Farm business held me from going over to Sandtoft for many days. Much
of our land was too rich for the growing of corn--which was apt to
spoil on the ground by its own rankness--and was sown with line year
after year. This season it fell to my lot to meet the merchants, who
came to buy our standing crops, and to show them hospitality. Having
occasion to go to Crowle on this business, bargains concluded, I paid
my respects to my relatives at the vicarage, little thinking of the
reward awaiting my dutiful behaviour. As I entered the door, I heard
my aunt cry out, "Frank! I know your step. Come this way." The voice
came from the store-room, where I found the notable housewife, among
the tubs and jars and boxes, from which she had so often produced
dainty cakes and preserved fruits for the delight of my juvenile palate.
"At last you have remembered that you have an aunt!" said she, lifting
her face to me. "I am busy now, but I will talk to you after dinner.
I have company to-day."
"What company?" I asked.
"People you know, Mistress Goel and her father. What is there in that
to make you open your eyes so wide?"
"I did not know of your acquaintance with them, that is all."
My aunt gave me to understand that the vicar had visited the strangers
when they lodged at the White Hart, and invited them to the vicarage.
She herself had taken a violent fondness for the daughter, and for the
father a superb contempt.
"The man's daft, or he would not bring a girl to live in a hole like
Sandtoft, where there is no other woman except her maid and the wives
of mechanics and labourers, and the men are all boors and savages. The
only excuse for such barbarity is that the man has lost his wits. But
there's a Providence above, and the poor, dear child will have her
recompense. There's a coronet at her feet, or soon will be."
"God in heaven! You cannot mean that you favour that beast, Sheffield!"
"No profane language here, Frank. Lord Sheffield is a changed man."
Nothing could exceed my aunt's complacency as she gave me this
assurance.
"Has he made proposal of marriage?" I asked.
"Not directly as yet; but he is quite open with me," and the good woman
smiled loftily.
"Then he comes here?"
"He has been several times to hear your uncle discourse, who is
satisfied that a work of grace has begun in his lordship's soul. But,
bless me! I shall be late with dinner." And she began to bustle among
her stores.
"When do your guests arrive?" I asked.
"They have been here since the day before yesterday. You will find
them in the garden." So saying, she hurried off to the kitchen.
What Sheffield's game might be, I could not guess; but that he had some
evil design in professing to be edified by the homilies of the simple
clergyman, and in flattering his still simpler wife, there could be no
doubt whatever.
The sight of Mistress Goel in a chair on the grass-plot under the shade
of an old pear-tree drove away my gloomy surmisings. She rose to greet
me in her pretty way of formal courtesy, and when she resumed her seat,
I threw myself on the grass near her, and found her bright face
lovelier than ever when looked at from that position.
"How long it is since I saw you!" said I. "I have been full of
business which I might not leave, or I should have been to Sandtoft ere
this."
"It is well that you have not," she answered. "Our men are furious.
Almost every night a machine is broken, or something is stolen, or an
attempt to fire the buildings is made. Four days ago, a barge came
down the river too late to be unladen, and the man who kept watch on
board was seized, gagged, and bound, and the boat was scuttled, with
the man in it. It was done with such stealth that our men knew nothing
of it until morning, although the sentinels had been at their posts all
through the night."
"But I have nothing to do with midnight marauders," I growled.
"Our men do not know that. They have heard that you are one of the
instigators of these doings."
"Is not my--my acquaintance with you a warrant that I am not an enemy?"
"No. I am sorry to confess that our acquaintance leads to our being
suspected rather than to your absolution."
"Good heavens! Our Islonians have not a monopoly of barbarism, it
would seem."
"Remember that our men are strangers in a strange land. They are
plundered, harassed, threatened. Some of their comrades have been
killed. The night attacks are so skilfully made as to lead them to
think there must be a traitor within the camp. My father is in the
habit of walking and watching late o' nights, and I have talked with
one of the enemy. Most unhappily, Vermuijden is away, and it is
uncertain when he will return. I was glad indeed to leave the
settlement for a few days, and you will be wise not to come over at
present."
