NO CONCERN OF OURS
The very next morning it was known to the faithful of Springhaven
that the glory of the place would be trebled that day, and its income
increased desirably. That day, the fair stranger (which had so long
awakened the admiration of the women, and the jealousy of the men) would
by the consummate skill of Captain Zeb--who had triumphed over all the
officers of the British Navy--float forth magnificently from her narrow
bed, hoist her white sails, and under British ensign salute the new
fort, and shape a course for Portsmouth. That she had stuck fast and in
danger so long was simply because the cocked hats were too proud to give
ear to the wisdom in an old otter-skin. Now Admiral Darling was baffled
and gone; and Captain Tugwell would show the world what he could do, and
what stuff his men were made of, if they only had their way. From old
Daddy Stakes, the bald father of the village, to Mrs. Caper junior's
baby--equally bald, but with a crop as sure of coming as mustard and
cress beneath his flannel--some in arms, some on legs, some upon brave
crutches, all were abroad in the soft air from the west, which had
stolen up under the stiff steel skirt of the east wind, exactly as wise
Captain Zeb predicted.
“My dear,” said Mrs. Twemlow to the solid Mrs. Stubbard, for a very
sweet friendship had sprung up between these ladies, and would last
until their interests should happen to diverge, “this will be a great
day for my dear husband's parish. Perhaps there is no other parish
in the kingdom capable of acting as Springhaven has, so obedient, so
disciplined, so faithful to their contract! I am told that they even
pulled the vessel more aground, in preference to setting up their own
opinions. I am told that as soon as the Admiral was gone--for between
you and me he is a little overbearing, with the very best intentions in
the world, but too confident in his own sagacity--then that clever but
exceedingly modest young man, Lieutenant Scudamore, was allowed at last
to listen to our great man Tugwell, who has long been the oracle of the
neighbourhood about the sea, and the weather, and all questions of that
kind. And between you and me, my dear, the poor old Admiral seems a
little bit jealous of his reputation. And what do you think he said
before he went, which shows his high opinion of his own abilities?
Tugwell said something in his rough and ready way, which, I suppose, put
his mightiness upon the high ropes, for he shouted out in everybody's
hearing, 'I'll tell you what it is, my man, if you can get her off, by
any of your'--something I must not repeat--'devices, I'll give you fifty
guineas, five-and-twenty for yourself, and the rest to be divided among
these other fellows.' Then Zebedee pulled out a Testament from his
pocket, for he is a man of deep religious convictions, and can read
almost all the easy places, though he thinks most of the hard ones, and
he made his son Dan (who is a great scholar, as they say, and a very
fine-looking youth as well) put down at the end what the Admiral had
said. Now, what do you think of that, dear Mrs. Stubbard?”
“I think,” replied that strong-minded lady, “that Tugwell is an arrant
old fox; and if he gets the fifty guineas, he will put every farthing
into his own pocket.”
“Oh, no! He is honest as the day itself. He will take his own
twenty-five, and then leave the rest to settle whether he should share
in their twenty-five. But we must be quick, or we shall lose the sight.
Quite a number of people are come from inland. How wonderfully quickly
these things spread! They came the first day, and then made up their
minds that nothing could be done, and so they stopped at home. But now,
here they are again, as if by magic! If the ship gets off, it will be
known halfway to London before nightfall. But I see Captain Stubbard
going up the hill to your charming battery. That shows implicit faith in
Tugwell, to return the salute of the fair captive! It is indeed a proud
day for Springhaven!”
“But it isn't done yet. And perhaps it won't be done. I would rather
trust officers of the navy than people who catch crabs and oysters. I
would go up to the battery, to laugh at my husband, but for the tricks
the children play me. My authority is gone, at the very first puff of
smoke. How children do delight in that vile gunpowder!”
“So they ought, in the present state of our country, with five hundred
thousand of Frenchmen coming. My dear Mrs. Stubbard, how thankful we
should be to have children who love gunpowder!”
“But not when they blow up their mother, ma'am.”
“Oh, here comes Eliza!” cried Mrs. Twemlow. “I am so glad, because she
knows everything. I thought we had missed her. My dear child, where are
Faith and Dolly Darling gone? There are so many strangers about to-day
that the better class should keep together.”
“Here are three of us at any rate,” replied the young lady, who
considered her mother old-fashioned: “enough to secure one another's
sanctity from the lower orders. Faith has gone on to the headland, with
that heroic mannikin, Johnny. Dolly was to follow, with that Shanks maid
to protect her, as soon as her hat was trimmed, or some such era. But
I'll answer for it that she loses herself in the crowd, or some fib of
that sort.”
