 CHAPTER XXVIII. A CHICK. So many things now began to open upon me, to do and to think of, that I scarcely knew which to begin with. I used to be told how much wiser it was not to interfere with anything, to let bygones be bygones and to consider my own self only. But this advice never came home to my case, and it always seemed an unworthy thing even to be listening to it. And now I saw reason to be glad for thanking people who advised me and letting them go on to advise themselves. For, if I had listened to Major Hawken or even Uncle Sam for that part, where must I have been now? Why, simply knowing no more than as a child I knew and feeling miserable about it? Whereas I had now at least something to go on, and enough for a long time to occupy my mind. The difficulty was to know what to do first, and what to resolve or to leave undone, or at least to put off for the present. One of my special desires had been to discover that man, that Mr. Goad, who had frightened me so about two years back, and was said to be lost in the snowdrifts. But nobody like him had ever been found to the sorrow of the neighborhood, and Sylvester himself had been disappointed not even to know what to do with his clothes. His card, however, before he went off, had been left to the care of Uncle Sam for security of the fifteen thousand dollars, and on it was printed with a glazing and much floris, Vipon, Goad, and Terrier, Private Inquiry, Office, Little England Polygon, W.C. Uncle Sam, with a grunt and a rise of his foot, had sent this low card flying to the fire, after I had kissed him so for all his truth and loveliness. But I had caught it and made him give it to me, as was only natural. And having this now I had been quite prepared to go and present it at its mean address, and ask what they wanted me for in America, and what they would like to do with me now, taking care to have either the major close of hand, or else a policeman well recommended. But now I determined to wait a little while, if Betsy Bowen's opinion should be all the same as mine was, and to ask Mr. Shovelin what he thought about it, before doing anything that might arouse a set of ideas quite opposite to mine, and so cause trouble afterward. And being unable to think any better for the time than to wait and be talked to, I got Major Hawken to take me back again to the right number in European Square. Here I found Mrs. Strauss, born Betsy Bowen, ready and eager to hear a great deal more than I myself had heard that day. On the other hand I had many questions arising from things said to me, to which I required clear answers, and it would never do for her to suppose that because she had known me come into the world, she must govern the whole of my course therein. But it cost many words and a great deal of demeanor to teach her that, good and faithful as she was, I could not be always under her. Yet I promised to take her advice whenever it agreed with my own opinions. This pleased her, and she promised to offer it always, knowing how well it would be received, and she told all her lodgers that they may ring and ring, for she did not mean to answer any of their bells, but if they wanted anything they must go and fetch it. Being Germans who are the most docile of men in England, whatever they may be at home, they made no complaint but retired to their pipes in a pleasant condition of surprise at London habits. Mrs. Strauss, being from her earliest years of a thrifty and reputable turn of mind, had managed, in a large yet honest way, to put by many things which must prove useful in the long run if kept long enough. And I did hear, most careful as I am to pay no attention to petty rumours, that the first thing that moved the heart of Herr Strauss, and called forth his finest feelings, was a winding-up chair which came out to make legs with a pocket for tobacco and a flat place for a glass. This was certainly a paltry thought, and to think of such low things grieved me. And now, when I looked at Mr. Strauss himself, having heard none of these things yet, I felt that my nurse might not have done her best, yet might have done worse when she married him, for he seemed to have taken a liking to me and an interest in my affairs, which redounded to his credit if he would not be too inquisitive. And now I gladly allowed him to be present and to rest in the chair that had captivated him, although last night I could scarcely have borne to have heard in his presence what I had to hear. Tonight there was nothing distrustful to be said, compared at least with last night's tale, whereas there were several questions to be put, in some of which, which scouting altogether unequal Sam's low estimate, two females might, with advantage perhaps, obtain an opinion from the stronger sex. And now, as soon as I had told my two friends as well as I could what had happened at the bank, with which they were pleased as I had been, those questions arose, and were, I believe, chiefly to the following purport, setting aside the main puzzle of all. Why did my father say, on that dreadful morning, that if his father was dead he himself had killed or murdered him? Betsy believed, when she came to think, that he had even used the worse word of these two. How could the fatal shot have been discharged from his pistol? As clearly it had been, a pistol, moreover which by his own account, as Betsy now remembered, he had left in his quarters near Chichester. What was that horrible disease which had carried off all my poor little brothers and sisters, and frightened kind neighbors and servants away? Betsy said it was called, quote, differ area, unquote, as differing so much from all other complaints. I had never yet heard of this, but discovered, without asking further than of Mr. Strauss, that she meant that urgent mandate for a levy of small angels, which is called on earth diphtheria. Who had directed those private inquirers by Pengode and Terrier to send to the far west a member of their firm to get legal proof of my dear father's death, and to bring me back, if possible? The present Lord Castlewood never would have done so according to what Mr. Shovelin said. It was far more likely that, but for weak health, he would have come forth himself to seek me upon any probable tidings. At once a religious and chivalrous man he would never employ mean agency. And while thinking of that another thought occurred. What had induced that low man goad to give Uncle Sam a date wrong altogether for the crime which began all our misery? He had put it at ten now twelve years back and dated at November, whereas it had happened in September month, six years and two months before the date he gave. The question was out of all answer to me, and also to Mrs. Strauss herself. But Hare Strauss, being of a legal turn, believed that the law was blamed for it. He thought that proceedings might be bound to begin under the Extradition Act within ten years of the date of the crime, or there might be some other stipulation compelling Mr. Grode to add one to all his falsehoods, and not knowing anything about it both of us thought it very likely. Again what could have been that last pledge which passed between my father and mother when they said good-bye to one another, and perhaps knew it was for ever so far as this bodily world is concerned. Was it anything about a poor little sleeping and whimpering creature like myself, who could not yet make any difference to any living being except the mother, or was it concerning far more important things, justice, clear honour, good will and duty, such as in the crush of time come upward with high natures? And if so was it not a promise from my mother, knowing everything to say nothing even at the quivering moment of lying beneath the point of death? This was a new idea for Betsy, who had concluded from the very first that the pledge must be on my father's part, to it, that he had vowed not to surrender or hurt himself in any way for the sake of his dear wife. And to my suggestion she could only say that she had never seen it in that light, but the landings were so narrow and the walls so soft that with all her duty staring her in the face neither she nor the best servant ever in an apron could be held responsible to repeat their very words. And her husband said that this was good, very good, so good as ever could be. And what was to show now from the mouth of anyone after 15, 16, 18, the years? After this I had no other word to say, being still too young to contradict people duly married and of one accord. No other word I mean upon that point, though still I had to ask upon matters more immediate, what was the next thing for me perhaps to do? And first of all it was settled among us that for me to present myself at the headquarters of Vipan, Goad, and Terrier would be a very clumsy and stupid proceeding, and perhaps even dangerous. Of course they would not reveal to me the author of those kind inquiries about myself which perhaps had cost the firm a very valuable life, the life of Mr. Goad himself. And while I should