DINNER AT THE CLEEVE.
Lady Mason on her return from London found a note from Mrs. Orme
asking both her and her son to dine at The Cleeve on the following
day. As it had been already settled between her and Sir Peregrine
that Lucius should dine there in order that he might be talked to
respecting his mania for guano, the invitation could not be refused;
but, as for Lady Mason herself, she would much have preferred to
remain at home.
Indeed, her uneasiness on that guano matter had been so outweighed
by worse uneasiness from another source, that she had become, if not
indifferent, at any rate tranquil on the subject. It might be well
that Sir Peregrine should preach his sermon, and well that Lucius
should hear it; but for herself it would, she thought, have been more
comfortable for her to eat her dinner alone. She felt, however, that
she could not do so. Any amount of tedium would be better than the
danger of offering a slight to Sir Peregrine, and therefore she wrote
a pretty little note to say that both of them would be at The Cleeve
at seven.
"Lucius, my dear, I want you to do me a great favour," she said as
she sat by her son in the Hamworth fly.
"A great favour, mother! of course I will do anything for you that I
can."
"It is that you will bear with Sir Peregrine to-night."
"Bear with him! I do not know exactly what you mean. Of course I will
remember that he is an old man, and not answer him as I would one of
my own age."
"I am sure of that, Lucius, because you are a gentleman. As much
forbearance as that a young man, if he be a gentleman, will always
show to an old man. But what I ask is something more than that. Sir
Peregrine has been farming all his life."
"Yes; and see what are the results! He has three or four hundred
acres of uncultivated land on his estate, all of which would grow
wheat."
"I know nothing about that," said Lady Mason.
"Ah, but that's the question. My trade is to be that of a farmer, and
you are sending me to school. Then comes the question, Of what sort
is the schoolmaster?"
"I am not talking about farming now, Lucius."
"But he will talk of it."
"And cannot you listen to him without contradicting him--for my
sake? It is of the greatest consequence to me,--of the very
greatest, Lucius, that I should have the benefit of Sir Peregrine's
friendship."
"If he would quarrel with you because I chanced to disagree with
him about the management of land, his friendship would not be worth
having."
"I do not say that he will do so; but I am sure you can understand
that an old man may be tender on such points. At any rate I ask it
from you as a favour. You cannot guess how important it is to me to
be on good terms with such a neighbour."
"It is always so in England," said Lucius, after pausing for a while.
"Sir Peregrine is a man of family, and a baronet; of course all the
world, the world of Hamworth that is, should bow down at his feet.
And I too must worship the golden image which Nebuchadnezzar, the
King of Fashion, has set up!"
"Lucius, you are unkind to me."
"No, mother, not unkind; but like all men, I would fain act in such
matters as my own judgment may direct me."
"My friendship with Sir Peregrine Orme has nothing to do with his
rank; but it is of importance to me that both you and I should stand
well in his sight." There was nothing more said on the matter; and
then they got down at the front door, and were ushered through the
low wide hall into the drawing-room.
The three generations of the family were there,--Sir Peregrine, his
daughter-in-law, and the heir. Lucius Mason had been at The Cleeve
two or three times since his return from Germany, and on going there
had always declared to himself that it was the same to him as though
he were going into the house of Mrs. Arkwright, the doctor's widow at
Hamworth,--or even into the kitchen of Farmer Greenwood. He rejoiced
to call himself a democrat, and would boast that rank could have no
effect on him. But his boast was an untrue boast, and he could not
carry himself at The Cleeve as he would have done and did in Mrs.
Arkwright's little drawing-room. There was a majesty in the manner
of Sir Peregrine which did awe him; there were tokens of birth
and a certain grace of manner about Mrs. Orme which kept down his
assumption; and even with young Peregrine he found that though he
might be equal he could by no means be more than equal. He had
learned more than Peregrine Orme, had ten times more knowledge in his
head, had read books of which Peregrine did not even know the names
and probably never would know them; but on his side also young Orme
possessed something which the other wanted. What that something might
be Lucius Mason did not at all understand.
Mrs. Orme got up from her corner on the sofa to greet her friend, and
with a soft smile and two or three all but whispered words led her
forward to the fire. Mrs. Orme was not a woman given to much speech
or endowed with outward warmth of manners, but she could make her few
words go very far; and then the pressure of her hand, when it was
given, told more than a whole embrace from some other women. There
are ladies who always kiss their female friends, and always call them
"dear." In such cases one cannot but pity her who is so bekissed.
