"He mustn't have so much corn, Joseph," said Mr Tiddson, parish doctor
of Croppley Magna, addressing a grinning boy of sixteen, who, with his
smock-frock rolled up and twisted round his waist, was holding the
bridle of a very thin, dejected-looking pony, whose mane and tail seemed
to have gone to the cushion-maker's, leaving in their places a few
strands that had missed the shears. The pony's eyes were half shut, and
his nose hung low; but, as if attending to his master's words, one ear
was twitched back, while the other pointed forward; and no sooner had
his owner finished speaking than the poor little beast whinnied softly
and shook its evidently remonstrating head. "He mustn't have so much
corn, Joseph," said Mr Tiddson importantly. "He's growing wild and
vicious, and it was as much as I could do this morning to hold him."
"What did he do, _zir_?" said the boy, grinning a wider grin.
"Do, Joseph? He wanted to go after the hounds, and took the bit in his
teeth, and kicked when they crossed the road. I shall have to diet him.
Give him some water, Joseph, but no corn."
The poor pony might well shake his head, for it was a standing joke in
Croppley that the doctor tried experiments on that pony: feeding him
with chaff kept in an oaty bag, and keeping him low and grey hound-like
of rib, for the sake of speed when a union patient was ill.
But the pony had to be fetched out again before Joseph had removed his
saddle; for just as Mr Tiddson was taking off his gloves and overcoat,
a man came running up to the door, and tore at the bell, panting the
while with his exertions.
"Well, what now? Is Betty Starger worse?"
"No,"--puff--"no, sir;"--puff--"it's--it's--"
"Well? Why don't you speak, man?"
"Breath, sir!"--puff. "Run--all way!--puff."
"Yes, yes," said Mr Tiddson. "And now what is it?"
"Hax--haxiden, sir," puffed the messenger.
"Bless my soul, my good man! Where?" exclaimed the doctor, rubbing his
hands.
"Down by Crossroads, sir; and they war takin' a gate off the hinges to
lay him on, and carry him to the Seven Bells, when I run for you, sir."
"And how was it?--and who is it?" said the doctor.
"Gent, sir; along o' the hounds."
"Here, stop a minute," exclaimed the doctor, ringing furiously till a
servant came. "Jane, tell Joseph to bring Peter round directly; I'm
wanted.--Now go on, my good man," he continued.
"See him comin' myself, sir. Dogs had gone over the fallows, givin'
mouth bea-u-u-tiful, when he comes--this gent, you know--full tear,
lifts his horse, clears the hedge, and drops into the lane--Rugley-lane,
you know, sir, where the cutting is, with the sand-martins' nestes in
the bank. Well, sir, he comes down nice as could be, and then put his
horse at t'other bank, as it couldn't be expected to get up, though it
did try; and then, before you know'd it, down it come back'ards, right
on to the poor gent, and rolled over him, so that when three or four on
us got up he was as white and still as your 'ankychy, sir, that he war;
and so I come off arter you. And you ain't got sech a thing as a drop
o' beer in the house, have you, sir?"
"No, my man, I have not," said Mr Tiddson, mounting his steed, which
had just been brought round to the front; "but if you will call at my
surgery when I return, I daresay I can find you a glass of something.--
Go on, Peter."
But Peter did not seem disposed to go on; and it was not until his bare
ribs had been drummed by the doctor's heels, and he had been smitten
between the ears by the doctor's umbrella, that he condescended to
shuffle off in a shambling trot--a pace that put the messenger to no
inconvenience to keep alongside, since it was only about half the rate
at which he had brought the news.
To have seen Mr., or, as he was generally called, _Dr._ Tiddson ride,
any one would have called to mind the printed form upon his medicine
labels--"To be well shaken;" for he was well shaken in the process, and
had at short intervals to push forward his hat, which made a point of
getting down over his ears. But, though not effectively, Dr Tiddson
and his pony Peter managed to shuffle over the ground, and arrived at
the Seven Bells--a little roadside inn--just as four labouring men bore
a gate to the door, and then, carefully lifting an insensible figure,
carried it into the parlour, where a mattress had been prepared by the
landlady.