learn less than nothing from them they would most easily extract from me, or at any rate find out afterward where I was living and what I was doing and how I could most quietly be met and baffled, and perhaps even made away with, so as to save all further trouble. Neither was that the only point upon which I had resolved to do nothing. Ter Strouse was a very simple-minded man, yet full of true sagacity, and he warmly advised in his very worst English that none but my few trusty friends should be told of my visit to this country. Vy fought to make to know your enemies, he asked, with one finger on his forehead, which was his mode of indicating caution. Enemies find out very soon, too soon, soon enough. Begin to plot, no, no, young lady begin first. Villamina, your man say the right. Is it good or is it bad? It appeared to us both to be good, so far as might be judged for the present, and therefore I made up my mind to abstain from calling even on my father's agent, unless Mr. Shovelin should think it needful. In that and other matters I would act by his advice, and so with better spirits than I long had owned at finding so much kindness. With good hopes for the morrow I went to the snug little bedroom which my good nurse had provided. Alas! What was my little grief on the morrow compared to the deep and abiding loss of many by a good man's death? When I went to the door at which I had been told to knock it was long before I got an answer, and even when somebody came out at last, so far from being my guardian it was only a poor clerk who said, a schmiss, and then prayed that the will of the Lord might be done. Couldn't you see the half-shutters up? He continued rather roughly, tis a bad job for many a poor man today, and it seems no more than yesterday I was carrying him about. Do you mean Mr. Shovelin? I asked. Is he poorly? Has anything happened? I can wait or come again. The Lord has taken him to the mansions of the Just, from his private address at Sydenham Hill, a burning and shining light. May we, like him, be found watching in that day with our lamps trimmed and our loins girded. For the moment I was too surprised to speak, and the kind old man led me into the passage seeing how pale and faint I was. He belonged like his master and a great part of their business to simple religious persuasion, or faith, which now is very seldom heard of. It was just in this way, he said, as soon as tears enabled me to speak, for even at the first sight I had felt affection toward my new guardian. Our master is a very punctual man. For five and thirty years never late. Never late once till this morning. Excuse me, Miss. I ought to be ashamed the Lord knoweth what is best for us. Well, you threw him out a good bit yesterday, and there was other troubles. And he had to work late last night I hear, for through his work he would go, be it anyhow diligent in business, husbanding the time, and when he came down to breakfast this morning he prayed with his household as usual, but they noticed his voice rather weak and queer, and the mistress looked at him when he got up from his knees. But he drank his cup of tea and he ate his bit of toast, which was all he ever took for breakfast, but presently when his cob came up to the door, for he always rode in to business-miss, no matter what the weather was. He went to kiss his wife and his daughters all around, according to their ages, and he got through them all, and when away he fell down with a riding whip in one hand and expired on a piece of Indian matting. How terrible I exclaimed with a sob! And the poor old man, in spite of all his piety, was sobbing. No, Miss, not a bit of terror about it to a man prepared as he was. He had had some mourning a year ago, and the doctors all told him that he must leave off work. He could know more due without his proper work than he could do without error victuals. What this old established concern will do without him, our Divine Master only knows. And a pinch coming on in Thread Needle Street I hear, but scarcely I know what I am saying, Miss, I was thinking of the camel and the needle. I will not repeat what you have not meant to tell, I answered, seeing his confusion, and the clumsy turn he had made of it. Only tell me what, dear Mr. Shovelin died of. Heart disease, Miss, you might know in a moment nothing kills like that. His poor father died of it thirty years ago, and the better people are the more they get it. End of Chapter 28. Chapter 29 of Arama. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Linda Dodge. Arama by R. D. Blackmore. Chapter 29. At the Pump. This blow was so sharp and heavy that I lost for the moment all power to go on. The sense of ill fortune fell upon me as it falls upon stronger people when a sudden gleam of hope breaking through long troubles mysteriously fades away. Even the pleasure of indulging in the gloom of evil luck was a thing to be ashamed of now, when I thought of that good man's family thus without a moment's warning, robbed of love and hope and happiness. But Mrs. Strauss, who often brooded on predestination, embittered all my thoughts by saying, or rather, conveying without words, that my poor father's taint of some divine ill will had reappeared, and even killed his banker. Betsy held most low church views by nature being a dissenter. She called herself a Baptist. And in some strange way had stopped me thus from ever having been baptized. I do not understand these things. And the battles fought about them. But knowing that my father was a member of the English church, I resolved to be the same, and told Betsy that she ought not to set up against her master's doctrine. Then she herself became ashamed of trying to convert me, not only because of my ignorance, which made argument like shooting into the sea, but chiefly because she could mention no one of title with such theology. This settled the question at once, and remembering, to my shame, what opinions I had held even of Swan Isco while being in the very same predicament myself, reflecting also what Uncle Sam and Firm would have thought of me had they known it. I anticipated the major and his dinner party by going to a quiet ancient clergyman who examined me, and being satisfied with little, took me to an old city church of deep and damp retirement. And here, with a great din of traffic outside and mildewy depth of repose within, I was presented by certain sponsors, the clerk and his wife and his wife's sister, and heard good words and hope to keep the impression, both outward and inward, gently made upon me. I need not say that I kept and now received with authority my old name, though the clerk prefixed and aspirate to it, and indulged in two syllables only, but the ancient parson knew its meaning and looked at me with curiosity, yet being a gentleman of the old school put never a question about it. Now this being done, and full tidings thereof sent off to Mrs. Hawkin to save trouble to the butcher or other disappointment, I scarcely knew how to be moving next. Though move I must before very long, for it cost me a great deal of money to stay in European Square like this, albeit here Strauss was of all men the most generous, by his own avow, and his wife, by the same test, noble-hearted among women, yet each of them spoke of the other's pecuniary views in such a desponding tone, when the other was out of the way, and so lamented to have anything at all to say about cash, by compulsion of the other. Also both, when met together were so large and reckless, and not to be insulted by a thought of payment, that it came to pass that my money did nothing but run away between them. This was not their fault at all, but all my own, for being unable to keep my secret about the great nugget. The Major had told me not to speak of this, according to Wy's experience, and I had not the smallest intention of doing an atom of mischief in that way, but somehow or other it came out one night, when I was being pitied for my desolation, and all the charges against me began to be doubled from that moment. If this had been all, I should not have cared so much, being quite content that my money should go as fast, as it came into me. But there was another thing here which cost me as much as my board in lodgings and all the rest of my expenses, and that was the iron pump in European Square, for this pump stood in the very center of a huddled district of famine, filth, and fever, when once I had seen, from the leads of our house, the quag of reeking life around, the stubs and snags of chimney pots, the gashes among them, entitled streets, and the broken blanes, called houses, I was quite ashamed of paying anything to become a Christian. Betsy, who stood by me, said that it was better than it used to be, and that all these people lived in comfort of their own ideas, fiercely resented all interference, and were good to one another in their own rough way. It was more than three years since there had been a single murder among them, and even then the man who was killed confessed that he had