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ORLEY FARM
by
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
First published in serial form March, 1861, through October, 1862,
and in book form in 1862, both by Chapman and Hall.
[Illustration: ORLEY FARM. (Frontispiece)]
CONTENTS
VOLUME I
I. THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE GREAT ORLEY FARM CASE.
II. LADY MASON AND HER SON.
III. THE CLEEVE.
IV. THE PERILS OF YOUTH.
V. SIR PEREGRINE MAKES A SECOND PROMISE.
VI. THE COMMERCIAL ROOM, BULL INN, LEEDS.
VII. THE MASONS OF GROBY PARK.
VIII. MRS. MASON'S HOT LUNCHEON.
IX. A CONVIVIAL MEETING.
X. MR., MRS., AND MISS FURNIVAL.
XI. MRS. FURNIVAL AT HOME.
XII. MR. FURNIVAL'S CHAMBERS.
XIII. GUILTY, OR NOT GUILTY.
XIV. DINNER AT THE CLEEVE.
XV. A MORNING CALL AT MOUNT PLEASANT VILLA.
XVI. MR. DOCKWRATH IN BEDFORD ROW.
XVII. VON BAUHR.
XVIII. THE ENGLISH VON BAUHR.
XIX. THE STAVELEY FAMILY.
XX. MR. DOCKWRATH IN HIS OWN OFFICE.
XXI. CHRISTMAS IN HARLEY STREET.
XXII. CHRISTMAS AT NONINGSBY.
XXIII. CHRISTMAS AT GROBY PARK.
XXIV. CHRISTMAS IN GREAT ST. HELENS.
XXV. MR. FURNIVAL AGAIN AT HIS CHAMBERS.
XXVI. WHY SHOULD I NOT?
XXVII. COMMERCE.
XXVIII. MONKTON GRANGE.
XXIX. BREAKING COVERT.
XXX. ANOTHER FALL.
XXXI. FOOTSTEPS IN THE CORRIDOR.
XXXII. WHAT BRIDGET BOLSTER HAD TO SAY.
XXXIII. THE ANGEL OF LIGHT.
XXXIV. MR. FURNIVAL LOOKS FOR ASSISTANCE.
XXXV. LOVE WAS STILL THE LORD OF ALL.
XXXVI. WHAT THE YOUNG MEN THOUGHT ABOUT IT.
XXXVII. PEREGRINE'S ELOQUENCE.
XXXVIII. OH, INDEED!
XXXIX. WHY SHOULD HE GO?
XL. I CALL IT AWFUL.
VOLUME II
XLI. HOW CAN I SAVE HIM?
XLII. JOHN KENNEBY GOES TO HAMWORTH.
XLIII. JOHN KENNEBY'S COURTSHIP.
XLIV. SHOWING HOW LADY MASON COULD BE VERY NOBLE.
XLV. SHOWING HOW MRS. ORME COULD BE VERY WEAK MINDED.
XLVI. A WOMAN'S IDEA OF FRIENDSHIP.
XLVII. THE GEM OF THE FOUR FAMILIES.
XLVIII. THE ANGEL OF LIGHT UNDER A CLOUD.
XLIX. MRS. FURNIVAL CAN'T PUT UP WITH IT.
L. IT IS QUITE IMPOSSIBLE.
LI. MRS. FURNIVAL'S JOURNEY TO HAMWORTH.
LII. SHOWING HOW THINGS WENT ON AT NONINGSBY.
LIII. LADY MASON RETURNS HOME.
LIV. TELLING ALL THAT HAPPENED BENEATH THE LAMP-POST.
LV. WHAT TOOK PLACE IN HARLEY STREET.
LVI. HOW SIR PEREGRINE DID BUSINESS WITH MR. ROUND.
LVII. THE LOVES AND HOPES OF ALBERT FITZALLEN.
LVIII. MISS STAVELEY DECLINES TO EAT MINCED VEAL.
LIX. NO SURRENDER.
LX. WHAT REBEKAH DID FOR HER SON.
LXI. THE STATE OF PUBLIC OPINION.
LXII. WHAT THE FOUR LAWYERS THOUGHT ABOUT IT.
