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THE HOUSE ON THE MOOR.
BY
THE AUTHOR OF
"MARGARET MAITLAND," "ADAM GRAEME,"
"THE LAIRD OF NORLAW,"
&c., &c.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1861.
_The right of Translation is reserved._
LONDON:
PRINTED BY R. BORN, GLOUCESTER STREET,
REGENT'S PARK.
THE HOUSE ON THE MOOR.
CHAPTER I.
Sam returned victorious, with an Army List, and the Rector's
compliments, who would call upon Colonel Sutherland presently, in time
to wake up the excellent Colonel, who was a little amazed, and a little
amused at himself, to be made aware of that unusual indulgence. Sam had
his own word of advice and warning against the deceitful blandishments
of the "Ould Hunderd," with which he went away, flattered and ashamed,
but by no means cured of his passion for "sodgering." To the questions
of his mother, the hopeful young man only responded, that "the Cornel
said th' army was a noble perfession," and appended thereto a vow to
"break the head of that thundering 'Ould Hunderd'" at the first
opportunity, neither of which conclusions was satisfactory to Mrs.
Gilsland. The Colonel had scarcely put on his spectacles, and begun to
turn over the leaves of the professional beadroll, when the proprietor
of the same made his appearance, very cordial and anxious that the
Colonel should dine at the Rectory, where the mother and sisters of "my
boy in India" were already preparing themselves with a hundred questions
to ask the old Indian officer. Colonel Sutherland, however, had already
tasted quite enough of the damp, out-of-doors air for one day. He made
the most of his threatening rheumatism by way of apology. He was
fatigued with a long drive, and taking leave of friends. The Rector was
politely curious; he had no doubt that he had the pleasure of knowing
Colonel Sutherland's friends?
"I think not," said the Colonel, decidedly; "my brother-in-law is a
recluse, and, I fear, keeps his family in the same retirement; besides,
it is five miles off."
"Five miles is nothing in the country," said the courteous and
persistent Rector.
"My relations live at Marchmain," said Colonel Sutherland, who had still
the "Army List" in his hand--"I want to find out if the Sir John
Armitage of this neighbourhood is an old friend of mine--Captain
Armitage of the 59th--do you happen to know?"
"The very same," said the Rector; "he succeeded six or seven years ago,
but he has not been at the Park for a year back. Bad health, I believe,
an unsettled mind--he has never taken kindly to his new position; he
thinks it is his duty to marry, and is extremely nervous about it. I
thought it proper to pay him a good deal of attention when he was here.
Poor man, his anxiety about the young ladies of the neighbourhood, and
his terror of them, is something ludicrous to see."
"You are so fortunate as to have daughters of your own," said the
Colonel, without perceiving the inference, which the other, possibly
from a little disagreeable consciousness, applied instantly.
"My daughters were very young at that time," said the Rector,
quickly--"almost children; besides, there are many points in which,
though I think it right to show him attention, I do not approve of Sir
John. His opinions are not what could be desired, and the father of
daughters requires to be very careful whom he commits them to, as
perhaps you are aware, Colonel Sutherland."
Colonel Sutherland bowed very gravely; the appeal touched on griefs too
profound to be exposed to the compassion of a stranger. "He was a very
good fellow when I knew him," said the Colonel; "I hear he was on terms
of very intimate friendship with a Mr. Musgrave--he who died lately--is
that true?"
"Ah, Mr. Musgrave?--yes, I knew him very well; an unfortunate, imprudent
man, lavish and foolish," said the Rector. "He had a very good fortune
to begin with, but lived with the most entire recklessness, like a man
of three times his means. He brought up a young man, a sort of distant
relative, as his heir. Poor man, when the affairs were examined it
turned out that the heir had nothing but debt to enter upon; a very sad
business altogether. Ah, yes, to be sure, Sir John, now that I
recollect, had been to school with him, or something--there _was_ a
friendship between them."
"And does no one in the neighbourhood feel disposed to do anything for
the young man?" asked the Colonel.