deserved it. She told me also that in some mining district of Wales, well known to her, things were a great deal worse than here, although the people were not half so poor. And finally, looking at a ruby ring which I had begged her to wear always, for the sake of her truth to me, she begged me to be wiser than to fret about things that I could not change. All these people whose hovels I saw had the means of grace before them, and if they would not stretch forth their hands, it was only because they were vessels of wrath. Her pity was rather for our poor black brethren, who had never enjoyed no opportunities, and therefore must be castaways. Being a stranger and so young, and accustomed to receive my doctrine since I first went to America, I dropped all intention of attempting any good in places where I might be murdered. But I could not help looking at the pump which was in front, and the poor things who came there for water, and most of all the children. With these it was almost the joy of the day, and perhaps the only joy, to come into this little open space and stand, and put their backs up stiffly, and stare about, ready for some good luck to turn up, such as a horse to hold, or a man coming out of the docks with a half-penny to spare, and then, in failure of such golden hope, to dash about in and out, one after another, splashing and kicking over their own cans, kettles, jars, or buckets, and stretching their dirty little naked legs, and showing very often fine white chests and bright teeth, wet with laughter. And then, when this shivvy was done, and their quick little hearts beat aloud with glory, it was pretty to see them all rally round the pump as crafty as their bedders, and watching with sly humor each other's readiness to begin again. Then suddenly a sense of neglected duty would seize some little body with a hand to its side, nine times out of ten a girl, whose mother perhaps lay sick at home, and a stern idea of responsibility began to make the buckets clank. Then you might see, if you cared to do so, orderly management have its turn, a demand for pins and a tucking up of skirts, which scarcely seemed worthy of such a great young fuss, large children scolding little ones not a bit more muddy than themselves, but while the very least child of all, too young as yet for chivvian, and only come for company, would smooth her comparatively clean frock down, and look up at her sisters with condemnatory eyes. Trivial as they were, these things amused me much, and made a little checker of reflected light upon the cloud of selfish gloom, especially when the real work began, and the children, vying with one another, set to at the iron handle. This was too large for their little hands to grasp, and by means of some grievance inside, or perhaps through a cruel trick of the plumber, up went the long handle every time small fingers were too confiding, and there it stood, up like the tail of a rampant cow, or a branch inaccessible into an old shaw, or a cord of a peg-tup could be cast up on high to reduce it. But some engineering boy, quote, highly gifted, unquote, like Uncle Sam's self, quote, with machinery, unquote, had discovered an ingenious cure for this. With the help of the girls, he used to fashion a fat little thing, about twelve months old, in the bend of the middle of the handle, and there, like a ham on a steel-yard, hung this baby and enjoyed seesaw and laughed at its own utility. I never saw this, and the splashing and dribbling and play, and bright revelry of water, without forgetting all sad counsel and discretion, and rushing out as if the dingy pump were my own delicious blue river. People used to look at me from the windows with pity and astonishment, supposing me to be crazed, or frantic, especially the Germans. For to run out like this without a pocketful of money would have been insanity, and to run out with it, to their minds, was even clearer proof of that condition. For the money went as quickly as the water of the pump. On this side and on that it flew each child in succession, making deeper drain upon it, in virtue of still deeper woes. They were dreadful little storytellers, I am very much afraid, and the long faces pulled, as soon as I came out, in contrast with all the recent glee and frolic suggested to even the youngest charity suspicions of some inconsistency. However, they were so ingenious and clever that they worked my pockets like the pump itself, only with this unhappy difference, that the former had no inexhaustible spring of silver or even of copper, and thus by a reason, as cogent as any of more exalted nature, was I driven back to my headquarters, there to abide to a fresh supply should come. For Uncle Sam, generous and noble as he was, did not mean to let me melt all away at once my share of the great blue river nugget, any more than to make ducks and drinks of his own. Indeed, that rock of gold was still untouched, and healthily reposing in a banker's cellar in the good town of Sacramento. People were allowed to go in and see it upon payment of a dollar, and they came out so thirsty from feasting upon it that a bar was set up in a pile of money made. All the gentlemen and ladies, even worse than they, taking a reckless turn about small money after seeing that. But dear Uncle Sam refused every cent of the profit of all this excitable work. It was wholly against his wish that anything so artificial should be done at all, and his sense of religion condemned it. He said in his very first letter to me that even a heathen must acknowledge this champion nugget as the grandest work of the Lord yet discovered in America, a country more full of all works of the Lord than the rest of the world put together, and to keep it in a cellar without any heir or son graded harshly upon his ideas of right. However, he did not expect everybody to think exactly as he did, and if they could turn a few dollars upon it they were welcome as having large families. And the balance might go to his credit against the interest on any cash advance to him. Not that he meant to be very fast with this, never having run into debt in all of his life. This, put shortly, was the reason why I could not run to the pump any longer. I had come into England with money enough to last me, according to the Sawyer's calculations, for a year and a half of every needful work, whereas in less than half that time I was arriving at my last penny. This reminded me of my dear father, who was nearly always in trouble about money, although so strictly upright, and at first I was proud to be like him about this till I came to find the disadvantages. It must not even for a moment be imagined that this made any difference in the behavior of any one toward me. Mrs. Strauss, Herr Strauss, the lady on the stairs, and a very clever woman who had got no rooms but was kindly accommodated everywhere, as well as the Baron on the first floor front, and the gentleman from a hotel at Hanover, who looked out the other way, and even the children at the pump. Not one made any difference toward me, as an enemy might, perhaps suppose, because my last half-crown was gone. It was admitted upon every side that I ought to be forgiven for my random cast of money, because I knew no better, and was sure to have more in a very little time. And the children of the pump came to see me go away, through streets of mile and a half, I should think, and they carried my things, looking one after another, that none could run away. And being forbidden at the platform gate for want of respectability, they set up a cheer, and I waved my hat, and promised, amidst great applause, to come back with it full of sixpences. End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 of Arema. