FATHER, AND CHILD
“Tell Miss Faith, when she comes in, that I shall be glad to see her,”
said Admiral Darling to his trusty butler, one hot afternoon in August.
He had just come home from a long rough ride, to spend at least one day
in his own house, and after overhauling his correspondence, went into
the dining-room, as the coolest in the house, to refresh himself a
little with a glass of light wine before going up to dress for dinner.
There he sat in an arm-chair, and looked at his hands, which were
browned by the sun, and trembling from a long period of heavy work and
light sleep. He was getting too old to endure it with impunity, yet
angry with himself for showing it. But he was not thinking of himself
alone.
“I hope she will be sensible”--he was talking to himself, as elderly
people are apt to do, especially after being left to themselves; “I hope
she will see the folly of it--of living all her life as the bride of
a ghost; and herself such a beautiful, cheerful darling! Loving,
warm-hearted, sweet-tempered, adoring children, and adored by them;
obedient, gentle--I can't think of anything good that she hasn't got,
except common-sense. And even for that, I like her all the more; because
it is so different from all the other girls. They have got too much--one
lover out of sight, even for a month or two, gone fighting for his
Country, what do they do but take up with another, as I very greatly
fear our Dolly would? But Faith--Why, my darling, how well you look!”
“How I wish that I could say the same of you, dear father!” said the
lovely young woman, while kissing him, and smoothing with her soft hand
his wrinkled forehead; “you never used to have these little tucks and
gathers here. I would rather almost that the French should come and
devour us all, than see my father, whenever we do see him, once in a
month, say, gauffred like this--as their laundresses do it--and getting
reduced to the Classical shape, so that I can put one arm round him.”
“My darling,” said the Admiral, though proud at heart of the
considerable reduction of his stomach, “you should not say such things
to me, to remind me how very old I am!”
Fathers are crafty, and daughters childish, as behoves the both of them.
The Admiral knew, as well as if he had ordered it, what Faith would do.
And she must have perceived his depth, if only she had taken a moment to
think of it. Because when she plumped, like a child, into his arms, how
came his arms to be so wide open? and when two great tears rolled down
her cheeks, how sprang his handkerchief so impromptu out from beneath
his braided lappet?
“Tell me what harm I have done,” she asked, with a bright smile dawning
through the dew of her dark eyes; “what have I done to vex you, father,
that you say things fit to make me cry? And yet I ought to laugh,
because I know so well that you are only fishing for compliments. You
are getting so active that I shall be frightened to go for a walk or
a ride with you. Only I do love to see you look fat, and your darling
forehead smooth and white.”
“My dear child, I must get up my substance. This very day I begin in
earnest. Because I am to be a great man, Faith. How would you like to
have to call me 'Sir Charles'?”
“Not at all, darling; except when you deserve it, by being cross to me;
and that never, never happens. I wish there was more chance of it.”
“Well, dear, if you won't, the other people must; for His Majesty has
been graciously pleased to turn me into a Baronet. He says that I have
earned it; and perhaps I have; at any rate, he put it so nicely that
without being churlish I could not refuse. And it will be a good thing
for Frank, I hope, by bringing him back from his democratic stuff. To
myself it is useless; but my children ought to like it.”
“And so they will, father, for your own dear sake. Let me be the first
to salute you, father. Oh, Dolly will be in such a rage because you told
me, without telling her!”
“I never thought of that,” said the Admiral, simply; “I am afraid that
I shall get in for it. However, I have a right to please myself, and you
need not tell her until I do. But that is not all my news, and not by
any means the best of it. The King was reminded, the other day, of all
that he and his family owe to the late Sir Edmond Scudamore, and better
late than never, he has ordered your governess, as he called her, to be
put on the list for a pension of 300 pounds a year. Nothing that once
gets into his head can ever be got out of it, and he was shocked at
seeing his old physician's widow 'gone out as a governess--gone out as
a governess--great disgrace to the royal family!' I am very glad that it
happened so.”
