A TULIP BLOOM.
ALL Leatherheadians used to admit, and could show good reason for doing
so, that my great-aunt Parslow was the cleverest woman, as well as the
most respectable in the place. But even her abilities were hardly taxed
to find in my friend Sam Henderson any large amount of that element of
shyness, with which she had endowed him through the window. His merits
were rather inclined to dispense with any bridal veil of modesty, and
his charms never mantled themselves in moss, as the coy rose attracts
by retiring. But I was pleased to find that he behaved much better than
any of his best friends could have hoped; for he dropped all slang, and
soared into lofty places among much more nobility than I had ever heard
of. And I wondered a little at my aunt’s familiarity with all the great
names he was so friendly with; for she never said “No,” but nodded
intimately, whenever he presumed that she knew the Earl of something,
or even the Duke of anything. I could not resist the conclusion that
the Parslows had been in the peerage, and lost it; probably through
excess of greatness, and consequent peril to the throne itself.
When Sam had told scandals enough of great people, to keep all Ludred
in a ferment for a month—though I noticed with surprise his delicacy
and deference to the fact (if to no other) that he was speaking in the
presence of a maiden lady—he played another card, even more effective;
he asked, as the very greatest favour he could think of, the honour
of an introduction to the noblest circle of dogs now existing in the
kingdom.
“Perhaps you will regret it, Mr. Henderson,” Aunt Parslow replied, with
a smile and a blush, for she had a very pretty colour still, which
had varied with some of his narratives. “My dogs are perfect little
wizards and witches. They took to my nephew, because he is a Parslow,
and perhaps because he is so innocent. But you have seen so much of the
world—”
“Yet kept myself quite untainted by it.” He spoke with such gravity
that I was obliged to turn away. “Next to the society of accomplished
ladies, I enjoy that of horses, and of thorough-bred dogs. With a
very long interval between, of course. But I scarcely ever meet an
accomplished lady. What a lucky mark I must put to this day! Oh, if I
could only show you my little Tim! He can stand on his tail, and sing
‘Rule Britannia,’ and beat time with all his four legs in the air. But
compared to your dogs he is nothing but a cur! What beauties! Why, Miss
Parslow, I will never trust my eyes again.”
“Yes, they are very pretty, and as good as any children, or a great
deal better, I might say. _Jupiter_, don’t growl, sir. _Cleopatra_,
take your teeth out of Mr. Henderson’s boot. _Vulcan_, and _Venus_, and
_Mercury_—oh dear!”
At a signal from _Jupiter_, the ancient pug, all the pets had made
a rush at the bewildered Sam, and a chorus of yells arose as he was
obliged, in self-defence, to kick at them. Then they rallied in a
body round the corner of the side-board, snarling and showing their
little white teeth, with their bristles erect and their eyes full of
fire, bravely encouraging one another for a still fiercer charge at
the stranger. And he would have had the worst of it, or killed some of
the tiny ones, if I had not spied a light whip in the lobby, and given
Master _Jupiter_ a crack on his fat sides, which made him bolt with a
howl, and all his army followed suit.
“Oh, how shall I punish them? Do forgive me. I never knew them do such
a thing before. And I thought them such excellent judges of character!
How could I imagine that they would ever fly at you! And they have
pulled down the cloth, and broken two decanters that belonged to my
dear mother. But that is nothing, Mr. Henderson, compared with the
shocking fright they have given you. How can I ever thank you for not
killing them?”
Then Henderson, with the skill of Hannibal, turned his defeat into
victory. “What plucky little chaps they are!” he said; “I did all I
could to put them in a rage, on purpose to test their breeding. Perhaps
you saw me flash this pin at them. If anything drives a small dog wild,
it is to catch him in the eyes with a large carbuncle. But I got the
worst of it, and serve me right. I only hope I may not have hurt any of
the darlings.”
“You are magnanimity itself, my dear sir;” Aunt Parslow glanced shyly
at his very good trousers, which would never be quite so good again;
“the main point is whether you are hurt. Even a very little dog, you
know—.”
“Miss Parslow, a dog, unless really rabid, is not a quarter so venomous
as a cat. If I had been attacked like that by cats, I could not have
dared to show a bit of mercy, even if they had been prime favourites of
yours.”
