"My mother came from Spain...
And I am Spanish in myself
And in my likings."
It was late on the afternoon of Christmas Eve. The hall at Oakby was
full of branches of holly and ivy. Nettie, perched on the top of an oak
cabinet, was sticking sprays into the frame of her grandfather's
picture, and Jack and Bob were arranging, according to time-honoured
custom, a great bunch of bright-berried holly over the mantelpiece, to
do which in safety was a work unattainable by feminine petticoats.
"It's a great shame of Cherry not to come in time to help," said Nettie.
"They'll have got hold of him down at the church," said Jack. "There,
that's first-rate."
"I say, Jack, do you know Virginia Seyton came home yesterday? Isn't it
funny that they should have one too?"
"One what?"
"Why, a relation, a sister, when we've got a brother. I wonder--"
Suddenly Nettie stopped, as a crash of wheels sounded on the frosty
gravel, and the front-door bell pealed loudly.
"Oh, Jack!" and Nettie jumped off the cabinet at one bound, six feet
high though it was, and caught hold of the end of Jack's coat in a
perfect agony of shyness. "Oh, let's run away!"
"Let go. I can't get down. Stand still and don't be silly," said Jack,
gruffly, as he got off the steps, while the butler hurried forward and
threw open the door. Nettie stood in the fire-light, her golden hair
flying in the gust of wind, her hands together, like a wild thing at
bay. Bob remained perched, half-way up the ladder, and Jack made a step
or two forward.
A tall figure in a dark cloak, with bright crimson lining, and a large
felt hat, stood in the doorway.
"Are you Cheriton?" he said eagerly, and with a strong foreign accent.
"No; he's out. I'm Jack. How d'ye do? We didn't know when you were
coming," said Jack, in a tone from which embarrassment took every shade
of cordiality. He put out his hand quickly, however, as the stranger
made a movement as if possibly intending a more tender salutation.
Alvar took it, then removed his hat, and advancing towards the
speechless Nettie said,--
"This is my sister? May I not salute her?" and lightly touched her
cheek with his lips. "I have thought of you, my sister," he said.
"Have you?" stammered Nettie, hanging down her head like a child. Bob
remained motionless on his ladder, and Jack said,--
"Here's my father," as Mr Lester came hurriedly into the hall, nearly
as much embarrassed as his children, and pale with an agitation which
they did not share. Alvar turned round, and bowed low with a respectful
grace that his brothers certainly could not have imitated.
Mr Lester came forward and held out his hand. It needed all his innate
sense of good breeding to overcome the repulsion which the very idea of
his strange son caused him. The sense of owing him amends for
long-neglected duty, the knowledge how utterly out of place this
foreigner must be as heir of Oakby, the feeling that by so recognising
him he was wronging alike his forefathers and his other children, while
he yet knew how much his whole life through he had wronged Alvar
himself, came upon him with renewed force. Then as he heard such tones,
and saw such a face as he had not seen for years, what rush of long past
sentiment, what dead and buried love and hate came rushing over him with
such agitating force, that in the effort to avoid a scene, and a display
of feeling which, yielded to, might have smoothed the relations between
them for ever, his greeting to his son was as cold as ice!
"How do you do, Alvar? I am glad to see you. We did not expect you so
soon. You must have found your journey very cold."
"I did not delay. It was my wish to see my father," said Alvar, a
little wistfully. "My father, I trust, will find me a dutiful son."
Here Bob giggled, and Jack nearly knocked him off the ladder with the
nudge evoked by his greater sense of propriety.
"No doubt--no doubt," said Mr Lester. "I hope we shall understand each
other, soon. Where's Cheriton? Jack, suppose you show--him--your
brother, his room. Dinner at seven, you know. I daresay you're
hungry."
"I did take a cup of coffee, but it was not good," said Alvar, as he
followed Jack upstairs; and the latter, mortally afraid of a
_tete-a-tete_, shut him into the bedroom prepared for him, and rushed
downstairs to encounter Cheriton, who came hurrying in, thinking himself
late for dinner.
"Cherry, he's come!"
"Oh, Cherry, he's so queer! He makes pretty speeches, and he bows!"
