Volume 2, Chapter I.
"A PRETTY KETTLE OF FISH!"
Imagine the unexpected arrival of the murdered Duncan's wraith at
Macbeth's correct little dinner party, just after the soup had been
removed--a break-down of the Prima Donna at the Opera, while executing
some grand _scena_--or, in these High Church days of fashionable
banns-publishing, the sudden uprising of some stern parent or
Nemisitical Mawworm, to interrupt the glib utterance of the
hair-parted-down-the-middle and lavender-kid-gloved curate of the period
with the solemn veto, in basso profundo voice, "I forbid the banns!"--
and you will have some idea of the alteration and effect which the young
imp's mischief created in the programme of Lady Inskip's pic-nic.
The whole company soon hurried after the doctor in real alarm;
even Captain Curry Cucumber, forgetting his liver, and the
not-fit-for-much-exertion officers, their lisp and laziness, were in a
few moments on the scene of the accident: whither too, Laura presently
appeared, leaning on Pringle's arm; for she honestly was nervous, and
had been really frightened.
It was a very dramatic _pose_.
Tom was lying on the ground, half-supported in Lizzie's arms, a red
stream of blood trickling down from his right side, while Doctor Jolly
was bending over him, dashing water in his face.
It is wonderful how much more composed in scenes of suffering and danger
women are than men, that is when their services are required. Tell a
girl that a man is shot or someone drowned, and she will immediately,
perhaps, burst into tears, and wail and ring her hands; but tell her to
hold his head up, or fetch water--only to do something, and she will be
as composed as you please, and will set about doing the work far more
steadily and usefully--in a workmanlike manner, so to speak--than you
could get any man to do it.
Women are all nurses and sick-attendants at heart: there are more
Florence Nightingale's among us than we know of, until time and occasion
draws them out of seclusion, and displays them in their true colours.
Here was Lizzie, who a moment before had been crying, wringing her hands
and inclined to faint, now as composed as possible, although very pale
and tearful, just because the doctor had employed her services, and
showed her how to be useful.
"Bless my soul! little girl; don't stop crying there. Hold his head up,
while I get some water." And Lizzie had raised Tom's head as tenderly
as if it had been a piece of Sevres china, and moved it on to her lap,
while her arm passed round him. She did not mind his weight a bit, and
could have thus supported him all day without feeling tired, although
Tom was pretty heavy. Love lightens loads wonderfully!
The doctor bustled off down to the river's brink, and quickly fetched
back some water in his smart new white hat; he did not mind that,
however, for he would at any time sacrifice anything he had to give ease
or pleasure to another.
By the time the others came up, Tom opened his eyes, and looked dreamily
around.
"Hullo! what's the row? where am I?"
"Bless my soul! you're a nice fellow you are, alarming us all like this.
Do you feel better now? Where's the pain? Does that hurt you, eh! or
that?" said the doctor, who had removed Tom's waistcoat, and was poking
him about in the side with his fat fore-finger.
"Ugh!" ejaculated Tom, as Aesculapius bore rather heavily on a tender
spot in his ribs, but he took no further notice of his enquiries, for he
was gazing up into Lizzie's anxious face; unless you take a murmured
"Lizzie, my darling," spoken so softly that only one person heard it, as
an answer to the doctor's questions.
"Speak, you young rascal! You can speak well enough; I heard you, you
rogue. Bless my soul! I heard you."
Tom laughed faintly, and a little pink colour came into Lizzie's face.
"I'm all right, doctor, thanks. I'll be well in a minute." He made an
effort to rise, as the others gathered around, and a perfect gabble of
questions without answers ensued. "I'm all right;" but his head fell
back again in Lizzie's lap, and a dead-like pallor once more overspread
his face.
Tom's actions belied his words. He was not by any means all right. Two
of his ribs were broken by the heavy shot, nearly the size of slugs,
that the young imp, Sir Mortimer had loaded his gun with; and if Tom had
been hit on the left side, it would have been a case of _requiescat in
pace_ for him and all his troubles. As it was, he would be laid up for
some time, perhaps for months.
The doctor saw this, and interrupted the old campaigner, as she was
saying for Lizzie's especial benefit, in her honeyed accents, which had
a concealed sting beneath them--"How very sad! What a very charming
picture; but if I were a young girl--"
"We would try and make ourselves useful? Bless my soul! my lady, we
must try and get him home. Here, one of you," he said, turning to the
males, who stood aloof looking at one another, and doing nothing, in the
manner customary to them on such occasions--"run up to the cottage where
the carriages are left--"
Three or four immediately started off, without an idea of what they were
about.