“Oh, I cannot bear cats. I am so glad you draw that most just
distinction. Dogs are so noble and generous, so candid and loving,
and chivalrous. They showed that, even when they did their best to
bite you. But a cat is so stealthy, and crawling, and crafty, and I
might even say bloodthirsty. Next to my dogs, I love my birds, the
dear little things that come and sing, even in the—not by any means
an elegant expression—of winter. Not a robin could live here, until I
had my doggies. But that sounds like the front-door bell! Kit, would
you oblige me by just seeing who it is? Jenny and Biddy are engaged,
I know. What a very strange thing, if it should be Miss Chalker! Of
course, you never heard of our belle Chalker, Mr. Henderson.”
“Madam, it appears to me that you are all belles here.” Sam bowed as he
spoke, and contrived to convey me a wink as I left the room, which told
me that the very strange thing had been brought to pass by post, or
possibly by telegram.
When I opened the door, I saw a very pretty girl, but no more to be
compared with my darling Kitty, than a tulip with a lily of the valley.
Although it was close upon winter now, she had a striped parasol, which
I detest; and her velvet hat (turned down over one ear, and turned up
at the other) had two kingfisher’s wings stuck crosswise, and between
them a gorgeous topaz humming-bird. You might look at my Kitty fifty
times; and if any one asked you how she was dressed, you would have to
say, “I have not the least idea,” if you happened not to be a woman.
But this young lady’s attire compelled attention, and perhaps deserved
it.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said very nicely, and giving me a smile
which made two dimples; “but I thought that Miss Parslow might he
disengaged. I thought I would look in, as I was going down the town.
But I will not intrude, if she has visitors.”
She made some difficulty about coming in, as if she were not bent
upon doing so; but I told her, with a look, which she feigned not to
understand, that I should never be forgiven if I allowed her to depart.
Then the lady of the house came out, and brought her in, and introduced
her to both visitors. “Oh, I know Mr. Henderson, a great friend of my
father’s; I am so glad that he knows you, Aunt Parslow. I am sure he
admires your lovely view.”
Now, this was not exactly to my liking. What right had she to call my
Aunt Parslow hers? If I ever met any one free from petty jealousy, I
believe it is the one I see while shaving. But ever since Sam Henderson
came in at my aunt’s door, I, who had been getting on so well till
then, seemed to be no better than a nobody. He had made himself the
hero of the hour, and played first fiddle, and forced his way into her
best graces, by working on her vanity, and social yearnings, and family
pride, till I quite expected that he would declare himself to be a
Parslow, and entitled to the silver teapot. And now here was this girl,
who had made up her mind, as I could see plainly, to be Mrs. Sam ere
long, daring to address my wealthy relative as her own Aunt Parslow!
“Kit, you don’t look very well,” said the lady of the house, after
much chatter had been indulged in; “a little change will do you good
perhaps. I suppose you are always up an apple-tree at home. Would you
like to come with me through my long garden, and give me your advice
about one or two things? The view up the valley is very lovely, and so
perfectly rustic. Jenny will have tea ready, when we come back.”
To this we all agreed with great pleasure, and my aunt contrived to let
Sam and his Sally fall behind, quite out of our sight among the trees
and shrubs, while she took my arm, and let me carry her camp-stool.
_Jupiter_ alone of the dogs came with us, for she scarcely went even to
church without him; and he certainly was a clever and amusing fellow,
full of information, and yet always adding to it. He looked at me
with great respect, and not a shadow of resentment for the very solid
whack I had bestowed upon him. His black muzzle, big forehead, large
deep eyes, crow’s feet of experience, and furrows of philosophy, were
relieved of their austerity, every now and then, by the gentle waggery
of his corkscrew tail.
“Now I will show you as lovely a piece of rich English landscape as
ever you saw;” the old lady said, as we turned a grassy corner. “I
have often thought of having a bower made here; but perhaps that would
tend to Cockneyfy it. Let me have the stool, Kit, and you sit on that
stump. The view from the house is very beautiful, but this beats it,
because it shows another bend, and perhaps the very prettiest bend
of all the valley. You ought to be here in May, Kit, when the lilacs
and laburnums, and the wild-broom, and the apple-blossom, and the
soft green of the trees along the winding river—don’t talk to me of
Devonshire after that. I have never been there; but I won’t believe it.”
