’TWIXT CUP AND LIP.
Hercules Albert--or Herbert, as he was henceforth to be called--was
not a little taken aback by the sudden change in his circumstances,
which followed Lady Farrington’s supposed recognition of him. To
be measured for a suit of black cloth, which befitted best the
Larkins’ notion of gentility; to have a brand new box, painted
green, with sundry new shirts, new boots, and a broad-brimmed
wide-awake hat, all his own; these were so many delicious
surprises, the full effect of which was fully borne in upon him by
the openly-expressed envy of the rest of the family. But it was a
wrench to him when the time came to leave his home--the only one
he had ever known--to lose the companionship of his playmates, and
the warm, though roughly-expressed, affection of the sergeant and
his wife.
‘Be a man, Herkles,’ the sergeant had said, as the boy stood
snivelling at the door of the casemated room, which represented
the whole of the Larkins’ establishment. ‘Eat your cake.’ They
had provided him with a huge slice of bun-loaf, upon which little
Sennacherib Larkins, a freebooter like his Assyrian sponsor, had
made many inroads while Herbert’s attention was distracted by the
new cares of property and the pangs of making his adieux.
‘Eat your cake, and keep up your heart; me and the missus’ll be
over to see you before the month’s out, and we’ll bring Rechab and
Senn and Jemimer Ann.’
‘It’s all for your own good, Herbert,’ said Mrs. Larkins. ‘They’re
going to make a gentleman of you. You’ll get learning, and Latin,
and French mathematics; and by and by you’ll be an officer,
perhaps, and live like a lord.’
The prospect was brilliant, but remote. Herbert, as a child of the
barracks, had been brought up to believe that officers were almost
superior beings. He saw his father, the sergeant, and all soldiers
salute them always, and pay them extraordinary deference. When in
uniform they were resplendent in crimson and gold; when out of it
they drove dog-carts and played cricket and owned dogs, all of
which Herbert would have liked to have done too. Yet the off-chance
of some day becoming an officer himself did not reconcile him to
separation from the best friends he had in the world; and as he
left Triggertown casemates, he wept bitterly, and refused to be
comforted.
If life looked black and forbidding then, it was a thousand times
worse when he got to school. A cross-grained old man--it was Mr.
Bellhouse, Lady Farrington’s solicitor--escorted him thither, and
snubbed him all the way. The old lawyer was a little sick of her
ladyship’s caprices, and considered this last the most serious of
all. But it was none of Herbert’s fault, and the poor woe-begone
home-sick lad did not deserve to be made to answer for Lady
Farrington’s sins. At school he was left stranded, like a waif
of the sea upon an unknown shore. Presently the natives, troops
of little savage school-boys, swooped down upon him to scalp and
torture him. He was pestered with questions, and his hair pulled,
his strange wide-awake was jeered at, and given to the winds.
But the instincts of self-defence are strong, and Herbert, if new
to school life, was not new to the use of his fists. His tormentors
were numerous, but with one or two exceptions were not much older
or bigger than himself, and when it came to a question of blows and
hard knocks he was physically well able to take care of himself.
Presently a ‘straight un’ from the shoulder relieved him of the
most troublesome of his assailants, and a second, planted upon
the nose of a tall bully, proved that Herbert thought nothing of
disparity in height when disposing of his foes. Boys are sensibly
affected by the display of pluck, especially against superior
odds, and Herbert soon gained for himself the respect due to his
prowess, and immunity from further annoyance.
He was vexed and irritated no more, but he went to his bed, a
far more cleanly and luxurious couch than that which he had been
accustomed to in the crowded casemate at Triggertown, with a sad
and sorrowful heart. There are no woes so acute as those of early
youth. Happily they are as transient as they are intense. Herbert
at night was in the depths of woe; next morning he was already in
a fair way to recover his spirits, and before the day was out, in
the excitement of the new life opening before him, he had forgotten
his sorrows and was as happy as a bird. He was just the boy to get
on at school. Brisk and buoyant in disposition, with a well-knit
vigorous frame, a predilection for games of every kind in which,
with a little experience, he soon excelled, he rapidly advanced in
the estimation of his fellows. He was liberal and free-handed too,
which did not make him the less appreciated, and he had plenty to
give away. ‘His people,’ as boys call their friends, were evidently
of the right sort. The old lady with the snow-white hair and large
mournful eyes, who came to see him regularly every month, was right
royal in her tips, and not to him alone, but to any whom he called
particular friends. He got tuck baskets continually and presents of
all kinds to which others administered as freely as himself. These
are substantial grounds for school popularity, and Herbert enjoyed
it in the highest degree.