Mrs. Orme did not kiss Lady Mason, nor did she call her dear; but she
smiled sweetly as she uttered her greeting, and looked kindness out
of her marvellously blue eyes; and Lucius Mason, looking on over his
mother's shoulders, thought that he would like to have her for his
friend in spite of her rank. If Mrs. Orme would give him a lecture on
farming it might be possible to listen to it without contradiction;
but there was no chance for him in that respect. Mrs. Orme never gave
lectures to any one on any subject.
"So, Master Lucius, you have been to Liverpool, I hear," said Sir
Peregrine.
"Yes, sir--I returned yesterday."
"And what is the world doing at Liverpool?"
"The world is wide awake there, sir."
"Oh, no doubt; when the world has to make money it is always
wide awake. But men sometimes may be wide awake and yet make no
money;--may be wide awake, or at any rate think that they are so."
"Better that, Sir Peregrine, than wilfully go to sleep when there is
so much work to be done."
"A man when he's asleep does no harm," said Sir Peregrine.
"What a comfortable doctrine to think of when the servant comes with
the hot water at eight o'clock in the morning!" said his grandson.
"It is one that you study very constantly, I fear," said the old man,
who at this time was on excellent terms with his heir. There had
been no apparent hankering after rats since that last compact had
been made, and Peregrine had been doing great things with the H. H.;
winning golden opinions from all sorts of sportsmen, and earning a
great reputation for a certain young mare which had been bred by Sir
Peregrine himself. Foxes are vermin as well as rats, as Perry in his
wickedness had remarked; but a young man who can break an old one's
heart by a predilection for rat-catching may win it as absolutely
and irretrievably by prowess after a fox. Sir Peregrine had told to
four different neighbours how a fox had been run into, in the open,
near Alston, after twelve desperate miles, and how on that occasion
Peregrine had been in at the death with the huntsman and only one
other. "And the mare, you know, is only four years old and hardly
half trained," said Sir Peregrine, with great exultation. "The young
scamp, to have ridden her in that way!" It may be doubted whether he
would have been a prouder man or said more about it if his grandson
had taken honours.
And then the gong sounded, and, Sir Peregrine led Lady Mason into the
dining-room. Lucius, who as we know thought no more of the Ormes than
of the Joneses and Smiths, paused in his awe before he gave his arm
to Mrs. Orme; and when he did so he led her away in perfect silence,
though he would have given anything to be able to talk to her as
he went. But he bethought himself that unfortunately he could find
nothing to say. And when he sat down it was not much better. He had
not dined at The Cleeve before, and I am not sure whether the butler
in plain clothes and the two men in livery did not help to create his
confusion,--in spite of his well-digested democratic ideas.
The conversation during dinner was not very bright. Sir Peregrine
said a few words now and again to Lady Mason, and she replied with
a few others. On subjects which did not absolutely appertain to the
dinner, she perhaps was the greatest talker; but even she did not say
much. Mrs. Orme as a rule never spoke unless she were spoken to in
any company consisting of more than herself and one other; and young
Peregrine seemed to imagine that carving at the top of the table,
asking people if they would take stewed beef, and eating his own
dinner, were occupations quite sufficient for his energies. "Have a
bit more beef, Mason; do. If you will, I will." So far he went in
conversation, but no farther while his work was still before him.
When the servants were gone it was a little better, but not much.
"Mason, do you mean to hunt this season?" Peregrine asked.
"No," said the other.
"Well, I would if I were you. You will never know the fellows about
here unless you do."
"In the first place I can't afford the time," said Lucius, "and in
the next place I can't afford the money." This was plucky on his
part, and it was felt to be so by everybody in the room; but perhaps
had he spoken all the truth, he would have said also that he was not
accustomed to horsemanship.
"To a fellow who has a place of his own as you have, it costs
nothing," said Peregrine.
"Oh, does it not?" said the baronet; "I used to think differently."
"Well; not so much, I mean, as if you had everything to buy. Besides,
I look upon Mason as a sort of Croesus. What on earth has he got
to do with his money? And then as to time;--upon my word I don't
understand what a man means when he says he has not got time for
hunting."
"Lucius intends to be a farmer," said his mother.
"So do I," said Peregrine. "By Jove, I should think so. If I had two
hundred acres of land in my own hand I should not want anything else
in the world, and would never ask any one for a shilling."
"If that be so, I might make the best bargain at once that ever a man
made," said the baronet. "If I might take you at your word, Master
Perry--."
"Pray don't talk of it, sir," said Mrs. Orme.