LXIII. THE EVENING BEFORE THE TRIAL.
LXIV. THE FIRST JOURNEY TO ALSTON.
LXV. FELIX GRAHAM RETURNS TO NONINGSBY.
LXVI. SHOWING HOW MISS FURNIVAL TREATED HER LOVERS.
LXVII. MR. MOULDER BACKS HIS OPINION.
LXVIII. THE FIRST DAY OF THE TRIAL.
LXIX. THE TWO JUDGES.
LXX. HOW AM I TO BEAR IT?
LXXI. SHOWING HOW JOHN KENNEBY AND BRIDGET BOLSTER BORE
THEMSELVES IN COURT.
LXXII. MR. FURNIVAL'S SPEECH.
LXXIII. MRS. ORME TELLS THE STORY.
LXXIV. YOUNG LOCHINVAR.
LXXV. THE LAST DAY.
LXXVI. I LOVE HER STILL.
LXXVII. JOHN KENNEBY'S DOOM.
LXXVIII. THE LAST OF THE LAWYERS.
LXXIX. FAREWELL.
LXXX. SHOWING HOW AFFAIRS SETTLED THEMSELVES AT NONINGSBY.
ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME I
ORLEY FARM. FRONTISPIECE
SIR PEREGRINE AND HIS HEIR. CHAPTER III
THERE WAS SORROW IN HER HEART,
AND DEEP THOUGHT IN HER MIND. CHAPTER V
"THERE IS NOTHING LIKE IRON, SIR; NOTHING." CHAPTER VI
AND THEN THEY ALL MARCHED OUT OF THE ROOM,
EACH WITH HIS OWN GLASS. CHAPTER IX
MR. FURNIVAL'S WELCOME HOME. CHAPTER XI
"YOUR SON LUCIUS DID SAY--SHOPPING." CHAPTER XIII
OVER THEIR WINE. CHAPTER XIV
VON BAUHR'S DREAM. CHAPTER XVII
THE ENGLISH VON BAUHR AND HIS PUPIL. CHAPTER XVIII
CHRISTMAS AT NONINGSBY--MORNING. CHAPTER XXII
CHRISTMAS AT NONINGSBY--EVENING. CHAPTER XXII
"WHY SHOULD I NOT?" CHAPTER XXV
MONKTON GRANGE. CHAPTER XXVIII
FELIX GRAHAM IN TROUBLE. CHAPTER XXIX
FOOTSTEPS IN THE CORRIDOR. CHAPTER XXXI
THE ANGEL OF LIGHT. CHAPTER XXXIII
LUCIUS MASON IN HIS STUDY. CHAPTER XXXVI
PEREGRINE'S ELOQUENCE. CHAPTER XXXVII
LADY STAVELY INTERRUPTING HER SON
AND SOPHIA FURNIVAL. CHAPTER XXXIX
VOLUME II
JOHN KENNEBY AND MIRIAM DOCKWRATH. CHAPTER XLII
GUILTY. CHAPTER XLIV
LADY MASON AFTER HER CONFESSION. CHAPTER XLV
"BREAD SAUCE IS SO TICKLISH." CHAPTER XLVII
"NEVER IS A VERY LONG WORD." CHAPTER L
"TOM," SHE SAID, "I HAVE COME BACK." CHAPTER LI
LADY MASON GOING BEFORE THE MAGISTRATES. CHAPTER LIII
SIR PEREGRINE AT MR. ROUND'S OFFICE. CHAPTER LVI
"TELL ME, MADELINE, ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?" CHAPTER LVIII
"NO SURRENDER." CHAPTER LIX
MR. CHAFFANBRASS AND MR. SOLOMON ARAM. CHAPTER LXII
THE COURT. CHAPTER LXIV
THE DRAWING-ROOM AT NONINGSBY. CHAPTER LXV
"AND HOW ARE THEY ALL AT NONINGSBY?" CHAPTER LXVI
LADY MASON LEAVING THE COURT. CHAPTER LXX
"HOW CAN I BEAR IT?" CHAPTER LXX
BRIDGET BOLSTER IN COURT. CHAPTER LXXI
LUCIUS MASON, AS HE LEANED ON THE GATE
THAT WAS NO LONGER HIS OWN. CHAPTER LXXIII
FAREWELL! CHAPTER LXXIX
FAREWELL! CHAPTER LXXIX
VOLUME I.