As he grew in years and developed in strength and good looks, Lady
Farrington’s affectionate admiration knew no bounds. She lavished
caresses on him without ceasing, declaring that he was daily
becoming more and more fitted for the station which would some day
be his.
‘Yes, yes, the end cannot be far off now,’ she said one day as
she sat in the headmaster’s drawing-room, holding Herbert’s hand
in hers and patting it from time to time in the fulness of her
contentment. ‘Who shall gainsay your claim when they see you thus,
my Herbert’s living image? my son! My son, my lost unhappy son!’
and in a moment she was in a paroxysm of tears.
Herbert was quite accustomed to her now. At first he had been
dismayed by her sudden outbursts. The rapid transition from joy
to sorrow, from smiles to hysterical tears, were sufficient to
frighten him, and when to these were added her wild talk, her
bitter self-reproaches, her mysterious hints of his coming
greatness, he scarcely knew what to do or say. But by degrees he
became familiar with her eccentricities, and he felt that although
she might be queer, she was certainly uncommonly kind.
‘I cannot control myself when I think of the miserable past. But,
please God, in you I shall make some atonement for my sins, and
soon, soon,--for the time draws nigh. You are equal, Herbert, I
trust, to a great and arduous trial?’
He was now nearly seventeen, tall and well-built for his age; and
as he shook his light curls and looked steadily at her with his
clear, honest eyes, he seemed the incarnation of youth and hope.
‘I am game for anything, Lady Farrington, only try me. I’d face the
whole world if you asked me.’
‘My own brave boy! The struggle may be sharp, but with such a
spirit the victory is certain to be ours.’
‘When may I know what it is that I have to do?’
‘The time draws nigh. It depends only on you and your fitness to
play your part. You have not neglected your opportunities I know.
Dr. Jiggs gives you a high character. You have profited by his
studies, you have learnt to ride and shoot, and when you come to
your own you will comport yourself as an English gentleman should.’
‘I am a gentleman born, then?’
‘Of the best,’ she replied proudly. ‘You are--why conceal it
longer? Here you have for reasons been still known as Herbert
Larkins, my ward, but you are really my grandson, the only child
of Herbert, my second boy. You are Sir Herbert Farrington, the
rightful heir of the family honours of an old name and wide
estates.’
‘Is this certain, quite certain?’
‘Absolutely--at least to me. I have never doubted from the first.
My instinct assured me I was right when I recognised you in
Triggertown. But as the world needs more material proof I have
sought them out, and hold them now all but one. This also I should
have possessed had not one person failed me.’
‘Who was that?’
‘Mrs. Larkins. She alone can tell us what we want to know, and she
has most unaccountably hesitated or refused to speak. This is why I
have broken with her--why I have forbidden them to come and see you
again.’
These honest people had paid several visits to Herbert at school,
visits he had received with delight. They had ceased suddenly, and
he had wondered greatly thereat.
‘But if my mother--if Mrs. Larkins--’
‘Mrs. Larkins is not your mother, Herbert, of that you may rest
assured.’
‘She was as good as one to me always, I know that. But if she is
the only person who can help us in this matter, was it prudent to
break with her altogether?’ Herbert asked very pertinently.
‘I was annoyed, angry, and they were proud--I will seek them out
again. They are necessary to us. Mrs. Larkins shall speak, and
we will proceed at once to establish your claim. My patience is
exhausted and Rupert’s cup is full.’
This conversation occurred at a time mentioned in a previous
chapter when her relations with Sir Rupert had become more and
more constrained. War had long been imminent between them, but a
rupture had been precipitated by the overbearing harshness of his
ways. She had spoken, therefore, a little rashly and prematurely
perhaps, and in doing so had shown her hand. She had practically
thrown down the glove, daring him to do his worst. He accepted the
challenge, and acted with a promptitude and determination for which
the poor cracked-brained old lady was certainly no match.
