PEPPERCORNS
Before I went away, which I was obliged to do without even a glimpse of
Dariel, her father very kindly put this question to me, "Do you really
wish to know more, my friend, of the scheme which has brought me to this
lonely valley, and kept me occupied here so long, in the hope that I may
be of service to the race which has trusted and loved me, but received
from me as yet no better reward than disaster and war? You are eager to
be told? Then if you can come on Saturday, when the work of the day has
been accomplished, you shall hear, not of that alone, but of things
which have befallen me, from which you will perceive most clearly that
the greater the distance preserved henceforth between Mr. Cranleigh and
all Caucasians, the better it will be for his welfare and that of all
his relations."
Now it is useless for me to trouble anybody, even if anybody would be
troubled, with all the wild thoughts that came into my head, and all the
sad things that would not let my heart alone, as I went with this burden
of doubt to bear. It must not be supposed for a moment, because I have
chanced not to touch upon the matter, that I had cast away all sense of
duty to my relatives in this adventure. The home, and the farm, and the
welfare of the family had not been impaired by a single penny, through
what some might call the distraction of my mind. Only let every one
attend to business, as I had never failed to do all this time, and what
a different place the world would be! And as for disturbing my father
and mother, with any description of what had happened to myself, when
the chances were that all of it would come to nothing--that would indeed
have been a wicked thing to do, in spite of all their preference for
Harold.
So clear was I from doubt upon that score, and all my proceedings had
been so blameless, ever since that casual "peep through the hedge,"--as
Dariel's father called it,--that instead of any squeamishness or
self-reproach, I had two points to dwell upon of maltreatment to myself.
Why had I been sent to London on a special errand, and then deprived of
all chance of completing it? And again, had I been told of that hateful
Prince Hafer, and purposely goaded into just wrath against him, simply
that I might break forth into rude behaviour, and so be dismissed as a
savage, who could not control himself before a lady?
That supposition was too wretched to be borne with, not for the low
esteem of me it implied, but rather on account of the paltriness imputed
to the highest, and noblest, and loveliest of her sex. Against all that
my truer mind revolted, and my own experience did the like. But men have
a trick of saying such small things about women (when the feminine back
is turned), partly because they think it lofty so to speak, and partly
because of the poets and sages who have set them this example, and
partly (a very small part, let us hope) in right of their own
experience. And these things come into a man's lower mind, when
depression sinks it in the mud-deposits of the heart.
"Halloa, George Cranleigh! What a blue study you must be in! Don't I
carry a light at my fore-peak? And if you can't see it you might smell
it."
It was rather dark as I came near home, after that interview with the
police, and the trees at the back of the Hall were thick; but I might
have seen Stoneman and his cigar, if I had been at all on the lookout.
"Come in," he went on; "I waylaid you because I want a chat with you
most uncommonly, and they told me at your den that you were gone this
way. Fishing again? No rod this time! But perhaps you leave it at some
farmhouse." This man had his little faults; and among them was a trick
of suggesting a handy fib, and then smashing it, if adopted; the which
is not a friendly trick. "Not been fishing, eh? Something better, I
daresay. Well, come in here; I want to show you something good, and the
wonderful fellow who does it."
This was as dark as the sky itself to me. But I followed him, for he was
a leading man; and in little matters I submit my steps to theirs.
Verily, on this occasion I did not walk amiss. For when we were in
Jackson Stoneman's little crib, such as any man of nous, with a big roof
over his head, is fain to keep for his own better moments, there was
something which no magnificence can bring home into the simple human
breast. Who is the most delightful writer of our race, since Heaven took
Shakespeare away in hot haste, when his hand was too close on the Tree
of Life? The answer, although so long in coming, comes louder, as every
year adds to the echo--"William Makepeace Thackeray."
That man of vast brain, with the fresh heart of a child, would have been
pleased to see what I beheld; and his tender touch only could have
touched it off. A bright fire was burning in a low, plain grate, there
was not a whiff of smoke throughout it, and in front of the red clear
glow, at a distance nicely calculated, stood a beautiful machine with
its back to us. Kneeling on the rug was a long-sided man, so intent on
his work that he never heard the door, with a silver spoon (once
apostolic perhaps) in his right hand, and a long slender crook in his
left. What he was tending could not be seen as yet; but a glorious
fragrance held possession of the air, and wafted a divine afflatus to
any heart not utterly insensible. Sûr Imar's broil was not a patch upon
it.