"He's a regular nigger, he's so black!"
"Oh, Cherry, it's _awful_!"
"What have you done with him? Where's the squire?" said Cherry, as soon
as he could make himself heard.
"Oh, papa has seen him, and Jack's taken him into his room," said
Nettie.
"He thought I was you," said Jack. Cheriton stood still for a moment,
as shy as the rest, then, with an effort, he ran upstairs.
"It's only kind to go and say how d'ye do to a fellow," he thought, as
he tapped at the bedroom door, and entered with outstretched hand, and
blushing to the tips of his ears. "Oh, how d'ye do? I'm so sorry I was
out of the way; they kept me to nail up the wreaths. I'm very glad to
see you. Aren't you very cold?"
Probably the foreigner understood about half of this lucid and connected
greeting; but something in the warmth of the tone made him come forward
eagerly.
"You are then really my brother Cheriton? I thought it was again the
other one."
"What, Jack? Yes, we're thought alike, I believe."
"I do not see that," said Alvar, contemplating him gravely; "but I have
known you in my thoughts--always."
"I'm sure--we've all thought a great deal about you. But there's no one
to help you. Have you got your things? I'll ring," nearly pulling down
the bell-rope. "And, look here, I'll just dress and come back, and go
down with you--shall I?" Cheriton's summons was rapidly answered, as
curiosity inspired the servants as well as their masters; and leaving
Alvar to make his toilet, he hastened upstairs. The three brothers
slept in a long passage at the top of the house, over the drawing-room.
As Cherry's step sounded, both his brothers' doors burst open
simultaneously, and Jack and Bob, in various stages of dressing, at once
ejaculated,--
"Well!"
"How can I tell? It's awfully late. I shall never be ready," and
Cherry banged his own door, too much astounded by the new brother to
stand a discussion on him.
As soon as he was ready he went down stairs, and found Alvar, rather to
his relief, attired in correct evening costume.
"I suppose you haven't seen my grandmother yet?" he said.
"Your grandmother? I did not know there was a grandmother," said Alvar,
in a much puzzled voice, which, together with the sense of how much his
brother had to learn, nearly upset Cherry's gravity.
"My father's mother, you know. She lives with us," he said. "She is
your grandmother too."
"Ah!" said Alvar, "I loved my grandmother much. This other one, she
will be most venerable, I am sure."
"Come along then," said Cherry, unable to stand more conversation at
present.
Mrs Lester, whatever her private opinions might be, had too much
respect for the heir, for herself, and for the house of Lester, not to
attire herself with unusual dignity, and to rise and advance to receive
her grandson.
"How do you do, Alvar?" she said. "You have been a long time in coming
to see us."
Alvar, after a moment's pause, as if doubtful what sort of salutation
would be acceptable, bowed low and kissed her hand. Nettie laughed; but
her grandmother drew herself up as if the act of homage was not
altogether displeasing to her, and then looked keenly at the new
grandson, who, as far as looks went, was no unworthy scion of the
handsome Lesters.
He was as tall as his father, though of a different and slighter make,
and stood with a sort of graceful stiffness, unlike the easy
loose-limbed air of most young English gentlemen. He had a dark olive
skin, and oval face; but his features were not unlike the prevailing
family type; and though his hair was raven black, it grew and curled in
the picturesque fashion of his father's, which Cheriton alone of the
other sons inherited. But he had the splendid black liquid eyes, with
blue whites, and slender arched eyebrows of his Spanish mother, and
possessed a picturesque foreign beauty that seemed to group the
fair-haired brothers into a commonplace herd. He had a grave, impassive
face, and held his head up with an air suggestive of Spanish grandees.
It was very difficult to make conversation when they went in to dinner,
the more so as Alvar evidently did not easily follow rapid English, and
either he was bewildered by new impressions, or not very open to them,
for he had not much to say about his journey. Cheriton, as he tried to
talk as if there was no perplexing stranger present, could not help
wondering whether all that was so strange to himself came with any
familiarity to his father. Had he known what his son would be like?
Could he touch any chord to which Alvar could find a response? Had eyes
like those great rolling black ones ever looked love into his own? And
if so, was it all forgotten, or was the remembrance distasteful?
