"Like a young courtier of the king's--like the king's young courtier."
In the first week of September Jack came home, and Bob also came over
from Ashrigg to assist in demolishing the partridges. The empty, lonely
house affected the spirits of the two lads in a way neither of them had
foreseen; the unoccupied drawing-room, the absence of Nettie's rapid
footsteps, the freedom from their grandmother's strictures on dress and
deportment--all seemed strange and unnatural; and when they were not
absolutely out shooting, they hung about disconsolately, and grumbled to
Cheriton over every little alteration. Jack, indeed, recovered himself
after a day or two, but he looked solemn, and intensified Cherry's sense
that things were amiss, strongly disapproving of his principle of
non-interference. He contrived, too, whether innocently or not, to ask
questions that exposed Alvar's ignorance of the names and qualities of
places and people, and betrayed delays in giving orders, misconceptions
of requirements, and many a lapse from order and method. Moreover, the
way in which some of the excellent old dependents showed their loyalty
to the old _regime_, was by doing nothing without orders. Consequently,
a hedge remained unmended till the cows got through into a plantation,
and ate the tops off the young trees,--"Mr Lester had given no order on
the subject;" and a young horse was thrown down and broke his knees
through Mr Lester desiring the wrong person to exercise him. Then, of
two candidates for a situation, Alvar often managed to choose the wrong
one, and with the sort of irritability that seemed to be growing on him,
would not put up with suggestions.
"What?" said Jack; "one of those poaching, thieving Greens taken on as
stable-boy! And Jos, too--the worst of the lot! Why, he has been in
prison twice. A nice companion for all the other lads about the place!
I saw little Sykes after him this morning. I should have thought you
would have stopped _that_, Cherry, at least!"
"I did not know of it, Jack, till too late," said Cherry quietly.
"Well," said Jack, driving his hands into his pockets and frowning
fiercely, "I don't think it's right to let such things pass without a
protest. Something will happen that cannot be undone. I don't approve
of systems by which people's welfare is thrown into the hands of a few;
but if they are--if you are those few, it's--it's more criminal than
many things of which the law takes cognisance, to neglect their
interest. It's destroying the last relics of reality, and bringing the
whole social edifice to destruction."
"What I think," said Bob, "is that if a man's a gentleman, and has been
accustomed to see things in a proper point of view, he acts
accordingly."
"A gentleman! A man's only claim to be a gentleman is that he
recognises the whole brotherhood of humanity and his duties as a human
being."
"Come, I don't know," said Bob, not quite sure where these expressions
were leading him.
"His duty to his neighbour," said Cheriton.
"You worry yourself fifty times too much about it all," said Jack, with
vehement inconsistency.
"Well, perhaps I do," said Cheriton, glad to turn the conversation.
"Come, tell me how you got on in Wales, I have never heard a word of
it."
Jack looked at him for a moment, and with something of an effort began
to talk about his reading party; but presently he warmed with the topic,
and Cherry brightened into animation at the sound of familiar names and
former interests; they began to laugh over old jokes, and quarrel over
old subjects of disputation; and they were talking fast and eagerly
against each other, with a sort of chorus from Bob, when, looking up,
Cherry suddenly saw Alvar standing before them with a letter in his
hand.
He was extremely pale, but his eyes blazed with such intensity of wrath,
he came up to them with a gesture expressive of such passion, that they
all started up; while he burst out,--
"I have to tell you that I am scorned, injured, insulted. My
grandfather has died--"
"Your grandfather, Don Guzman? Alvar, I am sorry," exclaimed Cheriton;
but Alvar interrupted him,--
"Sorrow insults me! I learn that he has made his will, that he leaves
all to Manoel, that _I_--I, his grandson--am not fit to be his heir,
`since I am a foreigner and a heretic, and unfit to be the owner of
Spanish property.'"
"That seems very unjust," said Cheriton, as Alvar paused for a moment.
"Unjust!" cried Alvar. "I am the victim of injustice. Here and there--
it is the same thing. I have been silent--yes, yes--but I will not bear
it. I will be what I please, myself--there, here, everywhere!"
"Nay, Alvar," said Cherry gently; "_here_ at least, you have met with no
injustice."
"And why?" cried Alvar, with the sudden abandonment of passion which now
and then broke through his composure. "_You_ are doubtless too
honourable to plot and scheme; but your thoughts and your wishes, are
they not the same--the same as this most false and unnatural traitor,
who has stolen from me my inheritance and my grandfather's love? What
do you wish, my brothers--wish in your hearts--would happen to the
intruder, the stranger, who takes your lands from you? Would you not
see me dead at your feet?"
"We never wished you were dead," said Bob indignantly, as Alvar walked
about the room, threw out his hands with vehement gestures, stamped his
foot, and gave way to a violence of expression that would have seemed
ludicrous to his brothers but for the fury of passion, which evidently
grew with every moment, as if the injury of years was finding vent. All
the strong temper of his father seemed roused and expressed with a rush
of vindictive passion, his southern blood and training depriving him at
once of self-consciousness and self-control.
