INTO GOOD SOCIETY.
In spite of all that poor landsmen say about equinoctial gales and so
on, we often have the loveliest weather of all the year in September. If
this sets in, it lasts sometimes for three weeks or a month together.
Then the sky is bright and fair, with a firm and tranquil blue, not so
deep of tint or gentle as the blue of spring-tide, but more truly staid
and placid, and far more trustworthy. The sun, both when he rises over
the rounded hills behind the cliffs, and when he sinks into the level of
the width of waters, shines with ripe and quiet lustre, to complete a
year of labour. As the eastern in the morning, so at sunset the western
heaven glows with an even flush of light through the entire depth
pervading, and unbroken by any cloud. Then at dusk the dew fog wavers in
white stripes over the meadowland, or in winding combes benighted
pillows down, and leaves its impress a sparkling path for the sun's
return. To my mind no other part of the year is pleasanter than this end
of harvest, with golden stubble, and orchards gleaming, and the
hedgerows turning red. Then fish are in season, and fruit is wholesome,
and the smell of sweet brewing is rich on the air.
This beautiful weather it was that tempted Colonel Lougher and Lady
Bluett to take a trip for the day to Sker. The distance from Candleston
Court must be at least two good leagues of sandy road, or rather of sand
without any road, for a great part of the journey. Therefore, instead of
their heavy coach, they took a light two-wheeled car, and a steady-going
pony, which was very much wiser of them. Also, which was wiser still,
they had a good basket of provisions, intending to make a long sea-side
day, and expecting a lively appetite. I saw them pass through Newton as
I chanced to be mending my nets by the well; and I touched my hat to the
Colonel of course, and took it off to the lady. The Colonel was driving
himself, so as not to be cumbered with any servant; and happening to see
such a basket of food, I felt pretty sure there would be some over, for
the quality never eat like us. Then it came into my memory that they
could not bear Evan Thomas, and it struck me all of a sudden that it
might be well worth my while to happen to meet them upon their return,
before they passed any poor houses, as well as to happen to be swinging
an empty basket conspicuously. It was a provident thought of mine, and
turned out as well as its foresight deserved.
They passed a very pleasant day at Sker (as I was told that evening),
pushing about among rocks and stones, and routing out this, that, and
the other, of shells and sea-weed and starfish, and all the rest of the
rubbish, such as amuses great gentry, because they have nothing to do
for their living. And though money is nothing to them, they always seem
to reckon what they find by money-value. Not Colonel Lougher, of course,
I mean, and even less Lady Bluett. I only speak of some grand people who
come raking along our beach. And of all of these there was nobody with
the greediness Anthony Stew had. A crab that had died in changing his
shell would hardly come amiss to him. Let that pass--who cares about
him? I wish to speak of better people. The Colonel, though he could not
keep ill-will against any one on earth, did not choose to be indebted to
Sker-grange for even so much as a bite of hay for his pony. Partly,
perhaps, that he might not appear to play false to his own tenantry; for
the Nottage farmers, who held of the Colonel, were always at feud with
Evan Thomas. Therefore he baited the pony himself, after easing off some
of the tackle, and moored him to an ancient post in a little sheltered
hollow. Their rations also he left in the car, for even if any one did
come by, none would ever think of touching this good magistrate's
property.
Quite early in the afternoon, their appetites grew very brisk by reason
of the crisp sea-breeze and sparkling freshness of the waves.
Accordingly, after consultation, they agreed that the time was come to
see what Crumpy, their honest old butler, had put into the basket. The
Colonel held his sister's hand to help her up rough places, and
breasting a little crest of rushes, they broke upon a pretty sight,
which made them both say "hush," and wonder.
In a hollow place of sand, spread with dry white bones, skates' pouches,
blades of cuttle-fish, sea-snail shells, and all the other things that
storm and sea drive into and out of the sands, a very tiny maid was
sitting, holding audience all alone. She seemed to have no sense at all
of loneliness or of earthly trouble in the importance of the moment and
the gravity of play. Before her sat three little dolls, arranged
according to their rank, cleverly posted in chairs of sand. The one in
the middle was "Patty Green," the other two strange imitations
fashioned by young Watkin's knife. Each was urging her claim to shells,
which the mistress was dispensing fairly, and with good advice to each,
then laughing at herself and them, and trying to teach them a
nursery-song, which broke down from forgetfulness. And all the while her
quick bright face, and the crisp grain of her attitudes, and the jerk of
her thick short curls, were enough to make any one say, "What a queer
little soul!" Therefore it is not to be surprised at that Colonel
Lougher could not make her out, or that while he was feeling about for
his eye-glass of best crystal, his sister was (as behoves a female)
rasher to express opinion. For she had lost a little girl, and sometimes
grieved about it still.