Dr Tiddson did not have an accident to tend every day, while those he
did have to do with were the mishaps of very ordinary people. This,
then, was something to make him descend from his pony with the greatest
of dignity, throwing the reins to the messenger, and entering the little
parlour as if monarch of all he surveyed.
"Tut--tut--tut!" he exclaimed. "Clear the room directly; the man wants
air. Mrs Pottles, send every one out, and lock that door."
The sympathising landlady obeyed, and then the examination commenced.
"Hum!" muttered the doctor. "Ribs crushed--two, four, certainly;
probable laceration of the right lobe; concussion of the brain,
evidently. And what have we here? Dear me! A sad case, Mrs Pottles;
a fracture of the clavicle, I fear."
"Lawk a deary me! Poor gentleman! he 'ave got it bad," said the
landlady, raising her hands.
"Yes, Mrs Pottles," said the doctor, compressing his lips, "it is, I
fear, a serious case. But we must do what we can, Mrs Pottles--we must
do what we can."
"Of course we must, sir!" exclaimed the landlady. "And what shall us do
first?"
"Let me see; another pillow, I think, Mrs Pottles," said the doctor,
not heeding the question. "He will not be able to leave here for some
time to come."
Mrs Pottles sighed; and then from time to time supplied the doctor with
bandages, water, sponge, and such necessaries as he needed; when, the
patient presenting an appearance of recovering from his swoon, they
watched him attentively.
"He won't die this time, Mrs Pottles," said the doctor, with authority.
"Lawk a deary me! no, sir, I hope not," said the landlady--"a fine,
nice, handsome young fellow like he! He'll live and break some 'arts
yet, I'll be bound. It's all very well for old folks like us, sir, to
die; but I shouldn't like to see him go that-a-way--just when out taking
his pleasure, too."
Mr Tiddson did not consider himself one of the "old folks," so did not
reply.
"A poor dear!" said Mrs Pottles. "I wonder who he is? There'll be
more 'n one pair o' bright eyes wet because of his misfortun', I know.
You've no idee, sir, how like he is to my Tom--him as got into that bit
of trouble with the squire, sir."
"Pooh, woman!--not a bit. Tchsh!"
The raised finger of the doctor accompanied his ejaculation, as the
patient unclosed his eyes, muttered a little, and then, turning his
head, seemed to sink into a state of half sleep, half stupor.
The doctor sat for some time before speaking, frowning severely at the
landlady, and then impatiently pulling down the blind to get rid of half
a dozen lads, who were spoiling the symmetry of their noses against the
window.
"I s'pose you have no idea who he is?" said the doctor at last.
"Not the leastest bit in the world, sir. They do say they've had a
tremenjus run to-day. But perhaps we shall have some of the gents
coming back this way, and they may know him."
"Precisely so, Mrs Pottles; but you'd better feel in his pockets, and
we may be able to find out where his friends are, and so send them word
of his condition."
"Lawk a deary me, sir! But wouldn't it be wrong for me to be peeping
and poking in his pockets? But how so be if _you_ wish it, sir, I'll
look."
"I _don't_ wish it, Mrs Pottles; but it is our duty to acquaint his
friends, so you had better search."
Now Mrs Pottles's fingers were itching to make an examination; and
doubtless, had the doctor left, her first act would have been to "peep
and poke," as she termed it; so, taking up garment after garment, she
drew out a handsome gold watch and seal chain with an eagle crest; then
a cigar-case bearing the same crest, and the letters "C.Y.;" and lastly
a plain porte-monnaie, containing four sovereigns and some silver.
"No information there, Mrs Pottles. But I'll make a list of these, and
leave them in your charge till the patient recovers."
"Lawk a deary me, no, sir, don't do that! We're as honest as the day is
long here, sir, so don't put no temptation in our way. Make a list of
the gentleman, if you like, and leave _him_ in our charge, and we'll
nurse him well again; but you'd better take the watch and things along
of you."
"Very good, Mrs Pottles--ve-ery good," said the doctor, noting down the
articles he placed in his pocket, and thinking that, even if called upon
for no further attendance, through the coming of some family doctor, he
was safe of the amount in the porte-monnaie, for he considered that no
gentleman would dream of taking that back.
"And you think he'll get well, then, sir?" said Mrs Pottles.
