FRIENDS AND FOES.
In for a penny, in for a pound. Throw the helve after the hatchet. As
well to be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. He that hath the name may as
well enjoy the game.--These and other reckless maxims of our worthy
grandsires (which they may have exemplified in their own lives, but took
care for their own comfort to chastise out of their children) were cited
by Miss Christie Fox, with very bright ferocity, for her poor brother's
guidance. It was on the morning after her arrival, when she had heard
everything there was to hear, and had taken the mastery of Old Barn, as
if it were her pony-carriage. Fox stood and looked at her in this queer
old dwelling-place, which had once been the tithe-barn of the parish,
but proving too far from the chief growth of corn had been converted by
the Dean and Chapter into a rough and rambling, but commodious and roomy
house; for the tithes of Perlycross were fat, worthy of a good roof and
stout walls.
She sat by the window in the full light of the sun,--for she never
thought much about her complexion, and no sun could disparage it--a
lovely girl, with a sweet expression, though manifest knowledge of her
own mind. Her face was not set off by much variety of light and shade,
like that of Inez Waldron, dark lashes, or rich damask tint, or
contrasts of repose and warmth; but pure straightforward English beauty
(such as lasts a lifetime) left but little to be desired--except the
good luck to please it.
"There was not too much of her," as her father said--indeed he never
could have enough--and she often felt it a grievance that she could not
impress the majesty of her sentiments, through lack of size; but all
that there was of her was good stuff; and there very well may be, as a
tall admirer of hers remarked, "a great deal of love in five feet two."
However this specimen of that stature had not discovered that fact yet,
as regards any other than her own kin; and now with the sun from over
Hagdon Hill throwing wintry light into her spring-bright eyes, she was
making herself quite at home, as an English girl always tries to do,
with her own belongings about her, while she was railing at this strange
neighbourhood. Not that she meant even half of what she said, but her
spirit was up, and being always high it required no great leap to get
far above the clouds. And her brother kept saying--"now you don't mean
that," in a tone that made her do her very best to mean it.
As for avoiding the subject, and the rest of the cautious policy
suggested by the peaceful parson, the young lady met that wise proposal
with a puff of breath, and nothing more. In gestures, and what on a
plainer place would have been called "grimaces," she was so strong, that
those who had not that short-cut of nature to the meaning of the moment,
were inclined to scoff and mimic; which they could not do at all,
because it was not in them. Jemmy being some years older, and her only
brother, felt himself responsible for the worst part of her character.
He was conscious, when he thought about it, that he had spoiled her
thoroughly, from the date of her first crawl on the floor, until her
path in life was settled. And upon the whole, the result was not so bad
as to crush him with much self-reproach.
"All I want is, just to have the names of your chief enemies." This
valiant sister, as she spoke, spread forth an ivory _deltis_, as that
arrangement then was called, a baby-fan with leaves of no more substance
than a wafer. "Have no fear, Jemmy, I will not kill them, unless my
temper rises. You are so abominally forgiving, that I daresay you don't
know their names."
"Not I," said the Doctor, beginning to fill his after-breakfast pipe,
for now he had no round to make among his patients of the paying class;
"Chris, they are all alike; they have no ill-will at all against me,
unless it is Jackson, and young Webber, and half a dozen other muffs
perhaps, with a grudge because I have saved poor fellows they were
killing. I have never interfered in any rich man's case; so they have no
right to be so savage."
"They are dummies," answered Christie, just waving her hand, and then
stopping it, as if they were not worth the trouble. "I don't mean them.
They could never lead opinion. I mean people of intelligence, or at any
rate of influence."
"Well really I don't know any of that sort, who have gone against me
openly. Such people generally wait to hear both sides, unless their duty
drags them into it. Both the Churchwardens are against me, I believe.
But that must be chiefly, because they saw with their own wise eyes what
had been done. You know, or perhaps you don't, but I do, what an effect
is produced on the average mind by the sight of anything. Reason seems
to fly, and the judgment is lost. But Horner is a very decent fellow,
and I have been of some service to his family. Farrant is a man of great
honesty and sense; but carried away perhaps for the moment. I hear that
he is coming round to my side."
"Then I won't put down either of them. But come, there must be some one
at the head of it."
"Upon my word, I don't think there is. Or if there is, he keeps quite in
the background. It seems to be rather a general conclusion, than any
conspiracy against me. That makes it so much harder to contend with. One
proof of what I say is, that there has been no further application for a
warrant, since Mr. Mockham's refusal. If there were any bitter enemy, he
would never have been content with that."
