means, my dear aunt, what that kind of cake usually +does mean."</p> + +<p>"This, then, is the Breakfast! And the ring! Adrian! +where is Richard?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria still clung to unbelief in the monstrous +horror.</p> + +<p>But when Adrian told her that Richard had left town,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +her struggling hope sank. "The wretched boy has ruined +himself!" she said, and sat down trembling.</p> + +<p>Oh! that System! The delicate vituperations gentle +ladies use instead of oaths, Mrs. Doria showered on that +System. She hesitated not to say that her brother had got +what he deserved. Opinionated, morbid, weak, justice had +overtaken him. Now he would see! but at what a price! +at what a sacrifice!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria commanded Adrian to confirm her fears.</p> + +<p>Sadly the wise youth recapitulated Berry's words. "He +was married this morning at half-past eleven of the clock, +or twenty to twelve, by licence, at the Kensington parish +church."</p> + +<p>"Then that was his appointment!" Mrs. Doria murmured.</p> + +<p>"That was the cake for breakfast!" breathed a second of +her sex.</p> + +<p>"And it was his ring!" exclaimed a third.</p> + +<p>The men were silent, and made long faces.</p> + +<p>Clare stood cold and sedate. She and her mother +avoided each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Is it that abominable country person, Adrian?"</p> + +<p>"The happy damsel is, I regret to say, the Papist dairymaid," +said Adrian, in sorrowful but deliberate accents.</p> + +<p>Then arose a feminine hum, in the midst of which Mrs. +Doria cried, "Brandon!" She was a woman of energy. +Her thoughts resolved to action spontaneously.</p> + +<p>"Brandon," she drew the barrister a little aside, "can +they not be followed, and separated? I want your advice. +Cannot we separate them? A boy! it is really shameful +if he should be allowed to fall into the toils of a designing +creature to ruin himself irrevocably. Can we not, Brandon?"</p> + +<p>The worthy barrister felt inclined to laugh, but he answered +her entreaties: "From what I hear of the young +groom I should imagine the office perilous."</p> + +<p>"I'm speaking of law, Brandon. Can we not obtain an +order from one of your Courts to pursue them and separate +them instantly?"</p> + +<p>"This evening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>Brandon was sorry to say she decidedly could not.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You might call on one of your Judges, Brandon."</p> + +<p>Brandon assured her that the Judges were a hard-worked +race, and to a man slept heavily after dinner.</p> + +<p>"Will you do so to-morrow, the first thing in the morning? +Will you promise me to do so, Brandon?—Or a +magistrate! A magistrate would send a policeman after +them. My dear Brandon! I beg—I beg you to assist us +in this dreadful extremity. It will be the death of my +poor brother. I believe he would forgive anything but +this. You have no idea what his notions are of blood."</p> + +<p>Brandon tipped Adrian a significant nod to step in and +aid.</p> + +<p>"What is it, aunt?" asked the wise youth. "You want +them followed and torn asunder by wild policemen?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow;" Brandon queerly interposed.</p> + +<p>"Won't that be—just too late?" Adrian suggested.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria sighed out her last spark of hope.</p> + +<p>"You see," said Adrian....</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!" Mrs. Doria did not require any of his +elucidations. "Pray be quiet, Adrian, and let me speak. +Brandon! it cannot be! it's quite impossible! Can you +stand there and tell me that boy is legally married? I +never will believe it! The law cannot be so shamefully +bad as to permit a boy—a mere child—to do such absurd +things. Grandpapa!" she beckoned to the old gentleman. +"Grandpapa! pray do make Brandon speak. These lawyers +never will. He might stop it, if he would. If I were +a man, do you think I would stand here?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," the old gentleman toddled to compose +her, "I'm quite of your opinion. I believe he knows no +more than you or I. My belief is they none of them know +anything till they join issue and go into Court. I want +to see a few female lawyers."</p> + +<p>"To encourage the bankrupt perruquier, sir?" said +Adrian. "They would have to keep a large supply of wigs +on hand."</p> + +<p>"And you can jest, Adrian!" his aunt reproached him. +"But I will not be beaten. I know—I am firmly convinced +that no law would ever allow a boy to disgrace his family +and ruin himself like that, and nothing shall persuade me +that it is so. Now, tell me, Brandon, and pray do speak in +answer to my questions, and please to forget you are dealing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +with a woman. <i>Can</i> my nephew be rescued from the +consequences of his folly? <i>Is</i> what he has done legitimate? +<i>Is</i> he bound for life by what he has done while a boy?"</p> + +<p>"Well—a," Brandon breathed through his teeth. +"A—hm! the matter's so very delicate, you see, Helen."</p> + +<p>"You're to forget that," Adrian remarked.</p> + +<p>"A—hm! well!" pursued Brandon. "Perhaps if you +could arrest and divide them before nightfall, and make +affidavit of certain facts"....</p> + +<p>"Yes?" the eager woman hastened his lagging mouth.</p> + +<p>"Well ... hm! a ... in that case ... a.... Or +if a lunatic, you could prove him to have been of unsound +mind."...</p> + +<p>"Oh! there's no doubt of his madness on <i>my</i> mind, +Brandon."</p> + +<p>"Yes! well! in that case.... Or if of different religious +persuasions"....</p> + +<p>"She <i>is</i> a Catholic!" Mrs. Doria joyfully interjected.</p> + +<p>"Yes! well! in that case ... objections might be taken +to the form of the marriage.... Might be proved fictitious.... +Or if he's under, say, eighteen years."</p> + +<p>"He <i>can't</i> be much more," cried Mrs. Doria. "I think," +she appeared to reflect, and then faltered imploringly to +Adrian, "What is Richard's age?"</p> + +<p>The kind wise youth could not find it in his heart to +strike away the phantom straw she caught at.</p> + +<p>"Oh! about that, I should fancy," he muttered, and +found it necessary at the same time to duck and turn his +head for concealment. Mrs. Doria surpassed his expectations.</p> + +<p>"Yes! well, then...." Brandon was resuming with a +shrug, which was meant to say he still pledged himself to +nothing, when Clare's voice was heard from out the buzzing +circle of her cousins: "Richard is nineteen years and +six months old to-day, mama."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child."</p> + +<p>"He is, mama." Clare's voice was very steadfast.</p> + +<p>"Non<i>sense</i>, I tell you. How <i>can</i> you know?"</p> + +<p>"Richard is one year and nine months older than me, +mama."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria fought the fact by years and finally by +months. Clare was too strong for her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Singular child!" she mentally apostrophized the girl +who scornfully rejected straws while drowning.</p> + +<p>"But there's the religion still!" she comforted herself, +and sat down to cogitate.</p> + +<p>The men smiled and looked vacuous.</p> + +<p>Music was proposed. There are times when soft music +hath not charms; when it is put to as base uses as Imperial +Cæsar's dust and is taken to fill horrid pauses. Angelica +Forey thumped the piano, and sang: "<i>I'm a laughing +Gitana, ha—ha! ha—ha!</i>" Matilda Forey and her cousin +Mary Bransburne wedded their voices, and songfully incited +all young people to <i>Haste to the bower that love has +built</i>, and defy the wise ones of the world; but the wise +ones of the world were in a majority there, and very few +places of assembly will be found where they are not; so +the glowing appeal of the British ballad-monger passed +into the bosom of the emptiness he addressed. Clare was +asked to entertain the company. The singular child +calmly marched to the instrument, and turned over the +appropriate illustrations to the ballad-monger's repertory.</p> + +<p>Clare sang a little Irish air. Her duty done, she +marched from the piano. Mothers are rarely deceived by +their daughters in these matters; but Clare deceived her +mother; and Mrs. Doria only persisted in feeling an agony +of pity for her child, that she might the more warrantably +pity herself—a not uncommon form of the emotion, for +there is no juggler like that heart the ballad-monger puts +into our mouths so boldly. Remember that she saw years +of self-denial, years of a ripening scheme, rendered fruitless +in a minute, and by the System which had almost +reduced her to the condition of constitutional hypocrite. +She had enough of bitterness to brood over, and some +excuse for self-pity.</p> + +<p>Still, even when she was cooler, Mrs. Doria's energetic +nature prevented her from giving up. Straws were +straws, and the frailer they were the harder she clutched +them.</p> + +<p>She rose from her chair, and left the room, calling to +Adrian to follow her.</p> + +<p>"Adrian," she said, turning upon him in the passage, +"you mentioned a house where this horrible cake ...<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +where he was this morning. I desire you to take me to +that woman immediately."</p> + +<p>The wise youth had not bargained for personal servitude. +He had hoped he should be in time for the last act +of the opera that night, after enjoying the comedy of +real life.</p> + +<p>"My dear aunt" ... he was beginning to insinuate.</p> + +<p>"Order a cab to be sent for, and get your hat," said Mrs. +Doria.</p> + +<p>There was nothing for it but to obey. He stamped his +assent to the <span class="smcap">Pilgrim's</span> dictum, that Women are practical +creatures, and now reflected on his own account, that relationship +to a young fool may be a vexation and a nuisance. +However, Mrs. Doria compensated him.</p> + +<p>What Mrs. Doria intended to do, the practical creature +did not plainly know; but her energy positively demanded +to be used in some way or other, and her instinct directed +her to the offender on whom she could use it in wrath. +She wanted somebody to be angry with, somebody to +abuse. She dared not abuse her brother to his face: him +she would have to console. Adrian was a fellow-hypocrite +to the System, and would, she was aware, bring her into +painfully delicate, albeit highly philosophic, ground by a +discussion of the case. So she drove to Bessy Berry simply +to inquire whither her nephew had flown.</p> + +<p>When a soft woman, and that soft woman a sinner, is +matched with a woman of energy, she does not show much +fight, and she meets no mercy. Bessy Berry's creditor +came to her in female form that night. She then beheld +it in all its terrors. Hitherto it had appeared to her as a +male, a disembodied spirit of her imagination possessing +male attributes, and the peculiar male characteristic of +being moved, and ultimately silenced, by tears. As +female, her creditor was terrible indeed. Still, had it not +been a late hour, Bessy Berry would have died rather +than speak openly that her babes had sped to make their +nest in the Isle of Wight. They had a long start, they +were out of the reach of pursuers, they were safe, and she +told what she had to tell. She told more than was wise +of her to tell. She made mention of her early service in +the family, and of her little pension. Alas! her little +pension! Her creditor had come expecting no payment—come,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +as creditors are wont in such moods, just to take +it out of her—to employ the familiar term. At once Mrs. +Doria pounced upon the pension.</p> + +<p>"That, of course, you know is at an end," she said in +the calmest manner, and Berry did not plead for the little +bit of bread to her. She only asked a little consideration +for her feelings.</p> + +<p>True admirers of women had better stand aside from +the scene. Undoubtedly it was very sad for Adrian to be +compelled to witness it. Mrs. Doria was not generous. +The <span class="smcap">Pilgrim</span> may be wrong about the sex not growing; +but its fashion of conducting warfare we must allow to +be barbarous, and according to what is deemed the +pristine, or wild cat, method. Ruin, nothing short of it, +accompanied poor Berry to her bed that night, and her +character bled till morning on her pillow.</p> + +<p>The scene over, Adrian reconducted Mrs. Doria to her +home. Mice had been at the cake during her absence +apparently. The ladies and gentlemen present put it on +the greedy mice, who were accused of having gorged and +gone to bed.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure they're quite welcome," said Mrs. Doria. "It's +a farce, this marriage, and Adrian has quite come to my +way of thinking. I would not touch an atom of it. Why, +they were married in a married woman's ring! Can <i>that</i> +be legal, as you call it? Oh, I'm convinced! Don't tell +me. Austin will be in town to-morrow, and if he is true +to his principles, he will instantly adopt measures to +rescue his son from infamy. I want no legal advice. I +go upon common sense, common decency. This marriage +is false."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria's fine scheme had become so much a part of +her life, that she could not give it up. She took Clare to +her bed, and caressed and wept over her, as she would not +have done had she known the singular child, saying, "Poor +Richard! my dear poor boy! we must save him, Clare! we +must save him!" Of the two the mother showed the +greater want of iron on this occasion. Clare lay in her +arms rigid and emotionless, with one of her hands tight-locked. +All she said was: "I knew it in the morning, +mama." She slept clasping Richard's nuptial ring.</p> + +<p>By this time all specially concerned in the System knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +it. The honeymoon was shining placidly above them. Is +not happiness like another circulating medium? When +we have a very great deal of it, some poor hearts are +aching for what is taken away from them. When we have +gone out and seized it on the highways, certain inscrutable +laws are sure to be at work to bring us to the criminal +bar, sooner or later. Who knows the honeymoon that +did not steal somebody's sweetness? Richard Turpin went +forth, singing "Money or life" to the world: Richard +Feverel has done the same, substituting "Happiness" +for "Money," frequently synonyms. The coin he wanted +he would have, and was just as much a highway robber +as his fellow Dick, so that those who have failed to +recognize him as a hero before, may now regard him +in that light. Meanwhile the world he has squeezed looks +exceedingly patient and beautiful. His coin chinks delicious +music to him. Nature and the order of things on +earth have no warmer admirer than a jolly brigand or +a young man made happy by the Jews.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>NURSING THE DEVIL</h3> + + +<p>And now the author of the System was on trial under +the eyes of the lady who loved him. What so kind as +they? Yet are they very rigorous, those soft watchful +woman's eyes. If you are below the measure they have +made of you, you will feel it in the fulness of time. +She cannot but show you that she took you for a giant, +and has had to come down a bit. You feel yourself +strangely diminishing in those sweet mirrors, till at last +they drop on you complacently level. But, oh, beware, +vain man, of ever waxing enamoured of that wonderful +elongation of a male creature you saw reflected in her +adoring upcast orbs! Beware of assisting to delude her! +A woman who is not quite a fool will forgive your being +but a man, if you are surely that: she will haply learn +to acknowledge that no mortal tailor could have fitted +that figure she made of you respectably, and that practically<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +(though she sighs to think it) her ideal of you +was on the pattern of an overgrown charity-boy in the +regulation jacket and breech. For this she first scorns +the narrow capacities of the tailor, and then smiles at +herself. But shouldst thou, when the hour says plainly, +Be thyself, and the woman is willing to take thee as +thou art, shouldst thou still aspire to be that thing of +shanks and wrists, wilt thou not seem contemptible as +well as ridiculous? And when the fall comes, will it +not be flat on thy face, instead of to the common height +of men? You may fall miles below her measure of you, +and be safe: nothing is damaged save an overgrown +charity-boy; but if you fall below the common height +of men, you must make up your mind to see her rustle +her gown, spy at the looking-glass, and transfer her +allegiance. The moral of which is, that if we pretend +to be what we are not, woman, for whose amusement the +farce is performed, will find us out and punish us for it. +And it is usually the end of a sentimental dalliance.</p> + +<p>Had Sir Austin given vent to the pain and wrath it +was natural he should feel, he might have gone to unphilosophic +excesses, and, however much he lowered his +reputation as a sage, Lady Blandish would have excused +him: she would not have loved him less for seeing him +closer. But the poor gentleman tasked his soul and +stretched his muscles to act up to her conception of +him. He, a man of science in life, who was bound to +be surprised by nothing in nature, it was not for him +to do more than lift his eyebrows and draw in his lips +at the news delivered by Ripton Thompson, that ill bird +at Raynham.</p> + +<p>All he said, after Ripton had handed the letters and +carried his penitential headache to bed, was: "You see, +Emmeline, it is useless to base any system on a human +being."</p> + +<p>A very philosophical remark for one who has been busily +at work building for nearly twenty years. Too philosophical +to seem genuine. It revealed where the blow struck +sharpest. Richard was no longer the Richard of his creation—his +pride and his joy—but simply a human being +with the rest. The bright star had sunk among the +mass.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<p>And yet, what had the young man done? And in what +had the System failed?</p> + +<p>The lady could not but ask herself this, while she condoled +with the offended father.</p> + +<p>"My friend," she said, tenderly taking his hand before +she retired, "I know how deeply you must be grieved. I +know what your disappointment must be. I do not beg of +you to forgive him now. You cannot doubt his love for +this young person, and according to his light, has he not +behaved honourably, and as you would have wished, rather +than bring her to shame? You will think of that. It +has been an accident—a misfortune—a terrible misfortune"....</p> + +<p>"The God of this world is in the machine—not out of +it," Sir Austin interrupted her, and pressed her hand to +get the good-night over.</p> + +<p>At any other time her mind would have been arrested to +admire the phrase; now it seemed perverse, vain, false, and +she was tempted to turn the meaning that was in it against +himself, much as she pitied him.</p> + +<p>"You know, Emmeline," he added, "I believe very little +in the fortune, or misfortune, to which men attribute +their successes and reverses. They are useful impersonations +to novelists; but my opinion is sufficiently high of +flesh and blood to believe that we make our own history +without intervention. Accidents?—Terrible misfortunes?—What +are they?—Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," she said, looking sad and troubled. +"When I said, 'misfortune,' I meant, of course, that he is +to blame, but—shall I leave you his letter to me?"</p> + +<p>"I think I have enough to meditate upon," he replied, +coldly bowing.</p> + +<p>"God bless you," she whispered. "And—may I say it? +do not shut your heart."</p> + +<p>He assured her that he hoped not to do so, and the moment +she was gone he set about shutting it as tight as +he could.</p> + +<p>If, instead of saying, Base no system on a human being, +he had said, Never experimentalize with one, he would +have been nearer the truth of his own case. He had +experimented on humanity in the person of the son he +loved as his life, and at once, when the experiment appeared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +to have failed, all humanity's failings fell on the +shoulders of his son. Richard's parting laugh in the +train—it was explicable now: it sounded in his ears like +the mockery of this base nature of ours at every endeavor +to exalt and chasten it. The young man had +plotted this. From step to step Sir Austin traced the +plot. The curious mask he had worn since his illness; +the selection of his incapable uncle Hippias for a companion +in preference to Adrian; it was an evident, well-perfected +plot. That hideous laugh would not be silenced. +Base, like the rest, treacherous, a creature of passions +using his abilities solely to gratify them—never surely +had humanity such chances as in him! A Manichæan +tendency, from which the sententious eulogist of nature +had been struggling for years (and which was partly at +the bottom of the System), now began to cloud and usurp +dominion of his mind. As he sat alone in the forlorn +dead-hush of his library, he saw the devil.</p> + +<p>How are we to know when we are at the head and fountain +of the fates of them we love?</p> + +<p>There by the springs of Richard's future, his father sat: +and the devil said to him: "Only be quiet: do nothing: +resolutely do nothing: your object now is to keep a brave +face to the world, so that all may know you superior to +this human nature that has deceived you. For it is the +shameless deception, not the marriage, that has wounded +you."</p> + +<p>"Ay!" answered the baronet, "the shameless deception, +not the marriage: wicked and ruinous as it must be; a +destroyer of my tenderest hopes! my dearest schemes! +Not the marriage—the shameless deception!" and he +crumpled up his son's letter to him, and tossed it into +the fire.</p> + +<p>How are we to distinguish the dark chief of the Manichæans +when he talks our own thoughts to us?</p> + +<p>Further he whispered, "And your System:—if you +would be brave to the world, have courage to cast the +dream of it out of you: relinquish an impossible project; +see it as it is—dead: too good for men!"</p> + +<p>"Ay!" muttered the baronet: "all who would save them +perish on the Cross!"</p> + +<p>And so he sat nursing the devil.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<p>By and by he took his lamp, and put on the old cloak +and cap, and went to gaze at Ripton. That exhausted +debauchee and youth without a destiny slept a dead sleep. +A handkerchief was bound about his forehead, and his +helpless sunken chin and snoring nose projected up the +pillow, made him look absurdly piteous. The baronet remembered +how often he had compared his boy with this +one: his own bright boy! And where was the difference +between them?</p> + +<p>"Mere outward gilding!" said his familiar.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he responded, "I daresay this one never positively +plotted to deceive his father: he followed his appetites +unchecked, and is internally the sounder of the +two."</p> + +<p>Ripton, with his sunken chin and snoring nose under +the light of the lamp, stood for human nature, honest, +however abject.</p> + +<p>"Miss Random, I fear very much, is a necessary establishment!" +whispered the monitor.</p> + +<p>"Does the evil in us demand its natural food, or it +corrupts the whole?" ejaculated Sir Austin. "And is no +angel of avail till that is drawn off? And is that our conflict—to +see whether we can escape the contagion of its +embrace, and come uncorrupted out of that?"</p> + +<p>"The world is wise in its way," said the voice.</p> + +<p>"Though it look on itself through Port wine?" he suggested, +remembering his lawyer Thompson.</p> + +<p>"Wise in not seeking to be too wise," said the voice.</p> + +<p>"And getting intoxicated on its drug of comfort!"</p> + +<p>"Human nature is weak."</p> + +<p>"And Miss Random is an establishment, and Wild Oats +an institution!"</p> + +<p>"It always has been so."</p> + +<p>"And always will be?"</p> + +<p>"So I fear! in spite of your very noble efforts."</p> + +<p>"And leads—whither? And ends—where?"</p> + +<p>Richard's laugh, taken up by horrid reverberations, as +it were through the lengths of the Lower Halls, replied.</p> + +<p>This colloquy of two voices in a brain was concluded by +Sir Austin asking again if there were no actual difference +between the flower of his hopes and yonder drunken weed, +and receiving for answer that there was a decided dissimilarity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +in the smell of the couple; becoming cognizant of +which he retreated.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin did not battle with the tempter. He took +him into his bosom at once, as if he had been ripe for +him, and received his suggestions and bowed to his dictates. +Because he suffered, and decreed that he would +suffer silently, and be the only sufferer, it seemed to him +that he was great-minded in his calamity. He had stood +against the world. The world had beaten him. What +then? He must shut his heart and mask his face; that +was all. To be far in advance of the mass, is as fruitless +to mankind, he reflected, as straggling in the rear. For +how do we know that they move behind us at all, or move +in our track? What we win for them is lost; and where +we are overthrown we lie!</p> + +<p>It was thus that a fine mind and a fine heart at the +bounds of a nature not great, chose to colour his retrogression +and countenance his shortcoming; and it was +thus that he set about ruining the work he had done. He +might well say, as he once did, that there are hours when +the clearest soul becomes a cunning fox. For a grief that +was private and peculiar, he unhesitatingly cast the blame +upon humanity; just as he had accused it in the period of +what he termed his own ordeal. How had he borne that? +By masking his face. And he prepared the ordeal for his +son by doing the same. This was by no means his idea +of a man's duty in tribulation, about which he could be +strenuously eloquent. But it was his instinct so to act, +and in times of trial great natures alone are not at the +mercy of their instincts. Moreover it would cost him +pain to mask his face; pain worse than that he endured +when there still remained an object for him to open his +heart to in proportion; and he always reposed upon the +Spartan comfort of bearing pain and being passive. "Do +nothing," said the devil he nursed; which meant in his +case, "Take me into you and don't cast me out." Excellent +and sane is the outburst of wrath to men, when +it stops short of slaughter. For who that locks it up to +eat in solitary, can say that it is consumed? Sir Austin +had as weak a digestion for wrath, as poor Hippias for a +green duckling. Instead of eating it, it ate him. The +wild beast in him was not the less deadly because it did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +not roar, and the devil in him not the less active because +he resolved to do nothing.</p> + +<p>He sat at the springs of Richard's future, in the forlorn +dead-hush of his library there, hearing the cinders click in +the extinguished fire, and that humming stillness in which +one may fancy one hears the midnight Fates busily stirring +their embryos. The lamp glowed mildly on the bust +of Chatham.</p> + +<p>Toward morning a gentle knock fell at his door. Lady +Blandish glided in. With hasty step she came straight to +him, and took both his hands.</p> + +<p>"My friend," she said, speaking tearfully, and trembling, +"I feared I should find you here. I could not sleep. +How is it with you?"</p> + +<p>"Well! Emmeline, well!" he replied, torturing his brows +to fix the mask.</p> + +<p>He wished it had been Adrian who had come to him. +He had an extraordinary longing for Adrian's society. +He knew that the wise youth would divine how to treat +him, and he mentally confessed to just enough weakness +to demand a certain kind of management. Besides, +Adrian, he had not a doubt, would accept him entirely +as he seemed, and not pester him in any way by trying to +unlock his heart; whereas a woman, he feared, would be +waxing too womanly, and swelling from tears and supplications +to a scene, of all things abhorred by him the most. +So he rapped the floor with his foot, and gave the lady +no very welcome face when he said it was well with him.</p> + +<p>She sat down by his side, still holding one hand firmly, +and softly detaining the other.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my friend! may I believe you? May I speak to +you?" She leaned close to him. "You know my heart. +I have no better ambition than to be your friend. Surely +I divide your grief, and may I not claim your confidence? +Who has wept more over your great and dreadful sorrows? +I would not have come to you, but I do believe that sorrow +shared relieves the burden, and it is now that you may +feel a woman's aid, and something of what a woman +could be to you." ...</p> + +<p>"Be assured," he gravely said, "I thank you, Emmeline, +for your intentions."</p> + +<p>"No, no! not for my intentions! And do not thank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +me. Think of him ... think of your dear boy.... +Our Richard, as we have called him.—Oh! do not think +it a foolish superstition of mine, but I have had a thought +this night that has kept me in torment till I rose to +speak to you.... Tell me first you have forgiven +him."</p> + +<p>"A father bears no malice to his son, Emmeline."</p> + +<p>"Your heart has forgiven him?"</p> + +<p>"My heart has taken what he gave."</p> + +<p>"And quite forgiven him?"</p> + +<p>"You will hear no complaints of mine."</p> + +<p>The lady paused despondingly, and looked at him in +a wistful manner, saying with a sigh, "Yes! I know how +noble you are, and different from others!"</p> + +<p>He drew one of his hands from her relaxed hold.</p> + +<p>"You ought to be in bed, Emmeline."</p> + +<p>"I cannot sleep."</p> + +<p>"Go, and talk to me another time."</p> + +<p>"No, it must be now. You have helped me when I struggled +to rise into a clearer world, and I think, humble as I +am, I can help you now. I have had a thought this night +that if you do not pray for him and bless him ... it will +end miserably. My friend, have you done so?"</p> + +<p>He was stung and offended, and could hardly help showing +it in spite of his mask.</p> + +<p>"Have you done so, Austin?"</p> + +<p>"This is assuredly a new way of committing fathers to +the follies of their sons, Emmeline!"</p> + +<p>"No, not that. But will you pray for your boy, and bless +him, before the day comes?"</p> + +<p>He restrained himself to pronounce his words calmly:—"And +I must do this, or it will end in misery? How else +can it end? Can I save him from the seed he has sown? +Consider, Emmeline, what you say. He has repeated his +cousin's sin. You see the end of that."...</p> + +<p>"Oh, so different! This young person is <i>not</i>, is <i>not</i> of +the class poor Austin Wentworth allied himself to. Indeed +it is different. And he—be just and admit his nobleness. +I fancied you did. This young person has great +beauty, she has the elements of good breeding, she—indeed +I think, had she been in another position, you would +not have looked upon her unfavourably."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She may be too good for my son!" The baronet spoke +with sublime bitterness.</p> + +<p>"No woman is too good for Richard, and you know it."</p> + +<p>"Pass her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will speak only of him. He met her by a fatal +accident. We thought his love dead, and so did he till he +saw her again. He met her, he thought we were plotting +against him, he thought he should lose her for ever, and in +the madness of an hour he did this." ...</p> + +<p>"My Emmeline pleads bravely for clandestine matches."</p> + +<p>"Ah! do not trifle, my friend. Say: would you have had +him act as young men in his position generally do to +young women beneath them?"</p> + +<p>Sir Austin did not like the question. It probed him +very severely.</p> + +<p>"You mean," he said, "that fathers must fold their +arms, and either submit to infamous marriages, or have +these creatures ruined."</p> + +<p>"I do <i>not</i> mean that," exclaimed the lady, striving for +what she did mean, and how to express it. "I mean that ... +he loved her. Is it not a madness at his age? But +what I chiefly mean is—save him from the consequences. +No, you shall not withdraw your hand. Think of his +pride, his sensitiveness, his great wild nature—wild when +he is set wrong: think how intense it is, set upon love; +think, my friend, do not forget his love for you."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin smiled an admirable smile of pity.</p> + +<p>"That I should save him, or any one, from consequences, +is asking more than the order of things will allow to you, +Emmeline, and is not in the disposition of this world. I +cannot. Consequences are the natural offspring of acts. +My child, you are talking sentiment, which is the distraction +of our modern age in everything—a phantasmal +vapour distorting the image of the life we live. You ask +me to give him a golden age in spite of himself. All that +could be done, by keeping him in the paths of virtue and +truth, I did. He is become a man, and as a man he must +reap his own sowing."</p> + +<p>The baffled lady sighed. He sat so rigid: he spoke so +securely, as if wisdom were to him more than the love of +his son. And yet he did love his son. Feeling sure that +he loved his son while he spoke so loftily, she reverenced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +him still, baffled as she was, and sensible that she had been +quibbled with.</p> + +<p>"All I ask of you is to open your heart to him," she +said.</p> + +<p>He kept silent.</p> + +<p>"Call him a man,—he is, and must ever be the child of +your education, my friend."</p> + +<p>"You would console me, Emmeline, with the prospect +that, if he ruins himself, he spares the world of young +women. Yes, that is something!"</p> + +<p>Closely she scanned the mask. It was impenetrable. +He could meet her eyes, and respond to the pressure of her +hand, and smile, and not show what he felt. Nor did he +deem it hypocritical to seek to maintain his elevation in +her soft soul, by simulating supreme philosophy over +offended love. Nor did he know that he had an angel +with him then: a blind angel, and a weak one, but one +who struck upon his chance.</p> + +<p>"Am I pardoned for coming to you?" she said, after a +pause.</p> + +<p>"Surely I can read my Emmeline's intentions," he +gently replied.</p> + +<p>"Very poor ones. I feel my weakness. I cannot utter +half I have been thinking. Oh, if I could!"</p> + +<p>"You speak very well, Emmeline."</p> + +<p>"At least, I am pardoned!"</p> + +<p>"Surely so."</p> + +<p>"And before I leave you, dear friend, shall I be forgiven?—may +I beg it?—will you bless him?"</p> + +<p>He was again silent.</p> + +<p>"Pray for him, Austin! pray for him ere the night is +over."</p> + +<p>As she spoke she slid down to his feet and pressed his +hand to her bosom.</p> + +<p>The baronet was startled. In very dread of the soft fit +that wooed him, he pushed back his chair, and rose, and +went to the window.</p> + +<p>"It's day already!" he said with assumed vivacity, +throwing open the shutters, and displaying the young +light on the lawn.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish dried her tears as she knelt, and then +joined him, and glanced up silently at Richard's moon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +standing in wane toward the West. She hoped it was because +of her having been premature in pleading so earnestly, +that she had failed to move him, and she accused +herself more than the baronet. But in acting as she had +done, she had treated him as no common man, and she +was compelled to perceive that his heart was at present +hardly superior to the hearts of ordinary men, however +composed his face might be, and apparently serene his +wisdom. From that moment she grew critical of him, and +began to study her idol—a process dangerous to idols. He, +now that she seemed to have relinquished the painful +subject, drew to her, and as one who wished to smooth a +foregone roughness, murmured: "God's rarest blessing is, +after all, a good woman! My Emmeline bears her sleepless +night well. She does not shame the day." He gazed +down on her with a fondling tenderness.</p> + +<p>"I could bear many, many!" she replied, meeting his +eyes, "and you would see me look better and better, if ... +if only ..." but she had no encouragement to end the +sentence.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he wanted some mute form of consolation; perhaps +the handsome placid features of the dark-eyed dame +touched him: at any rate their Platonism was advanced +by his putting an arm about her. She felt the arm and +talked of the morning.</p> + +<p>Thus proximate, they by and by both heard something +very like a groan behind them, and looking round, beheld +the Saurian eye. Lady Blandish smiled, but the baronet's +discomposure was not to be concealed. By a strange fatality +every stage of their innocent loves was certain to have +a human beholder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm sure I beg pardon," Benson mumbled, arresting +his head in a melancholy pendulosity. He was +ordered out of the room.</p> + +<p>"And I think I shall follow him, and try to get forty +winks," said Lady Blandish. They parted with a quiet +squeeze of hands.</p> + +<p>The baronet then called in Benson.</p> + +<p>"Get me my breakfast as soon as you can," he said, +regardless of the aspect of injured conscience Benson +sombrely presented to him. "I am going to town early. +And, Benson," he added, "you will also go to town this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +afternoon, or to-morrow, if it suits you, and take your +book with you to Mr. Thompson. You will not return +here. A provision will be made for you. You can go."</p> + +<p>The heavy butler essayed to speak, but the tremendous +blow and the baronet's gesture choked him. At the door +he made another effort which shook the rolls of his loose +skin pitiably. An impatient signal sent him out dumb,—and +Raynham was quit of the one believer in the Great +Shaddock dogma.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>CONQUEST OF AN EPICURE</h3> + + +<p>It was the month of July. The Solent ran up green +waves before a full-blowing South-wester. Gay little +yachts bounded out like foam, and flashed their sails, light +as sea-nymphs. A crown of deep Summer blue topped the +flying mountains of cloud.</p> + +<p>By an open window that looked on the brine through +nodding roses, our young bridal pair were at breakfast, +regaling worthily, both of them. Had the Scientific Humanist +observed them, he could not have contested the +fact, that as a couple who had set up to be father and +mother of Britons, they were doing their duty. Files of +egg-cups with disintegrated shells bore witness to it, and +they were still at work, hardly talking from rapidity of +exercise. Both were dressed for an expedition. She had +her bonnet on, and he his yachting-hat. His sleeves were +turned over at the wrists, and her gown showed its lining +on her lap. At times a chance word might spring a laugh, +but eating was the business of the hour, as I would have +you to know it always will be where Cupid is in earnest. +Tribute flowed in to them from the subject land. Neglected +lies Love's penny-whistle on which they played +so prettily and charmed the spheres to hear them. What +do they care for the spheres, who have one another? +Come, eggs! come, bread and butter! come, tea with +sugar in it and milk! and welcome, the jolly hours. That +is a fair interpretation of the music in them just now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +Yonder instrument was good only for the overture. After +all, what finer aspiration can lovers have, than to be free +man and woman in the heart of plenty? And is it not a +glorious level to have attained? Ah, wretched Scientific +Humanist! not to be by and mark the admirable sight of +these young creatures feeding. It would have been a spell +to exorcise the Manichee, methinks.</p> + +<p>The mighty performance came to an end, and then, with +a flourish of his table-napkin, husband stood over wife, +who met him on the confident budding of her mouth. The +poetry of mortals is their daily prose. Is it not a glorious +level to have attained? A short, quick-blooded kiss, radiant, +fresh, and honest as Aurora, and then Richard +says without lack of cheer, "No letter to-day, my Lucy!" +whereat her sweet eyes dwell on him a little seriously, +but he cries, "Never mind! he'll be coming down himself +some morning. He has only to know her, and all's well! +eh?" and so saying he puts a hand beneath her chin, and +seems to frame her fair face in fancy, she smiling up to +be looked at.</p> + +<p>"But one thing I do want to ask my darling," says Lucy, +and dropped into his bosom with hands of petition. "Take +me on board his yacht with him to-day—not leave me with +those people! Will he? I'm a good sailor, he knows!"</p> + +<p>"The best afloat!" laughs Richard, hugging her, "but, +you know, you darling bit of a sailor, they don't allow +more than a certain number on board for the race, and if +they hear you've been with me, there'll be cries of foul +play! Besides, there's Lady Judith to talk to you about +Austin, and Lord Mountfalcon's compliments for you to +listen to, and Mr. Morton to take care of you."</p> + +<p>Lucy's eyes fixed sideways an instant.</p> + +<p>"I hope I don't frown and blush as I did?" she said, +screwing her pliable brows up to him winningly, and he +bent his cheek against hers, and murmured something +delicious.</p> + +<p>"And we shall be separated for—how many hours? one, +two, three hours!" she pouted to his flatteries.</p> + +<p>"And then I shall come on board to receive my bride's +congratulations."</p> + +<p>"And then my husband will talk all the time to Lady +Judith."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And then I shall see my wife frowning and blushing at +Lord Mountfalcon."</p> + +<p>"Am I so foolish, Richard?" she forgot her trifling to +ask in an earnest way, and had another Aurorean kiss, +just brushing the dew on her lips, for answer.</p> + +<p>After hiding a month in shyest shade, the pair of happy +sinners had wandered forth one day to look on men and +marvel at them, and had chanced to meet Mr. Morton of +Poer Hall, Austin Wentworth's friend, and Ralph's uncle. +Mr. Morton had once been intimate with the baronet, but +had given him up for many years as impracticable and +hopeless, for which reason he was the more inclined to regard +Richard's misdemeanour charitably, and to lay the +faults of the son on the father; and thinking society to be +the one thing requisite to the young man, he had introduced +him to the people he knew in the island; among +others to the Lady Judith Felle, a fair young dame, who +introduced him to Lord Mountfalcon, a puissant nobleman; +who introduced him to the yachtsmen beginning to +congregate; so that in a few weeks he found himself in +the centre of a brilliant company, and for the first time +in his life tasted what it was to have free intercourse with +his fellow-creatures of both sexes. The son of a System +was, therefore, launched; not only through the surf, but +in deep waters.</p> + +<p>Now the baronet had so far compromised between the +recurrence of his softer feelings and the suggestions of his +new familiar, that he had determined to act toward Richard +with justness. The world called it magnanimity, and +even Lady Blandish had some thoughts of the same kind +when she heard that he had decreed to Richard a handsome +allowance, and had scouted Mrs. Doria's proposal +for him to contest the legality of the marriage; but Sir +Austin knew well he was simply just in not withholding +money from a youth so situated. And here again the +world deceived him by embellishing his conduct. For +what is it to be just to whom we love! He knew it was +not magnanimous, but the cry of the world somehow +fortified him in the conceit that in dealing perfect justice +to his son he was doing all that was possible, because so +much more than common fathers would have done. He +had shut his heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<p>Consequently Richard did not want money. What he +wanted more, and did not get, was a word from his +father, and though he said nothing to sadden his young +bride, she felt how much it preyed upon him to be at +variance with the man whom, now that he had offended +him and gone against him, he would have fallen on his +knees to; the man who was as no other man to him. She +heard him of nights when she lay by his side, and the +darkness, and the broken mutterings, of those nights +clothed the figure of the strange stern man in her mind. +Not that it affected the appetites of the pretty pair. We +must not expect that of Cupid enthroned and in condition; +under the influence of sea-air, too. The files of egg-cups +laugh at such an idea. Still the worm did gnaw them. +Judge, then, of their delight when, on this pleasant morning, +as they were issuing from the garden of their cottage +to go down to the sea, they caught sight of Tom Bakewell +rushing up the road with a portmanteau on his shoulders, +and, some distance behind him, discerned Adrian.</p> + +<p>"It's all right!" shouted Richard, and ran off to meet +him, and never left his hand till he had hauled him up, +firing questions at him all the way, to where Lucy stood.</p> + +<p>"Lucy! this is Adrian, my cousin."—"Isn't he an +angel?" his eyes seemed to add; while Lucy's clearly +answered, "That he is!"</p> + +<p>The full-bodied angel ceremoniously bowed to her, and +acted with reserved unction the benefactor he saw in their +greetings. "I think we are not strangers," he was good +enough to remark, and very quickly let them know he had +not breakfasted; on hearing which they hurried him into +the house, and Lucy put herself in motion to have him +served.</p> + +<p>"Dear old Rady," said Richard, tugging at his hand +again, "how glad I am you've come! I don't mind telling +you we've been horridly wretched."</p> + +<p>"Six, seven, eight, nine eggs," was Adrian's comment +on a survey of the breakfast-table.</p> + +<p>"Why wouldn't he write? Why didn't he answer one of +my letters? But here you are, so I don't mind now. He +wants to see us, does he? We'll go up to-night. I've a +match on at eleven; my little yacht—I've called her the +'Blandish'—against Fred Currie's 'Begum.' I shall beat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +but whether I do or not, we'll go up to-night. What's the +news? What are they all doing?"</p> + +<p>"My dear boy!" Adrian returned, sitting comfortably +down, "let me put myself a little more on an equal footing +with you before I undertake to reply. Half that number +of eggs will be sufficient for an unmarried man, and then +we'll talk. They're all very well, as well as I can recollect +after the shaking my total vacuity has had this morning. +I came over by the first boat, and the sea, the sea has made +me love mother earth, and desire of her fruits."</p> + +<p>Richard fretted restlessly opposite his cool relative.</p> + +<p>"Adrian! what did he say when he heard of it? I want +to know exactly what words he said."</p> + +<p>"Well says the sage, my son! 'Speech is the small +change of Silence.' He said less than I do."</p> + +<p>"That's how he took it!" cried Richard, and plunged in +meditation.</p> + +<p>Soon the table was cleared, and laid out afresh, and +Lucy preceded the maid bearing eggs on the tray, and sat +down unbonneted, and like a thorough-bred housewife, to +pour out the tea for him.</p> + +<p>"Now, we'll commence," said Adrian, tapping his egg +with meditative cheerfulness; but his expression soon +changed to one of pain, all the more alarming for his +benevolent efforts to conceal it. Could it be possible the +egg was bad? oh, horror! Lucy watched him, and waited +in trepidation.</p> + +<p>"This egg has boiled three minutes and three-quarters," +he observed, ceasing to contemplate it.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear!" said Lucy, "I boiled them myself exactly +that time. Richard likes them so. And you like them +hard, Mr. Harley?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I like them soft. Two minutes and a +half, or three-quarters at the outside. An egg should +never rashly verge upon hardness—never. Three minutes +is the excess of temerity."</p> + +<p>"If Richard had told me! If I had only known!" the +lovely little hostess interjected ruefully, biting her lip.</p> + +<p>"We mustn't expect him to pay attention to such matters," +said Adrian, trying to smile.</p> + +<p>"Hang it! there are more eggs in the house," cried +Richard, and pulled savagely at the bell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucy jumped up, saying, "Oh, yes! I will go and boil +some exactly the time you like. Pray let me go, Mr. +Harley."</p> + +<p>Adrian restrained her departure with a motion of his +hand. "No," he said, "I will be ruled by Richard's tastes, +and heaven grant me his digestion!"</p> + +<p>Lucy threw a sad look at Richard, who stretched on a +sofa, and left the burden of the entertainment entirely to +her. The eggs were a melancholy beginning, but her +ardour to please Adrian would not be damped, and she +deeply admired his resignation. If she failed in pleasing +this glorious herald of peace, no matter by what small +misadventure, she apprehended calamity; so there sat this +fair dove with brows at work above her serious smiling +blue eyes, covertly studying every aspect of the plump-faced +epicure, that she might learn to propitiate him. "He shall +not think me timid and stupid," thought this brave girl, +and indeed Adrian was astonished to find that she could +both chat and be useful, as well as look ornamental. When +he had finished one egg, behold, two fresh ones came in, +boiled according to his prescription. She had quietly +given her orders to the maid, and he had them without +fuss. Possibly his look of dismay at the offending eggs +had not been altogether involuntary, and her woman's +instinct, inexperienced as she was, may have told her that +he had come prepared to be not very well satisfied with +anything in Love's cottage. There was mental faculty +in those pliable brows to see through, and combat, an +unwitting wise youth.</p> + +<p>How much she had achieved already she partly divined +when Adrian said: "I think now I'm in case to answer +your questions, my dear boy—thanks to Mrs. Richard," +and he bowed to her his first direct acknowledgment of +her position. Lucy thrilled with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Richard, and settled easily on his back.</p> + +<p>"To begin, the Pilgrim has lost his Note-book, and has +been persuaded to offer a reward which shall maintain the +happy finder thereof in an asylum for life. Benson—superlative +Benson—has turned his shoulders upon Raynham. +None know whither he has departed. It is believed +that the sole surviving member of the sect of the Shaddock-Dogmatists +is under a total eclipse of Woman."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Benson gone?" Richard exclaimed. "What a tremendous +time it seems since I left Raynham!"</p> + +<p>"So it is, my dear boy. The honeymoon is Mahomet's +minute; or say, the Persian King's water-pail that you +read of in the story: You dip your head in it, and when +you draw it out, you discover that you have lived a life. +To resume: your uncle Algernon still roams in pursuit +of the lost one—I should say, hops. Your uncle Hippias +has a new and most perplexing symptom: a determination +of bride-cake to the nose. Ever since your generous +present to him, though he declares he never consumed a +morsel of it, he has been under the distressing illusion that +his nose is enormous, and I assure you he exhibits quite +a maidenly timidity in following it—through a doorway, +for instance. He complains of its terrible weight. I have +conceived that Benson invisible might be sitting on it. +His hand, and the doctor's, are in hourly consultation with +it, but I fear it will not grow smaller. The Pilgrim has +begotten upon it a new Aphorism: that Size is a matter +of opinion."</p> + +<p>"Poor uncle Hippy!" said Richard, "I wonder he doesn't +believe in magic. There's nothing supernatural to rival +the wonderful sensations he does believe in. Good God! +fancy coming to that!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I'm very sorry," Lucy protested, "but I can't +help laughing."</p> + +<p>Charming to the wise youth her pretty laughter +sounded.</p> + +<p>"The Pilgrim has your notion, Richard. Whom does +he not forestall? 'Confirmed dyspepsia is the apparatus +of illusions,' and he accuses the Ages that put faith in sorcery, +of universal indigestion, which may have been the +case, owing to their infamous cookery. He says again, if +you remember, that our own Age is travelling back to +darkness and ignorance through dyspepsia. He lays the +seat of wisdom in the centre of our system, Mrs. Richard: +for which reason you will understand how sensible I am +of the vast obligation I am under to you at the present +moment, for your especial care of mine."</p> + +<p>Richard looked on at Lucy's little triumph, attributing +Adrian's subjugation to her beauty and sweetness. She +had latterly received a great many compliments on that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +score, which she did not care to hear, and Adrian's homage +to a practical quality was far pleasanter to the young +wife, who shrewdly guessed that her beauty would not +help her much in the struggle she had now to maintain. +Adrian continuing to lecture on the excelling virtues of +wise cookery, a thought struck her: Where, where had she +tossed Mrs. Berry's book?