CHAPTER I.
THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE GREAT ORLEY FARM CASE.
It is not true that a rose by any other name will smell as sweet.
Were it true, I should call this story "The Great Orley Farm Case."
But who would ask for the ninth number of a serial work burthened
with so very uncouth an appellation? Thence, and therefore,--Orley
Farm.
I say so much at commencing in order that I may have an opportunity
of explaining that this book of mine will not be devoted in any
special way to rural delights. The name might lead to the idea that
new precepts were to be given, in the pleasant guise of a novel, as
to cream-cheeses, pigs with small bones, wheat sown in drills, or
artificial manure. No such aspirations are mine. I make no attempts
in that line, and declare at once that agriculturists will gain
nothing from my present performance. Orley Farm, my readers, will be
our scene during a portion of our present sojourn together, but the
name has been chosen as having been intimately connected with certain
legal questions which made a considerable stir in our courts of law.
It was twenty years before the date at which this story will be
supposed to commence that the name of Orley Farm first became known
to the wearers of the long robe. At that time had died an old
gentleman, Sir Joseph Mason, who left behind him a landed estate in
Yorkshire of considerable extent and value. This he bequeathed, in a
proper way, to his eldest son, the Joseph Mason, Esq., of our date.
Sir Joseph had been a London merchant; had made his own money, having
commenced the world, no doubt, with half a crown; had become, in
turn, alderman, mayor, and knight; and in the fulness of time was
gathered to his fathers. He had purchased this estate in Yorkshire
late in life--we may as well become acquainted with the name, Groby
Park--and his eldest son had lived there with such enjoyment of the
privileges of an English country gentleman as he had been able to
master for himself. Sir Joseph had also had three daughters, full
sisters of Joseph of Groby, whom he endowed sufficiently and gave
over to three respective loving husbands. And then shortly before his
death, three years or so, Sir Joseph had married a second wife, a
lady forty-five years his junior, and by her he also left one son, an
infant only two years old when he died.
For many years this prosperous gentleman had lived at a small country
house, some five-and-twenty miles from London, called Orley Farm.
This had been his first purchase of land, and he had never given up
his residence there, although his wealth would have entitled him to
the enjoyment of a larger establishment. On the birth of his youngest
son, at which time his eldest was nearly forty years old, he made
certain moderate provision for the infant, as he had already made
moderate provision for his young wife; but it was then clearly
understood by the eldest son that Orley Farm was to go with the Groby
Park estate to him as the heir. When, however, Sir Joseph died, a
codicil to his will, executed with due legal formalities, bequeathed
Orley Farm to his youngest son, little Lucius Mason.
Then commenced those legal proceedings which at last developed
themselves into the great Orley Farm Case. The eldest son contested
the validity of the codicil; and indeed there were some grounds
on which it appeared feasible that he should do so. This codicil
not only left Orley Farm away from him to baby Lucius, but also
interfered in another respect with the previous will. It devised a
sum of two thousand pounds to a certain Miriam Usbech, the daughter
of one Jonathan Usbech who was himself the attorney who had attended
upon Sir Joseph for the making out of this very will, and also of
this very codicil. This sum of two thousand pounds was not, it is
true, left away from the surviving Joseph, but was to be produced out
of certain personal property which had been left by the first will to
the widow. And then old Jonathan Usbech had died, while Sir Joseph
Mason was still living.
All the circumstances of the trial need not be detailed here. It was
clearly proved that Sir Joseph had during his whole life expressed
his intention of leaving Orley Farm to his eldest son; that he was a
man void of mystery, and not given to secrets in his money matters,
and one very little likely to change his opinion on such subjects. It
was proved that old Jonathan Usbech at the time in which the will was
made was in very bad circumstances, both as regards money and health.
His business had once not been bad, but he had eaten and drunk it,
and at this period was feeble and penniless, overwhelmed both by gout
and debt. He had for many years been much employed by Sir Joseph in
money matters, and it was known that he was so employed almost up to
the day of his death. The question was whether he had been employed
to make this codicil.