"You may be quite sure of this, my dear--that I shall not do more
than talk of it." Then Sir Peregrine asked Lady Mason if she would
take any more wine; after which the ladies withdrew, and the lecture
commenced.
But we will in the first place accompany the ladies into the
drawing-room for a few minutes. It was hinted in one of the first
chapters of this story that Lady Mason might have become more
intimate than she had done with Mrs. Orme, had she so pleased it; and
by this it will of course be presumed that she had not so pleased.
All this is perfectly true. Mrs. Orme had now been living at The
Cleeve the greater portion of her life, and had never while there
made one really well-loved friend. She had a sister of her own, and
dear old friends of her childhood, who lived far away from her in
the northern counties. Occasionally she did see them, and was then
very happy; but this was not frequent with her. Her sister, who was
married to a peer, might stay at The Cleeve for a fortnight, perhaps
once in the year; but Mrs. Orme herself seldom left her own home. She
thought, and certainly not without cause, that Sir Peregrine was not
happy in her absence, and therefore she never left him. Then, living
there so much alone, was it not natural that her heart should desire
a friend?
But Lady Mason had been living much more alone. She had no sister to
come to her, even though it were but once a year. She had no intimate
female friend, none to whom she could really speak with the full
freedom of friendship, and it would have been delightful to have
bound to her by ties of love so sweet a creature as Mrs. Orme, a
widow like herself,--and like herself a widow with one only son. But
she, warily picking her steps through life, had learned the necessity
of being cautious in all things. The countenance of Sir Peregrine had
been invaluable to her, and might it not be possible that she should
lose that countenance? A word or two spoken now and then again, a
look not intended to be noticed, an altered tone, or perhaps a change
in the pressure of the old man's hand, had taught Lady Mason to think
that he might disapprove such intimacy. Probably at the moment she
was right, for she was quick at reading such small signs. It behoved
her to be very careful, and to indulge in no pleasure which might be
costly; and therefore she had denied herself in this matter,--as in
so many others.
But now it had occurred to her that it might be well to change her
conduct. Either she felt that Sir Peregrine's friendship for her was
too confirmed to be shaken, or perhaps she fancied that she might
strengthen it by means of his daughter-in-law. At any rate she
resolved to accept the offer which had once been tacitly made to her,
if it were still open to her to do so.
"How little changed your boy is!" she said, when they were seated
near to each other, with their coffee-cups between them.
"No; he does not change quickly; and, as you say, he is a boy still
in many things. I do not know whether it may not be better that it
should be so."
"I did not mean to call him a boy in that sense," said Lady Mason.
"But you might; now your son is quite a man."
"Poor Lucius! yes; in his position it is necessary. His little bit
of property is already his own; and then he has no one like Sir
Peregrine to look out for him. Necessity makes him manly."
"He will be marrying soon, I dare say," suggested Mrs. Orme.
"Oh, I hope not. Do you think that early marriages are good for young
men?"
"Yes, I think so. Why not?" said Mrs. Orme, thinking of her own year
of married happiness. "Would you not wish to see Lucius marry?"
"I fancy not. I should be afraid lest I should become as nothing to
him. And yet I would not have you think that I am selfish."
"I am sure that you are not that. I am sure that you love him better
than all the world besides. I can feel what that is myself."
"But you are not alone with your boy as I am. If he were to send me
from him, there would be nothing left for me in this world."
"Send you from him! Ah, because Orley Farm belongs to him. But he
would not do that; I am sure he would not."
"He would do nothing unkind; but how could he help it if his wife
wished it? But nevertheless I would not keep him single for that
reason;--no, nor for any reason if I knew that he wished to marry.
But it would be a blow to me."
"I sincerely trust that Peregrine may marry early," said Mrs. Orme,
perhaps thinking that babies were preferable either to rats or foxes.
"Yes, it would be well I am sure, because you have ample means, and
the house is large; and you would have his wife to love."
"If she were nice it would be so sweet to have her for a daughter. I
also am very much alone, though perhaps not so much as you are, Lady
Mason."
"I hope not--for I am sometimes very lonely."
"I have often thought that."
"But I should be wicked beyond everything if I were to complain,
seeing that Providence has given me so much that I had no right to
expect. What should I have done in my loneliness if Sir Peregrine's
hand and door had never been opened to me?" And then for the next
half-hour the two ladies held sweet converse together, during which
we will go back to the gentlemen over their wine.
[Illustration: Over their Wine.]
"Are you drinking claret?" said Sir Peregrine, arranging himself and
his bottles in the way that was usual to him. He had ever been a
moderate man himself, but nevertheless he had a business-like way of
going to work after dinner, as though there was a good deal to be
done before the drawing-room could be visited.