</p> + +<p>"So that's all about the home-people?" said Richard.</p> + +<p>"All!" replied Adrian. "Or stay: you know Clare's +going to be married? Not? Your Aunt Helen"——</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother my Aunt Helen! What do you think she had +the impertinence to write—but never mind! Is it to Ralph?"</p> + +<p>"Your Aunt Helen, I was going to say, my dear boy, is +an extraordinary woman. It was from her originally that +the Pilgrim first learnt to call the female the practical +animal. He studies us all, you know. <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's +Scrip</span> is the abstract portraiture of his surrounding relatives. +Well, your Aunt Helen"——</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Doria Battledoria!" laughed Richard.</p> + +<p>"——being foiled in a little pet scheme of her own—call +it a System if you like—of some ten or fifteen years' +standing, with regard to Miss Clare!"——</p> + +<p>"The fair Shuttlecockiana!"</p> + +<p>"——instead of fretting like a man, and questioning +Providence, and turning herself and everybody else inside +out, and seeing the world upside down, what does the practical +animal do? She wanted to marry her to somebody +she couldn't marry her to, so she resolved instantly to +marry her to somebody she could marry her to: and as +old gentlemen enter into these transactions with the practical +animal the most readily, she fixed upon an old +gentleman; an unmarried old gentleman, a rich old gentleman, +and now a captive old gentleman. The ceremony +takes place in about a week from the present time. No +doubt you will receive your invitation in a day or two."</p> + +<p>"And that cold, icy, wretched Clare has consented to +marry an old man!" groaned Richard. "I'll put a stop to +that when I go to town."</p> + +<p>Richard got up and strode about the room. Then he +bethought him it was time to go on board and make preparations.</p> + +<p>"I'm off," he said. "Adrian, you'll take her. She goes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +in the Empress, Mountfalcon's vessel. He starts us. A +little schooner-yacht—such a beauty! I'll have one like +her some day. Good-bye, darling!" he whispered to Lucy, +and his hand and eyes lingered on her, and hers on him, +seeking to make up for the priceless kiss they were debarred +from. But she quickly looked away from him as +he held her:—Adrian stood silent: his brows were up, +and his mouth dubiously contracted. He spoke at last.</p> + +<p>"Go on the water?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's only to St. Helen's. Short and sharp."</p> + +<p>"Do you grudge me the nourishment my poor system +has just received, my son?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother your system! Put on your hat, and come +along. I'll put you on board in my boat."</p> + +<p>"Richard! I have already paid the penalty of them who +are condemned to come to an island. I will go with you +to the edge of the sea, and I will meet you there when you +return, and take up the Tale of the Tritons: but, though I +forfeit the pleasure of Mrs. Richard's company, I refuse +to quit the land."</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh, Mr. Harley!" Lucy broke from her husband, +"and I will stay with you, if you please. I don't want to +go among those people, and we can see it all from the +shore. Dearest! I don't want to go. You don't mind? +Of course, I will go if you wish, but I would so much +rather stay;" and she lengthened her plea in her attitude +and look to melt the discontent she saw gathering.</p> + +<p>Adrian protested that she had much better go; that he +could amuse himself very well till their return, and so +forth; but she had schemes in her pretty head, and held +to it to be allowed to stay in spite of Lord Mountfalcon's +disappointment, cited by Richard, and at the great +risk of vexing her darling, as she saw. Richard pished, +and glanced contemptuously at Adrian. He gave way +ungraciously.</p> + +<p>"There, do as you like. Get your things ready to leave +this evening. No, I'm not angry."—Who could be? he +seemed as he looked up from her modest fondling to ask +Adrian, and seized the indemnity of a kiss on her forehead, +which, however, did not immediately disperse the +shade of annoyance he felt.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "Such a day as this,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +and a fellow refuses to come on the water! Well, come +along to the edge of the sea." Adrian's angelic quality +had quite worn off to him. He never thought of devoting +himself to make the most of the material there was: but +somebody else did, and that fair somebody succeeded wonderfully +in a few short hours. She induced Adrian to +reflect that the baronet had only to see her, and the family +muddle would be smoothed at once. He came to it by +degrees; still the gradations were rapid. Her manner he +liked; she was certainly a nice picture: best of all, she +was sensible. He forgot the farmer's niece in her, she +was so very sensible. She appeared really to understand +that it was a woman's duty to know how to cook.</p> + +<p>But the difficulty was, by what means the baronet could +be brought to consent to see her. He had not yet consented +to see his son, and Adrian, spurred by Lady +Blandish, had ventured something in coming down. He +was not inclined to venture more. The small debate in +his mind ended by his throwing the burden on time. +Time would bring the matter about. Christians as well +as Pagans are in the habit of phrasing this excuse for +folding their arms; "forgetful," says <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip,</span> +"that the devil's imps enter into no such armistice."</p> + +<p>As she loitered along the shore with her amusing companion, +Lucy had many things to think of. There was +her darling's match. The yachts were started by pistol-shot +by Lord Mountfalcon on board the Empress, and her +little heart beat after Richard's straining sails. Then +there was the strangeness of walking with a relative of +Richard's, one who had lived by his side so long. And +the thought that perhaps this night she would have to +appear before the dreaded father of her husband.</p> + +<p>"O Mr. Harley!" she said, "is it true—are we to go to-night? +And me," she faltered, "will he see me?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! that is what I wanted to talk to you about," said +Adrian. "I made some reply to our dear boy which he has +slightly misinterpreted. Our second person plural is liable +to misconstruction by an ardent mind. I said 'see you,' +and he supposed—now, Mrs. Richard, I am sure you will +understand me. Just at present perhaps it would be advisable—when +the father and son have settled their accounts, +the daughter-in-law can't be a debtor."...<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucy threw up her blue eyes. A half-cowardly delight +at the chance of a respite from the awful interview made +her quickly apprehensive.</p> + +<p>"O Mr. Harley! you think he should go alone first?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that is my notion. But the fact is, he is such an +excellent husband that I fancy it will require more than +a man's power of persuasion to get him to go."</p> + +<p>"But I will persuade him, Mr. Harley."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, if you would...."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing I would not do for his happiness," +murmured Lucy.</p> + +<p>The wise youth pressed her hand with lymphatic approbation. +They walked on till the yachts had rounded the +point.</p> + +<p>"Is it to-night, Mr. Harley?" she asked with some +trouble in her voice now that her darling was out of +sight.</p> + +<p>"I don't imagine your eloquence even will get him to +leave you to-night," Adrian replied gallantly. "Besides, I +must speak for myself. To achieve the passage to an +island is enough for one day. No necessity exists for any +hurry, except in the brain of that impetuous boy. You +must correct it, Mrs. Richard. Men are made to be managed, +and women are born managers. Now, if you were +to let him know that you don't want to go to-night, and +let him guess, after a day or two, that you would very +much rather ... you might affect a peculiar repugnance. +By taking it on yourself, you see, this wild young man +will not require such frightful efforts of persuasion. Both +his father and he are exceedingly delicate subjects, and +his father unfortunately is not in a position to be managed +directly. It's a strange office to propose to you, but it +appears to devolve upon you to manage the father through +the son. Prodigal having made his peace, you, who have +done all the work from a distance, naturally come into the +circle of the paternal smile, knowing it due to you. I +see no other way. If Richard suspects that his father +objects for the present to welcome his daughter-in-law, +hostilities will be continued, the breach will be widened, +bad will grow to worse, and I see no end to it."</p> + +<p>Adrian looked in her face, as much as to say: Now are +you capable of this piece of heroism? And it did seem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +hard to her that she should have to tell Richard she shrank +from any trial. But the proposition chimed in with her +fears and her wishes: she thought the wise youth very +wise: the poor child was not insensible to his flattery, and +the subtler flattery of making herself in some measure a +sacrifice to the home she had disturbed. She agreed to +simulate as Adrian had suggested.</p> + +<p>Victory is the commonest heritage of the hero, and +when Richard came on shore proclaiming that the Blandish +had beaten the Begum by seven minutes and three-quarters, +he was hastily kissed and congratulated by his +bride with her fingers among the leaves of Dr. Kitchener, +and anxiously questioned about wine.</p> + +<p>"Dearest! Mr. Harley wants to stay with us a little, and +he thinks we ought not to go immediately—that is, before +he has had some letters, and I feel ... I would so much +rather...."</p> + +<p>"Ah! that's it, you coward!" said Richard. "Well, then, +to-morrow. We had a splendid race. Did you see us?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I saw you and was sure my darling would +win." And again she threw on him the cold water of that +solicitude about wine. "Mr. Harley must have the best, +you know, and we never drink it, and I'm so silly, I don't +know good wine, and if you would send Tom where he can +get <i>good</i> wine. I have seen to the dinner."</p> + +<p>"So that's why you didn't come to meet me?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, darling."</p> + +<p>"Well, I do, but Mountfalcon doesn't, and Lady Judith +thinks you ought to have been there."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but my heart was with you!"</p> + +<p>Richard put his hand to feel for the little heart: her +eyelids softened, and she ran away.</p> + +<p>It is to say much of the dinner that Adrian found no +fault with it, and was in perfect good humour at the conclusion +of the service. He did not abuse the wine they +were able to procure for him, which was also much. The +coffee, too, had the honour of passing without comment. +These were sound first steps toward the conquest of an +epicure, and as yet Cupid did not grumble.</p> + +<p>After coffee they strolled out to see the sun set from +Lady Judith's grounds. The wind had dropped. The +clouds had rolled from the zenith, and ranged in amphitheatre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +with distant flushed bodies over sea and land: +Titanic crimson head and chest rising from the wave +faced Hyperion falling. There hung Briareus with deep-indented +trunk and ravined brows, stretching all his hands +up to unattainable blue summits. North-west the range +had a rich white glow, as if shining to the moon, and +westward, streams of amber, melting into upper rose, shot +out from the dipping disk.</p> + +<p>"What Sandoe calls the passion-flower of heaven," said +Richard under his breath to Adrian, who was serenely +chanting Greek hexameters, and answered, in the swing +of the cæsura, "He might as well have said cauliflower."</p> + +<p>Lady Judith, with a black lace veil tied over her head, +met them in the walk. She was tall and dark; dark-haired, +dark-eyed, sweet and persuasive in her accent and +manner. "A second edition of the Blandish," thinks +Adrian. She welcomed him as one who had claims on +her affability. She kissed Lucy protectingly, and remarking +on the wonders of the evening, appropriated her husband. +Adrian and Lucy found themselves walking behind +them.</p> + +<p>The sun was under. All the spaces of the sky were +alight, and Richard's fancy flamed.</p> + +<p>"So you're not intoxicated with your immense triumph +this morning?" said Lady Judith.</p> + +<p>"Don't laugh at me. When it's over I feel ashamed of +the trouble I've taken. Look at that glory!—I'm sure you +despise me for it."</p> + +<p>"Was I not there to applaud you? I only think such +energies should be turned into some definitely useful channel. +But you must not go into the Army."</p> + +<p>"What else can I do?"</p> + +<p>"You are fit for so much that is better."</p> + +<p>"I never can be anything like Austin."</p> + +<p>"But I think you can do more."</p> + +<p>"Well, I thank you for thinking it, Lady Judith. Something +I will do. A man must deserve to live, as you +say."</p> + +<p>"Sauces," Adrian was heard to articulate distinctly in +the rear, "Sauces are the top tree of this science. A +woman who has mastered sauces sits on the apex of +civilization."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<p>Briareus reddened duskily seaward. The West was all a +burning rose.</p> + +<p>"How can men see such sights as those, and live idle?" +Richard resumed. "I feel ashamed of asking my men to +work for me.—Or I feel so now."</p> + +<p>"Not when you're racing the Begum, I think. There's +no necessity for you to turn democrat like Austin. Do +you write now?"</p> + +<p>"No. What is writing like mine? It doesn't deceive +me. I know it's only the excuse I'm making to myself for +remaining idle. I haven't written a line since—lately."</p> + +<p>"Because you are so happy."</p> + +<p>"No, not because of that. Of course I'm very happy...." +He did not finish.</p> + +<p>Vague, shapeless ambition had replaced love in yonder +skies. No Scientific Humanist was by to study the natural +development, and guide him. This lady would hardly +be deemed a very proper guide to the undirected energies +of the youth, yet they had established relations of that +nature. She was five years older than he, and a woman, +which may explain her serene presumption.</p> + +<p>The cloud-giants had broken up: a brawny shoulder +smouldered over the sea.</p> + +<p>"We'll work together in town, at all events," said Richard. +"Why can't we go about together at night and find +out people who want help?"</p> + +<p>Lady Judith smiled, and only corrected his nonsense +by saying, "I think we mustn't be too romantic. You will +become a knight-errant, I suppose. You have the characteristics +of one."</p> + +<p>"Especially at breakfast," Adrian's unnecessarily emphatic +gastronomical lessons to the young wife here came +in.</p> + +<p>"You must be our champion," continued Lady Judith: +"the rescuer and succourer of distressed dames and damsels. +We want one badly."</p> + +<p>"You do," said Richard, earnestly: "from what I hear: +from what I know!" His thoughts flew off with him as +knight-errant hailed shrilly at exceeding critical moments +by distressed dames and damsels. Images of airy towers +hung around. His fancy performed miraculous feats. +The towers crumbled. The stars grew larger, seemed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +throb with lustre. His fancy crumbled with the towers +of the air, his heart gave a leap, he turned to Lucy.</p> + +<p>"My darling! what have you been doing?" And as if +to compensate her for his little knight-errant infidelity, he +pressed very tenderly to her.</p> + +<p>"We have been engaged in a charming conversation on +domestic cookery," interposed Adrian.</p> + +<p>"Cookery! such an evening as this?" His face was a +handsome likeness of Hippias at the presentation of bride-cake.</p> + +<p>"Dearest! you know it's very useful," Lucy mirthfully +pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I quite agree with you, child," said Lady +Judith, "and I think you have the laugh of us. I certainly +will learn to cook some day."</p> + +<p>"Woman's mission, in so many words," ejaculated +Adrian.</p> + +<p>"And pray, what is man's?"</p> + +<p>"To taste thereof, and pronounce thereupon."</p> + +<p>"Let us give it up to them," said Lady Judith to Richard. +"You and I never will make so delightful and beautifully +balanced a world of it."</p> + +<p>Richard appeared to have grown perfectly willing to +give everything up to the fair face, his bridal Hesper.</p> + +<p>Next day Lucy had to act the coward anew, and, as she +did so, her heart sank to see how painfully it affected him +that she should hesitate to go with him to his father. He +was patient, gentle; he sat down by her side to appeal to +her reason, and used all the arguments he could think of +to persuade her.</p> + +<p>"If we go together and make him see us both: if he sees +he has nothing to be ashamed of in you—rather everything +to be proud of; if you are only near him, you will not have +to speak a word, and I'm certain—as certain as that I live—that +in a week we shall be settled happily at Raynham. +I know my father so well, Lucy. Nobody knows +him but I."</p> + +<p>Lucy asked whether Mr. Harley did not.</p> + +<p>"Adrian? Not a bit. Adrian only knows a part of +people, Lucy; and not the best part."</p> + +<p>Lucy was disposed to think more highly of the object of +her conquest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it he that has been frightening you, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Richard; oh, dear no;" she cried, and looked +at him more tenderly because she was not quite truthful.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't know my father at all," said Richard. But +Lucy had another opinion of the wise youth, and secretly +maintained it. She could not be won to imagine the baronet +a man of human mould, generous, forgiving, full of +passionate love at heart, as Richard tried to picture him, +and thought him, now that he beheld him again through +Adrian's embassy. To her he was that awful figure, +shrouded by the midnight. "Why are you so harsh?" she +had heard Richard cry more than once. She was sure +that Adrian must be right.</p> + +<p>"Well, I tell you I won't go without you," said Richard, +and Lucy begged for a little more time.</p> + +<p>Cupid now began to grumble, and with cause. Adrian +positively refused to go on the water unless that element +were smooth as a plate. The South-west still joked boisterously +at any comparison of the sort; the days were +magnificent; Richard had yachting engagements; and +Lucy always petitioned to stay to keep Adrian company, +conceiving it her duty as hostess. Arguing with Adrian +was an absurd idea. If Richard hinted at his retaining +Lucy, the wise youth would remark: "It's a wholesome +interlude to your extremely Cupidinous behaviour, my +dear boy."</p> + +<p>Richard asked his wife what they could possibly find to +talk about.</p> + +<p>"All manner of things," said Lucy; "not only cookery. +He is so amusing, though he does make fun of <span class="smcap">The +Pilgrim's Scrip</span>, and I think he ought not. And then, +do you know, darling—you won't think me vain?—I think +he is beginning to like me a little."</p> + +<p>Richard laughed at the humble mind of his Beauty.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't everybody like you, admire you? Doesn't +Lord Mountfalcon, and Mr. Morton, and Lady Judith?"</p> + +<p>"But he is one of your family, Richard."</p> + +<p>"And they all will, if she isn't a coward."</p> + +<p>"Ah, no!" she sighs, and is chidden.</p> + +<p>The conquest of an epicure, or any young wife's conquest +beyond her husband, however loyally devised for +their mutual happiness, may be costly to her. Richard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +in his hours of excitement was thrown very much with +Lady Judith. He consulted her regarding what he termed +Lucy's cowardice. Lady Judith said: "I think she's +wrong, but you must learn to humour little women."</p> + +<p>"Then would you advise me to go up alone?" he asked, +with a cloudy forehead.</p> + +<p>"What else can you do? Be reconciled yourself as +quickly as you can. You can't drag her like a captive, +you know?"</p> + +<p>It is not pleasant for a young husband, fancying his +bride the peerless flower of Creation, to learn that he +must humour a little woman in her. It was revolting +to Richard.</p> + +<p>"What I fear," he said, "is, that my father will make it +smooth with me, and not acknowledge her: so that whenever +I go to him, I shall have to leave her, and tit for tat—an +abominable existence, like a ball on a billiard-table. +I won't bear that ignominy. And this I know, I know! +she might prevent it at once, if she would only be brave, +and face it. You, you, Lady Judith, you wouldn't be +a coward?"</p> + +<p>"Where my old lord tells me to go, I go," the lady coldly +replied. "There's not much merit in that. Pray, don't +cite me. Women are born cowards, you know."</p> + +<p>"But I love the women who are not cowards."</p> + +<p>"The little thing—your wife has not refused to go?"</p> + +<p>"No—but tears! Who can stand tears?"</p> + +<p>Lucy had come to drop them. Unaccustomed to have +his will thwarted, and urgent where he saw the thing to +do so clearly, the young husband had spoken strong +words: and she, who knew that she would have given her +life by inches for him; who knew that she was playing a +part for his happiness, and hiding for his sake the nature +that was worthy his esteem; the poor little martyr had +been weak a moment.</p> + +<p>She had Adrian's support. The wise youth was very +comfortable. He liked the air of the Island, and he liked +being petted. "A nice little woman! a very nice little +woman!" Tom Bakewell heard him murmur to himself +according to a habit he had; and his air of rather succulent +patronage as he walked or sat beside the innocent +Beauty, with his head thrown back and a smile that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +seemed always to be in secret communion with his marked +abdominal prominence, showed that she was gaining part +of what she played for. Wise youths who buy their loves, +are not unwilling, when opportunity offers, to try and +obtain the commodity for nothing. Examinations of her +hand, as for some occult purpose, and unctuous pattings +of the same, were not infrequent. Adrian waxed now +and then Anacreontic in his compliments. Lucy would +say: "That's worse than Lord Mountfalcon."</p> + +<p>"Better English than the noble lord deigns to employ—allow +that?" quoth Adrian.</p> + +<p>"He is very kind," said Lucy.</p> + +<p>"To all save to our noble vernacular," added Adrian. +"He seems to scent a rival to his dignity there."</p> + +<p>It may be that Adrian scented a rival to his lymphatic +emotions.</p> + +<p>"We are at our ease here in excellent society," he wrote +to Lady Blandish. "I am bound to confess that the Huron +has a happy fortune, or a superlative instinct. Blindfold +he has seized upon a suitable mate. She can look at a +lord, and cook for an epicure. Besides Dr. Kitchener, +she reads and comments on <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>. The +'Love' chapter, of course, takes her fancy. That picture +of Woman, '<i>Drawn by Reverence and coloured by Love</i>,' +she thinks beautiful, and repeats it, tossing up pretty +eyes. Also the lover's petition: '<i>Give me purity to be +worthy the good in her, and grant her patience to reach +the good in me.</i>' 'Tis quite taking to hear her lisp it. Be +sure that I am repeating the petition! I make her read +me her choice passages. She has not a bad voice.</p> + +<p>"The Lady Judith I spoke of is Austin's Miss Menteith, +married to the incapable old Lord Felle, or Fellow, as the +wits here call him. Lord Mountfalcon is his cousin, and +her—what? She has been trying to find out, but they have +both got over their perplexity, and act respectively the bad +man reproved and the chaste counsellor; a position in +which our young couple found them, and haply diverted +its perils. They had quite taken them in hand. Lady +Judith undertakes to cure the fair Papist of a pretty, +modest trick of frowning and blushing when addressed, +and his lordship directs the exuberant energies of the +original man. 'Tis thus we fulfil our destinies, and are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +content. Sometimes they change pupils; my lord educates +the little dame, and my lady the hope of Raynham. Joy +and blessings unto all! as the German poet sings. Lady +Judith accepted the hand of her decrepit lord that she +might be of potent service to her fellow-creatures. Austin, +you know, had great hopes of her.</p> + +<p>"I have for the first time in my career a field of lords +to study. I think it is not without meaning that I am +introduced to it by a yeoman's niece. The language of +the two social extremes is similar. I find it to consist +in an instinctively lavish use of vowels and adjectives. +My lord and Farmer Blaize speak the same tongue, only +my lord's has lost its backbone, and is limp, though fluent. +Their pursuits are identical; but that one has money, or, +as the Pilgrim terms it, <i>vantage</i>, and the other has not. +Their ideas seem to have a special relationship in the +peculiarity of stopping where they have begun. Young +Tom Blaize with <i>vantage</i> would be Lord Mountfalcon. +Even in the character of their parasites I see a resemblance, +though I am bound to confess that the Hon. Peter +Brayder, who is my lord's parasite, is by no means noxious.</p> + +<p>"This sounds dreadfully democratic. Pray, don't be +alarmed. The discovery of the affinity between the two +extremes of the Royal British Oak has made me thrice +conservative. I see now that the national love of a lord +is less subservience than a form of self-love; putting a gold-lace +hat on one's image, as it were, to bow to it. I see, +too, the admirable wisdom of our system:—could there be +a finer balance of power than in a community where men +intellectually nil, have lawful vantage and a gold-lace hat +on? How soothing it is to intellect—that noble rebel, as +the <span class="smcap">Pilgrim</span> has it—to stand, and bow, and know itself +superior! This exquisite compensation maintains the +balance: whereas that period anticipated by the <span class="smcap">Pilgrim</span>, +when science shall have produced an <i>intellectual aristocracy</i>, +is indeed horrible to contemplate. For what despotism +is so black as one the mind cannot challenge? 'Twill +be an iron Age. Wherefore, madam, I cry, and shall +continue to cry, '<i>Vive</i> Lord Mountfalcon! long may he +sip his Burgundy! long may the bacon-fed carry him on +their shoulders!'</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morton (who does me the honour to call me Young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +Mephisto, and Socrates missed) leaves to-morrow to get +Master Ralph out of a scrape. Our Richard has just been +elected member of a Club for the promotion of nausea. Is +he happy? you ask. As much so as one who has had the +misfortune to obtain what he wanted can be. Speed is +his passion. He races from point to point. In emulation +of Leander and Don Juan, he swam, I hear, to the opposite +shores the other day, or some world-shaking feat +of the sort: himself the Hero whom he went to meet: or, +as they who pun say, his Hero was a Bet. A pretty little +domestic episode occurred this morning. He finds her +abstracted in the fire of his caresses: she turns shy and +seeks solitude: green jealousy takes hold of him: he lies +in wait, and discovers her with his new rival—a veteran +edition of the culinary Doctor! Blind to the Doctor's +great national services, deaf to her wild music, he grasps +the intruder, dismembers him, and performs upon him the +treatment he has recommended for dressed cucumber. +Tears and shrieks accompany the descent of the gastronome. +Down she rushes to secure the cherished fragments: +he follows: they find him, true to his character, alighted +and straggling over a bed of blooming flowers. Yet ere +a fairer flower can gather him, a heel black as Pluto +stamps him into earth, flowers and all:—happy burial! +Pathetic tribute to his merit is watering his grave, when +by saunters my Lord Mountfalcon. 'What's the mattah?' +says his lordship, soothing his moustache. They break +apart, and 'tis left to me to explain from the window. My +lord looks shocked, Richard is angry with her for having +to be ashamed of himself, Beauty dries her eyes, and after +a pause of general foolishness, the business of life is resumed. +I may add that the Doctor has just been dug up, +and we are busy, in the enemy's absence, renewing old +Æson with enchanted threads. By the way, a Papist +priest has blest them."</p> + +<p>A month had passed when Adrian wrote this letter. He +was very comfortable; so of course he thought Time was +doing his duty. Not a word did he say of Richard's return, +and for some reason or other neither Richard nor +Lucy spoke of it now.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish wrote back: "His father thinks he has +refused to come to him. By your utter silence on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +subject, I fear that it must be so. Make him come. Bring +him by force. <i>Insist</i> on his coming. Is he mad? He +must come <i>at once</i>."</p> + +<p>To this Adrian replied, after a contemplative comfortable +lapse of a day or two, which might be laid to his +efforts to adopt the lady's advice, "The point is that the +half man declines to come without the whole man. The +terrible question of sex is our obstruction."</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish was in despair. She had no positive +assurance that the baronet would see his son; the mask +put them all in the dark; but she thought she saw in Sir +Austin irritation that the offender, at least when the +opening to come and make his peace seemed to be before +him, should let days and weeks go by. She saw through +the mask sufficiently not to have any hope of his consenting +to receive the couple at present; she was sure that +his equanimity was fictitious; but she pierced no farther, +or she might have started and asked herself, Is this the +heart of a woman?</p> + +<p>The lady at last wrote to Richard. She said: "Come +instantly, and come alone." Then Richard, against his +judgment, gave way. "My father is not the man I thought +him!" he exclaimed sadly, and Lucy felt his eyes saying +to her: "And you, too, are not the woman I thought you." +Nothing could the poor little heart reply but strain to his +bosom and sleeplessly pray in his arms all the night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>CLARE'S MARRIAGE</h3> + + +<p>Three weeks after Richard arrived in town, his cousin +Clare was married, under the blessings of her energetic +mother, and with the approbation of her kinsfolk, to the +husband that had been expeditiously chosen for her. The +gentleman, though something more than twice the age of +his bride, had no idea of approaching senility for many +long connubial years to come. Backed by his tailor and +his hairdresser, he presented no such bad figure at the +altar, and none would have thought that he was an ancient<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +admirer of his bride's mama, as certainly none knew he +had lately proposed for Mrs. Doria before there was any +question of her daughter. These things were secrets; and +the elastic and happy appearance of Mr. John Todhunter +did not betray them at the altar. Perhaps he would rather +have married the mother. He was a man of property, +well born, tolerably well educated, and had, when Mrs. +Doria rejected him for the first time, the reputation of +being a fool—which a wealthy man may have in his +youth; but as he lived on, and did not squander his money—amassed +it, on the contrary, and did not seek to go into +Parliament, and did other negative wise things, the +world's opinion, as usual, veered completely round, and +John Todhunter was esteemed a shrewd, sensible man—only +not brilliant; that he was brilliant could not be said +of him. In fact, the man could hardly talk, and it was +a fortunate provision that no impromptu deliveries were +required of him in the marriage-service.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria had her own reasons for being in a hurry. +She had discovered something of the strange impassive +nature of her child; not from any confession of Clare's, +but from signs a mother can read when her eyes are not +resolutely shut. She saw with alarm and anguish that +Clare had fallen into the pit she had been digging for +her so laboriously. In vain she entreated the baronet to +break the disgraceful, and, as she said, illegal alliance +his son had contracted. Sir Austin would not even stop +the little pension to poor Berry. "At least you will do +that, Austin," she begged pathetically. "You will show +your sense of that horrid woman's conduct?" He refused +to offer up any victim to console her. Then Mrs. Doria +told him her thoughts,—and when an outraged energetic +lady is finally brought to exhibit these painfully hoarded +treasures, she does not use half words as a medium. His +System, and his conduct generally were denounced to +him, without analysis. She let him understand that the +world laughed at him; and he heard this from her at a +time when his mask was still soft and liable to be acted +on by his nerves. "You are weak, Austin! weak, I tell you!" +she said, and, like all angry and self-interested people, +prophecy came easy to her. In her heart she accused him +of her own fault, in imputing to him the wreck of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +project. The baronet allowed her to revel in the proclamation +of a dire future, and quietly counselled her to keep +apart from him, which his sister assured him she would do.</p> + +<p>But to be passive in calamity is the province of no +woman. Mark the race at any hour. "What revolution +and hubbub does not that little instrument, the needle, +avert from us!" says <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>. Alas, that in +calamity women cannot stitch! Now that she saw Clare +wanted other than iron, it struck her she must have a +husband, and be made secure as a woman and a wife. +This seemed the thing to do: and, as she had forced the +iron down Clare's throat, so she forced the husband, and +Clare gulped at the latter as she had at the former. On +the very day that Mrs. Doria had this new track shaped +out before her, John Todhunter called at the Foreys'. +"Old John!" sang out Mrs. Doria, "show him up to me. +I want to see him particularly." He sat with her alone. +He was a man multitudes of women would have married—whom +will they not?—and who would have married any +presentable woman: but women do want asking, and John +never had the word. The rape of such men is left to the +practical animal. So John sat alone with his old flame. +He had become resigned to her perpetual lamentation and +living Suttee for his defunct rival. But, ha! what meant +those soft glances now—addressed to him? His tailor +and his hairdresser gave youth to John, but they had not +the art to bestow upon him distinction, and an undistinguished +man what woman looks at? John was an indistinguishable +man. For that reason he was dry wood to +a soft glance.</p> + +<p>And now she said: "It is time you should marry; and +you are the man to be the guide and helper of a young +woman, John. You are well preserved—younger than +most of the young men of our day. You are eminently +domestic, a good son, and will be a good husband and +good father. Some one you must marry.—What do you +think of Clare for a wife for you?"</p> + +<p>At first John Todhunter thought it would be very much +like his marrying a baby. However, he listened to it, and +that was enough for Mrs. Doria.</p> + +<p>She went down to John's mother, and consulted with +her on the propriety of the scheme of wedding her daughter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +to John in accordance with his proposition. Mrs. +Todhunter's jealousy of any disturbing force in the influence +she held over her son Mrs. Doria knew to be one +of the causes of John's remaining constant to the impression +she had aforetime produced on him. She spoke +so kindly of John, and laid so much stress on the ingrained +obedience and passive disposition of her daughter, +that Mrs. Todhunter was led to admit she did think it +almost time John should be seeking a mate, and that he—all +things considered—would hardly find a fitter one. And +this, John Todhunter—old John no more—heard to his +amazement when, a day or two subsequently, he instanced +the probable disapproval of his mother.</p> + +<p>The match was arranged. Mrs. Doria did the wooing. +It consisted in telling Clare that she had come to years +when marriage was desirable, and that she had fallen into +habits of moping which might have the worse effect on +her future life, as it had on her present health and appearance, +and which a husband would cure. Richard was +told by Mrs. Doria that Clare had instantaneously consented +to accept Mr. John Todhunter as lord of her days, +and with more than obedience—with alacrity. At all +events, when Richard spoke to Clare, the strange passive +creature did not admit constraint on her inclinations. +Mrs. Doria allowed Richard to speak to her. She laughed +at his futile endeavours to undo her work, and the boyish +sentiments he uttered on the subject. "Let us see, child," +she said, "let us see which turns out the best; a marriage +of passion, or a marriage of common sense."</p> + +<p>Heroic efforts were not wanting to arrest the union. +Richard made repeated journeys to Hounslow, where +Ralph was quartered, and if Ralph could have been persuaded +to carry off a young lady who did not love him, +from the bridegroom her mother averred she did love, +Mrs. Doria might have been defeated. But Ralph in his +cavalry quarters was cooler than Ralph in the Bursley +meadows. "Women are oddities, Dick," he remarked, +running a finger right and left along his upper lip. "Best +leave them to their own freaks. She's a dear girl, though +she doesn't talk: I like her for that. If she cared for me +I'd go the race. She never did. It's no use asking a girl +twice. <i>She</i> knows whether she cares a fig for a fellow."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> + +<p>The hero quitted him with some contempt. As Ralph +Morton was a young man, and he had determined that +John Todhunter was an old man, he sought another +private interview with Clare, and getting her alone, said: +"Clare, I've come to you for the last time. Will you marry +Ralph Morton?"</p> + +<p>To which Clare replied, "I cannot marry two husbands, +Richard."</p> + +<p>"Will you refuse to marry this old man?"</p> + +<p>"I must do as mama wishes."</p> + +<p>"Then you're going to marry an old man—a man you +don't love, and can't love! Oh, good God! do you know +what you're doing?" He flung about in a fury. "Do you +know what it is? Clare!" he caught her two hands +violently, "have you any idea of the horror you're going +to commit?"</p> + +<p>She shrank a little at his vehemence, but neither blushed +nor stammered: answering: "I see nothing wrong in doing +what mama thinks right, Richard."</p> + +<p>"Your mother! I tell you it's an infamy, Clare! It's a +miserable sin! I tell you, if I had done such a thing I +would not live an hour after it. And coldly to prepare for +it! to be busy about your dresses! They told me when I +came in that you were with the milliner. To be smiling +over the horrible outrage! decorating yourself!"...</p> + +<p>"Dear Richard," said Clare, "you will make me very +unhappy."</p> + +<p>"That one of my blood should be so debased!" he cried, +brushing angrily at his face. "Unhappy! I beg you to +feel for yourself, Clare. But I suppose," and he said it +scornfully, "girls don't feel this sort of shame."</p> + +<p>She grew a trifle paler.</p> + +<p>"Next to mama, I would wish to please you, dear +Richard."</p> + +<p>"Have you no will of your own?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She looked at him softly; a look he interpreted for the +meekness he detested in her.</p> + +<p>"No, I believe you have none!" he added. "And what +can I do? I can't step forward and stop this accursed +marriage. If you would but say a word I would save you; +but you tie my hands. And they expect me to stand by +and see it done!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Will you not be there, Richard?" said Clare, following +the question with her soft eyes. It was the same voice +that had so thrilled him on his marriage morn.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling Clare!" he cried in the kindest way he +had ever used to her, "if you knew how I feel this!" and +now as he wept she wept, and came insensibly into his +arms. "My darling Clare!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>She said nothing, but seemed to shudder, weeping.</p> + +<p>"You <i>will</i> do it, Clare? You will be sacrificed? So +lovely as you are, too!... Clare! you cannot be quite +blind. If I dared speak to you, and tell you all.... +Look up. Can you still consent?"</p> + +<p>"I must not disobey mama," Clare murmured, without +looking up from the nest her cheek had made on his +bosom.</p> + +<p>"Then kiss me for the last time," said Richard. "I'll +never kiss you after it, Clare."</p> + +<p>He bent his head to meet her mouth, and she threw her +arms wildly round him, and kissed him convulsively, and +clung to his lips, shutting her eyes, her face suffused with +a burning red.</p> + +<p>Then he left her, unaware of the meaning of those passionate +kisses.</p> + +<p>Argument with Mrs. Doria was like firing paper-pellets +against a stone wall. To her indeed the young married +hero spoke almost indecorously, and that which his delicacy +withheld him from speaking to Clare. He could provoke +nothing more responsive from the practical animal +than "Pooh-pooh! Tush, tush! and Fiddlededee!"</p> + +<p>"Really," Mrs. Doria said to her intimates, "that boy's +education acts like a disease on him. He cannot regard +anything sensibly. He is for ever in some mad excess +of his fancy, and what he will come to at last heaven +only knows! I sincerely pray that Austin will be able +to bear it."</p> + +<p>Threats of prayer, however, that harp upon their sincerity, +are not very well worth having. Mrs. Doria had +embarked in a practical controversy, as it were, with her +brother. Doubtless she did trust he would be able to bear +his sorrows to come, but one who has uttered prophecy can +barely help hoping to see it fulfilled: she had prophesied +much grief to the baronet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> + +<p>Poor John Todhunter, who would rather have married +the mother, and had none of your heroic notions about +the sacred necessity for love in marriage, moved as one +guiltless of offence, and deserving his happiness. Mrs. +Doria shielded him from the hero. To see him smile at +Clare's obedient figure, and try not to look paternal, was +touching.</p> + +<p>Meantime Clare's marriage served one purpose. It completely +occupied Richard's mind, and prevented him from +chafing at the vexation of not finding his father ready to +meet him when he came to town. A letter had awaited +Adrian at the hotel, which said, "Detain him till you hear +further from me. Take him about with you into every +form of society." No more than that. Adrian had to extemporize, +that the baronet had gone down to Wales on +pressing business, and would be back in a week or so. +For ulterior inventions and devices wherewith to keep the +young gentleman in town, he applied to Mrs. Doria. +"Leave him to me," said Mrs. Doria, "I'll manage him." +And she did.</p> + +<p>"Who can say," asks <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span>, "when he is +not walking a puppet to some woman?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria would hear no good of Lucy. "I believe," +she observed, as Adrian ventured a shrugging protest in +her behalf,—"it is my firm opinion, that a scullery-maid +would turn any of you men round her little finger—only +give her time and opportunity." By dwelling on the arts +of women, she reconciled it to her conscience to do her +best to divide the young husband from his wife till it +pleased his father they should live their unhallowed union +again. Without compunction, or a sense of incongruity, +she abused her brother and assisted the fulfilment of his +behests.</p> + +<p>So the puppets were marshalled by Mrs. Doria, happy, +or sad, or indifferent. Quite against his set resolve and +the tide of his feelings, Richard found himself standing +behind Clare in the church—the very edifice that had witnessed +his own marriage, and heard, "I, Clare Doria, +take thee John Pemberton," clearly pronounced. He +stood, with black brows dissecting the arts of the tailor +and hairdresser on unconscious John. The back, and +much of the middle, of Mr. Todhunter's head was bald;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +the back shone like an egg-shell, but across the middle +the artist had drawn two long dabs of hair from the +sides, and plastered them cunningly, so that all save wilful +eyes would have acknowledged the head to be covered. +The man's only pretension was to a respectable juvenility. +He had a good chest, stout limbs, a face inclined to be +jolly. Mrs. Doria had no cause to be put out of countenance +at all by the exterior of her son-in-law: nor was she. +Her splendid hair and gratified smile made a light in the +church. Playing puppets must be an immense pleasure to +the practical animal. The Forey bridesmaids, five in number, +and one Miss Doria, their cousin, stood as girls do +stand at these sacrifices, whether happy, sad, or indifferent; +a smile on their lips and tears in attendance. Old +Mrs. Todhunter, an exceedingly small ancient woman, was +also there. "I can't have my boy John married without +seeing it done," she said, and throughout the ceremony she +was muttering audible encomiums on her John's manly +behaviour.</p> + +<p>The ring was affixed to Clare's finger; there was no +ring lost in this common-sense marriage. The instant the +clergyman bade him employ it, John drew the ring out, +and dropped it on the finger of the cold passive hand in +a business-like way, as one who had studied the matter. +Mrs. Doria glanced aside at Richard. Richard observed +Clare spread out her fingers that the operation might be +the more easily effected.</p> + +<p>He did duty in the vestry a few minutes, and then said +to his aunt:</p> + +<p>"Now I'll go."</p> + +<p>"You'll come to the breakfast, child? The Foreys"——</p> + +<p>He cut her short. "I've stood for the family, and I'll do +no more. I won't pretend to eat and make merry over it."</p> + +<p>"Richard!"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye."</p> + +<p>She had attained her object and she wisely gave way.</p> + +<p>"Well. Go and kiss Clare, and shake his hand. Pray, +pray be civil."</p> + +<p>She turned to Adrian, and said: "He is going. You +must go with him, and find some means of keeping +him, or he'll be running off to that woman. Now, no +words—go!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> + +<p>Richard bade Clare farewell. She put up her mouth to +him humbly, but he kissed her on the forehead.</p> + +<p>"Do not cease to love me," she said in a quavering +whisper in his ear.</p> + +<p>Mr. Todhunter stood beaming and endangering the art +of the hairdresser with his pocket-handkerchief. Now he +positively was married, he thought he would rather have +the daughter than the mother, which is a reverse of the +order of human thankfulness at a gift of the Gods.</p> + +<p>"Richard, my boy!" he said heartily, "congratulate me."</p> + +<p>"I should be happy to, if I could," sedately replied the +hero, to the consternation of those around. Nodding to +the bridesmaids and bowing to the old lady, he passed out.</p> + +<p>Adrian, who had been behind him, deputed to watch for +a possible unpleasantness, just hinted to John: "You +know, poor fellow, he has got into a mess with his +marriage."</p> + +<p>"Oh! ah! yes!" kindly said John, "poor fellow!"</p> + +<p>All the puppets then rolled off to the breakfast.</p> + +<p>Adrian hurried after Richard in an extremely discontented +state of mind. Not to be at the breakfast and see +the best of the fun, disgusted him. However, he remembered +that he was a philosopher, and the strong disgust +he felt was only expressed in concentrated cynicism on +every earthly matter engendered by the conversation. +They walked side by side into Kensington Gardens. The +hero was mouthing away to himself, talking by fits.</p> + +<p>Presently he faced Adrian, crying: "And I might have +stopped it! I see it now! I might have stopped it by going +straight to him, and asking him if he dared marry a girl +who did not love him. And I never thought of it. Good +heavens! I feel this miserable affair on my conscience."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" groaned Adrian. "An unpleasant cargo for the +conscience, that! I would rather carry anything on mine +than a married couple. Do you purpose going to him +now?"</p> + +<p>The hero soliloquized: "He's not a bad sort of +man."...</p> + +<p>"Well, he's not a Cavalier," said Adrian, "and that's +why you wonder your aunt selected him, no doubt? He's +decidedly of the Roundhead type, with the Puritan extracted, +or inoffensive, if latent."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's the double infamy!" cried Richard, "that a +man you can't call bad, should do this damned thing!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's hard we can't find a villain."</p> + +<p>"He would have listened to me, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Go to him now, Richard, my son. Go to him now. It's +not yet too late. Who knows? If he really has a noble +elevated superior mind—though not a Cavalier in person, +he may be one at heart—he might, to please you, and since +you put such stress upon it, abstain ... perhaps with +some loss of dignity, but never mind. And the request +might be singular, or seem so, but everything has happened +before in this world, you know, my dear boy. And +what an infinite consolation it is for the eccentric, that +reflection!"</p> + +<p>The hero was impervious to the wise youth. He stared +at him as if he were but a speck in the universe he +visioned.</p> + +<p>It was provoking that Richard should be Adrian's best +subject for cynical pastime, in the extraordinary heterodoxies +he started, and his worst in the way he took it; +and the wise youth, against his will, had to feel as conscious +of the young man's imaginative mental armour, as +he was of his muscular physical.</p> + +<p>"The same sort of day!" mused Richard, looking up. +"I suppose my father's right. We make our own fates, +and nature has nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>Adrian yawned.</p> + +<p>"Some difference in the trees, though," Richard continued +abstractedly.</p> + +<p>"Growing bald at the top," said Adrian.</p> + +<p>"Will you believe that my aunt Helen compared the +conduct of that wretched slave Clare to Lucy's, who, she +had the cruel insolence to say, entangled me into marriage?" +the hero broke out loudly and rapidly. "You +know—I told you, Adrian—how I had to threaten and +insist, and how she pleaded, and implored me to wait."</p> + +<p>"Ah! hum!" mumbled Adrian.</p> + +<p>"You remember my telling you?" Richard was earnest +to hear her exonerated.</p> + +<p>"Pleaded and implored, my dear boy? Oh, no doubt she +did. Where's the lass that doesn't."</p> + +<p>"Call my wife by another name, if you please."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The generic title can't be cancelled because of your +having married one of the body, my son."</p> + +<p>"She did all she could to persuade me to wait!" emphasized +Richard.</p> + +<p>Adrian shook his head with a deplorable smile.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, my good Ricky; not all! not all!"</p> + +<p>Richard bellowed: "What more could she have done?"</p> + +<p>"She could have shaved her head, for instance."</p> + +<p>This happy shaft did stick. With a furious exclamation +Richard shot in front, Adrian following him; and +asking him (merely to have his assumption verified), +whether he did not think she might have shaved her head? +and, presuming her to have done so, whether, in candour, +he did not think he would have waited—at least till she +looked less of a rank lunatic?</p> + +<p>After a minute or so, the wise youth was but a fly buzzing +about Richard's head. Three weeks of separation from +Lucy, and an excitement deceased, caused him to have soft +yearnings for the dear lovely home-face. He told Adrian +it was his intention to go down that night. Adrian immediately +became serious. He was at a loss what to invent +to detain him, beyond the stale fiction that his father was +coming to-morrow. He rendered homage to the genius of +woman in these straits. "My aunt," he thought, "would +have the lie ready; and not only that, but she would take +care it did its work."</p> + +<p>At this juncture the voice of a cavalier in the Row +hailed them, proving to be the Honourable Peter Brayder, +Lord Mountfalcon's parasite. He greeted them very +cordially; and Richard, remembering some fun they had +in the Island, asked him to dine with them; postponing +his return till the next day. Lucy was his. It was even +sweet to dally with the delight of seeing her.