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Linda Dodge. Arema by R. D. Blackmore. Chapter 30. Cox and Coxcomes. Major Hawken bought the only fly as yet to be found in Brunsey to meet me at Newport, where the railway ended at present for want of further encouragement. Very soon you go, he cried out to the bulkheads, or buffers, or whatever, those things that close the career of a land engine. Station Master, you are very wise in putting in your very best cabbage plants here. You understand your own company. Well done. If I were to offer you a shilling apiece for those early young Yorks, what would you say now? Well, I think I should say no, sir. The Scotch Station Master made answer with a grin while he pulled off his cap of office and put on a dissolute glingary. They are a very fine keel that always pays for planting. The villain said the Major as I jumped into the fly. However, I suppose he does quite right. Set a thief to watch a thief. The company are big rogues, and he tries to be a bigger. We shall cut through his garden in about three months, just when the cabbages are getting firm, and their value will exceed that of pineapples. The surveyor will come down and certify, and, quote, damage to crops will be at least five pounds, when they have no right to sow even mustard and crests, and a saucepan would hold all the victuals on the land. From this I perceived that my host was as full of his speculative schemes as ever, and soon he made the driver of the one-horse-fly turn aside from the unfinst road and take the turf. Coachman, he cried, just drive along the railway and you won't have the chance much longer. There was no sod turned yet and no rod set up, but the driver seemed to know what was meant and took us over the springy turf, where once had run the river, and the soft breath of the sea came over the pebble ridge, full of appetite and briskness, after so much London. It is one of the saddest things I ever heard of, Major Hawkin began to say to me, poor shoveling, poor shoveling, a man of large capital, the very thing we want. It might have been the makin' of this place. I have very little doubt that I must have brought him to see our great natural advantages, the beauty of the situation, the celebrity of the air, the absence of all clay, or marsh, or noxious deposit, the bright, crisp turf, and the noble underlay of chalk, which, if you perceive my meaning, cannot retain any damp but transmits it into sweet natural wells. Why, driver, where the devil are you driving us? No fear, your honour, I know every trick of it. It won't come over the wheels, I do believe, and it does all the good in the world to his sand-cracks. Wo-ho, my boy, then! And the young lady's feet might go up upon the cushion, if her boots are thin, sir, and Mr. Rusper will excuse it. What the—something hot! Do you mean, sir, the major roared over the water, which seemed to be deepening as we went on? Pull out this instant! Pull out, I tell you, or you shall have three months' hard labour. May I be the—now, my dear, I beg your pardon for speaking with such sincerity. I simply mean, may I go straight away to the devil, if I don't put this fellow on the treadmill. Oh, you can pull out now, then, can't you? If your honour pleases, I never did pull in, the poor driver answered, being frightened at the excitement of the Lord of the Manor. My orders was, miss, to drive along the line, coming on now just to Brunsey, and keep in the middle of that same I did. And this here little wet is a accident. A accident of the full moon, I do assure you, and the wind coming over the sea, as you might say. These pebbles is too round-miss to stick to one another. You couldn't expect it of them, and sometimes the water here and there comes a-leakin' through the bottom. I have seeded it so, ever since I can remember. I don't believe a word of it, the Major said, as we waited a little for the vehicle to drain, and I made a nose-gay of the bright sea-flowers. Tell me no lies, sir. You belong to the West Brunseans, and you have driven us into a vile bog to scare me. They have bribed you. I see the whole of it. Tell me the truth, and you shall have five shillings. The driver looked over the marshes, as if he had never received such an offer before. Five shillings, for a falsehood, would have seen the proper thing, and have called for a balance of considerations, and made a demand upon his energies. But to earn five shillings by the truth had never fallen to his luck before, and he turned to me, because I smiled, and he said, Will you taste the water-miss? Bless me, cried the Major. Now I never thought of that. Common people have such ways about things they are used to. I might have stood here for a month, and never have thought a way to settle it. Ridiculously simple. Give me a taste, Arama. Ah, that is the real beauty of our coast, my dear. The strongest proportion of the saline element. I should know the taste of it anywhere. No seaweed, no fishy particles, no sludge, no beards of oysters. The pure, uncontaminated, perfect brine that sets every male and female on his legs. Varicose? Orthopedic? I forget their scientifics, but I know the smack of it. Certainly, I said, it is beautifully salt. It will give you an appetite for dinner, Major Hawken. I could drink a pint of it after all that smoke. But don't you think it is a serious thing for the sea itself to come pouring through the bottom of this pebble bank in this way? Not at all. No, I rather like it. It opens up many strictly practical ideas. It adds very much to the value of the land. For instance, a salt lake, as your sweet Yankees call it, and set up an infirmary for foot and mouth disease. And better still, the baz, the baz, my dear. No expense for piping or plumbing or anything. Only place your marble at the proper level, and twice a day you shall have the grand, salubrious, sparkling influx of ocean self, self-filtered and by its own operation permeated with a fine, salacious element. What foreign mud could compete with such a bath? But suppose in there should come too much of it, I said, and wash both the baz and the bathers away. Such an idea is ridiculous. It can be adjusted to a nicety. I am very glad I happened to observe this thing. This noble phenomenon. I shall speak to Montague about it at once, before I am a half an hour older. My dear, you have made a conquest. I quite forgot to tell you, but never mind that for the present. Driver, here is half a crown for you. Your master will put down the fly to my account. He owes me a Harriet. I shall claim his best beast, the moment he gets one without a broken wind. As the major spoke he got out, at his own door, with all his wanted alacrity, but instead of offering me his hand, as he always had done in London, he skipped up the nine steps on purpose, as I saw, that somebody else might come down for me, and this was Sir Montague Hawken. As I feared was only too likely from what had been said, if I had even suspected this gentleman was at Brentlands, I would have done my utmost to stay where I was, in spite of all absence of money. Betsy would gladly have allowed me to remain without paying even a farthing, until it should become convenient. Pride had forgiven me to speak of this. But I would have gotten over that pride much rather than meet this Sir Montague Hawken thus. Some instinct told me to avoid him altogether, and having so little now of any other guidance, I attached, perhaps, foolish importance to that. However, it was not the part of a lady to be rude to anyone who instinct, and I knew that already that in England young women are not quite such masters of their own behavior, as in the far west they are allowed to be. And so I did my best that, even in my eyes, he should not see how vexed I was at meeting him. And soon it appeared that this behavior, how painful to me, was no less wise than good, because both with my host and hostess this new visitor was already at the summit of all good graces. He had conquered the major by admiration of all his schemes and upshots, and even offering glimmers of the needful money in the distance. And Mrs. Hawken lay quite at his feet, ever since he had opened a hamper and produced a pair of frizzled vows, creatures of an extraordinary aspect, toothed, all over like a dandelion plant, with every feather sticking inside out. When I saw them I tried for my life not to laugh, and biting my lips very hard quite succeeded, until the cock opened up a pair of sleepy eyes, covered with comb and very sad inversions, and glancing with complacency at his wife, who stood beneath him, even more turned inside out, capered with his twiggy legs and gave a long sad crow. Mrs. Hawken looked at him with intense delight. Irrema, is it possible that you laugh? I thought you never laughed Irrema. At any rate, if you ever do indulge, you might choose a fitter opportunity, I think. You have spoiled his demonstration altogether. See, he does not understand such unkindness, and it is the very first he has uttered since he came. Oh, poor Flufsky! I am very, very sorry, but how was I to help it? I would not on any account have stopped him if I had known he was so sensitive. Flufsky, do please begin again. These beggars are nothing at all, I can assure you, said Sir Montague, coming to my aid, when Flufsky spurned all our prayers for one more crow. Mrs. Hawken, if you really would like to have a fowl, that even Lady Clara Crowcomb has not got. You shall have it in a week, or a fortnight, or at any rate a month, if I can manage it. They are not to be had except through certain channels, and the fellows who write the poultry books have never even heard of them. Oh, how delighted I should be! Lady Clara despises all her neighbors so. But do they lay eggs? Half the use of keeping poultry, when you never kill them, is to get an egg for breakfast. And Major Hawken looks round and says, Now this is our own, and I cannot say that it is, and I am vexed with the books. And he begins to laugh at me. People said it was for want of chalk, but they walk upon nothing but chalk, as you can see. And their food, Mrs. Hawken, they are walking upon that, starve them for a week, and forty eggs at least will reward you for stern discipline. But all this little talk I only tell to show how good and soft Mrs. Hawken was. And her husband, in spite of all his