"I am not so sure of that," replied sage Christie, longing for a foe
more definite; "I am not of course a lawyer, though papa was a
Magistrate before I was born, and ever since; and that gives me a great
deal of insight. And I have come to the conclusion that there is some
one, besides those poor little pill-grinders--you see what comes of
taking to the pill-box, Jemmy--some one of a hateful nature, and low
cunning, who is working in the dark against you. The mischief has been
done, and they know that; and they don't want to give you any chance of
putting your own case clearly, and confounding them. You see that reel
of silk now, don't you?"
"I see about fifty. What a child you are! Are you going to decorate a
doll's house?"
"I never lose my temper with you, dear Jemmy, because you are so stupid.
But if you can't see the force of it, I can. That reel of silk is an
honest reel, a reel you know how to deal with. The end is tucked into a
nick at the side, and you set to at once and thread your needle. But the
one next to it is a rogue--same colour, same size, same everything,
except that the maker has hidden the end, to hide his own short measure,
so that you may hunt for it for half an hour. Even a man can see that,
can't he? Very well, apply that to this frightful affair. If your
enemies would only come forward, they would give you a chance to clear
yourself. You would get hold of the end and unwind it, just as I bite
off this knot. There! What can be easier than that, I'd like to know?"
"You are very clever, Christie, but you don't see the real difficulty.
Who would believe my denial on oath, any more than they would without
it? I can offer no witness except myself. The man at the pits would
avail me nothing, even if I could get hold of him. There was plenty of
time after I left him, for me to have been in the thick of it. I can
prove no _alibi_. I have only my word, to show that I was in this house
while the miscreants were at work. It is the blackest piece of luck,
that poor George was so tipsy, and old Betty was so buried in slumber.
It is no good to deceive ourselves, my dear. I shall never be cleared of
this foul charge, till the fellows who did the thing are found out."
This was what Jemmy had felt all along; and no one knew better than
himself, how nearly impossible it is to bring such criminals to
justice. But his sister was not to be discouraged.
"Oh, as for that, I shall just do this. I have money of my own, or at
least I shall have plenty of it, when I come of age next year. I'll find
out the cleverest lawyer about here, a man who is able to enter into
rogues, and I'll make him advertise a great reward, and promise him the
same for himself, if he succeeds. That is the only way to make them look
sharp. A thousand pounds will be sure to tempt the poor dirty villains
who must have been employed; and a thousand pounds will tempt a good
lawyer to sell his own wife and family. Free pardon to every one, except
the instigator. I wonder that you never even thought of that."
"I did think of it long ago. It is the first thing that occurs to an
Englishman, in any case of wrong-doing. But it would be useless here. I
heard much of these cases when I was a student. They are far more
frequent than the outer world supposes. But I won't talk about it. It
would only make you nervous. It is not a thing for girls to dwell upon."
"I know that very well. I don't want to dwell upon it. Only tell me, why
even a large reward would not be of any service."
"Because there is only a very small gang; and a traitor would never live
to get his money. Rewards have been tried, but vainly, except in one
case, and then the end was dreadful. For the most part, the villains
manage so well that no one ever dreams of what has happened. In the
present case, though a most daring one, the villainy would scarcely have
been discovered, except for the poor little faithful dog. If she had
been killed and thrown into the river, perhaps nothing would ever have
been heard of it."
"Oh, Jemmy, what a dreadful thing to say! But surely you forget the
blacksmith?"
"Not at all. His story would have come to nothing, without this to give
it special meaning. Even as it is, no connexion has been proved, though
of course there is a strong presumption, between the affair at Susscot,
and the crime at Perlycross. There was nothing to show where the cart
came from. Those fellows travel miles with them, these long nights.
There is an old chapelyard at Monkswell, more than a mile from any
house, and I firmly believe--but I will not talk about it."
"Then you know who did this! Oh, Jemmy, Jemmy, is it some horrible
secret of your trade?" Christie leaped up, and away from her brother.
"I know nothing, except that it happened. I have not the least idea who
the scoundrel is. Now no more of this--or you won't sleep to-night."
"I am not a coward--for a girl at least. But this is a dark and lonely
house. I shall have my bed put against the partition of your room,
before ever I go into it this night. Then you can hear me knock, if I
get frightened."
Miss Fox sat down, and leaned her head upon her hands for a moment, as
in deep meditation upon the wrongs of humanity; and then she announced
the result of her thoughts.
"One thing is certain. Even you cannot deny it. If the Government of
this Country allows such frightful things to be done, it is bound to
provide every woman in the land with a husband to protect her, or at any
rate to keep her courage up. If I had seen that cart at Susscot, I
should have died with terror."
"Not you. But I must make one rule, I see; and you know there are times
when I will be obeyed. You have come here, my dear child, with the
greatest kindness, and no small courage as well, just to keep up my
spirits, and console me in this trouble. I would never have let you
come, if I had known it; and now I will not have your health endangered.