"Ye-e-e-s--yes, with care, Mrs Pottles--with care. But I'll ride over
to my surgery now, and obtain a little medicine. I shall be back in an
hour."
Mrs Pottles curtsied him out, and then returned to seat herself by her
injured visitor, looking with motherly admiration on his broad white
forehead and thick golden beard, as she again compared him with her Tom,
who got into that bit of trouble with the squire. But before the doctor
had been gone an hour, the patient began to display sundry restless
movements, ending by opening his eyes widely and fixing them upon the
landlady.
"Who are you? and where am I?" he exclaimed. "Let me see, though--I
recollect now: my horse came down with me. I don't think I'm much hurt,
though."
"O, but you are, sir, and very badly, too. Mr Tiddson says you are to
be very quiet."
"Who the deuce is Mr Tiddson?" said the patient, trying to rise, but
sinking back with a groan.
"Lawk a deary me, sir! I thought everybody know'd Mr Tiddson: he's our
doctor, and they do say as he's very clever; but he ain't in rheumatiz,
for he never did me a bit o' good."
"Poor dad!" muttered the young man thoughtfully, and then aloud: "Give
me a pen and ink and a sheet of paper."
"But sewer_ly_, sir, you're not going to try to--"
"Get me the pen and ink, woman!" exclaimed the sufferer impatiently.
Mrs Pottles raised her hands, and then hurriedly placed a little dirty
blotting-case before her guest, holding it and the rusty ink so that he
was able to write a short note, which he signed, and then doubled
hastily, for he was evidently in pain.
"Let some man take that to the King's Arms at Lexville, and ask for Mr
Bray. If he is not there, let them send for him; but the note is to be
given to no one else."
"Very good, sir," said the woman; "but it's a many miles there. How's
he to go?"
"Ride--ride!" exclaimed the sufferer impatiently, and then he sank back
deeper in his pillow.
"I didn't think, or I would have sent for some one else," he muttered,
after a pause; "but I daresay he will come."
And then he lay thinking in a dreamy, semi-delirious fashion of the
contents of that note--a note so short, and yet of itself containing
matter that might bring to the writer a life of regret, and to another,
loving, gentle, and true-hearted, the breaking of that true gentle
heart, and the cold embrace of the bridegroom Death!
Volume 1, Chapter II.
"BAI JOVE!"
Three months after the incidents recorded in the last chapter,
Littleborough Station, on the Great Middleland and Conjunction Railway,
woke into life; for it was nearly noon, and the mid-day up-train would
soon run alongside of the platform, stay for the space of half a minute,
and then proceed again on its hurrying, panting course towards the great
metropolis; for though such a thing did sometimes happen, the taking up
or setting down of passengers at Littleborough was not as a matter of
course. Nobody ever wanted to come to Littleborough, which was three
miles from the station, and very few people ever seemed to take tickets
from Littleborough to proceed elsewhere: the consequence being that the
station-master--a fair young man with budding whiskers, and a little
cotton-woolly moustache--spent the greater part of his time in teaching
a rough dog to stand upon his hind-legs, to walk, beg, smoke pipes, and
perform various other highly interesting feats, while the one porter
spent his in yawning and playing "push halfpenny," right hand against
left--a species of gambling that left him neither richer nor poorer at
the day's end. But his yawning was something frightful, being extensive
enough to have startled a child into the belief that ogres really had an
existence in the flesh, though the said porter was after all but a
simple, lazy, ignorant boor, with as little of harm in his nature as
there was of activity.
But, as before said, Littleborough Station now woke into life; for after
crawling into the booking-office, and yawing frightfully at the clock,
the porter went and turned a handle, altering the position of a signal,
and then returned to find the station-master framed in the little
doorway through which he issued tickets, and now pitching little bits of
biscuit for the dog to catch.
"Here's summun a-coming!" said the porter, excitedly running to the door
and checking a yawn half-way.
"No!--is there?" cried the station-master, running out, catching up the
dog and carrying it in, to shut himself up once more behind his official
screen and railway-clerk dignity.
"Swell in a dog-cart, with groom a-drivin'," said the porter aloud; and
then, as the vehicle came nearer: "Portmanty and bag with him, and that
there gum's all dried up, and won't stick on no labels. Blest if here
ain't somebody else, too, in the 'Borough fly, and two boxes on the
top."
