COMING HOME.
Yes, they were coming home; the Earl and Countess of Verner were coming
home. The “Severntown Mercury” said so, and mentioned the exact day
on which they would return. Nay, more, the accomplished journalist
announced that during that very week his lordship had accepted the
colonelship of the Severnshire Yeomanry, and that the local troop
would receive the distinguished couple at the Severntown Station, and
escort them to the Junction, from whence they would continue their
journey to Avonworth. A member of the oldest county family, and the
most distinguished of the local aristocracy, the “Mercury” suggested
that the civic authorities should show his lordship some mark of their
respect as he passed through the ancient city on his way to the
historic home of his fathers.
The Right Honourable the Earl Verner was descended from that famous
Verner who figured so magnificently in the early days of the reign of
Henry IV. In the tournaments of that time, Henry, Earl Verner, was
the bravest and most formidable of all the gallants of the period. He
fought like a lion at the battle of Shrewsbury, and served the king in
various parts of the country with unequalled bravery and success. The
Verners had always been splendid men. There was another of the race
who distinguished himself as highly in the senate as the Verner of
Henry IV.’s time had in the field. It was to this senator that England
owed so much in those critical times when the doctrines of the French
Revolution were making progress in our own country. The Earl’s speech
in parliament upon this grand question was one of the most powerful
orations in history. He filled several high offices of state, and his
fine administrative ability could be traced throughout the important
epoch in which he lived. The present earl, though he had hitherto
taken no lead in public affairs, was an accomplished scholar, and had
contributed several important pamphlets to the literature of art and
antiquity; and he would, no doubt, now take that position in the county
to which his family distinction, his accomplishments, and his great
wealth entitled him.
The Countess of Verner had also sprung of a stock not by any means
of small celebrity. Her parentage might be said to have represented
the aristocracy of birth and commercial enterprise. Her father, the
late Christopher Tallant, Esq., had ranked high amongst the merchant
princes of Great Britain, and had come of an old Yorkshire family. Her
mother, a lady of the noble house of Petherington, was a descendant
of the Petheringtons of Fife. The Lord Petherington of that ilk it
was who distinguished himself in Egypt in 1800, and who fell fighting
the battles of his country in Spain. Celebrated for their beauty, the
daughters of the house of Petherington would be familiar to those
admirers of “female loveliness” who had studied “Garton’s Beauties of
the Court.”
The “Mercury” grew quite eloquent in its historical revelations, and
Severntown resolved, in accordance with the editorial hint, that the
Earl and Countess should be “received” at the station, and escorted to
the junction in right royal fashion. So, when the day came, there was
quite a crowd of people at the station. A troop of the Yeomanry Cavalry
were there, and their horses pranced and curvetted, and stood upon two
legs, in the most approved military fashion; a number of ladies who
had seats upon the platform, presented the Countess with a handsome
bracelet and a charming bouquet of flowers; the mayor came forward, and
made a pretty little speech to the newly-married pair; and the Earl
replied in a hearty address. Then his lordship conducted his wife to
a carriage, and drove off to the junction, amidst great cheering, in
company with the gallant Yeomanry on their prancing steeds.
But it was at Brazencrook where the greatest demonstration was made.
Severntown was somewhat proud and dignified; but Brazencrook was full
of rejoicing. Nearly the whole of the longest street in Brazencrook
belonged to Earl Verner, and the people had always been warmly attached
to the noble proprietors of the Castle of Montem. Brazencrook was the
nearest station to the castle, and Brazencrook determined to make the
return home something not to be forgotten. The Town-clerk had been
instructed to prepare an address for the occasion. The cordwainers
of the place had made the Countess a pair of dainty slippers; the
glass-cutters had manufactured and made wonderful toilet-bottles for
her; the ladies of the town had subscribed for a gold casket; and the
civic authorities had ordered the town to be decorated, and the bells
to be rung in honour of their distinguished friends and neighbours.
The old Guildhall was carpeted, and a daïs erected in the ancient
assembly-room. The earl had consented to bring his wife here to
receive the civic congratulations and the big town’s presents.
Brazencrook had always been celebrated for doing things well; it was
one of the leading mottoes of the local newspaper, that “if it was
worth while to do anything it was worth while to do it well.” Thus
the welcoming home of the earl and countess grew and grew out of the
first proposals into a demonstration worthy of royalty. If our friend
Asmodeus had taken you there on the morning of the celebration of this
return-home, you might have fancied that you had been transported
back to the “good old times” of provincial display. The visit of a
queen, the close of a three weeks’ election, the termination of a
great war, the inauguration of some old-world revels, or something on
an ancient scale of grandeur, would have seemed to be manifested in
those fluttering flags and banners; those half-military men in the
streets; that ox roasting in the market-place; those great casks of
ale ready tapped under the ancient piazzas of the market-house. Bands
playing, bells ringing, shops closed, triumphal arches receiving the
last-finishing touches, old gabled houses with devices painted up
between the windows, Odd-Fellows in sashes and aprons, gentlemen with
white rosettes on their breasts, women with babies in their arms, boys
climbing lamp-posts, and again Yeomanry Cavalry with brass helmets and
unmanageable horses, Brazencrook had never presented such a scene of
jubilation and bustle. The fine old town seemed to rub its jolly big
hands, and say, “How do you do, everybody--glad to see you. Have a
drink--we are going to enjoy ourself to-day. It is a little foolish to
make such a tremendous fuss, we know; but never mind;--better to do a
thing well, if you do it at all, you know.”
