Lithest, gaudiest harlequin,
Prettiest tumbler ever seen,
Light of heart and light of limb.
Wordsworth.
Long walks continued to be almost a necessity to Mrs. Joseph Brownlow,
even when comparatively sobered down, and there were few days on which
she was not to be met a mile or two from Kenminster, attended by a train
of boys larger or smaller, according to the demands of the school for
work or play.
The winter was of the description least favourable to collective boyish
sports, as there was no snow and very little frost. The Christmas
holidays led to more walking than ever. The gravelled roads of Belforest
were never impassable, even in moist weather; and even the penetralia
of the place had been laid open to the Brownlows, in consequence of a
friendship which the two Johns had established with Alfred Richards,
the agent’s son. They had brought him in to see the museum, and he had
proved so nice and intelligent a lad, that Mother Carey, to the great
scandal of her Serene Highness, allowed Jock to ask him to partake of a
birthday feast.
When Allen came home at Christmas, he introduced stilt walking, and the
Coffinkey world had the pleasure of communicating to one another that
“Mrs. Folly Brownlow” had been seen with all her boys walking on stilts;
and of course in the next stage, Mrs. “Folly” Brownlow herself was said
to have been walking on stilts with all her boys, a libel, which caused
Mrs. Robert Brownlow much pain and trouble in the contradiction.
“Poor Caroline! walking seemed to be necessary to her health, and she
was out a great deal, but always walking along in the lanes on foot with
her little girls--yes, I assure you, always on foot!”
It was thus that Caroline, with Babie and Armine, was descending a hill
on the other side of Belforest Park, fully employed in picking the way
through the mud from stone to stone, when a cry of dismay came to them
from a distance, and whilst they were still struggling towards a gate,
which broke the line of the high hedge, the two Johns came back at
speed, crying--“Mother, Mother Carey! come quick, here’s Allen had a
spill--came down on his shoulder--his stilt went into a hole, and he
went right over; they think he must have broken something, he howls so
when they touch him.”
Feeling her limbs and breath inadequate to bear her on as fast as her
spirit flew forward, Caroline dashed through the slippery mud far too
swiftly for poor little Babie to keep up with her, leaving one boy to
take care of the little ones, while the other acted as her guide down
the long steep lane. She was unable to see over the hedges till she came
through a gate into a meadow, where Jock looked about, rubbed his eyes,
and exclaimed--“Hallo, where are they?” pointing to the place where
Allen had fallen, but whence he seemed to have been spirited away like
Sir Piercie Shafton. However, Rob and Joe came running out of a farmyard
at a little distance, with tidings that Allen had been taken in there,
and replying to her breathless question, that they could not tell how
much he was hurt.
A fine looking white-haired farmer met her next, saying--“Your young
gentleman is not very seriously hurt, ma’am. I think a dislocation of
the shoulder is the extent of the injury. He is feeling rather faint,
but you must not be alarmed.”
It was spoken with a kind courtesy that gave her confidence, and the old
man led her to the parlour, where his daughter-in-law, a gentle looking
person, was most kindly attending on Allen, who lay on the sofa,
exceedingly white, and in much pain, but able to smile at his mother,
and assure her that he should soon be all right.
“Had they sent for a surgeon?”
“No, but they had sent for a bone-setter, who would be there in a
minute.”
The old farmer explained that it would be two hours at the least before
a surgeon could be fetched from Kenminster, while Higg, the blacksmith,
who lived close at hand, was better for man and beast than any surgeon
he had known, and his son had instantly set out to fetch him. As the
mother doubtfully asked of his fitness, instances were quoted of his
success. The family had a “gift,” inherited and kept up from time
immemorial, and the farmer’s wife declared that he was as tender as
possible; she had seen him operate on a neighbour’s child, and should
not be afraid to trust him with one of her own.
The man’s voice was heard; they went out to speak to him, and Caroline
was left with her boy.
“What do you think, Ali, my dear,” she said, kneeling by him, “I
have often heard dear papa speak of the wonderful instinct of those
bone-setting families.”
“I’d have nothing to do with a humbugging quack,” put in Bobus.
“He may humbug as much as he likes, if he’ll only get me out of this
pain,” said poor Allen.
“He will only make it ever so much worse, and then you’ll have to have
it done over again,” croaked Bobus.
“That is not the way to talk of it, Bobus,” said his mother. “I know
a dislocated shoulder does not require any great skill, and that
promptness is of greater use than knowledge in such a case.”
“Well, if you like to encourage abominable humbug and have Allen lamed
for life, I don’t,” said Bobus. “I shan’t stay in the house with the
blackguard.”
He stalked out of the room with great loftiness of demeanour, just as
the operator was being introduced--a tall, sinewy man, with one of those
strong yet meek faces often to be found among the peasantry. He came in
after the old farmer, pulling his forelock to the lady, and waiting for
orders as if he had been sent for to mend the grate; but Caroline saw in
a moment that he was a man to trust in, and that his hands were not
only clean, but were well-formed, and powerful, with a great air of
dexterity.