“Eliza!” said her mother, and very severely, because Mrs. Stubbard was
present, “I am quite astonished at your talking so. You might do the
greatest injury to a very lively and harmless, but not over-prudent
girl, if any one heard you who would repeat it. We all know that the
Admiral is so wrapped up in Dolly that he lets her do many things which
a mother would forbid. But that is no concern of ours; and once for all,
if such things must be said, I beg that they may not be said by you.”
In the present age, Mrs. Twemlow would have got sharp answer. But her
daughter only looked aggrieved, and glanced at Mrs. Stubbard, as if to
say, “Well, time will show whether I deserve it.” And then they hastened
on, among the worse class, to the headland.
Not only all the fishing-smacks, and Captain Stubbard's galley, but
every boat half as sound as a hat, might now be seen near the grounded
vessel, preparing to labour or look on. And though the White Pig was
allowed to be three-quarters of a mile from the nearest point, the
mighty voice of Captain Zeb rode over the flickering breadth of sea,
and through the soft babble of the waves ashore. The wind was light
from southwest, and the warp being nearly in the same direction now, the
Blonde began to set her courses, to catch a lift of air, when the tide
should come busily working under her. And this would be the best tide
since she took the ground, last Sunday week, when the springs were going
off. As soon as the hawsers were made fast, and the shouts of Zebedee
redoubled with great strength (both of sound and of language), and the
long ropes lifted with a flash of splashes, and a creak of heavy wood,
and the cry was, “With a will! with a will, my gay lads!” every body
having a sound eye in it was gazing intently, and every heart was
fluttering, except the loveliest eyes and quickest heart in all
Springhaven.
Miss Dolly had made up her mind to go, and would have had warm words
ready for any one rash enough to try to prevent her. But a very short
note which was put into her hand about 10 A.M. distracted her.
“If you wish to do me a real service, according to your kind words of
Saturday, be in the upper shrubbery at half past eleven; but tell no one
except the bearer. You will see all that happens better there than on
the beach, and I will bring a telescope.”
Dolly knew at once who had written this, and admired it all the more
because it was followed by no signature. For years she had longed for
a bit of romance; and the common-sense of all the world irked her. She
knew as well as possible that what she ought to do was to take this
letter to her sister Faith, and be guided by her advice about it. Faith
was her elder by three years or more, and as steadfast as a rock, yet as
tender as young moss. There was no fear that Faith would ride the high
horse with her, or lay down the law severely; she was much more likely
to be too indulgent, though certain not to play with wrong.
All this the younger sister knew, and therefore resolved to eschew
that knowledge. She liked her own way, and she meant to have it, in a
harmless sort of way; her own high spirit should be her guide, and she
was old enough now to be her own judge. Mr. Carne had saved her sister's
life, when she stood up in that senseless way; and if Faith had no
gratitude, Dolly must feel, and endeavour to express it for her.
Reasoning thus, and much better than this, she was very particular about
her hat, and French pelerine of fluted lawn, and frock of pale violet
trimmed on either side with gathered muslin. Her little heart fluttered
at being drawn in, when it should have been plumped up to her neck, and
very nearly displayed to the public; but her father was stern upon some
points, and never would hear of the classic discoveries. She had not
even Grecian sandals, nor a “surprise fan” to flutter from her wrist,
nor hair oiled into flat Lesbian coils, but freedom of rich young
tresses, and of graceful figure, and taper limbs. There was no one who
could say her nay, of the lovers of maiden nature.
However, maidens must be discreet, even when most adventurous; and
so she took another maid to help her, of respected but not romantic
name--Jenny Shanks, who had brought her that letter. Jenny was much
prettier than her name, and the ground she trod on was worshipped by
many, even when her shoes were down at heel. Especially in this track
remained the finer part of Charley Bowles's heart (while the coarser
was up against the Frenchmen), as well as a good deal of Mr. Prater's
nephew's, and of several other sole-fishers. This enabled Jenny to enter
kindly into tender questions. And she fetched her Sunday bonnet down the
trap-ladder where she kept it--because the other maids were so nasty--as
soon as her letter was delivered.
“Your place, Jenny, is to go behind,” Miss Dolly said, with no small
dignity, as this zealous attendant kept step for step with her, and
swung her red arm against the lady's fair one. “I am come upon important
business, Jenny, such as you cannot understand, but may stay at a proper
distance.”
“Lor, miss, I am sure I begs your pardon. I thought it was a kind of
coorting-match, and you might be glad of my experience.”
“Such things I never do, and have no idea what you mean. I shall be much
obliged to you, Jenny, if you will hold your tongue.”
“Oh yes, miss; no fear of my telling anybody. Wild horses would never
pull a syllable out of me. The young men is so aggravating that I keep
my proper distance from them. But the mind must be made up, at one time
or other.”