“And so am I. She ought to have had it long and long ago, especially
after the sad misfortune of her husband. You will let me tell her? It
will be such a pleasure.”
“Certainly, my dear; you are the very one to do it. Tell her that her
eldest pupil is come with a little piece of news for her; it will make
her smile--she has a very pretty smile, which reminds me of the
gallant Blyth. And now, my child, the third piece of news concerns
yourself--your good, and dutiful, and exceedingly sensible self. Ahem!”
cried the Admiral, as he always did, when he feared that he might have
overstepped the truth.
“I know what it is; you need not tell me,” Faith answered, confirming
her fear at once. “It is no use, father; it is no good at all--unless
you intend to forget your own promise.”
“That I shall never do,” he replied, while looking at her sadly; “no, my
dear child, I shall never attempt to drive instead of lead you. But you
have not heard me out as yet. You don't even know who it is I mean.”
“Oh yes, I do; I know well enough, father. I am not like Dolly,
universally admired. Because I do not want to be. You mean Lord
Dashville--can you tell me that you don't?”
“No, my dear”--Sir Charles was a little surprised that Faith should be
so quick, for (like most people of gentle nature) she was taken to
be slow, because she never snapped--“I cannot deny that it is Lord
Dashville, because that is the man, and no other. But how you could tell
surpasses me, and it shows that he must be very often in your mind:”
the Admiral thought he had caught her there. “Now can you say anything
against him? Is he not honest, manly, single-minded, faithful as
yourself, I do believe, good-looking, well-bred, a Tory, and a
gentleman, certain to make any woman happy whom he loves? Can you say a
syllable against all that?”
“No,” replied Faith--a very long, slow “no,” as if she only wished she
could say something hard about him.
“Very well,” her father went on, with triumph, “and can you deny that
he is just the person you might have taken a great liking to--fallen
in love with, as they call it--if only he had come before your mind
was full of somebody else--a very fine young fellow, no doubt; but--my
darling, I won't say a word against him, only you know what I mean too
well. And are you forever to be like a nun because it has pleased the
Lord to take him from you?”
“Lord Dashville has not advanced himself in my good opinion, if he cares
for that,” said Faith, starting sideways, as a woman always does, from
the direct issue, “by going to you, when I declined to have anything
more to say to him.”
“My dear, you are unjust,” replied Sir Charles; “not purposely, I know,
for you are the most upright darling that can be, in general. But you
accuse young Dashville of what he never did. It was his good mother, the
Countess of Blankton, a most kind-hearted and lady-like person, without
any nonsense about her, who gave me the best cup of tea I ever tasted,
and spoke with the very best feeling possible. She put it so sweetly
that I only wish you could have been there to hear her.”
“Father, what is the good of it all? You hate turncoats even worse than
traitors. Would you like your daughter to be one? And when she would
seem to have turned her coat--for the ladies wear coats now, the horrid
ugly things!--for the sake of position, and title, and all that. If Lord
Dashville had been a poor man, with his own way to make in the world, a
plain Mister, there might have been more to be said for it. But to
think that I should throw over my poor darling because he will come home
without a penny, and perhaps tattoed, but at any rate turned black, for
the sake of a coronet, and a heap of gold--oh, father, I shall break
down, if you go on so!”
“My dear girl, I will not say a word to vex you. But you are famous for
common-sense, as well as every other good quality, and I would ask you
to employ just a little of it. Can you bear me to speak of your trouble,
darling?”
“Oh yes, I am so well accustomed to it now; and I know that it is
nothing compared to what thousands of people have to bear. Sometimes I
am quite ashamed of giving way to it.”
“You do not give way to it, Faith. No person can possibly say that of
you. You are my brave, unselfish, cheerful, sweet-natured, upright, and
loving child. Nobody knows, but you and I--and perhaps I know it even
more than you do--the greatness of the self-command you use, to be
pleasant and gay and agreeable, simply for the sake of those around
you.”