His first step was to put a watch upon Lady Farrington’s movements.
Mr. Oozenam, the well-known private detective, was employed, who
set about his task with his usual skill and despatch. Within a week
or two he came with his first report.
‘Lady Farrington goes once every month, often twice, to Deadham
School, in Essex. She has done so these five years past and more.’
‘Of course. The cub, her _protégé_, is there. Well?’
‘A ward of her ladyship’s, Herbert Larkins, is at school there. He
is now seventeen years of age, is tall and well grown, has fair
curly hair and greyish blue eyes. Her ladyship is said to take an
immense interest in him. Their interviews are long. She must be
very liberal to him; the lad is always well provided with money
which he spends freely. He is a fair scholar, has been taught
especially to ride and shoot, has learnt foreign languages and all
extras.’
‘That is enough, Mr. Oozenam. You have handsomely earned your fee.’
‘It has gone very far,’ Sir Rupert said to himself as soon as he
was alone. ‘What an idiot I have been not to have observed her
more closely! But let us hope it is not too late even now.’
And then, after a long cogitation, he called for his carriage, and
driving first into the neighbouring country town, where he made one
or two calls, he bade the coachman next proceed to Farrington Court.
He asked for Lady Farrington, and was in due course ushered into
her private boudoir.
‘The time has come, Lady Farrington, as you were good enough to
say some time back--the time for plain speaking. I mean to put an
end to your tomfooleries once for all. So long as they merely made
you appear ridiculous I could have borne with you, although you
scandalized our name. But I cannot permit you to plot against me
and mine without protest and something more.’
‘Plot?’ she asked, in a voice which anger and agitation combined
to make nearly inarticulate.
‘I have discovered all. You have kept your secret well, but I have
found it out. This base-born pretender--’
‘He is my own grandson. I have the proofs.’
‘They will not bear the test of legal scrutiny, you know that. On
the contrary, I can show that the whole affair is a conspiracy from
beginning to end. That this Larkins is an adventurer--’
‘You will not harm him, surely? It is I, only I, who am to blame.’
‘I shall hand him over to the police, prosecute him, and make him
pay dearly for his attempt to defraud.’
‘You would not dare,’ she cried aghast. Surprise and indignation
combined to confuse her mind, and she did not pause to consider
that he had no grounds of procedure; that his threats were vain,
and could never be put into execution.
‘I shall not spare him nor you.’
‘Then you shall take the consequences. I will proclaim you to be
the villain that you are; will tear you from your present exalted
station, and will send you back to your former poverty and rags.
You shall be dispossessed. You shall disgorge the rents and all
that you have improperly acquired. You--’
He merely laughed at her, mockingly and rudely, which exasperated
her beyond all bounds.
‘Begone, sir! You shall not remain here another second to insult
me. Begone! or--’
He only laughed more loudly and mockingly than before. Instantly
her rage passed into fury which seemed uncontrollable.
‘Begone!’ she cried again, snatching up a sharp-pointed paper
knife and rushing on him with so much intention that Sir Rupert
precipitately retired. She followed him downstairs with a wild
shriek, little recking how completely she was playing into his
hands.
The butler had just admitted several other visitors, who heard and
saw all that passed. Sir Rupert went up to them apparently for
protection, but his first words showed that he was eager for more
than this.
‘Gentlemen, you have arrived most opportunely. You can see for
yourselves. It is clearly not safe to leave her any longer at
large.’
The butler had quelled poor Lady Farrington almost instantly, but
although he held her back she was still furious and foamed at the
mouth.
‘Scarcely. We cannot refuse the certificate,’ said Mr. Burkinshaw,
of Bootle, a local magistrate and magnate. ‘Sir Henry quite agrees
with me, and the doctors have no manner of doubt. Poor woman, she
ought clearly to be put under restraint.’
And she was, without unnecessary delay.
Thus Herbert Larkins lost his protectress just when his fortune
seemed close at hand. The cup was dashed away just before he had
lifted it to his lips, with consequences which were by no means
pleasant to himself, as will be seen in the next chapter.