The body of the will was in the handwriting of the widow, as was also
the codicil. It was stated by her at the trial that the words were
dictated to her by Usbech in her husband's hearing, and that the
document was then signed by her husband in the presence of them both,
and also in the presence of two other persons--a young man employed
by her husband as a clerk, and by a servant-maid. These two last,
together with Mr. Usbech, were the three witnesses whose names
appeared in the codicil. There had been no secrets between Lady Mason
and her husband as to his will. She had always, she said, endeavoured
to induce him to leave Orley Farm to her child from the day of the
child's birth, and had at last succeeded. In agreeing to this Sir
Joseph had explained to her, somewhat angrily, that he wished to
provide for Usbech's daughter, and that now he would do so out of
moneys previously intended for her, the widow, and not out of the
estate which would go to his eldest son. To this she had assented
without a word, and had written the codicil in accordance with the
lawyer's dictation, he, the lawyer, suffering at the time from gout
in his hand. Among other things Lady Mason proved that on the date of
the signatures Mr. Usbech had been with Sir Joseph for sundry hours.
Then the young clerk was examined. He had, he said, witnessed in
his time four, ten, twenty, and, under pressure, he confessed to
as many as a hundred and twenty business signatures on the part of
his employer, Sir Joseph. He thought he had witnessed a hundred
and twenty, but would take his oath he had not witnessed a hundred
and twenty-one. He did remember witnessing a signature of his
master about the time specified by the date of the codicil, and he
remembered the maid-servant also signing at the same time. Mr. Usbech
was then present; but he did not remember Mr. Usbech having the
pen in his hand. Mr. Usbech, he knew, could not write at that time,
because of the gout; but he might, no doubt, have written as much
as his own name. He swore to both the signatures--his own and his
master's; and in cross-examination swore that he thought it probable
that they might be forgeries. On re-examination he was confident that
his own name, as there appearing, had been written by himself; but
on re-cross-examination, he felt sure that there was something wrong.
It ended in the judge informing him that his word was worth nothing,
which was hard enough on the poor young man, seeing that he had done
his best to tell all that he remembered. Then the servant-girl came
into the witness-box. She was sure it was her own handwriting. She
remembered being called in to write her name, and seeing the master
write his. It had all been explained to her at the time, but she
admitted that she had not understood the explanation. She had also
seen the clerk write his name, but she was not sure that she had seen
Mr. Usbech write. Mr. Usbech had had a pen in his hand; she was sure
of that.
The last witness was Miriam Usbech, then a very pretty, simple girl
of seventeen. Her father had told her once that he hoped Sir Joseph
would make provision for her. This had been shortly before her
father's death. At her father's death she had been sent for to Orley
Farm, and had remained there till Sir Joseph died. She had always
regarded Sir Joseph and Lady Mason as her best friends. She had known
Sir Joseph all her life, and did not think it unnatural that he
should provide for her. She had heard her father say more than once
that Lady Mason would never rest till the old gentleman had settled
Orley Farm upon her son.
Not half the evidence taken has been given here, but enough probably
for our purposes. The will and codicil were confirmed, and Lady Mason
continued to live at the farm. Her evidence was supposed to have been
excellently given, and to have been conclusive. She had seen the
signature, and written the codicil, and could explain the motive. She
was a woman of high character, of great talent, and of repute in the
neighbourhood; and, as the judge remarked, there could be no possible
reason for doubting her word. Nothing also could be simpler or
prettier than the evidence of Miriam Usbech, as to whose fate and
destiny people at the time expressed much sympathy. That stupid young
clerk was responsible for the only weak part of the matter; but if
he proved nothing on one side, neither did he prove anything on the
other.
This was the commencement of the great Orley Farm Case, and having
been then decided in favour of the infant it was allowed to slumber
for nearly twenty years. The codicil was confirmed, and Lady Mason
remained undisturbed in possession of the house, acting as guardian
for her child till he came of age, and indeed for some time beyond
that epoch. In the course of a page or two I shall beg my readers to
allow me to introduce this lady to their acquaintance.