"Ach! it is to spoil everyting dat you are here." The artist frowned and
grunted, without getting up, as Stoneman introduced me. "My name is
Hopmann; but dese bairds, what will dere names be, if I interrupt?"
Peeping in over the lid of the alcove, which had an enamel lining, I saw
four partridges hung skilfully from hooks, with a swivel to each; so
that every bird might revolve with zeal, or pause with proper feeling,
as his sense of perfection and of duty bade him. While in the tray
beneath them, some clear brown gravy was simmering, with a beaded eddy
where the basting trickled. In and out among them, the silver spoon was
gliding most skilfully and impartially, administering a drip to each,
as sweetly and fairly as their own dear mother did it, in their happy
nest. But instead of their dear mother, alas, it was not even an
Englishman who was tending them, but a German doctor with a very red
face, gazing most severely at them through big silver spectacles. "Not
you look! Not you come near!" this gentleman cried, as he gave me a
push, in return for the bow I offered him.
"Come in here, George," said Stoneman, with a wink at me. "Let him
alone, and I will tell you all about him. He is the best fellow that
ever lived; but you will never get it out of his head that almost
everything we do is wrong."
"Everyting, everyting! Not almost, but everyting the Englishman do
wrong," the Herr Doctor shouted, as Stoneman led me into the next room,
where a snug supper-table was set out for the three of us.
"Rather a queer customer, isn't he?" said my host; "but I have known him
more than ten years now, and got ten times as fond of him every year. He
is the kindest-hearted fellow I ever came across; and there is scarcely
anything he cannot do. He is well-known in London; he might be Professor
of this, that, and the other. But he has not a particle of ambition,
though he values his profession mightily. He is fond of money, of
course; but chiefly for the sake of his widowed mother, and two sisters
whom he supports. You know that old Chalker of Cobstone Hill went the
way of all flesh last month, leaving a large practice, all abroad. Well,
I persuaded Hopmann to take to it, for they were paying him shamefully
in London, for a lot of work at one of the hospitals. He has only been
here about a fortnight yet, but he is sure to get on; he must get on;
nothing comes amiss to him. And I want you to help him, wherever you
can: you need have no fear, he is quite tip-top--too good a great deal
for a country practice. But he would never do in London; he is too
honest--sees through any humbug in a moment, and would tell the patient
so, though he were of the Royal family. But you should see Hopmann with
some old woman, who will never say 'thank you,' or pay him sixpence.
That is what I admire in a man; and that tells for him too in the end,
you may be sure. But come along, he is calling us, and he will be in a
fury, if we let all his beautiful cookery spoil. All right, Hopmann, hop
along, old fellow. A metal dish apiece for us, piping hot."
"And ze last baird, he stay here and keep hot himself! And he become ze
property of ze first gent zat is ready. Now, Mr. Cranleigh, you tell
truth! You never taste bartrich before. For why? Because you cannot cook
them in this land. You take away everyting that gives what you call ze
flavour, that penetrates ze whole system of ze baird. Ach! I will cook
again for you, you shall see. Shackson is not half so wise."
I was fortunate enough to please him, and not in words alone, for the
effect of my bit of lunch had quite worn off. In a very short time (as
happens now and then when two men widely different in their main lines
meet) our little corners, which are the clinging points, had fitted very
nicely into one another; and I longed to know more of the man, because I
knew so much of him already. For who cares to get nearer to a man who
keeps his distance?
"Hopmann is a queer fellow in his way, but in a very good sort of a
way," said Jackson Stoneman, as we two filled our pipes, and he lit his
half-a-crown cigar, which I would not have smoked for half-a-crown; "I
am glad to see you enter into each other's merits. Now, will you fall in
with a little plan which I have conceived for the good of us all? My
German friend is an excellent shot. He can knock a bird over, as well as
he can cook it. He was out with us on the first, when George Cranleigh
would not come. Two or three swells were inclined to laugh, but he very
soon turned the laugh on them. Garrod said that he never saw such a
hand, which was not very graceful to the man who pays his wages. I have
not yet found anything that Hopmann cannot do."
