Springhaven - R. D. Blackmore
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But now he did his duty softly, as if some of it had been done to him;
and if anybody thanked him for a fine discourse, he never endeavoured
to let him have it all again. So far was he gone from his natural state
that he would rather hear nothing about himself than be praised enough
to demand reply; and this shows a world-wide depression to have arrived
in the latitude of a British waistcoat. However, he went through his
work, as a Briton always does, until he hangs himself; and he tried
to try some of the higher consolation, which he knew so well how to
administer to others.
Those who do not understand the difference of this might have been
inclined to blame him; but all who have seen a clever dentist with the
toothache are aware that his knowledge adds acuteness to the pain. Mr.
Twemlow had borne great troubles well, and been cheerful even under
long suspense; but now a disappointment close at home, and the grief
of beholding his last hopes fade, were embittered by mystery and dark
suspicions. In despair at last of recovering his son, he had fastened
upon his only daughter the interest of his declining life; and now he
was vexed with misgivings about her, which varied as frequently as she
did. It was very unpleasant to lose the chance of having a grandchild
capable of rocking in a silver cradle; but that was a trifle compared
with the prospect of having no grandchild at all, and perhaps not even
a child to close his eyes. And even his wife, of long habit and fair
harmony, from whom he had never kept any secret--frightful as might be
the cost to his honour--even Mrs. Twemlow shook her head sometimes, when
the arrangement of her hair permitted it, and doubted whether any of the
Carne Castle Carnes would have borne with such indignity.
"Prosecute him, prosecute him," this good lady always said. "You ought
to have been a magistrate, Joshua--the first magistrate in the Bible was
that--and then you would have known how to do things. But because you
would have to go to Sir Charles Darling--whose Sir can never put him on
the level of the Carnes--you have some right feeling against taking out
a summons. In that I agree with you; it would be very dreadful here. But
in London he might be punished, I am sure; and I know a great deal
about the law, for I never had any one connected with me who was not
a magistrate; the Lord Mayor has a Court of his own for trying the
corporation under the chair; and if this was put properly before him by
a man like Mr. Furkettle, upon the understanding that he should not be
paid unless he won his case, I am sure the result would be three years'
imprisonment. By that time he would have worn out his coat with jailer's
keys upon it, which first attracted our poor Eliza; or if he was not
allowed to wear it, it would go out of fashion, and be harmless. No one
need know a word about it here, for Captain Stubbard would oblige us
gladly by cutting it out of the London papers. My dear, you have nobody
ill in the parish; I will put up your things, and see you off to-morrow.
We will dine late on Friday, to suit the coach; and you will be quite
fit for Sunday work again, if you keep up your legs on a chair all
Saturday."
"If ever I saw a straightforward man," Mr. Twemlow used to answer, "it
was poor Percival Shargeloes. He is gone to a better world, my dear.
And if he continued to be amenable to law, this is not a criminal, but a
civil case."
"A nice case of civility, Joshua! But you always stand up for your sex.
Does the coach take people to a better world? A stout gentleman, like
him, was seen inside the coach, muffled up in a cravat of three colours,
and eating at frequent intervals."
"The very thing poor Percival never did. That disposes to my mind of
that foolish story. My dear, when all truth comes to light, you will do
justice to his memory."
"Yes, I dare say. But I should like to do it now. If you entertain any
dark ideas, it is your duty to investigate them. Also to let me share
them, Joshua, as I have every right to do."
This was just what the Rector could not do; otherwise he might have been
far more happy. Remembering that last conversation with his prospective
son-in-law, and the poor man's declaration that the suspicious matter at
the castle ought to be thoroughly searched out at once, he nourished a
dark suspicion, which he feared to impart to his better half, the
aunt of the person suspected. But the longer he concealed it, the more
unbearable grew this misery to a candid nature, until he was compelled,
in self-defence, to allow it some sort of outlet. "I will speak to the
fellow myself," he said, heartily disliking the young man now, "and
judge from his manner what next I ought to do."