"What a queer little, dear little thing, Henry! I never saw such a
child. Where can she have dropped from? Did you see any carriage come
after us? It is useless to tell me that she can belong to any of the
people about here. Look at her forehead, and look at her manners, and
how she touches everything! Now did you see that? What a wonderful
child! Every movement is grace and delicacy. Oh, you pretty darling!"
Her ladyship could wait no longer for the Colonel's opinion (which he
was inclined to think of ere he should come out with it), and she ran
down the sandhill almost faster than became her dignity. But if she had
been surprised before, how was she astonished now at Bardie's reception
of her?
"Don'e tush. Knee tushy paw, see voo pay. All 'e dollies is yae good;
just going to dinny, and 'e mustn't 'poil their appeties."
And the little atom arose and moved Lady Bluett's skirt out of her magic
circle. And then, having saved her children, she stood scarcely up to
the lady's knee, and looked at her as much as to ask, "Are you of the
quality?" And being well satisfied on that point, she made what the lady
declared to be the most elegant curtsy she ever had seen.
Meanwhile the Colonel was coming up, in a dignified manner, and
leisurely, perceiving no cause to rush through rushes, and knowing that
his sister was often too quick. This had happened several times in the
matter of beggars and people on crutches, and skin-collectors, and
suchlike, who cannot always be kept out of the way of ladies; and his
worship the Colonel had been compelled to endeavour to put a stop to it.
Therefore (as the best man in the world cannot in reason be expected to
be in a moment abreast with the sallies of even the best womankind, but
likes to see to the bottom of it) the Colonel came up crustily.
"Eleanor, can you not see that the child does not wish for your
interference? Her brothers and sisters are sure to be here from Kenfig
most likely, or at any rate some of her relations, and busy perhaps with
our basket."
"No," said the child, looking up at him, "I'se got no 'lations now; all
gone ayae; but all come back de-morrow day."
"Why, Henry, what are we thinking of? This must be the poor little girl
that was wrecked. And I wanted you so to come down and see her; but you
refused on account of her being under the care of Farmer Thomas."
"No, my dear, not exactly that, but on account of the trouble in the
house I did not like to appear to meddle."
"Whatever your reason was," answered the lady, "no doubt you were quite
right; but now I must know more of this poor little thing. Come and have
some dinner with us, my darling; I am sure you must be hungry. Don't be
afraid of the Colonel. He loves little children when they are good."
But poor Bardie hung down her head and was shy, which never happened to
her with me or any of the common people; she seemed to know, as if by
instinct, that she was now in the company of her equals. Lady Bluett,
however, was used to children, and very soon set her quite at ease by
inviting her dolls, and coaxing them and listening to their histories,
and all the other little turns that unlock the hearts of innocence. So
it came to pass that the castaway dined in good society for the first
time since her great misfortune. Here she behaved so prettily, and I
might say elegantly, that Colonel Lougher (who was of all men the most
thoroughly just and upright) felt himself bound to confess his error in
taking her for a Kenfig nobody. Now, as it happened to be his birthday,
the lady had ordered Mr Crumpy, the butler, to get a bottle of the
choicest wine, and put it into the hamper without saying anything to the
Colonel, so that she might drink his health, and persuade him to do
himself the like good turn. Having done this, she gave the child a drop
in the bottom of her own wine-glass, which the little one tossed off
most fluently, and with a sigh of contentment said--
"I'se not had a dop of that yiney-piney ever since--sompfin."
"Why, what wine do you call it, my little dear?" the Colonel asked,
being much amused with her air of understanding it.
"Doesn't 'a know?" she replied, with some pity; "nat's hot I calls a dop
of good Sam Paine."
"Give her some more," said the Colonel; "upon my word she deserves it.
Eleanor, you were right about her; she is a wonderful little thing."
All the afternoon they kept her with them, being more and more delighted
with her as she began to explain her opinions; and Watty, who came to
look after her, was sent home with a shilling in his pocket. And some of
the above I learned from him, and some from Mr Crumpy (who was a very
great friend of mine), and a part from little Bardie, and the rest even
from her good ladyship, except what trifles I add myself, being gifted
with power of seeing things that happen in my absence.