</p> + +<p>The Hon. Peter was one who did honour to the body he +belonged to. Though not so tall as a West of London footman, +he was as shapely; and he had a power of making his +voice insinuating, or arrogant, as it suited the exigencies +of his profession. He had not a rap of money in the +world; yet he rode a horse, lived high, expended largely. +The world said that the Hon. Peter was salaried by his +Lordship, and that, in common with that of Parasite, he +exercised the ancient companion profession. This the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +world said, and still smiled at the Hon. Peter; for he was +an engaging fellow, and where he went not Lord Mountfalcon +would not go.</p> + +<p>They had a quiet little hotel dinner, ordered by Adrian, +and made a square at the table, Ripton Thompson being +the fourth. Richard sent down to his office to fetch him, +and the two friends shook hands for the first time since +the great deed had been executed. Deep was the Old Dog's +delight to hear the praises of his Beauty sounded by such +aristocratic lips as the Hon. Peter Brayder's. All through +the dinner he was throwing out hints and small queries +to get a fuller account of her; and when the claret had +circulated, he spoke a word or two himself, and heard the +Hon. Peter eulogize his taste, and wish him a bride as +beautiful; at which Ripton blushed, and said, he had no +hope of that, and the Hon. Peter assured him marriage +did not break the mould.</p> + +<p>After the wine this gentleman took his cigar on the +balcony, and found occasion to get some conversation with +Adrian alone.</p> + +<p>"Our young friend here—made it all right with the +governor?" he asked carelessly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" said Adrian. But it struck him that Brayder +might be of assistance in showing Richard a little of the +"society in every form," required by his chief's prescript. +"That is," he continued, "we are not yet permitted an interview +with the august author of our being, and I have +rather a difficult post. 'Tis mine both to keep him here, +and also to find him the opportunity to measure himself +with his fellow-man. In other words, his father wants +him to see something of life before he enters upon housekeeping. +Now I am proud to confess that I'm hardly +equal to the task. The demi, or damnedmonde—if it's +that he wants him to observe—is one that I have not got +the walk to."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" laughed Brayder. "You do the keeping, I +offer to parade the demi. I must say, though, it's a queer +notion of the old gentleman."</p> + +<p>"It's the continuation of a philosophic plan," said +Adrian.</p> + +<p>Brayder followed the curvings of the whiff of his cigar +with his eyes, and ejaculated, "Infernally philosophic!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Has Lord Mountfalcon left the island?" Adrian inquired.</p> + +<p>"Mount? to tell the truth I don't know where he is. +Chasing some light craft, I suppose. That's poor Mount's +weakness. It's his ruin, poor fellow! He's so confoundedly +in earnest at the game."</p> + +<p>"He ought to know it by this time, if fame speaks true," +remarked Adrian.</p> + +<p>"He's a baby about women, and always will be," said +Brayder. "He's been once or twice wanting to marry +them. Now there's a woman—you've heard of Mrs. +Mount? All the world knows her.—If that woman hadn't +scandalized."—The young man joined them, and checked +the communication. Brayder winked to Adrian, and pitifully +indicated the presence of an innocent.</p> + +<p>"A married man, you know," said Adrian.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!—we won't shock him," Brayder observed. +He appeared to study the young man while they talked.</p> + +<p>Next morning Richard was surprised by a visit from his +aunt. Mrs. Doria took a seat by his side, and spoke as +follows:</p> + +<p>"My dear nephew. Now you know I have always loved +you, and thought of your welfare as if you had been my +own child. More than that, I fear. Well, now, you are +thinking of returning to—to that place—are you not? +Yes. It is as I thought. Very well now, let me speak to +you. You are in a much more dangerous position than +you imagine. I don't deny your father's affection for you. +It would be absurd to deny it. But you are of an age +now to appreciate his character. Whatever you may do +he will always give you money. That you are sure of; +that you know. Very well. But you are one to want +more than money: you want his love. Richard, I am +convinced you will never be happy, whatever base pleasures +you may be led into, if he should withhold his love +from you. Now, child, you know you have grievously +offended him. I wish not to animadvert on your conduct.—You +fancied yourself in love, and so on, and you were +rash. The less said of it the better now. But you must +now—it is your duty now to do something—to do everything +that lies in your power to show him you repent. No +interruptions! Listen to me. You must consider him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> +Austin is not like other men. Austin requires the most +delicate management. You must—whether you feel it or +no—present an appearance of contrition. I counsel it for +the good of all. He is just like a woman, and where his +feelings are offended he wants utter subservience. He has +you in town, and he does not see you:—now you know that +he and I are not in communication: we have likewise our +differences:—Well, he has you in town, and he holds aloof:—he +is trying you, my dear Richard. No: he is not at +Raynham: I do not know where he is. He is trying you, +child, and you must be patient. You must convince him +that you do not care utterly for your own gratification. +If this person—I wish to speak of her with respect, for +your sake—well, if she loves you <i>at all</i>—if, I say, she loves +you <i>one atom</i>, she will repeat my solicitations for you to +stay and patiently wait here till he consents to see you. I +tell you candidly, it's your only chance of ever getting +him to receive <i>her</i>. That you should know. And now, +Richard, I may add that there is something else you should +know. You should know that it depends entirely upon +your conduct now, whether you are to see your father's +heart for ever divided from you, and a new family at +Raynham. You do not understand? I will explain. +Brothers and sisters are excellent things for young people, +but a new brood of them can hardly be acceptable to +a young man. In fact, they are, and must be, aliens. I +only tell you what I have heard on good authority. Don't +you understand now? Foolish boy! if you do not humour +him, he will marry her. Oh! I am sure of it. I know it. +And this you will drive him to. I do not warn you on the +score of your prospects, but of your feelings. I should +regard such a contingency, Richard, as a final division between +you. Think of the scandal! but alas, that is the +least of the evils."</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Doria's object to produce an impression, +and avoid an argument. She therefore left him as soon +as she had, as she supposed, made her mark on the young +man. Richard was very silent during the speech, and +save for an exclamation or so, had listened attentively. +He pondered on what his aunt said. He loved Lady +Blandish, and yet he did not wish to see her Lady Feverel. +Mrs. Doria laid painful stress on the scandal, and though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> +he did not give his mind to this, he thought of it. He +thought of his mother. Where was she? But most his +thoughts recurred to his father, and something akin to +jealousy slowly awakened his heart to him. He had +given him up, and had not latterly felt extremely filial; +but he could not bear the idea of a division in the love +of which he had ever been the idol and sole object. And +such a man, too! so good! so generous! If it was jealousy +that roused the young man's heart to his father, the +better part of love was also revived in it. He thought of +old days: of his father's forbearance, his own wilfulness. +He looked on himself, and what he had done, with the +eyes of such a man. He determined to do all he could +to regain his favour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria learnt from Adrian in the evening that her +nephew intended waiting in town another week.</p> + +<p>"That will do," smiled Mrs. Doria. "He will be more +patient at the end of a week."</p> + +<p>"Oh! does patience beget patience?" said Adrian. "I +was not aware it was a propagating virtue. I surrender +him to you. I shan't be able to hold him in after one +week more. I assure you, my dear aunt, he's already"....</p> + +<p>"Thank you, no explanation," Mrs. Doria begged.</p> + +<p>When Richard saw her next, he was informed that she +had received a most satisfactory letter from Mrs. John +Todhunter: quite a glowing account of John's behaviour: +but on Richard's desiring to know the words Clare had +written, Mrs. Doria objected to be explicit, and shot into +worldly gossip.</p> + +<p>"Clare seldom glows," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"No, I mean <i>for her</i>," his aunt remarked. "Don't look +like your father, child."</p> + +<p>"I should like to have seen the letter," said Richard.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria did not propose to show it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>A DINNER-PARTY AT RICHMOND</h3> + + +<p>A lady driving a pair of greys was noticed by Richard +in his rides and walks. She passed him rather obviously +and often. She was very handsome; a bold beauty, with +shining black hair, red lips, and eyes not afraid of men. +The hair was brushed from her temples, leaving one of +those fine reckless outlines which the action of driving, +and the pace, admirably set off. She took his fancy. He +liked the air of petulant gallantry about her, and mused +upon the picture, rare to him, of a glorious dashing +woman. He thought, too, she looked at him. He was +not at the time inclined to be vain, or he might have been +sure she did. Once it struck him she nodded slightly.</p> + +<p>He asked Adrian one day in the park—who she was.</p> + +<p>"I don't know her," said Adrian. "Probably a superior +priestess of Paphos."</p> + +<p>"Now that's my idea of Bellona," Richard exclaimed. +"Not the fury they paint, but a spirited, dauntless, eager-looking +creature like that."</p> + +<p>"Bellona?" returned the wise youth. "I don't think +her hair was black. Red, wasn't it? I shouldn't compare +her to Bellona; though, no doubt, she's as ready to spill +blood. Look at her! She does seem to scent carnage. I +see your idea. No; I should liken her to Diana emerged +from the tutorship of Master Endymion, and at nice play +among the gods. Depend upon it—they tell us nothing of +the matter—Olympus shrouds the story—but you may be +certain that when she left the pretty shepherd she had +greater vogue than Venus up aloft."</p> + +<p>Brayder joined them.</p> + +<p>"See Mrs. Mount go by?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's Mrs. Mount!" cried Adrian.</p> + +<p>"Who's Mrs. Mount?" Richard inquired.</p> + +<p>"A sister to Miss Random, my dear boy."</p> + +<p>"Like to know her?" drawled the Hon. Peter.</p> + +<p>Richard replied indifferently, "No," and Mrs. Mount +passed out of sight and out of the conversation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> + +<p>The young man wrote submissive letters to his father. +"I have remained here waiting to see you now five weeks," +he wrote. "I have written to you three letters, and you do +not reply to them. Let me tell you again how sincerely I +desire and pray that you will come, or permit me to come +to you and throw myself at your feet, and beg my forgiveness, +and hers. She as earnestly implores it. Indeed, I +am very wretched, sir. Believe me, there is nothing I +would not do to regain your esteem and the love I fear +I have unhappily forfeited. I will remain another week +in the hope of hearing from you, or seeing you. I beg +of you, sir, not to drive me mad. Whatever you ask of +me I will consent to."</p> + +<p>"Nothing he would not do!" the baronet commented as +he read. "There is nothing he would not do! He will +remain another week and give me that final chance! And +it is I who drive him mad! Already he is beginning to +cast his retribution on my shoulders."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin had really gone down to Wales to be out of +the way. A Shaddock-Dogmatist does not meet misfortune +without hearing of it, and the author of <span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's +Scrip</span> in trouble found London too hot for him. He +quitted London to take refuge among the mountains; +living there in solitary commune with a virgin Note-book.</p> + +<p>Some indefinite scheme was in his head in this treatment +of his son. Had he construed it, it would have +looked ugly; and it settled to a vague principle that the +young man should be tried and tested.</p> + +<p>"Let him learn to deny himself something. Let him live +with his equals for a term. If he loves me he will read +my wishes." Thus he explained his principle to Lady +Blandish.</p> + +<p>The lady wrote: "You speak of a term. Till when? +May I name one to him? It is the dreadful <i>uncertainty</i> +that reduces him to despair. That, and nothing else. +Pray be explicit."</p> + +<p>In return, he distantly indicated Richard's majority.</p> + +<p>How could Lady Blandish go and ask the young man +to wait a year away from his wife? Her instinct began +to open a wide eye on the idol she worshipped.</p> + +<p>When people do not themselves know what they mean, +they succeed in deceiving and imposing upon others.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +Not only was Lady Blandish mystified; Mrs. Doria, who +pierced into the recesses of everybody's mind, and had +always been in the habit of reading off her brother from +infancy, and had never known herself to be once wrong +about him, she confessed she was quite at a loss to comprehend +Austin's principle. "For principle he has," said +Mrs. Doria; "he never acts without one. But what it is, +I cannot at present perceive. If he would write, and +command the boy to await his return, all would be clear. +He allows us to go and fetch him, and then leaves us +all in a quandary. It must be some woman's influence. +That is the only way to account for it."</p> + +<p>"Singular!" interjected Adrian, "what pride women +have in their sex! Well, I have to tell you, my dear +aunt, that the day after to-morrow I hand my charge over +to your keeping. I can't hold him in an hour longer. +I've had to leash him with lies till my invention's exhausted. +I petition to have them put down to the chief's +account, but when the stream runs dry I can do no more. +The last was, that I had heard from him desiring me +to have the South-west bedroom ready for him on Tuesday +proximate. 'So!' says my son, 'I'll wait till then,' +and from the gigantic effort he exhibited in coming to it, +I doubt any human power's getting him to wait longer."</p> + +<p>"We must, we must detain him," said Mrs. Doria. "If +we do not, I am convinced Austin will do something rash +that he will for ever repent. He will marry that woman, +Adrian. Mark my words. Now with any other young +man!... But Richard's education! that ridiculous +System!... Has he no distraction? nothing to amuse +him?"</p> + +<p>"Poor boy! I suppose he wants his own particular +playfellow."</p> + +<p>The wise youth had to bow to a reproof.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Adrian, he will marry that woman."</p> + +<p>"My dear aunt! Can a chaste man do aught more +commendable?"</p> + +<p>"Has the boy no object we can induce him to follow?—If +he had but a profession!"</p> + +<p>"What say you to the regeneration of the streets of +London, and the profession of moral-scavenger, aunt? +I assure you I have served a month's apprenticeship with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +him. We sally forth on the tenth hour of the night. A +female passes. I hear him groan. 'Is <i>she</i> one of them, +Adrian?' I am compelled to admit she is not the saint +he deems it the portion of every creature wearing petticoats +to be. Another groan; an evident internal, 'It +cannot be—and yet!' ... that we hear on the stage. +Rollings of eyes: impious questionings of the Creator of +the universe; savage mutterings against brutal males; +and then we meet a second young person, and repeat the +performance—of which I am rather tired. It would be +all very well, but he turns upon me, and lectures me +because I don't hire a house, and furnish it for all the +women one meets to live in in purity. Now that's too +much to ask of a quiet man. Master Thompson has +latterly relieved me, I'm happy to say."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria thought her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Has Austin written to you since you were in town?"</p> + +<p>"Not an Aphorism!" returned Adrian.</p> + +<p>"I must see Richard to-morrow morning," Mrs. Doria +ended the colloquy by saying.</p> + +<p>The result of her interview with her nephew was, that +Richard made no allusion to a departure on the Tuesday; +and for many days afterward he appeared to have an +absorbing business on his hands: but what it was Adrian +did not then learn, and his admiration of Mrs. Doria's +genius for management rose to a very high pitch.</p><br /> + + +<p>On a morning in October they had an early visitor in +the person of the Hon. Peter, whom they had not seen +for a week or more.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he said, flourishing his cane in his most +affable manner, "I've come to propose to you to join us +in a little dinner-party at Richmond. Nobody's in town, +you know. London's as dead as a stock-fish. Nothing +but the scrapings to offer you. But the weather's fine: +I flatter myself you'll find the company agreeable. What +says my friend Feverel?"</p> + +<p>Richard begged to be excused.</p> + +<p>"No, no: positively you must come," said the Hon. +Peter. "I've had some trouble to get them together to +relieve the dulness of your incarceration. Richmond's +within the rules of your prison. You can be back by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +night. Moonlight on the water—lovely woman. We've +engaged a city-barge to pull us back. Eight oars—I'm +not sure it isn't sixteen. Come—the word!"</p> + +<p>Adrian was for going. Richard said he had an appointment +with Ripton.</p> + +<p>"You're in for another rick, you two," said Adrian. +"Arrange that we go. You haven't seen the cockney's +Paradise. Abjure Blazes, and taste of peace, my son."</p> + +<p>After some persuasion, Richard yawned wearily, and +got up, and threw aside the care that was on him, saying, +"Very well. Just as you like. We'll take old Rip with us."</p> + +<p>Adrian consulted Brayder's eye at this. The Hon. +Peter briskly declared he should be delighted to have +Feverel's friend, and offered to take them all down in +his drag.</p> + +<p>"If you don't get a match on to swim there with the +tide—eh, Feverel, my boy?"</p> + +<p>Richard replied that he had given up that sort of +thing, at which Brayder communicated a queer glance +to Adrian, and applauded the youth.</p> + +<p>Richmond was under a still October sun. The pleasant +landscape, bathed in Autumn, stretched from the foot of +the hill to a red horizon haze. The day was like none +that Richard vividly remembered. It touched no link in +the chain of his recollection. It was quiet, and belonged +to the spirit of the season.</p> + +<p>Adrian had divined the character of the scrapings they +were to meet. Brayder introduced them to one or two of +the men, hastily and in rather an undervoice, as a thing to +get over. They made their bow to the first knot of ladies +they encountered. Propriety was observed strictly, even +to severity. The general talk was of the weather. Here +and there a lady would seize a button-hole or any little +bit of the habiliments, of the man she was addressing; +and if it came to her to chide him, she did it with more +than a forefinger. This, however, was only here and +there, and a privilege of intimacy.</p> + +<p>Where ladies are gathered together, the Queen of the +assemblage may be known by her Court of males. The +Queen of the present gathering leaned against a corner of +the open window, surrounded by a stalwart Court, in whom +a practised eye would have discerned guardsmen, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +Ripton, with a sinking of the heart, apprehended lords. +They were fine men, offering inanimate homage. The +trim of their whiskerage, the cut of their coats, the high-bred +indolence in their aspect, eclipsed Ripton's sense of +self-esteem. But they kindly looked over him. Occasionally +one committed a momentary outrage on him with an +eye-glass, seeming to cry out in a voice of scathing scorn, +"Who's this?" and Ripton got closer to his hero to justify +his humble pretensions to existence and an identity in +the shadow of him. Richard gazed about. Heroes do +not always know what to say or do; and the cold bath +before dinner in strange company is one of the instances. +He had recognized his superb Bellona in the lady by the +garden window. For Brayder the men had nods and +jokes, the ladies a pretty playfulness. He was very busy, +passing between the groups, chatting, laughing, taking +the feminine taps he received, and sometimes returning +them in sly whispers. Adrian sat down and crossed his +legs, looking amused and benignant.</p> + +<p>"Whose dinner is it?" Ripton heard a mignonne beauty +ask of a cavalier.</p> + +<p>"Mount's, I suppose," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"Where is he? Why don't he come?"</p> + +<p>"An affaire, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"There he is again! How shamefully he treats Mrs. +Mount!"</p> + +<p>"She don't seem to cry over it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mount was flashing her teeth and eyes with +laughter at one of her Court, who appeared to be Fool.</p> + +<p>Dinner was announced. The ladies proclaimed extravagant +appetites. Brayder posted his three friends. Ripton +found himself under the lee of a dame with a bosom. On +the other side of him was the mignonne. Adrian was at +the lower end of the table. Ladies were in profusion, and +he had his share. Brayder drew Richard from seat to +seat. A happy man had established himself next to Mrs. +Mount. Him Brayder hailed to take the head of the +table. The happy man objected, Brayder continued urgent, +the lady tenderly insisted, the happy man grimaced, +dropped into the post of honour, strove to look placable. +Richard usurped his chair, and was not badly welcomed +by his neighbour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the dinner commenced, and had all the attention +of the company, till the flying of the first champagne-cork +gave the signal, and a hum began to spread. Sparkling +wine, that looseneth the tongue, and displayeth the verity, +hath also the quality of colouring it. The ladies laughed +high; Richard only thought them gay and natural. They +flung back in their chairs and laughed to tears; Ripton +thought only of the pleasure he had in their society. The +champagne-corks continued a regular file-firing.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been lately? I haven't seen you in +the park," said Mrs. Mount to Richard.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied, "I've not been there." The question +seemed odd: she spoke so simply that it did not impress +him. He emptied his glass, and had it filled again.</p> + +<p>The Hon. Peter did most of the open talking, which +related to horses, yachting, opera, and sport generally: +who was ruined, by what horse, or by what woman. He +told one or two of Richard's feats. Fair smiles rewarded +the hero.</p> + +<p>"Do you bet?" said Mrs. Mount.</p> + +<p>"Only on myself," returned Richard.</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" cried his Bellona, and her eye sent a lingering +delirious sparkle across her brimming glass at him.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you're a safe one to back," she added, and +seemed to scan his points approvingly.</p> + +<p>Richard's cheeks mounted bloom.</p> + +<p>"Don't you adore champagne?" quoth the dame with +a bosom to Ripton.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" answered Ripton, with more candour than +accuracy, "I always drink it."</p> + +<p>"Do you indeed?" said the enraptured bosom, ogling +him. "You would be a friend, now! I hope you don't +object to a lady joining you now and then. Champagne's +my folly."</p> + +<p>A laugh was circling among the ladies of whom Adrian +was the centre; first low, and as he continued some narration, +peals resounded, till those excluded from the fun demanded +the cue, and ladies leaned behind gentlemen to +take it up, and formed an electric chain of laughter. +Each one, as her ear received it, caught up her handkerchief, +and laughed, and looked shocked afterwards, or +looked shocked and then spouted laughter. The anecdote<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +might have been communicated to the bewildered cavaliers, +but coming to a lady of a demurer cast, she looked +shocked without laughing, and reproved the female table, +in whose breasts it was consigned to burial: but here +and there a man's head was seen bent, and a lady's mouth +moved, though her face was not turned toward him, and +a man's broad laugh was presently heard, while the lady +gazed unconsciously before her, and preserved her gravity +if she could escape any other lady's eyes; failing in +which, handkerchiefs were simultaneously seized, and a +second chime arose, till the tickling force subsided to a +few chance bursts.</p> + +<p>What nonsense it is that my father writes about women! +thought Richard. He says they can't laugh, and don't +understand humour. It comes, he reflected, of his shutting +himself from the world. And the idea that he was seeing +the world, and feeling wiser, flattered him. He talked +fluently to his dangerous Bellona. He gave her some +reminiscences of Adrian's whimsies.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said she, "that's your tutor, is it!" She eyed +the young man as if she thought he must go far and fast.</p> + +<p>Ripton felt a push. "Look at that," said the bosom, +fuming utter disgust. He was directed to see a manly +arm round the waist of the mignonne. "Now that's what +I don't like in company," the bosom inflated to observe +with sufficient emphasis. "She always will allow it with +everybody. Give her a nudge."</p> + +<p>Ripton protested that he dared not; upon which she +said, "Then I will"; and inclined her sumptuous bust +across his lap, breathing wine in his face, and gave the +nudge. The mignonne turned an inquiring eye on Ripton; +a mischievous spark shot from it. She laughed, +and said: "Aren't you satisfied with the old bird?"</p> + +<p>"Impudence!" muttered the bosom, growing grander +and redder.</p> + +<p>"Do, do fill her glass, and keep her quiet—she drinks +port when there's no more champagne," said the mignonne.</p> + +<p>The bosom revenged herself by whispering to Ripton +scandal of the mignonne, and between them he was enabled +to form a correcter estimate of the company, and +quite recovered from his original awe: so much so as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +to feel a touch of jealousy at seeing his lively little +neighbour still held in absolute possession.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mount did not come out much; but there was a +deferential manner in the bearing of the men toward her, +which those haughty creatures accord not save to clever +women; and she contrived to hold the talk with three or +four at the head of the table while she still had passages +aside with Richard.</p> + +<p>The port and claret went very well after the champagne. +The ladies here did not ignominiously surrender the field +to the gentlemen; they maintained their position with +honour. Silver was seen far out on Thames. The wine +ebbed, and the laughter. Sentiment and cigars took up +the wondrous tale.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a lovely night!" said the ladies, looking above.</p> + +<p>"Charming," said the gentlemen, looking below.</p> + +<p>The faint-smelling cool Autumn air was pleasant after +the feast. Fragrant weeds burned bright about the garden.</p> + +<p>"We are split into couples," said Adrian to Richard, +who was standing alone, eying the landscape. "'Tis the +influence of the moon! Apparently we are in Cyprus. +How has my son enjoyed himself? How likes he the +society of Aspasia? I feel like a wise Greek to-night."</p> + +<p>Adrian was jolly, and rolled comfortably as he talked. +Ripton had been carried off by the sentimental bosom. +He came up to them and whispered: "By Jove, Ricky! +do you know what sort of women these are?"</p> + +<p>Richard said he thought them a nice sort.</p> + +<p>"Puritan!" exclaimed Adrian, slapping Ripton on the +back. "Why didn't you get tipsy, sir? Don't you ever +intoxicate yourself except at lawful marriages? Reveal to +us what you have done with the portly dame?"</p> + +<p>Ripton endured his bantering that he might hang about +Richard, and watch over him. He was jealous of his +innocent Beauty's husband being in proximity with such +women. Murmuring couples passed them to and fro.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Ricky!" Ripton favoured his friend with +another hard whisper, "there's a woman smoking!"</p> + +<p>"And why not, O Riptonus?" said Adrian. "Art unaware +that woman cosmopolitan is woman consummate? +and dost grumble to pay the small price for the splendid +gem?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I don't like women to smoke," said plain Ripton.</p> + +<p>"Why mayn't they do what men do?" the hero cried +impetuously. "I hate that contemptible narrow-mindedness. +It's that makes the ruin and horrors I see. Why +mayn't they do what men do? I like the women who +are brave enough not to be hypocrites. By heaven! if +these women are bad, I like them better than a set of +hypocritical creatures who are all show, and deceive you +in the end."</p> + +<p>"Bravo!" shouted Adrian. "There speaks the regenerator."</p> + +<p>Ripton, as usual, was crushed by his leader. He had +no argument. He still thought women ought not to +smoke; and he thought of one far away, lonely by the +sea, who was perfect without being cosmopolitan.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Pilgrim's Scrip</span> remarks that: "Young men take +joy in nothing so much as the thinking women Angels: +and nothing sours men of experience more than knowing +that all are not quite so."</p> + +<p>The Aphorist would have pardoned Ripton Thompson +his first Random extravagance, had he perceived the +simple warm-hearted worship of feminine goodness Richard's +young bride had inspired in the breast of the youth. +It might possibly have taught him to put deeper trust in +our nature.</p> + +<p>Ripton thought of her, and had a feeling of sadness. +He wandered about the grounds by himself, went through +an open postern, and threw himself down among some +bushes on the slope of the hill. Lying there, and meditating, +he became aware of voices conversing.</p> + +<p>"What does he want?" said a woman's voice. "It's +another of his villainies, I know. Upon my honour, Brayder, +when I think of what I have to reproach him for, I +think I must go mad, or kill him."</p> + +<p>"Tragic!" said the Hon. Peter. "Haven't you revenged +yourself, Bella, pretty often? Best deal openly. This +is a commercial transaction. You ask for money, and +you are to have it—on the conditions: double the sum, +and debts paid."</p> + +<p>"He applies to me!"</p> + +<p>"You know, my dear Bella, it has long been all up +between you. I think Mount has behaved very well, considering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> +all he knows. He's not easily hoodwinked, you +know. He resigns himself to his fate, and follows other +game."</p> + +<p>"Then the condition is, that I am to seduce this young +man?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Bella! you strike your bird like a hawk. I +didn't say seduce. Hold him in—play with him. Amuse +him."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand half-measures."</p> + +<p>"Women seldom do."</p> + +<p>"How I hate you, Brayder!"</p> + +<p>"I thank your ladyship."</p> + +<p>The two walked farther. Ripton had heard some little +of the colloquy. He left the spot in a serious mood, apprehensive +of something dark to the people he loved, +though he had no idea of what the Hon. Peter's stipulation +involved.</p> + +<p>On the voyage back to town, Richard was again selected +to sit by Mrs. Mount. Brayder and Adrian started the +jokes. The pair of parasites got on extremely well together. +Soft fell the plash of the oars; softly the moonlight +curled around them; softly the banks glided by. The +ladies were in a state of high sentiment. They sang +without request. All deemed the British ballad-monger an +appropriate interpreter of their emotions. After good +wine, and plenty thereof, fair throats will make men of +taste swallow that remarkable composer. Eyes, lips, +hearts; darts and smarts and sighs; beauty, duty; bosom, +blossom; false one, farewell! To this pathetic strain +they melted. Mrs. Mount, though strongly requested, +declined to sing. She preserved her state. Under the +tall aspens of Brentford-ait, and on they swept, the white +moon in their wake. Richard's hand lay open by his side. +Mrs. Mount's little white hand by misadventure fell into +it. It was not pressed, or soothed for its fall, or made +intimate with eloquent fingers. It lay there like a bit of +snow on the cold ground. A yellow leaf wavering down +from the aspens struck Richard's cheek, and he drew away +the very hand to throw back his hair and smooth his face, +and then folded his arms, unconscious of offence. He +was thinking ambitiously of his life: his blood was untroubled, +his brain calmly working.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Which is the more perilous?" is a problem put by the +<span class="smcap">Pilgrim</span>: "To meet the temptings of Eve, or to pique +her?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mount stared at the young man as at a curiosity, +and turned to flirt with one of her Court. The Guardsmen +were mostly sentimental. One or two rattled, and one +was such a good-humoured fellow that Adrian could not +make him ridiculous. The others seemed to give themselves +up to a silent waxing in length of limb. However +far they sat removed, everybody was entangled in their +legs. Pursuing his studies, Adrian came to the conclusion, +that the same close intellectual and moral affinity which +he had discovered to exist between our nobility and our +yeomanry, is to be observed between the Guardsman class, +and that of the corps de ballet: they both live by the +strength of their legs, where also their wits, if they do +not altogether reside there, are principally developed: +both are volage; wine, tobacco, and the moon, influence +both alike; and admitting the one marked difference that +does exist, it is, after all, pretty nearly the same thing to +be coquetting and sinning on two legs as on the point of +a toe.</p> + +<p>A long Guardsman with a deep bass voice sang a doleful +song about the twining tendrils of the heart ruthlessly +torn, but required urgent persuasions and heavy trumpeting +of his lungs to get to the end: before he had accomplished +it, Adrian had contrived to raise a laugh in +his neighbourhood, so that the company was divided, and +the camp split: jollity returned to one-half, while sentiment +held the other. Ripton, blotted behind the bosom, +was only lucky in securing a higher degree of heat than +was possible for the rest. "Are you cold?" she would ask, +smiling charitably.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> am," said the mignonne, as if to excuse her conduct.</p> + +<p>"You always appear to be," the fat one sniffed and +snapped.</p> + +<p>"Won't you warm two, Mrs. Mortimer?" said the +naughty little woman.</p> + +<p>Disdain prevented any further notice of her. Those +familiar with the ladies enjoyed their sparring, which was +frequent. The mignonne was heard to whisper: "That +poor fellow will certainly be stewed."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p> + +<p>Very prettily the ladies took and gave warmth, for the +air on the water was chill and misty. Adrian had beside +him the demure one who had stopped the circulation of +his anecdote. She in nowise objected to the fair exchange, +but said "Hush!" betweenwhiles.</p> + +<p>Past Kew and Hammersmith, on the cool smooth water; +across Putney reach; through Battersea bridge; and the +City grew around them, and the shadows of great mill-factories +slept athwart the moonlight.</p> + +<p>All the ladies prattled sweetly of a charming day when +they alighted on land. Several cavaliers crushed for the +honour of conducting Mrs. Mount to her home.</p> + +<p>"My brougham's here; I shall go alone," said Mrs. +Mount. "Some one arrange my shawl."</p> + +<p>She turned her back to Richard, who had a view of a +delicate neck as he manipulated with the bearing of a +mailed knight.</p> + +<p>"Which way are you going?" she asked carelessly, and, +to his reply as to the direction, said: "Then I can give you +a lift," and she took his arm with a matter-of-course air, +and walked up the stairs with him.</p> + +<p>Ripton saw what had happened. He was going to follow: +the portly dame retained him, and desired him to +get her a cab.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you happy fellow!" said the bright-eyed mignonne, +passing by.</p> + +<p>Ripton procured the cab, and stuffed it full without +having to get into it himself.</p> + +<p>"Try and let him come in too?" said the persecuting +creature, again passing.</p> + +<p>"Take liberties with your men—you shan't with me," +retorted the angry bosom, and drove off.</p> + +<p>"So she's been and gone and run away and left him +after all his trouble!" cried the pert little thing, peering +into Ripton's eyes. "Now you'll never be so foolish as to +pin your faith to fat women again. There! he shall be +made happy another time." She gave his nose a comical +tap, and tripped away with her possessor.</p> + +<p>Ripton rather forgot his friend for some minutes: Random +thoughts laid hold of him. Cabs and carriages rattled +past. He was sure he had been among members of the +nobility that day, though when they went by him now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +they only recognized him with an effort of the eyelids. +He began to think of the day with exultation, as an event. +Recollections of the mignonne were captivating. "Blue +eyes—just what I like! And such a little impudent nose, +and red lips, pouting—the very thing I like! And her +hair? darkish, I think—say brown. And so saucy, and +light on her feet. And kind she is, or she wouldn't have +talked to me like that." Thus, with a groaning soul, he +pictured her. His reason voluntarily consigned her to +the aristocracy as a natural appanage: but he did amorously +wish that Fortune had made a lord of him.</p> + +<p>Then his mind reverted to Mrs. Mount, and the strange +bits of the conversation he had heard on the hill. He was +not one to suspect anybody positively. He was timid of +fixing a suspicion. It hovered indefinitely, and clouded +people, without stirring him to any resolve. Still the attentions +of the lady toward Richard were queer. He endeavoured +to imagine they were in the nature of things, +because Richard was so handsome that any woman must +take to him. "But he's married," said Ripton, "and he +mustn't go near these people if he's married." Not a +high morality, perhaps: better than none at all: better for +the world were it practised more. He thought of Richard +along with that sparkling dame, alone with her. The +adorable beauty of his dear bride, her pure heavenly face, +swam before him. Thinking of her, he lost sight of the +mignonne who had made him giddy.</p> + +<p>He walked to Richard's hotel, and up and down the +street there, hoping every minute to hear his step; sometimes +fancying he might have returned and gone to bed. +Two o'clock struck. Ripton could not go away. He was +sure he should not sleep if he did. At last the cold sent +him homeward, and leaving the street, on the moonlight +side of Piccadilly he met his friend patrolling with his +head up and that swing of the feet proper to men who are +chanting verses.</p> + +<p>"Old Rip!" cried Richard, cheerily. "What on earth +are you doing here at this hour of the morning?"</p> + +<p>Ripton muttered of his pleasure at meeting him. "I +wanted to shake your hand before I went home."</p> + +<p>Richard smiled on him in an amused kindly way. +"That all? You may shake my hand any day, like a true<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> +man as you are, old Rip! I've been speaking about you. +Do you know, that—Mrs. Mount—never saw you all the +time at Richmond, or in the boat!"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Ripton said, well assured that he was a dwarf: +"you saw her safe home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I've been there for the last couple of hours—talking. +She talks capitally: she's wonderfully clever. +She's very like a man, only much nicer. I like her."</p> + +<p>"But, Richard, excuse me—I'm sure I don't mean to +offend you—but now you're married ... perhaps you +couldn't help seeing her home, but I think you really indeed +oughtn't to have gone upstairs."</p> + +<p>Ripton delivered this opinion with a modest impressiveness.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" said Richard. "You don't suppose +I care for any woman but my little darling down +there." He laughed.</p> + +<p>"No; of course not. That's absurd. What I mean is, +that people perhaps will—you know, they do—they say +all manner of things, and that makes unhappiness, and +... I do wish you were going home to-morrow, Ricky. I +mean, to your dear wife." Ripton blushed and looked +away as he spoke.</p> + +<p>The hero gave one of his scornful glances. "So you're +anxious about my reputation. I hate that way of looking +on women. Because they have been once misled—look +how much weaker they are!—because the world has given +them an ill fame, you would treat them as contagious, +and keep away from them for the sake of your character!"</p> + +<p>"It would be different with me," quoth Ripton.</p> + +<p>"How?" asked the hero.</p> + +<p>"Because I'm worse than you," was all the logical explanation +Ripton was capable of.</p> + +<p>"I do hope you will go home soon," he added.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Richard, "and I, so do I hope so. But I've +work to do now. I dare not, I cannot, leave it. Lucy +would be the last to ask me;—you saw her letter yesterday. +Now listen to me, Rip. I want to make you be just +to women."</p> + +<p>Then he read Ripton a lecture on erring women, speaking +of them as if he had known them and studied them +for years. Clever, beautiful, but betrayed by love, it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> +the first duty of all true men to cherish and redeem them. +"We turn them into curses, Rip; these divine creatures." +And the world suffered for it. That—that was the root +of all the evil in the world!</p> + +<p>"I don't feel anger or horror at these poor women, Rip! +It's strange. I knew what they were when we came home +in the boat. But I do—it tears my heart to see a young +girl given over to an old man—a man she doesn't love. +That's shame!—Don't speak of it."</p> + +<p>Forgetting to contest the premise, that all betrayed +women are betrayed by love, Ripton was quite silenced. +He, like most young men, had pondered somewhat on this +matter, and was inclined to be sentimental when he was +not hungry. They walked in the moonlight by the railings +of the park. Richard harangued at leisure, while Ripton's +teeth chattered. Chivalry might be dead, but still there +was something to do, went the strain. The lady of the +day had not been thrown in the hero's path without an +object, he said; and he was sadly right there. He did not +express the thing clearly; nevertheless Ripton understood +him to mean, he intended to rescue that lady from further +transgressions, and show a certain scorn of the world. +That lady, and then other ladies unknown, were to be +rescued. Ripton was to help. He and Ripton were to be +the knights of this enterprise. When appealed to, Ripton +acquiesced, and shivered. Not only were they to be +knights, they would have to be Titans, for the powers of +the world, the spurious ruling Social Gods, would have to +be defied and overthrown. And Titan number one flung +up his handsome bold face as if to challenge base Jove on +the spot; and Titan number two strained the upper button +of his coat to meet across his pocket-handkerchief on +his chest, and warmed his fingers under his coat-tails. +The moon had fallen from her high seat and was in the +mists of the West, when he was allowed to seek his +blankets, and the cold acting on his friend's eloquence +made Ripton's flesh very contrite. The poor fellow had +thinner blood than the hero; but his heart was good. By +the time he had got a little warmth about him, his heart +gratefully strove to encourage him in the conception of +becoming a knight and a Titan; and so striving Ripton +fell asleep and dreamed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h3>MRS. BERRY ON MATRIMONY</h3> + + +<p>Behold the hero embarked in the redemption of an +erring beautiful woman.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Alas!" writes the Pilgrim at this very time to Lady Blandish, "I +cannot get that legend of the Serpent from me, the more I +think. Has he not caught you, and ranked you foremost in his +legions? For see: till you were fashioned, the fruits hung +immobile on the boughs. They swayed before us, glistening +and cold. The hand must be eager that plucked them. They +did not come down to us, and smile, and speak our language, +and read our thoughts, and know when to fly, when to follow! +how surely to have us!</p> + +<p>"Do but mark one of you standing openly in the track +of the Serpent. What shall be done with her? I fear the +world is wiser than its judges! Turn from her, says the +world. By day the sons of the world do. It darkens, and +they dance together downward. Then comes there one of +the world's elect who deems old counsel devilish; indifference +to the end of evil worse than its pursuit. He comes to +reclaim her. From deepest bane will he bring her back +to highest blessing. Is not that a bait already? Poor fish! +'tis wondrous flattering. The Serpent has slimed her so +to secure him! With slow weary steps he draws her into +light: she clings to him; she is human; part of his work, +and he loves it. As they mount upward, he looks on her +more, while she, it may be, looks above. What has touched +him? What has passed out of her, and into him? The +Serpent laughs below. At the gateways of the Sun they +fall together!"</p></blockquote> + +<p>This alliterative production was written without any +sense of the peril that makes prophecy.</p> + +<p>It suited Sir Austin to write thus. It was a channel to +his acrimony moderated through his philosophy. The letter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +was a reply to a vehement entreaty from Lady Blandish +for him to come up to Richard and forgive him +thoroughly: Richard's name was not mentioned in it.</p> + +<p>"He tries to be more than he is," thought the lady: +and she began insensibly to conceive him less than he +was.</p> + +<p>The baronet was conscious of a certain false gratification +in his son's apparent obedience to his wishes and +complete submission; a gratification he chose to accept as +his due, without dissecting or accounting for it. The intelligence +reiterating that Richard waited, and still +waited; Richard's letters, and more his dumb abiding and +practical penitence; vindicated humanity sufficiently to +stop the course of virulent aphorisms. He could speak, we +have seen, in sorrow for this frail nature of ours, that he +had once stood forth to champion. "But how long will +this last?" he demanded, with the air of Hippias. He did +not reflect how long it had lasted. Indeed, his indigestion +of wrath had made of him a moral Dyspepsy.</p> + +<p>It was not mere obedience that held Richard from the +arms of his young wife: nor was it this new knightly +enterprise he had presumed to undertake. Hero as he +was, a youth, open to the insane promptings of hot blood, +he was not a fool. There had been talk between him and +Mrs. Doria of his mother. Now that he had broken from +his father, his heart spoke for her. She lived, he knew: +he knew no more. Words painfully hovering along the +borders of plain speech had been communicated to him, +filling him with moody imaginings. If he thought of her, +the red was on his face, though he could not have said +why. But now, after canvassing the conduct of his +father, and throwing him aside as a terrible riddle, he +asked Mrs. Doria to tell him of his other parent. As +softly as she could she told the story. To her the shame +was past: she could weep for the poor lady. Richard +dropped no tears. Disgrace of this kind is always present +to a son, and, educated as he had been, these tidings were +a vivid fire in his brain. He resolved to hunt her out, +and take her from the man. Here was work set to his +hand. All her dear husband did was right to Lucy. She +encouraged him to stay for that purpose, thinking it also +served another. There was Tom Bakewell to watch over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +Lucy: there was work for him to do. Whether it would +please his father he did not stop to consider. As to the +justice of the act, let us say nothing.</p> + +<p>On Ripton devolved the humbler task of grubbing for +Sandoe's place of residence; and as he was unacquainted +with the name by which the poet now went in private, his +endeavours were not immediately successful. The friends +met in the evening at Lady Blandish's town-house, or at +the Foreys', where Mrs. Doria procured the reverer of the +Royal Martyr, and staunch conservative, a favourable +reception. Pity, deep pity for Richard's conduct Ripton +saw breathing out of Mrs. Doria. Algernon Feverel +treated his nephew with a sort of rough commiseration, as +a young fellow who had run off the road.</p> + +<p>Pity was in Lady Blandish's eyes, though for a different +cause. She doubted if she did well in seconding his +father's unwise scheme—supposing him to have a scheme. +She saw the young husband encompassed by dangers at a +critical time. Not a word of Mrs. Mount had been +breathed to her, but the lady had some knowledge of life. +She touched on delicate verges to the baronet in her letters, +and he understood her well enough. "If he loves +this person to whom he has bound himself, what fear for +him? Or are you coming to think it something that bears +the name of love because we have to veil the rightful +appellation?" So he responded, remote among the mountains. +She tried very hard to speak plainly. Finally he +came to say, that he denied himself the pleasure of seeing +his son specially, that he for a time might be put to the +test the lady seemed to dread. This was almost too much +for Lady Blandish. Love's charity boy so loftily serene +now that she saw him half denuded—a thing of shanks +and wrists—was a trial for her true heart.</p> + +<p>Going home at night Richard would laugh at the faces +made about his marriage. "We'll carry the day, Rip, my +Lucy and I! or I'll do it alone—what there is to do." He +slightly adverted to a natural want of courage in women, +which Ripton took to indicate that his Beauty was deficient +in that quality. Up leapt the Old Dog; "I'm sure +there never was a braver creature upon earth, Richard! +She's as brave as she's lovely, I'll swear she is! Look how +she behaved that day! How her voice sounded! She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +was trembling.... Brave? She'd follow you into battle +Richard!"</p> + +<p>And Richard rejoined: "Talk on, dear old Rip! She's +my darling love, whatever she is! And she is gloriously +lovely. No eyes are like hers. I'll go down to-morrow +morning the first thing."</p> + +<p>Ripton only wondered the husband of such a treasure +could remain apart from it. So thought Richard for a +space.</p> + +<p>"But if I go, Rip," he said despondently, "if I go for a +day even I shall have undone all my work with my father. +She says it herself—you saw it in her last letter."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Ripton assented, and the words "Please remember +me to dear Mr. Thompson," fluttered about the Old +Dog's heart.</p><br /> + + +<p>It came to pass that Mrs. Berry, having certain business +that led her through Kensington Gardens, spied a figure +that she had once dandled in long clothes, and helped make +a man of, if ever woman did. He was walking under the +trees beside a lady, talking to her, not indifferently. The +gentleman was her bridegroom and her babe. "I know +his back," said Mrs. Berry, as if she had branded a mark +on it in infancy. But the lady was not her bride. Mrs. +Berry diverged from the path, and got before them on the +left flank; she stared, retreated, and came round upon the +right. There was that in the lady's face which Mrs. Berry +did not like. Her innermost question was, why he was +not walking with his own wife? She stopped in front of +them. They broke, and passed about her. The lady made +a laughing remark to him, whereat he turned to look, and +Mrs. Berry bobbed. She had to bob a second time, and +then he remembered the worthy creature, and hailed her +Penelope, shaking her hand so that he put her in countenance +again. Mrs. Berry was extremely agitated. He +dismissed her, promising to call upon her in the evening. +She heard the lady slip out something from a side of her +lip, and they both laughed as she toddled off to a sheltering +tree to wipe a corner of each eye. "I don't like the +looks of that woman," she said, and repeated it resolutely.