COUSIN ROTHERWOOD
‘We care not who says
And intends it dispraise,
That an Angler to a fool is next neighbour.’
IN the evening Lord Rotherwood renewed his entreaties to Claude to join
him on his travels. He was very much bent on taking him, for his own
pleasure depended not a little on his cousin’s company. Claude lay on
the glassy slope of the terrace, while Lord Rotherwood paced rapidly up
and down before him, persuading him with all the allurements he could
think of, and looking the picture of impatience. Lily sat by, adding her
weight to all his arguments. But Claude was almost contemptuous to all
the beauties of Germany, and all the promised sights; he scarcely gave
himself the trouble to answer his tormentors, only vouchsafing sometimes
to open his lips to say that he never meant to go to a country where
people spoke a language that sounded like cracking walnuts; that he hated
steamers; had no fancy for tumble-down castles; that it was so common to
travel; there was more distinction in staying at home; that the field of
Waterloo had been spoilt, and was not worth seeing; his ideas of glaciers
would be ruined by the reality; and he did not care to see Cologne
Cathedral till it was finished.
On this Lily set up an outcry of horror.
‘One comfort is, Lily,’ said Lord Rotherwood, ‘he does not mean it; he
did not say it from the bottom of his heart. Now, confess you did not,
Claude.’
Claude pretended to be asleep.
‘I see plainly enough,’ said the Marquis to Lily, ‘it is as Wat Greenwood
says, “Mr. Reynold and the grapes.”’
‘But it is not,’ said Lily, ‘and that is what provokes me; papa says he
is quite welcome to go if he likes, and that he thinks it will do him a
great deal of good, but that foolish boy will say nothing but “I will
think about it,” and “thank you”.’
‘Then I give him up as regularly dense.’
‘It is the most delightful plan ever thought of,’ said Lily, ‘so easily
done, and just bringing within his compass all he ever wished to see.’
‘Oh! his sole ambition is to stretch those long legs of his on the grass,
like a great vegetable marrow,’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘It is vegetating
like a plant that makes him so much taller than any rational creature
with a little animal life.’
‘I think Jane has his share of curiosity,’ said Lily, ‘I am sure I had no
idea that anything belonging to us could be so stupid.’
‘Well,’ said the Marquis, ‘I shall not go.’
‘No?’ said Lily.
‘No, I shall certainly not go.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Claude, waking from his pretended sleep, ‘why do you not
ask Travers to go with you? He would like nothing better.’
‘He is a botanist, and would bore me with looking for weeds. No, I will
have you, or stay at home.’
Claude proposed several others as companions, but Lord Rotherwood treated
them all with as much disdain as Claude had shown for Germany, and ended
with ‘Now, Claude, you know my determination, only tell me why you will
not go?’
‘Then I do tell you, Rotherwood, the truth is, that those boys, Maurice
and Reginald, are perfectly unmanageable when they are left alone with
the girls.’
‘Have a tutor for them,’ said the Marquis.
‘Very much obliged to you they would be for the suggestion,’ said Claude.
‘Oh! but Claude,’ said Lily.
‘I really cannot go. They mind no one but the Baron and me, and besides
that, it would be no small annoyance to the house; ten tutors could not
keep them from indescribable bits of mischief. I undertook them these
holidays, and I mean to keep them.’
Lilias was just flying off to her father, when Claude caught hold of her,
saying, ‘I desire you will not,’ and she stood still, looking at her
cousin in dismay.
‘It is all right,’ cried the Marquis, joyfully, ‘it is only to set off
three weeks later.’
‘Oh! I thought you would not go a week later for the universe,’ said
Claude, smiling.
‘Not for the Universe, but for U—,’ said Lord Rotherwood.
‘Worthy of a companion true, of the University of Gottingen,’ said
Claude; ‘but, Rotherwood, do you really mean that it will make no
difference to you?’
‘None whatever; I meant to spend three weeks with my mother at the end of
the tour, and I shall spend them now instead. I only talked of going
immediately, because nothing is done at all that is not done quickly, and
I hate delays, but it is all the same, and now it stands for Tuesday
three weeks. Now we shall see what he says to Cologne, Lily.’
