COLONEL STANBURNE APOLOGIZES.
The next day Lieutenant Ogden appeared not on the parade-ground at
Sootythorn. Captain Stanburne commanded his own company for the first
time since his accident (his cure having been wonderfully advanced by
the departure of Miss Stedman from Arkwright Lodge); and during one of
the short intervals of repose which break the tedium of drill, he went
to pay his respects to the Colonel, who was engaged in conversation with
the Adjutant on a bit of elevated ground, whilst Fyser promenaded his
war-horse to and fro.
Colonel Stanburne, who was ignorant of the cause to which he owed the
rapid recovery of his young friend, heartily congratulated him, and then
said, "But where is Ogden? what's Ogden doing? Why didn't he come to the
parade-ground to join the grenadier company again? Is he taking a day's
holiday with those pretty girls at Arkwright Lodge?"
"Mr. Ogden begs to be excused from attending drill to-day. I have a note
from him." And Captain Stanburne handed the letter to the Colonel.
As soon as John Stanburne had read the letter he looked very grave, or
rather very much put out, and made an ejaculation. The ejaculation was
"Damn it!" Then he folded the letter again, and put it in his
pocket-book.
"Have you had any conversation with Mr. Ogden on the subject of this
letter?" Captain Stanburne knew nothing about it.
The Colonel made a signal for Fyser, and mounted his horse. Fyser
mounted another, and followed his master. The senior Major was telling
humorous anecdotes to a group of captains, and the Colonel went straight
to him at a canter. He told him to command the regiment in his absence,
entering into some details about what was to be done--details which
puzzled the Major exceedingly, for he knew nothing whatever about
battalion drill, or any drill, though in some former state of existence
he had been an ornamental officer in the Guards. This done, the Colonel
galloped off the field.
The letter which had caused this sudden departure was as follows:--
"SIR,--As you have thought fit to play a practical joke
upon my mother, I send in my resignation.
"Your obedient servant, ISAAC OGDEN."
There was no hesitation about the Colonel's movements; he rode straight
to Whittlecup as fast as his horse could carry him. He went first to the
Blue Bell, where he found a guide to Mrs. Ogden's lodging over the
shoemaker's shop. In answer to his inquiries, the shoemaker's wife
admitted that all her lodgers were at home, but--but--in short, they
were "getting their breakfast." The Colonel said his business was
urgent--that he must see the Lieutenant, and Mrs. Ogden too--so Mrs.
Wood guided him up the narrow stairs.
We may confess for John Stanburne that he had not much of that courage
which rejoices in verbal encounters, or if he had, it was of that kind
which dares to do what the man is constitutionally most afraid to do.
The reader may remember an anecdote of another English officer, who, as
he went into battle, betrayed the external signs of fear, and in reply
to a young subaltern, who had the impudence to taunt him, said, "Yes, I
_am_ afraid, and if you were as much afraid as I am, you would run
away." Yet, by the strength of his will, he conducted himself like a
true soldier. And there is that other stirring anecdote about a French
commander, who, when his body trembled at the opening of a battle, thus
apostrophized it: "Tu trembles, vile carcasse! tu tremblerais bien plus
si tu savais où je vais te mener!" If these men were cowards, John
Stanburne was a coward too, for he mortally dreaded this encounter with
the Ogdens; but if they were not cowards (having will enough to
neutralize that defect of nature), neither was John Stanburne.
Lieutenant Ogden rose from his seat, and bowed rather stiffly as the
Colonel entered. Mrs. Ogden made a just perceptible inclination of the
head, and conveyed to her mouth a spoonful of boiled egg, which she had
just dipped in the salt.
"I beg pardon," said the Colonel, "for intruding upon you during
breakfast time, but--but I was anxious"--The moment of hesitation which
followed was at once taken advantage of by Mrs. Ogden.
"And is that all you've come to beg pardon for?"
This thrust put the Colonel more on his defence than a pleasanter
reception would have done. He had intended to offer nothing but a very
polite apology; but as there seemed to be a disposition on the part of
the enemy to extort concessions so as to deprive them of the grace of
being voluntary, he withdrew into his own retrenchments.
"I came to ask Mr. Ogden for an explanation about his letter of this
morning."
"I should think you need no explanations, Colonel Stanburne. You know
what passed yesterday evening."
"He knows that well enough," said Mrs. Ogden.
