BUTS REBUTTED
Sir Duncan Yordas was a man of impulse, as almost every man must be who
sways the wills of other men. But he had not acted upon mere impulse in
casting away his claim to Scargate. He knew that he could never live in
that bleak spot, after all his years in India; he disliked the place,
through his father's harshness; he did not care that any son of his, who
had lain under charge of a foul crime, and fled instead of meeting it,
should become a “Yordas of Scargate Hall,” although that description by
no means involved any very strict equity of conduct. And besides these
reasons, he had another, which will appear very shortly. But whatever
the secondary motives were, it was a large and generous act.
When Mrs. Carnaby saw her brother, she was sure that he was come to
turn her out, and went through a series of states of mind natural to
an adoring mother with a frail imagination of an appetite--as she
poetically described it. She was not very swift of apprehension,
although so promptly alive to anything tender, refined, and succulent.
Having too strong a sense of duty to be guilty of any generosity, she
could not believe, either then or thereafter, that her brother had cast
away anything at all, except a mere shred of a lawsuit. And without any
heed of chronology--because (as she justly inquired), what two clocks
are alike?--she was certain that if he did anything at all to drive off
those horrible lawyers from the house, there was no credit due to any
one but Pet. It was the noble way Pet looked at him!
Pet, being introduced to his uncle, after dinner, when he came home from
fishing, certainly did look nobly at him, if a long stare is noble.
Then he went up to him, with a large and liberal sniff, and an affable
inquiry, as a little dog goes up to a big one. Sir Duncan was amused,
having heard already some little particulars about this youth, whose
nature he was able to enter into as none but a Yordas could rightly do.
However, he was bound to make the best of him, and did so; discovering
not only room for improvement, but some hope of that room being
occupied.
“The boy has been shockingly spoiled,” he said to his sister Philippa
that evening; “also he is dreadfully ignorant. None of us are very great
at scholarship, and never have much occasion for it. But things are
becoming very different now. Everybody is beginning to be expected to
know everything. Very likely, as soon as I am no more wanted, I shall be
voted a blockhead. Luckily the wars keep people from being too choice,
when their pick goes every minute. And this may stop the fuss, that
comes from Scotland mainly, about universal distribution--or some big
words--of education. 'Pet,' as you call him, is a very clever fellow,
with much more shape of words about him than ever I was blessed with. In
spelling I saw that he was my master; and so I tried him with geography,
and all he knew of India was that it takes its name from India rubber!”
“Now I call that clever of him,” said Miss Yordas; “for I really might
have forgotten even that. But the fatal defect in his education has
been the want of what you grow, chiefly in West India perhaps--the
cane, Duncan, the sugar-cane. I have read all about it; you can tell me
nothing. You suck it, you smoke it, and you beat your children with it.”
“Well,” said Sir Duncan, who was not quite sure, in the face of such
authority, “I disremember; but perhaps they do in some parts, because
the country is so large. But it is not the ignorance of Pet I care
for--such a fault is natural and unavoidable; and who is there to pick
holes in it? The boy knows a great deal more than I did at his age,
because he is so much younger. But, Philippa, unless you do something
with him, he will never be a gentleman.”
“Duncan, you are hard. You have seen so much.”
“The more we see, the softer we become. The one thing we harden against
is lying--the seed, the root, and the substance of all vileness. I am
sorry to say your Pet is a liar.”
“He does not always tell the truth, I know. But bear in mind, Duncan,
that his mother did not insist--and, in fact, she does not herself
always--”
“I know it; I am grieved that it should come from our side. I never
cared for his father much, because he went against me; but this I will
say for him, Lance Carnaby would sooner cut his tongue out that put it
to a lie. When I am at home, my dealings are with fellows who could
not speak the truth if they tried for dear life, simply through want
of practice. They are like your lower class of horse-dealers, but with
infinitely more intelligence. It is late to teach poor Pet the first of
all lessons; and for me to stop to do it is impossible. But will you try
to save further disgrace to a scapegrace family, but not a mean one?”
“I feel it as much as you do--perhaps more,” Miss Yordas answered,
forgetting altogether about the deed-box and her antiquary. “You need
not tell me how very sad it is. But how can it be cured? His mother is
his mother. She never would part with him; and her health is delicate.”
“Stronger than either yours or mine, unless she takes too much
nourishment. Philippa, her will is mere petulance. For her own good, we
must set it aside. And if you agree with me, it can be done. He must go
into a marching regiment at once, ordered abroad, with five shillings in
his pocket, earn his pay, and live upon it. This patched-up peace will
never last six months. The war must be fought out till France goes down,
or England. I can get him a commission; and I know the colonel, a man of
my own sort, who sees things done, instead of talking. It would be the
making of Lancelot. He has plenty of courage, but it has been milched.
