And such a woman!
She had on a cotton gown--very neat, I dare say--for an under housemaid;
and _such_ thick shoes! She had on a little black straw bonnet, and a
kerchief that might have cost tenpence, pinned across her waist instead
of a shawl; and she looked altogether--respectable, no doubt, but
exceedingly dusty! And she was hanging upon Leonard's neck, and
scolding, and caressing, and crying very loud. "God bless my soul!" said
Mr. Richard Avenel.
And as he uttered that innocent self-benediction, the woman hastily
turned round, and darting from Leonard, threw herself right upon Richard
Avenel--burying under her embrace blue coat, moss-rose, white waistcoat
and all--with a vehement sob and a loud exclamation!
"Oh! brother Dick!--dear, dear brother Dick! and I lives to see thee
agin!" And then came two such kisses--you might have heard them a mile
off! The situation of brother Dick was appalling! and the crowd, that
had before only tittered politely, could not now resist the effect of
this sudden embrace. There was a general explosion! It was a roar! That
roar would have killed a weak man; but it sounded to the strong heart of
Richard Avenel like the defiance of a foe, and it plucked forth in an
instant from all conventional let and barrier the native spirit of the
Anglo-Saxon.
He lifted abruptly his handsome masculine head, looked round the ring of
his ill-bred visitors with a haughty stare of rebuke and surprise.
"Ladies and gentlemen," then said he, very coolly, "I don't see what
there is to laugh at! A brother and sister meet after many years'
separation, and the sister cries, poor thing. For my part, I think it
very natural that _she_ should cry; but not that you should laugh!" In
an instant the whole shame was removed from Richard Avenel, and rested
in full weight upon the bystanders. It is impossible to say how foolish
and sheepish they all looked, nor how slinkingly each tried to creep
off.
Richard Avenel seized his advantage with the promptitude of a man who
had got on in America, and was therefore accustomed to make the best of
things. He drew Mrs. Fairfield's arm in his, and led her into the house;
but when he had got her safe into his parlor--Leonard following all the
time--and the door was closed upon those three, _then_ Richard Avenel's
ire burst forth.
"You impudent, ungrateful, audacious--drab!"
Yes, drab was the word. I am shocked to say it, but the duties of a
historian are stern; and the word _was_ drab.
"Drab!" faltered poor Jane Fairfield; and she clutched hold of Leonard
to save herself from falling.
"Sir!" cried Leonard, fiercely.
You might as well have cried "sir" to a mountain-torrent. Richard
hurried on, for he was furious.
"You nasty, dirty, dusty dowdy! How dare you come here to disgrace me in
my own house and premises, after my sending you fifty pounds? To take
the very time, too, when--when--"
Richard gasped for breath; and the laugh of his guests rang in his ears,
and got into his chest, and choked him. Jane Fairfield drew herself up,
and her tears were dried.
"I did not come to disgrace you; I came to see my boy, and--"
"Ha!" interrupted Richard, "to see _him_."
He turned to Leonard: "You have written to this woman, then?"
"No, sir, I have not."
"I believe you lie."
"He does not lie; and he is as good as yourself, and better, Richard
Avenel," exclaimed Mrs. Fairfield; "and I won't stand here and hear him
insulted--that's what I won't. And as for your fifty pounds, there are
forty-five of it; and I'll work my fingers to the bone till I pay back
the other five. And don't be afeard I shall disgrace you, for I'll never
look on your face agin; and you're a wicked, bad man--that's what you
are."
The poor woman's voice was so raised, and so shrill, that any other and
more remorseful feeling which Richard might have conceived, was drowned
in his apprehension that she would be overheard by his servants or his
guests--a masculine apprehension, with which females rarely sympathize;
which, on the contrary, they are inclined to consider a mean and
cowardly terror on the part of their male oppressors.
"Hush! hold your infernal squall--do!" said Mr. Avenel, in a tone that
he meant to be soothing. "There--sit down--and don't stir till I come
back again, and can talk to you calmly. Leonard, follow me, and help to
explain things to our guests."
Leonard stood still, but shook his head slightly.
"What do you mean, sir?" said Richard Avenel, in a very portentous
growl. "Shaking your head at me? Do you intend to disobey me? You had
better take care!"
Leonard's front rose; he drew one arm round his mother, and thus he
spoke:
"Sir, you have been kind to me, and generous, and that thought alone
silenced my indignation, when I heard you address such language to my
mother; for I felt that, if I spoke, I should say too much. Now I speak,
and it is to say shortly that--"
"Hush, boy," said poor Mrs. Fairfield, frightened; "don't mind me. I did
not come to make mischief, and ruin your prospex. I'll go!"
"Will you ask her pardon, Mr. Avenel?" said Leonard, firmly; and he
advanced toward his uncle.
Richard, naturally hot and intolerant of contradiction, was then
excited, not only by the angry emotions which it must be owned, a man so
mortified, and in the very flush of triumph, might well experience, but
by much more wine than he was in the habit of drinking; and when Leonard
approached him, he misinterpreted the movement into one of menace and
aggression. He lifted his arm: "Come a step nearer," said he, between
his teeth, "and I'll knock you down." Leonard advanced that forbidden
step; but as Richard caught his eye, there was something in that
eye--not defying, not threatening, but bold and dauntless--which
Richard recognized and respected, for that something spoke the freeman.
The uncle's arm mechanically fell to his side.
"You can not strike me, Mr. Avenel," said Leonard, "for you are aware
that I could not strike again my mother's brother. As her son, I once
more say to you--ask her pardon."
"Ten thousand devils! Are you mad?--or do you want to drive me mad? you
insolent beggar, fed and clothed by my charity. Ask her pardon! what
for? That she has made me the object of jeer and ridicule with that d--d
cotton gown, and those double-d--d thick shoes? I vow and protest
they've got nails in them! Hark ye, sir, I've been insulted by her, but
I'm not to be bullied by you. Come with me instantly, or I discard you;
not a shilling of mine shall you have as long as I live. Take your
choice--be a peasant, a laborer, or--"
"A base renegade to natural affection, a degraded beggar indeed!" cried
Leonard, his breast heaving, and his cheeks in a glow. "Mother, mother,
come away. Never fear--I have strength and youth, and we will work
together as before."
But poor Mrs. Fairfield, overcome by her excitement, had sunk down into
Richard's own handsome morocco leather easy-chair, and could neither
speak nor stir.
"Confound you both!" muttered Richard. "You can't be seen creeping out
of my house now. Keep her here, you young viper, you; keep her till I
come back; and then if you choose to go, go and be--"
Not finishing his sentence, Mr. Avenel hurried out of the room, and
locked the door, putting the key into his pocket. He paused for a moment
in the hall, in order to collect his thoughts--drew three or four deep
breaths--gave himself a great shake--and, resolved to be faithful to his
principle of doing one thing at a time, shook off in that shake all
disturbing recollection of his mutinous captives. Stern as Achilles when
he appeared to the Trojans, Richard Avenel stalked back to his lawn.