"What matter what you wish? Am I not condemned to a life which I abhor,
to a place that is hateful to me, despised by one whose feet I would
kiss, disliked by you all, insulted by those who should be my slaves?
What is this country to me, or I to it? I care not for your laws, your
magistrates, your people--who hate me, who would shoot me if they dared.
And this--this--has lost me the place where I was as good as others. I
lose my home for this--for you who stand together and wonder at me. I
curse that villain who has robbed me; I curse the fate that has made me
doubly an outlaw; most of all, I curse my father, whose neglect--"
"Silence!" said Cheriton; "you do not speak such words in our presence."
The flood of Alvar's words, half Spanish, half English, had fairly
silenced the three brothers with amazement. Now he faced round
furiously on Cheriton,--
"I will speak--"
"You will _not_," said Cheriton, grasping his hand, and looking full in
his face. "You forget yourself, Alvar. Don't say what we could never
forget or forgive."
But Alvar flung him off with a violence and scorn that roused the two
lads to fury, and made Cheriton's own blood tingle as Jack sprang
forward,--
"I won't have that," he said, in a tone as low as Alvar's was high, but
to the full as threatening.
"I'll give you a licking if you touch my brother," shouted Bob, with a
rough, schoolboy enforcement of the threat.
"Hush!" said Cheriton; "for God's sake, stop--all of you! We are not
boys now, to threaten each other. Stop, while there is time. Stand
back, I say, Jack, and be silent!"
The whole thing had passed in half a minute; Alvar's own furious gesture
had sobered him, and he threw himself into a seat; while Cheriton's
steady voice and look controlled the two lads, and gave Jack time to
recollect himself.
There was a moment's silence. Then Alvar stood up, bowed haughtily,
like a duellist after the encounter, and walked out of the room. Jack,
after a minute, broke into an odd, harsh laugh, and, pushing open the
window, leant out of it.
"One wants air. That was a critical moment," he said.
"I'll not stand that sort of thing; I'll go back to Ashrigg; I'll not
come here again," said Bob. "What did you stop us for, Cherry, when we
were going to show him a piece of our minds?"
"I did not think anybody's mind was fit to be exhibited," said Cheriton.
"Don't begin to quarrel with me too, Bob; and do not go away to-day on
any account."
"Well!" said Bob; "if you like such a hollow peace--but I'll not shoot
his partridges, nor ride his horses; I'll go for a walk, and I shan't
come in to dinner!"
Bob flung out of the room, banging the door behind him.
At first the other two hardly spoke a word to each other. Cherry sat
down a little apart, and mechanically took up a newspaper. Jack sat in
the window, and as his heat subsided, thought over the scene that had
passed. He felt that it was more than a foolish outburst of violent
temper; it had been a revelation to themselves and to each other of a
state of feeling that it seemed to him impossible any longer to ignore.
He knew that Cheriton's presence of mind had saved them from words and
actions that might have parted them for ever; but what was the use of
pretending to get on with Alvar after such a deadly breach? Better
leave him to do the best he could in his own way, and go theirs. And
Jack's thoughts turned to his own way in the future that he hoped for,
success and congenial labour, and sweet love to brighten it. After all,
a man's early home was not everything to him. And then he looked
towards Cheriton, who had dropped his newspaper, and sat looking
dreamily before him, with a sad look of disappointment on his face.
"What are you going to do, Cherry?" said Jack.
"Do? Nothing. What can I do?" said Cherry. Then he added, "We must
not make too much of what passed to-day; let us all try and forget it.
Alvar has been ill-treated, and we are none of us so gentle as not to
know what a little additional Spanish fire might make of us."
"To be rough with you!" said Jack.
"Oh, that was accidental. It is the terrible resentment. There, I did
not mean to speak of it. Let us get out into the air, and shake it
off."
"It is too wet and cold for you," said Jack, looking out.
Cheriton flushed at the little check with an impatience that showed how
hardly the scene had borne on him.
"Nonsense; don't be fanciful," he said. "It won't hurt me--what if it
did?"
Jack followed him in silence, and as they walked Cherry talked
resolutely of other matters, though with long pauses of silence between.
In the meantime Alvar endured an agony of self-disgust. He could not
forgive himself for his loss of dignity, nor his brothers for having
witnessed it. Cheriton had conquered him, and the thought rankled so as
to obscure even the love he bore him; while all the bitter and
vindictive feelings, never recognised as sinful, took possession of him,
and held undisputed sway. He was enough of an Englishman to reject his
first impulse of rushing back to Seville and calling out his cousin and
fighting him. After all, the bitterness was here; and at dinner-time he
appeared silent and sullen in manner. Cheriton looked ill and tired,
and could hardly eat; but Alvar offered no remark on it, and the younger
boys (for Bob did come back) were shy and embarrassed. Alvar answered
when Cheriton addressed him with a sort of stiff politeness, and by the
next morning had resumed a more ordinary demeanour; but when Bob again
suggested going back to Ashrigg, Cheriton and Jack agreed that he had
better do so, only charging him not to let Nettie or their grandmother
guess at any quarrel.
