Isaac Thornycroft's Stratagem.
A still evening in October. The red light in the west, following on a
glorious sunset, threw its last rays athwart the sea; the evening star
came out in its brightness; the fishing boats were bearing steadily
for home.
Captain Copp's parlour was alight with a ruddy glow; not of the sun
but of the fire. It shone brightly on the captain's face, at rest now.
He had put down his pipe on the hearth, after carefully knocking the
smouldering ashes out, and gone quietly to sleep, his wooden leg laid
fiat on an opposite chair, his other leg stretched over it. Mrs. Copp
sat knitting a stocking by fire-light, her gentle face rather
thoughtful; and, half-kneeling, half-sitting on the hearth-rug,
reading, was Anna Chester.
She was here still. When Mary Anne Thornycroft returned to school
after the summer holidays, Captain Copp had resolutely avowed Anna
should stay with him. What was six weeks, he fiercely demanded, to get
up a lady's health: let her stop six months, and then he'd see about
it. Mrs. Copp hardly knew what to say, between her wish to keep Anna
and her fear of putting the Miss Jupps to an inconvenience.
"Inconvenience be shot!" politely rejoined the captain; and Mary Anne
Thornycroft went back without her, bearing an explanatory and
deprecatory letter.
It almost seemed to the girl that the delighted beating of her
heart--at the consciousness of staying longer in the place that
contained _him_--must be a guilty joy,--guilty because it was
concealed. Certainly not from herself might come the first news of her
engagement to Isaac Thornycroft: she was far too humble, too timid, to
make the announcement. Truth to say, she only half believed in it: it
seemed too blissful to be true. While Isaac did not proclaim it, she
was quite content to let it rest a secret from the whole world. And so
the months had gone on; Anna living in her paradise of happiness;
Isaac making love to her privately in very fervent tenderness.
In saying to Anna Chester that his family would be only too glad to
see him married, Isaac Thornycroft (and a doubt that it might prove so
lay dimly in his mind when he said it) found that he had reckoned
without his host. At the first intimation of his possible intention,
Mr. Thornycroft and Richard rose up in arms against it. What they said
was breathed in his ear alone, earnestly, forcibly; and Isaac, who saw
how fruitless would be all pleading on his part, burst out laughing,
and let them think the whole a joke. A hasty word spoken by Richard in
his temper as he came striding out of the inner passage, caught the
ear of Mary Anne.
"Isaac, what did he mean? Surely you are not going to be married?"
"They thought I was," answered Isaac, laughing. "I married! Would
anybody have me, do you suppose, Mary Anne?"
"I think Miss Tindal would. There would be heaps of money and a good
connexion, you know, Isaac."
Miss Tindal was a strong-minded lady in spectacles, who owned to
thirty years and thirty thousand pounds. She quoted Latin, rode
straight across country after the hounds, and was moreover a baronet's
niece. A broad smile played over Isaac's lips.
"Miss Tindal's big enough to shake me. I think she would, too, on
provocation. She can take her fences better than I can. That's not the
kind of woman I'd marry. I should like a meek one."
"A meek one!" echoed Mary Anne, wondering whether he was speaking in
derision. "What do you call a meek one?"
"A modest, gentle girl who would _not_ shake me. Such a one as--let me
see, where is there one?--as Anna Chester, say, for example."
All the scorn the words deserved seemed concentrated in Miss
Thornycroft's haughty face.
"As good marry a beggar as _her_. Why, Isaac, she is only a working
teacher--a half-boarder at school! She is not one of _us_."
He laughed off the alarm as he had done his father's and brother's a
few minutes before, the line of conduct completely disarming all
parties. She would not tolerate Miss Chester, they would not tolerate
his marriage at all: that was plain. Isaac Thornycroft did not care
openly to oppose his family, or be opposed by them: he let the subject
drop out of remembrance, and left the future to the future. But he
said not a word of this to Anna; she suspected nothing of it, and was
just as contented as he to let things take their course in silence. To
her there seemed but one possible calamity in the world; and that lay
in being separated from him.
Sitting there on the hearth-rug, in the October evening, her eyes on
the small print by the firelight, getting dim now, Anna's heart was
a-glow within her, for that evening was to be spent with Isaac
Thornycroft. A gentleman with his daughter was staying for a couple of
days at the Red Court, and Anna had been asked to go there for the
evening, and bear the young lady company.
"My dear," whispered Mrs. Copp, in the midst of her knitting, "is it
not getting late? You will have the daylight quite gone."
Anna glanced up. It was getting late; but Isaac Thornycroft had said
to her, "I shall fetch you." Still the habit of implicit obedience
was, as ever, strong upon her, and she would fain have started there
and then, in compliance with the suggestion.