Somebody had drawn an allegorical figure of the town, and it had been
sculptured by a famous artist. It was a brawny athletic man, with a
hammer in his hand, leaning upon a rock from which water was supposed
to be bursting forth--the source of the river upon which the town was
built. If the figure could have spoken it would have said something
like what we have just written, and it might have laid down its hammer
and smiled pleasantly at the Brazencrookians as they bustled about on
that memorable morning.
There was a glow of pride and delight upon the rosy cheeks of the
Countess as she sat by her lord in that pretty open brougham which
conveyed them to the Guildhall. It was like the reception of a prince
and princess. Lord Verner bowed like a king to his bending subjects,
and the Countess smiled and bowed with a gracious condescension that
was quite charming to see. The people cheered and shouted and threw up
their hats, and “Welcome Home,” “Long Life and Happiness,” and good
wishes of all kinds greeted them from nearly every banner and triumphal
arch.
Meanwhile a dense crowd congregated at the Guildhall, and a fashionable
throng was congregated within. There had been many local feuds about
places. The town-councillors had to be accommodated first, and their
wives next, and we regret to say that quarrels which time will never
heal arose out of the preference shown to some ladies over others
in the selection of the committee to represent the ladies who had
subscribed for the casket. It was quite grand to see the aldermen in
their blue cloaks and chains, the councillors in their gowns, the mayor
in his cocked hat, the sword-bearers with their fur helmets on and
their beavers up. Then there were the mayor’s officers in their new
liveries, and his Worship’s own footman with a bouquet in his waistcoat
as big and as round as his own rubicund face. The military pensioners
with their shining accoutrements were drawn up in line ready to present
arms. Even Earl Verner was struck with surprise and amazement as his
coachman pulled up opposite the hall. What a scene it was, to be sure!
“Eyes front--fix bayonets--present a-r-r-r-rms!” could be heard half
way down the street, as a fierce old officer, on a plunging horse and
half pay, thundered out these commands to the pensioners; and then,
oh, how his stentorian voice was drowned with drums and fifes and
“hip-hip-hip-hurrahs!”
The Countess began to feel terribly nervous as his lordship handed her
out and introduced her to the mayor, who offered his arm and marched
magnificently into the Guildhall along the crowded corridor and into
the great assembly-room, where a thousand well-dressed persons rose to
receive the noble visitors. Onward through the smiling throng, with
his head in the air and the Countess by his side, went the Mayor of
Brazencrook, up to the daïs of crimson cloth, where the Countess sat
down in a gilded chair of state, and the Earl stood beside her, his
lordship looking almost as proud as his Worship the Mayor himself.
Suddenly the Countess recognised Phœbe, Arthur Phillips and the bailiff
sitting close by. She rose instantly, advanced towards them, and the
next moment had kissed her friend with a heartiness that made the
tears come into Phœbe’s eyes, and quite electrified everybody. Who
was the lady whom she had kissed? Everybody asked everybody else, and
nobody knew. Who was that strange looking little man with long black
hair? And who was that fine-looking country gentleman? Nobody knew,
and everybody made a guess in reply, so that there was quite a buzz
of conversation. Then the Mayor introduced the aldermen, who had all
promised to introduce their wives and didn’t; then the Mayoress was
introduced, and the Countess shook hands with her, and so did the
Earl; whereupon several friends of the chief magistrate’s wife said
the Mayoress was “stuck up,” and a score of other ladies said the
whole affair was a perfect farce, and they certainly would not have
sanctioned it if they had known there was going to be so much nonsense.
Who was the Countess, they would like to know? Nobody but a merchant’s
daughter, and her husband old enough to be her father. And who was the
Mayoress?--a seedsman’s wife,--and what a bonnet! It was a pity people
should make themselves so ridiculous! And the Countess too; there
were women in the room quite as handsome and quite as graceful. Fine
feathers made fine birds!
The Countess might fairly have disputed the prize for beauty with all
Severnshire, nevertheless; her chiefest competitor, to our mind, would
have been the artist’s _fiancée_, but the two styles of beauty were
entirely different, as our readers know.
It was not long ere the Town-clerk had read the civic address, and the
various presents were made. The Earl replied in a manner that promised
all the old borough hoped for with regard to the future; whilst the
Countess said a few words of thankfulness, which were so gracious, so
sweet, so becoming, so perfectly modest, that even the ladies who had
been excluded from the committee aforesaid could not resist joining in
the general expressions of approval.
How sincerely the Countess vowed in her own heart to be an obedient
and faithful wife to this man who had raised her to such a height of
distinction! He had never seen her look so affectionately upon him
as when they were once more moving on their way to his magnificent
house at Montem. The welcome which they had received at Brazencrook
was of such a right royal kind, that it kindled not only sensations
of pride in the woman’s heart, but feelings of the deepest gratitude.
The sublime and the ridiculous are often to be seen in very close
proximity. The Countess could not fail to notice some of the laughable
incidents of the Brazencrook display, but she felt to the full the
earnestness of the scene, the manliness of the civic address, the
outspoken, independent allegiance of the great body of her husband’s
tenants, represented by a fine old man, who talked of the ancient
days of Brazencrook, and how the retainers of the House of Verner had
fought, under previous earls, the battles of their king and country.
But it was the arrival at Montem Castle itself which most impressed the
Countess. That long drive through the luxurious park, that long line of
citizen soldiers, that body of local tenants at the castle gates, those
loud cheers, that other address of welcome, the bending servants in the
grand old hall, and the gracious words of the Earl introducing her as
the mistress of Montem Castle. She wept tears of joy and gratitude.
There was no acting in this. When she saw Earl Verner first she had
commenced to act a part which she hoped might lead up to some such
scene as this; but she had never imagined that the actress would weep
real tears, and feel a deep and fervent gratitude to the nobleman who
had taken her hand and placed her by his side.