Old Gryston Bridge.
Very merry was the Baronet at the social breakfast-table, and the whole
party very gay, except those few whose natures were sedate or
melancholic.
"A tremendous agreeable man, Sir Jekyl--don't you think so, Jennie?"
said General Lennox to his wife, as he walked her slowly along the
terrace at the side of the house.
"I think him intolerably noisy, and sometimes absolutely vulgar,"
answered Lady Jane, with a languid disdain, which conveyed alike her
estimate of her husband's discernment and of Sir Jekyl's merits.
"Well, I thought he was agreeable. Some of his jokes I think, indeed,
had not much sense in them. But sometimes I don't see a witty thing as
quick as cleverer fellows do, and they were all laughing, except you;
and I don't think you like him, Jennie."
"I don't dislike him. I dare say he's a very worthy soul; but he gives
me a headache."
"He _is_ a little bit noisy, maybe. Yes, he certainly _is_," acquiesced
the honest General, who in questions of taste and nice criticism, was
diffident of his own judgment, and leaned to his wife's. "But I thought
he was rather a pleasant fellow. I'm no great judge; but I like to see
fellows laughing, and that sort of thing. It looks good-humoured, don't
you think?"
"I hate good-humour," said Lady Jane.
The General, not knowing exactly what to say next, marched by her side
in silence, till Lady Jane let go his arm, and sat down on the rustic
seat which commands so fine a view, and, leaning back, eyed the
landscape with a dreamy indolence, as if she was going to "cut" it.
The General scanned it with a military eye, and his reconnoitering
glance discerned, coming up the broad walk at his right, their host,
with pretty Mrs. Maberly on his arm, doing the honours plainly very
agreeably.
On seeing the General and Lady Jane, he smiled, quickened his pace, and
raised his hat.
"So glad we have found you," said he. "Charming weather, isn't it? _You_
must determine, Lady Jane, what's to be done to-day. There are two
things you really ought to see--Gryston Bridge and Hazelden Castle. I
assure you the great London artists visit both for studies. We'll take
our luncheon there, it's such a warm, bright day--that is, if you like
the plan--and, which do you say?"
"My husband always votes for me. What does Mrs. Maberly say?" and Lady
Jane looked in her face with one of her winning smiles.
"Yes, what does Mrs. Maberly say?" echoed the General, gallantly.
"So you won't advise?" said the Baronet, leaning toward Lady Jane, a
little reproachfully.
"I won't advise," she echoed, in her indolent way.
"Which is the best?" inquired Mrs. Maberly, gleefully. "What a charming
idea!"
"For my part, I have a headache, you know, Arthur--I told you, dear; and
I shall hardly venture a long excursion, I think. What do you advise
to-day?"
"Well, I think it might do you good--hey? What do _you_ say, Sir Jekyl?"
"So very sorry to hear Lady Jane is suffering; but I really think your
advice, General Lennox--it's so very fine and mild--and I think it might
amuse Lady Jane;" and he glanced at the lady, who, however, wearing her
bewitching smile, was conversing with Mrs. Maberly about a sweet little
white dog, with long ears and a blue ribbon, which had accompanied her
walk from the house.
"Well, dear, Sir Jekyl wants to know. What do you say?" inquired the
General.
"Oh, pray arrange as you please. I dare say I can go. It's all the
same," answered Lady Jane, without raising her eyes from silvery little
Bijou, on whom she bestowed her unwonted smiles and caresses.
"You belong to Beatrix, you charming little fairy--I'm sure you do; and
is not it very wicked to go out with other people without leave, you
naughty little truant?"
"You must not attack her so. She really loves Beatrix; and though she
has come out just to take the air with me, I don't think she cares
twopence about me; and I know I don't about her."
"What a cruel speech!" cried pretty Mrs. Maberly, with a laugh that
showed her exquisite little teeth.
"The _fact_ is cruel--if you will--not the speech--for she can't hear
it," said Sir Jekyl, patting Bijou.
"So they _act_ love to your face, poor little dog, and say what they
please of you behind your back," murmured Lady Jane, soothingly, to
little Bijou, who wagged his tail and wriggled to her feet. "Yes, they
do, poor little dog!"
"Well, I shall venture--may I? I'll order the carriages at one. And
we'll say Gryston Bridge," said Sir Jekyl, hesitating notwithstanding,
inquiry plainly in his countenance.
"Sir Jekyl's waiting, dear," said General Lennox, a little imperiously.
"I really don't care. _Yes_, then," she said, and, getting up, she took
the General's arm and walked away, leaving Mrs. Maberly and her host to
their _tête-à-tête_.
Gryston Bridge is one of the prettiest scenes in that picturesque part
of the country. A river slowly winds its silvery way through the level
base of a beautifully irregular valley. No enclosure breaks the dimpling
and undulating sward--for it is the common of Gryston--which rises in
soft pastoral slopes at either side, forming the gentle barriers of the
valley, which is closed in at the further end by a bold and Alpine hill,
with a base rising purple and domelike from the plain; and in this
perspective the vale of Gryston diverges, and the two streams, which at
its head unite to form the slow-flowing current of the Greet, are lost
to sight. Trees of nature's planting here and there overhang its stream,
and others, solitarily or in groups, stud the hill-sides and the soft
green plain. A strange row of tall, gray stones, Druidic or monumental,
of a bygone Cyclopean age, stand up, time-worn and mysterious, on a
gentle slope, with a few bending thorn and birch trees beside them, in
the near distance; and in the foreground, the steep, Gothic bridge of
Gretford, or Gryston, spans the river, with five tall arches, and a
loop-holed gate-house, which once guarded the pass, now roofless and
ruined.