Claude sprung up, and began talking over arrangements and possibilities
with zest, which showed what his wishes had been from the first. All was
quickly settled, and as soon as his father had given his cordial
approbation to the scheme, it was amusing to see how animated and active
Claude became, and in how different a style he talked of the once
slighted Rhine.
Lord Rotherwood told the boys that their brother was a great deal too
good for them, but they never troubled themselves to ask in what respect;
Lilias took very great delight in telling Emily of the sacrifice which he
had been willing to make, and looked forward to talking it over with
Alethea, but she refrained, as long as he was at home, as she knew it
would greatly displease him, and she had heard enough about missish
confidences.
The Marquis of Rotherwood was certainly the very reverse of his chosen
travelling companion, in the matter of activity. He made an appointment
with the two boys to get up at half-past four on Monday morning for some
fishing, before the sun was too high—Maurice not caring for the sport,
but intending to make prize of any of the ‘insect youth’ which might
prefer the sunrise for their gambols; and Reginald, in high delight at
the prospect of real fishing, something beyond his own performances with
a stick and a string, in pursuit of minnows in the ditches. Reginald was
making contrivances for tying a string round his wrist and hanging the
end of it from the window, that Andrew Grey might give it a pull as he
went by to his work, to wake him, when Lord Rotherwood exclaimed, ‘What!
cannot you wake yourself at any time you please?’
‘No,’ said Reginald, ‘I never heard of any one that could.’
‘Then I advise you to learn the art; in the meantime I will call you
to-morrow.’
Loud voices and laughter in the hall, and the front door creaking on its
hinges at sunrise, convinced the household that this was no vain boast;
before breakfast was quite over the fishermen were seen approaching the
house. Lord Rotherwood was an extraordinary figure, in an old shooting
jacket of his uncle’s, an enormous pair of fishing-boots of William’s,
and the broad-brimmed straw hat, which always hung up in the hall, and
was not claimed by any particular owner.
Maurice displayed to Jane the contents of two phials, strange little
creatures, with stranger names, of which he was as proud as Reginald of
his three fine trout. Lord Rotherwood did not appear till he had made
himself look like other people, which he did in a surprisingly short
time. He began estimating the weight of the fish, and talking at his
most rapid rate, till at last Claude said, ‘Phyllis told us just now that
you were coming back, for that she heard Cousin Rotherwood talking, and
it proved to be Jane’s old turkey cock gobbling.’
‘No bad compliment,’ said Emily, ‘for Phyllis was once known to say, on
hearing a turkey cock, “How melodiously that nightingale sings.”’
‘No, no! that was Ada,’ said Lilias.
‘I could answer for that,’ said Claude. ‘Phyllis is too familiar with
both parties to mistake their notes. Besides, she never was known to use
such a word as melodiously.’
‘Do you remember,’ said the Marquis, ‘that there was some great lawyer
who had three kinds of handwriting, one that the public could read, one
that only his clerk could read, and one that nobody could read?’
‘I suppose I am the clerk,’ said Claude, ‘unless I divide the honour with
Florence.’
‘I do not think I am unintelligible anywhere but here,’ said Lord
Rotherwood. ‘There is nothing sufficiently exciting at home, if
Grosvenor Square is to be called home.’
‘Sometimes you do it without knowing it,’ said Lily.
‘Yes,’ said Claude, ‘when you do not exactly know what you are going to
say.’
‘Then it is no bad plan,’ said Lord Rotherwood. ‘People are satisfied,
and you don’t commit yourself.’
‘I’ll tell you what, Cousin Rotherwood,’ exclaimed Phyllis, ‘your hand is
bleeding.’
‘Is it? Thank you, Phyllis, I thought I had washed it off: now do find
me some sealing-wax—India-rub her—sticking-plaster, I mean.’
‘Oh! Rotherwood,’ said Emily, ‘what a bad cut, how did it happen?’