self-opinion, and resolute talk about money and manorial dues in his way, perhaps, was even less to be trusted to get his cash out of any poor and honest man. On the very day after my return from London, I received a letter from, quote, Colonel Gundry, as we almost always call the Sawyer now, though his can ship to the Major. And as it cannot easily be put into less compass, I may as well give his very words. Quote, Dear Ms. Sarayma, your last favor to hand with thanks. Everything is going on all right with us. The mill is built up and goes better than ever. More orders on hand than we can ever get through. We have not cracked the big nugget yet, except the government to take him at a trifle below value for Washington Museum. Must have your consent, but for my part would rather let him go there than break him. I'm ready to lose a few dollars upon him, particularly as he might crack up all Quartzie in the middle. They offer to take him by weight at three dollars and a half per pound below standard. Please say, if agreeable. I fear, my dear, that there are bad times coming for all of us here in this part. Not about money, but a long sight worse. Bad will. And contention. And rebellion, perhaps. What we hear concerning it is not much here, but even here thoughts are very much divided. Ephraim takes a different view from mine, which is not a right thing for a grandson to do. And neighbor Sylvester goes with him. The Lord send agreement and concord among us. But if he doeth so, he must change his mind first, for every man is borrowing his neighbor's gun. If there is anything that you can do to turn Ephraim back to his duty, my dear, I am sure that for the love of us you would do it. If Firm was to run away from me now and go fighting on behalf of slavery, I never should care more for naught upon the side of Jordan. And this new mill might go to Jericho, though it does look uncommon handsome now, I can assure you, and tears through its work like a tiger. Noting symptoms in your last of the price of things in England, and having carried over some to your account, enclosed pleased to find a bill for five hundred dollars, though not likely to be wanted yet. Save a care of your money, my dear, but pay your way handsome as a castle would would do. Jallard goes his rounds twice a day looking for you, and somebody else never hangs up his hat without casting one eye at the corner you know. Sylvester's girl was over here last week, dashing about as usual. If Firm goes south he may have her, for ought I care, and never see Saul mill again. But I hope that the Lord will spare my old days such disgrace and tribulation. About you know what, my dear, be not over anxious. I have been young, and now I am old, as the Holy Saul mis-says. Then the more I see of the ways of men the less I verily think of them. Their good esteem, their cap in hand, their fair fame as they call it, goes by accident. And fortune, the whim of the moment, and the way of the clever ones have of tickling them. A great man laughs at the flimsy of it, and a good one goes to his conscious. Your father saw these things at their value. I have often grieved that you cannot see them so, but perhaps I have liked you none the worse, my dear. Don't forget about going south. A word from you might stop him. It is almost the only hope I have, and even that may be too late. Suanesco and Martinson messages. The flowers are on your father's grave. I have got a large order for pine cradles in great haste, but have time to be, truly yours, Samson Gundry. That letter, while it relieved me in one way from the want of money, cost me more than ten times five hundred dollars worth of anxiety. The Sawyer had written to me twice ere this. Kind, simple letters, but of no importance, except for their goodness and affection. But now it was clear that when he wrote this letter he must have been sadly put out and upset. His advice to me was beyond all value, but he seemed to have kept none at home for himself. He was carried quite out of his large, staid ways when he wrote those bitter words about poor firm. The very apple of his eye, as the Holy Psalmist says. And, knowing the obstinacy of them both, I dreaded clash between them. End of Chapter 30 Chapter 31 of Arema This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Linda Dodge. Arema by R. D. Blackmore. Chapter 31, Adrift Having got money enough to last long with one brought up to simplicity and resolved to have nothing to do for a while with charity or furnished lodgings, what though kept by one's own nurse, I cast about now for good reason to be off from the busy works at Brunsey. So soon after such a tremendous blow it was impossible for me to push my own little troubles and concerns upon good Mr. Chauvelin's family, much as I longed to know what was to become of my father's will, if anything. But my desire to be doing something, or at least to get away for a time from Brunsey, was largely increased by Sir Montague Hawkins' strange behavior toward me. That young man, if he still could be called young, which at my age scarcely seemed to be his right, for he must have been ten years older than poor firm, began more and more every day to come after me, just when I wanted to be quite alone. There was nothing more soothing to my thoughts and mind, the latter getting quiet from the former, I suppose, than for the whole of me to rest for a while in such a little scallop of the shingle as a new moon tied in little crescents, leaves just below the high water mark. And now it was new moon tied again, a fortnight after the flooding of our fly by the activity of the full moon, and feeling how I longed to understand these things, which seemed to be denied to all who are of the same sex as the moon herself, I sat in a very nice nick where no wind could make me look worse than nature willed. But of my own looks I never did think twice, unless there was anyone to speak of such a subject. Here I was sitting in the afternoon of a gentle July day, wondering by what energy of nature all these countless pebbles were produced, and not even a couple to be found among them fit to lie side by side, and purely tally with each other, right and left for miles and miles, millions multiplied into millions, yet I might hold any one in my palm and be sure that it had never been there before. And of the quiet wavelets even, taking their own time and manner in default of will of wind, all to come and call attention to their doom by arching over, and endeavouring to make froth, were any two in sound and size, much more in shape and shade alike? Everyone had its own little business, a floating popweed or foam bubbles, or a blistered light to do, and everyone, having done it, died and subsided into its successor. A trifle sentimental, are we? cried a lively voice behind me, and the waves of my soft reflections fell, and instead of them stood Sir Montague Hawken with a hideous parasol. I never received him with worse grace, often as I had repulsed him, but he was one of those people who think that women are all whims and ways. I grieve to intrude upon large ideas, he said, as I rose and looked at him, but I act under positive orders now. A lady knows what is best for a lady. Mrs. Hawken has been looking from the window, and she thinks that you ought not to be sitting in the sun like this. There has been a case of sunstroke at Southbourne, a young lady meditating under the cliff, and she begs for you to accept this palm leaf. I thought of the many miles I had wandered under the fierce Californian sun, but I would not speak to him of that. Thank you, I said, it was very kind of her to think of it, and of you to do it. But will it be safe for you to go back without it? Oh, why should I do so? he answered, with a tone of mock pathos which provoked me always, although I never could believe it to be meant in ridicule of me, for that would have been too low a thing, and besides I never spoke so. Could you bear to see me slain by the shafts of the sun, Miss Castlewood? This parasol is amply large for both of us. I would not answer him in his own vein, because I never liked his vein at all, though I was not so entirely possessed as to want everybody to be like myself. Thank you, I mean to stay here, I said, and you may either leave the parasol or take it, whichever will be the less troublesome. At any rate, I shall not use it. A gentleman, according to my ideas, would have bowed and gone upon his way, but Sir Montague Hawkin would have no rebuff. He seemed to look upon me as a child such as average English girls, fresh from little schools would be. Nothing more annoyed me after all my thoughts and dream of some power in myself than this. Perhaps I might tell you a thing or two, he said, while I kept gazing at some fishing boats, and sat down again as a sign for him to go. A little thing or two which you have no idea, even your most lonely musings, which might have a very deep interest for you, do you think that I came to this hole to see the sea, or that fussy old muff of a major's