"Shackson, there are two tings vot he cannot do. He cannot ride very
well ze horse, and he cannot listen to his own braises."
"Never mind, he will very soon learn both accomplishments, and then he
will be absolutely perfect. But we have a little campaign in view for
the day after to-morrow. We have only been round the outskirts yet, we
have not touched the best part of the shooting. Herr Doctor, will you
come with your 16-bore, that wiped the eye of several of our thundering
twelves, and show us straight powder on Thursday?"
"I vill only come on ze onderstandings of before--that all ze bairds I
do shoot shall belong to me, to take home."
"You shall carry off, and cook with their trails in, every blessed bird
you knock over. And now about you, George. I have never seen you shoot,
but I hear you are very good. Are you afraid to try your hand against
this mighty German?"
This put me a little on my mettle, as was meant. Not that I ever cared
to shoot in competition; for that, as with fishing or any other friendly
sport, to my mind kills the enjoyment. Moreover I had refused Stoneman's
invitation, from a sort of pride--a very false pride it might be--about
walking by his leave upon land that had been ours. And I had taken no
certificate this year.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," I said. "I won't bring my gun, for I have
taken no licence, and I would not shoot without. But I'll come and work
the dogs for you; they know me as well as they know Garrod, and I shall
enjoy it quite as much."
"But Hopmann has taken no licence, either. As if any one would dare to
ask you about that, for shooting round here! I should like to see them
ask him even, when he is with me."
"For me it is to my conscience so,"--the German had a great gift of
winking both eyes, through his spectacles, with rapid alternation; "I am
not a subject of this realm. I make game of ze Game-laws."
However, I was not to be persuaded; and when the day came, there were
guns enough without mine, and far too many, as it seemed to me, for a
free beat and small enclosure. Luckily there was no covert-shooting yet;
but one or two of the dogs had most narrow escapes, and I was obliged to
interfere sometimes, and declare that I would walk them all back to
kennel, unless the men tried to be more careful. One dog was my own, a
very handsome lemon-and-white setter-bitch, who dropped to shot almost
before you could see the smoke; and yet somebody put a shot through her
ear, though I did not find it out till afterwards, or home she would
have gone, whatever they might think at losing the best of the bunch, as
one might say.
For there were six guns, sometimes close together,--a dangerous affair
for a country like that, even when every man knows his neighbour, and
each is an experienced and careful shot; most Cockneyfied too, for the
look of the thing; and I had a great mind to keep away from them. But
Stoneman would not hear of that; he had invited Lord Melladew, so he
said, purely as a compliment to me, and how could I refuse to come with
him? To this I could make no reply, being taken up with my own affairs
to such a degree that I was not at home concerning other people's
doings. The young Earl of Melladew was staying at the "Bell,"--which
used to be called the "Cranleigh Arms," until we went down in the
world,--and there he had his valet, and artistic outfit, and all his
large ideas, in the long room with the magnificent view, where our
tenant used to dry his onions. Now I am the very last to say a word
against people who have gone up in life, by merits which have been
denied to us. The first peer had proved himself a fine man of business,
and made an exemplary fortune by lucrative Army-contracts during the
Crimean war. If he compressed some dead cows in his hay, and compelled
his old sheep-dogs to serve their time still by posthumous fidelity in
the form of mutton,--as war correspondents on very short commons were
ungrateful enough at that time to aver,--all those and greater errors he
had redeemed by having a grandson as unlike him as possible.
This young nobleman (for so he might be called) had many very excellent
and amiable points. He was gentle, generous, and upright, more eager to
please than is altogether safe, except in a very rustic neighbourhood;
and even less conceited and affected in his manners than a young man of
good looks, fair position, and literary tendencies ought to be, for his
friends to consider him natural. Everybody in our village said that
without Farmer Jarge to certify it, they never could have taken his
Lordship for a Lord; though, considering the Boards, and the Hyænas this
and that, and the Parson that couldn't turn his coat-tails up till a
secondary motion put him into his own chair in the Vestry, there was no
call for any one to feel surprise if the great folk came down, and made
the little ones go up. Lord Melladew also was enthusiastic as to the
delights of country-life, and the glories of British industry; and this
helped him much with my sister, who never could understand why we should
be starved by foreign produce, when the land, and the people, and the
sky above our heads were exactly the same as she could remember always,
and there was as much to pay for everything as ever.