In this beautiful and sequestered scene the party from Marlowe had
loitered away that charming afternoon. The early sunset had been rapidly
succeeded by twilight, and the moon had surprised them. The servants
were packing up hampers of plates and knives and forks, and getting the
horses to for the return to Marlowe; while, in the early moonlight a
group stood upon the bridge, overlooking from the battlement the sweet
landscape in its changing light.
Sir Jekyl could see that Captain Drayton was by Beatrix's side, and
concluded, rightly, I have no doubt, that his conversation was tinted by
the tender lights of that romantic scenery.
"The look back on this old bridge from those Druidic stones there by
moonlight is considered very fine. It is no distance--hardly four
hundred steps from this--although it looks so misty," said the Baronet
to Lady Jane, who leaned on his arm. "Suppose we make a little party,
will you venture?"
I suppose the lady acquiesced, for Sir Jekyl ordered that the carriages
should proceed round by the road, and take them up at the point where
these Druidic remains stand.
The party who ventured this little romantic walk over the grass, were
General Lennox, in charge of the mature Miss Blunket, who loved a frolic
with all her girlish heart; Sir Jekyl, with Lady Jane upon his arm; and
Captain Drayton, who escorted Beatrix. Marching gaily, in open column,
as the General would have said, they crossed the intervening hollow, and
reached the hillock, on which stand these ungainly relics of a bygone
race; and up the steep bank they got, each couple as best they could.
Sir Jekyl and Lady Jane, for he knew the ground, by an easy path, were
first to reach the upper platform.
Sir Jekyl, I dare say, was not very learned about the Druids, and I
can't say exactly what he was talking about, when on a sudden he
arrested both his step and his sentence, for on one of these great
prostrate stones which strew that summit, he saw standing, not a dozen
steps away, well illuminated by the moon, the figure of that very Guy
Strangways, whom he so wished and hated to see--whom he had never beheld
without such strange sensations, and had not expected to see again.
The young man took no note of them apparently. He certainly did not
recognise Sir Jekyl, whose position placed his face in the shade, while
that of Mr. Strangways was full in the white light of the moon.
They had found him almost in the act of descending from his pedestal;
and he was gone in a few moments, before the Baronet had recovered from
his surprise.
The vivid likeness which he bore to a person whom the Baronet never
wished to think of, and the suddenness of his appearance and his
vanishing, had reimpressed him with just the same secret alarms and
misgivings as when first he saw him; and the serene confidence induced
by the letter of Messrs. Pelter and Crowe was for a moment demolished.
He dropped Lady Jane's arm, and forgetting his chivalry, strode to the
brow of the hillock, over which the mysterious young man had
disappeared. He had lost sight of him, but he emerged in a few seconds,
about fifty yards away, from behind a screen of thorn, walking swiftly
toward the road close by, on which stood a chaise, sharp in the misty
moonlight.
Just in time to prevent his shouting after the figure, now on the point
of re-entering the vehicle, he recollected and checked himself. Confound
the fellows, if they did not appreciate his hospitality, should he run
after them; or who were they that he should care a pin about them? Had
he not Pelter and Crowe's letter? And suppose he did overtake and engage
the young rogue in talk, what could he expect but a parcel of polite
lies. Certainly, under the circumstances, pursuit would have been
specially undignified; and the Baronet drew himself up on the edge of
the eminence, and cast a haughty half-angry look after the young
gentleman, who was now stepping into the carriage; and suddenly he
recollected how very ill he had treated Lady Jane, and he hastened to
rejoin her.
But Sir Jekyl, in that very short interval, had lost something of his
spirits. The sight of that young man had gone far to undo the
tranquillising effect of his attorneys' letter. He would not have cared
had this unchanged phantom of the past and his hoary mentor been still
in England, provided it were at a distance. But here they were, on the
confines of his property, within a short drive of Marlowe, yet affecting
to forget his invitation, his house, and himself, and detected prowling
in its vicinity like spies or poachers by moonlight. Was there not
something insidious in this? It was not for nothing that so well-bred a
person as that young man thus trampled on all the rules of courtesy for
the sake of maintaining his incognito, and avoiding the obligations of
hospitality.
So reasoned Sir Jekyl Marlowe, and felt himself rapidly relapsing into
that dreamy and intense uneasiness, from which for a few hours he had
been relieved.
"A thousand apologies, Lady Jane," cried he, as he ran back and
proffered his arm again. "I was afraid that fellow might be one of a
gang--a very dangerous lot of rogues--poachers, I believe. There were
people robbed here about a year ago, and I quite forgot when I asked you
to come. I should never have forgiven myself--so selfishly
forgetful--never, had you been frightened."
Sir Jekyl could, of course, tell fibs, especially by way of apology, as
plausibly as other men of the world. He had here turned a negligence
skilfully into a gallantry, and I suppose the lady forgave him.
The carriages had now arrived at the bend of this pretty road; and our
Marlowe friends got in, and the whole cortège swept away merrily towards
that old mansion. Sir Jekyl had been, with an effort, very lively all
the way home, and assisted Lady Jane to the ground, smiling, and had a
joke for General Lennox as he followed; and a very merry party mustered
in the hall, prattling, laughing, and lighting their candles, to run
up-stairs and dress for a late dinner.