Dolly looked down at her with vast contempt, which she would not lower
herself by expressing, even with favour of time and place. Then turning
a corner of the grassy walk, between ground-ash and young larches, they
came upon an opening planted round with ilex, arbutus, juniper, and
laurel, and backed by one of the rocks which form the outworks of the
valley. From a niche in this rock, like the port-hole of a ship, a rill
of sparkling water poured, and beginning to make a noise already, cut
corner's--of its own production--short, in its hurry to be a brook, and
then to help the sea. And across its exit from the rock (like a measure
of its insignificance) a very comfortable seat was fixed, so that any
gentleman--or even a lady with divided skirts--might freely sit with one
foot on either bank of this menacing but not yet very formidable stream.
So that on the whole this nook of shelter under the coronet of rock was
a favourite place for a sage cock-pheasant, or even a woodcock in wintry
weather.
Upon that bench (where the Admiral loved to sit, in the afternoon of
peace and leisure, observing with a spy-glass the manoeuvres of his
tranquil fishing fleet) Caryl Carne was sitting now, with his long and
strong legs well spread out, his shoulders comfortably settled back, and
his head cast a little on one side, as if he were trying to compute his
property. Then, as Dolly came into the opening, he arose, made a bow
beyond the compass of any true Briton, and swinging his hat, came to
meet her. Dolly made a curtsey in the style impressed upon her by her
last governess but one--a French lady of exceedingly high ancestry and
manners--and Carne recognised it as a fine thing out of date.
“Jenny, get away!” said Dolly--words not meant for him to hear, but he
had grave command of countenance.
“This lays me under one more obligation:” Carne spoke in a low voice,
and with a smile of diffidence which reminded her of Scudamore, though
the two smiles were as different as night and day. “I have taken a great
liberty in asking you to come, and that multiplies my gratitude for
your good-will. For my own sake alone I would not have dared to sue this
great favour from you, though I put it so, in terror of alarming you.
But it is for my own sake also, since anything evil to you would be
terrible to me.”
“No one can wish to hurt me,” she answered, looking up at him bravely,
and yet frightened by his gaze, “because I have never harmed any one.
And I assure you, sir, that I have many to defend me, even when my
father is gone from home.”
“It is beyond doubt. Who would not rush to do so? But it is from those
who are least suspected that the danger comes the worst. The most modest
of all gentlemen, who blushes like a damsel, or the gallant officer
devoted to his wife and children, or the simple veteran with his stars,
and scars, and downright speech--these are the people that do the wrong,
because no one believes it is in them.”
“Then which of the three is to carry me off from home, and friends, and
family--Lieutenant Scudamore, Captain Stubbard, or my own godfather,
Lord Nelson?”
This young man nourished a large contempt for the intellect of women,
and was therefore surprised at the quickness and spirit of the girl whom
he wished to terrify. A sterner tone must be used with her.
“I never deal in jokes,” he said, with a smile of sad sympathy for
those who do; “my life is one perpetual peril, and that restrains
facetiousness. But I can make allowance for those who like it.”
Miss Dolly, the pet child of the house, and all the people
round it--except the gardener, Mr. Swipes, who found her too
inquisitive--quick as she was, could not realise at once the possibility
of being looked down upon.
“I am sorry that you have to be so grave,” she said, “because it
prevents all enjoyment. But why should you be in such continual danger?
You promised to explain it, on Saturday, only you had no time then.
We are all in danger from the French, of course, if they ever should
succeed in landing. But you mean something more than that; and it seems
so hard, after all your losses, that you should not be safe from harm.”
With all her many faults--many more than she dreamed of--fair Dolly had
a warm and gentle heart, which filled her eyes with tender loveliness,
whenever it obtained command of them. Carne, who was watching them
steadfastly for his own purpose, forgot that purpose, and dropped his
dark eyes, and lost the way to tell a lie.
“If I may ask you,” he said, almost stammering, and longing without
knowledge for the blessing of her touch, “to--to allow me just to lead
you to this seat, I may perhaps be able--I will not take the liberty of
sitting at your side--but I may perhaps be able to explain as much of my
affairs as you can wish to hear of them, and a great deal more, I fear,
a great deal more, Miss Darling.”
Dolly blushed at the rich tone in which he pronounced her name, almost
as if it were an adjective; but she allowed him to take her hand,
and lead her to the bench beneath the rock. Then, regardless of his
breeches, although of fine padusoy, and his coat, though of purple
velvet, he sate down on the bank of the rill at her feet, and waited for
her to say something. The young lady loved mainly to take the lead, but
would liefer have followed suit just now.