"He was older than I am now," thought Cherry. "Surely the thoughts of
to-day could never fade away entirely."
Mr Lester uttered no word that betrayed any knowledge of his son's
country. He spoke less than usual, and after due inquiries for Alvar's
relations, entirely on local matters; Alvar volunteered few remarks, but
as the dessert appeared, he turned to Cherry, who sat beside him, and
said,--
"Is it not now the custom to smoke?"
"Not at dinner," said Cherry hurriedly, as his father replied,--
"Certainly not," and all the bright blue eyes round the table stared at
Alvar, who for the first time coloured, and said,--
"Pardon, I have transgressed."
"We'll go and have a pipe presently," said Cherry; and oh! how ardently
he longed for that terrible evening to be over.
"It was a _horrid_ Christmas Eve," muttered Nettie to Bob; and perhaps
her father thought so too, for he rang the bell early for prayers.
"What is this?" said Alvar, looking puzzled, as a prayer-book was placed
before him.
"We're going to have prayers," said Nettie, rather pertly. "Don't you?"
"Ah, it is a custom," said Alvar, and he took the book, and stood and
knelt as they did, evidently matching for his cue.
When this ceremony was over, Bob and Nettie rushed off, evidently to
escape saying good-night, and Cheriton invited the stranger to come and
smoke with him, conducting him to a little smoking-room downstairs,
which was only used for visitors, as the boys generally smoked in a room
at the top of the house, into which Cherry knew Bob and Jack would
greatly resent any intrusion. Mr Lester walked off with a general
good-night. Alvar watched Cherry kiss his grandmother, but contented
himself with a bow. Jack discreetly retired, and when Cheriton had
ascertained that Alvar never smoked a pipe, but only a cigar or a
cigarette, and had made him sit down by the fire, Alvar said,--
"My father is then a member of the clerical party?"
"I don't think I quite understand you," said Cherry.
"Your prayers--he is religious?"
"Oh, most people have prayers--I don't think we're more particular than
others. My father and Mr Ellesmere, our rector, are friends,
naturally," said Cherry, feeling it very difficult to explain himself.
"My grandfather," said Alvar, "is indifferent."
"But--you're a Protestant, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes. I have been so instructed. But I do not interest myself in
the subject."
Cheriton had heard many odd things at Oxford said about religion, but
never anything to equal the _naivete_ of this avowal. He was quite
unprepared with a reply, and Alvar went on,--
"I shall of course conform. I am not an infidel; but I leave those
things to your--clergy, do you not call them?"
"Well, some people would say you were right," said Cherry, thankful that
Jack was not present to assert the inalienable right of private
judgment.
"And politics?" said Alvar; "I know about your Tories and your Whigs.
On which side do you range yourself?"
"Well, my father's a Tory and High Churchman, which I suppose is what
you mean by belonging to the clerical party; and I--if all places were
like this--I'd like things very well as they are. Jack, however, would
tell you we were going fast to destruction."
"There are then dissensions among you?"
"Oh, he'll come round to something, I dare say. But our English
politics must seem mere child's play to you."
"I have taken no part," said Alvar. "My grandfather would conform to
anything for peace, and I, you know, my brother, am in Spain an
Englishman--though a Spaniard here."
"I hope you'll be an Englishman soon."
"It is the same with marriage," said Alvar; "I have never betrothed
myself, nor has my grandfather sought to marry me. He said I must see
English ladies also. One does not always follow the heart in these
matters," he concluded rather sentimentally.
"No one would ever dream of your following anything else," said Cherry,
beginning gruffly, but half choked with amusement as he spoke.
"No? And you, you have not decided? Ah, you blush, my brother; I am
indiscreet."
"I didn't blush--at least that's nothing. Turkey-cock was my nickname
at school always," said Cherry hastily.
"I do not understand," said Alvar; and after Cherry had explained the
nature and character of turkey-cocks, he said, "But I think that was not
civil."
"Civil! It wasn't meant to be. English boys don't stand much upon
civility. But," he added, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, "if
we are rough, I hope you won't mind; the boys don't mean any harm by it.