The porter threw open the doors very widely, the station-master tried
his ticket-stamper to see if it would work, and then peered excitedly
out for the coming travellers.
He had not to wait long. The smart dog-cart was drawn up at the door;
and as the horse stood champing its bit and throwing the white foam in
all directions, a very languid, carefully-dressed gentleman descended,
waved his hand towards his luggage and wrappers in answer to the
porter's obsequious salute, and then sauntering, cigar in hand, to the
station-master's pigeon-hole, he languidly drawled out:
"First cla-a-ass--London."
"Twenty-eight-and-six, sir," said the station-master, when the traveller
slowly placed a sovereign and a half before him.
"Tha-a-anks. No! Give the change to the porter fellare." And the new
arrival strolled on to the platform, leaving the porter grinning
furiously, and carrying the portmanteau and bag about without there
being the slightest necessity for such proceedings.
Meanwhile the fly had drawn up, the driver dismounted, and opened the
door for a closely veiled young lady in black to alight, when she
proceeded to pay the man.
"Suthin' for the driver, miss, please," said the fellow gruffly.
"I understood from your master that the charge would be five shillings
to the station," said the new arrival, in a low tremulous voice.
"Yes, miss, but the driver's allus hextry. Harf-crown most people gives
the driver."
There was no sound issued from beneath that veil, but the motion of the
dress showed that something very much like a sigh must have been
struggling for exit as a little soft white hand drew a florin from a
scantily-furnished purse, and gave it to the man.
"Humph," growled the fellow, "things gets wuss and wuss," and climbing
on to his box-seat, he gathered up reins and whip, and sat stolid and
surly without moving.
"Will you be kind enough to lift down my trunks?" said the traveller
gently.
"You must ast the porter for that 'ere," said the man: "we're drivers,
we are, and 'tain't our business. Here, Joe, come and get these here
trunks off the roof," and he accompanied his words with a meaning wink
to the porter, which gentleman, in the full possession of an unlooked--
for eighteenpence, felt so wealthy that he could afford to be
supercilious.
"What class, miss?" he said, reaching his hand to a trunk.
"Third, if you please," was the reply.
"Ah! there'll be something extry to pay for luggidge: third-class
passengers ain't allowed two big boxes like these here.--Why didn't you
put 'em down, Dick?"
"Ain't got half paid for what I did do," said the driver gruffly.
"People as can't afford to pay for flies oughter ride in carts. Mind
that 'ere lamp!"
Certainly a lamp had a very narrow escape, as trunk number one was
brought to the ground with a crash, the second one being treated almost
as mercilessly, but without a word from their owner, who quietly raising
her veil and displaying a sweet sad face, now went to the pigeon-hole,
regardless of the leering stare bestowed upon her by the exquisite, who
had sauntered back into the booking-office.
"Third-class--London," said the station-master aloud, repeating the fair
young traveller's words. "Nine-and-nine;" and he too bestowed a not
very respectful stare.
The threepence change was handed to the porter, with a request that he
would see the boxes into the van, which request, and the money, that
incorruptible gentleman received with a short nod and an "all right,"
pocketing the cash in defiance of all by-laws and ordinances of the
company.
Turning to reach the platform, the young lady--for such her manners
indicated her to be--became aware of the fixed insolent stare of the
over-dressed gentleman at her side, when quietly and without ostentation
the black fall was lowered, and she walked slowly to and fro for a few
minutes, in expectation of the coming train--hardly noticing that she
was met at every turn, and that the gentlemanly manoeuvres were being
watched with great interest by station-master and porter.
"Nice day, deah!" was suddenly drawled out; and the traveller started to
find that, in place of being met at every turn, her persecutor was now
close by her side. Quickening her steps, she slightly bent her head and
walked on; but in vain.
"Any one going to meet you?" was next drawled out; when turning shortly
round, the young traveller looked the exquisite full in the face.
"I think you are making a mistake, sir," she said coldly.
"Mistake? No, not I, my deah," was the insolent reply. "Give me your
ticket, and I'll change it;" and the speaker coolly held out a
tightly-gloved hand.
The black veil hid the flush that rose to the pale face, as, glancing
rapidly down the line for the train that seemed as if it would never
come, the traveller once more quickened her steps and walked to the
other end of the platform; for there was no waiting-room at the little
wooden station, one but newly erected by way of experiment.