"Stop!" shouted the doctor, "what are you going for? Ask for a door,
mind you; take one off the hinges, by Gad! if you can't get it any other
way; and steal a mattress and some pillows! Lay them inside the largest
of the pony carriages, and bring it down here as quick as you can.
Bless my soul! and don't walk as if your legs did not belong to you!"
whereupon all, with the exception of the Reverend Jabez Heavieman and
the Indian warrior, hied them off on the errand, although one or two
could have easily performed the service. The ladies, however, still
grouped themselves in picturesque attitudes round the wounded man, and
gazed on him as if he were a rare geological specimen, to be inspected
scientifically. "Ah! he moves," said one; "I think he raised his arm,"
put in Aliquis; "He breathes! he breathes!" exclaimed Lady Inskip, with
tragic joy, such as the "heavy old lady" of the piece admirably puts on
when she throws her arms round the villain's neck, and putting her chin
on his left shoulder, gives vent to the agonised words--"My chee-ild! my
chee-ild!"
The doctor, however, was too full of common sense to make any allowance
for heroics.
"Move aside, can't ye?" he shouted out stentorially, "move aside, can't
ye? and let the poor fellow have some air. It's enough to stifle him,
all of you sticking around like this, doing nothing, and preventing a
breath of wind from coming past your krinlins! The poor chap wants air;
and he must have it!" And the doctor, rising up, and stretching out his
hands, like street acrobats when they wish to clear a space for their
performance amidst the encircling crowd, the ladies retreated, headed by
the campaigner, who held her nose in the air, as if the whole thing was
"much beneath her," leaving the doctor and his patient, and Miss Lizzie,
for awhile to themselves. Only the young imp remained behind to gaze
with eyes of curiosity on his handiwork, until the doctor sent him to
the right-about, by asking him the pertinent question, "What the doose
are you stopping for? By Gad! don't you think you've done enough for
one day?" when he, too, drew on one side, and left the trio alone.
After a few moments' pause, by dint of having repeated handfuls of water
dashed into his face, Tom again revived and opened his eyes.
Shortly he looked much better, and was able to answer the doctor's
enquiries. He raised himself half up, turning over on his left
side--"Oh, yes, doctor, I'm nearly all right. By Jove! though, don't
that hurt," he said, as our friend still continued to examine him--"I'll
soon be right, won't I, doctor? Thank you, but don't press so hard!
And thank you," he said, turning his eyes round and upon her--"my
darling"--he murmured, softly, "what a trouble I am to you." But,
strange to say, Lizzie did not look as if she thought it a trouble at
all!
The doctor was plunged in deep thought, "Humph! very serious, very
serious," he exclaimed, shaking his head solemnly, at the same time with
a sly twinkle in his eyes--"Very serious, very serious, Master Tom.
You've got two ribs smashed, sir, and I think you want to have another.
Ha! Ha! Sly dog, sly dog. Never mind, it's a beautiful contusion!
Luckily it wasn't the other side, or we would have had your heart gone."
"I'm afraid it's gone already, doctor," observed the wounded hero,
gazing artfully round at Lizzie, who looked very conscious, "but shall I
be able to get round soon?" and he tried to get up, but fell back again
into his former position, and looked as if he were going to faint.
"Oh, don't move, pray don't move," Lizzie said, laying her hand on his
shoulder entreatingly: Tom seized that opportunity to make the little
hand a prisoner. Very interesting, was it not, for the old campaigner,
who was looking on grimly from a distance?
"Don't budge, you young rascal; don't you stir, or we'll have you
fainting again, and looking interesting, like my lady, yonder," and the
doctor sniggered, for his eyes were sharp, and, I believe, he had
fathomed the campaigner's little game--"Don't stir, my boy. You must
keep quiet now, but we'll have you on your legs again in a few days."
The biggest of the pony carriages, accompanied by a band of gentlemen
followers, now drew up in the glen, close to the gnarled old oak, by the
stump of which the unlucky object of young Sir Mortimer's gun practice
was reclining.
Doctor Jolly inspected the vehicle to see whether all his directions had
been obeyed; and, finding an old door laid across the seats, on which
was a mattress and a bundle of pillows, he said, "That's right, boys.
Now bear a hand, and we'll get him in."