"I have no inducement to visit the settlement while you are at the
vicarage, which is a much more fitting abode for you than a hut at
Sandtoft."
"So Mrs. Graves will have it, and in her kindness would detain me here
I know not how long; but my place is with my father, and he is by
agreement physician to the settlers. You are not to think that my
father brought me thoughtlessly to Sandtoft."
How beautiful she looked as she bent forward, her face aglow with love
and pride!
"He is not so much absorbed in science as to forget his care for his
daughter. Oh no, indeed! He would have had me stay in Leyden, when he
fled. He entreated, almost commanded me to go to the care of friends
in Amsterdam, when he left Paris, and to remain there until he had a
suitable home for me in England. But what is home? Do masons and
carpenters make it? For me, it is where my father lives. My mother
died in my seventh year, and my father did his utmost to make up my
loss. His grief made him an old man before his time: his days were
filled with labour, and the most learned and polished society in Europe
made claim on his leisure, but nothing was allowed to interfere with
his tender care of his little daughter. He continued his great love
for his wife in his love for her motherless child. Pardon me that I
say all this, but I could not bear that you should misconstrue my
father."
I forgot to answer, looking up with pure delight into the beaming eyes.
Surely, she cared something for me, unworthy as I was, since she wished
that I should respect her father as he deserved. At length I replied
softly--
"I count it great honour that you have told me."
But my new reverence for Doctor Goel was instantly in danger, for he
came up to us, a cabbage-leaf in one hand and his magnifying-glass in
the other, and pointed out something to his daughter in great
excitement. He turned to me while she looked, and plunged into
English, of which I reproduce the sense, not the exact words--
"Your great Bacon thought that caterpillars were engendered of dew and
leaves by putrefaction. But it is not so. They come from eggs, laid
by the butterfly. It is one more instance to confirm the theory that
every living thing derives its being from a parent."
And the old gentleman rubbed his hands and smiled, as if he had found a
diamond. 'Twas all I could do to refrain from laughing at this ado
about some tiny caterpillars on a cabbage-leaf, but Mistress Goel
seemed to enter into her father's pleasure, and, to my astonishment,
said something to him in Latin, as if quoting a book, to which he
replied by a long sentence in the same language. Then he returned to
the harness-room, taking his precious cabbage-leaf with him.
Happily, the clang of the dinner-bell called us into the house, and
saved me from uttering my opinion on the value of studying grubs.
After dinner, during which nothing was said which needs record here,
the vicar withdrew to his study, the doctor to the harness-room, where
he smoked his pipe, my aunt to her room for her customary nap, so
Mistress Goel and I strolled round the garden. Somehow, I was led on
to talk of myself, a topic on which I was fluent, not to say vapouring.
I confided to the lady the dubious state of the Vavasour fortunes, and
spoke of retrieving them by the sword. I more than half hinted at my
father's project for the relief of our estate, and of difference
between him and me on that account. In fine, I was autobiographical,
sentimental, braggart. The patient hearing, the gentle glance, the
sweet smile on my companion's lips lured me on to talk as I had never
talked before. Little did I dream that I was pouring out my boyish
crudities to one of the most accomplished women of the Netherlands, the
bosom friend of Tesselschade Visscher, a distinguished member of the
brilliant circle who made the Visscher _salon_ famous throughout
Europe. Happy in my ignorance, young bumpkin that I was, I babbled on,
and she listened and answered as simply as any rustic damsel. I longed
to tell her how I loved her, but held myself in check, remembering that
I might be disinherited to-morrow, and what a poor heritage at best
mine was like to be. Longed! I ached with longing. And when I
thought of Sheffield, it was as though my head and heart would burst,
so full I was with jealousy and rage. What I might have said, if we
had been left alone awhile longer, I do not know, but my aunt came out
to join us, and she stuck like a leech. I sauntered to the
harness-room, where the doctor sat, smoking his pipe, and fell into
talk with him. His English improved as we conversed, and I got the
notion that he had once used the tongue with freedom. He asked
questions about our farming, the trees and herbs in the fenny soil, the
birds and beasts of our woods and marshes. He told me curious things
of the weeds spread upon a rough table before him--some too marvellous
for belief, but I kept my countenance. He had been seeking glow-worms,
and I told him where they were to be found. I asked him questions
concerning some things which had puzzled me, and received answers full
and plain. He grew very friendly, and our talk lasted until
supper-time.