But our young nobleman proved most clearly, with an elegant sonnet in
the "Cobham Comet," entitled "Sit down to your own desserts," that
prosperity was to return to our land, and the Frenchman and Belgian be
blown away by volleys of grape and apple shot from the bulwark of
Britain at Farmer Bandilow's farm. Half a million fruit-trees would be
planted in October, and ten million bushels of apples, melons, peaches,
plums, grapes, pine-apples, apricots, pears, &c., would confront the
poor foreigner next August if he dared to attempt a landing.
My father was scarcely so sanguine, but said, "Let them have their try,
George, if rich people find the money. Things can be no worse, and some
poor fellows may find employment for the winter. Perhaps Mr. Stoneman
will take it up."
Stoneman, however, instead of doing that, showed an unaccountable
contempt and bitterness, not only towards the scheme itself, but all who
took any share in it. There seemed to be something in the matter that
touched him far more closely than any question of agriculture. Was it
Lord Melladew's long sojourn at the "Bell," and his frequent visits at
our cottage? Even now, with this young man his guest for the day, and
behaving most inoffensively, the grim stockbroker marched on in such a
manner, that I thought it my duty to remonstrate. "You haven't shot him
yet," I said, as we stood behind the others, "because it is not dark
enough. But if he gets peppered in the dusk, I shall know whose pot it
came from."
Stoneman gave me a grin, and behaved a little better, and did his best
to be polite at luncheon-time, and after the narrow shaves of the
morning things went on more carefully; for the men who knew nothing
about a gun had now learned to be afraid of it. Until, with the sun
getting low behind a wood, we came to a bit of gorse-land having a steep
fall towards a valley, favourite harbour for a fox, in the days when my
chief business was such pleasant sport and jollity. There were narrow
rides cut through the furze down hill, and across them tussocks of
welted fern, and strigs of moots that cropped up again, after the
fuelling had been cleared.
"Why, this is the place where the yellow bunnies live," said Stoneman,
as he opened a gate for us, and we stood on the crest of the furzy
slope. "I know a man, and a clever fellow too, who has offered a guinea
apiece for them. He has given up business, and set up his staff in a
wild part of Wales; and there he is going in for a breed of these yellow
rabbits. He has got a big name for the fur, and expects to cut out
Chinchilla with it. I have heard of our golden bunnies lots of times,
and seen some of them once or twice. Shall we get a sample for him, and
then offer him live bunnies, if he jumps at it?"
All agreed cheerfully to this, and the dogs were taken up, while the
men, peeping down the steep ridges, got a shot or two at any of the
coney race who might be dining carelessly. Then, as all of these proved
to be of the common grey sort, Garrod's boy was sent home for a couple
of rough terriers, to run the furze thickets, while the guns should
watch the rides, for two or three yellow fellows had skipped away
unscathed.
That boy took a long time in carrying out his message, and when he came
back with his father behind him, the dusk of September was settling in
the valley, while a wisp of silvery vapour stole along the brown
halberds of the gorse, and the russet clumps of bramble. But the
hillside now was ringing with the merry yelps of dogs, or the squeak of
some puppy in a tangled grip, while the low covert ruffled, or was
channelled here and there, with the sway of some resolute terrier hot in
chase.
This holiday had been a rare enjoyment to me, though crossed with
anxiety now and then, among so many barrels governed less by experience
than excitement. Most of all, as I said, about Lord Melladew, who strode
along so poetically, clad in green velveteen, beautifully made, but
terminating unluckily in very smart buff gaiters short and
spruce--concerning him I had prayed all day that he were safe back in
the onion loft. Not that he carried a gun to his own disadvantage as the
reckless do, neither did he fire at random, but was well content, in the
manner of the public, to shout according to the hit or miss.
"Shut up all," I called out sharply; "too dark, too dark! I expect to
see at least a dog shot, every moment."