"For--Roger? Well, it is a very difficult question," said the bland
Rector; "men with families of their own are so circumscribed in that
way. There are no very wealthy men in our neighbourhood; and really, no
one has felt warranted in incurring so great a responsibility. Sir John,
indeed, might have done something for him; but then he is abroad, and of
course no private individual likes to step forward, and perhaps excite
expectations which could never be realized; besides, he has, no doubt,
relatives of his own."
"And so, I presume, there is an end of him, poor fellow," said the
Colonel, with the least outbreak of impatience; "is there anything known
against the young man?"
"Nothing in the world," said the Rector, readily; "we all received him
with pleasure, and found him really an acquisition; a young man not of
much education, to be sure, but perfectly unobjectionable in a moral
point of view. I remember urging strongly upon the late Squire the
propriety of sending Roger to Cambridge, when my own boy went there, for
we had no suspicion then of his unfortunate circumstances. He would not,
sir; he was an unreasonable, old-fashioned person--what you call a John
Bull sort of man. He said his Nimrod had no occasion to be a student.
Poor man!--he would have acknowledged the wisdom of my counsels had he
been living now."
"Is the young man, then, a Nimrod?" asked Colonel Sutherland.
"I understand--for of course such exploits are a little out of my way,"
said the gracious Rector--"that he is one of the best shots in the
country; and I know from my boy, who was fond of athletic sports, that
he excels in most of them. So much the worse for him now. It is a very
sad thing, and one unfortunately too common, to see young men brought
up to no other habits than those of a country gentleman, and then
launched upon life with the sentiment of the unjust steward, 'To dig I
know not, and to beg I am ashamed.'"
There was a little pause after this solemn and somewhat professional
utterance, the Colonel not perceiving exactly how to answer this calm
regret and sympathy, which never conceived the idea of helping, by a
little finger, the misfortune it deplored. After a little silence, the
Rector added, "You were acquainted with Mr. Musgrave, perhaps?--you feel
an interest in the young man?"
"I do, certainly--though I had no acquaintance whatever with his former
circumstances; he has been thrown accidentally in my way since I came
here," said Colonel Sutherland.
"Let us never say anything is done accidentally," said the Rector,
rising to take his leave with the most ingratiating smile--for he was
low church, and evangelical in theology, however he might be in his
actions; "everything has a purpose, my dear sir. Let us hope that it is
_providentially_ for poor Roger that he has been thrown in your way."
So saying, with many regrets that he should not have the pleasure of
entertaining the stranger at the Rectory, the excellent incumbent of
Tillington left him. The Colonel shrugged his shoulders when he was
gone. The authoritative, insinuating professional manner with which his
reverence corrected the expression of the old Christian stranger, who,
coming "accidentally" to a knowledge of Roger's trouble, was after all
the only neighbour whom the poor youth found in his extremity, made the
Colonel both smile and sigh. "Right enough to correct me," said to
himself the Scotch soldier, whose ideas of Providence wanted no
enlargement by such advice; but once more the Colonel shrugged his
shoulders, and remembered involuntarily the priest and the Levite who
passed on the other side. He could not comprehend this entire want of
all neighbourly and kindly feeling among the inhabitants of the same
locality. The old man had been so long absent from home, and was so much
accustomed to attribute the want of human kindness, which of course he
had seen many times in his life, to the deteriorating effect of a
strange country, and the entire want of home influences, that it amazed
him now to perceive how even the primitive bosom of an English rural
village held sentiments of self-regard as cold and unneighbourly as
anything he had met with in the faraway world to which he was
accustomed. Why could not this Rector, the friend and consoler of his
parish by right of his office, a man who (undeniable inducement to all
tenderness in the Colonel's tender heart) had children of his own--why
did not _he_ take the matter in hand, and appeal to Sir John Armitage,
if the baronet alone was to be expected to do anything on Roger's
behalf? The Colonel shook his head over it, and took refuge in his
dinner. No repetition of instances would make the generous old man adopt
or believe in this as the way of the world; he had only stumbled
unfortunately upon cold-hearted individuals. Heaven forbid that _he_
should put such a stigma on his brethren and his kind!