</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't he walk arm-in-arm with her?" was her +next inquiry. "Where's his wife?" succeeded it. After<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +many interrogations of the sort, she arrived at naming +the lady a bold-faced thing; adding subsequently, brazen. +The lady had apparently shown Mrs. Berry that she wished +to get rid of her, and had checked the outpouring of her +emotions on the breast of her babe. "I know a lady when +I see one," said Mrs. Berry. "I haven't lived with 'em +for nothing; and if she's a lady bred and born, I wasn't +married in the church alive."</p> + +<p>Then, if not a lady, what was she? Mrs. Berry desired +to know. "She's imitation lady, I'm sure she is!" Berry +vowed. "I say she don't look proper."</p> + +<p>Establishing the lady to be a spurious article, however, +what was one to think of a married man in company with +such? "Oh no! it ain't that!" Mrs. Berry returned immediately +on the charitable tack. "Belike it's some one of +his acquaintance 've married her for her looks, and he've +just met her.... Why it'd be as bad as my Berry!" the +relinquished spouse of Berry ejaculated, in horror at the +idea of a second man being so monstrous in wickedness. +"Just coupled, too!" Mrs. Berry groaned on the suspicious +side of the debate. "And such a sweet young +thing for his wife! But no, I'll never believe it. Not if +he tell me so himself! And men don't do that," she +whimpered.</p> + +<p>Women are swift at coming to conclusions in these matters; +soft women exceedingly swift: and soft women who +have been betrayed are rapid beyond measure. Mrs. +Berry had not cogitated long ere she pronounced distinctly +and without a shadow of dubiosity: "My opinion is—married +or not married, and wheresomever he pick her up—she's +nothin' more nor less than a Bella Donna!" as +which poisonous plant she forthwith registered the lady +in the botanical note-book of her brain. It would have +astonished Mrs. Mount to have heard her person so accurately +hit off at a glance.</p> + +<p>In the evening Richard made good his promise, accompanied +by Ripton. Mrs. Berry opened the door to them. +She could not wait to get him into the parlour. "You're +my own blessed babe; and I'm as good as your mother,—though +I didn't suck ye, bein' a maid!" she cried, falling +into his arms, while Richard did his best to support the +unexpected burden. Then reproaching him tenderly for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> +his guile—at mention of which Ripton chuckled, deeming +it his own most honourable portion of the plot—Mrs. +Berry led them into the parlour, and revealed to Richard +who she was, and how she had tossed him, and hugged +him, and kissed him all over, when he was only that big—showing +him her stumpy fat arm. "I kissed ye from head +to tail, I did," said Mrs. Berry, "and you needn't be +ashamed of it. It's be hoped you'll never have nothin' +worse come t'ye, my dear!"</p> + +<p>Richard assured her he was not a bit ashamed, but +warned her that she must not do it now, Mrs. Berry admitting +it was out of the question now, and now that he +had a wife, moreover. The young men laughed, and Ripton +laughing over-loudly drew on himself Mrs. Berry's +attention: "But that Mr. Thompson there—however he +can look me in the face after his inn'cence! helping blindfold +an old woman!—though I ain't sorry for what I did—that +I'm free for to say, and it's over, and blessed be all! +Amen! So now where is she and how is she, Mr. Richard, +my dear—it's only cuttin' off the 's' and you are as you +was.—Why didn't ye bring her with ye to see her old +Berry?"</p> + +<p>Richard hurriedly explained that Lucy was still in the +Isle of Wight.</p> + +<p>"Oh! and you've left her for a day or two?" said Mrs. +Berry.</p> + +<p>"Good God! I wish it had been a day or two," cried +Richard.</p> + +<p>"Ah! and how long have it been?" asked Mrs. Berry, +her heart beginning to beat at his manner of speaking.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk about it," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you never been dudgeonin' already? Oh! you +haven't been peckin' at one another yet?" Mrs. Berry +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Ripton interposed to tell her such fears were unfounded.</p> + +<p>"Then how long ha' you been divided?"</p> + +<p>In a guilty voice Ripton stammered "since September."</p> + +<p>"September!" breathed Mrs. Berry, counting on her +fingers, "September, October, Nov—two months and more! +nigh three! A young married husband away from the +wife of his bosom nigh three months! Oh my! Oh my! +what do that mean?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My father sent for me—I'm waiting to see him," said +Richard. A few more words helped Mrs. Berry to comprehend +the condition of affairs. Then Mrs. Berry spread +her lap, flattened out her hands, fixed her eyes, and spoke.</p> + +<p>"My dear young gentleman!—I'd like to call ye my +darlin' babe! I'm going to speak as a mother to ye, +whether ye likes it or no; and what old Berry says, you +won't mind, for she's had ye when there was no conventionals +about ye, and she has the feelin's of a mother +to you, though humble her state. If there's one that +know matrimony it's me, my dear, though Berry did give +me no more but nine months of it: and I've known the +worst of matrimony, which, if you wants to be woful +wise, there it is for ye. For what have been my gain? +That man gave me nothin' but his name; and Bessy +Andrews was as good as Bessy Berry, though both is 'Bs,' +and says he, you was 'A,' and now you's 'B,' so you're my +A B, he says, write yourself down that, he says, the bad +man, with his jokes!—Berry went to service." Mrs. +Berry's softness came upon her. "So I tell ye, Berry went +to service. He left the wife of his bosom forlorn and he +went to service; because he were al'ays an ambitious man, +and wasn't, so to speak, happy out of his uniform—which +was his livery—not even in my arms: and he let me know +it. He got among them kitchen sluts, which was my +mournin' ready made, and worse than a widow's cap to +me, which is no shame to wear, and some say becoming. +There's no man as ever lived known better than my Berry +how to show his legs to advantage, and gals look at 'em. +I don't wonder now that Berry was prostrated. His +temptations was strong, and his flesh was weak. Then +what I say is, that for a young married man—be he +whomsoever he may be—to be separated from the wife +of his bosom—a young sweet thing, and he an innocent +young gentleman!—so to sunder, in their state, and be +kep' from each other, I say it's as bad as bad can be! For +what is matrimony, my dears? We're told it's a holy +Ordnance. And why are ye so comfortable in matrimony? +For that ye are not a sinnin'! And they that severs ye +they tempts ye to stray: and you learn too late the meanin' +o' them blessin's of the priest—as it was ordained. Separate—what +comes? Fust it's like the circulation of your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +blood a-stoppin'—all goes wrong. Then there's misunderstandings—ye've +both lost the key. Then, behold ye, +there's birds o' prey hoverin' over each on ye, and it's +which'll be snapped up fust. Then—Oh, dear! Oh, dear! +it be like the devil come into the world again." Mrs. +Berry struck her hands and moaned. "A day I'll give ye: +I'll go so far as a week: but there's the outside. Three +months dwellin' apart! That's not matrimony, it's divorcin'! +what can it be to her but widowhood? widowhood +with no cap to show for it! And what can it be to you, +my dear? Think! you been a bachelor three months! and +a bachelor man," Mrs. Berry shook her head most dolefully, +"he ain't a widow woman. I don't go to compare +you to Berry, my dear young gentleman. Some men's +hearts is vagabonds born—they must go astray—it's their +natur' to. But all men are men, and I know the foundation +of 'em, by reason of my woe."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry paused. Richard was humorously respectful +to the sermon. The truth in the good creature's +address was not to be disputed, or despised, notwithstanding +the inclination to laugh provoked by her quaint way of +putting it. Ripton nodded encouragingly at every sentence, +for he saw her drift, and wished to second it.</p> + +<p>Seeking for an illustration of her meaning, Mrs. Berry +solemnly continued: "We all know what checked prespiration +is." But neither of the young gentlemen could resist +this. Out they burst in a roar of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Laugh away," said Mrs. Berry. "I don't mind ye. I +say agin, we all do know what checked prespiration is. It +fly to the lungs, it gives ye mortal inflammation, and it +carries ye off. Then I say checked matrimony is as bad. +It fly to the heart, and it carries off the virtue that's in ye, +and you might as well be dead! Them that is joined it's +their salvation not to separate! It don't so much matter +before it. That Mr. Thompson there—if he go astray, it +ain't from the blessed fold. He hurt himself alone—not +double, and belike treble, for who can say now what may +be? There's time for it. I'm for holding back young +people so that they knows their minds, howsomever they +rattles about their hearts. I ain't a speeder of matrimony, +and good's my reason! but where it's been done—where +they're lawfully joined, and their bodies made one, I do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> +say this, that to put division between 'em then, it's to make +wanderin' comets of 'em—creatures without a objeck, and +no soul can say what they's good for but to rush about!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry here took a heavy breath, as one who has +said her utmost for the time being.</p> + +<p>"My dear old girl," Richard went up to her and, applauding +her on the shoulder, "you're a very wise old +woman. But you mustn't speak to me as if I wanted to +stop here. I'm compelled to. I do it for her good chiefly."</p> + +<p>"It's your father that's doin' it, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm waiting his pleasure."</p> + +<p>"A pretty pleasure! puttin' a snake in the nest of young +turtle-doves! And why don't she come up to you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that you must ask her. The fact is, she's a little +timid girl—she wants me to see him first, and when I've +made all right, then she'll come."</p> + +<p>"A little timid girl!" cried Mrs. Berry. "Oh, lor', how +she must ha' deceived ye to make ye think that! Look at +that ring," she held out her finger, "he's a stranger: he's +not my lawful! You know what ye did to me, my dear. +Could I get my own wedding-ring back from her? 'No!' +says she, firm as a rock, 'he said, <i>with this ring</i> I thee +wed'—I think I see her now, with her pretty eyes and +lovesome locks—a darlin'!—And that ring she'd keep to, +come life, come death. And she must ha' been a rock for +me to give in to her in that. For what's the consequence? +Here am I," Mrs. Berry smoothed down the back of her +hand mournfully, "here am I in a strange ring, that's like +a strange man holdin' of me, and me a-wearin' of it just to +seem decent, and feelin' all over no better than a b—— a +big—that nasty name I can't abide!—I tell you, my dear, +she ain't soft, no!—except to the man of her heart; and +the best of women's too soft there—more's our sorrow!"</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" said Richard, who thought he knew.</p> + +<p>"I agree with you, Mrs. Berry," Ripton struck in, "Mrs. +Richard would do anything in the world her husband +asked her, I'm quite sure."</p> + +<p>"Bless you for your good opinion, Mr. Thompson! +Why, see her! she ain't frail on her feet; she looks ye +straight in the eyes; she ain't one of your hang-down +misses. Look how she behaved at the ceremony!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" sighed Ripton.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And if you'd ha' seen her when she spoke to me about +my ring! Depend upon it, my dear Mr. Richard, if she +blinded you about the nerve she've got, it was somethin' +she thought she ought to do for your sake, and I wish I'd +been by to counsel her, poor blessed babe!—And how much +longer, now, can ye stay divided from that darlin'?"</p> + +<p>Richard paced up and down.</p> + +<p>"A father's will," urged Mrs. Berry, "that's a son's law; +but he mustn't go again' the laws of his nature to do it."</p> + +<p>"Just be quiet at present—talk of other things, there's +a good woman," said Richard.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry meekly folded her arms.</p> + +<p>"How strange, now, our meetin' like this! meetin' at all, +too!" she remarked contemplatively. "It's them advertisements! +They brings people together from the ends of the +earth, for good or for bad. I often say, there's more lucky +accidents, or unlucky ones, since advertisements was the +rule, than ever there was before. They make a number of +romances, depend upon it! Do you walk much in the +Gardens, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Now and then," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"Very pleasant it is there with the fine folks and flowers +and titled people," continued Mrs. Berry. "That was a +handsome woman you was a-walkin' beside, this mornin'."</p> + +<p>"Very," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"She was a handsome woman! or I should say, is, for her +day ain't past, and she know it. I thought at first—by her +back—it might ha' been your aunt, Mrs. Forey; for she do +step out well and hold up her shoulders: straight as a +dart she be! But when I come to see her face—Oh, dear +me! says I, this ain't one of the family. They none of 'em +got such bold faces—nor no <i>lady</i> as I know have. But +she's a fine woman—that nobody can gainsay."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry talked further of the fine woman. It was a +liberty she took to speak in this disrespectful tone of her, +and Mrs. Berry was quite aware that she was laying herself +open to rebuke. She had her end in view. No rebuke +was uttered, and during her talk she observed intercourse +passing between the eyes of the young men.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Penelope," Richard stopped her at last. +"Will it make you comfortable if I tell you I'll obey the +laws of my nature and go down at the end of the week?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll thank the Lord of heaven if you do!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then—be happy—I will. Now listen. I +want you to keep your rooms for me—those she had. I +expect, in a day or two, to bring a lady here"——</p> + +<p>"A lady?" faltered Mrs. Berry.</p> + +<p>"Yes. A lady."</p> + +<p>"May I make so bold as to ask what lady?"</p> + +<p>"You may not. Not now. Of course you will know."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry's short neck made the best imitation it could +of an offended swan's action. She was very angry. She +said she did not like so many ladies, which natural objection +Richard met by saying that there was only one lady.</p> + +<p>"And Mrs. Berry," he added, dropping his voice. "You +will treat her as you did my dear girl, for she will require +not only shelter but kindness. I would rather leave her +with you than with any one. She has been very unfortunate."</p> + +<p>His serious air and habitual tone of command fascinated +the softness of Berry, and it was not until he had +gone that she spoke out. "Unfort'nate! He's going to +bring me an unfort'nate female! Oh! not from my babe +can I bear that! Never will I have her here! I see it. +It's that bold-faced woman he's got mixed up in, and +she've been and made the young man think he'll go for to +reform her. It's one o' their arts—that is; and he's too +innocent a young man to mean anythin' else. But I ain't +a house of Magdalens—no! and sooner than have her here +I'd have the roof fall over me, I would."</p> + +<p>She sat down to eat her supper on the sublime resolve.</p> + +<p>In love, Mrs. Berry's charity was all on the side of the +law, and this is the case with many of her sisters. The +<span class="smcap">Pilgrim</span> sneers at them for it, and would have us credit +that it is their admirable instinct which, at the expense +of every virtue save one, preserves the artificial barrier +simply to impose upon us. Men, I presume, are hardly +fair judges, and should stand aside and mark.</p> + +<p>Early next day Mrs. Berry bundled off to Richard's hotel +to let him know her determination. She did not find him +there. Returning homeward through the park, she beheld +him on horseback riding by the side of the identical lady. +The sight of this public exposure shocked her more than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> +the secret walk under the trees. "You don't look near +your reform yet," Mrs. Berry apostrophized her. "You +don't look to me one that'd come the Fair Penitent till +you've left off bein' fair—if then you do, which some of +ye don't. Laugh away and show yer airs! Spite o' your +hat and feather, and your ridin' habit, you're a Bella +Donna." Setting her down again absolutely for such, +whatever it might signify, Mrs. Berry had a virtuous glow.</p> + +<p>In the evening she heard the noise of wheels stopping +at the door. "Never!" she rose from her chair to exclaim. +"He ain't rided her out in the mornin', and been and made +a Magdalen of her afore dark?"</p> + +<p>A lady veiled was brought into the house by Richard. +Mrs. Berry feebly tried to bar his progress in the passage. +He pushed past her, and conducted the lady into the parlour +without speaking. Mrs. Berry did not follow. She +heard him murmur a few sentences within. Then he came +out. All her crest stood up, as she whispered vigorously, +"Mr. Richard! if that woman stay here, I go forth. My +house ain't a penitentiary for unfort'nate females, sir"——</p> + +<p>He frowned at her curiously; but as she was on the +point of renewing her indignant protest, he clapped his +hand across her mouth, and spoke words in her ear that +had awful import to her. She trembled, breathing low: +"My God, forgive me! Lady Feverel is it? Your mother, +Mr. Richard?" And her virtue was humbled.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + +<h3>AN ENCHANTRESS</h3> + + +<p>One may suppose that a prematurely aged, oily little +man; a poet in bad circumstances; a decrepit butterfly +chained to a disappointed inkstand, will not put out strenuous +energies to retain his ancient paramour when a +robust young man comes imperatively to demand his +mother of him in her person. The colloquy was short +between Diaper Sandoe and Richard. The question was +referred to the poor spiritless lady, who, seeing that her +son made no question of it, cast herself on his hands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> +Small loss to her was Diaper; but he was the loss of +habit, and that is something to a woman who has lived. +The blood of her son had been running so long alien from +her that the sense of her motherhood smote her now with +strangeness, and Richard's stern gentleness seemed like +dreadful justice come upon her. Her heart had almost +forgotten its maternal functions. She called him Sir, till +he bade her remember he was her son. Her voice sounded +to him like that of a broken-throated lamb, so painful +and weak it was, with the plaintive stop in the utterance. +When he kissed her, her skin was cold. Her thin hand +fell out of his when his grasp relaxed. "Can sin hunt +one like this?" he asked, bitterly reproaching himself for +the shame she had caused him to endure, and a deep +compassion filled his breast.</p> + +<p>Poetic justice had been dealt to Diaper the poet. He +thought of all he had sacrificed for this woman—the comfortable +quarters, the friend, the happy flights. He could +not but accuse her of unfaithfulness in leaving him in his +old age. Habit had legalized his union with her. He +wrote as pathetically of the break of habit as men feel +at the death of love; and when we are old and have no +fair hope tossing golden locks before us, a wound to this +our second nature is quite as sad. I know not even if it +be not actually sadder.</p> + +<p>Day by day Richard visited his mother. Lady Blandish +and Ripton alone were in the secret. Adrian let him do +as he pleased. He thought proper to tell him that the +public recognition he accorded to a particular lady was, +in the present state of the world, scarcely prudent.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a proof to me of your moral rectitude, my son, but +the world will not think so. No one character is sufficient +to cover two—in a Protestant country especially. The +divinity that doth hedge a Bishop would have no chance +in contact with your Madam Danaë. Drop the woman, +my son. Or permit <i>me</i> to speak what you would have her +hear."</p> + +<p>Richard listened to him with disgust.</p> + +<p>"Well, you've had my doctorial warning," said Adrian, +and plunged back into his book.</p> + +<p>When Lady Feverel had revived to take part in the consultations +Mrs. Berry perpetually opened on the subject of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> +Richard's matrimonial duty, another chain was cast about +him. "Do not, oh, do not offend your father!" was her +one repeated supplication. Sir Austin had grown to be a +vindictive phantom in her mind. She never wept but +when she said this.</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Berry, to whom Richard had once made mention +of Lady Blandish as the only friend he had among +women, bundled off in her black-satin dress to obtain an +interview with her, and an ally. After coming to an understanding +on the matter of the visit, and reiterating +many of her views concerning young married people, Mrs. +Berry said: "My lady, if I may speak so bold, I'd say +the sin that's bein' done is the sin o' the lookers-on. And +when everybody appear frightened by that young gentleman's +father, I'll say—hopin' your pardon—they no cause +be frighted at all. For though it's nigh twenty year since +I knew him, and I knew him then just sixteen months—no +more—I'll say his heart's as soft as a woman's, which +I've cause for to know. And that's it. That's where +everybody's deceived by him, and I was. It's because he +keeps his face, and makes ye think you're dealin' with a +man of iron, and all the while there's a woman underneath. +And a man that's like a woman he's the puzzle o' life! +We can see through ourselves, my lady, and we can see +through men, but one o' that sort—he's like somethin' out +of nature. Then I say—hopin' be excused—what's to do +is for to treat him <i>like</i> a woman, and not for to let him +'ave his own way—which he don't know himself, and is +why nobody else do. Let that sweet young couple come +together, and be wholesome in spite of him, I say; and +then give him time to come round, just like a woman; and +round he'll come, and give 'em his blessin', and we shall +know we've made him comfortable. He's angry because +matrimony have come between him and his son, and he, +woman-like, he's wantin' to treat what is as if it isn't. +But matrimony's a holier than him. It began long long +before him, and it's be hoped will endoor long's the time +after, if the world's not coming to rack—wishin' him no +harm."</p> + +<p>Now Mrs. Berry only put Lady Blandish's thoughts in +bad English. The lady took upon herself seriously to advise +Richard to send for his wife. He wrote, bidding her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> +come. Lucy, however, had wits, and inexperienced wits +are as a little knowledge. In pursuance of her sage plan +to make the family feel her worth, and to conquer the +members of it one by one, she had got up a correspondence +with Adrian, whom it tickled. Adrian constantly assured +her all was going well: time would heal the wound if both +the offenders had the fortitude to be patient: he fancied +he saw signs of the baronet's relenting: they must do +nothing to arrest those favourable symptoms. Indeed the +wise youth was languidly seeking to produce them. He +wrote, and felt, as Lucy's benefactor. So Lucy replied to +her husband a cheerful rigmarole he could make nothing +of, save that she was happy in hope, and still had fears. +Then Mrs. Berry trained her fist to indite a letter to her +bride. Her bride answered it by saying she trusted to +time. "You poor marter," Mrs. Berry wrote back, "I +know what your sufferin's be. They is the only kind a +wife should never hide from her husband. He thinks all +sorts of things if she can abide being away. And you +trusting to time, why it's like trusting not to catch cold +out of your natural clothes." There was no shaking +Lucy's firmness.</p> + +<p>Richard gave it up. He began to think that the life +lying behind him was the life of a fool. What had he +done in it? He had burnt a rick and got married! He +associated the two acts of his existence. Where was the +hero he was to have carved out of Tom Bakewell!—a +wretch he had taught to lie and chicane: and for what? +Great heavens! how ignoble did a flash from the light +of his aspirations make his marriage appear! The young +man sought amusement. He allowed his aunt to drag +him into society, and sick of that he made late evening +calls on Mrs. Mount, oblivious of the purpose he had in +visiting her at all. Her man-like conversation, which he +took for honesty, was a refreshing change on fair lips.</p> + +<p>"Call me Bella: I'll call you Dick," said she. And it +came to be Bella and Dick between them. No mention of +Bella occurred in Richard's letters to Lucy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mount spoke quite openly of herself. "I pretend +to be no better than I am," she said, "and I know I'm +no worse than many a woman who holds her head high." +To back this she told him stories of blooming dames of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> +good repute, and poured a little social sewerage into his +ears.</p> + +<p>Also she understood him. "What you want, my dear +Dick, is something to do. You went and got married like +a—hum!—friends must be respectful. Go into the Army. +Try the turf. I can put you up to a trick or two—friends +should make themselves useful."</p> + +<p>She told him what she liked in him. "You're the only +man I was ever alone with who don't talk to me of love +and make me feel sick. I hate men who can't speak to +a woman sensibly.—Just wait a minute." She left him +and presently returned with, "Ah, Dick! old fellow! how +are you?"—arrayed like a cavalier, one arm stuck in her +side, her hat jauntily cocked, and a pretty oath on her lips +to give reality to the costume. "What do you think of me? +Wasn't it a shame to make a woman of me when I was +born to be a man?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that," said Richard, for the contrast in +her attire to those shooting eyes and lips, aired her sex +bewitchingly.</p> + +<p>"What! you think I don't do it well?"</p> + +<p>"Charming! but I can't forget...."</p> + +<p>"Now that is too bad!" she pouted.</p> + +<p>Then she proposed that they should go out into the +midnight streets arm-in-arm, and out they went and had +great fits of laughter at her impertinent manner of using +her eye-glass, and outrageous affectation of the supreme +dandy.</p> + +<p>"They take up men, Dick, for going about in women's +clothes, and vice versaw, I suppose. You'll bail me, old +fellaa, if I have to make my bow to the beak, won't you? +Say it's becas I'm an honest woman and don't care to hide +the—a—unmentionables when I wear them—as the +t'others do," sprinkled with the dandy's famous invocations.</p> + +<p>He began to conceive romance in that sort of fun.</p> + +<p>"You're a wopper, my brave Dick! won't let any peeler +take me? by Jove!"</p> + +<p>And he with many assurances guaranteed to stand by +her, while she bent her thin fingers trying the muscle of +his arm, and reposed upon it more. There was delicacy +in her dandyism. She was a graceful cavalier.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sir Julius," as they named the dandy's attire, was frequently +called for on his evening visits to Mrs. Mount. +When he beheld Sir Julius he thought of the lady, and +"vice versaw," as Sir Julius was fond of exclaiming.</p> + +<p>Was ever hero in this fashion wooed?</p> + +<p>The woman now and then would peep through Sir +Julius. Or she would sit, and talk, and altogether forget +she was impersonating that worthy fop.</p> + +<p>She never uttered an idea or a reflection, but Richard +thought her the cleverest woman he had ever met.</p> + +<p>All kinds of problematic notions beset him. She was +cold as ice, she hated talk about love, and she was branded +by the world.</p> + +<p>A rumour spread that reached Mrs. Doria's ears. She +rushed to Adrian first. The wise youth believed there was +nothing in it. She sailed down upon Richard. "Is this +true? that you have been seen going publicly about with +an infamous woman, Richard? Tell me! pray, relieve +me!"</p> + +<p>Richard knew of no person answering to his aunt's description +in whose company he could have been seen.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, I say! Don't quibble. Do you know <i>any</i> +woman of bad character?"</p> + +<p>The acquaintance of a lady very much misjudged and +ill-used by the world, Richard admitted to.</p> + +<p>Urgent grave advice Mrs. Doria tendered her nephew, +both from the moral and the worldly point of view, mentally +ejaculating all the while: "That ridiculous System! +That disgraceful marriage!" Sir Austin in his mountain +solitude was furnished with serious stuff to brood over.</p> + +<p>The rumour came to Lady Blandish. She likewise lectured +Richard, and with her he condescended to argue. But +he found himself obliged to instance something he had +quite neglected. "Instead of her doing me harm, it's I +that will do her good."</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish shook her head and held up her finger. +"This person must be very clever to have given you that +delusion, dear."</p> + +<p>"She <i>is</i> clever. And the world treats her shamefully."</p> + +<p>"She complains of her position to you?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word. But I will stand by her. She has no +friend but me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My poor boy! has she made you think that?"</p> + +<p>"How unjust you all are!" cried Richard.</p> + +<p>"How mad and wicked is the man who can let him be +tempted so!" thought Lady Blandish.</p> + +<p>He would pronounce no promise not to visit her, not to +address her publicly. The world that condemned her and +cast her out was no better—worse for its miserable hypocrisy. +He knew the world now, the young man said.</p> + +<p>"My child! the world may be very bad. I am not going +to defend it. But you have some one else to think of. +Have you forgotten you have a wife, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"Ay! you all speak of her now. There's my aunt: +'Remember you have a wife!' Do you think I love any +one but Lucy? poor little thing! Because I am married +am I to give up the society of women?"</p> + +<p>"Of women!"</p> + +<p>"Isn't she a woman?"</p> + +<p>"Too much so!" sighed the defender of her sex.</p> + +<p>Adrian became more emphatic in his warnings. Richard +laughed at him. The wise youth sneered at Mrs. +Mount. The hero then favoured him with a warning +equal to his own in emphasis, and surpassing it in sincerity.</p> + +<p>"We won't quarrel, my dear boy," said Adrian. "I'm a +man of peace. Besides, we are not fairly proportioned for +a combat. Ride your steed to virtue's goal! All I say +is, that I think he'll upset you, and it's better to go a slow +pace and in companionship with the children of the sun. +You have a very nice little woman for a wife—well, goodbye!"</p> + +<p>To have his wife and the world thrown at his face, was +unendurable to Richard; he associated them somewhat +after the manner of the rick and the marriage. Charming +Sir Julius, always gay, always honest, dispersed his black +moods.</p> + +<p>"Why, you're taller," Richard made the discovery.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am. Don't you remember you said I was +such a little thing when I came out of my woman's shell?"</p> + +<p>"And how have you done it?"</p> + +<p>"Grown to please you."</p> + +<p>"Now, if you can do that, you can do anything."</p> + +<p>"And so I would do anything."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You would?"</p> + +<p>"Honour!"</p> + +<p>"Then" ... his project recurred to him. But the incongruity +of speaking seriously to Sir Julius struck him +dumb.</p> + +<p>"Then what?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"Then you're a gallant fellow."</p> + +<p>"That all?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it enough?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite. You were going to say something. I saw +it in your eyes."</p> + +<p>"You saw that I admired you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but a man mustn't admire a man."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I had an idea you were a woman."</p> + +<p>"What! when I had the heels of my boots raised half +an inch," Sir Julius turned one heel, and volleyed out +silver laughter.</p> + +<p>"I don't come much above your shoulder even now," +she said, and proceeded to measure her height beside him +with arch up-glances.</p> + +<p>"You must grow more."</p> + +<p>"'Fraid I can't, Dick! Bootmakers can't do it."</p> + +<p>"I'll show you how," and he lifted Sir Julius lightly, +and bore the fair gentleman to the looking-glass, holding +him there exactly on a level with his head. "Will that +do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! Oh, but I can't stay here."</p> + +<p>"Why can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Why can't I?"</p> + +<p>He should have known then—it was thundered at a +closed door in him, that he played with fire. But the +door being closed, he thought himself internally secure.</p> + +<p>Their eyes met. He put her down instantly.</p> + +<p>Sir Julius, charming as he was, lost his vogue. Seeing +that, the wily woman resumed her shell. The memory +of Sir Julius breathing about her still, doubled the feminine +attraction.</p> + +<p>"I ought to have been an actress," she said.</p> + +<p>Richard told her he found all natural women had a +similar wish.</p> + +<p>"Yes! Ah! then! if I had been!" sighed Mrs. Mount, +gazing on the pattern of the carpet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p> + +<p>He took her hand, and pressed it.</p> + +<p>"You are not happy as you are?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"May I speak to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Her nearest eye, setting a dimple of her cheek in motion, +slid to the corner toward her ear, as she sat with her +head sideways to him, listening. When he had gone, she +said to herself: "Old hypocrites talk in that way; but I +never heard of a young man doing it, and not making +love at the same time."</p> + +<p>Their next meeting displayed her quieter: subdued as +one who had been set thinking. He lauded her fair +looks. "Don't make me thrice ashamed," she petitioned.</p> + +<p>But it was not only that mood with her. Dauntless +defiance, that splendidly befitted her gallant outline and +gave a wildness to her bright bold eyes, when she would +call out: "Happy? who dares say I'm not happy? D'you +think if the world whips me I'll wince? D'you think I +care for what they say or do? Let them kill me! they +shall never get one cry out of me!" and flashing on the +young man as if he were the congregated enemy, add: +"There! now you know me!"—that was a mood that well +became her, and helped the work. She ought to have +been an actress.</p> + +<p>"This must not go on," said Lady Blandish and Mrs. +Doria in unison. A common object brought them together. +They confined their talk to it, and did not disagree. +Mrs. Doria engaged to go down to the baronet. +Both ladies knew it was a dangerous, likely to turn out +a disastrous, expedition. They agreed to it because it +was something to do, and doing anything is better than +doing nothing. "Do it," said the wise youth, when they +made him a third, "do it, if you want him to be a hermit +for life. You will bring back nothing but his dead body, +ladies—a Hellenic, rather than a Roman, triumph. He +will listen to you—he will accompany you to the station—he +will hand you into the carriage—and when you point +to his seat he will bow profoundly, and retire into his +congenial mists."</p> + +<p>Adrian spoke their thoughts. They fretted; they relapsed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Speak to him, you, Adrian," said Mrs. Doria. "Speak +to the boy solemnly. It would be almost better he should +go back to that little thing he has married."</p> + +<p>"Almost?" Lady Blandish opened her eyes. "I have +been advising it for the last month and more."</p> + +<p>"A choice of evils," said Mrs. Doria's sour-sweet face +and shake of the head.</p> + +<p>Each lady saw a point of dissension, and mutually +agreed, with heroic effort, to avoid it by shutting their +mouths. What was more, they preserved the peace in +spite of Adrian's artifices.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll talk to him again," he said. "I'll try to +get the Engine on the conventional line."</p> + +<p>"Command him!" exclaimed Mrs. Doria.</p> + +<p>"Gentle means are, I think, the only means with Richard," +said Lady Blandish.</p> + +<p>Throwing banter aside, as much as he could, Adrian +spoke to Richard. "You want to reform this woman. +Her manner is open—fair and free—the traditional characteristic. +We won't stop to canvass how that particular +honesty of deportment that wins your approbation has +been gained. In her college it is not uncommon. Girls, +you know, are not like boys. At a certain age they can't +be quite natural. It's a bad sign if they don't blush, +and fib, and affect this and that. It wears off when +they're women. But a woman who speaks like a man, +and has all those excellent virtues you admire—where has +she learned the trick? She tells you. You don't surely +approve of the school? Well, what is there in it, then? +Reform her, of course. The task is worthy of your +energies. But, if you are appointed to do it, don't do +it publicly, and don't attempt it just now. May I ask +you whether your wife participates in this undertaking?"</p> + +<p>Richard walked away from the interrogation. The wise +youth, who hated long unrelieved speeches and had healed +his conscience, said no more.</p> + +<p>Dear tender Lucy! Poor darling! Richard's eyes +moistened. Her letters seemed sadder latterly. Yet she +never called to him to come, or he would have gone. His +heart leapt up to her. He announced to Adrian that he +should wait no longer for his father. Adrian placidly +nodded.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p> + +<p>The enchantress observed that her knight had a clouded +brow and an absent voice.</p> + +<p>"Richard—I can't call you Dick now, I really don't +know why"—she said, "I want to beg a favour of you."</p> + +<p>"Name it. I can still call you Bella, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"If you care to. What I want to say is this: when you +meet me out—to cut it short—please not to recognize me."</p> + +<p>"And why?"</p> + +<p>"Do you ask to be told <i>that</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do."</p> + +<p>"Then look: I won't compromise you."</p> + +<p>"I see no harm, Bella."</p> + +<p>"No," she caressed his hand, "and there is none. I +know that. But," modest eyelids were drooped, "other +people do," struggling eyes were raised.</p> + +<p>"What do we care for other people?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I don't. Not that!" snapping her finger, +"I care for you, though." A prolonged look followed +the declaration.</p> + +<p>"You're foolish, Bella."</p> + +<p>"Not quite so giddy—that's all."</p> + +<p>He did not combat it with his usual impetuosity. +Adrian's abrupt inquiry had sunk in his mind, as the wise +youth intended it should. He had instinctively refrained +from speaking to Lucy of this lady. But what a noble +creature the woman was!</p> + +<p>So they met in the park; Mrs. Mount whipped past +him; and secrecy added a new sense to their intimacy.</p> + +<p>Adrian was gratified at the result produced by his +eloquence.</p> + +<p>Though this lady never expressed an idea, Richard was +not mistaken in her cleverness. She could make evenings +pass gaily, and one was not the fellow to the other. She +could make you forget she was a woman, and then bring +the fact startlingly home to you. She could read men +with one quiver of her half-closed eye-lashes. She could +catch the coming mood in a man, and fit herself to it. +What does a woman want with ideas, who can do thus +much? Keenness of perception, conformity, delicacy of +handling, these be all the qualities necessary to parasites.</p> + +<p>Love would have scared the youth: she banished it from +her tongue. It may also have been true that it sickened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> +her. She played on his higher nature. She understood +spontaneously what would be most strange and taking to +him in a woman. Various as the Serpent of old Nile, +she acted fallen beauty, humorous indifference, reckless +daring, arrogance in ruin. And acting thus, what think +you?—She did it so well because she was growing half +in earnest.</p> + +<p>"Richard! I am not what I was since I knew you. +You will not give me up quite?"</p> + +<p>"Never, Bella."</p> + +<p>"I am not so bad as I'm painted!"</p> + +<p>"You are only unfortunate."</p> + +<p>"Now that I know you I think so, and yet I am happier."</p> + +<p>She told him her history when this soft horizon of repentance +seemed to throw heaven's twilight across it. +A woman's history, you know: certain chapters expunged. +It was dark enough to Richard.</p> + +<p>"Did you love the man?" he asked. "You say you love +no one now."</p> + +<p>"Did I love him? He was a nobleman and I a tradesman's +daughter. No. I did not love him. I have lived +to learn it. And now I should hate him, if I did not +despise him."</p> + +<p>"Can you be deceived in love?" said Richard, more to +himself than to her.</p> + +<p>"Yes. When we're young we can be very easily deceived. +If there is such a thing as love, we discover it +after we have tossed about and roughed it. Then we find +the man, or the woman, that suits us:—and then it's too +late! we can't have him."</p> + +<p>"Singular!" murmured Richard, "she says just what +my father said."</p> + +<p>He spoke aloud: "I could forgive you if you had loved +him."</p> + +<p>"Don't be harsh, grave judge! How is a girl to distinguish?"</p> + +<p>"You had some affection for him? He was the first?"</p> + +<p>She chose to admit that. "Yes. And the first who talks +of love to a girl must be a fool if he doesn't blind +her."</p> + +<p>"That makes what is called first love nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<p>He repelled the insinuation. "Because I know it is +not, Bella."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless she had opened a wider view of the world +to him, and a colder. He thought poorly of girls. A +woman—a sensible, brave, beautiful woman seemed, on +comparison, infinitely nobler than those weak creatures.</p> + +<p>She was best in her character of lovely rebel accusing +foul injustice. "What am I to do? You tell me to be +different. How can I? What am I to do? Will virtuous +people let me earn my bread? I could not get a housemaid's +place! They wouldn't have me—I see their noses +smelling! Yes: I can go to the hospital and sing behind +a screen! Do you expect me to bury myself alive? Why, +man, I have blood: I can't become a stone. You say I +am honest, and I will be. Then let me tell you that I +have been used to luxuries, and I can't do without them. +I might have married men—lots would have had me. But +who marries one like me but a fool? and I could not +marry a fool. The man I marry I must respect. He +could not respect me—I should know him to be a fool, +and I should be worse off than I am now. As I am now, +they may look as pious as they like—I laugh at them!"</p> + +<p>And so forth: direr things. Imputations upon wives: +horrible exultation at the universal peccancy of husbands. +This lovely outcast almost made him think she had the +right on her side, so keenly her Parthian arrows pierced +the holy centres of society, and exposed its rottenness.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mount's house was discreetly conducted: nothing +ever occurred to shock him there. The young man would +ask himself where the difference was between her and the +women of society? How base, too, was the army of banded +hypocrites! He was ready to declare war against them on +her behalf. His casus belli, accurately worded, would have +read curiously. Because the world refused to lure the +lady to virtue with the offer of a housemaid's place, our +knight threw down his challenge. But the lady had scornfully +rebutted this prospect of a return to chastity. Then +the form of the challenge must be: Because the world +declined to support the lady in luxury for nothing! But +what did that mean? In other words: she was to receive +the devil's wages without rendering him her services. +Such an arrangement appears hardly fair on the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> +or on the devil. Heroes will have to conquer both before +they will get them to subscribe to it.</p> + +<p>Heroes, however, are not in the habit of wording their +declarations of war at all. Lance in rest they challenge +and they charge. Like women they trust to instinct, and +graft on it the muscle of men. Wide fly the leisurely-remonstrating +hosts: institutions are scattered, they know +not wherefore, heads are broken that have not the balm +of a reason why. 'Tis instinct strikes! Surely there is +something divine in instinct.</p> + +<p>Still, war declared, where were these hosts? The hero +could not charge down on the ladies and gentlemen in a +ballroom, and spoil the quadrille. He had sufficient reticence +to avoid sounding his challenge in the Law Courts; +nor could he well go into the Houses of Parliament with +a trumpet, though to come to a tussle with the nation's +direct representatives did seem the likelier method. It +was likewise out of the question that he should enter +every house and shop, and battle with its master in the +cause of Mrs. Mount. Where, then, was his enemy? +Everybody was his enemy, and everybody was nowhere. +Shall he convoke multitudes on Wimbledon Common? +Blue Policemen, and a distant dread of ridicule, bar all +his projects. Alas for the hero in our day!</p> + +<p>Nothing teaches a strong arm its impotence so much as +knocking at empty air.</p> + +<p>"What can I do for this poor woman?" cried Richard, +after fighting his phantom enemy till he was worn out.</p> + +<p>"O Rip! old Rip!" he addressed his friend, "I'm distracted. +I wish I was dead! What good am I for? Miserable! +selfish! What have I done but make every soul +I know wretched about me? I follow my own inclinations—I +make people help me by lying as hard as they +can—and I'm a liar. And when I've got it I'm ashamed +of myself. And now when I do see something unselfish +for me to do, I come upon grins—I don't know where to +turn—how to act—and I laugh at myself like a devil!"</p> + +<p>It was only friend Ripton's ear that was required, so +his words went for little: but Ripton did say he thought +there was small matter to be ashamed of in winning and +wearing the Beauty of Earth. Richard added his customary +comment of "Poor little thing!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p> + +<p>He fought his duello with empty air till he was exhausted. +A last letter written to his father procured him +no reply. Then, said he, I have tried my utmost. I have +tried to be dutiful—my father won't listen to me. One +thing I can do—I can go down to my dear girl, and make +her happy, and save her at least from some of the consequences +of my rashness.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing better for me!" he groaned. His great +ambition must be covered by a house-top: he and the cat +must warm themselves on the domestic hearth! The hero +was not aware that his heart moved him to this. His +heart was not now in open communion with his mind.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mount heard that her friend was going—would go. +She knew he was going to his wife. Far from discouraging +him, she said nobly: "Go—I believe I have kept you. +Let us have an evening together, and then go: for good, +if you like. If not, then to meet again another time. +Forget me. I shan't forget you. You're the best fellow +I ever knew, Richard. You are, on my honour! I swear +I would not step in between you and your wife to cause +either of you a moment's unhappiness. When I can be +another woman I will, and I shall think of you then."</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish heard from Adrian that Richard was +positively going to his wife. The wise youth modestly +veiled his own merit in bringing it about by saying: "I +couldn't see that poor little woman left alone down there +any longer."</p> + +<p>"Well! Yes!" said Mrs. Doria, to whom the modest +speech was repeated, "I suppose, poor boy, it's the best +he can do now."</p> + +<p>Richard bade them adieu, and went to spend his last +evening with Mrs. Mount.</p> + +<p>The enchantress received him in state.</p> + +<p>"Do you know this dress? No? It's the dress I wore +when I first met you—not when I first saw you. I think +I remarked you, sir, before you deigned to cast an eye +upon humble me. When we first met we drank champagne +together, and I intend to celebrate our parting in the +same liquor. Will you liquor with me, old boy?"</p> + +<p>She was gay. She revived Sir Julius occasionally. He, +dispirited, left the talking all to her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mount kept a footman. At a late hour the man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> +of calves dressed the table for supper. It was a point of +honour for Richard to sit down to it and try to eat. +Drinking, thanks to the kindly mother nature, who loves +to see her children made fools of, is always an easier +matter. The footman was diligent; the champagne corks +feebly recalled the file-firing at Richmond.</p> + +<p>"We'll drink to what we might have been, Dick," said +the enchantress.</p> + +<p>Oh, the glorious wreck she looked.</p> + +<p>His heart choked as he gulped the buzzing wine.</p> + +<p>"What! down, my boy?" she cried. "They shall never +see me hoist signals of distress. We must all die, and the +secret of the thing is to die game, by Jove! Did you ever +hear of Laura Fenn? a superb girl! handsomer than your +humble servant—if you'll believe it—a 'Miss' in the bargain, +and as a consequence, I suppose, a much greater +rake. She was in the hunting-field. Her horse threw +her, and she fell plump on a stake. It went into her left +breast. All the fellows crowded round her, and one young +man, who was in love with her—he sits in the House of +Peers now—we used to call him 'Duck' because he was +such a dear—he dropped from his horse to his knees: +'Laura! Laura! my darling! speak a word to me!—the +last!' She turned over all white and bloody! 'I—I shan't +be in at the death!' and gave up the ghost! Wasn't that +dying game? Here's to the example of Laura Fenn! +Why, what's the matter? See! it makes a man turn +pale to hear how a woman can die. Fill the glasses, +John. Why, you're as bad!"</p> + +<p>"It's give me a turn, my lady," pleaded John, and the +man's hand was unsteady as he poured out the wine.</p> + +<p>"You ought not to listen. Go, and drink some brandy."</p> + +<p>John footman went from the room.</p> + +<p>"My brave Dick! Richard! what a face you've got!"</p> + +<p>He showed a deep frown on a colourless face.</p> + +<p>"Can't you bear to hear of blood? You know, it was +only one naughty woman out of the world. The clergyman +of the parish didn't refuse to give her decent burial. +We are Christians! Hurrah!"</p> + +<p>She cheered, and laughed. A lurid splendour glanced +about her like lights from the pit.</p> + +<p>"Pledge me, Dick! Drink, and recover yourself. Who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> +minds? We must all die—the good and the bad. Ashes +to ashes—dust to dust—and wine for living lips! That's +poetry—almost. Sentiment: 'May we never say die till +we've drunk our fill!' Not bad—eh? A little vulgar, +perhaps, by Jove! Do you think me horrid?"</p> + +<p>"Where's the wine?" Richard shouted. He drank a +couple of glasses in succession, and stared about. Was +he in hell, with a lost soul raving to him?</p> + +<p>"Nobly spoken! and nobly acted upon, my brave Dick! +Now we'll be companions. 'She wished that heaven had +made her such a man.' Ah, Dick! Dick! too late! too +late!"</p> + +<p>Softly fell her voice. Her eyes threw slanting beams.</p> + +<p>"Do you see this?"</p> + +<p>She pointed to a symbolic golden anchor studded with +gems and coiled with a rope of hair in her bosom. It was +a gift of his.</p> + +<p>"Do you know when I stole the lock? Foolish Dick! +you gave me an anchor without a rope. Come and see."</p> + +<p>She rose from the table, and threw herself on the sofa.</p> + +<p>"Don't you recognize your own hair! I should know +a thread of mine among a million."</p> + +<p>Something of the strength of Samson went out of him +as he inspected his hair on the bosom of Delilah.</p> + +<p>"And you knew nothing of it! You hardly know it +now you see it! What couldn't a woman steal from you? +But you're not vain, and that's a protection. You're a +miracle, Dick: a man that's not vain! Sit here." She +curled up her feet to give him place on the sofa. "Now +let us talk like friends that part to meet no more. You +found a ship with fever on board, and you weren't afraid +to come alongside and keep her company. The fever isn't +catching, you see. Let us mingle our tears together. Ha! +ha! a man said that once to me. The hypocrite wanted +to catch the fever, but he was too old. How old are you, +Dick?"