"What a noise Sarah's making!"
"So she is," assented Mrs. Copp, as a noise like the bumping about of
boxes, followed by talking, grew upon their ears. Another moment, and
Sarah opened the door.
"A visitor," she announced, in an uncompromising voice, and the
captain started up, prepared to explode a little at being aroused.
Which fact Sarah was no doubt anticipating, and she spoke again.
"It is your mother, sir."
"Yes, it's me, Sam;" cried an upright wiry lady, very positive and
abrupt in manner. Her face looked as if weather-beaten, and she wore
large round tortoiseshell spectacles.
"Who's that?" she cried, sitting down on the large sofa, as Anna stood
up in her pretty silk dress, with the pink ribbons in her hair. "Who?
The daughter of the Reverend James Chester and his first wife! You are
very like your father, child, but prettier. Where's my sea-chest to
go, Sam?"
"I am truly glad to see you, dear mother," whispered Amy Copp, in her
loving way. "The best bedroom is not in order, but----"
"And can't be put in order before to-morrow," interposed Sarah, who
had no notion of being taken by storm in this way. "The luggage had
better be put in the back kitchen for to-night."
"Is there much luggage?" asked the captain.
"Nothing to speak of," said Mrs. Copp; who, being used to the
accommodation of a roomy ship, regarded quantity accordingly. Sarah
coughed.
"My biggest sea-chest, four trunks, two bandboxes, and a few odd
parcels," continued the traveller. "I am going to spend Christmas with
some friends in London, but I thought I'd come to you first. As to the
room not being in apple-pie order, that's nothing I'm an old sailor;
I'm not particular."
"Put a pillow down here, if that's all," cried the captain, indicating
the hearthrug. "Mother has slept in many a worse berth, haven't ye,
mother?"
"Ay, lad, that I have. But now I shall want some of those boxes
unpacked to-night. I have got a set of furs for you, Amy, somewhere; I
don't know which box they were put in."
Amy was overpowered. "You are too good to me," she murmured, with
tears in her eyes.
"And I have brought you a potato-steamer; that's in another," added
Mrs. Copp. "I have taken to have mine steamed lately, Sam; you'd never
eat them again boiled if you once tried it."
In the midst of this bustle Isaac Thornycroft walked in. Anna, in a
flutter of heart-delight, but with a calm manner, went upstairs, and
came down with her bonnet on, to find Isaac opening box after box
in the back kitchen, under Mrs. Copp's direction, in search of the
furs and the potato-steamer, the captain assisting, Amy standing by.
The articles were found, and Isaac, laughing heartily in his gay
good-humour, went off with Anna.
"What time am I to fetch you, Miss Anna?" inquired Sarah, as they went
out.
"I will see Miss Chester home," answered Isaac: "you are busy
to-night."
Mrs. Copp, gazing through her tortoiseshell spectacles at the
potato-steamer, as she pointed out its beauties, suddenly turned to
another subject, and brought her glasses to bear on her son and his
wife.
"Which of the young Thornycrofts _is_ that? I forget."
"Isaac; the second son."
"To be sure; Isaac, the best and handsomest of the bunch. You must
take care," added Mrs. Copp, shrewdly.
"Take care of what?"
"They might be falling in love with each other. I don't know whether
he's much here. He is as fine a fellow as you'd see in a day's march;
and she's just the pretty gentle thing that fine men fancy."
Had it been anybody but his mother, Captain Copp would have shown his
sense of the caution in strong language. "Moonshine and rubbish,"
cried he. "Isaac Thornycroft's not the one to entangle himself with a
sweetheart; the young Thornycrofts are not marrying men; and if he
were, he would look a little higher than poor Anna Chester."
"That's just it, the reason why you should be cautious, Sam," rejoined
Mrs. Copp. "Not being suitable, there'd be no doubt a bother over it
at the Red Court."
Amy, saying something about looking to the state of the spare room,
left them in the parlour. Truth to say, the hint had scared her. Down
deep in her mind, for some short while past, had a suspicion lain that
they were rather more attached to each other than need be. She had
only hoped it was not so. She did not by any means see her way clear
to hinder it, and was content to let the half fear rest; but these
words had roused it in all its force. They had somehow brought a
conviction of the fact, and she saw trouble looming. What else could
come of it? Anna was no match for Isaac Thornycroft.
"Sam," began Mrs. Copp, when she was alone with her son, "how does Amy
continue to go on? Makes a good wife still?"
Captain Copp nodded complacently. "Never a better wife going. No
tantrums--no blowings off: knits all my stockings and woollen
jerseys."