‘Only, I am the victim to Maurice’s first essay in fishing.’
‘Just fancy what an awkward fellow Maurice is,’ said Reginald, ‘he had
but one throw, and he managed to stick the hook into Rotherwood’s hand.’
‘One of those barbed hooks? Oh! Rotherwood, how horrid!’ said Emily.
‘And he cut it out with his knife, and caught that great trout with it
directly,’ said Reginald.
‘And neither half drowned Maurice, nor sent him home again?’ asked Lily.
‘I contented myself with taking away his weapon,’ said the Marquis; ‘and
he wished for nothing better than to poke about in the gutters for
insects; it was only Redgie that teased him into the nobler sport.’
Emily was inclined to make a serious matter of the accident, but her
cousin said ten words while she said one, and by the time her first
sentence was uttered, she found him talking about his ride to Devereux
Castle.
He and Claude set out as soon as breakfast was over, and came back about
three o’clock; Claude was tired with the heat, and betook himself to the
sofa, where he fell asleep, under pretence of reading, but the
indefatigable Marquis was ready and willing to set out with Reginald and
Wat Greenwood to shoot rabbits.
Dinner-time came, and Emily sat at the drawing-room window with Claude
and Lilias, lamenting her cousin’s bad habits. ‘Nothing will ever make
him punctual,’ said she.
‘I am in duty bound to let you say nothing against him,’ said Claude.
‘It is very good-natured in him to wait for you,’ said Lily, ‘but it
would be horribly selfish to leave you behind.’
‘Delay is his great horror,’ said Claude, ‘and the wonder of his
character is, that he is not selfish. No one had ever better training
for it.’
‘He does like his own way very much,’ said Lilias.
‘Who does not?’ said Claude.
‘Nothing shows his sense so much,’ said Emily, ‘as his great attachment
to papa—the only person who ever controlled him.’
‘And to Claude—his opposite in everything,’ said Lilias.
‘I think he will tire you to death in Germany,’ said Emily.
‘Never fear,’ said Claude, ‘my _vis inertiæ_ is enough to counterbalance
any amount of restlessness.’
‘Here they come,’ said Lily; ‘how Wat Greenwood is grinning at
Rotherwood’s jokes!’
‘A happy day for Wat,’ said Emily. ‘He will be quite dejected if William
is not at home next shooting season. He thinks you a degenerate Mohun,
Claude.’
‘He must comfort himself with Redgie,’ said Claude.
‘Rotherwood is only eager about shooting in common with everything else,’
said Lily, ‘but Redgie, I fear, will care for nothing else.’
Lord Rotherwood came in, accounting for being late, as, in passing
through a harvest field, he could not help attempting to reap. The
Beechcroft farming operations had been his especial amusement from very
early days, and his plans were numerous for farming on a grand scale as
soon as he should be of age. His talk during dinner was of turnips and
wheat, till at length Mr. Mohun asked him what he thought of the
appearance of the castle. He said it was very forlorn; the rooms looked
so dreary and deserted that he could not bear to be in them, and had been
out of doors almost all the time. Indeed, he was afraid he had
disappointed the housekeeper by not complimenting her as she deserved,
for the freezing dismal order in which she kept everything. ‘And
really,’ said he, ‘I must go again to-morrow and make up for it, and
Emily, you must come with me and try to devise something to make the
unhappy place less like the abode of the Prince of the Black Islands.’
Emily willingly promised to go, and she went on talking to him, and
telling him whom he was to meet on the next day, when an unusual silence
making her look up, she beheld him more than half asleep.
Reginald fidgeted and sighed, and Maurice grew graver and graver as they
thought of the wasps. Maurice wanted to take a nest entire, and began
explaining his plan to Claude.
‘You see, Claude, burning some straw and then digging, spoils the combs,
as Wat does it; now I have got some puff-balls and sulphur to put into
the hole, and set fire to them with a lucifer match, so as to stifle the
wasps, and then dig them out quietly to-morrow morning.’