</p> + +<p>Richard pushed a few months forward.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-one? You just look it, you blooming boy. +Now tell me my age, Adonis!—Twenty—<i>what</i>?"</p> + +<p>Richard had given the lady twenty-five years.</p> + +<p>She laughed violently. "You don't pay compliments, +Dick. Best to be honest; guess again. You don't like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> +to? Not twenty-five, or twenty-four, or twenty-three, or—see +how he begins to start!—twenty-two. Just twenty-one, +my dear. I think, my birthday's somewhere in next month. +Why, look at me, close—closer. Have I a wrinkle?"</p> + +<p>"And when, in heaven's name!" ... he stopped short.</p> + +<p>"I understand you. When did I commence for to live? +At the ripe age of sixteen I saw a nobleman in despair +because of my beauty. He vowed he'd die. I didn't +want him to do that. So to save the poor man for his +family, I ran away with him, and I dare say they didn't +appreciate the sacrifice, and he soon forgot to, if he +ever did. It's the way of the world!"</p> + +<p>Richard seized some dead champagne, emptied the +bottle into a tumbler, and drank it off.</p> + +<p>John footman entered to clear the table, and they +were left without further interruption.</p> + +<p>"Bella! Bella!" Richard uttered in a deep sad voice, +as he walked the room.</p> + +<p>She leaned on her arm, her hair crushed against a +reddened cheek, her eyes half-shut and dreamy.</p> + +<p>"Bella!" he dropped beside her. "You are unhappy."</p> + +<p>She blinked and yawned, as one who is awakened suddenly. +"I think you spoke," said she.</p> + +<p>"You are unhappy, Bella. You can't conceal it. Your +laugh sounds like madness. You must be unhappy. So +young, too! Only twenty-one!"</p> + +<p>"What does it matter? Who cares for me?"</p> + +<p>The mighty pity falling from his eyes took in her +whole shape. She did not mistake it for tenderness, as +another would have done.</p> + +<p>"Who cares for you, Bella? I do. What makes my +misery now, but to see you there, and know of no way +of helping you? Father of mercy! it seems too much to +have to stand by powerless while such ruin is going on!"</p> + +<p>Her hand was shaken in his by the passion of torment +with which his frame quaked.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily a tear started between her eyelids. She +glanced up at him quickly, then looked down, drew her +hand from his, and smoothed it, eying it.</p> + +<p>"Bella! you have a father alive!"</p> + +<p>"A linen draper, dear. He wears a white neck-cloth."</p> + +<p>This article of apparel instantaneously changed the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> +tone of the conversation, for he, rising abruptly, nearly +squashed the lady's lap-dog, whose squeaks and howls were +piteous, and demanded the most fervent caresses of its +mistress. It was: "Oh, my poor pet Mumpsy, and he +didn't like a nasty great big ugly heavy foot on his poor +soft silky—mum—mum—back, he didn't, and he soodn't +that he—mum—mum—soodn't; and he cried out and +knew the place to come to, and was oh so sorry for what +had happened to him—mum—mum—mum—and now he +was going to be made happy, his mistress make him +happy—mum—mum—mum—moo-o-o-o."</p> + +<p>"Yes!" said Richard, savagely, from the other end of +the room, "you care for the happiness of your dog."</p> + +<p>"A course se does," Mumpsy was simperingly assured +in the thick of his silky flanks.</p> + +<p>Richard looked for his hat. Mumpsy was deposited +on the sofa in a twinkling.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the lady, "you must come and beg Mumpsy's +pardon, whether you meant to do it or no, because little +doggies can't tell that—how should they? And there's +poor Mumpsy thinking you're a great terrible rival that +tries to squash him all flat to nothing, on purpose, pretending +you didn't see; and he's trembling, poor dear +wee pet! And I may love my dog, sir, if I like; and I +do; and I won't have him ill-treated, for he's never been +jealous of you, and he is a darling, ten times truer than +men, and I love him fifty times better. So come to him +with me."</p> + +<p>First a smile changed Richard's face; then laughing +a melancholy laugh, he surrendered to her humour, and +went through the form of begging Mumpsy's pardon.</p> + +<p>"The dear dog! I do believe he saw we were getting +dull," said she.</p> + +<p>"And immolated himself intentionally? Noble animal!"</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll act as if we thought so. Let us be gay, +Richard, and not part like ancient fogies. Where's your +fun? You can rattle; why don't you? You haven't seen +me in one of my characters—not Sir Julius: wait a couple +of minutes." She ran out.</p> + +<p>A white visage reappeared behind a spring of flame. +Her black hair was scattered over her shoulders and fell +half across her brows. She moved slowly, and came up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> +to him, fastening weird eyes on him, pointing a finger +at the region of witches. Sepulchral cadences accompanied +the representation. He did not listen, for he +was thinking what a deadly charming and exquisitely +horrid witch she was. Something in the way her underlids +worked seemed to remind him of a forgotten picture; +but a veil hung on the picture. There could be no +analogy, for this was beautiful and devilish, and that, +if he remembered rightly, had the beauty of seraphs.</p> + +<p>His reflections and her performance were stayed by a +shriek. The spirits of wine had run over the plate she +held to the floor. She had the coolness to put the plate +down on the table, while he stamped out the flame on +the carpet. Again she shrieked: she thought she was on +fire. He fell on his knees and clasped her skirts all +round, drawing his arms down them several times.</p> + +<p>Still kneeling, he looked up, and asked, "Do you feel +safe now?"</p> + +<p>She bent her face glaring down till the ends of her hair +touched his cheek.</p> + +<p>Said she, "Do you?"</p> + +<p>Was she a witch verily? There was sorcery in her +breath; sorcery in her hair: the ends of it stung him like +little snakes.</p> + +<p>"How do I do it, Dick?" she flung back, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Like you do everything, Bella," he said, and took a +breath.</p> + +<p>"There! I won't be a witch; I won't be a witch: they +may burn me to a cinder, but I won't be a witch!"</p> + +<p>She sang, throwing her hair about, and stamping her +feet.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I look a figure. I must go and tidy myself."</p> + +<p>"No, don't change. I like to see you so." He gazed +at her with a mixture of wonder and admiration. "I +can't think you the same person—not even when you +laugh."</p> + +<p>"Richard," her tone was serious, "you were going to +speak to me of my parents."</p> + +<p>"How wild and awful you looked, Bella!"</p> + +<p>"My father, Richard, was a very respectable man."</p> + +<p>"Bella, you'll haunt me like a ghost."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My mother died in my infancy, Richard."</p> + +<p>"Don't put up your hair, Bella."</p> + +<p>"I was an only child!"</p> + +<p>Her head shook sorrowfully at the glistening fire-irons. +He followed the abstracted intentness of her look, and +came upon her words.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes! speak of your father, Bella. Speak of him."</p> + +<p>"Shall I haunt you, and come to your bedside, and cry, +''Tis time'?"</p> + +<p>"Dear Bella! if you will tell me where he lives, I will +go to him. He shall receive you. He shall not refuse—he +shall forgive you."</p> + +<p>"If I haunt you, you can't forget me, Richard."</p> + +<p>"Let me go to your father, Bella—let me go to him +to-morrow. I'll give you my time. It's all I can give. O +Bella! let me save you."</p> + +<p>"So you like me best dishevelled, do you, you naughty +boy! Ha! ha!" and away she burst from him, and up +flew her hair, as she danced across the room, and fell at +full length on the sofa.</p> + +<p>He felt giddy: bewitched.</p> + +<p>"We'll talk of everyday things, Dick," she called to him +from the sofa. "It's our last evening. Our last? Heigho! +It makes me sentimental. How's that Mr. Ripson, Pipson, +Nipson?—it's not complimentary, but I can't remember +names of that sort. Why do you have friends of +that sort? He's not a gentleman. Better is he? Well, +he's rather <i>too</i> insignificant for me. Why do you sit +off there? Come to me instantly. There—I'll sit up, and +be proper, and you'll have plenty of room. Talk, Dick!"</p> + +<p>He was reflecting on the fact that her eyes were brown. +They had a haughty sparkle when she pleased, and when +she pleased a soft languor circled them. Excitement had +dyed her cheeks deep red. He was a youth, and she an +enchantress. He a hero; she a female will-o'-the-wisp.</p> + +<p>The eyes were languid now, set in rosy colour.</p> + +<p>"You will not leave me yet, Richard? not yet?"</p> + +<p>He had no thought of departing.</p> + +<p>"It's our last night—I suppose it's our last hour together +in this world—and I don't want to meet you in +the next, for poor Dick will have to come to such a very, +very disagreeable place to make the visit."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span></p> + +<p>He grasped her hand at this.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he will! too true! can't be helped: they say I'm +handsome."</p> + +<p>"You're lovely, Bella."</p> + +<p>She drank in his homage.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll admit it. His Highness below likes lovely +women, I hear say. A gentleman of taste! You don't +know all my accomplishments yet, Richard."</p> + +<p>"I shan't be astonished at anything new, Bella."</p> + +<p>"Then hear, and wonder." Her voice trolled out some +lively roulades. "Don't you think he'll make me his +prima donna below? It's nonsense to tell me there's no +singing there. And the atmosphere will be favourable +to the voice. No <i>damp</i>, you know. You saw the piano—why +didn't you ask me to sing before? I can sing +Italian. I had a master—who made love to me. I forgave +him because of the music-stool—men can't help it +on a music-stool, poor dears!"</p> + +<p>She went to the piano, struck the notes, and sang—</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'My heart, my heart—I think 'twill break.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>"Because I'm such a rake. I don't know any other +reason. No; I hate sentimental songs. Won't sing that. +Ta-tiddy-tiddy-iddy—a ... e! How ridiculous those +women were, coming home from Richmond!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Once the sweet romance of story<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Clad thy moving form with grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once the world and all its glory<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was but framework to thy face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, too fair!—what I remember,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Might my soul recall—but no!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the winds this wretched ember<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of a fire that falls so low!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Hum! don't much like that. Tum-te-tum-tum—accanto +al fuoco—heigho! I don't want to show off, Dick—or +to break down—so I won't try that.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Oh! but for thee, oh! but for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I might have been a happy wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nursed a baby on my knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And never blushed to give it life.'<br /></span> +</div></div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> + +<p>"I used to sing that when I was a girl, sweet Richard, +and didn't know at all, at all, what it meant. Mustn't +sing that sort of song in company. We're oh! so proper—even +we!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'If I had a husband, what think you I'd do?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'd make it my business to keep him a lover;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when a young gentleman ceases to woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Some other amusement he'll quickly discover.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"For such are young gentlemen made of—made of: +such are young gentlemen made of!"</p> + +<p>After this trifling she sang a Spanish ballad sweetly. +He was in the mood when imagination intensely vivifies +everything. Mere suggestion of music sufficed. The lady +in the ballad had been wronged. Lo! it was the lady +before him; and soft horns blew; he smelt the languid +night-flowers; he saw the stars crowd large and close +above the arid plain: this lady leaning at her window +desolate, pouring out her abandoned heart.</p> + +<p>Heroes know little what they owe to champagne.</p> + +<p>The lady wandered to Venice. Thither he followed her +at a leap. In Venice she was not happy. He was prepared +for the misery of any woman anywhere. But, oh! +to be with her! To glide with phantom-motion through +throbbing street; past houses muffled in shadow and +gloomy legends; under storied bridges; past palaces +charged with full life in dead quietness; past grand old +towers, colossal squares, gleaming quays, and out, and on +with her, on into the silver infinity shaking over seas!</p> + +<p>Was it the champagne? the music? or the poetry? +Something of the two former, perhaps: but most the +enchantress playing upon him. How many instruments +cannot clever women play upon at the same moment! +And this enchantress was not too clever, or he might +have felt her touch. She was no longer absolutely bent +on winning him, or he might have seen a man[oe]uvre. +She liked him—liked none better. She wished him well. +Her pique was satisfied. Still he was handsome, and +he was going. What she liked him for, she rather—very +slightly—wished to do away with, or see if it could be +done away with: just as one wishes to catch a pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> +butterfly, without hurting its patterned wings. No harm +intended to the innocent insect, only one wants to inspect +it thoroughly, and enjoy the marvel of it, in one's tender +possession, and have the felicity of thinking one could +crush it, if one would.</p> + +<p>He knew her what she was, this lady. In Seville, or in +Venice, the spot was on her. Sailing the pathways of +the moon it was not celestial light that illumined her +beauty. Her sin was there: but in dreaming to save, he +was soft to her sin—drowned it in deep mournfulness.</p> + +<p>Silence, and the rustle of her dress, awoke him from his +musing. She swam wave-like to the sofa. She was at his +feet.</p> + +<p>"I have been light and careless to-night, Richard. Of +course I meant it. I <i>must</i> be happy with my best friend +going to leave me."</p> + +<p>Those witch underlids were working brightly.</p> + +<p>"You will not forget me? and I shall try ... try...."</p> + +<p>Her lips twitched. She thought him such a very handsome +fellow.</p> + +<p>"If I change—if I can change.... Oh! if you could +know what a net I'm in, Richard!"</p> + +<p>Now at those words, as he looked down on her haggard +loveliness, not divine sorrow but a devouring jealousy +sprang like fire to his breast, and set him rocking with +horrid pain. He bent closer to her pale beseeching face. +Her eyes still drew him down.</p> + +<p>"Bella! No! no! promise me! swear it!"</p> + +<p>"Lost, Richard! lost for ever! give me up!"</p> + +<p>He cried: "I never will!" and strained her in his arms, +and kissed her passionately on the lips.</p> + +<p>She was not acting now as she sidled and slunk her +half-averted head with a kind of maiden shame under +his arm, sighing heavily, weeping, clinging to him. It +was wicked truth.</p> + +<p>Not a word of love between them!</p> + +<p>Was ever hero in this fashion won?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> + +<h3>THE LITTLE BIRD AND THE FALCON; A BERRY TO +THE RESCUE!</h3> + + +<p>At a season when the pleasant South-western Island has +few attractions to other than invalids and hermits enamoured +of wind and rain, the potent nobleman, Lord +Mountfalcon, still lingered there to the disgust of his +friends and special parasite. "Mount's in for it again," +they said among themselves. "Hang the women!" was +a natural sequence. For, don't you see, what a shame +it was of the women to be always kindling such a very +inflammable subject! All understood that Cupid had +twanged his bow, and transfixed a peer of Britain for +the fiftieth time: but none would perceive, though he +vouched for it with his most eloquent oaths, that this +was a totally different case from the antecedent ones. +So it had been sworn to them too frequently before. +He was as a man with mighty tidings, and no language: +intensely communicative, but inarticulate. Good round +oaths had formerly compassed and expounded his noble +emotions. They were now quite beyond the comprehension +of blasphemy, even when emphasized, and by this +the poor lord divinely felt the case was different. There +is something impressive in a great human hulk writhing +under the unutterable torments of a mastery he cannot +contend with, or account for, or explain by means +of intelligible words. At first he took refuge in the +depths of his contempt for women. Cupid gave him +line. When he had come to vent his worst of them, the +fair face now stamped on his brain beamed the more +triumphantly: so the harpooned whale rose to the surface, +and after a few convulsions, surrendered his huge +length. My lord was in love with Richard's young wife. +He gave proofs of it by burying himself beside her. To +her, could she have seen it, he gave further proofs of a +real devotion, in affecting, and in her presence feeling, +nothing beyond a lively interest in her well-being. This +wonder, that when near her he should be cool and composed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> +and when away from her wrapped in a tempest of +desires, was matter for what powers of cogitation the +heavy nobleman possessed.</p> + +<p>The Hon. Peter, tired of his journeys to and fro, urged +him to press the business. Lord Mountfalcon was wiser, +or more scrupulous, than his parasite. Almost every +evening he saw Lucy. The inexperienced little wife +apprehended no harm in his visits. Moreover, Richard +had commended her to the care of Lord Mountfalcon, +and Lady Judith. Lady Judith had left the Island for +London: Lord Mountfalcon remained. There could be +no harm. If she had ever thought so, she no longer did. +Secretly, perhaps, she was flattered. Lord Mountfalcon +was as well educated as it is the fortune of the run of +titled elder sons to be: he could talk and instruct: he was +a lord: and he let her understand that he was wicked, +very wicked, and that she improved him. The heroine, in +common with the hero, has her ambition to be of use in +the world—to do some good; and the task of reclaiming +a bad man is extremely seductive to good women. Dear +to their tender bosoms as old china is a bad man they are +mending! Lord Mountfalcon had none of the arts of a +libertine: his gold, his title, and his person had hitherto +preserved him from having long to sigh in vain, or sigh +at all, possibly: the Hon. Peter did his villainies for him. +No alarm was given to Lucy's pure instinct, as might +have been the case had my lord been over-adept. It was +nice in her martyrdom to have a true friend to support +her, and really to be able to do something for that friend. +Too simple-minded to think much of his lordship's position, +she was yet a woman. "He, a great nobleman, does +not scorn to acknowledge me, and think something of me," +may have been one of the half-thoughts passing through +her now and then, as she reflected in self-defence on the +proud family she had married into.</p> + +<p>January was watering and freezing old earth by turns, +when the Hon. Peter travelled down to the sun of his +purse with great news. He had no sooner broached his +lordship's immediate weakness, than Mountfalcon began +to plunge like a heavy dragoon in difficulties. He swore +by this and that he had come across an angel for his sins, +and would do her no hurt. The next moment he swore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> +she must be his, though she cursed like a cat. His lordship's +illustrations were not choice. "I haven't advanced +an inch," he groaned. "Brayder! upon my soul, that little +woman could do anything with me. By heaven! I'd marry +her to-morrow. Here I am, seeing her every day in the +week out or in, and what do you think she gets me to +talk about?—history! Isn't it enough to make a fellow +mad? and there am I lecturing like a prig, and by heaven! +while I'm at it I feel a pleasure in it; and when I leave +the house I should feel an immense gratification in shooting +somebody. What do they say in town?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," said Brayder, significantly.</p> + +<p>"When's that fellow—her husband—coming down?"</p> + +<p>"I rather hope we've settled him for life, Mount."</p> + +<p>Nobleman and parasite exchanged looks.</p> + +<p>"How d'ye mean?"</p> + +<p>Brayder hummed an air, and broke it to say, "He's in +for Don Juan at a gallop, that's all."</p> + +<p>"The deuce! Has Bella got him?" Mountfalcon asked +with eagerness.</p> + +<p>Brayder handed my lord a letter. It was dated from +the Sussex coast, signed "Richard," and was worded thus:</p> + +<p>"My beautiful Devil!—</p> + +<p>"Since we're both devils together, and have found each +other out, come to me at once, or I shall be going somewhere +in a hurry. Come, my bright hell-star! I ran +away from you, and now I ask you to come to me! You +have taught me how devils love, and I can't do without +you. Come an hour after you receive this."</p> + +<p>Mountfalcon turned over the letter to see if there was +any more. "Complimentary love-epistle!" he remarked, +and rising from his chair and striding about, muttered, +"The dog! how infamously he treats his wife!"</p> + +<p>"Very bad," said Brayder.</p> + +<p>"How did you get hold of this?"</p> + +<p>"Strolled into Bella's dressing-room, waiting for her—turned +over her pincushion haphazard. You know her +trick."</p> + +<p>"By Jove! I think that girl does it on purpose. Thank +heaven, I haven't written her any letters for an age. Is +she going to him!"</p> + +<p>"Not she! But it's odd, Mount!—did you ever know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> +her refuse money before? She tore up the cheque in style, +and presented me the fragments with two or three of the +delicacies of language she learnt at your Academy. I +rather like to hear a woman swear. It embellishes her!"</p> + +<p>Mountfalcon took counsel of his parasite as to the end +the letter could be made to serve. Both conscientiously +agreed that Richard's behaviour to his wife was infamous, +and that he at least deserved no mercy. "But," said his +lordship, "it won't do to show the letter. At first she'll +be swearing it's false, and then she'll stick to him closer. +I know the sluts."</p> + +<p>"The rule of contrary," said Brayder, carelessly. "She +must see the trahison with her eyes. They believe their +eyes. There's your chance, Mount. You step in: you give +her revenge and consolation—two birds at one shot. +That's what they like."</p> + +<p>"You're an ass, Brayder," the nobleman exclaimed. +"You're an infernal blackguard. You talk of this little +woman as if she and other women were all of a piece. I +don't see anything I gain by this confounded letter. Her +husband's a brute—that's clear."</p> + +<p>"Will you leave it to me, Mount?"</p> + +<p>"Be damned before I do!" muttered my lord.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Now see how this will end. You're too +soft, Mount. You'll be made a fool of."</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Brayder, there's nothing to be done. If I +carry her off—I've been on the point of doing it every day—what'll +come of that? She'll look—I can't stand her +eyes—I shall be a fool—worse off with her than I am +now."</p> + +<p>Mountfalcon yawned despondently. "And what do you +think?" he pursued. "Isn't it enough to make a fellow +gnash his teeth? She's" ... he mentioned something +in an underbreath, and turned red as he said it.</p> + +<p>"Hm!" Brayder put up his mouth and rapped the +handle of his cane on his chin. "That's disagreeable, +Mount. You don't exactly want to act in that character. +You haven't got a diploma. Bother!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think I love her a bit less?" broke out my +lord in a frenzy. "By heaven! I'd read to her by her +bedside, and talk that infernal history to her, if it pleased +her, all day and all night."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're evidently graduating for a midwife, Mount."</p> + +<p>The nobleman appeared silently to accept the imputation.</p> + +<p>"What do they say in town?" he asked again.</p> + +<p>Brayder said the sole question was, whether it was +maid, wife, or widow.</p> + +<p>"I'll go to her this evening," Mountfalcon resumed, +after—to judge by the cast of his face—reflecting deeply. +"I'll go to her this evening. She shall know what infernal +torment she makes me suffer."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say she don't know it?"</p> + +<p>"Hasn't an idea—thinks me a friend. And so, by +heaven! I'll be to her."</p> + +<p>"A—hm!" went the Honourable Peter. "This way to +the sign of the Green Man, ladies!"</p> + +<p>"Do you want to be pitched out of the window, +Brayder?"</p> + +<p>"Once was enough, Mount. The Salvage Man is strong. +I may have forgotten the trick of alighting on my feet. +There—there! I'll be sworn she's excessively innocent, +and thinks you a disinterested friend."</p> + +<p>"I'll go to her this evening," Mountfalcon repeated. +"She shall know what damned misery it is to see her in +such a position. I can't hold out any longer. Deceit's +horrible to such a girl as that. I'd rather have her cursing +me than speaking and looking as she does. Dear little +girl!—she's only a child. You haven't an idea how sensible +that little woman is."</p> + +<p>"Have you?" inquired the cunning one.</p> + +<p>"My belief is, Brayder, that there are angels among +women," said Mountfalcon, evading his parasite's eye as +he spoke.</p> + +<p>To the world, Lord Mountfalcon was the thoroughly +wicked man; his parasite simply ingeniously dissipated. +Full many a man of God had thought it the easier task to +reclaim the Hon. Peter.</p> + +<p>Lucy received her noble friend by firelight that evening, +and sat much in the shade. She offered to have the candles +brought in. He begged her to allow the room to +remain as it was. "I have something to say to you," he +observed with a certain solemnity.</p> + +<p>"Yes—to me?" said Lucy, quickly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lord Mountfalcon knew he had a great deal to say, but +how to say it, and what it exactly was, he did not know.</p> + +<p>"You conceal it admirably," he began, "but you must +be very lonely here—I fear, unhappy."</p> + +<p>"I should have been lonely, but for your kindness, my +lord," said Lucy. "I am not unhappy." Her face was in +shade and could not belie her.</p> + +<p>"Is there any help that one who would really be your +friend might give you, Mrs. Feverel?"</p> + +<p>"None indeed that I know of," Lucy replied. "Who +can help us to pay for our sins?"</p> + +<p>"At least you may permit me to endeavour to pay my +debts, since you have helped me to wash out some of <i>my</i> +sins."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my lord!" said Lucy, not displeased. It is sweet +for a woman to believe she has drawn the serpent's teeth.</p> + +<p>"I tell you the truth," Lord Mountfalcon went on. +"What object could I have in deceiving you? I know you +quite above flattery—so different from other women!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, pray, do not say that," interposed Lucy.</p> + +<p>"According to my experience, then."</p> + +<p>"But you say you have met such—such very bad +women."</p> + +<p>"I have. And now that I meet a good one, it is my +misfortune."</p> + +<p>"Your misfortune, Lord Mountfalcon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I might say more."</p> + +<p>His lordship held impressively mute.</p> + +<p>"How strange men are!" thought Lucy. "He has some +unhappy secret."</p> + +<p>Tom Bakewell, who had a habit of coming into the room +on various pretences during the nobleman's visits, put a +stop to the revelation, if his lordship intended to make +any.</p> + +<p>When they were alone again, Lucy said, smiling: "Do +you know, I am always ashamed to ask you to begin to +read."</p> + +<p>Mountfalcon stared. "To read?—oh! ha! yes!" he remembered +his evening duties. "Very happy, I'm sure. +Let me see. Where were we?"</p> + +<p>"The life of the Emperor Julian. But indeed I feel +quite ashamed to ask you to read, my lord. It's new to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> +me; like a new world—hearing about Emperors, and +armies, and things that really have been on the earth we +walk upon. It fills my mind. But it must have ceased +to interest you, and I was thinking that I would not tease +you any more."</p> + +<p>"Your pleasure is mine, Mrs. Feverel. 'Pon my honour, +I'd read till I was hoarse, to hear your remarks."</p> + +<p>"Are you laughing at me?"</p> + +<p>"Do I look so?"</p> + +<p>Lord Mountfalcon had fine full eyes, and by merely +dropping the lids he could appear to endow them with +mental expression.</p> + +<p>"No, you are not," said Lucy. "I must thank you for +your forbearance."</p> + +<p>The nobleman went on his honour loudly.</p> + +<p>Now it was an object of Lucy's to have him reading; +for his sake, for her sake, and for somebody else's sake; +which somebody else was probably considered first in the +matter. When he was reading to her, he seemed to be +legitimizing his presence there; and though she had no +doubts or suspicions whatever, she was easier in her heart +while she had him employed in that office. So she rose +to fetch the book, laid it open on the table at his lordship's +elbow, and quietly waited to ring for candles when he +should be willing to commence.</p> + +<p>That evening Lord Mountfalcon could not get himself +up to the farce, and he felt a pity for the strangely innocent +unprotected child with anguish hanging over her, +that withheld the words he wanted to speak, or insinuate. +He sat silent and did nothing.</p> + +<p>"What I do not like him for," said Lucy, meditatively, +"is his changing his religion. He would have been such +a hero, but for that. I could have loved him."</p> + +<p>"Who is it you could have loved, Mrs. Feverel?" Lord +Mountfalcon asked.</p> + +<p>"The Emperor Julian."</p> + +<p>"Oh! the Emperor Julian! Well, he was an apostate: +but then, you know, he meant what he was about. He +didn't even do it for a woman."</p> + +<p>"For a woman!" cried Lucy. "What man would for a +woman?"</p> + +<p>"I would."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You, Lord Mountfalcon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'd turn Catholic to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"You make me very unhappy if you say that, my lord."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll unsay it."</p> + +<p>Lucy slightly shuddered. She put her hand upon the +bell to ring for lights.</p> + +<p>"Do you reject a convert, Mrs. Feverel?" said the nobleman.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! yes! I do. One who does not give his conscience +I would not have."</p> + +<p>"If he gives his heart and body, can he give more?"</p> + +<p>Lucy's hand pressed the bell. She did not like the +doubtful light with one who was so unscrupulous. Lord +Mountfalcon had never spoken in this way before. He +spoke better, too. She missed the aristocratic twang in his +voice, and the hesitation for words, and the fluid lordliness +with which he rolled over difficulties in speech.</p> + +<p>Simultaneously with the sounding of the bell the door +opened, and presented Tom Bakewell. There was a double +knock at the same instant at the street door. Lucy delayed +to give orders.</p> + +<p>"Can it be a letter, Tom?—so late?" she said, changing +colour. "Pray run and see."</p> + +<p>"That an't a powst," Tom remarked, as he obeyed his +mistress.</p> + +<p>"Are you very anxious for a letter, Mrs. Feverel?" Lord +Mountfalcon inquired.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—yes, I am, very!" said Lucy. Her quick ear +caught the tones of a voice she remembered. "That dear +old thing has come to see me," she cried, starting up.</p> + +<p>Tom ushered a bunch of black satin into the room.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Berry!" said Lucy, running up to her and kissing +her.</p> + +<p>"Me, my darlin'!" Mrs. Berry, breathless and rosy with +her journey, returned the salute. "Me truly it is, in fault +of a better, for I ain't one to stand by and give the devil +his licence—roamin'! and the salt sure enough have spilte +my bride-gown at the beginnin', which ain't the best sign. +Bless ye!—Oh, here he is." She beheld a male figure in a +chair by the half light, and swung round to address him. +"You bad man!" she held aloft one of her fat fingers, +"I've come on ye like a bolt, I have, and goin' to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> +ye do your duty, naughty boy! But you're my darlin' +babe," she melted, as was her custom, "and I'll never meet +you and not give to ye the kiss of a mother."</p> + +<p>Before Lord Mountfalcon could find time to expostulate +the soft woman had him by the neck, and was down among +his luxurious whiskers.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" She gave a smothered shriek, and fell back. +"What hair's that?"</p> + +<p>Tom Bakewell just then illumined the transaction.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my gracious!" Mrs. Berry breathed with horror, +"I been and kiss a strange man!"</p> + +<p>Lucy, half-laughing, but in dreadful concern, begged the +noble lord to excuse the woful mistake.</p> + +<p>"Extremely flattered, highly favoured, I'm sure," said +his lordship, re-arranging his disconcerted moustache; +"may I beg the pleasure of an introduction?"</p> + +<p>"My husband's dear old nurse—Mrs. Berry," said Lucy, +taking her hand to lend her countenance. "Lord Mountfalcon, +Mrs. Berry."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry sought grace while she performed a series of +apologetic bobs, and wiped the perspiration from her forehead.</p> + +<p>Lucy put her in a chair: Lord Mountfalcon asked for +an account of her passage over to the Island; receiving +distressingly full particulars, by which it was revealed +that the softness of her heart was only equalled by the +weakness of her stomach. The recital calmed Mrs. Berry +down.</p> + +<p>"Well, and where's my—where's Mr. Richard? yer +husband, my dear?" Mrs. Berry turned from her tale to +question.</p> + +<p>"Did you expect to see him here?" said Lucy, in a +broken voice.</p> + +<p>"And where else, my love? since he haven't been seen +in London a whole fortnight."</p> + +<p>Lucy did not speak.</p> + +<p>"We will dismiss the Emperor Julian till to-morrow, I +think," said Lord Mountfalcon, rising and bowing.</p> + +<p>Lucy gave him her hand with mute thanks. He touched +it distantly, embraced Mrs. Berry in a farewell bow, and +was shown out of the house by Tom Bakewell.</p> + +<p>The moment he was gone, Mrs. Berry threw up her arms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> +"Did ye ever know sich a horrid thing to go and happen +to a virtuous woman!" she exclaimed. "I could cry at it, +I could! To be goin' and kissin' a strange hairy man! +Oh, dear me! what's comin' next, I wonder? Whiskers! +thinks I—for I know the touch o' whiskers—'t ain't like +other hair—what! have he growed a crop that sudden, +I says to myself; and it flashed on me I been and made +a awful mistake! and the lights come in, and I see that +great hairy man—beggin' his pardon—nobleman, and if +I could 'a dropped through the floor out o' sight o' men, +drat 'em! they're al'ays in the way, that they are!"——</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Berry," Lucy checked her, "did you expect to find +him here?"</p> + +<p>"Askin' that solemn?" retorted Berry. "What him? +your husband? Of course I did! and you got him—somewheres +hid."</p> + +<p>"I have not heard from my husband for fifteen days," +said Lucy, and her tears rolled heavily off her cheeks.</p> + +<p>'Not heer from him!—fifteen days!" Berry echoed.</p> + +<p>"O Mrs. Berry! dear kind Mrs. Berry! have you no +news? nothing to tell me! I've borne it so long. They're +cruel to me, Mrs. Berry. Oh, do you know if I have +offended him—my husband? While he wrote I did not +complain. I could live on his letters for years. But not +to hear from him! To think I have ruined him, and +that he repents! Do they want to take him from me? +Do they want me dead? O Mrs. Berry! I've had no one +to speak out my heart to all this time, and I cannot, +cannot help crying, Mrs. Berry!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry was inclined to be miserable at what she +heard from Lucy's lips, and she was herself full of dire +apprehension; but it was never this excellent creature's +system to be miserable in company. The sight of a sorrow +that was not positive, and could not refer to proof, set her +resolutely the other way.</p> + +<p>"Fiddle-faddle," she said. "I'd like to see him repent! +He won't find anywheres a beauty like his own dear little +wife, and he know it. Now, look you here, my dear—you +blessed weepin' pet—the man that could see ye with that +hair of yours there in ruins, and he backed by the law, and +not rush into your arms and hold ye squeezed for life, he +ain't got much man in him, I say; and no one can say that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> +of my babe! I was sayin', look here, to comfort ye—oh, +why, to be sure he've got some surprise for ye. And so've +I, my lamb! Hark, now! His father've come to town, +like a good reasonable man at last, to u-nite, ye both, and +bring your bodies together, as your hearts is, for ever-lastin'. +Now ain't that news?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Lucy, "that takes my last hope away. I +thought he had gone to his father." She burst into fresh +tears.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry paused, disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Belike he's travellin' after him," she suggested.</p> + +<p>"Fifteen days, Mrs. Berry!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, fifteen weeks, my dear, after sich a man as that. +He's a regular meteor, is Sir Austin Feverel, Raynham +Abbey. Well, so hark you here. I says to myself, that +knows him—for I did think my babe <i>was</i> in his natural +nest—I says, the bar'net'll never write for you both to +come up and beg forgiveness, so down I'll go and fetch +you up. For there was your mistake, my dear, ever to +leave your husband to go away from ye one hour in a +young marriage. It's dangerous, it's mad, it's wrong, +and it's only to be righted by your obeyin' of me, as I +commands it: for I has my fits, though I <i>am</i> a soft +'un. Obey me, and ye'll be happy to-morrow—or the next +to it."</p> + +<p>Lucy was willing to see comfort. She was weary of her +self-inflicted martyrdom, and glad to give herself up to +somebody else's guidance utterly.</p> + +<p>"But why does he not write to me, Mrs. Berry?"</p> + +<p>"'Cause, 'cause—who can tell the why of men, my dear? +But that he love ye faithful, I'll swear. Haven't he +groaned in my arms that he couldn't come to ye?—weak +wretch! Hasn't he swore how he loved ye to me, poor +young man! But this is your fault, my sweet. Yes, it +be. You should 'a followed my 'dvice at the fust—'stead +o' going into your 'eroics about this and t'other." Here +Mrs. Berry poured forth fresh sentences on matrimony, +pointed especially at young couples. "I should 'a been a +fool if I hadn't suffered myself," she confessed, "so I'll +thank my Berry if I makes you wise in season."</p> + +<p>Lucy smoothed her ruddy plump cheeks, and gazed up +affectionately into the soft woman's kind brown eyes. Endearing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> +phrases passed from mouth to mouth. And as +she gazed Lucy blushed, as one who has something very +secret to tell, very sweet, very strange, but cannot quite +bring herself to speak it.</p> + +<p>"Well! there's three men in my life I kissed," said Mrs. +Berry, too much absorbed in her extraordinary adventure +to notice the young wife's struggling bosom, "three men, +and one nobleman! He've got more whisker than my +Berry. I wonder what the man thought. Ten to one +he'll think, now, I was glad o' my chance—they're that +vain, whether they's lords or commons. How was I to +know? I nat'ral thinks none but her husband'd sit in +that chair. Ha! and in the dark? and alone with ye?" +Mrs. Berry hardened her eyes, "and your husband away? +What do this mean? Tell to me, child, what it mean his +bein' here alone without ere a candle?"</p> + +<p>"Lord Mountfalcon is the only friend I have here," said +Lucy. "He is very kind. He comes almost every evening."</p> + +<p>"Lord Muntfalcon—that his name!" Mrs. Berry exclaimed. +"I been that flurried by the man, I didn't mind +it at first. He comes every evenin', and your husband out +o' sight! My goodness me! it's gettin' worse and worse. +And what do he come for, now, ma'am? Now tell me +candid what ye do together here in the dark of an evenin'."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry glanced severely.</p> + +<p>"O Mrs. Berry! please not to speak in that way—I don't +like it," said Lucy, pouting.</p> + +<p>"What do he come for, I ask?"</p> + +<p>"Because he is kind, Mrs. Berry. He sees me very +lonely, and wishes to amuse me. And he tells me of +things I know nothing about and"——</p> + +<p>"And wants to be a-teachin' some of his things, mayhap," +Mrs. Berry interrupted with a ruffled breast.</p> + +<p>"You are a very ungenerous, suspicious, naughty old +woman," said Lucy, chiding her.</p> + +<p>"And you're a silly, unsuspectin' little bird," Mrs. +Berry retorted, as she returned her taps on the cheek. +"You haven't told me what ye do together, and what's +his excuse for comin'."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Mrs. Berry, almost every evening that he +comes we read History, and he explains the battles, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> +talks to me about the great men. And <i>he</i> says I'm not +silly, Mrs. Berry."</p> + +<p>"That's one bit o' lime on your wings, my bird. History, +indeed! History to a young married lovely woman alone +in the dark! a pretty History! Why, I know that man's +name, my dear. He's a notorious living rake, that Lord +Muntfalcon. No woman's safe with him."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but he hasn't deceived me, Mrs. Berry. He has +not pretended he was good."</p> + +<p>"More's his art," quoth the experienced dame. "So you +read History together in the dark, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"I was unwell to-night, Mrs. Berry. I wanted him not +to see my face. Look! there's the book open ready for +him when the candles come in. And now, you dear kind +darling old thing, let me kiss you for coming to me. I +do love you. Talk of other things."</p> + +<p>"So we will," said Mrs. Berry softening to Lucy's +caresses. "So let us. A nobleman, indeed! alone with a +young wife in the dark, and she sich a beauty! I say this +shall be put a stop to now and henceforth, on the spot it +shall! He won't meneuvele Bessy Berry with his arts. +There! I drop him. I'm dyin' for a cup o' tea, my dear."</p> + +<p>Lucy got up to ring the bell, and as Mrs. Berry, incapable +of quite dropping him, was continuing to say: +"Let him go and boast I kiss him; he ain't nothin' to be +'shamed of in a chaste woman's kiss—unawares—which +men don't get too often in their lives, I can assure 'em;"—her +eye surveyed Lucy's figure.</p> + +<p>Lo, when Lucy returned to her, Mrs. Berry surrounded +her with her arms, and drew her into feminine depths. +"Oh, you blessed!" she cried in most meaning tone, "you +good, lovin', proper little wife, you!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mrs. Berry!" lisps Lucy, opening the most +innocent blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"As if <i>I</i> couldn't see, you pet! It was my flurry blinded +me, or I'd 'a marked ye the fust shock. Thinkin' to deceive +me!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry's eyes spoke generations. Lucy's wavered; +she coloured all over, and hid her face on the bounteous +breast that mounted to her.</p> + +<p>"You're a sweet one," murmured the soft woman, patting +her back, and rocking her. "You're a rose, you are!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> +and a bud on your stalk. Haven't told a word to your +husband, my dear?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>Lucy shook her head, looking sly and shy.</p> + +<p>"That's right. We'll give him a surprise; let it come +all at once on him, and thinks he—losin' breath—'I'm a +father!' Nor a hint even you haven't give him?"</p> + +<p>Lucy kissed her, to indicate it was quite a secret.</p> + +<p>"Oh! you <i>are</i> a sweet one," said Bessy Berry, and rocked +her more closely and lovingly.</p> + +<p>Then these two had a whispered conversation, from +which let all of male persuasion retire a space nothing +under one mile.</p> + +<p>Returning, after a due interval, we see Mrs. Berry +counting on her fingers' ends. Concluding the sum, she +cries prophetically: "Now this right everything—a baby +in the balance! Now I say this angel-infant come from +on high. It's God's messenger, my love! and it's not wrong +to say so. He thinks you worthy, or you wouldn't 'a had +one—not for all the tryin' in the world, you wouldn't, +and some tries hard enough, poor creatures! How let us +rejice and make merry! I'm for cryin' and laughin', one +and the same. This is the blessed seal of matrimony, +which Berry never stamp on me. It's be hoped it's a boy. +Make that man a grandfather, and his grandchild a son, +and you got him safe. Oh! this is what I call happiness, +and I'll have my tea a little stronger in consequence. I +declare I could get tipsy to know this joyful news."</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Berry carolled. She had her tea a little +stronger. She ate and she drank; she rejoiced and made +merry. The bliss of the chaste was hers.</p> + +<p>Says Lucy demurely: "Now you know why I read History, +and that sort of books."</p> + +<p>"Do I?" replies Berry. "Belike I do. Since what you +done's so good, my darlin', I'm agreeable to anything. A +fig for all the lords! They can't come anigh a baby. You +may read Voyages and Travels, my dear, and Romances, +and Tales of Love and War. You cut the riddle in your +own dear way, and that's all I cares for."</p> + +<p>"No, but you don't understand," persists Lucy. "I +only read sensible books, and talk of serious things, because +I'm sure ... because I have heard say ... dear +Mrs. Berry! don't you understand now?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry smacked her knees. "Only to think of her +bein' that thoughtful! and she a Catholic, too! Never tell +me that people of one religion ain't as good as another, +after that. Why, you want to make him a historian, to +be sure! And that rake of a lord who've been comin' +here playin' at wolf, you been and made him—unbeknown +to himself—sort o' tutor to the unborn blessed! Ha! ha! +say that little women ain't got art ekal to the cunningest +of 'em. Oh! I understand. Why, to be sure, didn't I +know a lady, a widow of a clergyman: he was a postermost +child, and afore his birth that woman read nothin' but +Blair's 'Grave' over and over again, from the end to the +beginnin';—that's a serious book!—very hard readin'!—and +at four years of age that child that come of it reelly +was the piusest infant!—he was like a little curate. His +eyes was up; he talked so solemn." Mrs. Berry imitated +the little curate's appearance and manner of speaking. +"So she got her wish, for one!"</p> + +<p>But at this lady Lucy laughed.</p> + +<p>They chattered on happily till bedtime. Lucy arranged +for Mrs. Berry to sleep with her. "If it's not dreadful to +ye, my sweet, sleepin' beside a woman," said Mrs. Berry. +"I know it were to me shortly after my Berry, and I felt +it. It don't somehow seem nat'ral after matrimony—a +woman in your bed! I was obliged to have somebody, +for the cold sheets do give ye the creeps when you've been +used to that that's different."</p> + +<p>Upstairs they went together, Lucy not sharing these objections. +Then Lucy opened certain drawers, and exhibited +pretty caps, and laced linen, all adapted for a +very small body, all the work of her own hands: and Mrs. +Berry praised them and her. "You been guessing a boy—woman-like," +she said. Then they cooed, and kissed, and +undressed by the fire, and knelt at the bedside, with their +arms about each other, praying; both praying for the +unborn child; and Mrs. Berry pressed Lucy's waist the +moment she was about to breathe the petition to heaven +to shield and bless that coming life; and thereat Lucy +closed to her, and felt a strong love for her. Then Lucy +got into bed first, leaving Berry to put out the light, and +before she did so, Berry leaned over her, and eyed her +roguishly, saying, "I never see ye like this, but I'm half<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> +in love with ye myself, you blushin' beauty! Sweet's your +eyes, and your hair do take one so—lyin' back. I'd never +forgive my father if he kep me away from ye four-and-twenty +hours just. Husband o' that!" Berry pointed at +the young wife's loveliness. "Ye look so ripe with kisses, +and there they are a-languishin'!— ... You never +look so but in your bed, ye beauty!—just as it ought to +be." Lucy had to pretend to rise to put out the light +before Berry would give up her amorous chaste soliloquy. +Then they lay in bed, and Mrs. Berry fondled her, and +arranged for their departure to-morrow, and reviewed +Richard's emotions when he came to hear he was going +to be made a father by her, and hinted at Lucy's delicious +shivers when Richard was again in his rightful place, +which she, Bessy Berry, now usurped; and all sorts of +amorous sweet things; enough to make one fancy the +adage subverted, that stolen fruits are sweetest; she drew +such glowing pictures of bliss within the law and the +limits of the conscience, till at last, worn out, Lucy murmured +"Peepy, dear Berry," and the soft woman gradually +ceased her chirp.</p> + +<p>Bessy Berry did not sleep. She lay thinking of the +sweet brave heart beside her, and listening to Lucy's +breath as it came and went; squeezing the fair sleeper's +hand now and then, to ease her love as her reflections +warmed. A storm of wind came howling over the Hampshire +hills, and sprang white foam on the water, and shook +the bare trees. It passed, leaving a thin cloth of snow on +the wintry land. The moon shone brilliantly. Berry +heard the house-dog bark. His bark was savage and persistent. +She was roused by the noise. By and by she +fancied she heard a movement in the house; then it seemed +to her that the house-door opened. She cocked her ears, +and could almost make out voices in the midnight stillness. +She slipped from the bed, locked and bolted the door of +the room, assured herself of Lucy's unconsciousness, and +went on tiptoe to the window. The trees all stood white +to the north; the ground glittered; the cold was keen. +Berry wrapped her fat arms across her bosom, and peeped +as close over the garden as the situation of the window +permitted. Berry was a soft, not a timid, woman: and it +happened this night that her thoughts were above the fears<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> +of the dark. She was sure of the voices; curiosity without +a shade of alarm held her on the watch; and gathering +bundles of her day-apparel round her neck and shoulders, +she silenced the chattering of her teeth as well as she +could, and remained stationary. The low hum of the +voices came to a break; something was said in a louder +tone; the house-door quietly shut; a man walked out of +the garden into the road. He paused opposite her window, +and Berry let the blind go back to its place, and peeped +from behind an edge of it. He was in the shadow of the +house, so that it was impossible to discern much of his figure. +After some minutes he walked rapidly away, and +Berry returned to the bed an icicle, from which Lucy's +limbs sensitively shrank.</p> + +<p>Next morning Mrs. Berry asked Tom Bakewell if he +had been disturbed in the night. Tom, the mysterious, +said he had slept like a top. Mrs. Berry went to the garden. +The snow was partially melted; all save one spot +just under the portal, and there she saw the print of a +man's foot. By some strange guidance it occurred to her +to go and find one of Richard's boots. She did so, and, +unperceived, she measured the sole of the boot in that +solitary footmark. There could be no doubt that it fitted. +She tried it from heel to toe a dozen times.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XL</h2> + +<h3>CLARE'S DIARY</h3> + + +<p>Sir Austin Feverel had come to town with the serenity +of a philosopher who says, 'Tis now time; and the satisfaction +of a man who has not arrived thereat without a +struggle. He had almost forgiven his son. His deep love +for him had well-nigh shaken loose from wounded pride +and more tenacious vanity. Stirrings of a remote sympathy +for the creature who had robbed him of his son +and hewed at his System, were in his heart of hearts. +This he knew; and in his own mind he took credit for his +softness. But the world must not suppose him soft; the +world must think he was still acting on his System.