I admired the view, which was very nice indeed, and very prettily
varied in its way. At the same time, I could not help thinking that
some of the broad reaches of the Thames, and the long spread of meadows
with the slanting sun, and the cattle too sleek to care a flip for
flies, and the trees, and the islands and the glassy quiet—such as we
have round our way—were much more likely to do a man good (which must
be the thing they were made for) than all the sharp turns of a pretty
little stream which our river receives without knowing it.
“You are right, my dear nephew,” replied my dear aunt, when I had
expressed opinions not exactly as above; “it is indeed a large and
noble sight. But I fear that those two young people behind us will be
looking all the time at one another, and perhaps never know that they
are in a valley. Mr. Henderson is a very pleasant young man, so far
as I can judge, and a clever one, likely to make his own way in the
world, with the help of all the very great friends he has. But is he to
be thoroughly depended on? Has he the strict principle, and downright
honesty, and love of domestic life, without which no marriage can be
truly happy? I have a great regard for young Miss Chalker; and though
her father belongs to another grade of life, and one with which I have
but little sympathy, I believe him to be a very upright man, and his
heart is bound up with his only child. She has no mother, you must
understand; and I will not lend myself to anything, for which I could
not answer to her father and myself.”
My aunt fixed her keen grey eyes upon me, and her white hair added
to their force and truth. For the first time I felt that I had acted
rashly, and by no means rightly in the matter, as she put it. And that
she put it sensibly, and honestly, and kindly, was too evident for my
self-content. I should not have yielded to Sam’s overtures, or at any
rate, I should not have involved her in the case, without being far
more sure than I was at present of his good qualities. I answered as
truthfully as I could, which is the only right thing to do, however it
may end. And I felt that the end might be my disgrace with her.
“Aunt Parslow, I know very little of Sam Henderson. That is to say, I
have known him from a boy, but never been intimate with him. In our
village he is considered rather ‘fast.’ But we are a very steady-going
lot; and any one who deals at all with racing matters, is sure to
get that reputation with us. I have never heard anything against his
honesty; if I had, I should not be with him, until it was disproved. I
think that he is really attached to Miss Chalker; but whether he would
be a good husband for her, is a great deal more than I can say. You
ladies are the best judges of such matters. If you can give him a good
word, do. But it must depend entirely on your own judgment. For as I
said before, I do not know him at all thoroughly.”
“I am not very sanguine about it,” said my aunt, whose eyes had never
left mine, while I spoke; “and I shall take good care that, if they
meet again here, it shall be with her father’s knowledge. There is one
thing to be said, that they both belong to the same class in life, and
are likely therefore to understand one another’s ways. The same cannot
be said of you, my dear; and your love is a much more romantic affair,
and likely, I fear, to run no smooth course. There I will help you all
I can, and my advice will be of great service to you. Also if you want
a little money, you know where to come for it. And that reminds me
that you may want some now. Your Uncle Orchardson is a man, I believe,
of great integrity and fine principle; but I know that he objects
very strongly to parting with any of the means God has given him. If
you are obliged to run away with your Kitty, to save her from an old
reprobate,—and it may come to that, though I dislike such things—what
does your uncle propose to do for you? He ought to do something
handsome.”
“And so he will, something very handsome. He has promised to pay me
thirty shillings a week for my services in his business, and to let
us a cottage at five shillings a week, which must be worth seven and
sixpence.”
“Exactly like him, the old curmudgeon! Well, I won’t say yet what I
will do, because I have not even seen your Kitty, and I have of course
so many claims upon me. But here is a ten-pound note, to save you from
making your uncle unhappy by asking him to advance you a trifle; and
if you want another you can have it any day. I am pleased with you,
Christopher, because I think you have told me the truth about all these
affairs, as well as about Mr. Henderson; and _Jupiter_, who is the
greatest of all judges, has pronounced most strongly in your favour.
Now let us go and look for that sporting pair. Quite enough of such
proceedings in my garden.”