“I am afraid my boy’s arm is put out,” she said, trembling a good deal.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And--and,” said she, feeling sick, and more desolate and left to her
own judgment than ever before. “Can you undertake to push it in again.”
“Please God, ma’am,” Higg said, gravely, coming nearer for examination.
Allen shrank and shuddered.
“Won’t it hurt awfully?” he asked.
“Well, sir, it won’t just be a bed of roses, but it won’t last, not
long, if you sets your will to it.”
He asked for various needments, and while he was inspecting them,
Allen’s courage began to fail, and he breathed out whispers that the man
was rougher and more ignorant than he expected, and they had better
wait and send to Kenminster for a doctor; but those who thought Caroline
helpless and childish would have been amazed at the gentle resolution
with which she refused to listen to his falterings, and braced him to
endure, knowing well that her husband had said that skill was hardly
needed in such a case, only resolution. She would not let herself be
taken out of the room, and indeed never thought of herself, only
of Allen, whose other hand she held, and to whom she seemed to give
patience and courage. When all was well over, there was a hospitable
invitation to the patient to remain till he was fit to return, and an
extension of the invitation to his mother, but with promises of every
care if she must leave him, and this she was forced to decide on doing,
as such a household as hers could not well spare her, especially on a
Saturday evening; and she also saw that the inconvenience to her hosts
would have been great.
Allen was so much relieved, that she had no fear of leaving him to these
kind people, to whom she had taken a great fancy.
“I shall learn the habits of the genuine species, British farmer,”
said he, as his mother kissed him, and declared him the best and most
conformable of boys.
Old Mr. Gould would not be denied driving her home in his gig, and when
she thought about it, she found she had a strange relaxed aching of the
knees, which made her glad of kindness for herself and the little ones.
In the fine old kitchen she found that Armine had had an overpowering
fit of crying, which had been kindly soothed by motherly Mrs. Gould, and
the whole party were partaking of a luxurious tea, enlivened by mince
pies and rosy-cheeked apples, which had diverted his attention to the
problem why the next year’s prosperity should depend on the number of
mince pies consumed before Christmas.
Bobus was not among them, having marched off in his contempt of the
bone-setter, and his mother was not without fears that he might bring a
real surgeon down on her at any moment, so she quickly drank off her cup
of tea, and took her seat in Farmer Gould’s gig with Babie as bodkin in
front, and Joe and Armine in the little seat behind. Robin and the two
Johns were to stilt themselves home, while she was taken so long and
rugged a way, that at every jolt she was ready to renew her thanks for
sparing it to her son’s shoulder; and they were at home before her.
The whole family came pouring out to meet her, and the Colonel made warm
acknowledgments of the farmer’s kindness, speaking of him when he was
gone as one of the most estimable men in the neighbourhood, staunch in
his politics, and very ill-used by old Barnes of Belforest.
Caroline looked anxiously for Bobus; and Janet, who had stayed at home
to finish some papers for her essay society, said that he had only
hurried in to tell her and take off his stilts, and had then gone down
to Dr. Leslie’s.
“Then has Dr. Leslie gone? We did not meet him, but he may have gone
through Belforest,” exclaimed Caroline.
“O no, he has not gone; he would not when he heard about that Higg,”
said Janet, with uneasy and much disgusted face. “He couldn’t do any
good after his meddling.”
“Do you mean that he said so?” asked Carey, much alarmed.
“Never mind,” said the Colonel, “you did quite right, Caroline, whatever
the doctor says. Any man of sense, with good strong hands, can manage
a shoulder like that, and I should have thought Leslie had sense to see
it; but those professional men can’t stand outsiders.”
“Where is Bobus?” asked Caroline; “I should like to distinguish between
what Dr. Leslie said to him and what he told Janet. He might be more
zealous for Dr. Leslie than Dr. Leslie for himself.”
Bobus was unearthed, and by much pumping was made to allow that Dr.
Leslie had told him that there was nothing more to be done, and that
his brother was quite safe in Higg’s hands; but Bobus evidently did not
believe it. He kept silence while his uncle remained, but he had hunted
up his father’s surgical books, and went on about humeral clavicles and
ligatures all the evening, till his mother felt sick, in the nervous
contemplation of possibilities, though her better sense was secure that
she had done right, while Janet was moodily silent and angered with her,
in the belief that she had weakly let Allen be injured for life; and
Bobus seemed as if he had rather it should be so than that he should be
wrong, and Higg’s native endowments turn out a reality.
Caroline abstained from looking at the book herself, partly because she
thought she might only alarm herself the more without confuting Bobus,
and partly because she knew that the old law which forbade Janet to
meddle with the medical books, would be considered as abrogated if she
touched them herself.
