COLDPEPPER HALL.
Although there was a little help of moonlight, Sam drove home very
carefully; for the more a man has to do with horses, the better he
knows where the risk is. And I saw that his speech about Sally’s speed,
as a power that could not be modified, was a speech, and nothing
more. He set me down at my uncle’s door, with many warm thanks for my
kindness, and a strong assurance that he should now go in and win. But
my uncle was not so well pleased; for he had very little love for Sam,
and much hatred at being kept out of his bed.
“I suppose you don’t want any supper,” he grumbled; “if you do, you
must go and get what you can find. Your Aunt Parslow is a wealthy
woman, but not the one to feed you as I do. I’ll be bound she has
sent you quite empty away. There’s a bit of cold hock of bacon in the
cupboard.”
I told him that I had been fed like a prince, which only increased
his ill humour. “She wants you to go and do her trees for nothing. I
understand that old woman;” he said, as he gave me an inch of tallow
candle. “But after real turtle and Champagne, you will be able to make
something out of this. It came by the girl who is old Tabby’s niece, or
cousin, or grandmother, or something. The footman, no doubt, was too
grand to come down here. Don’t bother me with it. I want my nightcap.”
He gave me a letter, which he had opened, and which was addressed in a
crabbed hand to “Mr. Cornelius Orchardson, Market Gardener, Sunbury;”
and when he was gone, I read as follows:—
“Miss Coldpepper presents her compliments to Mr. Orchardson, and will
be much obliged if he will send his nephew Christopher to the Hall at
ten o’clock to-morrow morning, as Miss Coldpepper has something to say
to him.”
My conscience being in a dreadful state of nervousness and discomfort,
without anybody to relieve it to, or any one to put it on, I wondered
and wondered what this could mean; till my dreams, like a thatcher’s
pole, twisted it into a thousand ropes of many-coloured stuff and
stream. And when the morning came at last, I could not set about my
work, until I had learned what Tabby Tapscott thought about this new
surprise. She, in her provoking ways, pretended to know everything, but
would only shake her head and mutter, and tell me to insure my life.
At last I saw that she knew nothing, and the only comfort that I could
find was to tell her that she should never know, because she was an old
humbug.
It was a dull and foggy morning, with a gray rime on the grass, and
dead leaves hanging tipped with wet, and dribbles of puddles along the
walk doubting whether to freeze or flow, and the whole air reeking
with that Job’s comfort, which means that there is much worse to come.
I buttoned my coat and strode more briskly, though going upon a loth
errand, you may know.
When they showed me in at the tradesman’s door—for I then looked up to
dignities, which exist by being looked up to—a strange and unaccustomed
thing upset all the rally of my conscience. _Regulus_, the foremost of
all beings in a well regulated household, came down the passage, at a
pace which spoke nine volumes for his digestion, though his lips were
clouted with fine cream; and instead of taking a nip at me, he threw
up his head, as if he would have taken his hat off, if he wore one,
and indulged in a bark of welcome, which went ringing back to the hall
itself. Then he cut a caper round my feet, and with the innumerable
laughter of his tail, fell fawning, and begged but a word from me. I
have often seen men of small self-respect do that sort of thing to
great personages, but I knew that this dog was full of self-respect,
and had little for other people. What was passing in his mind I cannot
say, but simply record his actions.
“Well, I never see the like!” said Charles, who had condescended to let
me in. “Why, he snap’th worse than ever at me; though the Lord knows
how I sweated to get ’un back. But come along this way, Master Kit; my
lady will see you in the Justice-room.”
He showed me into a square panelled chamber, where old Squire Nicholas
used to rule over poachers and little thieves brought before him by the
parish constable; and with _Regulus_ still at my heels, I stood waiting
anxiously for the lady.
At length there came a rustle of silk moving slowly, watered silk,
such as we seldom see now, and can scarcely find time to think of. And
as fine as the silk, and as able to stand alone, was the lady inside
it. Although she lived so near to us, and drove by in her carriage so
often, I knew her rather by sight than speech, and better by report
than either. She was tall, and straight, and of goodly presence, with
fine large features, and a steadfast look, which expressed clear
perception and strong resolve, but less violence of nature than her
sister showed. Her abundant hair, drawn back from her ample forehead
and coiled at the back of her head, would have been jet black but for a
few lines of silver and an undercast of a tint like that of an American
oak-leaf. To me she appeared more imposing and handsome than her sister
Monica; but I may have thought more highly of her because she lived
at Sunbury. This lady made me a graceful bow, a very slight one, but
still it was a bow, and proved that her nature was better than that of
the Honourable Mrs. Bulwrag. I replied with a low bend and scrape of
my foot, which I always understand to be the proper thing, in such a
case. And the guilt of my heart, as I thought of her dog, was enough to
account for the deep blush I felt.
