NEITHER AT HOME
Though Admiral Darling had not deigned to speak to his younger daughter
about that vile anonymous charge, he was not always quite comfortable
in his inner mind concerning it. More than once he thought of asking
Faith's opinion, for he knew her good sense and discretion; but even
this was repugnant to him, and might give her the idea that he cherished
low suspicions. And then he was called from home again, being occupied
among other things with a vain enquiry about the recent false alarm.
For Carne and Charron had managed too well, and judged too correctly the
character of Vickers, to afford any chance of discovery. So that, when
the Admiral came home again, his calm and--in its fair state--gentle
nature was ruffled by the prosperity of the wicked.
“Oh, he is a fine judge of poetry, is he?” he said, more sarcastically
than his wont; “that means, I suppose, that he admires yours, Frank.
Remember what Nelson said about you. The longer I live, the more I find
his views confirmed.”
“Papa, you are too bad! You are come home cross!” cried Dolly, who
always took Frank's part now. “What does my godfather know of poetry,
indeed? If he ever had any ear for it, the guns would have ruined it
long ago.”
“No mostacchio in my house!” said the master, without heeding her. “I
believe that is the correct way to pronounce the filthy thing--a foreign
abomination altogether. Who could keep his lips clean, with that dirt
over them? A more tolerant man than myself never lived--a great deal too
tolerant, as everybody knows. But I'll never tolerate a son of mine in
disgusting French hairiness of that sort.”
“Papa, you are come home as cross as a bear!” cried Dolly, presuming on
her favour. “Lord Dashville was here the other day with a very nice one,
and I hear that all Cavalry Officers mean to have one, when they can.
And Mr. Carne, Frank's friend, encourages it.”
“The less you have to say about that young man, the better. And the less
he has to say to any child of mine, the better, both for him and her, I
say. I know that the age is turned upside down. But I'll not have that
sort of thing at my table.”
When a kind and indulgent father breaks forth thus, the result is
consternation, followed by anxiety about his health. Faith glanced at
Dolly, who was looking quite bewildered, and the two girls withdrew
without a word. Johnny was already gone to visit Captain Stubbard, with
whose eldest daughter Maggie and the cannons of the battery he was by
this time desperately in love; and poor Frank was left to have it out
with the angry father.
“I very seldom speak harshly, my boy,” said the Admiral, drawing near
his son gradually, for his wrath (like good vegetables) was very short
of staple; “and when I do so you may feel quite certain that there is
sound reason at the bottom of it”--here he looked as if his depth was
unfathomable. “It is not only that I am not myself, because of the many
hours spent upon hard leather, and vile chalks of flint that go by me
half asleep, when I ought to be snoring in the feathers; neither has it
anything to do with my consuming the hide of some quadruped for dinner,
instead of meat. And the bread is made of rye, if of any grain at all;
I rather think of spent tan, kneaded up with tallow ends, such as I have
seen cast by in bushels, when the times were good. And every loaf of
that costs two shillings--one for me, and one for Government. They all
seem to acknowledge that I can put up with that; and I make a strict
point of mild language, which enables them to do it again with me.
And all up and down the roads, everybody likes me. But if I was shot
to-morrow, would they care twopence?”
“I am sure they would, sir; and a good deal more than that,” answered
Frank, who perceived that his father was out of his usual lines of
thinking, perhaps because he had just had a good dinner--so ill do we
digest our mercies. “I am sure that there is nobody in Sussex, Kent, or
Hampshire who does not admire and respect and trust you.”
“I dare say, and rejoice to see me do the work they ought to do. They
have long nights in bed, every one of them, and they get their meals
when they want them. I am not at all astonished at what Nelson said. He
is younger than I am by a good many years, but he seems to have picked
up more than I have, in the way of common sentiments, and such like.
'You may do everybody's work, if you are fool enough,' he said to me the
last time I saw him; 'and ease them of their souls as well, if you are
rogue enough, as they do in the Popish countries. I am nearly sick of
doing it,' he said, and he looked it. 'If you once begin with it, you
must go on.' I find it more true every day of my life. Don't interrupt
me; don't go on with comfortable stuff about doing good, and one's duty
towards one's Country--though I fear that you think very little of that.
If I thought I had done good enough to make up for my back-aches, and
three fine stumps lost through chewing patriotic sentiments, why, of
course I should be thankful, and make the best of my reward. But charity
begins at home, my boy, and one's shirt should be considered before
one's cloak. A man's family is the nearest piece of his country, and the
dearest one.”