doings? Perhaps you would like me to tell him your opinion of his intellect and great plans, I answered, and after all his kindness to you. You will never do that, he said, because you are a lady, and will not repeat what is said in confidence. I could help you materially in your great object, if you would only make a friend of me. And what would your own object be? The pure anxiety to do right? Partly, and I might say mainly that. Also an ambition for your good opinion, which seems so inaccessible. But you will think me selfish if I even hint at any condition of any kind. Everybody I have ever met with likes me, except Ms. Castlewood. As he spoke he glanced down his fine amber-colored beard, shining in the sun and even in the sun showing no gray hair, for a reason which Mrs. Hawkin told me afterward. And he seemed to think it hard that a man with such a beard should be valued lightly. I do not see why we should talk, I said, about either likes or dislikes. Only if you have anything to tell I shall be very much obliged to you. This gentleman looked at me in a way which I have often observed in England. A general idea there prevails that the free and enlightened natives of the West are in the front of those here in intelligence, and to some extent therefore in dishonesty. But there must be many cases where the two are not the same. No, I replied, while he was looking at his buttons, which had every British animal upon them, I mean nothing more than the simple thing I say. If you ought to tell me anything, tell it. I am accustomed to straightforward people, but they disappoint one by their never knowing anything. But I know something, he answered with a nod of grave mysterious import. And perhaps I will tell you someday, when admitted, if ever I have such an honor to some little degree a friendship. Oh, please not to think of yourself, I exclaimed, in a manner which must have amused him. In such a case the last thing that you should do is that. Think only of what is right and honorable, and your duty toward a lady. Also your duty to the laws of your country. I am not at all sure that you ought not to be arrested. But perhaps it is nothing at all, after all, only something invented to provoke me. In that case I can only drop the subject, he answered, with that stern gleam of the eyes which I had observed before and detested. I was also to tell you that we dine today, an hour before the usual time, that my cousin may go out in the boat for whiting. The sea will be smooth as glass, perhaps she will come with us. With these words he lifted his hat and went off, leaving me in a most uncomfortable state, as he must have known if he had even tried to think. For I could not get the smallest idea of what he meant. And much as I tried to believe that he must be only pretending, for reasons of his own, to have something important to tell me, scarcely was it possible to be contented so. A thousand absurd imaginations began to torment me as to what he meant. He lived in London so much, for instance, that he had much quicker chance of knowing whatever there was to know. Again he was a man of the world full of short, sharp, sagacity, and able to penetrate what I could not. Then, again, he kept a large account with shoveling weight and shoveling as major hawken chance to say, and I knew not that a banker's reserve is much deeper than his deposit. Moreover, which to my mind was almost stronger proof than anything, Sir Montague Hawken was of smuggling pedigree and likely to be skillful in illicit runs of knowledge. However, in spite of all this uneasiness, not another word would I say to him about it, waiting rather for him to begin again upon it. But, though I waited and waited, as perhaps, with any other person I scarcely could have done, he would not condescend to give me even another look about it. Disliking that gentleman more and more for his supercilious conduct and certainty of subduing me, I naturally turned again to my good host and hostess. But here there was very little helper support to be obtained at present. Major Hawken was laying the foundations of, quote, the Bruntsey Assembly Rooms, Library Institute, Mutual Improvement Association, Lyceum and Baz from Six Pints Upward, unquote, while Mrs. Hawken had a hatch of, quote, White Sultans, unquote, or rather a pro-long sitting of eggs fondly hoped to hatch at last, from having cost so much like a chicken hearted conference. Much as I sorrowed at her disappointment, for the sitting cost twelve guineas, I could not feel quite guiltless of a petty and ignoble smile, when, after hoping against hope, upon the thirtieth day she placed her beautifully sound eggs in a large bowl of warm water, in which they floated as calmly as if their price was a penny a dozen. The poor lady tried to believe that they were spinning with vitality, but at last she allowed me to break one, and lo, it had been half-boiled by the advertiser. "'This is very sad,' cried Mrs. Hawken, and the patient old hen, who was come in a basket of hay to see the end of it, echoed with a cluck that sentiment. These things, being so, I was left once more to follow my own guidance, which it seemed in the main to be my fortune ever since my father died. For one day Mr. Shovelin had appeared to my great joy and comfort as a guide and guardian, but alas, for one day only. And, except for his good advice and kind paternal conduct to me, it seemed at present an unlucky thing that I had ever discovered him. Not only through deep sense of loss and real sorrow for him, but also because Major Hawken, however good and great and generous, took it unreasonably into his head that I threw him over, and I threw myself, as with want of fine taste as he expressed it, into the arms of the banker. This hurt me very much, and I felt that Major Hawken could never have spoken so hastily unless his hair had been originally red, and so it might be detected even now where it survived itself, though blanched where he brushed it into that pretentious ridge. Sometimes I liked that man when his thoughts were large and liberal, but no sooner had he said a fine brave thing than he seemed to have an afterthought not to go too far with it, just that he had done about the poor robbed woman from the steerage and the young man who had pulled out his guinea. I paid him for my board and lodging upon a scale settled by Uncle Sam himself at California prices, and therefore I am under no obligation to conceal his foibles. But, take him altogether, he was good and brave and just, though unable, from absence of inner light, to be to me what Uncle Sam had been. When I perceived that the Major condemned my simple behavior in London, and if I may speak it as I said it to myself, quote, blue hot and cold, unquote, in half a minute, hot when I thought of any good things to be done, and cold as soon as he became the man to do them. Also, when I remembered what a chronic plague was now at Brunsey in the shape of Sir Montague, who went to and fro but could never be trusted to be far off, I resolved to do what I had long been thinking of, and believed that my guardian, if he had lived another day, would have recommended. I resolved to go and see Lord Castlewood, my father's first cousin and friend in need. When I asked my host and hostess what they thought of this, they both declared that it was a very thing that they were at the point of advising, which, however, they had foreborn from doing because I never took advice. At this, as being such a great exaggeration, I could not help smiling seriously, but I could not accept their sage opinion that, before I went to see my kinsman, I ought to write and ask his leave to do so, for that would have made it quite a rude thing to call, as I must still have done, if he should decline beforehand to receive me. Moreover, it would look as if I sought an invitation while only wanting an interview. Therefore, being now full of money again, I hired the flyman, who had made us taste the water, and taking the train at Newport and changing at two or three places as ordered, crossed many little streams and came to a fair river, which proved to be the Thames itself, a few miles above Redding. In spite of all the larger lessons of travel, adventure, and tribulation, my heart was throbbing with some rather small feelings, as for the first time I drew near to the home of my forefathers. I should have been sorry to find it ugly or mean or lying in a hall or even modern or insignificant, and when none of these charges could be brought against it, I was filled with highly discreditable pain that Providence had not seen fit to issue me into this world in a masculine form, in which case this fine property would, according to the rules of mankind, have been mine. However, I was very soon ashamed of such ideas, and sat down upon a bank to dispel them with the free and fair view around me. The builder of that house knew well both where to place and how to shape it, so as not to spoil the sight. It stood near the brow of a bosomming hill which sheltered it, both with