"You must have a quiet house."
"Should, if 'twere not for Sarah. She fires off for herself and Amy
too. I'm obliged to keep her under."
"Ah," said Mrs. Copp, rubbing her chin. "Then I expect you get up some
breezes together. But she's not a bad servant, Sam."
"She's a clipper, mother--A 1; couldn't steer along without her."
What with the boxes, and what with the exactions of the spare bed-room
to render it habitable for the night, for Mrs. Copp generally chose to
put herself into everybody's business, and especially into her own,
the two ladies had to leave Captain Copp very much to his own society.
Solitude is the time for reflection, we are told, and it may have been
the cause of the captain's recurring again and again to the hint his
mother had dropped in regard to Isaac Thornycroft. That there was
nothing in it _yet_ he fully assumed, and it might be as well to take
precautions that nothing should be in it for the future. Prevention
was better than cure. Being a straightforward man, one who could not
have gone in a roundabout or cautious way to work, it occurred to the
captain to say a word to Mr. Isaac on the very first opportunity.
It was the first evening Anna had spent at the Red Court since
Miss Thornycroft left it. The walk there, the sojourn, the walk
home again by moonlight, all seemed to partake of heaven's own
happiness--perfect, pure, peaceful. There had been plenty and plenty
of opportunities for lingering together in the twilight on the heath
in coming home from the seashore, but this was the first long
legitimate walk they had taken; and considering that they were sixty
minutes over it, when they might have done it in sixteen, it cannot be
said they hurried themselves.
The captain was at the window, not looking on the broad expanse of
heath before him, but at the faint light seen now and again from
some fishing vessel cruising in the distance. It was his favourite
look-out; and, except on a boisterous or rainy night, the shutters
were rarely closed until ten o'clock.
"Come in and have a glass of grog with me," was his salutation to
Isaac Thornycroft as he and Anna came to the gate. "'Twill be a
charity," added the captain. "I'm all alone. Mother's gone up to bed
tired, and Amy's looking after her."
Isaac came in and sat down, but wanted to decline the grog. Captain
Copp was offended, so to pacify him he mixed some. As Anna held out
her hand to the captain to say good night he noticed that her soft
eyes were full of loving light; her generally delicate cheeks were a
hot crimson.
"Hope it hasn't come of kissing," thought the shrewd and somewhat
discomfited sailor.
"How well your mother wears!" observed Isaac.
"She was always tough," replied Captain Copp, in a thankful accent.
"Hope she will be for many a year to come. Look here, Mr. Isaac, I
meant to say a word to you. Don't you begin any sweethearting with
that girl of ours, or talking nonsense of that sort. It wouldn't do,
you know."
"Wouldn't it?" returned Isaac, carelessly.
"Wouldn't it! Why, bless and save my wooden leg, _would_ it? A pretty
uproar there'd be at the Red Court. I'd not have such a thing happen
for the best three-decker that was ever launched. I'd rather quarrel
with the whole of Coastdown than with your folks."
"Rather quarrel with me, captain, than with them, I suppose," returned
Isaac, stirring his grog.
Captain Copp looked hard at him. "I should think so."
By intuition, rather than by outward signs, Isaac Thornycroft saw that
the obstinate old sailor would be true to the backbone to what he
deemed _right_; that he might as well ask for Amy Copp as for Anna
Chester, unless he could produce credentials from his father. And so
he could only temporize and disarm suspicion. Honourable by nature
though he was, he considered the suppression of affairs justifiable,
on the score, we must suppose that "All stratagems are fair in love
and war."
"Good health, captain," said he, with a merry laugh--a laugh that
somehow reassured Captain Copp. "And now tell me what wonderful event
put you up to say this."
"It was mother," answered the simple-minded captain. "The thought
struck her somehow--you were both of you good-looking, she said. _I_
knew there was no danger; 'the young Thornycrofts are not marrying
men,' I said to her. But now, look here, you and Anna had not better
go out together again, lest other people should take up the same
notions."
With these words Captain Copp believed he had settled the matter, and
done all that was necessary in the way of warning. He said as much to
Amy, confidentially. Whether it might have proved so, he had not the
opportunity of judging. On the following morning that lady received a
pressing summons to repair to London. One of her sisters, staying
there temporarily, was seized with illness, and begged the captain's
wife to come and nurse her. By the next train she had started, taking
Anna.
"To be out of harm's way," she said to herself. "To help me take care
of Maria," she said to the captain.