“I am sure, sir, I hope,” replied Frank, who had never heard his father
talk like this before, “that nothing is going on amiss with us here.
When you are away, I keep a sharp lookout. And if I saw anything going
wrong, I should let you know of it immediately.”
“No doubt you would; but you are much too soft. You are quite as
easygoing as I used to be at your age”--here the Admiral looked as if
he felt himself to be uncommonly hard-going now--“and that sort of thing
will not do in these days. For my own discomforts I care nothing. I
could live on lobscouse, or soap and bully, for a year, and thank God
for getting more than I deserved. But my children, Frank, are very
different. From me you would never hear a grumble, or a syllable of
anything but perfect satisfaction, so long as I felt that I was doing
good work, and having it appreciated. And all my old comrades have just
the same feeling. But you, who come after us, are not like that. You
must have everything made to fit you, instead of making yourselves fit
them. The result will be, I have very little doubt, the downfall of
England in the scale of nations. I was talking to my old friend St.
Vincent last week, and he most heartily agreed with me. However, I don't
mean to blame you, Frank. You cannot help your unfortunate nature for
stringing ends of words together that happen to sound alike. Johnny will
make a fine Officer, not in the Navy, but of Artillery--Stubbard says
that he has the rarest eyes he ever came across in one so young, and he
wishes he could put them into his Bob's head. He shall not go back to
Harrow; he can spell his own name, which seems to be all they teach them
there, instead of fine scholarship, such as I obtained at Winton. But to
spell his own name is quite enough for a soldier. In the Navy we always
were better educated. Johnny shall go to Chatham, when his togs are
ready. I settled all about it in London, last week. Nothing hurts him.
He is water-proof and thunder-proof. Toss him up anyhow, he falls upon
his feet. But that sort of nature very seldom goes up high. But you,
Frank, you might have done some good, without that nasty twist of
yours for writing and for rhyming, which is a sure indication of spinal
complaint. Don't interrupt me; I speak from long experience. Things
might be worse, and I ought to be thankful. None of my children will
ever disgrace me. At the same time, things would go on better if I were
able to be more at home. That Caryl Carne, for instance, what does he
come here for?”
“Well, sir, he has only been here twice. And it took a long time to
persuade him at all. He said that as you had not called upon him, he
felt that he might be intruding here. And Faith, who is sometimes very
spiteful, bowed, as much as to say that he had better wait. But Dolly,
who is very kind-hearted, assured him that she had heard you say at
least a dozen times: 'Be sure that I call upon Mr. Carne to-day. What
will he think of my neglect? But I hope that he will set it down to the
right cause--the perpetual demands upon my time.' And when she told him
that, he said that he would call the next day, and so he did.”
“Ah!” cried the old man, not well pleased; “it was Dolly who took that
little business off my shoulders! She might have been content with her
elder sister's judgment, in a family question of that sort. But I dare
say she thought it right to make my excuses. Very well, I'll do that for
myself. To-morrow I shall call upon that young man, unless I get another
despatch to-night. But I hear he wants nobody at his ruins. I suppose he
has not asked even you to go there?”
“No, sir; I think he took his little place here, because it would be so
painful for him to receive any friends at that tumble-down castle. He
has not yet been able to do any repairs.”
“I respect him for that,” said the Admiral, with his generous sympathies
aroused; “they have been a grand old family, though I can't say much for
those I knew--except, of course, Mrs. Twemlow. But he may be a very fine
young fellow, though a great deal too Frenchified, from all I hear. And
why my friend Twemlow cold-shoulders him so, is something of a mystery
to me. Twemlow is generally a judicious man in things that have nothing
to do with the Church. When it comes to that, he is very stiff-backed,
as I have often had to tell him. Perhaps this young man is a Papist. His
mother was, and she brought him up.”
“I am sure I don't know, sir,” answered Frank. “I should think none
the worse of him if he were, unless he allowed it to interfere with his
proper respect for liberty.”
“Liberty be hanged!” cried the Admiral; “and that's the proper end for
most of those who prate about it, when they ought to be fighting for
their Country. I shall sound him about that stuff to-morrow. If he is
one of that lot, he won't come here with my good-will, I can assure
him. What time is he generally to be found down there? He is right over
Stubbard's head, I believe, and yet friend Adam knows nothing about him.