Miriam Usbech, of whom also we shall see something, remained at the
farm under Lady Mason's care till she married a young attorney, who
in process of time succeeded to such business as her father left
behind him. She suffered some troubles in life before she settled
down in the neighbouring country town as Mrs. Dockwrath, for she had
had another lover, the stupid young clerk who had so villainously
broken down in his evidence; and to this other lover, whom she had
been unable to bring herself to accept, Lady Mason had given her
favour and assistance. Poor Miriam was at that time a soft, mild-eyed
girl, easy to be led, one would have said; but in this matter Lady
Mason could not lead her. It was in vain to tell her that the
character of young Dockwrath did not stand high, and that young
Kenneby, the clerk, should be promoted to all manner of good things.
Soft and mild-eyed as Miriam was, Love was still the lord of all. In
this matter she would not be persuaded; and eventually she gave her
two thousand pounds to Samuel Dockwrath, the young attorney with the
questionable character.
This led to no breach between her and her patroness. Lady Mason,
wishing to do the best for her young friend, had favoured John
Kenneby, but she was not a woman at all likely to quarrel on such a
ground as this. "Well, Miriam," she had said, "you must judge for
yourself, of course, in such a matter as this. You know my regard for
you."
"Oh yes, ma'am," said Miriam, eagerly.
"And I shall always be glad to promote your welfare as Mrs.
Dockwrath, if possible. I can only say that I should have had more
satisfaction in attempting to do so for you as Mrs. Kenneby." But,
in spite of the seeming coldness of these words, Lady Mason had
been constant to her friend for many years, and had attended to her
with more or less active kindness in all the sorrows arising from
an annual baby and two sets of twins--a progeny which before the
commencement of my tale reached the serious number of sixteen, all
living.
Among other solid benefits conferred by Lady Mason had been the
letting to Mr. Dockwrath of certain two fields, lying at the
extremity of the farm property, and quite adjacent to the town of
Hamworth in which old Mr. Usbech had resided. These had been let by
the year, at a rent not considered to be too high at that period, and
which had certainly become much lower in proportion to the value of
the land, as the town of Hamworth had increased. On these fields Mr.
Dockwrath expended some money, though probably not so much as he
averred; and when noticed to give them up at the period of young
Mason's coming of age, expressed himself terribly aggrieved.
"Surely, Mr. Dockwrath, you are very ungrateful," Lady Mason had said
to him. But he had answered her with disrespectful words; and hence
had arisen an actual breach between her and poor Miriam's husband. "I
must say, Miriam, that Mr. Dockwrath is unreasonable," Lady Mason had
said. And what could a poor wife answer? "Oh! Lady Mason, pray let
it bide a time till it all comes right." But it never did come right;
and the affair of those two fields created the great Orley Farm Case,
which it will be our business to unravel.
And now a word or two as to this Orley Farm. In the first place let
it be understood that the estate consisted of two farms. One, called
the Old Farm, was let to an old farmer named Greenwood, and had been
let to him and to his father for many years antecedent to the days
of the Masons. Mr. Greenwood held about three hundred acres of land,
paying with admirable punctuality over four hundred a year in rent,
and was regarded by all the Orley people as an institution on the
property. Then there was the farm-house and the land attached to it.
This was the residence in which Sir Joseph had lived, keeping in
his own hands this portion of the property. When first inhabited by
him the house was not fitted for more than the requirements of an
ordinary farmer, but he had gradually added to it and ornamented
it till it was commodious, irregular, picturesque, and straggling.
When he died, and during the occupation of his widow, it consisted
of three buildings of various heights, attached to each other,
and standing in a row. The lower contained a large kitchen, which
had been the living-room of the farm-house, and was surrounded
by bake-house, laundry, dairy, and servants' room, all of fair
dimensions. It was two stories high, but the rooms were low, and the
roof steep and covered with tiles. The next portion had been added by
Sir Joseph, then Mr. Mason, when he first thought of living at the
place. This also was tiled, and the rooms were nearly as low; but
there were three stories, and the building therefore was considerably
higher. For five-and-twenty years the farm-house, so arranged, had
sufficed for the common wants of Sir Joseph and his family; but when
he determined to give up his establishment in the City, he added on
another step to the house at Orley Farm. On this occasion he built
a good dining-room, with a drawing-room over it, and bed-room over
that; and this portion of the edifice was slated.