Mrs. Wortley was a widow without children. So many events have to be
crowded in, and the story thickens so greatly, that nothing more need
be said of her. The lodgings she had been temporarily occupying were
near to old St. Pancras Church, and there Mrs. Sam Copp and Anna found
her--two brave, skilful, tender nurses, ever ready to do their best.
Never before had Anna found illness wearisome; never before thought
London the most dreary spot on earth. Ah, it was not in the locality;
it was not in the illness that the ennui lay; but in the absence of
Isaac Thornycroft. He called to see them once, rather to the chagrin
of the captain's wife, and he met Anna the same day when she went for
her walk. Mrs. Sam Copp did not suspect it.
They had been in London about a month, the invalid was better, and
Mrs. Copp began to talk of returning home again; when one dark
November morning, upon Anna's returning home from her walk--which Mrs.
Copp, remembering her past weak condition, the result of work and
confinement, insisted on her taking--Isaac Thornycroft came in with
her. He put his hat down on the table, took Mrs. Copp's hands in his,
and was entering upon some story, evidently a solemn one, when Anna
nearly startled Mrs. Copp into fits by falling at her feet with a
prayer for forgiveness, and bursting into tears.
"Oh, aunt, forgive, forgive me! Isaac over-persuaded me; he did
indeed."
"Persuaded you to what?" asked Mrs. Copp.
"To become my wife," interposed Isaac. "We were married this morning."
The first thing Mrs. Copp did was to sink into a chair, her hair
rising up on end; the next was to go into hysterics. Isaac, quiet,
calm, gentlemanly as ever, sent Anna away while he told the tale.
"I thought it the best plan," he avowed. "When I met Anna out
yesterday--by chance as she thought--I got a promise from her to meet
me again this morning, no matter what the weather might be. It turned
out a dense fog, but she came. Through the fog I got her into the
church door, and took her to the clergyman, waiting at the altar for
us, before she well knew what was going to be."
Mrs. Copp threw up her hands, and screamed, and cried, and for once in
her life called another creature deceitful--meaning Anna. But Anna--as
he hastened to explain--had not been deceitful; she had but yielded to
his strong will in the agitation and surprise of the moment.
Calculating upon this defect in her character--if it could be called a
defect, brought up as she had been--Isaac Thornycroft had made the
arrangements at St. Pancras church without saying a word to her; and,
as it really may be said, surprised her into the marriage at the time
of its taking place.
"There's the certificate," he said; "I asked the clergyman to give me
one. Put it up carefully, dear Mrs. Copp."
"To be married in this way!" moaned poor Mrs. Copp. "My husband had
liqueur glasses of rum served out in the vestry at our wedding, but
that was not half as bad as this. Not a single witness on either side
to countenance it!"
"Pardon me; my brother Cyril was present," answered Isaac. "I
telegraphed for him last night, and he reached town this morning."
Isaac Thornycroft had sent for his brother out of pure kindness to
Anna, that the ceremony might so far be countenanced. It had turned
out to be the most crafty precaution he could have taken. Seeing
Cyril, Anna never supposed but that the Thornycroft family knew of it;
otherwise, yielding though she was in spirit, she might have withstood
even Isaac. Cyril gave her away.
"And now," said Isaac, in an interval between the tears and moans, "I
am going to take Anna away with me for a week."
Little by little Mrs. Copp succeeded in comprehending Mr. Isaac's
programme. To all intents and purposes he intended this to be a
perfectly secret marriage, and to remain so until the horizon before
them should be clear of clouds. When Mrs. Copp went back home, Anna
would return with her as Miss Chester, and they must be content with
seeing each other occasionally as ordinary acquaintances.
Mrs. Copp could only stare and gasp. "Away with you for a week! and
then home again with me as Miss Chester? Oh, Mr. Isaac! you do not
consider. Suppose her good name should suffer?"
A slight frown contracted the capacious brow of Isaac Thornycroft. "Do
you not see the precautions I have taken will prevent that? On the
first breath of need my brother Cyril will come forward to testify to
the marriage, and you hold the certificate of it. Believe me, I
weighed all, and laid my plans accordingly. I chose to make Anna my
wife. It is not expedient to proclaim it just yet to the world--to
your friends or to mine; but I have done the best I could do under the
circumstances. Cyril will be true to us and keep the secret; I know
you will also."
Mrs. Sam Copp faintly protested that she should never get over the
blow. Isaac, with his sunny smile, his persuasive voice, told her she
would do so before the day was out, and saw her seal the certificate
in a large envelope and lock it up.
Then he started with his bride to a small unfrequented fishing village
in quite the opposite direction to Coastdown. And Anna had been
married some days before she knew that her marriage was a secret from
her husband's family, Cyril excepted, and to be kept one.