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> +Otherwise what would his long absence signify?—Something +highly unphilosophical. So, though love was strong, +and was moving him to a straightforward course, the last +tug of vanity drew him still aslant.</p> + +<p>The Aphorist read himself so well, that to juggle with +himself was a necessity. As he wished the world to see +him, he beheld himself: one who entirely put aside mere +personal feelings: one in whom parental duty, based on +the science of life, was paramount: a Scientific Humanist, +in short.</p> + +<p>He was, therefore, rather surprised at a coldness in +Lady Blandish's manner when he did appear. "At last!" +said the lady, in a sad way that sounded reproachfully. +Now the Scientific Humanist had, of course, nothing to +reproach himself with.</p> + +<p>But where was Richard?</p> + +<p>Adrian positively averred he was not with his wife.</p> + +<p>"If he had gone," said the baronet, "he would have anticipated +me by a few hours."</p> + +<p>This, when repeated to Lady Blandish, should have propitiated +her, and shown his great forgiveness. She, however, +sighed, and looked at him wistfully.</p> + +<p>Their converse was not happy and deeply intimate. +Philosophy did not seem to catch her mind; and fine +phrases encountered a rueful assent, more flattering to +their grandeur than to their influence.</p> + +<p>Days went by. Richard did not present himself. Sir +Austin's pitch of self-command was to await the youth +without signs of impatience.</p> + +<p>Seeing this, the lady told him her fears for Richard, +and mentioned the rumour of him that was about.</p> + +<p>"If," said the baronet, "this person, his wife, is what +you paint her, I do not share your fears for him. I think +too well of him. If she is one to inspire the sacredness of +that union, I think too well of him. It is impossible."</p> + +<p>The lady saw one thing to be done.</p> + +<p>"Call her to you," she said. "Have her with you at +Raynham. Recognize her. It is the disunion and doubt +that so confuses him and drives him wild. I confess to +you I hoped he had gone to her. It seems not. If she is +with you his way will be clear. Will you do that?"</p> + +<p>Science is notoriously of slow movement. Lady Blandish's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> +proposition was far too hasty for Sir Austin. +Women, rapid by nature, have no idea of science.</p> + +<p>"We shall see her there in time, Emmeline. At present +let it be between me and my son."</p> + +<p>He spoke loftily. In truth it offended him to be asked +to do anything, when he had just brought himself to do so +much.</p> + +<p>A month elapsed, and Richard appeared on the scene.</p> + +<p>The meeting between him and his father was not what +his father had expected and had crooned over in the Welsh +mountains. Richard shook his hand respectfully, and inquired +after his health with the common social solicitude. +He then said: "During your absence, sir, I have taken the +liberty, without consulting you, to do something in which +you are more deeply concerned than myself. I have taken +upon myself to find out my mother and place her under my +care. I trust you will not think I have done wrong. I +acted as I thought best."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin replied: "You are of an age, Richard, to +judge for yourself in such a case. I would have you +simply beware of deceiving yourself in imagining that you +considered any one but yourself in acting as you did."</p> + +<p>"I have not deceived myself, sir," said Richard, and the +interview was over. Both hated an exposure of the feelings, +and in that both were satisfied: but the baronet, as +one who loves, hoped and looked for tones indicative of +trouble and delight in the deep heart; and Richard gave +him none of those. The young man did not even face him +as he spoke: if their eyes met by chance, Richard's were +defiantly cold. His whole bearing was changed.</p> + +<p>"This rash marriage has altered him," said the very just +man of science in life: and that meant: "it has debased +him."</p> + +<p>He pursued his reflections. "I see in him the desperate +maturity of a suddenly-ripened nature: and but for my +faith that good work is never lost, what should I think of +the toil of my years? Lost, perhaps to me! lost to him! +It may show itself in his children."</p> + +<p>The Philosopher, we may conceive, has contentment in +benefiting embryos: but it was a somewhat bitter prospect +to Sir Austin. Bitterly he felt the injury to himself.</p> + +<p>One little incident spoke well of Richard. A poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span> +woman called at the hotel while he was missing. The +baronet saw her, and she told him a tale that threw +Christian light on one part of Richard's nature. But this +might gratify the father in Sir Austin; it did not touch +the man of science. A Feverel, his son, would not do +less, he thought. He sat down deliberately to study his +son.</p> + +<p>No definite observation enlightened him. Richard ate +and drank; joked and laughed. He was generally before +Adrian in calling for a fresh bottle. He talked easily of +current topics; his gaiety did not sound forced. In all he +did, nevertheless, there was not the air of a youth who sees +a future before him. Sir Austin put that down. It might +be carelessness, and wanton blood, for no one could say he +had much on his mind. The man of science was not +reckoning that Richard also might have learned to act +and wear a mask. Dead subjects—this is to say, people +not on their guard—he could penetrate and dissect. It is +by a rare chance, as scientific men well know, that one +has an opportunity of examining the structure of the +living.</p> + +<p>However, that rare chance was granted to Sir Austin. +They were engaged to dine with Mrs. Doria at the Foreys', +and walked down to her in the afternoon, father and son +arm-in-arm, Adrian beside them. Previously the offended +father had condescended to inform his son that it would +shortly be time for him to return to his wife, indicating +that arrangements would ultimately be ordered to receive +her at Raynham. Richard had replied nothing; which +might mean excess of gratitude, or hypocrisy in concealing +his pleasure, or any one of the thousand shifts by +which gratified human nature expresses itself when all is +made to run smooth with it. Now Mrs. Berry had her +surprise ready charged for the young husband. She had +Lucy in her own house waiting for him. Every day she +expected him to call and be overcome by the rapturous +surprise, and every day, knowing his habit of frequenting +the park, she marched Lucy thither, under the plea that +Master Richard, whom she had already christened, should +have an airing.</p> + +<p>The round of the red winter sun was behind the bare +Kensington chestnuts, when these two parties met. Happily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> +for Lucy and the hope she bore in her bosom, she +was perversely admiring a fair horsewoman galloping by +at the moment. Mrs. Berry plucked at her gown once or +twice, to prepare her eyes for the shock, but Lucy's head +was still half averted, and thinks Mrs. Berry, "'Twon't +hurt her if she go into his arms head foremost." They were +close; Mrs. Berry performed the bob preliminary. Richard +held her silent with a terrible face; he grasped her arm, +and put her behind him. Other people intervened. Lucy +saw nothing to account for Berry's excessive flutter. +Berry threw it on the air and some breakfast bacon, which, +she said, she knew in the morning while she ate it, was +bad for the bile, and which probably was the cause of her +bursting into tears, much to Lucy's astonishment.</p> + +<p>"What you ate makes you cry, Mrs. Berry?"</p> + +<p>"It's all——" Mrs. Berry pressed at her heart and +leaned sideways, "it's all stomach, my dear. Don't ye +mind," and becoming aware of her unfashionable behaviour, +she trailed off to the shelter of the elms.</p> + +<p>"You have a singular manner with old ladies," said Sir +Austin to his son, after Berry had been swept aside. +"Scarcely courteous. She behaved like a mad woman, certainly.—Are +you ill, my son?"</p> + +<p>Richard was death-pale, his strong form smitten +through with weakness. The baronet sought Adrian's +eye. Adrian had seen Lucy as they passed, and he had a +glimpse of Richard's countenance while disposing of +Berry. Had Lucy recognized them, he would have gone to +her unhesitatingly. As she did not, he thought it well, +under the circumstances, to leave matters as they were. +He answered the baronet's look with a shrug.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill, Richard?" Sir Austin again asked his son.</p> + +<p>"Come on, sir! come on!" cried Richard.</p> + +<p>His father's further meditations, as they stepped briskly +to the Foreys', gave poor Berry a character which one who +lectures on matrimony, and has kissed but three men in +her life, shrieks to hear the very title of.</p> + +<p>"Richard will go to his wife to-morrow," Sir Austin +said to Adrian some time before they went in to dinner.</p> + +<p>Adrian asked him if he had chanced to see a young fair-haired +lady by the side of the old one Richard had treated +so peculiarly; and to the baronet's acknowledgment that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> +he remembered to have observed such a person, Adrian +said: "That was his wife, sir."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin could not dissect the living subject. As if a +bullet had torn open the young man's skull, and some blast +of battle laid his palpitating organization bare, he watched +every motion of his brain and his heart; and with the +grief and terror of one whose mental habit was ever to +pierce to extremes. Not altogether conscious that he had +hitherto played with life, he felt that he was suddenly +plunged into the stormful reality of it. He projected to +speak plainly to his son on all points that night.</p> + +<p>"Richard is very gay," Mrs. Doria whispered her +brother.</p> + +<p>"All will be right with him to-morrow," he replied; for +the game had been in his hands so long, so long had he +been the God of the machine, that having once resolved +to speak plainly and to act, he was to a certain extent +secure, bad as the thing to mend might be.</p> + +<p>"I notice he has rather a wild laugh—I don't exactly +like his eyes," said Mrs. Doria.</p> + +<p>"You will see a change in him to-morrow," the man of +science remarked.</p> + +<p>It was reserved for Mrs. Doria herself to experience that +change. In the middle of the dinner a telegraphic message +from her son-in-law, worthy John Todhunter, reached the +house, stating that Clare was alarmingly ill, bidding her +come instantly. She cast about for some one to accompany +her, and fixed on Richard. Before he would give his +consent for Richard to go, Sir Austin desired to speak +with him apart, and in that interview he said to his son: +"My dear Richard! it was my intention that we should +come to an understanding together this night. But the +time is short—poor Helen cannot spare many minutes. +Let me then say that you deceived me, and that I forgive +you. We fix our seal on the past. You will bring your +wife to me when you return." And very cheerfully the +baronet looked down on the generous future he thus +founded.</p> + +<p>"Will you have her at Raynham at once, sir?" said +Richard.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my son, when you bring her."</p> + +<p>"Are you mocking me, sir?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> +"Pray, what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I ask you to receive her at once."</p> + +<p>"Well! the delay cannot be long. I do not apprehend +that you will be kept from your happiness many days."</p> + +<p>"I think it will be some time, sir!" said Richard, sighing +deeply.</p> + +<p>"And what mental freak is this that can induce you to +postpone it and play with your first duty?"</p> + +<p>"What is my first duty, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Since you are married, to be with your wife."</p> + +<p>"I have heard that from an old woman called Berry!" +said Richard to himself, not intending irony.</p> + +<p>"Will you receive her at once?" he asked resolutely.</p> + +<p>The baronet was clouded by his son's reception of his +graciousness. His grateful prospect had formerly been +Richard's marriage—the culmination of his System. +Richard had destroyed his participation in that. He now +looked for a pretty scene in recompense:—Richard leading +up his wife to him, and both being welcomed by him paternally, +and so held one ostentatious minute in his embrace.</p> + +<p>He said: "Before you return, I demur to receiving +her."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir," replied his son, and stood as if he had +spoken all.</p> + +<p>"Really you tempt me to fancy you already regret your +rash proceeding!" the baronet exclaimed; and the next +moment it pained him he had uttered the words, Richard's +eyes were so sorrowfully fierce. It pained him, but he +divined in that look a history, and he could not refrain +from glancing acutely and asking: "Do you?"</p> + +<p>"Regret it, sir?" The question aroused one of those +struggles in the young man's breast which a passionate +storm of tears may still, and which sink like leaden death +into the soul when tears come not. Richard's eyes had the +light of the desert.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" his father repeated. "You tempt me—I +almost fear you do." At the thought—for he expressed +his mind—the pity that he had for Richard was not pure +gold.</p> + +<p>"Ask me what I think of her, sir! Ask me what she is! +Ask me what it is to have taken one of God's precious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> +angels and chained her to misery! Ask me what it is to +have plunged a sword into her heart, and to stand over +her and see such a creature bleeding! Do I regret that? +Why, yes, I do! Would you?"</p> + +<p>His eyes flew hard at his father under the ridge of his +eyebrows.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin winced and reddened. Did he understand? +There is ever in the mind's eye a certain wilfulness. We +see and understand; we see and won't understand.</p> + +<p>"Tell me why you passed by her as you did this afternoon," +he said gravely: and in the same voice Richard +answered: "I passed her because I could not do otherwise."</p> + +<p>"Your wife, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! my wife!"</p> + +<p>"If she had seen you, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"God spared her that!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria, bustling in practical haste, and bearing +Richard's hat and greatcoat in her energetic hands, came +between them at this juncture. Dimples of commiseration +were in her cheeks while she kissed her brother's perplexed +forehead. She forgot her trouble about Clare, deploring +his fatuity.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin was forced to let his son depart. As of old, +he took counsel with Adrian, and the wise youth was +soothing. "Somebody has kissed him, sir, and the chaste +boy can't get over it." This absurd suggestion did more +to appease the baronet than if Adrian had given a veritable +reasonable key to Richard's conduct. It set him thinking +that it might be a prudish strain in the young man's +mind, due to the System in difficulties.</p> + +<p>"I may have been wrong in one thing," he said, with an +air of the utmost doubt of it. "I, perhaps, was wrong in +allowing him so much liberty during his probation."</p> + +<p>Adrian pointed out to him that he had distinctly commanded +it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; that is on me."</p> + +<p>His was an order of mind that would accept the most +burdensome charges, and by some species of moral usury +make a profit out of them.</p> + +<p>Clare was little talked of. Adrian attributed the employment +of the telegraph to John Todhunter's uxorious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> +distress at a toothache, or possibly the first symptoms of +an heir to his house.</p> + +<p>"That child's mind has disease in it. She is not sound," +said the baronet.</p> + +<p>On the door-step of the hotel, when they returned, stood +Mrs. Berry. Her wish to speak a few words with the +baronet reverentially communicated, she was ushered upstairs +into his room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry compressed her person in the chair she was +beckoned to occupy.</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am, you have something to say," observed the +baronet, for she seemed loath to commence.</p> + +<p>"Wishin' I hadn't:" Mrs. Berry took him up, and mindful +of the good rule to begin at the beginning, pursued: +"I dare say, Sir Austin, you don't remember me, and I +little thought when last we parted our meeting'd be like +this. Twenty year don't go over one without showin' it, +no more than twenty ox. It's a might o' time,—twenty +year! Leastways not quite twenty, it ain't."</p> + +<p>"Round figures are best," Adrian remarked.</p> + +<p>"In them round figures a be-loved son have growed up, +and got himself married!" said Mrs. Berry, diving straight +into the case.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin then learnt that he had before him the +culprit who had assisted his son in that venture. It was +a stretch of his patience to hear himself addressed on a +family matter, but he was naturally courteous.</p> + +<p>"He came to my house, Sir Austin, a stranger! If +twenty year alters us as have knowed each other on the +earth, how must they alter they that we parted with just +come from heaven! And a heavenly babe he were! se +sweet! se strong! <i>so</i> fat!"</p> + +<p>Adrian laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry bumped a curtsey to him in her chair, continuing: +"I wished afore I spoke to say how thankful am I +bound to be for my pension not cut short, as have offended +so, but that I know Sir Austin Feverel, Raynham Abbey, +ain't one o' them that likes to hear their good deeds published. +And a pension to me now, it's something more +than it were. For a pension and pretty rosy cheeks in a +maid, which I was—that's a bait many a man'll bite, that +won't so a forsaken wife!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you will speak to the point, ma'am, I will listen to +you," the baronet interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"It's the beginnin' that's the worst, and that's over, +thank the Lord! So I'll speak, Sir Austin, and say my +say:—Lord speed me! Believin' our idees o' matrimony +to be sim'lar, then, I'll say, once married—married for +life! Yes! I don't even like widows. For I can't stop at +the grave. Not at the tomb I can't stop. My husband's +my husband, and if I'm a body at the Resurrection, I say +speaking humbly, my Berry is the husband o' my body; +and to think of two claimin' of me then—it makes me hot +all over. Such is my notion of that state 'tween man and +woman. No givin' in marriage, o' course I know, and if +so I'm single."</p> + +<p>The baronet suppressed a smile. "Really, my good +woman, you wander very much."</p> + +<p>"Beggin' pardon, Sir Austin; but I has my point before +me all the same, and I'm comin' to it. Ac-knowledgin' +our error, it's done, and bein' done, it's writ aloft. Oh! +if you only knew what a sweet young creature she be! +Indeed 'taint all of humble birth that's unworthy, Sir +Austin. And she got her idees, too. She reads History! +She talk that sensible as would surprise ye. But for all +that she's a prey to the artful o' men—unpertected. And +it's a young marriage—but there's no fear for her, as far +as she go. The fear's t'other way. There's that in a man—at +the commencement—which make of him Lord knows +what, if you any way interferes: whereas a woman bides +quiet! It's consolation catch her, which is what we mean +by seducin'. Whereas a man—he's a savage!"</p> + +<p>Sir Austin turned his face to Adrian, who was listening +with huge delight.</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am, I see you have something in your mind, +if you would only come to it quickly."</p> + +<p>"Then here's my point, Sir Austin. I say you bred him +so as there ain't another young gentleman like him in +England, and proud he make me. And as for her, I'll risk +sayin'—it's done, and no harm—you might search England +through, and nowhere will ye find a maid that's his +match like his own wife. Then there they be. Are they +together as should be? O Lord no! Months they been +divided. Then she all lonely and exposed, I went, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> +fetched her out of seducers' ways—which they may say +what they like, but the inn'cent is most open to when +they're healthy and confidin'—I fetch her, and—the liberty—boxed +her safe in my own house. So much for that +sweet! That you may do with women. But it's him—Mr. +Richard—I <i>am</i> bold, I know, but there—I'm in for +it, and the Lord'll help me! It's him, Sir Austin, in this +great metropolis, warm from a young marriage. It's him, +and—I say nothin' of her, and how sweet she bears it, and +it's eating her at a time when Natur' should have no other +trouble but the one that's goin' on—it's him, and I ask—so +bold—shall there—and a Christian gentleman his +father—shall there be a tug 'tween him as a son and him +as a husband—soon to be somethin' else? I speak bold +out—I'd have sons obey their fathers, but the priest's +words spoke over him, which they're now in my ears, I +say I ain't a doubt on earth—I'm sure there ain't one in +heaven—which dooty's the holier of the two."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin heard her to an end. Their views on the +junction of the sexes were undoubtedly akin. To be lectured +on his prime subject, however, was slightly disagreeable, +and to be obliged mentally to assent to this old lady's +doctrine was rather humiliating, when it could not be +averred that he had latterly followed it out. He sat cross-legged +and silent, a finger to his temple.</p> + +<p>"One gets so addle-pated thinkin' many things," said +Mrs. Berry, simply. "That's why we see wonder clever +people goin' wrong—to my mind. I think it's al'ays the +plan in a dielemmer to pray God and walk forward."</p> + +<p>The keen-witted soft woman was tracking the baronet's +thoughts, and she had absolutely run him down and taken +an explanation out of his mouth, by which Mrs. Berry was +to have been informed that he had acted from a principle +of his own, and devolved a wisdom she could not be expected +to comprehend.</p> + +<p>Of course he became advised immediately that it would +be waste of time to direct such an explanation to her +inferior capacity.</p> + +<p>He gave her his hand, saying, "My son has gone out of +town to see his cousin, who is ill. He will return in two or +three days, and then they will both come to me at Raynham."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry took the tips of his fingers, and went half-way +to the floor perpendicularly. "He pass her like a +stranger in the park this evenin'," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"Ah?" said the baronet. "Yes, well! they will be at +Raynham before the week is over."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry was not quite satisfied. "Not of his own +accord he pass that sweet young wife of his like a stranger +this day, Sir Austin!"</p> + +<p>"I must beg you not to intrude further, ma'am."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry bobbed her bunch of a body out of the +room.</p> + +<p>"All's well as ends well," she said to herself. "It's bad +inquirin' too close among men. We must take 'em somethin' +like Providence—<i>as</i> they come. Thank heaven! I +kep' back the baby."</p> + +<p>In Mrs. Berry's eyes the baby was the victorious reserve.</p> + +<p>Adrian asked his chief what he thought of that specimen +of women.</p> + +<p>"I think I have not met a better in my life," said the +baronet, mingling praise and sarcasm.</p><br /> + + +<p>Clare lies in her bed as placid as in the days when she +breathed; her white hands stretched their length along the +sheets, at peace from head to feet. She needs iron no +more. Richard is face to face with death for the first +time. He sees the sculpture of clay—the spark gone.</p> + +<p>Clare gave her mother the welcome of the dead. This +child would have spoken nothing but kind commonplaces +had she been alive. She was dead, and none knew her +malady. On her fourth finger were two wedding-rings.</p> + +<p>When hours of weeping had silenced the mother's anguish, +she, for some comfort she saw in it, pointed out +that strange thing to Richard, speaking low in the chamber +of the dead; and then he learnt that it was his own +lost ring Clare wore in the two worlds. He learnt from +her husband that Clare's last request had been that neither +of the rings should be removed. She had written it; she +would not speak it.</p> + +<p>"I beg of my husband, and all kind people who may have +the care of me between this and the grave, to bury me with +my hands untouched."</p> + +<p>The tracing of the words showed the bodily torment she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> +was suffering, as she wrote them on a scrap of paper found +beside her pillow.</p> + +<p>In wonder, as the dim idea grew from the waving of +Clare's dead hand, Richard paced the house, and hung +about the awful room; dreading to enter it, reluctant to +quit it. The secret Clare had buried while she lived, arose +with her death. He saw it play like flame across her +marble features. The memory of her voice was like a +knife at his nerves. His coldness to her started up accusingly: +her meekness was bitter blame.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the fourth day, her mother came to +him in his bedroom, with a face so white that he asked +himself if aught worse could happen to a mother than the +loss of her child. Choking she said to him, "Read this," +and thrust a leather-bound pocket-book trembling in his +hand. She would not breathe to him what it was. She +entreated him not to open it before her.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she said, "tell me what you think. John +must not hear of it. I have nobody to consult but you—O +Richard!"</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Diary</span>" was written in the round hand of Clare's +childhood on the first page. The first name his eye encountered +was his own.</p> + +<p>"Richard's fourteenth birthday. I have worked him a +purse and put it under his pillow, because he is going to +have plenty of money. He does not notice me now because +he has a friend now, and he is ugly, but Richard is not, +and never will be."</p> + +<p>The occurrences of that day were subsequently recorded, +and a childish prayer to God for him set down. Step by +step he saw her growing mind in his history. As she advanced +in years she began to look back, and made much of +little trivial remembrances, all bearing upon him.</p> + +<p>"We went into the fields and gathered cowslips together, +and pelted each other, and I told him he used to call them +'coals-sleeps' when he was a baby, and he was angry at +my telling him, for he does not like to be told he was ever +a baby."</p> + +<p>He remembered the incident, and remembered his stupid +scorn of her meek affection. Little Clare! how she lived +before him in her white dress and pink ribbons, and soft +dark eyes! Upstairs she was lying dead. He read on:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mama says there is no one in the world like Richard, +and I am sure there is not, not in the whole world. He +says he is going to be a great General and going to the +wars. If he does I shall dress myself as a boy and go +after him, and he will not know me till I am wounded. +Oh I pray he will never, never be wounded. I wonder +what I should feel if Richard was ever to die."</p> + +<p>Upstairs Clare was lying dead.</p> + +<p>"Lady Blandish said there was a likeness between Richard +and me. Richard said I hope I do not hang down my +head as she does. He is angry with me because I do not +look people in the face and speak out, but I know I am not +looking after earthworms."</p> + +<p>Yes. He had told her that. A shiver seized him at the +recollection.</p> + +<p>Then it came to a period when the words: "Richard +kissed me," stood by themselves, and marked a day in her +life.</p> + +<p>Afterwards it was solemnly discovered that Richard +wrote poetry. He read one of his old forgotten compositions +penned when he had that ambition.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thy truth to me is truer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than horse, or dog, or blade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy vows to me are fewer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than ever maiden made.<br /></span> +<br /></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou steppest from thy splendour<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To make my life a song:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bosom shall be tender<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As thine has risen strong."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>All the verses were transcribed. "It is he who is the +humble knight," Clare explained at the close, "and his +lady is a Queen. Any Queen would throw her crown +away for him."</p> + +<p>It came to that period when Clare left Raynham with +her mother.</p> + +<p>"Richard was not sorry to lose me. He only loves boys +and men. Something tells me I shall never see Raynham +again. He was dressed in blue. He said Good-bye, Clare, +and kissed me on the cheek. Richard never kisses me on +the mouth. He did not know I went to his bed and kissed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> +him while he was asleep. He sleeps with one arm under +his head, and the other out on the bed. I moved away a +bit of his hair that was over his eyes. I wanted to cut it. +I have one piece. I do not let anybody see I am unhappy, +not even mama. She says I want iron. I am sure I do +not. I like to write my name. Clare Doria Forey. Richard's +is Richard Doria Feverel."</p> + +<p>His breast rose convulsively. Clare Doria Forey! He +knew the music of that name. He had heard it somewhere. +It sounded faint and mellow now behind the hills of +death.</p> + +<p>He could not read for tears. It was midnight. The +hour seemed to belong to her. The awful stillness and +the darkness were Clare's. Clare's voice clear and cold +from the grave possessed it.</p> + +<p>Painfully, with blinded eyes, he looked over the breathless +pages. She spoke of his marriage, and her finding +the ring.</p> + +<p>"I knew it was his. I knew he was going to be married +that morning. I saw him stand by the altar when they +laughed at breakfast. His wife must be so beautiful! +Richard's wife! Perhaps he will love me better now he +is married. Mama says they must be separated. That is +shameful. If I can help him I will. I pray so that he may +be happy. I hope God hears poor sinners' prayers. I am +very sinful. Nobody knows it as I do. They say I am +good, but I know. When I look on the ground I am not +looking after earthworms, as he said. Oh, do forgive me, +God!"</p> + +<p>Then she spoke of her own marriage, and that it was her +duty to obey her mother. A blank in the Diary ensued.</p> + +<p>"I have seen Richard. Richard despises me," was the +next entry.</p> + +<p>But now as he read his eyes were fixed, and the delicate +feminine handwriting like a black thread drew on his soul +to one terrible conclusion.</p> + +<p>"I cannot live. Richard despises me. I cannot bear +the touch of my fingers or the sight of my face. Oh! I +understand him now. He should not have kissed me so +that last time. I wished to die while his mouth was on +mine."</p> + +<p>Further: "I have no escape. Richard said he would die<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> +rather than endure it. I know he would. Why should I +be afraid to do what he would do? I think if my husband +whipped me I could bear it better. He is so kind, and +tries to make me cheerful. He will soon be very unhappy. +I pray to God half the night. I seem to be losing sight +of my God the more I pray."</p> + +<p>Richard laid the book open on the table. Phantom +surges seemed to be mounting and travelling for his brain. +Had Clare taken his wild words in earnest? Did she lie +there dead—he shrouded the thought.</p> + +<p>He wrapped the thoughts in shrouds, but he was again +reading.</p> + +<p>"A quarter to one o'clock. I shall not be alive this time +to-morrow. I shall never see Richard now. I dreamed +last night we were in the fields together, and he walked +with his arm round my waist. We were children, but I +thought we were married, and I showed him I wore his +ring, and he said—if you always wear it, Clare, you are +as good as my wife. Then I made a vow to wear it for +ever and ever.... It is not mama's fault. She does +not think as Richard and I do of these things. He is not +a coward, nor am I. He hates cowards.</p> + +<p>"I have written to his father to make him happy. Perhaps +when I am dead he will hear what I say.</p> + +<p>"I heard just now Richard call distinctly—Clari, come +out to me. Surely he has not gone. I am going I know +not where. I cannot think. I am very cold."</p> + +<p>The words were written larger, and staggered towards +the close, as if her hand had lost mastery over the pen.</p> + +<p>"I can only remember Richard now a boy. A little boy +and a big boy. I am not sure now of his voice. I can +only remember certain words. 'Clari,' and 'Don Ricardo,' +and his laugh. He used to be full of fun. Once we +laughed all day together tumbling in the hay. Then he +had a friend and began to write poetry, and be proud. If +I had married a young man he would have forgiven me, +but I should not have been happier. I must have died. +God never looks on me.</p> + +<p>"It is past two o'clock. The sheep are bleating outside. +It must be very cold in the ground. Good-bye, Richard."</p> + +<p>With his name it began and ended. Even to herself +Clare was not over-communicative. The book was slender,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> +yet her nineteen years of existence left half the number +of pages white.</p> + +<p>Those last words drew him irresistibly to gaze on her. +There she lay, the same impassive Clare. For a moment +he wondered she had not moved—to him she had become +so different. She who had just filled his ears with strange +tidings—it was not possible to think her dead! She +seemed to have been speaking to him all through his life. +His image was on that still heart.</p> + +<p>He dismissed the night-watchers from the room, and remained +with her alone, till the sense of death oppressed +him, and then the shock sent him to the window to look for +sky and stars. Behind a low broad pine, hung with frosty +mist, he heard a bell-wether of the flock in the silent fold. +Death in life it sounded.</p> + +<p>The mother found him praying at the foot of Clare's +bed. She knelt by his side, and they prayed, and their +joint sobs shook their bodies, but neither of them shed +many tears. They held a dark unspoken secret in common. +They prayed God to forgive her.</p> + +<p>Clare was buried in the family vault of the Todhunters. +Her mother breathed no wish to have her lying at Lobourne.</p> + +<p>After the funeral, what they alone upon earth knew +brought them together.</p> + +<p>"Richard," she said, "the worst is over for me. I have +no one to love but you, dear. We have all been fighting +against God, and this.... Richard! you will come with +me, and be united to your wife, and spare my brother what +I suffer."</p> + +<p>He answered the broken spirit: "I have killed one. She +sees me as I am. I cannot go with you to my wife, because +I am not worthy to touch her hand, and were I to +go, I should do <i>this</i> to silence my self-contempt. Go you +to her, and when she asks of me, say I have a death upon +my head that——No! say that I am abroad, seeking for +that which shall cleanse me. If I find it I shall come to +claim her. If not, God help us all!"</p> + +<p>She had no strength to contest his solemn words, or stay +him, and he went forth.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XLI</h2> + +<h3>AUSTIN RETURNS</h3> + + +<p>A man with a beard saluted the wise youth Adrian in +the full blaze of Piccadilly with a clap on the shoulder. +Adrian glanced leisurely behind.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to try my nerves, my dear fellow? I'm +not a man of fashion, happily, or you would have struck +the seat of them. How are you?"</p> + +<p>That was his welcome to Austin Wentworth after his +long absence.</p> + +<p>Austin took his arm, and asked for news, with the +hunger of one who had been in the wilderness five years.</p> + +<p>"The Whigs have given up the ghost, my dear Austin. +The free Briton is to receive Liberty's pearl, the Ballot. +The Aristocracy has had a cycle's notice to quit. The +Monarchy and old Madeira are going out; Demos and +Cape wines are coming in. They call it Reform. So, you +see, your absence has worked wonders. Depart for another +five years, and you will return to ruined stomachs, cracked +sconces, general upset, an equality made perfect by universal +prostration."</p> + +<p>Austin indulged him in a laugh. "I want to hear about +ourselves. How is old Ricky?"</p> + +<p>"You know of his—what do they call it when greenhorns +are licenced to jump into the milkpails of dairymaids?—a +very charming little woman she makes, by the way—presentable! +quite old Anacreon's rose in milk. Well! everybody +thought the System must die of it. Not a bit. It +continued to flourish in spite. It's in a consumption now, +though—emaciated, lean, raw, spectral! I've this morning +escaped from Raynham to avoid the sight of it. I have +brought our genial uncle Hippias to town—a delightful +companion! I said to him: 'We've had a fine Spring.' +'Ugh!' he answers, 'there's a time when you come to think +the Spring old.' You should have heard how he trained +out the 'old.' I felt something like decay in my sap just to +hear him. In the prize-fight of life, my dear Austin, our +uncle Hippias has been unfairly hit below the belt. Let's +guard ourselves there, and go and order dinner."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But where's Ricky now, and what is he doing?" said +Austin.</p> + +<p>"Ask what he has done. The miraculous boy has gone +and got a baby!"</p> + +<p>"A child? Richard has one?" Austin's clear eyes shone +with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's not common among your tropical savages. +He has one: one as big as two. That has been the +death-blow to the System. It bore the marriage—the baby +was too much for it. Could it swallow the baby, 'twould +live. She, the wonderful woman, has produced a large +boy. I assure you it's quite amusing to see the System +opening its mouth every hour of the day, trying to gulp +him down, aware that it would be a consummate cure, or +happy release."</p> + +<p>By degrees Austin learnt the baronet's proceedings, and +smiled sadly.</p> + +<p>"How has Ricky turned out?" he asked. "What sort +of a character has he?"</p> + +<p>"The poor boy is ruined by his excessive anxiety about +it. Character? he has the character of a bullet with a +treble charge of powder behind it. Enthusiasm is the +powder. That boy could get up an enthusiasm for the +maiden days of Ops! He was going to reform the world, +after your fashion, Austin,—you have something to +answer for. Unfortunately he began with the feminine +side of it. Cupid proud of Ph[oe]bus newly slain, or Pluto +wishing to people his kingdom, if you like, put it into +the soft head of one of the guileless grateful creatures to +kiss him for his good work. Oh, horror! he never expected +that. Conceive the System in the flesh, and you have +our Richard. The consequence is, that this male Peri +refuses to enter his Paradise, though the gates are open +for him, the trumpets blow, and the fair unspotted one +awaits him fruitful within. We heard of him last that +he was trying the German waters—preparatory to his +undertaking the release of Italy from the subjugation of +the Teuton. Let's hope they'll wash him. He is in the +company of Lady Judith Felle—your old friend, the +ardent female Radical who married the decrepit lord to +carry out her principles. They always marry English +lords, or foreign princes. I admire their tactics."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Judith is bad for him in such a state. I like her, but +she was always too sentimental," said Austin.</p> + +<p>"Sentiment made her marry the old lord, I suppose? I +like her <i>for</i> her sentiment, Austin. Sentimental people +are sure to live long and die fat. Feeling, that's the +slayer, coz. Sentiment! 'tis the cajolery of existence: the +soft bloom which whoso weareth, he or she is enviable. +Would that I had more!"</p> + +<p>"You're not much changed, Adrian."</p> + +<p>"I'm not a Radical, Austin."</p> + +<p>Further inquiries, responded to in Adrian's figurative +speech, instructed Austin that the baronet was waiting for +his son, in a posture of statuesque offended paternity, +before he would receive his daughter-in-law and grandson. +That was what Adrian meant by the efforts of the System +to swallow the baby.</p> + +<p>"We're in a tangle," said the wise youth. "Time will +extricate us, I presume, or what is the venerable signor +good for?"</p> + +<p>Austin mused some minutes, and asked for Lucy's place +of residence.</p> + +<p>"We'll go to her by and by," said Adrian.</p> + +<p>"I shall go and see her now," said Austin.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll go and order the dinner first, coz."</p> + +<p>"Give me her address."</p> + +<p>"Really, Austin, you carry matters with too long a +beard," Adrian objected. "Don't you care what you eat?" +he roared hoarsely, looking humorously hurt. "I daresay +not. A slice out of him that's handy—sauce du ciel! Go, +batten on the baby, cannibal. Dinner at seven."</p> + +<p>Adrian gave him his own address, and Lucy's, and +strolled off to do the better thing.</p> + +<p>Overnight Mrs. Berry had observed a long stranger in +her tea-cup. Posting him on her fingers and starting him +with a smack, he had vaulted lightly and thereby indicated +that he was positively coming the next day. She forgot +him in the bustle of her duties and the absorption of her +faculties in thoughts of the incomparable stranger Lucy +had presented to the world, till a knock at the street-door +reminded her. "There he is!" she cried, as she ran to +open to him. "There's my stranger come!" Never was a +woman's faith in omens so justified. The stranger desired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> +to see Mrs. Richard Feverel. He said his name was Mr. +Austin Wentworth. Mrs. Berry clasped her hands, exclaiming, +"Come at last!" and ran bolt out of the house to +look up and down the street. Presently she returned with +many excuses for her rudeness, saying: "I expected to see +her comin' home, Mr. Wentworth. Every day twice a day +she go out to give her blessed angel an airing. No leavin' +the child with nursemaids for her! She <i>is</i> a mother! and +good milk, too, thank the Lord! though her heart's so +low."</p> + +<p>Indoors Mrs. Berry stated who she was, related the history +of the young couple, and her participation in it, and +admired the beard. "Though I'd swear you don't wear it +for ornament, now!" she said, having in the first impulse +designed a stroke at man's vanity.</p> + +<p>Ultimately Mrs. Berry spoke of the family complication, +and with dejected head and joined hands threw out dark +hints about Richard.</p> + +<p>While Austin was giving his cheerfuller views of the +case, Lucy came in, preceding the baby.</p> + +<p>"I am Austin Wentworth," he said, taking her hand. +They read each other's faces, these two, and smiled kinship.</p> + +<p>"Your name is Lucy?"</p> + +<p>She affirmed it softly.</p> + +<p>"And mine is Austin, as you know."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry allowed time for Lucy's charms to subdue +him, and presented Richard's representative, who, seeing +a new face, suffered himself to be contemplated before +he commenced crying aloud and knocking at the doors of +Nature for something that was due to him.</p> + +<p>"Ain't he a lusty darlin'?" says Mrs. Berry. "Ain't +he like his own father? There can't be no doubt about +zoo, zoo pitty pet. Look at his fists. Ain't he got passion? +Ain't he a splendid roarer? Oh!" and she went off +rapturously into baby-language.</p> + +<p>A fine boy, certainly. Mrs. Berry exhibited his legs for +further proof, desiring Austin's confirmation as to their +being dumplings.</p> + +<p>Lucy murmured a word of excuse, and bore the splendid +roarer out of the room.</p> + +<p>"She might a done it here," said Mrs. Berry. "There's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> +no prettier sight, I say. If her dear husband could but see +that! He's off in his heroics—he want to be doin' all +sort o' things: I say he'll never do anything grander than +that baby. You should 'a seen her uncle over that baby—he +came here, for I said, you <i>shall</i> see your own fam'ly, +my dear, and so she thinks. He come, and he laughed +over the baby in the joy of his heart, poor man! he cried, +he did. You should see that Mr. Thompson, Mr. Wentworth—a +friend o' Mr. Richard's, and a very modest-minded +young gentleman—he worships her in his innocence. +It's a sight to see him with that baby. My belief +is he's unhappy 'cause he can't anyways be nurse-maid to +him. O Mr. Wentworth! what <i>do</i> you think of her, sir?"</p> + +<p>Austin's reply was as satisfactory as a man's poor speech +could make it. He heard that Lady Feverel was in the +house, and Mrs. Berry prepared the way for him to pay +his respects to her. Then Mrs. Berry ran to Lucy, and +the house buzzed with new life. The simple creatures felt +in Austin's presence something good among them. "He +don't speak much," said Mrs. Berry, "but I see by his eye +he mean a deal. He ain't one o' yer long-word gentry, +who's all gay deceivers, every one of 'em."</p> + +<p>Lucy pressed the hearty suckling into her breast. "I +wonder what he thinks of me, Mrs. Berry? I could not +speak to him. I loved him before I saw him. I knew +what his face was like."</p> + +<p>"He looks proper even with a beard, and that's a trial +for a virtuous man," said Mrs. Berry. "One sees straight +<i>through</i> the hair with him. Think! he'll think what any +<i>man</i>'d think—you a-suckin' spite o' all your sorrow, my +sweet,—and my Berry talkin' of his Roman matrons!—here's +a English wife'll match 'em all! that's what he +thinks. And now that leetle dark under yer eye'll clear, +my darlin', now he've come."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry looked to no more than that; Lucy to no +more than the peace she had in being near Richard's best +friend. When she sat down to tea it was with a sense that +the little room that held her was her home perhaps for +many a day.</p> + +<p>A chop procured and cooked by Mrs. Berry formed +Austin's dinner. During the meal he entertained them +with anecdotes of his travels. Poor Lucy had no temptation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> +to try to conquer Austin. That heroic weakness +of hers was gone.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry had said: "Three cups—I goes no further," +and Lucy had rejected the proffer of more tea, when +Austin, who was in the thick of a Brazilian forest, asked +her if she was a good traveller.</p> + +<p>"I mean, can you start at a minute's notice?"</p> + +<p>Lucy hesitated, and then said, "Yes," decisively, to +which Mrs. Berry added, that she was not a "luggage-woman."</p> + +<p>"There used to be a train at seven o'clock," Austin +remarked, consulting his watch.</p> + +<p>The two women were silent.</p> + +<p>"Could you get ready to come with me to Raynham +in ten minutes?"</p> + +<p>Austin looked as if he had asked a commonplace question.</p> + +<p>Lucy's lips parted to speak. She could not answer.</p> + +<p>Loud rattled the teaboard to Mrs. Berry's dropping +hands.</p> + +<p>"Joy and deliverance!" she exclaimed with a foundering +voice.</p> + +<p>"Will you come?" Austin kindly asked again.</p> + +<p>Lucy tried to stop her beating heart, as she answered, +"Yes." Mrs. Berry cunningly pretended to interpret the +irresolution in her tones with a mighty whisper: "She's +thinking what's to be done with baby."</p> + +<p>"He must learn to travel," said Austin.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Mrs. Berry, "and I'll be his nuss, and bear +him, a sweet! Oh! and think of it! me nurse-maid once +more at Raynham Abbey! but it's nurse-woman now, you +must say. Let us be goin' on the spot."</p> + +<p>She started up and away in hot haste, fearing delay +would cool the heaven-sent resolve. Austin smiled, eying +his watch and Lucy alternately. She was wishing to ask +a multitude of questions. His face reassured her, and +saying: "I will be dressed instantly," she also left the +room. Talking, bustling, preparing, wrapping up my +lord, and looking to their neatnesses, they were nevertheless +ready within the time prescribed by Austin, and +Mrs. Berry stood humming over the baby. "He'll sleep +it through," she said. "He's had enough for an alderman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> +and goes to sleep sound after his dinner, he do, a +duck!" Before they departed, Lucy ran up to Lady +Feverel. She returned for the small one.</p> + +<p>"One moment, Mr. Wentworth!"</p> + +<p>"Just two," said Austin.</p> + +<p>Master Richard was taken up, and when Lucy came +back her eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>"She thinks she is never to see him again, Mr. Wentworth."</p> + +<p>"She shall," Austin said simply.</p> + +<p>Off they went, and with Austin near her, Lucy forgot +to dwell at all upon the great act of courage she was +performing.</p> + +<p>"I do hope baby will not wake," was her chief solicitude.</p> + +<p>"He!" cries nurse-woman Berry from the rear, "his little +tum-tum's <i>as</i> tight <i>as</i> he can hold, a pet! a lamb! a bird! +a beauty! and ye may take yer oath he never wakes till +that's slack. He've got character of his own, a blessed!"</p> + +<p>There are some tremendous citadels that only want to be +taken by storm. The baronet sat alone in his library, sick +of resistance, and rejoicing in the pride of no surrender; +a terror to his friends and to himself. Hearing Austin's +name sonorously pronounced by the man of calves, he +looked up from his book, and held out his hand. "Glad +to see you, Austin." His appearance betokened complete +security. The next minute he found himself escaladed.</p> + +<p>It was a cry from Mrs. Berry that told him others were +in the room besides Austin. Lucy stood a little behind +the lamp; Mrs. Berry close to the door. The door was +half open, and passing through it might be seen the petrified +figure of a fine man. The baronet glancing over the +lamp rose at Mrs. Berry's signification of a woman's personality. +Austin stepped back and led Lucy to him by +the hand. "I have brought Richard's wife, sir," he said +with a pleased, perfectly uncalculating, countenance, that +was disarming. Very pale and trembling Lucy bowed. +She felt her two hands taken, and heard a kind voice. +Could it be possible it belonged to the dreadful father +of her husband? She lifted her eyes nervously: her hands +were still detained. The baronet contemplated Richard's +choice. Had he ever had a rivalry with those pure eyes? +He saw the pain of her position shooting across her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> +brows, and, uttering gentle inquiries as to her health, +placed her in a seat. Mrs. Berry had already fallen into +a chair.</p> + +<p>"What aspect do you like for your bedroom?—East?" +said the baronet.</p> + +<p>Lucy was asking herself wonderingly: "Am I to stay?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you had better take to Richard's room at +once," he pursued. "You have the Lobourne valley there +and a good morning air, and will feel more at home."</p> + +<p>Lucy's colour mounted. Mrs. Berry gave a short cough, +as one who should say, "The day is ours!" Undoubtedly—strange +as it was to think it—the fortress was carried.</p> + +<p>"Lucy is rather tired," said Austin, and to hear her +Christian name thus bravely spoken brought grateful +dew to her eyes.</p> + +<p>The baronet was about to touch the bell. "But have +you come alone?" he asked.</p> + +<p>At this Mrs. Berry came forward. Not immediately: +it seemed to require effort for her to move, and when she +was within the region of the lamp, her agitation could not +escape notice. The blissful bundle shook in her arms.</p> + +<p>"By the way, what is he to me?" Austin inquired +generally as he went and unveiled the younger hope of +Raynham. "My relationship is not so defined as yours, +sir."</p> + +<p>An observer might have supposed that the baronet +peeped at his grandson with the courteous indifference +of one who merely wished to compliment the mother of +anybody's child.</p> + +<p>"I really think he's like Richard," Austin laughed. +Lucy looked: I am sure he is!</p> + +<p>"As like as one to one," Mrs. Berry murmured feebly; +but Grandpapa not speaking she thought it incumbent +on her to pluck up. "And he's as healthy as his father +was, Sir Austin—spite o' the might 'a beens. Reg'lar +as the clock! We never want a clock since he come. +We knows the hour o' the day, and <i>of</i> the night."</p> + +<p>"You nurse him yourself, of course?" the baronet spoke +to Lucy, and was satisfied on that point.