wood and clevis, from the rigor and fury of the north and east, while in front the sloping foreground widened its soft lap of green. In bays and waves of rolling glass, pro-monitoried here and there by jutting copes or massive tree, and jotted now and then with cattle, as calm as boats at anchor, the range of sunny upland fell to the reedy fringe and clustered silence of deep river meadows. Here the timbs, in pleasant bends of gentleness and courtesy, yet with will of its own ways, being now a plenteous river, spreads low music and holds mirror to the woods and hills and fields, casting afar a broad still gleam, and on the banks presenting tremulous infinitude of flash. Now these things touched me all the more because none of them belonged to me, and, after thus trying to enlarge my views, I got up with much better heart and hurried on to have it over whatever it might be. A girl brought up in the real English way would have spent her last shelling to drive up to the door in the fly at the station, a most sad machine, but I thought it no disgrace to go in a more becoming manner. One scarcely ever acts up to the force of situation, and I went as quietly into that house as if it were Betsy Bowens. If anybody had been rude to me or asked who I was or a little thing of that sort, my spirit might have been up at once and found, as usually happens then, good reason to go down afterward. But happily there was nothing of the kind. An elderly man without any gaudy badges opened the door very quietly and begged my pardon before I spoke for asking me to speak softly. It was one of his lordship's very worst days, and when he was so every sound seemed to reach him. I took the hint and did not speak at all but followed him over deep madding into a little room to which he showed me. And then I gave him a little note, written before I left Betsy, and asked him whether he thought that his master was well enough to attend to it. He looked at me in a peculiar manner, for he had known my father well having conserved from his youth in the family. But he only asked whether my message was important. I answered that it was, but that I would wait for another time, rather than do any harm. But he said that however ill his master was, nothing provoked him more than to find that anything was neglected through it. And before I could speak again he was gone with my letter to Lord Castlewood. CHAPTER XXXII AT HOME Some of the miserable, and I might say strange, things which had befallen me from time to time unseasonably, now began to force their remembrance upon me. Such dark figures always seem to make the most of a nervous moment, when solid reason yields to fluttering fear and small misgivings. There anybody seems to lie as a stranded sailor lies, at the foot of a perpendicular cliff of most inhuman humanity, with all the world frowning down over the crest, and no one to throw a rope down. Often and often had I felt this want of anyone to help me, but the only way out of it seemed to be to do my best to help myself. Even now I had little hope, having been so often dashed and knowing that my father's cousin possessed no share of my father's strength. He might, at the utmost, give good advice, and help me with kind feeling, but if he wanted to do more surely he might have tried ere now. But my thoughts about this were cut short by a message that he would be glad to see me, and I followed the servant to the library. Here I found Lord Castlewood sitting in a high back chair, uncushioned and uncomfortable. When he saw me near him he got up and took my hand and looked at me, and I was pleased to find his face well-meaning, brave and generous. But even to rise from his chair was plainly no small effort to him, and he leaned upon a staff or crutch as he offered me a small white hand. Miss Castlewood, he said, with a very weak yet clear and silvery voice, for many years I have longed in vain and sought in vain to hear of you. I have not escaped all self-reproach, though my sense of want and energy, yet, such as I am, I have done my best, or do my best to think so. I am sure you have, I replied, without thinking, knowing his kindness to my father and feeling the shame of my own hot words to Mr. Shovelin about him. I owe you more gratitude than I can tell for your goodness to my dear father. I am not come now to trouble you, but because it was my duty. While I was speaking he managed to lead me, feebly as himself could walk, to a deep chair for reading or some such use, whereof I have had few chances, and in every step and word and gesture I recognize that foreign grace which true-born Britons are proud to despise on both sides of the Atlantic, and being in the light I watched him well because I am not a foreigner. In the clear summer light of the western sun, which is better for accurate uses than the radiance of the morning, I saw a firm, calm face, which might in good health have been powerful, a face which might be called the moonlight image of my father's. I could not help turning away to cry, and suspicion fled forever. My dear young cousin, he said, as soon as I was fit to speak to. Your father trusted me, and so must you. You may think that I have forgotten you, or done very little to find you out. It was no indifference, no forgetfulness. I have not been able to work myself, and I have had very deep trouble of my own. He leaned on his staff and looked down at me, for I had sat down when thus overcome, and I knew that the forehead and eyes were those of a learned and intellectual man. How I knew this it was impossible to say, for I never had met with such a character as this, unless it were the abbey of Fletchon, when I was only fourteen years old, and valued his great skill at spinning a top tenfold more than all his deep learning. Lord Castlewood had long, silky hair falling in curls of silver gray upon either side of his beautiful forehead, and the gaze of his soft eyes was sad, gentle, yet penetrating. Weak health and almost constant pain had chastened his delicate features to an expression almost feminine, though firm, thin lips and rigid lines showed masculine will and fortitude. And when he spoke of his trouble, which perhaps he would not have done except for consolation's sake, I knew that he meant something even more grievous than bodily anguish. It is hard, he said, that you, so young and healthy and full of high spirit as you are, unless your face belies you, should begin the best years of your life, as common opinion puts such things in a cloud of gloom and shame. There is no shame at all, I answered, and if there is gloom I am used to that. And so was my father for years and years. What is my trouble compared with his? Your trouble is nothing when compared with his so far as regards the mere weight of it, but he was a strong man to carry his load, and you are a young and sensitive woman. The burden may be even worse for you. Now tell me all about yourself and what has brought you to me. His voice was so quiet and soothing that I seemed to rest beneath it. He had not spoken once of religion or the will of God, nor plied me at all with all those pious illusions which even to the reverent mind are like illusions when so urged. Lord Castlewood had too deep a sense of the will of God to know what it is, and he looked at me wistfully, as one who might have worse experience of it. Falling happily under his influence as his clear, kind eyes met mine, I told him everything I could think of about my father and myself, and all I wanted to do next, and how my heart and soul were set upon getting to the bottom of everything, and while I spoke with spirit or softness or, I fear sometimes with hate, I could not help seeing that he was surprised, but not wholly displeased with my energy. And then when all was exhausted came the old question I had heard so often and found so hard to answer. And what do you propose to do next, Erema? To go to the very place itself I said, speaking strongly under challenge, though quite unresolved about such a thing before, to live in the house where my father lived, and my mother and all of the family died, and from day to day to search every corner and fish up every bit of evidence until I get hold of the true man at last of the villain who did it, who did it and left my father and all the rest of us to be condemned and die for it. Erema replied my cousin, as he had told me now to call him, you are too impetuous for such work, and it is wholly unfit for you. For such a task, persons of train, sagacity, and keen observation are needed, and after all these eighteen years, or nearly nineteen now it must be, there cannot be anything to discover there. But if I like, may I go there, cousin, if only to satisfy my own mind? I am miserable now at Bruntse, and Sir Montague Hawkin wears me out. Sir Montague Hawkin, Lord Castle would exclaim, why did you not tell me that he was there? Wherever he is, you should not be. Oh, I forgot to speak of him. He does not live there, but is continually to and fro for bathing or fishing or rabbit