Nor even Mrs. Adam! I should have thought that worthy pair would have
drawn any badger in the kingdom. I suppose the youth will see me, if I
call. I don't want to go round that way for nothing. I did want to have
a quiet day at home, and saunter in the garden, as the weather is so
mild, and consult poor Swipes about Spring crops, and then have a pipe
or two, and take my gun to Brown Bushes for a woodcock, or a hare, and
come home with a fine appetite to a good dinner. But I never must hope
for a bit of pleasure now.”
“You may depend upon it, sir,” said Frank, “that Caryl Carne will be
greatly pleased to see you. And I think you will agree with me that a
more straightforward and simple-minded man is not to be found in this
country. He combines what we are pleased to call our national dignity
and self-respect with the elegant manners, and fraternal warmth, and
bonhomie--as they themselves express it--of our friends across the
water.”
“You be off! I don't want to be cross any more. Two hundred thousand
friends there at this moment eager to burn down our homes and cut
our throats! Tired as I am, I ought to take a stick to you, as friend
Tugwell did to his son for much less. I have the greatest mind not to go
near that young man. I wish I had Twemlow here to talk it over. Pay your
fine for a French word, and be off!”
Frank Darling gravely laid down five shillings on his dessert plate, and
walked off. The fine for a French word in that house, and in hundreds
of other English houses at this patriotic period, was a crown for a
gentleman, and a shilling for a lady, the latter not being liable except
when gentlemen were present. The poet knew well that another word on his
part would irritate his father to such a degree that no visit would be
paid to-morrow to the admirer of the Harmodiad, whose admiration he
was longing to reward with a series of good dinners. And so he did his
utmost to ensure his father's visit.
But when the Admiral, going warily--because he was so stiff from
saddle-work--made his way down to the house of Widow Shanks, and winking
at the Royal Arms in the lower front window, where Stubbard kept Office
and convenience, knocked with the knocker at the private door, there
seemed to be a great deal of thought required before anybody came to
answer.
“Susie,” said the visitor, who had an especial knack of remembering
Christian names, which endeared him to the bearers, “I am come to see
Mr. Carne, and I hope he is at home.”
“No, that 'a bain't, sir,” the little girl made answer, after looking at
the Admiral as if he was an elephant, and wiping her nose with unwonted
diligence; “he be gone away, sir; and please, sir, mother said so.”
“Well, here's a penny for you, my dear, because you are the best little
needle-woman in the school, they tell me. Run and tell your mother to
come and see me.--Oh, Mrs. Shanks, I am very glad to see you, and so
blooming in spite of all your hard work. Ah, it is no easy thing in
these hard times to maintain a large family and keep the pot boiling.
And everything clean as a quarter-deck! My certy, you are a woman in a
thousand!”
“No, sir, no. It is all the Lord's doing. And you to the back of Him, as
I alway say. Not a penny can they make out as I owes justly, bad as I be
at the figures, Squire. Do 'e come in, and sit down, there's a dear. Ah,
I mind the time when you was like a dart, Squire!”
“Well, and now I am like a cannon-ball,” said the Admiral, who
understood and liked this unflattering talk; “only I don't travel quite
so fast as that. I scarcely get time to see any old friends. But I
came to look out for a young friend now, the gentleman you make
so comfortable upstairs. Don't I wish I was a young man without
incumbrance, to come and lodge with such a wonderful landlady!”
“Ah, if there was more of your sort, sir, there'd be a deal less trouble
in the world, there would. Not that my young gentleman is troublesome,
mind you, only so full of them outlandish furrin ways--abideth all day
long without ating ort, so different from a honest Englishman. First I
used to think as he couldn't afford it, and long to send him up a bit
of my own dinner, but dursn't for the life of me--too grand for that,
by ever so--till one day little Susie there comes a-running down
the stairs, and she sings out, with her face as red as ever a boiled
lobster: 'Looky see, mother! Oh, do 'e come and looky see! Pollyon hath
got a heap of guineas on his table; wouldn't go into the big yellow
pudding-basin!' And sure enough he had, your Honour, in piles, as if
he was telling of them. He had slipped out suddenly, and thought
the passage door was bolted. What a comfort it was to me, I can't
configurate. Because I could eat my dinner comfortable now, for such a
big heap of money never I did see.”
“I am very glad--heartily glad,” exclaimed the smiling Admiral. “I hope
he may get cash enough to buy back all the great Carne property, and
kick out those rascally Jews and lawyers. But what makes Susie call him
that?”