That supper would have been a right pleasant meal but for one thing.
The room was gay with vine-leaves, green boughs, and bunches of roses
in jars and vases. Never had I seen it so gracefully decked, and I
knew whose handiwork it was. My aunt had skill in providing, as the
table bore witness, set out with well-cooked poultry, tench, salmon,
plovers' eggs, dainty tarts, and amber-coloured ale and French and
Spanish wine, but the adornment of the table and the room was new and
strange. When the doctor and I entered the room, "my Lord Arrogance"
stood at the other end, bending reverentially to listen to the vicar's
talk, He made his bow to the doctor, and we took our seats--Sheffield
at Mrs. Graves' right hand, Mistress Goel next him, the doctor and I on
the other side of the table.
Sheffield talked with the Goels of Brederoo's _Farce of the Cow_, and
of some tragedy by Vondel. He applauded the genius and enterprise of
Doctor Samuel Coster, and praised to the skies the Sisters Roemer
Visscher. It was in listening to this conversation that I discovered
how intimate Mistress Goel was with those learned and beautiful ladies.
The playwrights and poets of Amsterdam and Leyden were quite unknown to
me, and to the vicar and my aunt; but Sheffield contrived to interest
Mrs. Graves by condescending to explain to her, and appealing to her
taste and judgment, and he pleased his host by a sentence now and then
in which he implied that these topics were far beneath the altitude of
his sacred learning. I imagined that Sheffield designed to expose my
clownish ignorance in contrast with his knowledge of the literature of
the Netherlands; but his evident anxiety to keep the direction of the
conversation in his own hands, and an exchange of glances between
father and daughter, as if some remark of his tickled them to the point
of laughter, made me aware that his lordship did but repeat a lesson
with which he had been stuffed for the occasion. In a little time he
had taken a good deal of wine, and then he did me the honour to become
aware of my presence.
"I' faith," said he, "'tis uncourteous to Vavasour to talk only of
divine poesy. Does line fetch a good price this year?"
The inquiry was addressed to me, but before I could answer, Mistress
Goel shot me a question--
"What did you say was the motto of Sir William Vavasour?"
I had said nothing of a motto peculiar to this ancestor of mine, and
could not at once see the drift of the query. Then I perceived that it
was meant to stay the anger which had sent the hot blood into my face,
and I answered her with the first jingle I could remember.
Soon after sunset thick clouds gathered, cutting short the twilight,
and candles were brought in. Then my aunt prayed Mistress Goel to
sing, and I learned what ineffable delight may be in music, for the
singer had the art-concealing art, and sang as the thrushes and
nightingales do. The old spinet became another instrument under the
touch of her fingers. I sat entranced, listening to song after song,
watching the singing with devouring eyes. To my wonder the songs were
chiefly English, and some of them the simple ballads dear to
peasant-folk. By-and-by Mrs. Graves asked for "that Spanish duetto,"
which she had heard Sheffield sing with her guest, and he condescended
to gratify her. 'Twas a concert of crow and nightingale, but the
fellow tugged at his collar, and stuck up his chin, and wriggled about,
as if his performance had been the finest in the world.
During the last hour the low rumble of distant thunder had been heard,
and just as the Spanish song ended, there came a flash of lightning,
and a tremendous peal of thunder immediately followed, loud enough to
be the crack of doom. My aunt began a great fuss about having no bed
to offer me, and the necessity of my going home before the storm grew
worse, and I was in a manner forced out of the house. So I made my
adieux, promising the doctor some glow-worms in a day or two. As I
bade Mistress Goel good night I thought her little hand trembled, and
there was a look in the brown eyes which I chose to interpret as
concern for my safety.