"Now, don't be awkward, my deah," drawled the exquisite, once more
overtaking her. "Here we are both going to town together, and I can
take care of you. Pretty gyurls like you have no business to travel
alone. Now, let me change your ticket;" and again he stretched forth
his hand. "I'll pay, you know."
"Are you a gentleman, sir?" was the sudden question in reply to his
proposition.
"Bai Jove, ya-a-a-s!" was the drawled reply, accompanied by what was
meant for a most killing leer.
"Then you will immediately cease this unmanly pursuit!" exclaimed the
lady firmly; and once more turning, she paced along the platform.
"Now, how can you now," languidly whispered the self-styled gentleman,
"when we might be so comfortable and chatty all this long ride? Look
here, my deah--take my arm, and I'll see to your luggage."
As he spoke, with the greatest effrontery he caught the young
traveller's hand in his, and drew it through his arm--the station-master
and porter noting the performance, and nodding at one another; but the
next moment the former official changed his aspect, for the hand was
snatched away, and the young lady hurried in an agitated manner to the
booking-office.
"Have you a room in which I could sit down until the train comes?" she
exclaimed. "I am sorry to trouble you; but I am travelling alone,
and--"
"To be sure you are, my deah," drawled the persecutor, who had
laughingly followed, "when you have no business to do such a thing, and
I won't allow it. It's all right, station-master--the train will be
here directly. I'll see to the lady: friend of mine, in fact."
"Indeed! I assure you, sir," exclaimed the agitated girl, "I do not
know this gentleman. I appeal to you for protection."
Here, in spite of her self-control, a sob burst from her breast.
"Here, this sort of thing won't do, sir," said the youth, shaking his
head. "I can't allow it at my station. You mustn't annoy the lady,
sir." And turning very pink in the face, he tried to look important;
but without success.
"I think you have the care of this station, have you not, my good lad?"
drawled the exquisite.
"Yes, I have, sir," was the reply, and this time rather in anger, for
the young station-master hardly approved of being called a "good lad."
"Then mind your station, boy, and don't interfere."
"Boy yourself, you confounded puppy!" exclaimed the young fellow, firing
up. "I never took any notice till the lady appealed to me; but if she
was my sister, sir, I'd--I'd--I don't know what I wouldn't do to you!"
"But you see she is not your sister; and you are making a fool of
yourself," drawled the other contemptuously.
"Am I?" exclaimed the young man, whose better nature was aroused. "I
consider that every lady who is being insulted is the sister of an
Englishman, and has a right to his help. And now be off out of this
office, for I'm master here; and you may report me if you like, for I
don't care who you are, nor yet if I lose my place."
Red in the face, and strutting like a turkey-cock, the young man made at
the dandy so fiercely, that he backed out on to the platform, to have
the door banged after him so energetically, that one of the panes of
glass was shivered to atoms.
"Come in here, miss, and I'll see that he don't annoy you again. Why
didn't you speak sooner? Only wish I was going up to London, I'd see
you safe home, that I would, miss; only, you see, I should lose my berth
if I was absent without leave; and that wouldn't do, would it? May
p'r'aps now, for that chap's a regular swell: come down here last week,
and been staying at old Sir Henry Warr's, at the Beeches; but I don't
care; I only did what was right--did I, miss?"
"Indeed, I thank you very, very much!" exclaimed the protected one,
holding out a little hand, which was eagerly seized. "It was very kind;
and I do sincerely hope I may not have been the cause--"
Here a sob choked further utterance.
"Don't you mind about that," said the young man loftily, and feeling
very exultant and self-satisfied. "I'd lose half a dozen berths to
please you, miss--I would, 'pon my word. Don't you take on about that.
I'm your humble servant to command; and let's see if he'll speak to you
again on my platform, that's all!"
Here the young man--very young man--breathed hard, stared hard, and
blushed; for his anger having somewhat evaporated, he now began to think
that he had been very chivalrous, and that he had fallen in love with
this beautiful girl, whom it was his duty to protect evermore: feelings,
however, not at all shared by the lady, who, though very grateful, was
most earnestly wishing herself safely at her destination. The
embarrassing position was, however, ended by the young station-master,
who suddenly exclaimed:
"Here she comes!"