This resolution gave him comfort, much as he hated any interview with
Carne, who treated him generally with cold contempt. And, like most
people who have formed a decision for the easing of the conscience, he
accepted very patiently the obstacles encountered. In the first place,
Carne was away upon business; then he was laid up with a heavy cold;
then he was much too hard at work (after losing so much time) to be able
to visit Springhaven; and to seek him in his ruins was most unsafe, even
if one liked to do it. For now it was said that two gigantic dogs, as
big as a bull and as fierce as a tiger, roved among the ruins all day,
and being always famished, would devour in two minutes any tempting
stranger with a bit of flesh or fat on him. The Rector, patting his
gaiters, felt that instead of a pastor he might become a very sweet
repast to them, and his delicacy was renewed and deepened. He was bound
to wait until his nephew appeared at least inside his parish.
Therefore the time of year was come almost to the middle of February
when Mr. Twemlow at last obtained the chance he required and dreaded. He
heard that his nephew had been seen that day to put up his horse in the
village, and would probably take the homeward road as soon as it grew
too dark to read. So he got through his own work (consisting chiefly of
newspaper, dinner, and a cool clay pipe, to equalise mind with matter),
and having thus escaped the ladies, off he set by the lobby door,
carrying a good thick stick. As the tide would be up, and only deep
sand left for the heavy track of the traveller, he chose the inland way
across the lower part of the Admiral's grounds, leading to the village
by a narrow plank bridge across the little stream among some trees. Here
were banks of earth and thicket, shadowy dells where the primrose grew,
and the cuckoo-pint, and wood-sorrel, and perhaps in summer the glowworm
breathed her mossy gleam under the blackberries.
And here Parson Twemlow was astonished, though he had promised himself
to be surprised no more, after all he had been through lately. As he
turned a sharp corner by an ivied tree, a breathless young woman ran
into his arms.
"Oh!" cried the Rector, for he was walking briskly, with a
well-nourished part of his system forward--"oh, I hope you have not hurt
yourself. No doubt it was my fault. Why, Dolly! What a hurry you are in!
And all alone--all alone, almost after dark!"
"To be sure; and that makes me in such a hurry;" Miss Dolly was in sad
confusion. "But I suppose I am safe in my father's own grounds."
"From everybody, except yourself, my dear," Mr. Twemlow replied,
severely. "Is your father aware, does your sister know, that you are
at this distance from the house after dark, and wholly without a
companion?"
"It is not after dark, Mr. Twemlow; although it is getting darker than
I meant it to be. I beg your pardon for terrifying you. I hope you
will meet with no other perils! Good-night! Or at least I mean,
good-afternoon!"
"The brazen creature!" thought Mr. Twemlow, as the girl without another
word disappeared. "Not even to offer me any excuse! But I suppose she
had no fib handy. She will come to no good, I am very much afraid. Maria
told me that she was getting very wilful; but I had no idea that it was
quite so bad as this. I am sorry for poor Scudamore, who thinks her such
an angel. I wonder if Carne is at the bottom of this? There is nothing
too bad for that dark young man. I shall ascertain at any rate whether
he is in the village. But unless I look sharp I shall be too late to
meet him. Oh, I can't walk so fast as I did ten years ago."
Impelled by duty to put best leg foremost, and taking a short-cut above
the village, he came out upon the lane leading towards the castle, some
half-mile or so beyond the last house of Springhaven. Here he waited to
recover breath, and prepare for what he meant to say, and he was sorry
to perceive that light would fail him for strict observation of his
nephew's face. But he chose the most open spot he could find, where the
hedges were low, and nothing overhung the road.
Presently he heard the sound of hoofs approaching leisurely up the hill,
and could see from his resting-place that Carne was coming, sitting
loosely and wearily on his high black horse. Then the Rector, to cut
short an unpleasant business, stood boldly forth and hailed him.
"No time for anything now," shouted Carne; "too late already. Do you
want my money? You are come to the wrong man for that; but the right
one, I can tell you, for a bullet."
"Caryl, it is I, your uncle Twemlow, or at any rate the husband of your
aunt. Put up your pistol, and speak to me a minute. I have something
important to say to you. And I never can find you at the castle."
"Then be quick, sir, if you please;" Carne had never condescended to
call this gentleman his uncle. "I have little time to spare. Out with
it."
"You were riding very slowly for a man in a hurry," said the Rector,
annoyed at his roughness. "But I will not keep you long, young man. For
some good reasons of your own you have made a point of avoiding us, your
nearest relatives in this country, and to whom you addressed yourself
before you landed in a manner far more becoming. Have I ever pressed my
attentions upon you?"