At Oxford or Cambridge he would do no good, but simply be ruined by
having his own way. Under my friend Colonel Thacker, he will have a hard
time of it, and tell no lies.”
Thus it was settled. There was a fearful outcry, hysterics of an elegant
order, and weepings enough to produce summer spate in the Tees. But the
only result was the ordering of the tailor, the hosier, the boot-maker,
and the scissors-grinder to put a new edge upon Squire Philip's razors,
that Pet might practice shaving. “Cold-blooded cruelty, savage homicide;
cannibalism itself is kinder,” said poor Mrs. Carnaby, when she saw the
razors; but Pet insisted upon having them, made lather, and practiced
with the backs, till he began to understand them.
“He promises well; I have great hopes of him,” Sir Duncan said to
himself. “He has pride; and no proud boy can be long a liar. I will go
and consult my dear old friend Bart.”
Mr. Bart, who was still of good bodily strength, but becoming less
resolute in mind than of yore, was delighted to see his old friend
again; and these two men, having warm, proud hearts, preserved each
other from self-contempt by looking away through the long hand-clasp.
For each of them was to the other almost the only man really respected
in the world.
Betwixt them such a thing as concealment could not be. The difference in
their present position was a thing to laugh at. Sir Duncan looked up to
Bart as being the maker of his character, and Bart admired Sir Duncan
as a newer and wiser edition of himself. They dispatched the past in a
cheery talk; for the face of each was enough to show that it might have
been troublous--as all past is--but had slidden into quiet satisfaction
now, and a gentle flow of experience. Then they began to speak of
present matters, and the residue of time before them; and among other
things, Sir Duncan Yordas spoke of his nephew Lancelot.
“Lancelot Yordas Carnaby,” said Bart, with the smile of a gray-beard at
young love's dream, “has done us the honor to fall in love, for ever and
ever, with our little Insie. And the worst of it is that she likes him.”
“What an excellent idea!” his old friend answered; “I was sure there was
something of that sort going on. Now betwixt love and war we shall make
a man of Pet.”
As shortly as possible he told Mr. Bart what his plan about his nephew
was, and how he had carried it against maternal, and now must carry
it against maiden, love. If Lancelot had any good stuff in him, any
vertebrate embryo of honesty, to be put among men, and upon his mettle
(with a guardian angel in the distance of sweet home), would stablish
all the man in him, and stint the beast. Mr. Bart, though he hated hard
fighting, admitted that for weak people it was needful; and was only too
happy so to cut the knot of his own home entanglements with the ruthless
sword. For a man of liberal education, and much experience in spending
money, who can put a new bottom to his own saucepan, is not the one to
feel any despair of his fellow-creatures mending.
Then arose the question, who should bell the cat, or rather, who should
lead the cat to the belling. Pet must be taken, under strong duress, to
the altar--as his poor mother said, and shrieked--whereat he was to shed
his darling blood. His heart was in his mouth when his uniform came; and
he gave his sacred honor to fly, straight as an arrow, to the port where
his regiment was getting into boats; but Sir Duncan shook his grizzled
head. “Somebody must see him into it,” he said. “Not a lady; no, no,
my dear Eliza. I can not go myself; but it must be a man of rigidity, a
stern agent. Oh, I know! how stupid of me!”
“You mean poor dear Mr. Jellicorse,” suggested Mrs. Carnaby, with a
short hot sob. “But, Duncan, he has not the heart for it. For anything
honest and loyal and good, kind people may trust him with their lives.
But to tyranny, rapine, and manslaughter, he never could lend his fine
honorable face.”
“I mean a man of a very different cast--a man who knows what time is
worth; a man who is going to be married on a Sunday, that he may not
lose the day. He has to take three days' holiday, because the lady is an
heiress; otherwise he might get off with one. But he hopes to be at work
again on Wednesday, and we will have him here post-haste from York on
Thursday. It will be the very job to suit him--a gentleman of Roman
ancestry, and of the name of Mordacks.”
“My heart was broken already; and now I can feel the poor pieces flying
into my brain. Oh, why did I ever have a babe for monsters of the name
of Mordacks to devour?”
Mordacks was only too glad to come. On the very day after their union,
Calpurnia (likewise of Roman descent) had exhibited symptoms of a strong
will of her own.
Mordacks had temporized during their courtship; but now she was his, and
must learn the great fact. He behaved very well, and made no attempt at
reasoning (which would have been a fatal course), but promptly donned
cloak, boots, and spurs while his horse was being saddled, and then set
off, with his eyes fixed firmly upon business. A crow could scarcely
make less than fifty miles from York to Scargate, and the factor's
trusty roadster had to make up his mind to seventy. So great, however,
is sometimes the centrifugal force of Hymen, that upon the third day Mr.