"I should be glad if Lieutenant Ogden would tell me in detail what he
thinks that he has to complain of."
"Leaftenant! Leaftenant! nay, there's no more leaftenantin', I reckon.
This is Isaac Ogden--plain Isaac Ogden--an' nout elz. He's given up
playin' at soldiers. He's a cotton-spinner, or he were one, nobbut his
brother an' him quarrelled; and I wish they hadn't done, many a time I
do--for our Jacob's as much as ever he can manage, now as he's buildin'
a new mill; an' if he gets wed--and there's Hiram Ratcliff's
dorther"--Mrs. Ogden might have gone very far into family matters if her
son had not perceived (or imagined that he perceived) something like a
smile on Colonel Stanburne's face. In point of fact, the Colonel did not
precisely smile; but there was a general relaxation of the muscles of
his physiognomy from their first expression of severity, betraying an
inward tendency to humor.
"Well, sir," broke in Ogden, "I'll tell you what you did, if you want
me. It seems that you've set up a new carriage, a four-in-hand, which
looks very like a mail coach, and you drove this vehicle yesterday
through the streets of Sootythorn, and you saw my mother on the
footpath, and you made a signal to her with your whip, as coachmen do,
and you allowed her to get inside under the impression that it was a
public conveyance, so that you might make a laughing-stock of her with
the officers. And"--
"Pardon me," said the Colonel, "it was not"--
"You've asked me to tell you why I sent in my resignation, and I'm
telling you. If you stop me, I shalln't begin it over again. Let me say
my say, Colonel Stanburne; you may explain it away afterwards at your
leisure, if you can. When you got into Whittlecup, and stopped at the
Blue Bell, you took my mother's money--and not only that, but you asked
for a gratuity for yourself, as driver, to make her ridiculous in the
eyes of your friends on the vehicle. I suppose, though your joke may
have been a very good one, that you will be able to understand why it is
not very pleasing to me, and why I don't choose to remain under you in
the militia."
"If the thing had occurred as you have told it"--the Colonel began, but
was instantly interrupted by Mrs. Ogden.
"Do you mean to say I didn't tell him right what happened? If anybody
knows what happened, I do."
"Let the Colonel say what he has to say, mother; don't you stop him.
I've said my say, and it's his turn now."
The Colonel told the facts as the reader knows them. "He had made no
sign to Mrs. Ogden," he said, "in the street at Sootythorn, but she had
made a sign with her parasol, which he had interpreted as a request for
a place. He had been ignorant that Fyser had kept up her illusion about
the vehicle being a public one until after the fact; and so far from
encouraging the merriment of the officers, had put a stop to it by
telling them who Mrs. Ogden was, particularly requesting that the
incident might not be made a subject of pleasantry, lest it should reach
Mr. Ogden's ears. On arriving in Whittlecup, he had taken her money, but
with the express purpose of saving her the pain of an explanation. He
had intended Mrs. Ogden to remain ignorant--happily ignorant--of her
little mistake."
"Pardon me," said Isaac Ogden; "this might have been equally well
accomplished without asking my mother for a coachman's gratuity. _That_
was done to make a fool of her, evidently; and no doubt you laughed
about it with your friends as you drove back to Sootythorn."
"Here is the only point on which I feel that I owe an apology to Mrs.
Ogden, and I very willingly make it. In every thing else I did what lay
in my power to save her from ridicule, but on this point I confess that
I did wrong. I couldn't help it. I was carried away by a foolish fancy
for acting the coachman out and out. The temptation was too strong for
me, you know. I thought I had taken the money cleverly, in the proper
professional manner, and I was tempted to ask for a gratuity. I
acknowledge that I went too far. Mrs. Ogden, I am very sorry for this."
Mrs. Ogden had been gradually softening during the Colonel's
explanation, and when it came to its close she turned to him and said,
"We've been rather too hard upon you, I think." Such an expression as
this from Mrs. Ogden was equivalent to a profuse apology. The
Lieutenant added a conciliatory little speech of his own: "I think my
mother may accept your explanation. I am willing to accept it myself."
This was not very cordial, but at any rate it was an expression of
satisfaction.