"No, I confess that you have not done that. You perceived as a gentleman
how little there was in common between the son of a devoted Catholic and
a heretic clergyman."
"That is one way to put it," Mr. Twemlow answered, smiling in spite of
his anger at being called a heretic; "but I was not aware that you had
strong religious views. However that may be, we should have many things
in common, as Englishmen, at a time like this. But what I came to speak
of is not that. We can still continue to get on without you, although
we would rather have met with friendly feeling and candour, as becomes
relatives. But little as you know of us, you must be well aware that
your cousin Eliza was engaged to be married to a gentleman from London,
Mr. Percival Shargeloes, and that he--"
"I am sure I wish her all happiness, and congratulate you, my dear sir,
as well as my aunt Maria. I shall call, as soon as possible, to offer
my best wishes. It was very kind of you to tell me. Goodnight, sir,
good-night! There is a shower coming."
"But," exclaimed the Rector, nonplussed for the moment by this view
of the subject, yet standing square before the horse, "Shargeloes has
disappeared. What have you done with him?"
Carne looked at his excellent uncle as if he had much doubt about his
sanity. "Try to explain yourself, my dear sir. Try to connect your
ideas," he said, "and offer me the benefit another time. My horse is
impatient; he may strike you with his foot."
"If he does, I shall strike him upon the head," Mr. Twemlow replied,
with his heavy stick ready. "It will be better for you to hear me out.
Otherwise I shall procure a search-warrant, and myself examine your
ruins, of which I know every crick and cranny. And your aunt Maria shall
come with me, who knows every stone even better than you do. That would
be a very different thing from an overhauling by Captain Stubbard. I
think we should find a good many barrels and bales that had paid no
duty."
"My dear uncle," cried Carne, with more affection than he ever yet had
shown, "that is no concern of yours; you have no connection with the
Revenue; and I am sure that Aunt Maria would be loth to help in pulling
down the family once more. But do as you please. I am accustomed to
ill fortune. Only I should like to know what this is about poor Cousin
Eliza. If any man has wronged her, leave the case to me. You have no son
now, and the honour of the family shall not suffer in my hands. I will
throw up everything, busy as I am, to make such a rascal bite the dust.
And Eliza so proud, and so upright herself!"
"Caryl," said his uncle, moved more than he liked to show by this
fine feeling, "you know more, I see, than you liked to show at first,
doubtless through goodwill to us. Your dear aunt wished to keep the
matter quiet, for the sake of poor Eliza, and her future chances. But I
said--No. Let us have it all out. If there is wrong, we have suffered,
not done it. Concealment is odious to every honest mind."
"Deeply, deeply odious. Upon that point there can be no two
opinions"--he forgets his barrels, thought the Rector--"but surely this
man, whatever his name is--Charleygoes--must have been hiding from you
something in his own history. Probably he had a wife already. City men
often do that when young, and then put their wives somewhere when
they get rich, and pay visits, and even give dinners, as if they were
bachelors to be sought after. Was Charleygoes that sort of a man?"
"His name is 'Shargeloes,' a name well known, as I am assured, in the
highest quarters. And he certainly was not sought after by us, but came
to me with an important question bearing on ichthyology. He may be a
wanderer, as you suggest, and as all the ladies seem to think. But my
firm belief is to the contrary. And my reason for asking you about him
is a very clear one. He had met you twice, and felt interest in you as
a future member of our family. You had never invited him to the castle;
and the last intention he expressed in my hearing was to call upon you
without one. Has he met with an accident in your cellars? Or have your
dogs devoured him? He carried a good deal of flesh, in spite of all he
could do to the contrary; and any man naturally might endeavour to hush
up such an incident. Tell me the truth, Caryl. And we will try to meet
it."
"My two dogs (who would never eat any one, though they might pull down
a stranger, and perhaps pretend to bite him) arrived here the first week
in January. When did Charleygoes disappear? I am not up in dates, but it
must have been weeks and weeks before that time. And I must have heard
of it, if it had happened. I may give you my honour that Orso and Leo
have not eaten Charleygoes."
"You speak too lightly of a man in high position, who would have been
Lord Mayor of London, if he had never come to Springhaven. But living
or dead, he shall never be that now. Can you answer me, in the same
straightforward manner, as to an accident in your cellars; which, as a
gentleman upon a private tour, he had clearly no right to intrude upon?"