“You have promised to tell me,” she said, very softly, and with an
unusual timidity, which added to her face and manner almost the only
charm they lacked, “some things which I do not understand, and which I
have no right to ask you of, except for your own offer. Why should you,
without injuring any one, but only having suffered loss of all your
family property, and of all your rights and comforts, and living in
that lonely place which used to be full of company--why should you be
in danger now, when you have nothing more to be robbed of? I beg your
pardon--I mean when all your enemies must have done their worst.”
“You are too young yet to understand the world,” he answered, with a
well-drawn sigh; “and I hope most truly that you may never do so. In
your gentle presence I cannot speak with bitterness, even if I could
feel it. I will not speak harshly of any one, however I may have been
treated. But you will understand that my life alone remains betwixt the
plunderers and their prey, and that my errand here prevents them from
legally swallowing up the spoil.”
Miss Dolly's idea of the law, in common with that of most young ladies,
suggested a horrible monster ravening to devour the fallen. And the fall
of the Carnes had long been a subject of romantic interest to her.
“Oh, I see!” she exclaimed, with a look of deep wisdom. “I can quite
understand a thing like that, from what I have heard about witnesses. I
hope you will be very careful. My sister owes so much to you, and so do
I.”
“You must never speak of that again, unless you wish to grieve me. I
know that I have said too much about myself; but you alone care to know
anything about me; and that beguiles one out--out of one's wits. If I
speak bad English, you will forgive me. I have passed so many years
on the Continent, and am picking up the language of my childhood
very slowly. You will pardon me, when I am misled by--by my own
signification.”
“Well done!” cried the innocent Dolly. “Now that is the very first piece
of bad English you have used, to the best of my belief, and I am rather
quick in that. But you have not yet explained to me my own danger,
though you asked me to come here for that purpose, I believe.”
“But you shall not be so; you shall not be in danger. My life shall be
given for your defence. What imports my peril compared with yours? I am
not of cold blood. I will sacrifice all. Have faith in me purely, and
all shall be done.”
“All what?” Dolly asked, with a turn of common-sense, which is the most
provoking of all things sometimes; and she looked at him steadily, to
follow up her question.
“You cannot be persuaded that you are in any danger. It is possible that
I have been too anxious. Do you speak the French language easily? Do you
comprehend it, when spoken quickly?”
“Not a word of it. I have had to learn, of course, and can pronounce
very well, my last mistress said; but I cannot make it out at all in the
way the French people pronounce it, when one comes to talk with them.”
“It is very wrong of them, and the loss is theirs. They expect us to
copy them even in their language, because we do it in everything else.
Pardon me--one moment. May I look at the great enterprise which is to
glorify Springhaven? It is more than kind of you to be here instead of
there. But this, as I ventured to say, is a far better place to observe
the operation. Your words reminded me of Captain Desportes, who has
been, I think, your father's guest. A very gallant sailor, and famed for
the most unexpected exploits. Without doubt, he would have captured all
three ships, if he had not contrived to run his own aground.”
“How could he capture his own ship? I thought that you never dealt in
jokes. But if you dislike them, you seem to be fond of a little mystery.
I like the French captain very much, and he took the trouble to speak
slowly for me. My father says that he bears his misfortune nobly, and
like a perfect gentleman. Mr. Scudamore admires him, and they are great
friends. And yet, sir, you seem inclined to hint that I am in danger
from Captain Desportes!”
“Ha! she is afloat! They have succeeded. I thought that they had so
arranged it. The brave ship spreads her pinions. How clever the people
of Springhaven are! If you will condescend to look through this glass,
you will see much embracing of the Saxon and the Gaul, or rather, I
should say, of the Saxon by the Gaul. Old Tugwell is not fond to be
embraced.”
“Oh, let me see that! I must see that!” cried Dolly, with all reserve
and caution flown; “to see Capp'en Zeb in the arms of a Frenchman--yes,
I declare, two have got him, if not three, and he puts his great back
against the mast to disentangle it. Oh, what will he do next? He has
knocked down two, in reply to excessive cordiality. What wonderful
creatures Frenchmen are! How kind it is of you to show me this! But
excuse me, Mr. Carne; there will be twenty people coming to the house
before I can get back almost. And the ship will salute the battery,
and the battery will return it. Look! there goes a great puff of smoke
already. They can see me up here, when they get to that corner.”
“But this spot is not private? I trust that I have not intruded.
Your father allows a sort of foot-path through this upper end of his
grounds?”
“Yes, to all the villagers, and you are almost one of them; there is
no right of way at all; and they very seldom come this way, because it
leads to nowhere. Faith is fond of sitting here, to watch the sea, and
think of things. And so am I--sometimes, I mean.”