“Are you the young Mr. Orchardson,” she asked, “the nephew of that Mr.
Orchardson who owns the large garden and long walls at Sunbury? Then I
have a little matter to discuss with you. But how strongly my dog seems
to take to you! It is not at all his general character. He is not at
all devoted to mankind. But he has a remarkable memory. Perhaps you
were kind to him when he was quite young. Or perhaps you were even his
master?”
“No, ma’am; I know him only as your dog. But most dogs are fond of me.
An aunt of mine has nine, and I was with them yesterday.”
“Oh, that explains it;” she spoke with a smile which made her face
quite beautiful, and I wondered at the taste of the Honourable Tom in
exchanging her for her sister. “Now I dare say you know why I sent for
you. For some years I have not seen very much of my sister, now the
wife of Professor Fairthorn, a man well known in the scientific world.
But a few weeks ago Captain Fairthorn asked me to allow his daughter by
a previous marriage to spend a few days with me here; and I consented,
for I knew him long before he married my sister, and have always felt a
great regard for him. There is no reason why I should enter into that.
Miss Fairthorn was here for about ten days, and she might have been
longer but for you. Who are you, that you should dare to fall in love
with her?”
Now these words look very harsh as written, and would sound so too, if
harshly spoken. But Miss Coldpepper scarcely seemed to mean them thus;
for there was no contempt in her voice, and I thought that her glance
was kind, though her face was very grave. Perhaps she was thinking of
her own love-time; which would rouse at once pity for me, and ill-will
towards the sister, who then had wronged her so.
It was difficult for me to answer her, and I was in no hurry to do so;
knowing from dialogues with Tabby Tapscott, that women are ready to go
on again, and perhaps answer themselves, when provoked to do it. Not
that I compared Miss Coldpepper with our poor Tabby for a moment; only
that much the same rule applies to all women, when they grow unruly.
Their main object is to say something striking, being forbidden by
nature to strike otherwise.
“You have nothing to say then,” continued the lady, without giving me
time to know how much I had; “very well, I think that it is better so.
I have tried to make every allowance for you, and I am glad not to find
you at all defiant. Miss Fairthorn, of course, has no particular claims
of birth to stand upon; for you know, and perhaps you have thought
about that, that she has none of the Coldpepper blood in her system. I
suppose, if she had, you would scarcely have dared to behave in this
way, Mr. Orchardson!”
“Certainly not, madam,” I replied with genuine truth, for I must have
been frightened at the fearful temper of the family. And if Kitty had
been a Coldpepper, she could not have owned the sweet face which had
won me.
“Really, I do not perceive in you,” her ladyship (as our people called
her) went on in a gentler tone, “any signs of that audacity with which
my sister charges you. To me you seem to be a well-meaning and fairly
educated young man. And it may be your misfortune, more than fault,
that you have given this offence. You certainly were of the greatest
service to my niece—as I allow her to call herself, although she is no
niece of mine—when that excessively stupid Marker led her into needless
danger. I do not know what I could have said to Professor Fairthorn, if
his daughter had been swept away, through the folly of my housekeeper.
And more than that, I was beginning to grow rather fond of that young
girl. I found her so ready, and clever, and obliging, and free from
the conceit the young people show now. When she was taken away like
that, I missed her very sadly, and felt for her deeply at having to go
back to—to so very dull a house. But I wish you to understand, young
man, that though I am not in a position to forbid, I cannot in any way
sanction, or even approve your suit to her. And I trust that your own
common sense will induce you to withdraw it, and try to forget her. You
may think it hard. But it must be so. Will you promise to think no more
of her?”