"I can answer you quite as clearly. Nothing accidental has happened in
my cellars. You may come and see them, if you have any doubt about it.
And you need not apply for a search-warrant."
"God forbid, my dear fellow," cried the uncle, "that I should intrude
upon any little matters of delicacy, such as are apt to arise between
artificial laws and gentlemen who happen to live near the sea, and to
have large places that require restoring! I shall go home with a
lighter heart. There is nothing in this world that brings the comfort of
straightforwardness."
CHAPTER LIII
TIME AND PLACE
In a matter like that French invasion, which had been threatened for
such a time, and kept so long impending, "the cry of wolf" grows stale
at last, and then the real danger comes. Napoleon had reckoned upon
this, as he always did upon everything, and for that good reason he had
not grudged the time devoted to his home affairs. These being settled
according to his will, and mob turned into pomp as gaily as grub turns
into butterfly, a strong desire for a little more glory arose in his
mighty but ill-regulated mind. If he could only conquer England, or even
without that fetch her down on her knees and make her lick her own dust
off the feet of Frenchmen, from that day forth all the nations of the
earth must bow down before him. Russia, Prussia, Austria, Spain, though
they might have had the power, never would have plucked the spirit up,
to resist him hand in hand, any more than skittle-pins can back one
another up against the well-aimed ball.
The balance of to-be or not-to-be, as concerned our country (which many
now despise, as the mother of such disloyal children), after all that
long suspension, hung in the clouds of that great year; and a very
cloudy year it was, and thick with storms on land and sea. Storm was
what the Frenchmen longed for, to disperse the British ships; though
storm made many an Englishman, pulling up the counterpane as the window
rattled, thank the Father of the weather for keeping the enemy ashore
and in a fright. But the greatest peril of all would be in the case of
fog succeeding storm, when the mighty flotilla might sweep across before
our ships could resume blockade, or even a frigate intercept.
One of the strangest points in all this period of wonders, to us who
after the event are wise, is that even far-sighted Nelson and his
watchful colleagues seem to have had no inkling of the enemy's main
project. Nelson believed Napoleon to be especially intent on Egypt;
Collingwood expected a sudden dash on Ireland; others were sure that
his object was Jamaica; and many maintained that he would step ashore
in India. And these last came nearest to the mark upon the whole, for a
great historian (who declares, like Caryl Carne, that a French invasion
is a blessing to any country) shows that, for at least a month in the
spring of 1805, his hero was revolving a mighty scheme for robbing poor
England of blissful ravage, and transferring it to India.
However, the master of the world--as he was called already, and meant
soon to be--suddenly returned to his earlier design, and fixed the vast
power of his mind upon it. He pushed with new vigour his preparations,
which had been slackened awhile, he added 30,000 well-trained soldiers
to his force already so enormous, and he breathed the quick spirit
of enterprise into the mighty mass he moved. Then, to clear off all
obstacles, and ensure clear speed of passage, he sent sharp orders to
his Admirals to elude and delude the British fleets, and resolved to
enhance that delusion by his own brief absence from the scene.
Meanwhile a man of no importance to the world, and of very moderate
ambition, was passing a pleasant time in a quiet spot, content to
be scarcely a spectator even of the drama in rehearsal around him.
Scudamore still abode with M. Jalais, and had won his hearty friendship,
as well as the warm good-will of that important personage Madame Fropot.
Neither of these could believe at first that any Englishman was kind
and gentle, playful in manner, and light-hearted, easily pleased, and
therefore truly pleasing. But as soon as they saw the poor wounded ox
brought home by a ford, and settled happily in the orchard, and received
him as a free gift from their guest, national prejudices dwindled very
fast, and domestic good feeling grew faster. M. Jalais, although a sound
Frenchman, hated the Empire and all that led up to it; and as for
Madame Fropot, her choicest piece of cookery might turn into cinders,
if anybody mentioned conscription in her presence. For she had lost
her only son, the entire hope of her old days, as well as her only
daughter's lover, in that lottery of murder.