The whole stood in one line fronting on to a large lawn which fell
steeply away from the house into an orchard at the bottom. This
lawn was cut in terraces, and here and there upon it there stood
apple-trees of ancient growth; for here had been the garden of the
old farm-house. They were large, straggling trees, such as do not
delight the eyes of modern gardeners; but they produced fruit by the
bushel, very sweet to the palate, though probably not so perfectly
round, and large, and handsome as those which the horticultural skill
of the present day requires. The face of the house from one end to
the other was covered with vines and passion-flowers, for the aspect
was due south; and as the whole of the later addition was faced by
a verandah, which also, as regarded the ground-floor, ran along the
middle building, the place in summer was pretty enough. As I have
said before, it was irregular and straggling, but at the same time
roomy and picturesque. Such was Orley Farm-house.
There were about two hundred acres of land attached to it, together
with a large old-fashioned farm-yard, standing not so far from the
house as most gentlemen farmers might perhaps desire. The farm
buildings, however, were well hidden, for Sir Joseph, though he would
at no time go to the expense of constructing all anew, had spent more
money than such a proceeding would have cost him doctoring existing
evils and ornamenting the standing edifices. In doing this he had
extended the walls of a brewhouse, and covered them with creepers, so
as to shut out from the hall door the approach to the farm-yard, and
had put up a quarter of a mile of high ornamental paling for the same
purpose. He had planted an extensive shrubbery along the brow of the
hill at one side of the house, had built summer-houses, and sunk a
ha-ha fence below the orchard, and had contrived to give to the place
the unmistakable appearance of an English gentleman's country-house.
Nevertheless, Sir Joseph had never bestowed upon his estate, nor had
it ever deserved, a more grandiloquent name than that which it had
possessed of old.
Orley Farm-house itself is somewhat more than a mile distant from
the town of Hamworth, but the land runs in the direction of the
town, not skirting the high road, but stretching behind the cottages
which stand along the pathway; and it terminates in those two fields
respecting which Mr. Dockwrath the attorney became so irrationally
angry at the period of which we are now immediately about to treat.
These fields lie on the steep slope of Hamworth Hill, and through
them runs the public path from the hamlet of Roxeth up to Hamworth
church; for, as all the world knows, Hamworth church stands high, and
is a landmark to the world for miles and miles around.
Within a circuit of thirty miles from London no land lies more
beautifully circumstanced with regard to scenery than the country
about Hamworth; and its most perfect loveliness commences just
beyond the slopes of Orley Farm. There is a little village called
Coldharbour, consisting of some half-dozen cottages, situated
immediately outside Lady Mason's gate,--and it may as well be stated
here that this gate is but three hundred yards from the house, and is
guarded by no lodge. This village stands at the foot of Cleeve Hill.
The land hereabouts ceases to be fertile, and breaks away into heath
and common ground. Round the foot of the hill there are extensive
woods, all of which belong to Sir Peregrine Orme, the lord of the
manor. Sir Peregrine is not a rich man, not rich, that is, it being
borne in mind that he is a baronet, that he represented his county in
parliament for three or four sessions, and that his ancestors have
owned The Cleeve estate for the last four hundred years; but he is by
general repute the greatest man in these parts. We may expect to hear
more of him also as the story makes its way.
I know many spots in England and in other lands, world-famous in
regard to scenery, which to my eyes are hardly equal to Cleeve Hill.
From the top of it you are told that you may see into seven counties;
but to me that privilege never possessed any value. I should not
care to see into seventeen counties, unless the country which spread
itself before my view was fair and lovely. The country which is so
seen from Cleeve Hill is exquisitely fair and lovely;--very fair,
with glorious fields of unsurpassed fertility, and lovely with oak
woods and brown open heaths which stretch away, hill after hill, down
towards the southern coast. I could greedily fill a long chapter with
the well-loved glories of Cleeve Hill; but it may be that we must
press its heather with our feet more than once in the course of our
present task, and if so, it will be well to leave something for those
coming visits.