“No, I cannot do that;” I answered in a low voice, which grew stronger,
as my heart warmed with my words. “I will tell you no falsehood, Miss
Coldpepper. As long as I live, I must think of her, and no one else in
all this world. She is more to me than my life, my soul, or even my
hope of another life. From the moment I first set eyes upon her, there
was nothing else worth living for. The Lord, who governs all our ways,
and knows what is the best for us, has been pleased to give me her pure
love, a greater gift than the life He gave; and with His aid I will
hold it fast; and He alone shall ever part us. I am not accustomed to
strong words, but these are weak to what my meaning is.”
“Well, I think they are pretty strong; but I will not blame you for
them.” She turned from my eyes, which were bright with deep passion, as
behoved a well-bred lady. “When things have come to such a pass, there
is little more to be said or done. Only it occurs to me, who have seen
a good deal of men and women, that these brave words are often said,
and for the moment felt, no doubt; but in a few years, or even one, or
perhaps a month—where are they? A new love, equally the gift of Heaven,
comes in with still hotter fervour; and the old one is whistled down
the wind. And why should it not be so with you?” I knew that in the
heat of the moment, she was referring to her own case; and my place was
to be silent.
“Christopher Orchardson,” she said at last, recovering her business
tone, “I have delivered my message to you, and it has not made much
impression. To me the matter is of little moment, except that I like
Miss Fairthorn more than I ever expected to like a girl again. And
I am not pleased, as you may suppose, that she, with her youth, and
abilities, and beauty, should make so poor a marriage. Have you thought
of this? Have you considered whether you have any right to take her
from a rank in life, or at least from a social position above your own,
and keep her in a cottage, among working men, with a scanty and perhaps
doubtful income? You are a man of spirit; do you think this fair?”
This was the point of all points, which perplexed me more than I could
settle. She saw how deeply her words had moved me, and waited with a
grim smile for my reply.
“Yes, I have fully considered that; and it is the one matter I doubt
about. You have put it more clearly, madam, than I could put it, and
entirely without exaggeration. And I scarcely know how to answer,
without referring to things that may pain you. But you may be aware
that Miss Fairthorn at present leads a most unhappy life. And even
worse than that, everything is being done to force her into a miserable
marriage with a man of more than twice her age, and of anything but
good character. He is supposed to be rich, but is poorer than myself,
because he owes more than he can pay. She had better go to her grave,
than become the wife of such a person. From this she has no escape
except the quiet home I can give her. And to live among working men,
who would respect, and look up to, and admire her, is surely less of a
degradation than to be brought into wild and rough company, as in the
other case she must be. It will be known here, that she has had the
honour of your acquaintance and liking; and though you may not think
fit to continue it, under the change of circumstances, people will
value her by what has been. And as for being happy, what is there to
prevent it? She will live in a beautiful place and fine gardens, where
there is always plenty to look at, and enjoy, according to the time of
year, abundance of flowers, and fruit, and good living, my uncle to
make much of her, and myself to worship her, and nobody ever to say a
cross word.”
“It is not surprising that you have won her consent,” Miss Coldpepper
answered gravely, “if you have put your proposals thus. How could a
poor London girl resist such a programme? And Kitty loves the country,
as a lark or a wood-queist does. Well, you must understand that I will
have nothing more to say about it. I have been asked to tell you what I
think, I have done so; and there is an end of it.”
With these words, she rang the bell, for some one to show me the way
out; but having found her much less awful than I had expected, I was
not content to let well alone, but must needs try to get further.
“Madam,” I said, “you have listened so kindly to all I have ventured to
tell you, that I hope you will let me ask one question, without being
thought impertinent. It is only that I should like to know, who it is
that has begged you to speak to me, and whether Captain Fairthorn is
aware of it.”
At once her demeanour was changed to me, and her lofty indifference was
gone. Her eyebrows rose, and her eyelids quivered, and her face flushed
with wrath, like a storm-cloud with the sun.
“I think that I have listened too kindly to you, and the things
you have dared to tell me. It will teach me to have less to say to
underbred young men henceforth. Charles, show this young man where the
front door is.”
This was very clever, and abashed me deeply; as if I had no right to
know any other than the back-entrance. And I observed that she did not
lose her self-command, nor revile me as if on her own level, as her far
less dignified sister did. I was much more entirely smitten down, and
made sensible of my distance from her, as one too deep to be bridged by
words. And yet the sense of justice, which is always strongest in the
young, stood up and bade me take all this as only of human ordinance.
For no thought of presumption had been in my mind, or of undue
familiarity. A cat may look at a king; and the king (like a dog) hath
only his own day.