‘It is all of no use, if that Rotherwood will do nothing but sleep,’ said
Reginald, in a disconsolate tone.
‘You should not have made him get up at four,’ said Emily.
‘Who! I?’ exclaimed the Marquis. ‘I never was wider awake. What are
you waiting for, Reginald? I thought you were going to take wasps’
nests.’
‘You are much too tired, I am sure,’ said Emily.
‘Tired! not in the least, I have done nothing to-day to tire me,’ said
Lord Rotherwood, walking up and down the room to keep himself awake.
The whole party went out, and found Wat Greenwood waiting for them with a
bundle of straw, a spade, and a little gunpowder. Maurice carried a
basket containing all his preparations, on which Wat looked with supreme
contempt, telling him that his puffs were too green to make a smeech.
Maurice, not condescending to argue the point, ran on to a nest which
Reginald had marked on one of the green banks of the ancient moat.
‘Take care that the wasps are all come in; mind what you are about,
Maurice,’ called his father.
‘Master Maurice,’ shouted Wat, ‘you had better take a green bough.’
‘Never mind, Wat,’ said Lord Rotherwood, ‘he would not stay long enough
to use it if he had it.’
Reginald ran after Maurice, who had just reached the nest.
‘There is one coming in, the evening is so warm they are not quiet yet.’
‘I’ll quiet them,’ said Maurice, kneeling down, and putting his first
puff-ball into the hole.
Reginald stood by with a sly smile, as he pulled a branch off a
neighbouring filbert-tree. The next moment Maurice gave a sudden yell,
‘The wasps! the wasps!’ and jumping up, and tripping at his first step,
rolled down the bank, and landed safely at Lord Rotherwood’s feet. The
shouts of laughter were loud, but he regarded them not, and as soon as he
recovered his feet, rushed past his sisters, and never stopped till he
reached the house. Redgie stood alone, in the midst of a cloud of wasps,
beating them off with a bough, roaring with laughter, and calling Wat to
bring the straw to burn them.
‘No, no, Redgie, come away, leave them for Maurice to try again,’ said
his father.
‘The brute, he stung me,’ cried Reginald, knocking down a wasp or two as
he came down. ‘What is this?’ added he, as he stumbled over something at
the bottom of the slope. ‘Oh! Maurice’s basket; look here—laudanum—did
he mean to poison the wasps?’
‘No,’ said Jane, ‘to cure their stings.’
‘The poor unhappy quiz!’ cried Reginald.
While the others were busy over a nest, Mr. Mohun asked Emily how the boy
got at the medicine chest. Emily looked confused, and said she supposed
Jane had given him a bottle.
‘Jane is too young to be trusted there,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I thought you
knew better; do not let the key be out of your possession again.’
After a few more nests had been taken in the usual manner, they returned
to the house. Maurice was lying on the sofa reading the _Penny
Magazine_, from which he raised his eyes no more that evening, in spite
of all the jokes which flew about respecting wounded knights, courage,
and the balsam of Fierabras. He called Jane to teach her how flies were
made, and as soon as tea was over he went to bed. Reginald, after many
yawns, prepared to follow his example, and as he was wishing his sisters
good-night, Emily said, ‘Now, Redgie, do not go out at such a
preposterous hour to-morrow morning.’
‘What is that to you?’ was Reginald’s courteous inquiry.
‘I do not wish to see every one fast asleep to-morrow evening,’ said
Emily, and she looked at her cousin, whose head was far back over his
chair.
‘He is a Trojan,’ said Reginald.
‘Is a Trojan better than a Spartan?’ asked Ada, meditatively.
‘Helen thought so,’ said Claude.
‘“When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war,”’ muttered the
Marquis.
‘You are all talking Greek,’ said Jane.
‘Arabic,’ said Claude.
As far as it could be comprehended, Lord Rotherwood’s answer related to
Maurice and the wasps.
‘There,’ said Emily, ‘what is to be done if he is in that condition
to-morrow?’
‘I am not asleep; what makes you think I am?’