Supported by the brawny Aesculapius, and the offered arms of a score of
others, Tom was lifted carefully into the chaise, and arranged
comfortably amidst the pillows.
"Now," said the doctor aloud, for the benefit of the company,
apparently, but in reality, I think, for little Lizzie's sake, "I want
some lady to go along with us, to hold his head up, and carry the
salts--I want smelling salts, too--or a vinaigrette, or something of
that sort."
All the ladies eagerly proffered help, but they were headed by Lady
Inskip, who exclaimed--
"Here's my darling child Carry, who is so anxious, and will be so glad
to go:" a dozen fair hands also held up gorgeous little silver-topped
vinaigrettes.
The doctor looked upon them all reflectively.
"Humph!" he said, sententiously, "I don't think any of you will do. I
shall take Miss Pringle here; she's undertaken the case, and she may as
well complete the cure."
The campaigner looked fearfully disgusted. She turned to Pringle, B.A.,
and said, as if speaking confidentially to them, but for the express
benefit of the doctor and Lizzie, as she spoke so that all might hear
her--
"Of course I would not like to interfere with a medical man, Mr
Pringle; but do you think it is quite correct for a young girl like your
sister to go off in that way with a young man without any chaperone?"
"No indeed, Lady Inskip--no, indeed, Lady Inskip. Of course you know
best; ah! and ah! Lizzie--"
"Bless my soul!" said the doctor, excitedly, "I don't see why Miss
Lizzie cannot go just as properly as your daughter, my lady! It's all
nonsense, and she shall go!" And the doctor, without asking anybody's
leave or license, at once handed Lizzie into the pony carriage by the
side of Tom. Getting in himself, and telling the campaigner cordially
"Good-day, my lady! good-day," he drove off triumphantly, although
slowly, out from the glade, in and out of the trees, on to the road, and
so slowly homeward to The Poplars, with our wounded hero lying back in
Lizzie's arm--a very different plight to the gallant turn-out in which
Tom had set out so hopefully in the morning for Lady Inskip's _fete
champetre_.
The campaigner was certainly defeated to some extent, but she was not
discomfited. Oh! dear, no. She had secured one of her birds--Pringle--
at all events, for he was as devoted as she could wish to Laura; and as
for the other, although he had been brought down, winged is the word--so
unfortunately by the young imp, still, all was not lost there yet--she
had only to act, and it would run hard, so she thought, if she did not
succeed in throwing on one side "that artful little minx."
She now bethought herself of her company. The day was far spent, and
she was not going to let the whole thing break up in such an
unsatisfactory manner. She was too knowing for that; consequently she
threw cold water on the manifest sympathy for Tom.
"Pooh!" she said, "it's not much. The doctor said he would be well in a
day or two, it's only a mere scratch!"
Of course several joined in with her, and followed suit. When
Lieutenant Harrowby ventured to suggest that it "must be very painful,
you know, ba-iey Jo-ve!" he was caught up at once by the choleric
Captain Curry Cucumber, "Nice soldier you are, my fine fellow! to think
so much of a mere flea-bite--a mere flea-bite. By Jingo! when I was at
Rhamdaghur--" And he was going to retail some of his East-Indian
reminiscences, when he was adroitly stopped by the campaigner's
suggesting that they should return to the festal board, which all
thereupon did, sitting down again with much gusto to the remnants of the
feast.
The evening waxed on, and then they packed up, and sallied homewards.
It is wonderful what a little break the absence or injury of one makes
in a large party. The proverb, "out of sight, out of mind," is true
enough, although it contradicts that other veracious proverb, which
tells us that "absence makes the heart grow fonder!"
Pringle and the young officers finished the evening very agreeably with
the Inskip girls at their residence, the former not agitating himself
much about his sister, "of whom," the campaigner observed, "she was sure
Doctor Jolly would take every care, notwithstanding his rudeness to
her!" So everything went well with Lady Inskip, and the pic-nic was
voted a success, although Captain Curry Cucumber dubbed her "an infernal
old harridan, by Jingo!" and wished he had had her "out at Rhamdaghur,
by Gad!" and he would have taught her how to "insult an army-man, by
Jingo!" in taking no notice of him, while she "could pamper a civilian,
by Gad!"--alluding, we very much fear, to the Revd. Herbert Pringle, to
whom the campaigner had been really very ingratiating. If only that
accident had not happened, who knows what other success might not have
fallen to her share! But Lady Inskip had the satisfaction that night of
boxing Mortimer's ears.