Mordacks was there, vigorous, vehement, and fit for any business.
When he heard what it was, it liked him well; for he bore a fine grudge
against Lancelot for setting the dogs at him three years ago, when he
came (as an agent for adjoining property) to the house of Yordas,
and when Mr. Jellicorse scorned to meet an illegal meddler with legal
matters. If Mordacks had any fault--and he must have had some, in spite
of his resolute conviction to the contrary--it was that he did not
altogether scorn revenge.
Lives there man, or even woman, capable of describing now the miseries,
the hardships, the afflictions beyond groaning, which, like electric
hail, came down upon the sacred head of Pet? He was in the grasp
of three strong men--his uncle, Mr. Bart, worst of all, that
Mordacks--escape was impossible, lamentation met with laughter, and
passion led to punishment. Even stern Maunder was sorry for him,
although he despised him for feeling it. The only beam of light, the
only spark of pleasure, was his royal uniform; and to know that Insie's
laugh thereat was hollow, and would melt away to weeping when he was out
of sight, together with the sulky curiosity of Maunder, kept him up a
little, in this time of bitter sacrifice.
Enough that he went off, at last, in the claws of that Roman
hippogriff--as Mrs. Carnaby savagely called poor Mordacks--and the
visitor's flag hung half-mast high, and Saracen and the other dogs made
a howling dirge, with such fine hearts (as the poor mother said, between
her sobs) that they got their dinners upon china plates.
Sir Duncan had left before this, and was back under Dr. Upround's
hospitable roof. He had made up his mind to put his fortune, or rather
his own value, to the test, in a place of deep interest to him now, the
heart of the fair Janetta. He knew that, according to popular view, he
was much too old for this young lady; but for popular view he cared not
one doit, if her own had the courage and the will to go against it. For
years he had sternly resisted all temptation of second marriage, toward
which shrewd mothers and nice maidens had labored in vain to lead him.
But the bitter disappointment about his son, and that long illness, and
the tender nursing (added to the tenderness of his own sides, from
lying upon them, with a hard dry cough), had opened some parts of his
constitution to matrimonial propensities. Miss Upround was of a playful
nature, and teased everybody she cared about; and although Sir Duncan
was a great hero to her, she treated him sometimes as if he were her
doll. Being a grave man, he liked this, within the bounds of good taste
and manners; and the young lady always knew where to stop. From being
amused with her, he began to like her; and from liking her, he went on
to miss her; and from missing her to wanting her was no long step.
However, Sir Duncan was not at all inclined to make a fool of himself
herein. He liked the lady very much, and saw that she would suit him,
and help him well in the life to which he was thinking of returning. For
within the last fortnight a very high post at Calcutta had been offered
to him by the powers in Leadenhall Street, upon condition of sailing at
once, and foregoing the residue of his leave. If matters had been to his
liking in England, he certainly would have declined it; but after his
sad disappointment, and the serious blow to his health, he resolved to
accept it, and set forth speedily. The time was an interlude of the war,
and ships need not wait for convoy.
This had induced him to take his Yorkshire affairs (which Mordacks had
been forced to intermit during his Derbyshire campaign) into his own
hands, and speed the issue, as above related. And part of his plan was
to quit all claim to present possession of Scargate; that if the young
lady should accept his suit, it might not in any way be for the sake of
the landed interest. As it happened, he had gone much further than this,
and cast away his claim entirely, to save his sister from disgrace and
the family property from lawyers. And now having sought Dr. Upround's
leave (which used to be thought the proper thing to do), he asked
Janetta whether she would have him, and she said, “No, but he might have
her.” Upon this he begged permission to set the many drawbacks before
her, and she nodded her head, and told him to begin.
“I am of a Yorkshire family. But, I am sorry to say that their temper is
bad, and they must have their own way too much.”
“But, that suits me; and I understand it. Because I must have my own way
too.”
“But, I have parted with my inheritance, and have no place in this
country now.”
“But, I am very glad of that. Because I shall be able to go about.”
“But, India is a dreadfully hot country; many creatures tease you, and
you get tired of almost everything.”
“But, that will make it all the more refreshing not to be tired of you,
perhaps.”
“But, I have a son as old as you, or older.”
“But, you scarcely suppose that I can help that!”
“But, my hair is growing gray, and I have great crow's-feet, and
everybody will begin to say--”
“But, I don't believe a word of it, and I won't have it; and I don't
care a pin's head what all the world says put together, so long as you
don't belong to it.”