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry was going to display his prodigious legs. +Lucy, fearing the consequent effect on the prodigious +lungs, begged her not to wake him. "'T'd take a deal to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> +do that," said Mrs. Berry, and harped on Master Richard's +health and the small wonder it was that he enjoyed it, +considering the superior quality of his diet, and the lavish +attentions of his mother, and then suddenly fell silent on +a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>"He looks healthy," said the baronet, "but I am not a +judge of babies."</p> + +<p>Thus, having capitulated, Raynham chose to acknowledge +its new commandant, who was now borne away, under +the directions of the housekeeper, to occupy the room +Richard had slept in when an infant.</p> + +<p>Austin cast no thought on his success. The baronet +said: "She is extremely well-looking." He replied: "A +person you take to at once." There it ended.</p> + +<p>But a much more animated colloquy was taking place +aloft, where Lucy and Mrs. Berry sat alone. Lucy expected +her to talk about the reception they had met with, +and the house, and the peculiarities of the rooms, and +the solid happiness that seemed in store. Mrs. Berry all +the while would persist in consulting the looking-glass. +Her first distinct answer was, "My dear! tell me candid, +how do I look?"</p> + +<p>"Very nice indeed, Mrs. Berry; but could you have believed +he would be so kind, so considerate?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure I looked a frump," returned Mrs. Berry. +"Oh dear! two birds at a shot. What <i>do</i> you think, now?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw so wonderful a likeness," says Lucy.</p> + +<p>"Likeness! look at me." Mrs. Berry was trembling and +hot in the palms.</p> + +<p>"You're very feverish, dear Berry. What can it be?"</p> + +<p>"Ain't it like the love-flutters of a young gal, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Go to bed, Berry, dear," says Lucy, pouting in her soft +caressing way. "I will undress you, and see to you, dear +heart! You've had so much excitement."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" Berry laughed hysterically; "she thinks it's +about this business of hers. Why, it's child's-play, my +darlin'. But I didn't look for tragedy, to-night. Sleep in +this house I can't, my love!"</p> + +<p>Lucy was astonished. "Not sleep here, Mrs. Berry?—Oh! +why, you silly old thing? I know."</p> + +<p>"Do ye!" said Mrs. Berry, with a sceptical nose.</p> + +<p>"You're afraid of ghosts."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Belike I am when they're six foot two in their shoes, +and bellows when you stick a pin into their calves. I +seen my Berry!"</p> + +<p>"Your husband?"</p> + +<p>"Large as life!"</p> + +<p>Lucy meditated on optical delusions, but Mrs. Berry +described him as the Colossus who had marched them +into the library, and vowed that he had recognized her and +quaked. "Time ain't aged him," said Mrs. Berry, "whereas +me! he've got his excuse now. I <i>know</i> I look a frump."</p> + +<p>Lucy kissed her: "You look the nicest, dearest old +thing."</p> + +<p>"You may say an old thing, my dear."</p> + +<p>"And your husband is really here?"</p> + +<p>"Berry's below!"</p> + +<p>Profoundly uttered as this was, it chased every vestige +of incredulity.</p> + +<p>"What will you do, Mrs. Berry?"</p> + +<p>"Go, my dear. Leave him to be happy in his own way. +It's over atween us, I see that. When I entered the house +I felt there was something comin' over me, and lo and +behold ye! no sooner was we in the hall-passage—if it +hadn't been for that blessed infant I should 'a dropped. +I must 'a known his step, for my heart began thumpin', +and I knew I hadn't got my hair straight—that Mr. +Wentworth was in such a hurry—nor my best gown. I +knew he'd scorn me. He hates frumps."</p> + +<p>"Scorn you!" cried Lucy, angrily. "He who has behaved +so wickedly!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry attempted to rise. "I may as well go at +once," she whimpered. "If I see him I shall only be disgracin' +of myself. I feel it all on my side already. Did +ye mark him, my dear? I know I was vexin' to him at +times, I was. Those big men are se touchy about their +dignity—nat'ral. Hark at me! I'm goin' all soft in a +minute. Let me leave the house, my dear. I daresay +it was good half my fault. Young women don't understand +men sufficient—not altogether—and I was a young +woman then; and then what they goes and does they +ain't quite answerable for: they feel, I daresay, pushed +from behind. Yes. I'll go. I'm a frump. I'll go. +'Tain't in natur' for me to sleep in the same house."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucy laid her hands on Mrs. Berry's shoulders, and +forcibly fixed her in her seat. "Leave baby, naughty +woman? I tell you he shall come to you, and fall on +his knees to you and beg your forgiveness."</p> + +<p>"Berry on his knees!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And he shall beg and pray you to forgive him."</p> + +<p>"If you get more from Martin Berry than breath-away +words, great'll be my wonder!" said Mrs. Berry.</p> + +<p>"We will see," said Lucy, thoroughly determined to do +something for the good creature that had befriended her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry examined her gown. "Won't it seem we're +runnin' after him?" she murmured faintly.</p> + +<p>"He is your husband, Mrs. Berry. He may be wanting +to come to you now."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Where is all I was goin' to say to that man when +we met!" Mrs. Berry ejaculated. Lucy had left the room.</p> + +<p>On the landing outside the door Lucy met a lady dressed +in black, who stopped her and asked if she was Richard's +wife, and kissed her, passing from her immediately. Lucy +despatched a message for Austin, and related the Berry +history. Austin sent for the great man, and said: "Do +you know your wife is here?" Before Berry had time to +draw himself up to enunciate his longest, he was requested +to step upstairs, and as his young mistress at once +led the way, Berry could not refuse to put his legs in +motion and carry the stately edifice aloft.</p> + +<p>Of the interview Mrs. Berry gave Lucy a slight sketch +that night. "He began in the old way, my dear, and says +I, a true heart and plain words, Martin Berry. So there +he cuts himself and his Johnson short, and down he goes—down +<i>on</i> his knees. I never could 'a believed it. I +kep my dignity as a woman till I see that sight, but +that done for me. I was a ripe apple in his arms 'fore +I knew where I was. There's something about a fine +man on his knees that's too much for us women. And +it reely was the penitent on his two knees, not the lover +on his one. If he mean it! But ah! what do you +think he begs of me, my dear?—not to make it known +in the house just yet! I can't, I can't say that look well."</p> + +<p>Lucy attributed it to his sense of shame at his conduct, +and Mrs. Berry did her best to look on it in that light.</p> + +<p>"Did the bar'net kiss ye when you wished him good-night?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> +she asked. Lucy said he had not. "Then bide +awake as long as ye can," was Mrs. Berry's rejoinder. +"And now let us pray blessings on that simple-speaking +gentleman who does so much 'cause he says so little."</p> + +<p>Like many other natural people, Mrs. Berry was only +silly where her own soft heart was concerned. As she +secretly anticipated, the baronet came into her room when +all was quiet. She saw him go and bend over Richard +the Second, and remain earnestly watching him. He +then went to the half-opened door of the room where +Lucy slept, leaned his ear a moment, knocked gently, +and entered. Mrs. Berry heard low words interchanging +within. She could not catch a syllable, yet she would +have sworn to the context. "He've called her his daughter, +promised her happiness, and given a father's kiss to +her." When Sir Austin passed out she was in a deep +sleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLII</h2> + +<h3>NATURE SPEAKS</h3> + + +<p>Briareus reddening angrily over the sea—what is that +vaporous Titan? And Hesper set in his rosy garland—why +looks he so implacably sweet? It is that one has +left that bright home to go forth and do cloudy work, +and he has got a stain with which he dare not return. +Far in the West fair Lucy beckons him to come. Ah, +heaven! if he might! How strong and fierce the temptation +is! how subtle the sleepless desire! it drugs his +reason, his honour. For he loves her; she is still the +first and only woman to him. Otherwise would this black +spot be hell to him? otherwise would his limbs be chained +while her arms are spread open to him. And if he +loves her, why then what is one fall in the pit, or a +thousand? Is not love the password to that beckoning +bliss? So may we say; but here is one whose body has +been made a temple to him, and it is desecrated.</p> + +<p>A temple, and desecrated! For what is it fit for but +for a dance of devils? His education has thus wrought +him to think.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span></p> + +<p>He can blame nothing but his own baseness. But to +feel base and accept the bliss that beckons—he has not +fallen so low as that.</p> + +<p>Ah, happy English home! sweet wife! what mad miserable +Wisp of the Fancy led him away from you, high in +his conceit? Poor wretch! that thought to be he of the +hundred hands, and war against the absolute Gods. Jove +whispered a light commission to the Laughing Dame; she +met him; and how did he shake Olympus? with laughter?</p> + +<p>Sure it were better to be Orestes, the Furies howling +in his ears, than one called to by a heavenly soul from +whom he is for ever outcast. He has not the oblivion +of madness. Clothed in the lights of his first passion, +robed in the splendour of old skies, she meets him +everywhere; morning, evening, night, she shines above +him; waylays him suddenly in forest depths; drops palpably +on his heart. At moments he forgets; he rushes to +embrace her; calls her his beloved, and lo, her innocent +kiss brings agony of shame to his face.</p> + +<p>Daily the struggle endured. His father wrote to him, +begging him by the love he had for him to return. From +that hour Richard burnt unread all the letters he received. +He knew too well how easily he could persuade himself: +words from without might tempt him and quite extinguish +the spark of honourable feeling that tortured him, and +that he clung to in desperate self-vindication.</p> + +<p>To arrest young gentlemen on the downward slope is +both a dangerous and thankless office. It is, nevertheless, +one that fair women greatly prize, and certain of them +professionally follow. Lady Judith, as far as her sex +would permit, was also of the Titans in their battle +against the absolute Gods; for which purpose, mark you, +she had married a lord incapable in all save his acres. +Her achievements she kept to her own mind: she did +not look happy over them. She met Richard accidentally +in Paris; she saw his state; she let him learn that she +alone on earth understood him. The consequence was +that he was forthwith enrolled in her train. It soothed +him to be near a woman. Did she venture her guess +as to the cause of his conduct, she blotted it out with a +facility women have, and cast on it a melancholy hue +he was taught to participate in. She spoke of sorrows,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> +personal sorrows, such as he might speak of his—vaguely, +and with self-blame. And she understood him. How +the dark unfathomed wealth within us gleams to a +woman's eye! We are at compound interest immediately: +so much richer than we knew!—almost as rich as +we dreamed! But then the instant we are away from +her we find ourselves bankrupt, beggared. How is that? +We do not ask. We hurry to her and bask hungrily in +her orbs. The eye must be feminine to be thus creative: +I cannot say why. Lady Judith understood Richard, +and he feeling infinitely vile, somehow held to her more +feverishly, as one who dreaded the worst in missing her. +The spirit must rest; he was weak with what he suffered.</p> + +<p>Austin found them among the hills of Nassau in Rhineland: +Titans, male and female, who had not displaced +Jove, and were now adrift, prone on floods of sentiment. +The blue-frocked peasant swinging behind his oxen of a +morning, the gaily-kerchiefed fruit-woman, the jackass-driver, +even the doctor of those regions, have done more +for their fellows. Horrible reflection! Lady Judith is +serene above it, but it frets at Richard when he is out +of her shadow. Often wretchedly he watches the young +men of his own age trooping to their work. Not cloud-work +theirs! Work solid, unambitious, fruitful!</p> + +<p>Lady Judith had a nobler in prospect for the hero. He +gaped blindfolded for anything, and she gave him the +map of Europe in tatters. He swallowed it comfortably. +It was an intoxicating cordial. Himself on horseback +over-riding wrecks of Empires! Well might common +sense cower with the meaner animals at the picture. +Tacitly they agreed to recast the civilized globe. The +quality of vapour is to melt and shape itself anew; but +it is never the quality of vapour to reassume the same +shapes. Briareus of the hundred unoccupied hands may +turn to a monstrous donkey with his hind legs aloft, +or twenty thousand jabbering apes. The phantasmic +groupings of the young brain are very like those we see +in the skies, and equally the sport of the wind. Lady +Judith blew. There was plenty of vapour in him, and +it always resolved into some shape or other. You that +mark those clouds of eventide, and know youth, will see +the similitude: it will not be strange, it will barely seem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> +foolish to you, that a young man of Richard's age, Richard's +education and position, should be in this wild state. +Had he not been nursed to believe he was born for +great things? Did she not say she was sure of it? And +to feel base, yet born for better, is enough to make one +grasp at anything cloudy. Suppose the hero with a game +leg. How intense is his faith in quacks! with what a +passion of longing is he not seized to break somebody's +head! They spoke of Italy in low voices. "The time +will come," said she. "And I shall be ready," said he. +What rank was he to take in the liberating army? Captain, +colonel, general in chief, or simple private? Here, +as became him, he was much more positive and specific +than she was. Simple private, he said. Yet he saw himself +caracoling on horseback. Private in the cavalry, then, +of course. Private in the cavalry over-riding wrecks of +Empires. She looked forth under her brows with mournful +indistinctness at that object in the distance. They +read Petrarch to get up the necessary fires. Italia mia! +Vain indeed was this speaking to those thick and mortal +wounds in her fair body, but their sighs went with the +Tiber, and Arno, and the Po, and their hands joined. +Who has not wept for Italy? I see the aspirations of +a world arise for her, thick and frequent as the puffs +of smoke from cigars of Pannonian sentries!</p> + +<p>So when Austin came Richard said he could not leave +Lady Judith, Lady Judith said she could not part with +him. For his sake, mind! This Richard verified. Perhaps +he had reason to be grateful. The high road of +Folly may have led him from one that terminates worse. +He is foolish, God knows; but for my part I will not +laugh at the hero because he has not got his occasion. +Meet him when he is, as it were, anointed by his occasion, +and he is no laughing matter.</p> + +<p>Richard felt his safety in this which, to please the +world, we must term folly. Exhalation of vapours was +a wholesome process to him, and somebody who gave them +shape and hue a beneficent Iris. He told Austin plainly +he could not leave her, and did not anticipate the day +when he could.</p> + +<p>"Why can't you go to your wife, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"For a reason you would be the first to approve, Austin."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span></p> + +<p>He welcomed Austin with every show of manly tenderness, +and sadness at heart. Austin he had always associated +with his Lucy in that Hesperian palace of the +West. Austin waited patiently. Lady Judith's old lord +played on all the baths in Nassau without evoking the +tune of health. Whithersoever he listed she changed her +abode. So admirable a wife was to be pardoned for +espousing an old man. She was an enthusiast even in +her connubial duties. She had the brows of an enthusiast. +With occasion she might have been a Charlotte Corday. +So let her also be shielded from the ban of ridicule. Nonsense +of enthusiasts is very different from nonsense of +ninnies. She was truly a high-minded person, of that +order who always do what they see to be right, and always +have confidence in their optics. She was not unworthy +of a young man's admiration, if she was unfit +to be his guide. She resumed her ancient intimacy with +Austin easily, while she preserved her new footing with +Richard. She and Austin were not unlike, only Austin +never dreamed, and had not married an old lord.</p> + +<p>The three were walking on the bridge at Limburg on +the Lahn, where the shadow of a stone bishop is thrown +by the moonlight on the water brawling over slabs of +slate. A woman passed them bearing in her arms a baby, +whose mighty size drew their attention.</p> + +<p>"What a wopper!" Richard laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, that is a fine fellow," said Austin, "but I don't +think he's much bigger than your boy."</p> + +<p>"He'll do for a nineteenth-century Arminius," Richard +was saying. Then he looked at Austin.</p> + +<p>"What was that you said?" Lady Judith asked of +Austin.</p> + +<p>"What have I said that deserves to be repeated?" Austin +counterqueried quite innocently.</p> + +<p>"Richard has a son?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't know it?"</p> + +<p>"His modesty goes very far," said Lady Judith, sweeping +the shadow of a curtsey to Richard's paternity.</p> + +<p>Richard's heart throbbed with violence. He looked +again in Austin's face. Austin took it so much as a +matter of course that he said nothing more on the subject.</p> + +<p>"Well!" murmured Lady Judith.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the two men were alone, Richard said in a quick +voice: "Austin! you were in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't know it, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why, they all wrote to you. Lucy wrote to you: your +father, your aunt. I believe Adrian wrote too."</p> + +<p>"I tore up their letters," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"He's a noble fellow, I can tell you. You've nothing +to be ashamed of. He'll soon be coming to ask about you. +I made sure you knew."</p> + +<p>"No, I never knew." Richard walked away, and then +said: "What is he like?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he really is like you, but he has his mother's +eyes."</p> + +<p>"And she's——"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I think the child has kept her well."</p> + +<p>"They're both at Raynham?"</p> + +<p>"Both."</p> + +<p>Hence fantastic vapours! What are ye to this! Where +are the dreams of the hero when he learns he has a child? +Nature is taking him to her bosom. She will speak presently. +Every domesticated boor in these hills can boast +the same, yet marvels the hero at none of his visioned +prodigies as he does when he comes to hear of this most +common performance. A father? Richard fixed his eyes +as if he were trying to make out the lineaments of his +child.</p> + +<p>Telling Austin he would be back in a few minutes, he +sallied into the air, and walked on and on. "A father!" +he kept repeating to himself: "a child!" And though he +knew it not, he was striking the key-notes of Nature. But +he did know of a singular harmony that suddenly burst +over his whole being.</p> + +<p>The moon was surpassingly bright: the summer air +heavy and still. He left the high road and pierced into +the forest. His walk was rapid: the leaves on the trees +brushed his cheeks; the dead leaves heaped in the dells +noised to his feet. Something of a religious joy—a +strange sacred pleasure—was in him. By degrees it wore; +he remembered himself: and now he was possessed by +a proportionate anguish. A father! he dared never see +his child. And he had no longer his phantasies to fall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> +upon. He was utterly bare to his sin. In his troubled +mind it seemed to him that Clare looked down on him—Clare +who saw him as he was; and that to her eyes it +would be infamy for him to go and print his kiss upon +his child. Then came stern efforts to command his misery +and make the nerves of his face iron.</p> + +<p>By the log of an ancient tree half buried in dead leaves +of past summers, beside a brook, he halted as one who +had reached his journey's end. There he discovered he +had a companion in Lady Judith's little dog. He gave +the friendly animal a pat of recognition and both were +silent in the forest-silence.</p> + +<p>It was impossible for Richard to return; his heart was +surcharged. He must advance, and on he footed, the +little dog following.</p> + +<p>An oppressive slumber hung about the forest-branches. +In the dells and on the heights was the same dead heat. +Here where the brook tinkled it was no cool-lipped sound, +but metallic, and without the spirit of water. Yonder in +a space of moonlight on lush grass, the beams were as +white fire to sight and feeling. No haze spread around. +The valleys were clear, defined to the shadows of their +verges; the distances sharply distinct, and with the +colours of day but slightly softened. Richard beheld a +roe moving across a slope of sward far out of rifle-mark. +The breathless silence was significant, yet the moon shone +in a broad blue heaven. Tongue out of mouth trotted the +little dog after him; couched panting when he stopped +an instant; rose weariedly when he started afresh. Now +and then a large white night-moth flitted through the +dusk of the forest.</p> + +<p>On a barren corner of the wooded highland looking inland +stood grey topless ruins set in nettles and rank +grass-blades. Richard mechanically sat down on the +crumbling flints to rest, and listened to the panting of +the dog. Sprinkled at his feet were emerald lights: +hundreds of glow-worms studded the dark dry ground.</p> + +<p>He sat and eyed them, thinking not at all. His energies +were expended in action. He sat as a part of the ruins, +and the moon turned his shadow Westward from the +South. Overhead, as she declined, long ripples of silver +cloud were imperceptibly stealing toward her. They were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> +the van of a tempest. He did not observe them or the +leaves beginning to chatter. When he again pursued his +course with his face to the Rhine, a huge mountain +appeared to rise sheer over him, and he had it in his +mind to scale it. He got no nearer to the base of it +for all his vigorous outstepping. The ground began to +dip; he lost sight of the sky. Then heavy thunder-drops +struck his cheek, the leaves were singing, the earth +breathed, it was black before him and behind. All at once +the thunder spoke. The mountain he had marked was +bursting over him.</p> + +<p>Up started the whole forest in violet fire. He saw the +country at the foot of the hills to the bounding Rhine +gleam, quiver, extinguished. Then there were pauses; +and the lightning seemed as the eye of heaven, and the +thunder as the tongue of heaven, each alternately addressing +him; filling him with awful rapture. Alone there—sole +human creature among the grandeurs and mysteries +of storm—he felt the representative of his kind, and his +spirits rose, and marched, and exulted, let it be glory, +let it be ruin! Lower down the lightened abysses of air +rolled the wrathful crash: then white thrusts of light +were darted from the sky, and great curving ferns, seen +steadfast in pallor a second, were supernaturally agitated, +and vanished. Then a shrill song roused in the leaves +and the herbage. Prolonged and louder it sounded, as +deeper and heavier the deluge pressed. A mighty force +of water satisfied the desire of the earth. Even in this, +drenched as he was by the first outpouring, Richard had +a savage pleasure. Keeping in motion, he was scarcely +conscious of the wet, and the grateful breath of the weeds +was refreshing. Suddenly he stopped short, lifting a +curious nostril. He fancied he smelt meadow-sweet. He +had never seen the flower in Rhineland—never thought +of it; and it would hardly be met with in a forest. He +was sure he smelt it fresh in dews. His little companion +wagged a miserable wet tail some way in advance. He +went on slowly, thinking indistinctly. After two or three +steps he stooped and stretched out his hand to feel for +the flower, having, he knew not why, a strong wish to +verify its growth there. Groping about, his hand encountered +something warm that started at his touch, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span> +he, with the instinct we have, seized it, and lifted it to +look at it. The creature was very small, evidently quite +young. Richard's eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, +were able to discern it for what it was, a tiny leveret, +and he supposed that the dog had probably frightened +its dam just before he found it. He put the little thing +on one hand in his breast, and stepped out rapidly as +before.</p> + +<p>The rain was now steady; from every tree a fountain +poured. So cool and easy had his mind become that +he was speculating on what kind of shelter the birds +could find, and how the butterflies and moths saved their +coloured wings from washing. Folded close they might +hang under a leaf, he thought. Lovingly he looked into +the dripping darkness of the coverts on each side, as +one of their children. He was next musing on a strange +sensation he experienced. It ran up one arm with an +indescribable thrill, but communicated nothing to his +heart. It was purely physical, ceased for a time, and +recommenced, till he had it all through his blood, wonderfully +thrilling. He grew aware that the little thing he +carried in his breast was licking his hand there. The +small rough tongue going over and over the palm of +his hand produced the strange sensation he felt. Now +that he knew the cause, the marvel ended; but now that +he knew the cause, his heart was touched and made +more of it. The gentle scraping continued without intermission +as on he walked. What did it say to him? +Human tongue could not have said so much just then.</p> + +<p>A pale grey light on the skirts of the flying tempest displayed +the dawn. Richard was walking hurriedly. The +green drenched weeds lay all about in his path, bent +thick, and the forest drooped glimmeringly. Impelled +as a man who feels a revelation mounting obscurely to +his brain, Richard was passing one of these little forest-chapels, +hung with votive wreaths, where the peasant +halts to kneel and pray. Cold, still, in the twilight it +stood, rain-drops pattering round it. He looked within, +and saw the Virgin holding her Child. He moved by. +But not many steps had he gone ere his strength went +out of him, and he shuddered. What was it? He asked +not. He was in other hands. Vivid as lightning the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> +Spirit of Life illumined him. He felt in his heart the +cry of his child, his darling's touch. With shut eyes he +saw them both. They drew him from the depths; they +led him a blind and tottering man. And as they led him +he had a sense of purification so sweet he shuddered +again and again.</p> + +<p>When he looked out from his trance on the breathing +world, the small birds hopped and chirped: warm fresh +sunlight was over all the hills. He was on the edge of +the forest, entering a plain clothed with ripe corn under +a spacious morning sky.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLIII</h2> + +<h3>AGAIN THE MAGIAN CONFLICT</h3> + + +<p>They heard at Raynham that Richard was coming. +Lucy had the news first in a letter from Ripton Thompson, +who met him at Bonn. Ripton did not say that he +had employed his vacation holiday on purpose to use his +efforts to induce his dear friend to return to his wife; +and finding Richard already on his way, of course Ripton +said nothing to him, but affected to be travelling +for his pleasure like any cockney. Richard also wrote +to her. In case she should have gone to the sea he +directed her to send word to his hotel that he might +not lose an hour. His letter was sedate in tone, very +sweet to her. Assisted by the faithful female Berry, she +was conquering an Aphorist.</p> + +<p>"Woman's reason is in the milk of her breasts," was one +of his rough notes, due to an observation of Lucy's +maternal cares. Let us remember, therefore, we men +who have drunk of it largely there, that she has it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry zealously apprised him how early Master +Richard's education had commenced, and the great future +historian he must consequently be. This trait in Lucy +was of itself sufficient to win Sir Austin.</p> + +<p>"Here my plan with Richard was false," he reflected: +"in presuming that anything save blind fortuity would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> +bring him such a mate as he should have." He came to +add: "And has got!"</p> + +<p>He could admit now that instinct had so far beaten +science; for as Richard was coming, as all were to be +happy, his wisdom embraced them all paternally as the +author of their happiness. Between him and Lucy a +tender intimacy grew.</p> + +<p>"I told you she could talk, sir," said Adrian.</p> + +<p>"She thinks!" said the baronet.</p> + +<p>The delicate question how she was to treat her uncle, +he settled generously. Farmer Blaize should come up to +Raynham when he would: Lucy must visit him at least +three times a week. He had Farmer Blaize and Mrs. +Berry to study, and really excellent Aphorisms sprang +from the plain human bases this natural couple presented.</p> + +<p>"It will do us no harm," he thought, "some of the +honest blood of the soil in our veins." And he was +content in musing on the parentage of the little cradled +boy. A common sight for those who had the entry to +the library was the baronet cherishing the hand of his +daughter-in-law.</p> + +<p>So Richard was crossing the sea, and hearts at Raynham +were beating quicker measures as the minutes progressed. +That night he would be with them. Sir Austin +gave Lucy a longer, warmer salute when she came down +to breakfast in the morning. Mrs. Berry waxed thrice +amorous. "It's your second bridals, ye sweet livin' +widow!" she said. "Thanks be the Lord! it's the same +man too! and a baby over the bed-post," she appended +seriously.</p> + +<p>"Strange," Berry declared it to be, "strange I feel none +o' this to my Berry now. All my feelin's o' love seem +t'ave gone into you two sweet chicks."</p> + +<p>In fact, the faithless male Berry complained of being +treated badly, and affected a superb jealousy of the baby; +but the good dame told him that if he suffered at all he +suffered his due. Berry's position was decidedly uncomfortable. +It could not be concealed from the lower household +that he had a wife in the establishment, and for the +complications this gave rise to, his wife would not legitimately +console him. Lucy did intercede, but Mrs. Berry +was obdurate. She averred she would not give up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span> +child till he was weaned. "Then, perhaps," she said +prospectively. "You see I ain't so soft as you thought +for."</p> + +<p>"You're a very unkind, vindictive old woman," said +Lucy.</p> + +<p>"Belike I am," Mrs. Berry was proud to agree. We +like a new character, now and then. Berry had delayed +too long.</p> + +<p>Were it not notorious that the straightlaced prudish +dare not listen to the natural chaste, certain things Mrs. +Berry thought it advisable to impart to the young wife +with regard to Berry's infidelity, and the charity women +should have towards sinful men, might here be reproduced. +Enough that she thought proper to broach the +matter, and cite her own Christian sentiments, now that +she was indifferent in some degree.</p> + +<p>Oily calm is on the sea. At Raynham they look up at +the sky and speculate that Richard is approaching fairly +speeded. He comes to throw himself on his darling's +mercy. Lucy irradiated over forest and sea, tempest and +peace—to her the hero comes humbly. Great is that day +when we see our folly! Ripton and he were the friends +of old. Richard encouraged him to talk of the two he +could be eloquent on, and Ripton, whose secret vanity +was in his powers of speech, never tired of enumerating +Lucy's virtues, and the peculiar attributes of the baby.</p> + +<p>"She did not say a word against me, Rip?"</p> + +<p>"Against you, Richard! The moment she knew she +was to be a mother, she thought of nothing but her +duty to the child. She's one who can't think of herself."</p> + +<p>"You've seen her at Raynham, Rip?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, once. They asked me down. And your father's +so fond of her—I'm sure he thinks no woman like her, +and he's right. She is so lovely, and so good."</p> + +<p>Richard was too full of blame of himself to blame his +father: too British to expose his emotions. Ripton divined +how deep and changed they were by his manner. He +had cast aside the hero, and however Ripton had obeyed +him and looked up to him in the heroic time, he loved +him tenfold now. He told his friend how much Lucy's +mere womanly sweetness and excellence had done for +him, and Richard contrasted his own profitless extravagance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> +with the patient beauty of his dear home angel. +He was not one to take her on the easy terms that +offered. There was that to do which made his cheek +burn as he thought of it, but he was going to do it, +even though it lost her to him. Just to see her and +kneel to her was joy sufficient to sustain him, and warm +his blood in the prospect. They marked the white cliffs +growing over the water. Nearer, the sun made them +lustrous. Houses and people seemed to welcome the wild +youth to common sense, simplicity, and home.</p> + +<p>They were in town by mid-day. Richard had a momentary +idea of not driving to his hotel for letters. After +a short debate he determined to go there. The porter +said he had two letters for Mr. Richard Feverel—one had +been waiting some time. He went to the box and fetched +them. The first Richard opened was from Lucy, and +as he read it, Ripton observed the colour deepen on his +face, while a quivering smile played about his mouth. +He opened the other indifferently. It began without any +form of address. Richard's forehead darkened at the +signature. This letter was in a sloping feminine hand, +and flourished with light strokes all over, like a field +of the bearded barley. Thus it ran:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I know you are in a rage with me because I would +not consent to ruin you, you foolish fellow. What do +you call it? Going to that unpleasant place together. +Thank you, my milliner is not ready yet, and I want to +make a good appearance when I do go. I suppose I +shall have to some day. Your health, Sir Richard. Now +let me speak to you seriously. <i>Go home to your wife +at once.</i> But I know the sort of fellow you are, and I +must be plain with you. Did I ever say I loved you? +You may hate me as much as you please, but I will save +you from being a fool.</p> + +<p>"Now listen to me. You know my relations with Mount. +<i>That beast Brayder</i> offered to pay all my debts and set +me afloat, if I would keep you in town. I declare on +my honour I had no idea why, and I did not agree to it. +But you were such a handsome fellow—I noticed you in +the park before I heard a word of you. But then you +fought shy—you were just as tempting as a girl. You +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span><i>stung</i> me. Do you know what that is? I would make +you care for me, and we know how it ended, without +any intention of mine, I <i>swear</i>. I'd have cut off my hand +rather than do you any harm, upon my honour. Circumstances! +Then I saw it was all up between us. +Brayder came and began to chaff about you. I dealt +the animal a stroke on the face with my riding-whip—I +shut him up pretty quick. Do you think I would let +a man speak about you?—I was going to swear. You +see I remember Dick's lessons. O my God! I do feel +unhappy.—Brayder offered me money. Go and think I +took it, if you like. What do I care what anybody thinks! +Something that blackguard said made me suspicious. I +went down to the Isle of Wight where Mount was, and +your wife was just gone with an old lady who came +and took her away. I should so have liked to see her. +You said, you remember, she would take me as a sister, +and treat me—I laughed at it then. My God! how I +could cry now, if water did any good to a <i>devil</i>, as you +politely call poor me. I called at your house and saw +your man-servant, who said Mount had just been there. +In a minute it struck me. I was sure Mount was after +a woman, but it never struck me that woman was your +wife. Then I saw why they wanted me to keep you +away. I went to Brayder. You know how I hate him. +I made love to the man to get it out of him. Richard! +my word of honour, they have planned to carry her +off, if Mount finds he cannot seduce her. Talk of devils! +He's one; but he is not so bad as Brayder. I cannot +forgive a mean dog his villainy.</p> + +<p>"Now after this, I am quite sure you are too much of +a man to stop away from her another moment. I have +no more to say. I suppose we shall not see each other +again, so good-bye, Dick! I fancy I hear you cursing +me. Why can't you feel like other men on the subject? +But if you were like the rest of them I should not have +cared for you a farthing. I have not worn lilac since +I saw you last. I'll be buried in your colour, Dick. +That will not offend you—will it?</p> + +<p>"You are not going to believe I took the money? If +I thought you thought that—it makes me <i>feel</i> like a +devil only to fancy you think it.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span></p> +<p>"The first time you meet Brayder, <i>cane him publicly</i>.</p> + +<p>"Adieu! Say it's because you don't like his face. I +suppose devils must not say <i>Adieu</i>. Here's plain old +good-bye, then, between you and me. Good-bye, dear +Dick! You won't think that of me?</p> + +<p>"May I eat dry bread to the day of my death if I took +or ever will touch a scrap of their money.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right"><span class="smcap">Bella.</span>"<br /> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Richard folded up the letter silently.</p> + +<p>"Jump into the cab," he said to Ripton.</p> + +<p>"Anything the matter, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The driver received instructions. Richard sat without +speaking. His friend knew that face. He asked whether +there was bad news in the letter. For answer, he had the +lie circumstantial. He ventured to remark that they were +going the wrong way.</p> + +<p>"It's the right way," cried Richard, and his jaws were +hard and square, and his eyes looked heavy and full.</p> + +<p>Ripton said no more, but thought.</p> + +<p>The cabman pulled up at a Club. A gentleman, in +whom Ripton recognized the Hon. Peter Brayder, was +just then swinging a leg over his horse, with one foot +in the stirrup. Hearing his name called, the Hon. Peter +turned about, and stretched an affable hand.</p> + +<p>"Is Mountfalcon in town?" said Richard, taking the +horse's reins instead of the gentlemanly hand. His voice +and aspect were quite friendly.</p> + +<p>"Mount?" Brayder replied, curiously watching the action; +"yes. He's off this evening."</p> + +<p>"He <i>is</i> in town?" Richard released his horse. "I want +to see him. Where is he?"</p> + +<p>The young man looked pleasant: that which might +have aroused Brayder's suspicions was an old affair in +parasitical register by this time. "Want to see him? +What about?" he said carelessly, and gave the address.</p> + +<p>"By the way," he sang out, "we thought of putting +your name down, Feverel." He indicated the lofty +structure. "What do you say?"</p> + +<p>Richard nodded back at him, crying, "Hurry." Brayder +returned the nod, and those who promenaded the district<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span> +soon beheld his body in elegant motion to the stepping +of his well-earned horse.</p> + +<p>"What do you want to see Lord Mountfalcon for, +Richard?" said Ripton.</p> + +<p>"I just want to see him," Richard replied.</p> + +<p>Ripton was left in the cab at the door of my lord's +residence. He had to wait there a space of about ten +minutes, when Richard returned with a clearer visage, +though somewhat heated. He stood outside the cab, and +Ripton was conscious of being examined by those strong +grey eyes. As clear as speech he understood them to say +to him, "You won't do," but which of the many things +on earth he would not do for he was at a loss to think.</p> + +<p>"Go down to Raynham, Ripton. Say I shall be there +to-night certainly. Don't bother me with questions. +Drive off at once. Or wait. Get another cab. I'll take +this."</p> + +<p>Ripton was ejected, and found himself standing alone in +the street. As he was on the point of rushing after the +galloping cab-horse to get a word of elucidation, he heard +some one speak behind him.</p> + +<p>"You are Feverel's friend?"</p> + +<p>Ripton had an eye for lords. An ambrosial footman, +standing at the open door of Lord Mountfalcon's house, +and a gentleman standing on the door-step, told him that +he was addressed by that nobleman. He was requested to +step into the house. When they were alone, Lord Mountfalcon, +slightly ruffled, said: "Feverel has insulted me +grossly. I must meet him, of course. It's a piece of +infernal folly!—I suppose he is not quite mad?"</p> + +<p>Ripton's only definite answer was a gasping iteration +of "My lord."</p> + +<p>My lord resumed: "I am perfectly guiltless of offending +him, as far as I know. In fact, I had a friendship for +him. Is he liable to fits of this sort of thing?"</p> + +<p>Not yet at conversation-point, Ripton stammered: "Fits, +my lord?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" went the other, eying Ripton in lordly cognizant +style. "You know nothing of this business, perhaps!"</p> + +<p>Ripton said he did not.</p> + +<p>"Have you any influence with him?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, my lord. Only now and then—a little."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are not in the Army?"</p> + +<p>The question was quite unnecessary. Ripton confessed +to the law, and my lord did not look surprised.</p> + +<p>"I will not detain you," he said, distantly bowing.</p> + +<p>Ripton gave him a commoner's obeisance; but getting +to the door, the sense of the matter enlightened him.</p> + +<p>"It's a duel, my lord?"</p> + +<p>"No help for it, if his friends don't shut him up in Bedlam +between this and to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>Of all horrible things a duel was the worst in Ripton's +imagination. He stood holding the handle of the door, +revolving this last chapter of calamity suddenly opened +where happiness had promised.</p> + +<p>"A duel! but he won't, my lord,—he mustn't fight, my +lord."</p> + +<p>"He must come on the ground," said my lord, positively.</p> + +<p>Ripton ejaculated unintelligible stuff. Finally Lord +Mountfalcon said: "I went out of my way, sir, in speaking +to you. I saw you from the window. Your friend is +mad. Deuced methodical, I admit, but mad. I have particular +reasons to wish not to injure the young man, and +if an apology is to be got out of him when we're on the +ground, I'll take it, and we'll stop the damned scandal, if +possible. You understand? I'm the insulted party, and +I shall only require of him to use formal words of excuse +to come to an amicable settlement. Let him just say he +regrets it. Now, sir," the nobleman spoke with considerable +earnestness, "should anything happen—I have the +honour to be known to Mrs. Feverel—and I beg you will +tell her. I very particularly desire you to let her know +that I was not to blame."</p> + +<p>Mountfalcon rang the bell, and bowed him out. With +this on his mind Ripton hurried down to those who were +waiting in joyful trust at Raynham.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XLIV</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST SCENE</h3> + + +<p>The watch consulted by Hippias alternately with his +pulse, in occult calculation hideous to mark, said half-past +eleven on the midnight. Adrian, wearing a composedly +amused expression on his dimpled plump face,—held +slightly sideways, aloof from paper and pen,—sat writing +at the library table. Round the baronet's chair, in a semi-circle, +were Lucy, Lady Blandish, Mrs. Doria, and Ripton, +that very ill bird at Raynham. They were silent as those +who question the flying minutes. Ripton had said that +Richard was sure to come; but the feminine eyes reading +him ever and anon, had gathered matter for disquietude, +which increased as time sped. Sir Austin persisted in his +habitual air of speculative repose.</p> + +<p>Remote as he appeared from vulgar anxiety, he was the +first to speak and betray his state.</p> + +<p>"Pray, put up that watch. Impatience serves nothing," +he said, half-turning hastily to his brother behind him.</p> + +<p>Hippias relinquished his pulse and mildly groaned: "It's +no nightmare, this!"</p> + +<p>His remark was unheard, and the bearing of it remained +obscure. Adrian's pen made a louder flourish on his manuscript; +whether in commiseration or infernal glee, none +might say.</p> + +<p>"What are you writing?" the baronet inquired testily of +Adrian, after a pause; twitched, it may be, by a sort of +jealousy of the wise youth's coolness.</p> + +<p>"Do I disturb you, sir?" rejoined Adrian. "I am engaged +on a portion of a Proposal for uniting the Empires +and Kingdoms of Europe under one Paternal Head, on the +model of the ever-to-be-admired and lamented Holy +Roman. This treats of the management of Youths and +Maids, and of certain magisterial functions connected +therewith. 'It is decreed that these officers be all and every +men of science,' etc." And Adrian cheerily drove his pen +afresh.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria took Lucy's hand, mutely addressing encouragement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span> +to her, and Lucy brought as much of a smile as +she could command to reply with.</p> + +<p>"I fear we must give him up to-night," observed Lady +Blandish.</p> + +<p>"If he said he would come, he will come," Sir Austin +interjected. Between him and the lady there was something +of a contest secretly going on. He was conscious +that nothing save perfect success would now hold this self-emancipating +mind. She had seen him through.</p> + +<p>"He declared to me he would be certain to come," said +Ripton; but he could look at none of them as he said it, +for he was growing aware that Richard might have deceived +him, and was feeling like a black conspirator +against their happiness. He determined to tell the baronet +what he knew, if Richard did not come by twelve.</p> + +<p>"What is the time?" he asked Hippias in a modest voice.</p> + +<p>"Time for me to be in bed," growled Hippias, as if +everybody present had been treating him badly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry came in to apprise Lucy that she was wanted +above. She quietly rose. Sir Austin kissed her on the +forehead, saying: "You had better not come down again, +my child." She kept her eyes on him. "Oblige me by +retiring for the night," he added. Lucy shook their hands, +and went out, accompanied by Mrs. Doria.</p> + +<p>"This agitation will be bad for the child," he said, +speaking to himself aloud.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish remarked: "I think she might just as +well have returned. She will not sleep."</p> + +<p>"She will control herself for the child's sake."</p> + +<p>"You ask too much of her."</p> + +<p>"Of her, not," he emphasized.</p> + +<p>It was twelve o'clock when Hippias shut his watch, and +said with vehemence: "I'm convinced my circulation +gradually and steadily decreases!"</p> + +<p>"Going back to the pre-Harvey period?" murmured +Adrian as he wrote.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin and Lady Blandish knew well that any comment +would introduce them to the interior of his machinery, +the external view of which was sufficiently harrowing; +so they maintained a discreet reserve. Taking it for acquiescence +in his deplorable condition, Hippias resumed +despairingly: "It's a fact. I've brought you to see that.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> +No one can be more moderate than I am, and yet I get +worse. My system is organically sound—I believe: I do +every possible thing, and yet I get worse. Nature never +forgives! I'll go to bed."</p> + +<p>The Dyspepsy departed unconsoled.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin took up his brother's thought: "I suppose +nothing short of a miracle helps us when we have offended +her."</p> + +<p>"Nothing short of a quack satisfies us," said Adrian, +applying wax to an envelope of official dimensions.</p> + +<p>Ripton sat accusing his soul of cowardice while they +talked; haunted by Lucy's last look at him. He got up his +courage presently and went round to Adrian, who, after a +few whispered words, deliberately rose and accompanied +him out of the room, shrugging. When they had gone, +Lady Blandish said to the baronet: "He is not coming."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, then, if not to-night," he replied. "But I +say he will come to-night."</p> + +<p>"You do really wish to see him united to his wife?"</p> + +<p>The question made the baronet raise his brows with +some displeasure.</p> + +<p>"Can you ask me?"</p> + +<p>"I mean," said the ungenerous woman, "your System +will require no further sacrifices from either of them?"</p> + +<p>When he did answer, it was to say: "I think her altogether +a superior person. I confess I should scarcely have +hoped to find one like her."</p> + +<p>"Admit that your science does not accomplish everything."</p> + +<p>"No: it was presumptuous—beyond a certain point," +said the baronet, meaning deep things.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish eyed him. "Ah me!" she sighed, "if we +would always be true to our own wisdom!"</p> + +<p>"You are very singular to-night, Emmeline," Sir Austin +stopped his walk in front of her.</p> + +<p>In truth, was she not unjust? Here was an offending +son freely forgiven. Here was a young woman of humble +birth freely accepted into his family and permitted to +stand upon her qualities. Who would have done more—or +as much? This lady, for instance, had the case been +hers, would have fought it. All the people of position +that he was acquainted with would have fought it, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span> +that without feeling it so peculiarly. But while the +baronet thought this, he did not think of the exceptional +education his son had received. He took the common +ground of fathers, forgetting his System when it was absolutely +on trial. False to his son it could not be said +that he had been: false to his System he was. Others +saw it plainly, but he had to learn his lesson by and by.</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish gave him her face; then stretched her +hand to the table, saying, "Well! well!" She fingered a +half-opened parcel lying there, and drew forth a little book +she recognized. "Ha! what is this?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Benson returned it this morning," he informed her. +"The stupid fellow took it away with him—by mischance, +I am bound to believe."</p> + +<p>It was nothing other than the old Note-book. Lady +Blandish turned over the leaves, and came upon the later +jottings.</p> + +<p>She read: "A maker of Proverbs—what is he but a +narrow mind with the mouthpiece of narrower?"</p> + +<p>"I do not agree with that," she observed. He was in no +humour for argument.</p> + +<p>"Was your humility feigned when you wrote it?"</p> + +<p>He merely said: "Consider the sort of minds influenced +by set sayings. A proverb is the half-way-house to an +Idea, I conceive; and the majority rest there content: can +the keeper of such a house be flattered by his company?"</p> + +<p>She felt her feminine intelligence swaying under him +again. There must be greatness in a man who could thus +speak of his own special and admirable aptitude.</p> + +<p>Further she read, "Which is the coward among us?—<i>He +who sneers at the failings of Humanity!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Oh! that is true! How much I admire that!" cried +the dark-eyed dame as she beamed intellectual raptures.</p> + +<p>Another Aphorism seemed closely to apply to him: +"There is no more grievous sight, as there is no greater +perversion, than a wise man at the mercy of his feelings."</p> + +<p>"He must have written it," she thought, "when he had +himself for an example—strange man that he is!"</p> + +<p>Lady Blandish was still inclined to submission, though +decidedly insubordinate. She had once been fairly conquered: +but if what she reverenced as a great mind could +conquer her, it must be a great man that should hold her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> +captive. The Autumn Primrose blooms for the loftiest +manhood; is a vindictive flower in lesser hands. Nevertheless +Sir Austin had only to be successful, and this +lady's allegiance was his for ever. The trial was at hand.</p> + +<p>She said again: "He is not coming to-night," and the +baronet, on whose visage a contemplative pleased look had +been rising for a minute past, quietly added: "He is +come."