"Ungrateful! I'll let her know whether I owe her any gratitude.
Haven't I paid her her rent every half-year as it came due? what more
would she have? Ungrateful, indeed! She is one of those women who
think that you ought to go down on your knees to them if they only
speak civilly to you. I'll let her know whether I'm ungrateful."
These words were spoken by angry Mr. Samuel Dockwrath to his wife, as
he stood up before his parlour-fire after breakfast, and the woman to
whom he referred was Lady Mason. Mr. Samuel Dockwrath was very angry
as he so spoke, or at any rate he seemed to be so. There are men who
take a delight in abusing those special friends whom their wives
best love, and Mr. Dockwrath was one of these. He had never given
his cordial consent to the intercourse which had hitherto existed
between the lady of Orley Farm and his household, although he had not
declined the substantial benefits which had accompanied it. His pride
had rebelled against the feeling of patronage, though his interest
had submitted to the advantages thence derived. A family of sixteen
children is a heavy burden for a country attorney with a small
practice, even though his wife may have had a fortune of two thousand
pounds; and thus Mr. Dockwrath, though he had never himself loved
Lady Mason, had permitted his wife to accept all those numberless
kindnesses which a lady with comfortable means and no children is
always able to bestow on a favoured neighbour who has few means and
many children. Indeed, he himself had accepted a great favour with
reference to the holding of those two fields, and had acknowledged as
much when first he took them into his hands some sixteen or seventeen
years back. But all that was forgotten now; and having held them for
so long a period, he bitterly felt the loss, and resolved that it
would ill become him as a man and an attorney to allow so deep an
injury to pass unnoticed. It may be, moreover, that Mr. Dockwrath was
now doing somewhat better in the world than formerly, and that he
could afford to give up Lady Mason, and to demand also that his wife
should give her up. Those trumpery presents from Orley Farm were very
well while he was struggling for bare bread, but now, now that he had
turned the corner,--now that by his divine art and mystery of law
he had managed to become master of that beautiful result of British
perseverance, a balance at his banker's, he could afford to indulge
his natural antipathy to a lady who had endeavoured in early life
to divert from him the little fortune which had started him in the
world.
Miriam Dockwrath, as she sat on this morning, listening to her
husband's anger, with a sick little girl on her knee, and four or
five others clustering round her, half covered with their matutinal
bread and milk, was mild-eyed and soft as ever. Hers was a nature in
which softness would ever prevail;--softness, and that tenderness of
heart, always leaning, and sometimes almost crouching, of which a
mild eye is the outward sign. But her comeliness and prettiness were
gone. Female beauty of the sterner, grander sort may support the
burden of sixteen children, all living,--and still survive. I have
known it to do so, and to survive with much of its youthful glory.
But that mild-eyed, soft, round, plumpy prettiness gives way beneath
such a weight as that: years alone tell on it quickly; but children
and limited means combined with years leave to it hardly a chance.
"I'm sure I'm very sorry," said the poor woman, worn with her many
cares.
"Sorry; yes, and I'll make her sorry, the proud minx. There's an old
saying, that those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."
"But, Samuel, I don't think she means to be doing you any harm. You
know she always did say-- Don't, Bessy; how can you put your fingers
into the basin in that way?"
"Sam has taken my spoon away, mamma."
"I'll let her know whether she's doing any harm or no. And what
signifies what was said sixteen years ago? Has she anything to show
in writing? As far as I know, nothing of the kind was said."
"Oh, I remember it, Samuel; I do indeed!"
"Let me tell you then that you had better not try to remember
anything about it. If you ain't quiet, Bob, I'll make you, pretty
quick; d'ye hear that? The fact is, your memory is not worth a curse.
Where are you to get milk for all those children, do you think, when
the fields are gone?"
"I'm sure I'm very sorry, Samuel."
"Sorry; yes, and somebody else shall be sorry too. And look here,
Miriam, I won't have you going up to Orley Farm on any pretence
whatever; do you hear that?" and then, having given that imperative
command to his wife and slave, the lord and master of that
establishment walked forth into his office.
On the whole Miriam Usbech might have done better had she followed
the advice of her patroness in early life, and married the stupid
clerk.