Nine out of ten of the people in the village were of the same way of
thinking. A great army cannot be quartered anywhere, even for a week,
without scattering brands of ill-will all around it. The swagger of the
troops, their warlike airs, and loud contempt of the undrilled swain,
the dash of a coin on the counter when they deign to pay for anything,
the insolent wink at every modest girl, and the coarse joke running
along apish mouths--even before dark crime begins, native antipathy is
sown and thrives. And now for nearly four years this coast had never
been free from the arrogant strut, the clanking spur, and the loud
guffaw, which in every age and every clime have been considered the
stamp of valour by plough-boys at the paps of Bellona. So weary was the
neighbourhood of this race, new conscripts always keeping up the pest,
that even the good M. Jalais longed to hear that the armament lay at
the bottom of the Channel. And Scudamore would have been followed by the
good wishes of every house in the village, if he had lifted his hat and
said, "Good-bye, my dear friends; I am breaking my parole."
For this, though encouraged by the popular voice, he was not
sufficiently liberal, but stayed within bounds of space and time more
carefully than if he had been watched. Captain Desportes, who had been
in every way a true friend to him, came to see him now and then, being
now in command of a division of the prames, and naturally anxious for
the signal to unmoor. Much discourse was held, without brag on either
side, but with equal certainty on both sides of success. And in one of
these talks the Englishman in the simplest manner told the Frenchman all
that he had seen on Christmas Eve, and his own suspicions about it.
"Understand this well," continued Scudamore; "if I discover any
treachery on the part of my own countrymen, I shall not be able to stop
here on the terms that have been allowed me. Whatever the plan may be,
I shall feel as if I were a party to it, if I accepted my free range
and swallowed my suspicions. With your proceedings I do not meddle,
according to fair compact, and the liberal conditions offered. But to
see my own countrymen playing my country false is more than I could
stand. You know more of such things than I do. But if you were an
Englishman, could you endure to stand by and hide treachery, for the
sake of your own comfort?"
"Beyond a doubt, no," Captain Desportes answered, spreading his hand
with decision: "in such a case I should throw up my parole. But a mere
suspicion does not justify an act so ungracious to the commander, and
personally so unkind to me. I hoped that bright eyes might persuade you
to forego hard knocks, and wear none but gentle chains among us. Nature
intended you for a Frenchman. You have the gay heart, and the easy
manner, and the grand philosophy of our great nation. Your name is
Blyth, and I know what that intends."
Scudamore blushed, for he knew that Madame Fropot was doing her best to
commit him with a lovely young lady not far off, who had felt a tender
interest in the cheerful English captive. But after trying to express
once more the deep gratitude he felt towards those who had been so
wonderfully kind and friendly, he asked with a smile, and a little sigh
behind it, what he must do, if compelled by duty to resign his present
privileges.
"My faith! I scarcely know," replied Desportes; "I have never had such
a case before. But I think you must give me a written notice, signed by
yourself and by M. Jalais, and allow a week to pass, and then, unless
you have heard from me, present yourself to the commandant of the
nearest post, which must be, I suppose, at Etaples. Rather a rough man
he is; and I fear you will have reason for regret. The duty will then
remain with him. But I beg you, my dear friend, to continue as you are.
Tush, it is nothing but some smuggler's work."
Scudamore hoped that he might be right, and for some little time was not
disturbed by any appearance to the contrary. But early in the afternoon
one day, when the month of March was near its close, he left his books
for a little fresh air, and strolled into the orchard, where his friend
the ox was dwelling. This worthy animal, endowed with a virtue denied to
none except the human race, approached him lovingly, and begged to draw
attention to the gratifying difference betwixt wounds and scars. He
offered his broad brow to the hand, and his charitable ears to be
tickled, and breathed a quick issue of good feeling and fine feeding,
from the sensitive tucks of his nostrils, as a large-hearted smoker
makes the air go up with gratitude.
But as a burnt child dreads the fire, the seriously perforated animal
kept one eye vigilant of the northern aspect, and the other studious
of the south. And the gentle Scuddy (who was finding all things happy,
which is the only way to make them so) was startled by a sharp jerk of
his dear friend's head. Following the clue of gaze, there he saw, coming
up the river with a rollicking self-trust, a craft uncommonly like that
craft which had mounted every sort of rig and flag, and carried every
kind of crew, in his many dreams about her. This made him run back to
his room at once, not only in fear of being seen upon the bank, but also
that he might command a better view, with the help of his landlord's old
spy-glass.