A dog indeed! If I had said a man, and that man a live Earl--for bang,
bang, went the guns, just as if I had never spoken, and four or five
puffs of smoke, as if the hillside were on fire, rose from the avenues
poor bunny had to cross. "Yellow! Did you see, Shorje? yellow as ze gold
is!" The German doctor shouted as he pointed down a ride. "Shackson shot
too, but ze rabbit is to me. I will have ze guinea. Ach, mein Gott!"
Instead of a rabbit giving the last kick of death, what did we see
half-way down the slope but two buff coneys flying ever so much faster
than any coney ever flew before, each flashing in front of each other,
as if father fox were after both of them. "I am blowed if it isn't my
Lord," cried Garrod; "the foreigner have shot him morshial!"
"Vat you know, ze clods-having-to-hop-by-night-as-well-as-by-day fe-loe?
But keep your business, good fe-loe. If I have put ze shot in, I can
pull him out again. You shall see."
Guns were laid aside, and the doctor left there (for he seemed to make
nothing of peppering a lord, in comparison with basting partridges), and
down the steep pitch we raced after the Earl, who with a long start was
going like the wind. Do all we might, we could not get near him, until
he was brought up by a heavy post and rail, where the Dorking road winds
along the bottom. There he struck his chest, and in spite of being
winded, did no small credit to his lungs, by a power of shrieks that
rent the valley.
"What a coward!" cried Stoneman, who had kept up with me, though we both
had "gone croppers" once or twice. "He is all there for holloaing, at
any rate!"
But the worst of the business was yet to come. As we drew a pull of
breath, before rushing to the rescue, we heard a sudden clatter in the
road below, then we saw a wild dash of something dark, and a woman lay
on her back under a low tree. I leaped the rail fence, to which the Earl
was still clinging, and there lay my sister Grace, in her riding-habit,
while the sound of the runaway pony's hoofs came clanging round the
corner.
I lifted my darling sister Grace, and set her against the hedge-bank,
and my heart went out of me, as I knelt and whispered to her. If it had
been even Dariel, could my terror have been so terrible? I pulled her
riding-gloves off, and found a penny in them, the change the dear frugal
soul had taken from the last turnpike gate she paid. And then when I saw
her sweet kind face as white as a shroud, and the bright eyes closed,
and the long black lashes that I used to vow she dyed--when I wanted to
put her in a passion--lying upon the waxen cheeks, without caring a dump
what any other chap might think, I lifted up my voice and wept.
[Illustration: "_Her sweet kind face as white as a shroud._"]
"Shush, shush, don't be a fool, Shorje," said some fellow, pushing me
away; "ze gairl is only what you called shtunned. All raight, all
raight, in ten skips of ze vlea. My tear, I am ze dochtor."
I went across the road, and stood by Jackson Stoneman, who was standing
as firm as a rock, and pretending to play with the whip he had picked
up. "Look here," I said, "she will never pay another pike."
"Take a turn with me, my dear fellow," he replied; "Hopmann will get on
better without us. My housekeeper's mother lives round the corner.
Though the Lord knows that if all we want is a woman-- Lord Melladew, I
am so sorry for your little accident. You mustn't wear yellow spats, the
next time you go shooting. Garrod will help you to your inn, and the
doctor will come, when he has seen to this more urgent case. Garrod, let
his lordship throw all his weight on you. Stop a moment. Send your boy
at full speed to 'The Bell,' and order their low four-wheeler here. He
is not to say why, for fear of frightening Lady Cranleigh. And let him
take that villain of a pony to 'The Bell.'"
In less than an hour, I had the great joy of hearing that Grace was
quite conscious, and had no limbs broken, nor any other injury that a
few days would not cure. When the pony bolted at the shrieks and kicks
and swaying figure of his lordship, a branch across the road had swept
my sister from the saddle, but luckily it did not strike any vulnerable
part, unless the part that often wounds a man is such. In a word it was
her lump of hair, or what ladies call their _chignon_, into which she
was obliged to coil her tresses tight for riding, that received the
impact of the too obtrusive tree. But I scarcely knew what to conclude
about the doctor, or Stoneman himself, who had been so uneasy about a
young Earl hanging out so near our Grace, when, as sure as English words
were ever uttered by a German, I heard Hopmann whisper this condolence
to himself--"Zat was ze graidest shot as ever I did make. One fire,
leetle bepper, bring me down two bagients."