Little Jacob had hitherto been a silent and unobserved auditor of this
conversation, but it now occurred to the Colonel that he might be of
considerable use. "Mrs. Ogden," he said, "will you allow me to transfer
your eighteenpence to this young gentleman's pocket?" Mrs. Ogden
consented, and it will be believed that little Jacob on his part had no
objection. Then the Colonel drew little Jacob towards him, and began to
ask him questions--"What would he like to be?" Little Jacob said he
would like to be a coachman, as the Colonel was, and drive four horses.
The Colonel promised him a long drive on the coach.
"And may I drive the horses?"
"Well, we shall see about that. Yes, you shall drive them a little some
day." Then turning towards Mrs. Ogden, he continued,--
"Lady Helena is not at Wenderholme just now, unfortunately; she is gone
to town to her father's for a few days, so that I am a bachelor at
present, and cannot invite ladies; but if it would please little Jacob
to ride on the coach with me, I should be very glad if you would let
him. I am going to drive to Wenderholme this evening as soon as our
afternoon drill is finished, and shall return to-morrow morning. About
half-a-dozen officers are going to dine with me. Ogden, you'll dine with
me too, won't you? Do--there's a good fellow; and pray let us forget
this unlucky bit of unpleasantness. Don't come full fig--come in a
shell-jacket."
"Well, but you know, Colonel Stanburne, I've resigned my commission, and
so how can I come in a red jacket?"
This was said with an agreeable expression of countenance, intended to
imply that the resignation was no longer to be taken seriously. The
Colonel laughed. "Nonsense," he said; "you don't talk about resigning?
It isn't a time for resigning when there's such a capital chance of
promotion. Most likely you'll be a captain next training, for there's a
certain old major who finds battalion drill a mystery beyond the utmost
range of his intellect, and I don't think he'll stop very long with us,
and when he leaves us there'll be a general rise, and the senior
lieutenant, you know, will be a captain."
Mrs. Ogden's countenance began to shine with pride at these hints of
promotion. After all, he would be somebody at Shayton, would Captain
Ogden, for she was fully determined that when once he should be in
possession of the title, it should not perish for want of use.
When the Colonel rose to take his leave, Mrs. Ogden said, "Nay, nay, you
shalln't go away without drinking a glass of wine. There's both port and
sherry in the cupboard; and if you'd like something to eat--you must be
quite hungry after your ride. Why, you've 'appen never got your
breakfast?"
The Colonel confessed that he had not breakfasted. He had come away from
early drill just before his usual breakfast-hour.
"Eh, well, I wish I'd known sooner; indeed I do. The coffee's quite
cold, and there's nothing worse than cold coffee; but Mr. Wood 'll very
soon make some fresh." Colonel Stanburne was really hungry, and ate his
breakfast in a manner which gave the greatest satisfaction to Mrs.
Ogden. The more he ate the more he rose in her esteem, and at length she
could no longer restrain her feelings of approval, and said, "You _can_
eat your breakfast; it does me good to watch ye. There's many a young
man as cannot eat half as much as you do. There's our Isaac here that's
only a very poor breakfast-eater. I tell him so many a time." Indeed she
_did_ tell him so many a time--namely, about fifteen times whenever
they breakfasted together. When the Colonel had done eating, he looked
at his watch and said it was time to go. "Well, I'm very sorry you're
goin' so soon--indeed I am," said Mrs. Ogden, who, when he ceased to
eat, felt that her own pleasure was at an end. "But you _must_ drink a
glass of wine. It isn't bought at the Blue Bell at Whittlecup--it comes
from Shayton." She said this with a calm assurance that it settled the
question of the wine's merits, just as if Shayton had been the centre of
a famous wine-district. Returning to the subject of breakfast-eating,
she repeated, "Eh, I do wish our Isaac could eat his breakfast same as
you do, but he's spoiled his stomach wi' drinking." Then addressing her
son: "Isaac, I put two glasses with the decanter--why don't you fill
your glass?"
"I've given up drinking."
"Do you mean to say as you're teetotal?"
"Yes, I do, mother; I'm teetotal now."
Mrs. Ogden's face assumed an expression of extreme astonishment and
displeasure. "Well," she said, "Isaac Ogden, you're the first teetotal
as has been in our family!" and she looked at him in scorn. Then she
resumed: "If I'd known what was to come of your meeting that teetotal
clergyman--for it's him that's done it--I'd have prevented it if I
could. Turned teetotal! turned teetotal! Well, Isaac, I never could have
believed this of any son of mine!"