"No more wine for me, sir," said Lucius.
"No wine!" said Sir Peregrine the elder.
"Why, Mason, you'll never get on if that's the way with you," said
Peregrine the younger.
"I'll try at any rate," said the other.
"Water-drinker, moody thinker," and Peregrine sang a word or two from
an old drinking-song.
"I am not quite sure of that. We Englishmen I suppose are the
moodiest thinkers in all the world, and yet we are not so much given
to water-drinking as our lively neighbours across the Channel."
Sir Peregrine said nothing more on the subject, but he probably
thought that his young friend would not be a very comfortable
neighbour. His present task, however, was by no means that of
teaching him to drink, and he struck off at once upon the business he
had undertaken. "So your mother tells me that you are going to devote
all your energies to farming."
"Hardly that, I hope. There is the land, and I mean to see what I
can do with it. It is not much, and I intend to combine some other
occupation with it."
"You will find that two hundred acres of land will give you a good
deal to do;--that is if you mean to make money by it."
"I certainly hope to do that,--in the long run."
"It seems to me the easiest thing in the world," said Peregrine.
"You'll find out your mistake some day; but with Lucius Mason it is
very important that he should make no mistake at the commencement.
For a country gentleman I know no prettier amusement than
experimental farming;--but then a man must give up all idea of making
his rent out of the land."
"I can't afford that," said Lucius.
"No; and that is why I take the liberty of speaking to you. I hope
that the great friendship which I feel for your mother will be
allowed to stand as my excuse."
"I am very much obliged by your kindness, sir; I am indeed."
"The truth is, I think you are beginning wrong. You have now been to
Liverpool, to buy guano, I believe."
"Yes, that and some few other things. There is a man there who has
taken out a patent--"
"My dear fellow, if you lay out your money in that way, you will
never see it back again. Have you considered in the first place what
your journey to Liverpool has cost you?"
"Exactly nine and sixpence per cent. on the money that I laid out
there. Now that is not much more than a penny in the pound on the sum
expended, and is not for a moment to be taken into consideration in
comparison with the advantage of an improved market."
There was more in this than Sir Peregrine had expected to encounter.
He did not for a moment doubt the truth of his own experience or
the folly and the danger of the young man's proceedings; but he did
doubt his own power of proving either the one or the other to one
who so accurately computed his expenses by percentages on his outlay.
Peregrine opened his eyes and sat by, wondering in silence. What on
earth did Mason mean by an improved market?
"I am afraid then," said the baronet, "that you must have laid out a
large sum of money."
"A man can't do any good, Sir Peregrine, by hoarding his capital. I
don't think very much of capital myself--"
"Don't you?"
"Not of the theory of capital;--not so much as some people do; but
if a man has got it, of course it should be expended on the trade to
which it is to be applied."
"But some little knowledge--some experience is perhaps desirable
before any great outlay is made."
"Yes; some little knowledge is necessary,--and some great knowledge
would be desirable if it were accessible;--but it is not, as I take
it."
"Long years, perhaps, devoted to such pursuits--"
"Yes, Sir Peregrine; I know what you are going to say. Experience no
doubt will teach something. A man who has walked thirty miles a day
for thirty years will probably know what sort of shoes will best suit
his feet, and perhaps also the kind of food that will best support
him through such exertion; but there is very little chance of his
inventing any quicker mode of travelling."
"But he will have earned his wages honestly," said Sir Peregrine,
almost angrily. In his heart he was very angry, for he did not love
to be interrupted.
"Oh, yes; and if that were sufficient we might all walk our thirty
miles a day. But some of us must earn wages for other people, or the
world will make no progress. Civilization, as I take it, consists in
efforts made not for oneself but for others."
"If you won't take any more wine we will join the ladies," said the
baronet.
"He has not taken any at all," said Peregrine, filling his own glass
for the last time and emptying it.
"That young man is the most conceited puppy it was ever my misfortune
to meet," said Sir Peregrine to Mrs. Orme, when she came to kiss him
and take his blessing as she always did before leaving him for the
night.
"I am sorry for that," said she, "for I like his mother so much."
"I also like her," said Sir Peregrine; "but I cannot say that I shall
ever be very fond of her son."
"I'll tell you what, mamma," said young Peregrine, the same evening
in his mother's dressing-room. "Lucius Mason was too many for the
governor this evening."
"I hope he did not tease your grandfather."
"He talked him down regularly, and it was plain that the governor did
not like it."
And then the day was over.