"And, Cherry," Jack said, "suppose we come somewhere together for a
little while? A little sea air would do you good--and you could help me
with my reading. No one could think it strange, and I am sure you want
rest and quiet."
"No, Jack," said Cherry. "It is very good of you, my boy, but--I'll try
a little longer. Alvar and I could not come together again if I went
away now, and I'll not give up hoping that after all things may right
themselves. Think of all he has been to me. But you must do as you
think best yourself."
"I shall not leave you here without me," said Jack; "but I don't see the
use of staying."
"Well--I shall stay," said Cherry.
Alvar never alluded again to his letter from Spain; and the others were
afraid to start the subject. He was very polite to them, and together
they formed engagements, went over to Ashrigg, and led their lives in
the usual manner; but there was no real approach, and Cheriton missed
Alvar's caressing tenderness, and the tact that had always been
exercised on his behalf.
He did not, with all this worry, find as much strength to face the
coming winter as he had hoped for, and while he thought that going back
to London would put an end to the present discomfort, he believed that
he would do no good there; and would not a parting from Alvar now be a
real separation?
Alvar, meanwhile, took a fit of attending to business. He spent much
time about the place, insisted on being consulted on all subjects, and
still more on being instantly obeyed; King Log had vanished, and a very
peremptory king Stork appeared in his place. The gentle, courteous,
indifferent Alvar seemed possessed with a captious and resentful spirit
that brooked no opposition. No one had ever dared to disobey Mr
Lester's orders; but then they had been given with a due regard to
possibility, and often after consultation with those by whom they were
to be obeyed.
Alvar now proved himself to be equally determined; but he was often
ignorant of what was reasonable and of what was not, and though the
sturdy north-countrymen had given in against their inclination to their
superior, they thought it very hard to be driven against their judgment
when they were right and "t' strange squire" was wrong, or at least
innovating. Now Alvar did know something about horses, and his views of
stable management differed somewhat from those prevailing at Oakby, and
being based on the experience of a different climate and different
conditions, were not always applicable there, and could only of course
be carried, as it were, at the sword's point.
Full of this new and intense desire to feel himself master, and to prove
himself so, Alvar not unnaturally concentrated his efforts on the one
subject where he had something to say. He _could_ not lay down the law
about turnips and wheat; but he did think that he knew best how to treat
the injuries the young horse had received by his own mistaken order.
Perhaps he did; but so did not think old Bill Fisher, who had been about
the stables ever since he was twelve, and who, though past much active
work, still considered himself an authority from which there was no
appeal.
Alvar visited the horse, and desired a certain remedy to be applied to a
sprained shoulder, taking some trouble to explain how it was to be made.
Old Bill listened in an evil silence, and instead of saying that so far
as he knew one of the ingredients was unattainable at Oakby, or giving
his master an alternative, said nothing at all in reply to Alvar's
imperious--"Remember, this must be done at once;" but happening soon
after to encounter Cheriton, requested him to visit the horse, and
desired his opinion of the proper treatment.
Cheriton, ignorant of what had passed, naturally quoted the approved
remedy at Oakby, adding,--
"Why, Bill, I should have thought you would have known that for
yourself."
"Ay, no one ever heard tell of no other," muttered the old man,
proceeding to apply it with some grumbling about strangers, which
Cheriton afterwards bitterly rued having turned a deaf ear to.
The next morning Alvar went to see if his plans had been carried out,
and discovering how his orders had been disregarded, turned round, and
said sternly,--
"How have you dared to disobey me?"
"Eh, sir," said Bill, rather appalled at his master's face, "this stuffs
cured our horses these fifty year."
"You have disobeyed me," said Alvar, "and I will not suffer it. I
dismiss you from my service--you may go. I will not forgive you."
Old Bill lifted up his bent figure, and stared at his master in utter
amaze.
"I served your honour's grandfather--me and mine," he said.
"You cannot obey me. What are your wages? I will pay them--you may
go." Neither the old man himself, nor the helpers who had begun to
gather round, belonged to a race of violent words, or indeed of violent
deeds; but there was more hate in the faces that were turned on Alvar
than would have winged many an Irish bullet. All were silent, till a
little brother of Cherry's friends, the Flemings, called out, saucily
enough,--"'Twas Mr Cherry's orders."
As if stung beyond endurance, Alvar turned, caught the boy by the
shoulder, and raising his cane, struck him once, twice, several times,
with a violence of which he himself was hardly conscious.
This was the scene that met Cheriton's startled eyes as he came up to
the stable to inquire for the sick horse.
He uttered a loud exclamation of astonishment and dismay, and put his
hand on Alvar's shoulder.
Alvar, with a final blow, threw the lad away from him, and faced round
on Cheriton, drew himself up, and folded his arms, as he said,
regardless of the spectators,--
"I will not have it that you interfere with me, to alter my orders, or
to stop me in what I do. You shall not do it."
"I have never interfered with you!" cried Cheriton fiercely. "Assuredly
I never will. I--I--" He checked himself with a strong effort, and
said, very low, "We are forgetting ourselves by disputing here. If you
have anything to say to me, it can be said at a better moment."
Then, without trusting himself with a word or look, he walked slowly
away.