“Then, father,” cried Faith, who was surprised at this, for the Admiral
had never said a word about such matters, “you think, after all, that I
am--that I am almost as good as Dolly!”
“You jealous little vixen, I shall recall every word I have said in your
favour! My child, and my pride, you are not only as good as Dolly, but
my best hope is that when Dolly grows older she may be like you. Don't
cry, darling; I can't stand crying, when it comes from eyes that so
seldom do it. And now that you know what I think of you, allow me to
think a little for you. I have some right to interfere in your life; you
will allow that--won't you?”
“Father, you have all right, and a thousand times as much, because you
are so gentle about using it.”
“I calls that bad English, as Zeb Tugwell says when he doesn't want to
understand a thing. But, my pretty dear, you must remember that you
will not have a father always. Who will look after you, when I am gone,
except the Almighty?--and He does not do it, except for the few who
look after themselves. It is my duty to consider these points, and they
override sentimentality. To me it is nothing that Dashville will be
an Earl, and a man of great influence, if he keeps up his present high
character; but it is something to me that I find him modest,
truthful, not led away by phantoms, a gentleman--which is more than a
nobleman--and with his whole heart given to my dear child Faith.”
Faith sighed heavily, partly for herself, but mainly, perhaps, for the
sake of a fine heart sadly thrown away on her. “I believe he is all
that,” she said.
“In that case, what more can you have?” pursued the triumphant Admiral.
“It is one of the clearest things I ever knew, and one of the most
consistent”--consistent was a great word in those days--“as well as in
every way desirable. Consider, not yourself--which you never do--but
the state of the Country, and of Dolly. They have made me a baronet,
for being away from home nearly every night of my life; and if I had
Dashville to see to things here, I might stay away long enough to be a
lord myself, like my late middy the present Duke of Bronte.”
Faith laughed heartily. “You call me jealous! My dear father, I know
that you could have done a great deal more than Lord Nelson has, because
he learned all that he knows from you. And now who is it that really
defends the whole south coast of England against the French? Is it Lord
Nelson? He has as much as he can do to look after their fleet in the
Mediterranean. Admiral Cornwallis and Sir Charles Darling are the real
defenders of England.”
“No, my dear, you must never say that, except of course in private.
There may be some truth in it, but it would be laughed at in the present
condition of the public mind. History may do me justice; but after all
it is immaterial. A man who does his duty should be indifferent to the
opinion of the public, which begins more and more to be formed less
by fact than by the newspapers of the day. But let us return to more
important matters. You are now in a very sensible frame of mind. You see
what my wishes are about you, and how reasonable they are. I should be
so happy, my darling child, if you would consider them sensibly, and
yield some little of your romantic views. I would not ask you unless
I were sure that this man loves you as you deserve, and in his own
character deserves your love.”
“Then, father, will this content you, dear? Unless I hear something of
Erle Twemlow, to show that he is living, and still holds to me, in the
course of another twelvemonth, Lord Dashville, or anybody else, may
try--may try to take his place with me. Only I must not be worried--I
mean, I must not hear another word about it, until the time has quite
expired.”
“It is a very poor concession, Faith. Surely you might say half a year.
Consider, it is nearly three years now--”
“No, papa, I should despise myself if I were so unjust to one so
unlucky. And I only go so much from my own wishes because you are such a
dear and good father. Not a bit of it for Lord Dashville's sake.”
“Well, my poor darling,” the Admiral replied, for he saw that she was
upon the brink of tears, and might hate Lord Dashville if further urged,
“half a loaf is better than no bread. If Dashville is worthy of your
constant heart, he will stand this long trial of his constancy. This is
the tenth day of August, 1804. I hope that the Lord may be pleased to
spare me till the 10th of August, 1805. High time for them to come and
lay the cloth. I am as hungry as a hunter.”