I don't want to say much about a sad, sad time in my life, but old
Brownsmith played so large a part in it then that I feel bound to set it
all down.
I saw very little more of George Day, for just about that time he was
sent off to another school; and I am glad to recollect that I went
little away from the invalid who used to watch me with such wistful
eyes.
I had no more lessons in swimming, but I saved up a shilling for a
particular purpose, and that was to give to Shock; but though I tried to
get near him time after time when I was in the big garden with my
mother, no sooner did I seem to be going after him than the boy went off
like some wild thing--diving in amongst the bushes, and, knowing the
garden so well, he soon got out of sight.
I did not want to send the present by anybody, for that seemed to me
like entering into explanations why I sent the money; and I knew that if
the news reached my mother's ears that I had been half-drowned, it would
come upon her like a terrible shock; and she was, I knew now, too ill to
bear anything more.
So though I was most friendly in my disposition towards Shock, and
wanted to pay him in my mild way for saving my life, he persisted in
looking upon me as an enemy, and threw clay, clods, and, so to speak,
derisive gestures, whenever we met at a distance.
"I won't run after him any more," I said to myself one day. "He's half
a wild beast, and if he wants us to be enemies, we will."
I suppose I knew a good deal for my age, as far as education went. If I
had been set to answer the questions in an examination paper I believe I
should have failed; but all the same I had learned a great deal of
French, German, and Latin, and I could write a fair hand and express
myself decently on paper. But when I sat at our window watching Shock's
wonderful activity, and recalled how splendidly he must be able to swim,
I used to feel as if I were a very inferior being, and that he was a
long way ahead of me.
As the time went on our visits to the garden used to grow less frequent;
but whenever the weather was fine and my mother felt equal to the task,
we used to go over; and towards the end old Brownsmith's big armed
Windsor chair, with its cushions, used to be set under a big quince tree
in the centre walk, just where there were most flowers, and as soon as
we had reached it the old fellow used to come down with a piece of
carpet to double up and put beneath my mother's feet.
"Used to be a bit of a spring here," he said with a nod to me; "might be
a little damp."
Then he would leave a couple of cats, "just for company like," he would
say, and then go softly away.
I did not realise it was so near when that terrible time came and I
followed my poor mother to her grave, seeing everything about me in a
strange, unnatural manner. One minute it seemed to be real; then again
as if it were all a dream. There were people about me in black, and I
was in black, but I was half stunned, listening to the words that were
said; and at last I was left almost alone, for those who were with me
stepped back a yard or two.
I was gazing down with my eyes dimmed and a strange aching feeling at my
heart, when I felt someone touch my elbow, and turning round to follow
whoever it was, I found old Brownsmith there, in his black clothes and
white neckerchief, holding an enormous bunch of white roses in his arms.
"Thought you'd like it, my lad," he said in a low husky voice. "She
used to be very fond o' my white roses, poor soul!"
As he spoke he nodded and took his great pruning-knife from his coat
pocket, opened it with his teeth, and cut the strip of sweet-scented
Russia mat. Then holding them ready in his arms he stood there while I
slowly scattered the beautiful flowers down more and more, more and
more, till the coffin was nearly covered, and instead of the black cloth
I saw beneath me the fragrant heap of flowers, and the dear, loving face
that had gazed so tenderly in mine seemed once more to be looking in my
eyes.
I held the last two roses in my hand for a moment or two, hesitating,
but I let them fall at last; and then the tears I had kept back so long
came with a rush, and I sank down on my knees sobbing as if my heart
would break.
It was one of my uncles who laid his hand upon my shoulder and made me
start as he bent over me, and said in a low, chilling voice:
"Get up, my boy; we are going back. Come!--be a man!"
I did get up in a weary, wretched way, and as I did so I looked round
after old Brownsmith, and there he was a little distance off, watching
me, it seemed. Then we went back, my relatives who were there taking
very little notice of me; and I was made the more wretched by hearing
one cousin, whom I had never seen before, say angrily that he did not
approve of that last scene being made--"such an exhibition with those
flowers."
It was about a month after that sad scene that I went over to see old
Brownsmith. I was very young, but my life with my invalid mother had, I
suppose, made me thoughtful; and though I used to sit a great deal at
the window I felt as if I had not the heart to go into the great garden,
where every path and bed would seem to bring up one of the days when
somebody used to be sitting there, watching the flowers and listening to
the birds.
I used to fancy that if I went down any of her favourite walks I should
burst out crying; and I had a horror of doing that, for the knowledge
was beginning to dawn upon me that a great change was coming over my
life, and that I must begin to think of acting like a man.
As I turned in at the gate I saw Shock at the door of one of the lofts
over the big packing-sheds. He had evidently gone up there after some
baskets, and as soon as I saw him I walked quickly in his direction; but
he darted out of sight in the loft; and if I had any idea of scaling the
ladder and going up to him to take him by storm, it was checked at once,
for a half-sieve basket--one of those flat, round affairs in which fruit
is packed--came flying out of the door, and then another and another,
one after the other, at a tremendous rate, quite sufficient to have
knocked me backwards before I was half-way up.
"A brute!" I said angrily to myself. "I'll treat him with contempt;"
and striding away I went down the garden, with the creaking, banging of
the falling baskets going on. And when I turned to look, some fifty
yards away, there was a big heap of the round wicker-work flats at the
foot of the ladder, and others kept on flying out of the door.
I had not gone far before I saw old Brownsmith busy as usual amongst his
cats; and as he rose from stooping to tie up a plant he caught sight of
me, and immediately turned down the path where I was.
He held out his great rough hand, took mine, and shook it up and down
gently for quite a minute, just as if it had been the handle of a pump.
"Seen my new pansies?" he said.