Then he led the way, pulling up his collar and scowling very fiercely
till they reached the platform, where the exquisite was languidly pacing
up and down.
"Now, you take my advice, miss," said the protector: "you jump into the
first cab as soon as you get into the terminus, and have yourself driven
home: I'll see that you ain't interfered with going up. I wish I was
going with you; and, 'pon my word, miss, I should like to see you
again."
"Indeed, I thank you very much," said the stranger. "You have acted
very nobly; and though you may never again be thanked by me, you will
have the reward of knowing that you have protected a _sister_ in
distress."
She laid a stress upon the word "sister," as if referring to the young
fellow's manly reply to the dandy. But now "she"--that is to say, the
train--had glided up, when, turning smartly--
"See those boxes in, Joe!" exclaimed the station-master; and then
catching the traveller's hand in his, he led her to the guard. "Put
this young lady in a compartment where there's more ladies," he said.
"She's going to London, and I want you to see that she's safely off in a
cab when she gets there. She's my sister."
"All right, Mr Simpkin--all right," said the guard.
"Good-bye, miss--good-bye!" exclaimed the young man confusedly, shaking
her hand. "Business, you know--I must go."
Just at that moment a thought seemed to have struck the dandy, who made
as if to get to where the porter was thrusting the two canvas-covered
trunks into the guard's van; but he was too late.
"Now, then, sir, if you're going on!" exclaimed the station-master.
"Third-class?" he asked by way of a sneer.
"Confound you! I'll serve you out for this--bai Jove I will!" muttered
the over-dressed one, jumping hastily into a first-class _coupe_, when,
looking out, he had the satisfaction of seeing the young station-master
spring on to the step of a third-class carriage, and ride far beyond the
end of the platform, before he jumped down and waved him a triumphant
salute as the train swept by.
The dandy made a point of going up to that carriage at every stopping--
station where sufficient time was afforded; but the fair young traveller
sat with her face studiously turned towards the opposite window.
"I've a good mind to ride third-class for once in a way," the gentleman
muttered, as he passed the carriage during one stoppage.
Just then a child cried out loudly; and a soldier, smoking a dirty black
pipe, thrust his head out of the next compartment with a "How are you,
matey?"
"Bai Jove, no! Couldn't do it!" murmured the exquisite, with a shudder;
and he returned to his seat, to look angry and scowling for the rest of
the journey.
He had made up his mind, though, as to his proceedings when they reached
London; but again he was doomed to disappointment; for on his
approaching the object of his pursuit in the crowd, he found the stout
guard a guard indeed in his care of his charge; when, angrily turning
upon his heel, he made his way to the luggage-bar, where, singling out
the particular trunks that he had seen at Littleborough, he pressed
through the throng, and eagerly read one of the direction-labels.
"Bai Jove!" he exclaimed, with an air of the most utter astonishment
overspreading his face; and then again he read the direction, but only
again to give utterance to his former ejaculation--"Bai Jove!"
He seemed so utterly taken aback that he did not even turn angrily upon
a porter who jostled him, or upon another who with one of the very boxes
knocked his hat over his eyes. The cab was laden and driven off before
his face so slowly that, once more alone, he could have easily spoken to
the veiled occupant. But, no: he was so utterly astounded that when he
hailed a hansom, and slowly stepped in, his reply to the driver as he
peered down through the little trap was only--
"Bai Jove!"
"Where to, sir?" said the man, astonished in his turn.
"Anywhere, my good fellow."
"All right, sir."
"No, no--stop. Drive me to the Wyndgate Club, Saint James's-square."
"All right, sir."
And the cab drove off, with its occupant wondering and startled at the
strange fashion in which every-day affairs will sometimes shape
themselves, proving again and again how much more wild the truth can be
than fiction, and musing upon what kind of an encounter his would be
with the fair traveller when next he went home.
There was no record kept of the number of times the over-dressed
gentleman gave utterance to that peculiarly-drawling exclamation; but it
is certain that he startled his valet by jumping up suddenly at early
morn from a dream of his encounter, to cry, as if disturbed by something
almost painful:
"Who could have thought it? Bai Jove!"
Volume 1, Chapter III.