“Well, sir, the young ones must have a nickname for anything beyond
them; and because he never takes any notice of them--so different from
your handsome Master Frank--and some simility of his black horse, or his
proud walk, to the pictur', 'Pollyon' is the name they give him, out of
Pilgrim's Progress. Though not a bit like him, for such a gentleman to
pay his rent and keep his place untroublesome I never had before. And a
fortnight he paid me last night, afore going, and took away the keys of
all three doors.”
“He is gone, then, is he? To London, I dare say. It would be useless to
look for him at the castle. My son will be disappointed more than I am.
To tell you the truth, Mrs. Shanks, in these days the great thing is to
stick to the people that we know. The world is so full, not of rogues,
but of people who are always wanting something out of one, that to talk
with a thoroughly kind, honest person, like yourself, is a real luxury.
When the gentleman comes back, let him know that I have called.”
“And my Jenny, sir?” cried the anxious mother, running after him into
the passage; “not a word have you said about my Jenny. I hope she show
no sign of flightiness?”
“Jenny is as steady as the church,” replied the Admiral. “We are going
to put her on a pound a year from next quarter-day, by Mrs. Cloam's
advice. She'll have a good stocking by the time she gets married.”
“There never was such a pleasant gentleman, nor such a kind-hearted one,
I do believe,” said Widow Shanks, as she came in with bright eyes. “What
are they Carnes to the Darlings, after all? As different as night and
day.”
But the Admiral's next visit was not quite so pleasant; for when he got
back into the village road, expecting a nice walk to his luncheon and
his pipe, a man running furiously almost knocked him down, and had no
time to beg his pardon. The runner's hat was off his head, and his
hair blowing out, but luckily for itself his tongue was not between his
teeth.
“Has the devil got hold of you at last, Jem Prater?” the Admiral asked,
not profanely; for he had seen a good deal of mankind, and believed in
diabolical possession.
“For Parson! for Parson!” cried Jem, starting off again as hard as he
could go. “Butter Cheeseman hath hanged his self in his own scales. And
nobody is any good but Parson.”
Admiral Darling was much disturbed. “What will the world come to? I
never knew such times,” he exclaimed to himself, with some solemnity;
and then set off, as fast as his overridden state permitted, for the
house of Mr. Cheeseman. Passing through the shop, which had nobody in
it, he was led by the sound of voices into a little room beyond it--the
room in which Mr. Cheeseman had first received Caryl Carne. Here
he beheld an extraordinary scene, of which he often had to dream
thereafter.
From a beam in the roof (which had nothing to do with his scales, as Jem
Prater had imagined), by a long but not well-plaited cord, was dangling
the respected Church-warden Cheeseman. Happily for him, he had relied on
his own goods; and the rope being therefore of very bad hemp, had failed
in this sad and too practical proof. The weight of its vendor had added
to its length some fifteen inches--as he loved to pull out things--and
his toes touched the floor, which relieved him now and then.
“Why don't you cut him down, you old fools?” cried the Admiral to three
gaffers, who stood moralising, while Mrs. Cheeseman sat upon a barrel,
sobbing heavily, with both hands spread to conceal the sad sight.
“We was afraid of hurting of him,” said the quickest-witted of the
gaffers; “Us wanted to know why 'a doed it,” said the deepest; and, “The
will of the Lord must be done,” said the wisest.
After fumbling in vain for his knife, and looking round, the Admiral ran
back into the shop, and caught up the sharp steel blade with which the
victim of a troubled mind had often unsold a sold ounce in the days of
happy commerce. In a moment the Admiral had the poor Church-warden in
his sturdy arms, and with a sailor's skill had unknotted the choking
noose, and was shouting for brandy, as he kept the blue head from
falling back.
When a little of the finest eau de vie that ever was smuggled had been
administered, the patient rallied, and becoming comparatively cheerful,
was enabled to explain that “it was all a mistake altogether.” This
removed all misunderstanding; but Rector Twemlow, arriving too late
for anything but exhortation, asked a little too sternly--as everybody
felt--under what influence of the Evil One Cheeseman had committed that
mistake. The reply was worthy of an enterprising tradesman, and brought
him such orders from a score of miles around that the resources of the
establishment could only book them.
“Sir,” he said, looking at the parson sadly, with his right hand laid
upon his heart, which was feeble, and his left hand intimating that his
neck was sore, “if anything has happened that had better not have been,
it must have been by reason of the weight I give, and the value such a
deal above the prices.”