Back you go, this very day, sad as I shall be without you, unless you
promise me two things. One is that you will avoid these subjects,
although you may talk of my position. And the other is, that you will
not stir from this house, except in my company; and when you are with
me, you will be totally unconscious of anything anybody says, or
looks,--uncivil, unpleasant, or even uncordial. You understand now, that
I am in earnest."
Fox struck his solid legs into a stiff position, and crested up his
whiskers with his finger-tips; which action makes a very fine impression
on a young man's younger sister.
"Very well, I agree to all of that;" said Christie, a little too airily
for one who is impressed with an engagement. "But one thing I must have,
before we begin the new code. Here are my tablets. As you won't tell the
names of your enemies, Jemmy, I must have the names of your friends to
set down. It won't require many lines, I fear, you gentle Jemmy."
"Won't it? Why all the good people about here are on my side, every one
of them. First, and best of them all, Philip Penniloe. And then, Mr.
Mockham the Magistrate, and then Sergeant Jakes, the schoolmaster. And
after him, Thyatira Muggridge, a person of considerable influence,
because she takes hot meat, or pudding, in a basin, to half the old
women in the village, whenever her master can afford it, and can't get
through all of it. That is how they put it, in their grateful way. But
it strengthens their tongues against his enemies, and they seem to know
them--though he doesn't. Well, then there is Farrant, the junior
Churchwarden, coming round fast to my side. And Baker, the cooper, who
made me a tub for salting my last pig; and Channing--not the clerk, he
is neutral still, but will rally to my side when I pay him twelve
shillings, as I shall do to-morrow, for a pair of corduroys--but
Channing the baker, a notable man, with a wife who knows everything
about it, because she saw a dark man over the wall last summer, and he
would not give his name. She has caused a reaction already, and is
confident of being right, because she got upon a pair of steps. Oh you
must not imagine that I am forlorn. And then there is Frank Gilham, last
not least, a fine young fellow, and a thorough Englishman."
"I like that description. I hate foreigners--as a rule I mean of
course," said Christie Fox, with a look of large candour, that proved
what a woman of the world she was; "there may be good individuals among
them, when they have come to know what home-life means; but take them
altogether, they are really very queer. But surely we ought to know a
little more, as to what it was Mrs. Baker Channing saw; and over the
Churchyard wall, you say."
"Waste of time, Christie. Why it was back in August, when Harrison
Gowler was staying here. And it was not the Churchyard wall at all, but
the wall of the rectory garden, that she peeped over in the dark. It
can have had nothing to do with it."
"I am not so sure of that. Things come out so oddly. You remember when
my poor _Flo_ was poisoned, how I found it out at last. I never left
off. I wouldn't leave off. Prying, listening, tip-toeing, even spying,
without any sense of shame. And I found it out at last--at last; and
didn't I have my revenge? Oh, I would have hanged that woman, if the law
had been worth a farthing, and stuck her all over with needles and
pins."
"You spiteful, and meanly vindictive little creature! But you never
found it out by yourself, after all. It came out quite by accident."
"Well, and so will this. You take my word. I dare say I am stupid, but I
always prove right. Yet we are bound to use the means of grace, as they
tell us in every blessed sermon. Oh come, I may go and see your pet
parson. I'll be bound, I shall not care for him, an atom of an atom. I
hate those perfect people; they are such a slur upon one. I like a good
minister, who rides to hounds in pink, and apologises to the ladies,
every time he swears. But, come, brother Jemmy, are there no more
friends? I have put down all you mentioned, and the list looks very
short. There must be a few more, for the sake of Christianity."
"To be sure, there is one more, and a frightfully zealous one--certain
to do more harm than good. A mere boy, though he flies into a fury at
the word. Mr. Penniloe's new pupil--preparing for the church, by tearing
all across the country. He breaks down all the hedges, and he drives the
sheep-dogs mad. He is mad as a March-hare himself, by all accounts; but
everybody likes him. His name is Horatio Peckover, but everybody calls
him 'Hopper,' by _syncope_, as we used to say at school. One of his
fellow-pupils, young Pike, who is a very steady-going young fellow, and
a fine rising fisherman, told me that Hopper is double-jointed; and they
believe it devoutly. They tied him on a chair at his own request, the
other day, in order that he might learn his lessons. But that only made
him worse than ever; for he capered round the room, chair and all, until
Mr. Penniloe sent to ask who was churning butter."
"What a blessing that boy must be in a sick house! But what has made
him take up our case, Jemmy?"