‘I wish you would sit in that great chair,’ said Emily, ‘I am afraid you
will break your neck; you look so uncomfortable, I cannot bear to see
you.’
‘I never was more comfortable in my life,’ said Lord Rotherwood, asleep
while finishing the sentence; but this time, happily with his elbows on
the table, and his head in a safer position.
The next day was spent rather more rationally. Lord Rotherwood met with
a book of Irish Tales, with which he became so engrossed that he did not
like to leave it when Emily and Claude were ready to ride to Devereux
Castle with him. When there he was equally eager and vehement about each
matter that came under consideration, and so many presented themselves,
that Emily began to be in agonies lest she should not be at home in time
to dress and receive her guests. They did, however, reach the house
before Lilias, who had been walking with Miss Weston, came in, and when
she went upstairs, she found Emily full of complaints at the
inconvenience of having no Rachel to assist her in dressing, and to see
that everything was in order, and that Phyllis was fit to appear when she
came down in the evening; but, by the assistance of Lily and Jane, she
got over her troubles, and when she went into the drawing-room, she was
much relieved to find her two gentlemen quite safe and dressed. She had
been in great fear of Lord Rotherwood’s straying away to join in some of
Reginald’s sports, and was grateful to the Irish book for keeping him out
of mischief.
Emily was in her glory; it was the first large dinner-party since Eleanor
had gone, and though she pitied herself for having the trouble of
entertaining the people, she really enjoyed the feeling that she now
appeared as the mistress of New Court, with her cousin, the Marquis, by
her side, to show how highly she was connected. And everything went off
just as could be wished. Lord Rotherwood talked intelligibly and
sensibly, and Mr. Mohun’s neighbour at dinner had a voice which he could
hear. Lily’s pleasure was not less than her sister’s, though of a
different kind. She delighted in thinking how well Emily did the
honours, in watching the varied expression of Lord Rotherwood’s animated
countenance, in imagining Claude’s forehead to be finer than that of any
one else, and in thinking how people must admire Reginald’s tall, active
figure, and very handsome face. She was asked to play, and did tolerably
well, but was too shy to sing, nor, indeed, was Reginald encouraging.
‘What is the use of your singing, Lily? If it was like Miss Weston’s,
now—’
Reginald had taken a great fancy to Miss Weston; he stood by her all the
evening, and afterwards let her talk to him, and then began to chatter
himself, at last becoming so confidential as to impart to her the grand
object of his ambition, which was to be taller than Claude!
The next morning Lord Rotherwood left Beechcroft, somewhat to Emily’s
relief; for though she was very proud of him, and much enjoyed the
dignity of being seen to talk familiarly with him, yet, when no strangers
were present, and he became no more than an ordinary cousin, she was
worried by his incessant activity, and desire to see, know, and do
everything as fast and as thoroughly as possible. She could not see the
use of such vehemence; she liked to take things in a moderate way, and as
Claude said, much preferred the passive to the active voice. Claude, on
the contrary, was ashamed of his constitutional indolence, looked on it
as a temptation, and struggled against it, almost envying his cousin his
unabated eagerness and untiring energy, and liking to be with him,
because no one else so effectually roused him from his habitual languor.
His indolence was, however, so much the effect of ill health, that
exertion was sometimes scarcely in his power, especially in hot weather,
and by the time his brothers’ studies were finished each day, he was
unfit for anything but to lie on the grass under the plane-tree.
The days glided on, and the holidays came to an end; Maurice spent them
in adding to his collection of insects, which, with Jane’s assistance, he
arranged very neatly; and Reginald and Phyllis performed several
exploits, more agreeable to themselves than satisfactory to the more
rational part of the New Court community. At the same time, Reginald’s
devotion to Miss Weston increased; he never moved from her side when she
sang, did not fail to be of the party when she walked with his sisters,
offered her one of his own puppies, named his little ship ‘Alethea,’ and
was even tolerably civil to Marianne.
At length the day of departure came; the boys returned to school, Claude
joined Lord Rotherwood, and the New Court was again in a state of
tranquillity.