shooting or any other pretext, and he makes the place very unpleasant to me. Kind is the major, and Mrs. Hawkin are, because I can never make him out at all. Do not try to do so, my cousin answered, looking at me earnestly. Be content to know nothing of him, my dear, if you can put up with a very dull house, and a host who is even duller, come here and live with me, as your father would have wished, and as I, your nearest relative, now ask and beg of you. That was wonderfully kind, and for a moment I felt tempted. Lord Castle, when being an elderly man, and as the head of our family, my natural protector, there could be nothing wrong, and there might be much that was good in such an easy arrangement. But, on the other hand, it seemed to me that, after this, my work would languish, living in comfort and prosperity under the roof of my forefathers, beyond any doubt I should begin to fall into habits of luxury, and to take to the love of literature, which I knew to be latent within me, to lose a clear, strong, practical sense of the duty for which I, the last of seven, was spared, and in some measure, perhaps, by wanderings and by hardships fitted. And then I thought of my host's weak health, continual pain, the signs of which were hardly repressed even while he was speaking, and probably also his secluded life. Was it fair to force him, by virtue of his inborn kindness and courtesy, to come out of his privileges and deal with me, who could not be altogether in any place a mere nobody? And so I refused his offer. I am very much obliged to you indeed, I said, but I think you might be sorry for it. I will come and stop with you every now and then, when your health is better, and you ask me. But to live here altogether would not do. I should like it too well and do nothing else. Perhaps you are right, he replied, with the air of one who cares little for anything, which is, to me, the most melancholy thing, and worse than any distress almost. You are very young, my dear, and years should be allowed to pass before you know what full-grown sorrow is. You have had enough for your age of it. You had better not live in this house. It is not a house for cheerfulness. Then, if I must neither live here nor at Brunsey, I asked, with sudden remonstrance, feeling as if everybody desired to be quit of me or to worry me. To what place in all the world am I to go, unless it is back to America? I will go at once to Shoxford and take lodgings of my own. Perhaps you had better wait a little while, Lord Castle would answer gently, although I would much rather have you at Shoxford than where you are at present, but please to remember my good arena that you cannot go to Shoxford all alone. I have a most faithful and trusty man, the one who opened the door to you. He has been here before his remembrance. He disdains me still, as compared with your father. Will you have him to superintend you? I scarcely see how you can do any good, but if you do go, you must go openly and as your father's daughter. I have no intention whatever of going in any other way, Lord Castle would, but perhaps, I continued, it would be as well to make as little stir as possible. Of an English village I know nothing but the little I have seen at Brunsey, but there they make a very great fuss about anyone who comes down with a man-servant. To be sure, replied my cousin with a smile, they would not be true Britons otherwise. Perhaps you would do better without Stixon, but, of course, you must not go alone. Could you by any means persuade your old nurse Betsy to go with you? How good of you to think of it, and how wise you are. I really could not help saying as I gazed at his delicate and noble face. I am sure that if Betsy can come, she will, though, of course, she must be compensated well for the waste all her lodgers will make of it. They are very wicked and eat most dreadfully if she even takes one day's holiday. What do you think they even do? She has told me with tears in her eyes of it. They are all allowed a pat of butter, a penny roll, and two sardines for breakfast. No sooner than they know her back is turned. Eremah cried my cousin with some surprise, and being so recalled I was ashamed. But I never could help taking interest in the very little things indeed until my own common sense, or someone else, came to tell me what a child I was. However, I do believe that Uncle Sam liked me all the better for this fault. My dear, I do not mean to blame you, Lord Castlewood said, most kindly. It must be a great relief for you to look on at other people, but tell me, or rather since you have told me almost everything you know, let me, if only in one way that I can help you, help you at least in that way. Knowing that he must mean money, I declined from no false pride, but a set resolve to work out my work if possible through my own resources. But I promise to apply to him at once if scarcity should again befall me, as had happened lately. Then I longed to ask him why he seemed to have such a low opinion of Sir Montague Hawken. That question, however, I feared to put, because it might not be a proper one, and also because my cousin had spoken in a very strange tone, as if of some private dislike or reserve on that subject. Moreover, it was too evident that I had tried his courtesy long enough. From time to time pale shades of bodily pain and then hot flushes had flitted across his face, like clouds on a windy summer evening, and more than once he had glanced at the timepiece. Not to hurry me, but as if he dreaded its announcements. It was a beautiful clock and struck with a silvery sound every quarter of an hour. And now, as I rose up to say good-bye to catch my evening train, it struck a quarter to five, and my cousin stood up with his weight upon his staff, and looked at me with an inexpressible depth of weary misery. I have only a few minutes left, he said, during which I can say anything. My time is divided into two sad parts. The time when I am capable of very little, and the time when I am capable of nothing, and the latter part is twice the length of the other. For sixteen hours of every day far better had I be dead than living, so far as our own little insolence may judge. But I speak of it only to excuse bad manners, and perhaps I show worse by doing so. I shall not be able to see you again until tomorrow morning. Do not go, they will arrange all that. Send a note to Major Hocken by Stixon's boy. Stixon and Mrs. Price will see to your comfort if those who are free from pain may require other comfort. Forgive me, I did not mean to be rude. Sometimes I cannot help giving away. Less enviable than the poorest slave. Lord Castle would sank upon his hard, stiff chair, and straightened his long, narrow hands upon his knees, and set his thin lips in a straight blue line. Each hand was as rigid as the ivory handle of an umbrella or walking stick, and his lips were like clamped wire. This was his regular way of preparing for the onset of night, so that no grimace, no cry, no moan or other token of fierce agony should be wrung from him. My lord will catch it stiff tonight, said Mr. Stixon, who came as I rang, and then led me away to the drawing room. He always have it ten times worse after any talk and or anything to upset him like, and then so miss, excuse a humble servant, did I understand from him that you was the captain's own daughter? Yes, but surely your master wants you. He is in such dreadful pain. Do please to go to him and do something. There is nothing to be done, miss, Stixon answered with calm resignation. He is bound to stay so for sixteen hours, and then he eases off again. But bless my heart, miss, excuse me in your presence. His lordship is thoroughly used to it. It is my certain knowledge that for seven years now he has never had seven minutes free from pain. Seven minutes, all of a heap, I mean. Some do say, miss, as the lord doeth everything according to his righteousness, that the reason is not very far to seek. I ask him what he meant, though I ought perhaps to have put a stop to his lexicity, and he pretended not to hear, which made me ask him all the more. A better man never lived than my lord, he answered, with a little shock at my misprison. But it has been said among sensorious persons that nobody ever had no luck, as came in suddenly to a property and a high state of life on top of the heads of a family of seven. What a poor superstition, I cried, though I was not quite sure of its being a wicked one. But what is your master's malady, Stixon? Surely there might be something done to relieve his violent pain, even though there is no real cure for it? No, miss, nothing can be done. The doctors have exhaust themselves, they tried this and that and the other, but nature only flew worse against them, tis a thing as was never heard of, till the Constitution was knocked on the head to pieces by the reform bill. And though they couldn't cure it, done what they could do, miss, they discovered a very good name for it. They christened at the new rager. End of chapter 32.