On first setting off, Trueboy was uneasy, the lightning becoming
frequent and the thunder almost continuous, but a firm rein and a
little soothing brought him to composure.
I have never seen lightning more splendid. At every flash a fire
seemed to run along the ground before me, and the water on either side
glared redly, while quite distant trees showed, or appeared to show,
their every leaf. Near Hirst Priory, some cattle and horses, which had
leaped the fences in their panic, were scampering to and fro on the
causey like mad creatures, running great risk of bogging themselves in
the swampy margins of the road. It would have been unneighbourly to
pass on and leave Farmer Brewer's bestial to their fate, so I opened
the gate of the drift, and then gathered and drove all I could see into
their owner's grounds. It was slow and difficult work, the beasts
being so wild with fear, and the only light that of the flashes which
followed one another for some seconds without intermission, the
succeeding darkness bringing me to a stand; but at length it was done.
Then I battered and bawled at the door of the hind's cottage. He
opened after some minutes, and stood quaking and shaking like a man in
an ague-fit.
"O Lord! Be it you, Master Frank? I thought it was the devil come to
fetch me. The Almighty's terrible angry, for sure."
I bade the man stick some bushes on the gate and the fences near,
remaining to see that he obeyed, bantering him the while on his
ridiculous fear that his sins had put the elements into such commotion.
When he had finished the job, I rode slowly on, pondering a fact which
I had noted in collecting the cattle, namely, that the waters of the
marsh had risen, and encroached on the causeway here and there,
although no rain had yet fallen. All at once, Trueboy started off at a
great pace, and I became aware of hoof-beats behind me. I pulled him
up, and he capered about a bit, for he was never willing to be passed
on the road.
"Out of the way, there," shouted a voice, which I recognised as
Sheffield's.
I turned in the saddle, and asked, "Is my lord so drunk as to need all
the breadth of the causey?"
"Oh, it is you!" answered Sheffield. "You might as well have staid to
see my leman give me the parting kiss, hanging on my neck, pressing her
sweet lips to mine."
By this time we were riding side by side.
"Liar!" said I, and dealt him a blow across the face with my whip.
I drew rein, expecting that he would take instant revenge with sword or
pistol, and ready enough for the encounter, though I had no weapon but
the one I had used. But he did not strike. He said something which I
could not understand, and I felt a crashing blow on the head. I
remember thinking I had been struck by lightning. The next thing I
knew was that I lay on the causey, dizzy and sick. By degrees, I found
that my clothing was drenched, and supposed that the rain had come and
soaked me while I lay unconscious. Then I perceived that Brewer's hind
was stooping over me, and that he was dripping wet. Shortly
afterwards, I came fully to myself, and heard the man's account of what
had befallen me. Briefly, it was this: he had lingered at the gate a
minute or two after I rode away, and saw two horsemen follow me.
Thinking they might be highwaymen, he had plucked up courage to run
after them, and came near enough to recognise by a flash that one of
the men was Sheffield's gigantic black servant. Supposing me to be in
no danger from him or his master, the man had turned toward his cottage
again, when he heard a great splash, and a succession of lightning
gleams showed him two men riding off, and my horse riderless. He
hurried up, and found Trueboy, up to the chest in the water, trembling.
The fellow had the wit to guess that the horse was trying to reach his
master, so he waded cautiously forward, and found me lying two feet
below the surface. My enemy had shown readiness and cleverness,
assuredly. But for the presence of the one spectator, I should have
drowned quietly, and it would have been supposed that the death was
accidental.
"Now, Stubbs," said I, "you have made me your friend and debtor for
life; but you must remember that if you say a word of this matter, you
will make another sort of debtor, who will pay you quickly."
Stubbs vowed perpetual silence, and we parted, I to ride home, feeling
extremely queer. The lightning still flashed, but at longer intervals,
and before I had gone a hundred yards, there came a gust which tossed
upward the tree branches and beat down the reeds, and the rain fell in
streams. That was no matter to me, for I was as wet as man could be,
but Trueboy misliked it, so the rest of our way we flew.