This power has been in my family for upwards of a thousand years, coming
out and forming great bards sometimes, and at other times great
story-tellers. Therefore let no one find any fault or doubt any single
thing I tell them concerning some people who happen just now to be five
or six shelves in the world above me, for I have seen a great deal of
the very highest society when I cleaned my Earl's pumps and epaulettes,
and waited upon him at breakfast; and I know well how those great people
talk, not from observation only, but by aid of my own fellow-feeling for
them, which, perhaps, owes its power of insight not to my own sagacity
only, but to my ancestors' lofty positions, as poets to royal families.
Now although I may have mentioned this to the man of the Press--whose
hat appeared to have undergone Press experience--I have otherwise kept
it quite out of sight, because every writer should hold himself entirely
round the corner, and discover his hand, but not his face, to as many as
kindly encourage him. Of late, however, it has been said--not by people
of our own parish, who have seen and heard me at the well and elsewhere,
but by persons with no more right than power to form opinions--that I
cannot fail of breaking down when I come to describe great people. To
these my answer is quite conclusive. From my long connection with
royalty, lasting over a thousand years, I need not hesitate to describe
the Prince of Wales himself; and inasmuch as His Royal Highness is not
of pure ancient British descent, I verily doubt whether he could manage
to better my humble style to my liking.
Enough of that. I felt doubts at beginning, but I find myself stronger
as I get on. You may rely upon me now to leave the question to your own
intelligence. The proof of the pudding is in the eating; and if any one
fears that I cannot cook it, I only beg him to wait and see.
Lady Bluett was taken so much with my Bardie, and the Colonel the
same--though he tried at first to keep it under--that nothing except
their own warm kindness stopped them from making off with her. The lady
had vowed that she would do so, for it would be so much for the little
soul's good; and of course, so far as legality went, the Chief-Justice
of the neighbourhood had more right to her than a common rough farmer.
But Watty came down, being sent by Moxy, after he went home with that
shilling, and must needs make show of it. He came down shyly, from habit
of nature, to the black eyebrows of the tide, where the Colonel and
Bardie were holding grand play, with the top of the spring running up to
them. She was flying at the wink of every wave, and trying to push him
back into it; and he was laughing with all his heart at her spry ways
and audacity, and the quickness of her smiles and frowns, and the whole
of her nature one whirl of play, till he thought nothing more of his
coat-tails.
"What do you want here, boy?" the Colonel asked, being not best pleased
that a man of his standing should be caught in the middle of such
antics.
Watkin opened his great blue eyes, and opened his mouth as well, but
could not get steerage-way on his tongue, being a boy of great
reverence.
"Little fellow, what are you come for?" with these words he smiled on
the boy, and was vexed with himself for frightening him.
"Oh sir, oh sir, if you please, sir, mother says as Miss Delushy must
come home to bed, sir."
"'E go ayay now, 'e bad Yatkin! I 'ants more pay with my dear Colonel
Yucca."
"I am not at all sure," said the Colonel, laughing, "that I shall not
put her into my car, and drive away with her, Watkin."
"You may go home, my good boy, and tell your mother that we have taken
this poor little dear to Candleston." This, of course, was Lady Bluett.
You should have seen Watkin's face, they told me, when I came to hear of
it. Betwixt his terror of giving offence, and his ignorance how to
express his meaning, and the sorrow he felt on his mother's account, and
perhaps his own pain also, not a word had he to say, but made a grope
after the baby's hands. Then the little child ran up to him, and flung
both arms around his leg, and showed the stanchness of her breed. Could
any one, even of six years old, better enter into it?
"I yoves Yatkin. Yatkin is aye good and kind. And I yoves poor Moky. I
'ont go ayay till my dear papa and my dear mamma comes for me."
Lady Bluett, being quick and soft, could not keep her tears from
starting; and the Colonel said, "It must be so. We might have done a
great wrong, my dear. Consider all"--and here he whispered out of
Watkin's hearing, and the lady nodded sadly, having known what trouble
is. But the last words he spoke bravely, "God has sent her for a comfort
where He saw that it was needed. We must not give way to a passing fancy
against a deep affliction; only we will keep our eyes upon this little
orphan darling."