"The demand of his nature for violent motion. Every day of his life,
except Sunday, he scours the country for miles around. On foot,
mind--not on horseback, which one could understand. Moreover, he is hot
in my favour, because he comes from somewhere near Wincaunton, and is a
red hot 'Zon ov' Zummerzet,' and contemptuous of Devon. But it is not
for me to enquire into motives. I shall want every single friend I can
scrape together, if what I heard, this morning is anything like true.
You asked me last night, what Lady Waldron thought."
"To be sure, I did. It seemed most important. But now," continued
Christie, as she watched her brother's face, "there are reasons why I
should scarcely attach so much weight to her opinion."
"The chief reason being that you see it is against me. Well, truly, you
are a brave reasoner, my dear. But I fear that it is so. I am told that
my name must never again be heard in the house, where once I was so
welcome."
"Oh, I am rather glad of that. That will go a long way in our favour. I
cannot tell how many times I have heard not from one, but from all who
have met her, that she is a most unpleasant haughty person, even for a
foreigner. It must lie very heavy on the poor woman's conscience, that
everybody says she helped, by her nasty nature to shorten her poor
husband's days. Possibly now--well, that throws a new light. What has
happened may very well have been done at the order of some of his
relatives, who knowing her character suspect foul play. And of course
she would like to hear no more about it. You know all those foreigners,
how pat they are with poison."
"What a grand thing it is to have a sister!" Fox exclaimed, looking with
astonishment at Christie, who was quite excited with her new idea.
"Better almost to have a sister than--than--I mean than any one else. I
almost feared to tell you my last piece of news, because I thought that
it must upset you so. And behold, it has greatly encouraged you! But
remember, on no account must you drop a hint, even to our best friends,
of your last brilliant idea. What frightful things flow into the
sweetest little head!"
"Well, I don't see at all, why I should try to conceal it. I think it
is a case for very grave suspicions. And if she spreads shameful reports
about you, I'll soon let her know that two can play at that."
"Nonsense, my dear child. There is evidence against me. None, nor even a
shadow of suspicion, against her. She loved Sir Thomas devotedly; and I
always thought that jealousy was the cause of her coldness to his
English friends. But to come to common sense again--what I heard to-day
settles my doubts as to what I should do. Penniloe thought that I should
call at Walderscourt; though he saw what a difficult thing it was to do,
and rather referred it to my own decision. I shrank from it, more than I
can describe. In fact, I could not bring myself to go; not for my own
sake but for theirs. But this behaviour on her part puts a new aspect
upon it. I feel myself bound, as an innocent man, to face her; however
unpleasant it may be. It will only be the worse, for putting off. I
shall go, this afternoon."
"I love to bring anything to a point. You are quite right;" replied
Christie, with her bright colour rising, at the prospect of a brush;
"Jemmy dear, let me come with you."
"Not quite, you gallant Chris! No such luck for me. Not that I want you
to back me up. But still it would have been a comfort. But you know it
is out of the question, for a stranger to call, at such a time.
"Well, I fear it is. Though I shouldn't mind that. But it would look
very odd for you. Never mind; I won't be far away. You can leave me
outside, and I will wait for you, somewhere in the shrubbery, if there
is one. Not that I would dream of keeping out of sight. Only that they
might be afraid to see me."
"They might reasonably fear it, if you looked as you do now. Ferocity
does not improve the quality of your smile, dear. What will mother say,
when you go home? And somebody else perhaps? Now, you need not blush. I
have a very high opinion of him."
"Jemmy, I won't have it. Not another word! Get it out of your silly mind
for ever. Men never understand such things. There's no romance in me, as
Goodness knows. But you'll never catch me marrying a man with none of
it in him."
"You are too young to think of such things yet. Though sometimes even
younger girls--but come along, let us have a breath of fresh air, after
all this melancholy talk. That footpath will take us up to Hagdon in ten
minutes. You are eager to try our Old-Barn style of victualling, and it
suits the system better than your long late dinners. We dine at two
o'clock. Come and get an appetite."
A short sharp climb, and with their lungs expanded, they stood upon the
breezy hill, and looked back at the valley. Before them rolled the sweep
of upland, black in some places with bights of fired furze; but streaked
with long alleys of tender green, where the flames had not fed, or the
rains had wept them off. The soft western air, though the winter had
held speech with it, kept enough of good will yet, to be a pleasant
change for those who found their fellow-creatures easterly. And more
than that, the solemn distance, and expanse of trackless grey, hovering
with slow wings of sleepy vapour touched with sunshine, if there was no
comfort in them, yet spread some enlargement. These things breathed a
softer breath, as nature must (though it be unfelt) on young
imaginations fluttering, like a wisp of brambled wool, in the
bridle-paths, and stray sheep-walks of human trouble.