</p> + +<p>Richard's voice was heard in the hall.</p> + +<p>There was commotion all over the house at the return +of the young heir. Berry, seizing every possible occasion +to approach his Bessy now that her involuntary coldness +had enhanced her value—"Such is men!" as the soft +woman reflected—Berry ascended to her and delivered the +news in pompous tones and wheedling gestures. "The +best word you've spoke for many a day," says she, and +leaves him unfee'd, in an attitude, to hurry and pour bliss +into Lucy's ears.</p> + +<p>"Lord be praised!" she entered the adjoining room +exclaiming, "we're goin' to be happy at last. They men +have come to their senses. I could cry to your Virgin +and kiss your Cross, you sweet!"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" Lucy admonished her, and crooned over the +child on her knees. The tiny open hands, full of sleep, +clutched; the large blue eyes started awake; and his +mother, all trembling and palpitating, knowing, but +thirsting to hear it, covered him with her tresses, and +tried to still her frame, and rocked, and sang low, interdicting +even a whisper from bursting Mrs. Berry.</p> + +<p>Richard had come. He was under his father's roof, in +the old home that had so soon grown foreign to him. He +stood close to his wife and child. He might embrace +them both; and now the fulness of his anguish and the +madness of the thing he had done smote the young man: +now first he tasted hard earthly misery.</p> + +<p>Had not God spoken to him in the tempest? Had not +the finger of heaven directed him homeward? And he had +come: here he stood: congratulations were thick in his +ears: the cup of happiness was held to him, and he was +invited to drink of it. Which was the dream? his work +for the morrow, or this? But for a leaden load that he +felt like a bullet in his breast, he might have thought the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> +morrow with death sitting on it was the dream. Yes; he +was awake. Now first the cloud of phantasms cleared +away: he beheld his real life, and the colours of true +human joy: and on the morrow perhaps he was to close +his eyes on them. That leaden bullet dispersed all unrealities.</p> + +<p>They stood about him in the hall, his father, Lady +Blandish, Mrs. Doria, Adrian, Ripton; people who had +known him long. They shook his hand: they gave him +greetings he had never before understood the worth of or +the meaning. Now that he did they mocked him. There +was Mrs. Berry in the background bobbing, there was +Martin Berry bowing, there was Tom Bakewell grinning. +Somehow he loved the sight of these better.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my old Penelope!" he said, breaking through the +circle of his relatives to go to her. "Tom! how are you?"</p> + +<p>"Bless ye, my Mr. Richard," whimpered Mrs. Berry, and +whispered rosily, "all's agreeable now. She's waiting up +in bed for ye, like a new-born."</p> + +<p>The person who betrayed most agitation was Mrs. Doria. +She held close to him, and eagerly studied his face and +every movement, as one accustomed to masks. "You are +pale, Richard?" He pleaded exhaustion. "What detained +you, dear?" "Business," he said. She drew him imperiously +apart from the others. "Richard! is it over?" +He asked what she meant. "The dreadful duel, Richard." +He looked darkly. "Is it over? is it done, Richard?" +Getting no immediate answer, she continued—and such +was her agitation that the words were shaken by pieces +from her mouth: "Don't pretend not to understand me, +Richard! Is it over? Are you going to die the death of +my child—Clare's death? Is not one in a family enough? +Think of your dear young wife—we love her so!—your +child!—your father! Will you kill us all?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Doria had chanced to overhear a trifle of Ripton's +communication to Adrian, and had built thereon with the +dark forces of a stricken soul.</p> + +<p>Wondering how this woman could have divined it, Richard +calmly said: "It's arranged—the matter you allude +to."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! truly, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tell me"—but he broke away from her, saying: "You +shall hear the particulars to-morrow," and she, not alive +to double meaning just then, allowed him to leave her.</p> + +<p>He had eaten nothing for twelve hours, and called for +food, but he would take only dry bread and claret, which +was served on a tray in the library. He said, without any +show of feeling, that he must eat before he saw the +younger hope of Raynham: so there he sat, breaking +bread, and eating great mouthfuls, and washing them +down with wine, talking of what they would. His father's +studious mind felt itself years behind him, he was so +completely altered. He had the precision of speech, the +bearing of a man of thirty. Indeed he had all that the +necessity for cloaking an infinite misery gives. But let +things be as they might he was <i>there</i>. For one night in +his life Sir Austin's perspective of the future was +bounded by the night.</p> + +<p>"Will you go to your wife now?" he had asked, and +Richard had replied with a strange indifference. The baronet +thought it better that their meeting should be private, +and sent word for Lucy to wait upstairs. The others perceived +that father and son should now be left alone. +Adrian went up to him, and said: "I can no longer witness +this painful sight, so Good-night, Sir Famish! You may +cheat yourself into the belief that you've made a meal, +but depend upon it your progeny—and it threatens to be +numerous—will cry aloud and rue the day. Nature never +forgives! A lost dinner can never be replaced! Good-night, +my dear boy. And here—oblige me by taking this," +he handed Richard the enormous envelope containing +what he had written that evening. "Credentials!" he +exclaimed humorously, slapping Richard on the shoulder. +Ripton heard also the words "propagator—species," but +had no idea of their import. The wise youth looked: You +see we've made matters all right for you here, and quitted +the room on that unusual gleam of earnestness.</p> + +<p>Richard shook his hand, and Ripton's. Then Lady +Blandish said her good-night, praising Lucy, and promising +to pray for their mutual happiness. The two men +who knew what was hanging over him, spoke together +outside. Ripton was for getting a positive assurance that +the duel would not be fought, but Adrian said: "Time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> +enough to-morrow. He's safe enough while he's here. +I'll stop it to-morrow:" ending with banter of Ripton and +allusions to his adventures with Miss Random, which +must, Adrian said, have led him into many affairs of the +sort. Certainly Richard was there, and while he was +there he must be safe. So thought Ripton, and went to +his bed. Mrs. Doria deliberated likewise, and likewise +thought him safe while he was there. For once in her +life she thought it better not to trust to her instinct, for +fear of useless disturbance where peace should be. So she +said not a syllable of it to her brother. She only looked +more deeply into Richard's eyes, as she kissed him, praising +Lucy. "I have found a second daughter in her, dear. +Oh! may you both be happy!"</p> + +<p>They all praised Lucy, now. His father commenced the +moment they were alone. "Poor Helen! Your wife has +been a great comfort to her, Richard. I think Helen must +have sunk without her. So lovely a young person, possessing +mental faculty, and a conscience for her duties, I have +never before met."</p> + +<p>He wished to gratify his son by these eulogies of Lucy, +and some hours back he would have succeeded. Now it +had the contrary effect.</p> + +<p>"You compliment me on my choice, sir?"</p> + +<p>Richard spoke sedately, but the irony was perceptible, +and he could speak no other way, his bitterness was so +intense.</p> + +<p>"I think you very fortunate," said his father.</p> + +<p>Sensitive to tone and manner as he was, his ebullition +of paternal feeling was frozen. Richard did not approach +him. He leaned against the chimney-piece, glancing at +the floor, and lifting his eyes only when he spoke. Fortunate! +very fortunate! As he revolved his later history, +and remembered how clearly he had seen that his father +must love Lucy if he but knew her, and remembered his +efforts to persuade her to come with him, a sting of +miserable rage blackened his brain. But could he blame +that gentle soul? Whom could he blame? Himself? Not +utterly. His father? Yes, and no. The blame was here, +the blame was there: it was everywhere and nowhere, +and the young man cast it on the Fates, and looked +angrily at heaven, and grew reckless.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Richard," said his father, coming close to him, "It is +late to-night. I do not wish Lucy to remain in expectation +longer, or I should have explained myself to you thoroughly, +and I think—or at least hope—you would have +justified me. I had cause to believe that you had not +only violated my confidence, but grossly deceived me. It +was not so, I now know. I was mistaken. Much of our +misunderstanding has resulted from that mistake. But +you were married—a boy: you knew nothing of the world, +little of yourself. To save you in after-life—for there is +a period when mature men and women who have married +young are more impelled to temptation than in youth,—though +not so exposed to it,—to save you, I say, I decreed +that you should experience self-denial and learn something +of your fellows of both sexes, before settling into a state +that must have been otherwise precarious, however excellent +the woman who is your mate. My System with +you would have been otherwise imperfect, and you would +have felt the effects of it. It is over now. You are a +man. The dangers to which your nature was open are, +I trust, at an end. I wish you to be happy, and I give you +both my blessing, and pray God to conduct and strengthen +you both."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin's mind was unconscious of not having +spoken devoutly. True or not, his words were idle to his +son: his talk of dangers over, and happiness, mockery.</p> + +<p>Richard coldly took his father's extended hand.</p> + +<p>"We will go to her," said the baronet. "I will leave you +at her door."</p> + +<p>Not moving: looking fixedly at his father with a hard +face on which the colour rushed, Richard said: "A husband +who has been unfaithful to his wife may go to her +there, sir?"</p> + +<p>It was horrible, it was cruel: Richard knew that. He +wanted no advice on such a matter, having fully resolved +what to do. Yesterday he would have listened to his +father, and blamed himself alone, and done what was to +be done humbly before God and her: now in the recklessness +of his misery he had as little pity for any other soul +as for his own. Sir Austin's brows were deep drawn +down.</p> + +<p>"What did you say, Richard?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span></p> + +<p>Clearly his intelligence had taken it, but this—the +worst he could hear—this that he had dreaded once and +doubted, and smoothed over, and cast aside—could it be?</p> + +<p>Richard said: "I told you all but the very words when +we last parted. What else do you think would have kept +me from her?"</p> + +<p>Angered at his callous aspect, his father cried: "What +brings you to her now?"</p> + +<p>"That will be between us two," was the reply.</p> + +<p>Sir Austin fell into his chair. Meditation was impossible. +He spoke from a wrathful heart: "You will not dare +to take her without"——</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Richard interrupted him, "I shall not. +Have no fear."</p> + +<p>"Then you did not love your wife?"</p> + +<p>"Did I not?" A smile passed faintly over Richard's +face.</p> + +<p>"Did you care so much for this—this other person?"</p> + +<p>"So much? If you ask me whether I had affection for +her, I can say I had none."</p> + +<p>O base human nature! Then how? then why? A thousand +questions rose in the baronet's mind. Bessy Berry +could have answered them every one.</p> + +<p>"Poor child! poor child!" he apostrophized Lucy, pacing +the room. Thinking of her, knowing her deep love for his +son—her true forgiving heart—it seemed she should be +spared this misery.</p> + +<p>He proposed to Richard to spare her. Vast is the distinction +between women and men in this one sin, he said, +and supported it with physical and moral citations. His +argument carried him so far, that to hear him one would +have imagined he thought the sin in men small indeed. +His words were idle.</p> + +<p>"She must know it," said Richard, sternly. "I will go +to her now, sir, if you please."</p> + +<p>Sir Austin detained him, expostulated, contradicted +himself, confounded his principles, made nonsense of all +his theories. He could not induce his son to waver in +his resolve. Ultimately, their good-night being inter-*changed, +he understood that the happiness of Raynham +depended on Lucy's mercy. He had no fears of her sweet +heart, but it was a strange thing to have come to. On<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span> +which should the accusation fall—on science, or on human +nature?</p> + +<p>He remained in the library pondering over the question, +at times breathing contempt for his son, and again seized +with unwonted suspicion of his own wisdom: troubled, +much to be pitied, even if he deserved that blow from his +son which had plunged him into wretchedness.</p> + +<p>Richard went straight to Tom Bakewell, roused the +heavy sleeper, and told him to have his mare saddled and +waiting at the park gates East within an hour. Tom's +nearest approach to a hero was to be a faithful slave to +his master, and in doing this he acted to his conception +of that high and glorious character. He got up and heroically +dashed his head into cold water. "She shall be +ready, sir," he nodded.</p> + +<p>"Tom! if you don't see me back here at Raynham, your +money will go on being paid to you."</p> + +<p>"Rather see you than the money, Mr. Richard," said +Tom.</p> + +<p>"And you will always watch and see no harm comes to +her, Tom."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Richard, sir?" Tom stared. "God bless me, Mr. +Richard"——</p> + +<p>"No questions. You'll do what I say."</p> + +<p>"Ay, sir; that I will. Did'n Isle o' Wight."</p> + +<p>The very name of the Island shocked Richard's blood, +and he had to walk up and down before he could knock at +Lucy's door. That infamous conspiracy to which he owed +his degradation and misery scarce left him the feelings of +a man when he thought of it.</p> + +<p>The soft beloved voice responded to his knock. He +opened the door, and stood before her. Lucy was half-way +toward him. In the moment that passed ere she was in +his arms, he had time to observe the change in her. He +had left her a girl: he beheld a woman—a blooming +woman: for pale at first, no sooner did she see him than +the colour was rich and deep on her face and neck and +bosom half shown through the loose dressing-robe, and +the sense of her exceeding beauty made his heart thump +and his eyes swim.</p> + +<p>"My darling!" each cried, and they clung together, and +her mouth was fastened on his.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span></p> + +<p>They spoke no more. His soul was drowned in her kiss. +Supporting her, whose strength was gone, he, almost as +weak as she, hung over her, and clasped her closer, closer, +till they were as one body, and in the oblivion her lips +put upon him he was free to the bliss of her embrace. +Heaven granted him that. He placed her in a chair and +knelt at her feet with both arms around her. Her bosom +heaved; her eyes never quitted him: their light as the +light on a rolling wave. This young creature, commonly +so frank and straightforward, was broken with bashfulness +in her husband's arms—womanly bashfulness on the torrent +of womanly love; tenfold more seductive than the +bashfulness of girlhood. Terrible tenfold the loss of her +seemed now, as distantly—far on the horizon of memory—the +fatal truth returned to him.</p> + +<p>Lose her? lose this? He looked up as if to ask God to +confirm it.</p> + +<p>The same sweet blue eyes! the eyes that he had often +seen in the dying glories of evening; on him they dwelt, +shifting, and fluttering, and glittering, but constant: the +light of them as the light on a rolling wave.</p> + +<p>And true to him! true, good, glorious, as the angels of +heaven! And his she was! a woman—his wife! The +temptation to take her, and be dumb, was all powerful: +the wish to die against her bosom so strong as to be the +prayer of his vital forces. Again he strained her to him, +but this time it was as a robber grasps priceless treasure—with +exultation and defiance. One instant of this. Lucy, +whose pure tenderness had now surmounted the first wild +passion of their meeting, bent back her head from her +surrendered body, and said almost voicelessly, her underlids +wistfully quivering: "Come and see him—baby;" and +then in great hope of the happiness she was going to give +her husband, and share with him, and in tremour and +doubt of what his feelings would be, she blushed, and her +brows worked: she tried to throw off the strangeness of +a year of separation, misunderstanding, and uncertainty.</p> + +<p>"Darling! come and see him. He is here." She spoke +more clearly, though no louder.</p> + +<p>Richard had released her, and she took his hand, and he +suffered himself to be led to the other side of the bed. His +heart began rapidly throbbing at the sight of a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> +rosy-curtained cot covered with lace like milky summer +cloud.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him he would lose his manhood if he +looked on that child's face.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" he cried suddenly.</p> + +<p>Lucy turned first to him, and then to her infant, fearing +it should have been disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Lucy, come back."</p> + +<p>"What is it, darling?" said she, in alarm at his voice +and the grip he had unwittingly given her hand.</p> + +<p>O God! what an Ordeal was this! that to-morrow he +must face death, perhaps die and be torn from his darling—his +wife and his child; and that ere he went forth, +ere he could dare to see his child and lean his head reproachfully +on his young wife's breast—for the last time, +it might be—he must stab her to the heart, shatter the +image she held of him.</p> + +<p>"Lucy!" She saw him wrenched with agony, and her +own face took the whiteness of his—she bending forward +to him, all her faculties strung to hearing.</p> + +<p>He held her two hands that she might look on him and +not spare the horrible wounds he was going to lay open +to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Lucy. Do you know why I came to you to-night?"</p> + +<p>She moved her lips repeating his words.</p> + +<p>"Lucy. Have you guessed why I did not come before?"</p> + +<p>Her head shook widened eyes.</p> + +<p>"Lucy. I did not come because I was not worthy of +my wife! Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Darling," she faltered plaintively, and hung crouching +under him, "what have I done to make you angry with +me?"</p> + +<p>"O beloved!" cried he, the tears bursting out of his +eyes. "O beloved!" was all he could say, kissing her hands +passionately.</p> + +<p>She waited, reassured, but in terror.</p> + +<p>"Lucy. I stayed away from you—I could not come to +you, because ... I dared not come to you, my wife, my +beloved! I could not come because I was a coward: because—hear +me—this was the reason: I have broken my +marriage oath."</p> + +<p>Again her lips moved. She caught at a dim fleshless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span> +meaning in them. "But you love me? Richard! My husband! +you love me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have never loved, I never shall love, woman +but you."</p> + +<p>"Darling! Kiss me."</p> + +<p>"Have you understood what I have told you?"</p> + +<p>"Kiss me," she said.</p> + +<p>He did not join lips. "I have come to you to-night to +ask your forgiveness."</p> + +<p>Her answer was: "Kiss me."</p> + +<p>"Can you forgive a man so base?"</p> + +<p>"But you love me, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes: that I can say before God. I love you, and I +have betrayed you, and am unworthy of you—not worthy +to touch your hand, to kneel at your feet, to breathe the +same air with you."</p> + +<p>Her eyes shone brilliantly. "You love me! you love +me, darling!" And as one who has sailed through dark +fears into daylight, she said: "My husband! my darling! +you will never leave me? We never shall be parted +again?"</p> + +<p>He drew his breath painfully. To smooth her face +growing rigid with fresh fears of his silence, he met her +mouth. That kiss in which she spoke what her soul had +to say, calmed her, and she smiled happily from it, and in +her manner reminded him of his first vision of her on the +summer morning in the field of the meadow-sweet. He +held her to him, and thought then of a holier picture: of +Mother and Child: of the sweet wonders of the life she +had made real to him.</p> + +<p>Had he not absolved his conscience? At least the pangs +to come made him think so. He now followed her leading +hand. Lucy whispered: "You mustn't disturb him—mustn't +touch him, dear!" and with dainty fingers drew +off the covering to the little shoulder. One arm of the +child was out along the pillow; the small hand open. His +baby-mouth was pouted full; the dark lashes of his eyes +seemed to lie on his plump cheeks. Richard stooped lower +down to him, hungering for some movement as a sign that +he lived. Lucy whispered. "He sleeps like you, Richard—one +arm under his head." Great wonder, and the stir +of a grasping tenderness was in Richard. He breathed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span> +quick and soft, bending lower, till Lucy's curls, as she +nestled and bent with him, rolled on the crimson quilt +of the cot. A smile went up the plump cheeks: forthwith +the bud of a mouth was in rapid motion. The young +mother whispered, blushing: "He's dreaming of me," and +the simple words did more than Richard's eyes to make +him see what was. Then Lucy began to hum and buzz +sweet baby-language, and some of the tiny fingers stirred, +and he made as if to change his cosy position, but reconsidered, +and deferred it, with a peaceful little sigh. Lucy +whispered: "He is such a big fellow. Oh! when you see +him awake he is so like you, Richard."</p> + +<p>He did not hear her immediately: it seemed a bit of +heaven dropped there in his likeness: the more human the +fact of the child grew the more heavenly it seemed. His +son! his child! should he ever see him awake? At the +thought, he took the words that had been spoken, and +started from the dream he had been in. "Will he wake +soon, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no! not yet, dear: not for hours. I would have +kept him awake for you, but he was <i>so</i> sleepy."</p> + +<p>Richard stood back from the cot. He thought that if +he saw the eyes of his boy, and had him once on his heart, +he never should have force to leave him. Then he looked +down on him, again struggled to tear himself away. Two +natures warred in his bosom, or it may have been the +Magian Conflict still going on. He had come to see his +child once and to make peace with his wife before it +should be too late. Might he not stop with them? Might +he not relinquish that devilish pledge? Was not divine +happiness here offered to him?—If foolish Ripton had not +delayed to tell him of his interview with Mountfalcon all +might have been well. But pride said it was impossible. +And then injury spoke. For why was he thus base and +spotted to the darling of his love? A mad pleasure in the +prospect of wreaking vengeance on the villain who had +laid the trap for him, once more blackened his brain. If +he would stay he could not. So he resolved, throwing the +burden on Fate. The struggle was over, but oh, the pain!</p> + +<p>Lucy beheld the tears streaming hot from his face on +the child's cot. She marvelled at such excess of emotion. +But when his chest heaved, and the extremity of mortal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span> +anguish appeared to have seized him, her heart sank, and +she tried to get him in her arms. He turned away from +her and went to the window. A half-moon was over the +lake.</p> + +<p>"Look!" he said, "do you remember our rowing there +one night, and we saw the shadow of the cypress? I wish +I could have come early to-night that we might have had +another row, and I have heard you sing there!"</p> + +<p>"Darling!" said she, "will it make you happier if I go +with you now? I will."</p> + +<p>"No, Lucy. Lucy, you are brave!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! that I'm not. I thought so once. I know I +am not now."</p> + +<p>"Yes! to have lived—the child on your heart—and +never to have uttered a complaint!—you are brave. O my +Lucy! my wife! you that have made me man! I called +you a coward. I remember it. I was the coward—<i>I</i> the +wretched vain fool! Darling! I am going to leave you +now. You are brave, and you will bear it. Listen: in +two days, or three, I may be back—back for good, if you +will accept me. Promise me to go to bed quietly. Kiss +the child for me, and tell him his father has seen him. He +will learn to speak soon. Will he soon speak, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>Dreadful suspicion kept her speechless; she could only +clutch one arm of his with both her hands.</p> + +<p>"Going?" she presently gasped.</p> + +<p>"For two or three days. No more—I hope."</p> + +<p>"To-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Now."</p> + +<p>"Going now? my husband!" her faculties abandoned her.</p> + +<p>"You will be brave, my Lucy!"</p> + +<p>"Richard! my darling husband! Going? What is it +takes you from me?" But questioning no further, she fell +on her knees, and cried piteously to him to stay—not to +leave them. Then she dragged him to the little sleeper, +and urged him to pray by his side, and he did, but rose +abruptly from his prayer when he had muttered a few +broken words—she praying on with tight-strung nerves, in +the faith that what she said to the interceding Mother +above would be stronger than human hands on him. Nor +could he go while she knelt there.</p> + +<p>And he wavered. He had not reckoned on her terrible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span> +suffering. She came to him, quiet. "I knew you would +remain." And taking his hand, innocently fondling it: +"Am I so changed from her he loved? You will not leave +me, dear?" But dread returned, and the words quavered +as she spoke them.</p> + +<p>He was almost vanquished by the loveliness of her +womanhood. She drew his hand to her heart, and strained +it there under one breast. "Come: lie on my heart," she +murmured with a smile of holy sweetness.</p> + +<p>He wavered more, and drooped to her, but summoning +the powers of hell, kissed her suddenly, cried the words of +parting, and hurried to the door. It was over in an instant. +She cried out his name, clinging to him wildly, +and was adjured to be brave, for he would be dishonoured +if he did not go. Then she was shaken off.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Berry was aroused by an unusual prolonged wailing +of the child, which showed that no one was comforting it, +and failing to get any answer to her applications for +admittance, she made bold to enter. There she saw Lucy, +the child in her lap, sitting on the floor senseless:—she +had taken it from its sleep and tried to follow her husband +with it as her strongest appeal to him, and had +fainted.</p> + +<p>"Oh my! oh my!" Mrs. Berry moaned, "and I just now +thinkin' they was so happy!"</p> + +<p>Warming and caressing the poor infant, she managed +by degrees to revive Lucy, and heard what had brought +her to that situation.</p> + +<p>"Go to his father," said Mrs. Berry. "Ta-te-tiddle-te-heighty-O! +Go, my love, and every horse in Raynham +shall be out after 'm. This is what men brings us to! +Heighty-oighty-iddlety-Ah! Or you take blessed baby, +and I'll go."</p> + +<p>The baronet himself knocked at the door. "What is +this?" he said. "I heard a noise and a step descend."</p> + +<p>"It's Mr. Richard have gone, Sir Austin! have gone +from his wife and babe! Rum-te-um-te-iddledy—Oh, my +goodness! what sorrow's come on us!" and Mrs. Berry +wept, and sang to baby, and baby cried vehemently, and +Lucy, sobbing, took him and danced him and sang to him +with drawn lips and tears dropping over him. And if the +Scientific Humanist to the day of his death forgets the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> +sight of those two poor true women jigging on their +wretched hearts to calm the child, he must have very little +of the human in him.</p> + +<p>There was no more sleep for Raynham that night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XLV</h2> + +<h3>LADY BLANDISH TO AUSTIN WENTWORTH</h3> + + +<p>"His ordeal is over. I have just come from his room +and seen him bear the worst that could be. Return at once—he +has asked for you. I can hardly write intelligibly, +but I will tell you what we know.</p> + +<p>"Two days after the dreadful night when he left us, his +father heard from Ralph Morton. Richard had fought a +duel in France with Lord Mountfalcon, and was lying +wounded at a hamlet on the coast. His father started +immediately with his poor wife, and I followed in company +with his aunt and his child. The wound was not +dangerous. He was shot in the side somewhere, but the +ball injured no vital part. We thought all would be well. +Oh! how sick I am of theories, and Systems, and the pretensions +of men! There was his son lying all but dead, +and the man was still unconvinced of the folly he had been +guilty of. I could hardly bear the sight of his composure. +I shall hate the name of Science till the day I die. Give +me nothing but commonplace unpretending people!</p> + +<p>"They were at a wretched French cabaret, smelling +vilely, where we still remain, and the people try as much +as they can do to compensate for our discomforts by their +kindness. The French poor people are very considerate +where they see suffering. I will say that for them. The +doctors had not allowed his poor Lucy to go near him. +She sat outside his door, and none of us dared disturb +her. That was a sight for Science. His father and myself, +and Mrs. Berry, were the only ones permitted to +wait on him, and whenever we came out, there she sat, +not speaking a word—for she had been told it would +endanger his life—but she looked such awful eagerness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> +She had the sort of eye I fancy mad persons have. I was +sure her reason was going. We did everything we could +think of to comfort her. A bed was made up for her and +her meals were brought to her there. Of course there was +no getting her to eat. What do you suppose <i>his</i> alarm +was fixed on? He absolutely said to me—but I have not +patience to repeat his words. He thought her to blame +for not <i>commanding</i> herself for the sake of her <i>maternal +duties</i>. He had absolutely an idea of insisting that she +should make an effort to suckle the child. I shall love that +Mrs. Berry to the end of my days. I really believe she has +<i>twice</i> the sense of any of us—Science and all. She asked +him plainly if he wished to poison the child, and then he +gave way, but with a bad grace.</p> + +<p>"Poor man! perhaps I am hard on him. I remember +that you said Richard had done wrong. Yes; well, that +may be. But his father eclipsed his wrong in a greater +wrong—a crime, or quite as bad; for if he deceived himself +in the belief that he was acting righteously in <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'sparating'">separating</ins> +husband and wife, and exposing his son as he did, I can +only say that there are some who are worse than people +who deliberately commit <i>crimes</i>. No doubt Science will +benefit by it. They kill little animals for the sake of +Science.</p> + +<p>"We have with us Doctor Bairam, and a French +physician from Dieppe, a very skilful man. It was he +who told us where the real danger lay. We thought all +would be well. A week had passed, and no fever supervened. +We told Richard that his wife was coming to +him, and he could bear to hear it. I went to her and +began to circumlocute, thinking she listened—she had the +same eager look. When I told her she might go in with +me to see her dear husband, her features did not change. +M. Després, who held her pulse at the time, told me, in +a whisper, it was cerebral fever—brain fever coming on. +We have talked of her since. I noticed that though she +did not seem to understand me, her bosom heaved, and +she appeared to be trying to repress it, and choke something. +I am sure now, from what I know of her character, +that she—even in the approaches of delirium—was +preventing herself from crying out. Her last hold of +reason was a thought for Richard. It was against a creature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span> +like this that we plotted! I have the comfort of +knowing that I did my share in helping to destroy her. +Had she seen her husband a day or two before—but no! +there was a new <i>System</i> to interdict that! Or had she +not so violently controlled her nature as she did, I believe +she might have been saved.</p> + +<p>"He said once of a man, that his conscience was a coxcomb. +Will you believe that when he saw his son's wife—poor +victim! lying delirious, he could not even then see his +error. You said he wished to take Providence out of God's +hands. His mad self-deceit would not leave him. I am +positive, that while he was standing over her, he was blaming +her for not having considered the child. Indeed he +made a remark to me that it was unfortunate—'disastrous,' +I think he said—that the child should have to be +fed by hand. I dare say it is. All I pray is that this +young child may be saved from him. I cannot bear to +see him look on it. He does not spare himself <i>bodily</i> +fatigue—but what is that? that is the vulgarest form of +love. I know what you will say. You will say I have +lost all charity, and I have. But I should not feel so, +Austin, if I could be <i>quite sure</i> that he is an altered man +even now the blow has struck him. He is reserved and +simple in his speech, and his grief is evident, but I have +doubts. He heard her while she was senseless call him +cruel and harsh, and cry that she had suffered, and I saw +then his mouth contract as if he had been touched. Perhaps, +when he thinks, his mind will be clearer, but what +he has done cannot be undone. I do not imagine he will +abuse women any more. The doctor called her a 'forte et +belle jeune femme:' and <i>he</i> said she was as noble a soul as +ever God moulded clay upon. A noble soul 'forte et belle!' +She lies upstairs. If he can look on her and not see his +<i>sin</i>, I almost fear God will never enlighten him.</p> + +<p>"She died five days after she had been removed. The +shock had utterly deranged her. I was with her. She died +very quietly, breathing her last breath without pain—asking +for no one—a death I should like to die.</p> + +<p>"Her cries at one time were dreadfully loud. She +screamed that she was 'drowning in fire,' and that her +husband would not come to her to save her. We deadened +the sound as much as we could, but it was impossible to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span> +prevent Richard from hearing. He knew her voice, and +it produced an effect like fever on him. Whenever she +called he answered. You could not hear them without +weeping. Mrs. Berry sat with her, and I sat with him, +and his father moved from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"But the trial for us came when she was gone. How to +communicate it to Richard—or whether to do so at all! +His father consulted with us. We were quite decided that +it would be madness to breathe it while he was in that +state. I can admit now—as things have turned out—we +were wrong. His father left us—I believe he spent the +time in prayer—and then leaning on me, he went to Richard, +and said in so many words, that his Lucy was no +more. I thought it must kill him. He listened, and +smiled. I never saw a smile so sweet and so sad. He +said he had seen her die, as if he had passed through his +suffering a long time ago. He shut his eyes. I could see +by the motion of his eyeballs up that he was straining his +sight to some inner heaven.—I cannot go on.</p> + +<p>"I think Richard is safe. Had we postponed the tidings, +till he came to his clear senses, it must have killed him. +His father was right for once, then. But if he has saved +his son's body, he has given the death-blow to his heart. +Richard will never be what he promised.</p> + +<p>"A letter found on his clothes tells us the origin of the +quarrel. I have had an interview with Lord M. this morning. +I cannot say I think him exactly to blame: Richard +forced him to fight. At least I do not select him the foremost +for blame. He was deeply and sincerely affected by +the calamity he has caused. Alas! he was only an instrument. +Your poor aunt is utterly prostrate and talks +strange things of her daughter's death. She is only happy +in <i>drudging</i>. Dr. Bairam says we must under any circumstances +keep her employed. Whilst she is doing something, +she can chat freely, but the moment her hands are +not occupied she gives me an idea that she is going into +a fit.</p> + +<p>"We expect the dear child's uncle to-day. Mr. Thompson +is here. I have taken him upstairs to look at her. +That poor young man has a true heart.</p> + +<p>"Come at once. You will not be in time to see her. She +will lie at Raynham. If you could you would see an angel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span> +<i>He</i> sits by her side for hours. I can give you no description +of her beauty.</p> + +<p>"You will not delay, I know, dear Austin, and I want +you, for your presence will make me more charitable than +I find it possible to be. Have you noticed the expression +in the eyes of blind men? That is just how Richard looks, +as he lies there silent in his bed—striving to image her on +his brain."</p> + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> + +<h2>The Modern<br /> +Student's Library</h2> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<h3>NOVELS</h3> + +<p> +<b>AUSTEN: Pride and Prejudice</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">William Dean Howells</span><br /> + +<b>BUNYAN: The Pilgrim's Progress</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Samuel McChord Crothers</span><br /> + +<b>COOPER: The Spy</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Tremaine McDowell</span>, Associate Professor of +English, University of Minnesota<br /> + +<b>ELIOT: Adam Bede</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Laura Johnson Wylie</span>, formerly Professor of +English, Vassar College<br /> + +<b>FIELDING: The Adventures of Joseph Andrews</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Bruce McCullough</span>, Associate Professor of English, +New York University<br /> + +<b>GALSWORTHY: The Patrician</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Bliss Perry</span>, Professor of English Literature, +Harvard University<br /> + +<b>HARDY: The Return of the Native</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">J. W. Cunliffe</span>, Professor of English, Columbia +University<br /> + +<b>HAWTHORNE: The Scarlet Letter</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Stuart P. Sherman</span>, late Literary Editor of the +New York <i>Herald Tribune</i><br /> + +<b>MEREDITH: Evan Harrington</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">George F. Reynolds</span>, Professor of English Literature, +University of Colorado<br /> + +<b>MEREDITH: The Ordeal of Richard Feverel</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Frank W. Chandler</span>, Professor of English and +Comparative Literature, and Dean of the College of Liberal Arts, University +of Cincinnati<br /> + +<b>SCOTT: The Heart of Midlothian</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">William P. Trent</span>, Professor of English Literature, +Columbia University<br /> + +<b>STEVENSON: The Master of Ballantrae</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">H. S. Canby</span>, Assistant Editor of the <i>Yale Review</i> +and Editor of the <i>Saturday Review</i><br /> + +<b>THACKERAY: The History of Pendennis</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Robert Morss Lovett</span>, Professor of English, +University of Chicago. 2 vols.<br /> + +<b>TROLLOPE: Barchester Towers</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Clarence D. Stevens</span>, Professor of English, University +of Cincinnati<br /> + +<b>WHARTON: Ethan Frome</b><br /> +With a special introduction by <span class="smcap">Edith Wharton</span><br /> + +<b>THREE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY ROMANCES: The Castle of Otranto, +Vathek, The Romance of the Forest</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Harrison R. Steeves</span>, Professor of English, Columbia +University<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>POETRY</h3> + +<p> +<b>BROWNING: Poems and Plays</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Hewette E. Joyce</span>, Assistant Professor of English, Dartmouth +College<br /> + +<b>BROWNING: The Ring and the Book</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Frederick Morgan Padeiford</span>, Professor of English, University +of Washington<br /> + +<b>TENNYSON: Poems</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">J. F. A. Pyre</span>, Professor of English, University of Wisconsin<br /> + +<b>WHITMAN: Leaves of Grass</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Stuart P. Sherman</span>, late Literary Editor of the New York +<i>Herald Tribune</i><br /> + +<b>WORDSWORTH: Poems</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">George M. Harper</span>, Professor of English, Princeton University<br /> + +<b>AMERICAN SONGS AND BALLADS</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Louise Pound</span>, Professor of English, University of Nebraska<br /> + +<b>ENGLISH POETS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Ernest Bernbaum</span>, Professor of English, University of Illinois<br /> + +<b>MINOR VICTORIAN POETS</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">John D. Cooke</span>, Professor of English, University of Southern +California<br /> + +<b>ROMANTIC POETRY OF THE EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURY</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Arthur Beatty</span>, Professor of English, University of Wisconsin<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>ESSAYS AND MISCELLANEOUS PROSE</h3> + +<p> +<b>ADDISON AND STEELE: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Will D. Howe</span>, formerly head of the Department of English, +Indiana University<br /> + +<b>ARNOLD: Prose and Poetry</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Archibald L. Bouton</span>, Professor of English and Dean of the +Graduate School, New York University<br /> + +<b>BACON: Essays</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Mary Augusta Scott</span>, late Professor of the English Language +and Literature, Smith College<br /> + +<b>BROWNELL: American Prose Masters</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Stuart P. Sherman</span>, late Literary Editor of the New York +<i>Herald Tribune</i><br /> + +<b>BURKE: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Leslie Nathan Broughton</span>, Assistant Professor of English, +Cornell University<br /> + +<b>CARLYLE: Past and Present</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Edwin Mims</span>, Professor of English, Vanderbilt University<br /> + +<b>CARLYLE: Sartor Resartus</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Ashley H. Thorndike</span>, Professor of English, Columbia University<br /> + +<b>EMERSON: Essays and Poems</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Arthur Hobson Quinn</span>, Professor of English, University of +Pennsylvania<br /> + +<b>FRANKLIN AND EDWARDS: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Carl Van Doren</span>, Associate Professor of English, Columbia +University<br /> + +<b>HAZLITT: Essays</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Percy V. D. Shelly</span>, Professor of English, University of Pennsylvania<br /> + +<b>LINCOLN: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Nathaniel Wright Stephenson</span>, author of "Lincoln: His +Personal Life"<br /> + +<b>MACAULAY: Historical Essays</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles Downer Hazen</span>, Professor of History, Columbia +University<br /> + +<b>MEREDITH: An Essay on Comedy</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Lane Cooper</span>, Professor of the English Language and Literature,<br /> + +<b>PARKMAN: The Oregon Trail</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">James Cloyd Bowman</span>, Professor of English, Northern State +Normal College, Marquette, Mich.<br /> + +<b>POE: Tales</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">James Southall Wilson</span>, Edgar Allan Poe Professor of English, +University of Virginia<br /> + +<b>RUSKIN: Selections and Essays</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Frederick William Roe</span>, Professor of English, University of +Wisconsin<br /> + +<b>STEVENSON: Essays</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">William Lyon Phelps</span>, Lampson Professor of English Literature, +Yale University<br /> + +<b>SWIFT: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Hardin Craig</span>, Professor of English, University of Iowa<br /> + +<b>THOREAU: A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Odell Shepard</span>, James J. Goodwin Professor of English, Trinity +College<br /> + +<b>CONTEMPORARY ESSAYS</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Odell Shepard</span>, James J. Goodwin Professor of English, Trinity +College<br /> + +<b>CRITICAL ESSAYS OF THE EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURY</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Raymond M. Alden</span>, late Professor of English, Leland Stanford +University<br /> + +<b>SELECTIONS FROM THE FEDERALIST</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">John S. Bassett</span>, late Professor of History, Smith College<br /> + +<b>NINETEENTH CENTURY LETTERS</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Byron Johnson Rees</span>, late Professor of English, Williams +College<br /> + +<b>ROMANTIC PROSE OF THE EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURY</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Carl H. Grabo</span>, Professor of English, University of Chicago<br /> + +<b>SEVENTEENTH CENTURY ESSAYS</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Jacob Zeitlin</span>, Associate Professor of English, University of<br /> +Illinois<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>BIOGRAPHY</h3> + +<p> +<b>BOSWELL: Life of Johnson</b><br /> +Abridged and Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles Grosvenor Osgood</span>, Professor of English, +Princeton University<br /> + +<b>CROCKETT: Autobiography of David Crockett</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Hamlin Garland</span><br /> +</p> + + +<h3>PHILOSOPHY SERIES<br /> +Editor, Ralph Barton Perry</h3> +<h4><i>Professor of Philosophy, Harvard University</i></h4> + +<p> +<b>ARISTOTLE: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">W. D. Ross</span>, Professor of Philosophy, Oriel College, University of +Oxford<br /> + +<b>BACON: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Matthew Thompson McClure</span>, Professor of Philosophy, University +of Illinois<br /> + +<b>BERKELEY: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Mary W. Calkins</span>, late Professor of Philosophy and Psychology, +Wellesley College<br /> + +<b>DESCARTES: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Ralph M. Eaton</span>, late Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Harvard +University<br /> + +<b>HEGEL: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Jacob Loewenberg</span>, Professor of Philosophy, University of +California<br /> + +<b>HOBBES: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Frederick J. E. Woodbridge</span>, Johnsonian Professor of Philosophy, +Columbia University<br /> + +<b>HUME: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Charles W. Hendel, Jr.</span>, Professor of Philosophy, McGill +University<br /> + +<b>KANT: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Theodore M. Greene</span>, Associate Professor of Philosophy, +Princeton University<br /> + +<b>LOCKE: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Sterling P. Lamprecht</span>, Professor of Philosophy, Amherst +College<br /> + +<b>PLATO: The Republic</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">C. M. Bakewell</span>, Professor of Philosophy, Yale +University<br /> + +<b>PLATO: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Raphael Demos</span>, Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Harvard +University<br /> + +<b>SCHOPENHAUER: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">DeWitt H. Parker</span>, Professor of Philosophy, University of +Michigan<br /> + +<b>SPINOZA: Selections</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">John D. Wild</span>, Instructor in Philosophy, Harvard University<br /> + +<b>MEDIEVAL PHILOSOPHY</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Richard McKeon</span>, Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Columbia +University<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>FRENCH SERIES<br /> +Editor, Horatio Smith</h3> +<h4><i>Professor of French Language and Literature, Brown University</i></h4> + +<p> +<b>BALZAC: Le Père Goriot</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Horatio Smith</span>, Brown University<br /> + +<b>CORNEILLE: Le Cid, Horace, Polyeucte, Le Menteur</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">C. H. C. Wright</span>, Professor of French Language and Literature, +Harvard University<br /> + +<b>FLAUBERT: Madame Bovary</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Christian Gauss</span>, Dean of the College, Princeton +University<br /> + +<b>MADAME DE LA FAYETTE: La Princesse de Clèves</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">H. Ashton</span>, Professor of French Language and +Literature, University of British Columbia<br /> + +<b>MOLIÈRE: Les Précieuses Ridicules, Le Tartuffe, Le Misanthrope</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">William A. Nitze</span> and <span class="smcap">Hilda L. Norman</span>, University of Chicago<br /> + +<b>PRÉVOST: Histoire du Chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Louis Landré</span>, Associate Professor of French, +Brown University<br /> + +<b>RACINE: Andromaque, Britannicus, Phèdre</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">H. Carrington Lancaster</span>, Professor of French Literature, +Johns Hopkins University, and <span class="smcap">Edmond A. Méras</span>, Professor of French +Literature, Adelphi College<br /> + +<b>GEORGE SAND: Indiana</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Hermann H. Thornton</span>, Associate Professor of +French and Italian, Oberlin College<br /> + +<b>STENDHAL: Le Rouge et le Noir</b><br /> +With an introduction by <span class="smcap">Paul Hazard</span>, Collège de France<br /> + +<b>VOLTAIRE: Candide and Other Philosophical Tales</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Morris Bishop</span>, Assistant Professor of the Romance Languages +and Literature, Cornell University<br /> + +<b>FRENCH ROMANTIC PLAYS: Dumas's "Antony," Hugo's "Hernani" +and "Ruy Blas," Vigny's "Chatterton," Musset's "On +ne badine pas avec l'amour."</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">W. W. Comfort</span>, President, Haverford College<br /> + +<b>FRENCH ROMANTIC PROSE</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">W. W. Comfort</span>, President, Haverford College<br /> + +<b>FOUR FRENCH COMEDIES OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY: Lesage's +"Turcaret," Marivaux's "Le jeu de l'amour et du hasard," +Sedaine's "Le philosophe sans le savoir," Beaumarchais's "Le +barbier de Séville"</b><br /> +Edited by <span class="smcap">Casimir D. Zdanowicz</span>, Professor of French, University of +Wisconsin<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 100%;" /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h3> +<p>Other than the corrections listed below, printer's inconsistencies in +spelling, punctuation and hyphenation usage have been retained.</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. +Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +Pg. 3 "Feveral" corrected to "Feverel" (Hippias Feverel)<br /> +Pg. 25 "run" corrected to "rung" (bell was rung)<br /> +Pg. 38 "pursuade" corrected to "persuade" (persuade her to disrobe)<br /> +Pg. 44 "Said" corrected to "said" (coward?" said)<br /> +Pg. 52 "Feveral" corrected to "Feverel" (a Feverel asking this)<br /> +Pg. 75 "Parliment" corrected to "Parliament" (the hero of our Parliament,)<br /> +Pg. 119 "agree" corrected to "agrees" (it agrees with me)<br /> +Pg. 455 "sparating" corrected to "separating" (acting righteously in separating)</p> +</div> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Ordeal of Richard Feverel, by George Meredith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ORDEAL OF RICHARD FEVEREL *** + +***** This file should be named 34858-h.htm or 34858-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/5/34858/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Dianne Nolan, Louise Setzer and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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