As the pony carriage drove very slowly, it was evening, nearly night, by
the time Tom and his companions arrived at The Poplars: the house was
wrapped in gloomy silence.
The doctor jumped down quickly, and Lizzie after him, when she took the
opportunity of saying to him, quickly, "I will wait here, doctor, until
you come out, and do tell me then how he is!" She wished Tom good-bye,
and walked on, apparently home to the parsonage, but she waited at the
corner, and peeped back to see him carried in; after which she shrunk
into the shades again to the garden-gate of The Poplars, and waited
patiently for the doctor to come out.
The dowager, herself, answered the gate, outstripping "Garge" in getting
there first. The doctor, having rapidly explained matters, and told her
not to be alarmed, she spoke up at once sharply to the point.
"Here's a pretty kettle of fish!" she said. "I'm a woman, Doctor Jolly;
but I'm not a fool, and you won't find me crying like an idiot!"
Whereupon the orders were given to George, who looked on with stolid
wonder and grief, and between them they carried Tom into the house and
laid him on his bed, where the doctor saw him tranquilly composed, and
told him cheerily he would be all right to-morrow.
"Here's a pretty kettle of fish!" said the dowager, half to herself, in
a muttering tone. "Here's Thomas wounded, and Susan gone away, one
doesn't know where!"
"What! Susan gone?" enquired the doctor anxiously.
"Drat it all, man! It doesn't matter. I was only bothering about her
being out in the garden so late; that's all!"
"Bless my soul!" said the doctor, quieting down--"you nearly frightened
me to death! But I must see about Tom now!"--and there the conversation
about the missing girl dropped.
The old lady had but just discovered the absence of the girl, and Miss
Kingscott had disclaimed any knowledge as to her whereabouts. The
fright of the dowager, however, about Tom, made her forget the other
trouble for a time, particularly as Susan had often before stopped out
late in the garden. She would not be really alarmed about her daughter
till the morning.
Now, she was in a fearful state of anxiety about Tom, although she
tried, with the dogged obstinacy of her nature, to affect indifference;
but she was heartily glad when Doctor Jolly said he would do very well,
and that he would come the first thing in the morning to see him.
It was night now, quite late; and the bright harvest moon was shining
down out of a clear blue sky with all its August fulness, marking out
every feature of the landscape with all that clearness of outline and
vivid contrast of brilliant, blueish light and dark shadow which only
moonlight gives.
Not a breath stirred the summer night. The tall, melancholy poplars
around the Hartshorne's house looked even more dismal by night than by
day, with their ungainly shapes sharply defined against the sky, and
their shadows more gloomy and eerie than those of the other trees; yet
still Lizzie leant against the gate and waited, Heaven knows how
anxiously! for Doctor Jolly's re-appearance.
The poor little thing had now been there, outside the gate, for more
than two hours; as the doctor had been long engaged hearing about
Susan's disappearance, which he also made light of, besides seeing to
Tom's comfort and arrangements when they had lifted him into his bed and
undressed him--for he was nearly helpless now.
He at length came out, however; and he had no sooner got out of the gate
than Lizzie, who was eagerly watching for him, clutched his arm, and
outspoke her dreadful anxiety, "Oh! doctor, dear doctor, is there any
hope? He looked so pale and helpless, and--and--he will die! He will
die!"
Her little wistful face looked up with such distressing enquiry into his
jovial, weather-beaten countenance, that Doctor Jolly felt his eyes grow
very hazy, and blew his nose vigorously.
"Certainly, my dear, certainly! That is, there is plenty of hope, Miss
Lizzie. Bless my soul! plenty of hope. You see, we've extracted all
the shot (Lizzie shuddered), and he's a strong and hearty young fellow,
and he'll be round again before we know where we are."
"Thank you, doctor," Lizzie said, pressing his arm: the doctor felt that
her simple words expressed more then than a hundred sentences might have
done from others.
The doctor saw her home, and cheered her up wonderfully, so that she
actually laughed before she quitted him at the parsonage gate. They
seemed to have a secret understanding about the wounded hero, although
neither had expressed it in words. Indeed, Doctor Jolly had been so
much taken up in soothing his companion, that he quite forgot to mention
anything about Susan's being missed. And all the time, the hours were
gliding by, and the chances for her recovery were becoming more and more
indefinite.
Verily! a very pretty kettle of fish.
Volume 2, Chapter II.