You'll soon get used to our ways, and--and we'll do our best to make
you feel at home with us."
A sudden sense of pity for the lonely brother, a stranger in his
father's house, softened Cheriton's face and voice as he spoke, though
he felt himself to be promising a good deal.
Alvar looked at him with the curious, impassive, unembarrassed air that
distinguished him. "You are not `rough!'" he said! "you are my brother.
I am told that here you do not embrace each other. I am an Englishman,
I give you my hand."
Cheriton took the slender, oval-shaped hand, which yet closed on his
more angular one, with a firm, vigorous grasp.
"All right," he said; "you'd better ask me if you don't know what to do.
And now I think you must be tired. I'll show you your room. I hope
you won't mind the cold much; I am sorry it's so frosty."
"Oh, the cold is absolutely detestable, but I am not tired," said Alvar
briskly.
It was more than Cheriton could say, as he shut this perplexing brother
into the best bedroom, which he could not associate with anything but a
state visit. He felt oppressed with a sense of past and future
responsibility, of distaste which he knew was mild compared to what
every other member of his family would experience, of contempt, and
kindliness and pity, and, running through all, the exceeding
ludicrousness, from an Oakby point of view, of some of Alvar's remarks.
This latter ingredient in his perplexity was strengthened, when he got
upstairs, by Jack, who, detecting his dispirited look, proceeded to
encourage him by remarking solemnly,--
"Well, I consider it a great family misfortune. Dispositions and habits
that are entirely incongruous can't be expected to agree."
"Do shut up, Jack; you're not writing an essay. Now I see where Alvar's
turn for speechifying comes from; you get it somehow from the same
stock! All I know is, it's too bad to be down on a fellow when he's
cast on our hands like this. Now I am going to bed, I'm tired to death;
and if we're late on Christmas morning, we shall never hear the last of
it."
While the young brothers thus discussed this strange disturber of their
accustomed life, their father's thoughts were still more perplexing. He
had so long put aside the unwelcome thought of his eldest son that he
felt inclined to regard his presence with incredulity. Surely this
dark, stately stranger could have no concern with his beloved homestead
with its surrounding moors and fells. This boy had never ridden by his
side, nor taken his first shots from his gun, nor differed from him
about the management of his estate.
Oakby, with all its duties and pleasures, had no connexion with him; and
with Oakby Mr Lester had for many years felt himself to be wholly
identified. But those dark eyes, those slow, soft accents, that air so
strange to his sons, awoke memories of another self. He saw Cheriton's
puzzled attempt at understanding the strange brother. But this strange
son was _not_ strange to him. He knew the very turns of expression that
Alvar's imperfect English suggested. For the first time for years the
Spanish idioms and Spanish words came back to his memory. He could have
so talked as to set his son in accordance with his surroundings, he
understood, to his own surprise, exactly where this very new shoe would
pinch.
But these memories, though fresh and living, were utterly distasteful,
and nothing that cost him pain awoke in Mr Lester's mind any answering
tenderness. He was a man with a weak will, a careful conscience, and
imperfectly controlled temper and affections.
He much preferred to do right than to do wrong, and he generally did do
right; in this one crucial instance he had neglected and slurred over
the right thing for years, and now he was not sufficiently accustomed to
question himself to realise how far he could have made amends for past
neglect, how far he could now make his son fit for the heirship of which
he neither could nor would deprive him. No, Alvar was a painful sight
to him, therefore he would continue to ignore him as far as possible.
He stood in the beloved Cheriton's light, and therefore all the small
difficulties that his incongruous presence caused would be left to
Cheriton to set to rights, or not be set to rights at all.
It was pleasant, and it was not very difficult to Mr Lester, as he woke
in the light of the Christmas dawn, to turn his mind from Alvar's
presence to the many duties that the season demanded of him. The
children all woke up curious and half-unfriendly. Cheriton wondered
what Alvar was thinking of. But they none of them knew to what thoughts
or feelings the pealing, crashing Christmas bells awoke the unknown
heir.
"Nay, you'll know no more what he's after than if he was yonder
picture," said the grandmother in answer to some remarks, and as
Cheriton heard him coming down stairs he felt that this was exactly the
state of the case.