Both she and Janet were much more anxious than they confessed, except
by the looks which betrayed their broken rest the next morning. Each
was bent on walking to River Hollow, and they would fain have done so
immediately after breakfast, but to take the whole tribe was impossible;
and to let them go to Church without her, would infallibly lead to
Jock’s getting into a scrape with his relatives, if not with the whole
congregation. Was it not all her eyes could do to hinder palpable smiles
in the sermon, and her monkey from playing tricks on his bear, who, by
some fatality, always sat in front, with his irresistible broad back,
down which, in spite of all her vigilance, Jock had once thrust a large
bluebottle fly. She also knew that both her husband and his mother would
have thought she ought to go to Church, and that if matters went
amiss with her boy, she should reproach herself with the omission. Her
children, too, influenced her, though very oppositely, for Janet was
found preparing to start for River Hollow, and on being told that she
must wait, to go with her mother, till after Church, declared defiantly
that “she saw no sense in staying at home to hear Rigdum when she did
not know how ill Allen might be.”
“You would not have said that to grandmamma,” said Carey.
“Well, if you like to go to Church, you can. I can go alone.”
“No, I will not have you take that long walk alone.”
“Then I will take one of the boys.”
“No, Janet, I mean to be obeyed. Go and put on your other hat, and do
not make us late for Church.”
Janet was forced to submit, for she never came to the point of actual
disobedience to her mother. Caroline’s ruffled feelings were soothed by
little Armine, who ran in from feeding his rabbits to ask to have the
place in his Prayer-book shown to him where he should pray for poor
Allen. She marked the Litany sentence for him, and meant to have thrown
her own heart into it, but when the moment came, her mind was far
astray, building vague castles about her boys.
Still she felt as if her church going had its reward, for Dr. Leslie
met her a little way outside the porch, and, after asking after her boy,
said--
“I hope his brother explained to you that Higg is quite to be trusted.
He always knows what he can do, and when a case is beyond him. If I had
come there would have been nothing for me to do.”
“There!” said Jock, triumphantly to his brother and sister.
“Much you know about it,” grunted Bobus.
“Mother Carey was right. She always is,” persisted Jock.
“It would have been just the same if the man had known nothing about
it,” said Janet. “I hate your irregular practitioners, and it was very
weak in mother to encourage them.” Then, as Bobus snarled at the censure
of his mother--“You said so yourself yesterday.”
“I didn’t say any such beastly thing of mother. She could tell whether
it was just a simple dislocation, and she was right, having ever so much
more sense than _you_, Janet.”
“You didn’t say so yesterday,” repeated Janet.
“I don’t like irregular practitioners a bit better than you do, Janet,”
said Bobus with dignity; “and I thought it right to call in a qualified
surgeon, but I never said mother couldn’t judge.”
However, Bobus would not countenance the irregular practitioner by
escorting his mother to River Hollow; and as he was in one of the
surly moods in which he was dangerous to any one who meddled with him,
especially Janet, his mother was glad not to have to keep the peace
between them.
Janet, though not in the most amiable mood, chose to go with her, and
they set forth by the shorter way, across Belforest park, skirting the
gardens where the statues stood up, looking shivery and forlorn, as if
they were not suited to English winters, and the huge house looked
down on them like a London terrace that had lost its way, with a dreary
uninhabited air about it. Even by this private way they had two miles
and a half of park to traverse, before they reached a heavy miry lane,
where the beds of mud, alternated with rugged masses of stone, intended
to choke them. It led up between high hedges to the brow of one of the
many hills of the county, whence they could look down into the hollow, a
perfect cup, scooped out as it were between the hills that closed it in,
except at the outlet of the river that intersected it, making the meadow
on either side emerald green, even in the winter. Corn lands of rich red
soil, pasture fields dotted with cattle, and broad belts of copse wood
between clothed the slopes; and a picturesque wooden bridge, with a
double handrail, crossed the river. The farm-house, built of creamy
stone, stood on the opposite side of the river, some way above the bank,
and the mother and daughter agreed that it deserved to be sketched next
summer.
They had to pick their way down a lane that was almost a torrent, and
emerging at the foot of the bridge, they stood still in amazement, for
in the very centre was something vibrating rapidly, surrounded by a
perfect halo of gold and scarlet. It was like a gigantic humming-bird
moth at first, but it presently resolved itself into a little girl,
clad in something dark purple below, and above with a bright scarlet
cloaklet, which flew out and streamed back, beneath the floating locks
of glistening gold that glinted in the sun, as with a hand on each rail
of the bridge she swung herself backwards and forwards with the most
bewildering rapidity. Suddenly becoming aware of the approach of
strangers, she stood for one moment gazing in astonishment, then fled
so swiftly that she almost seemed to fly, and vanished in the farm
buildings!
They stood laughing and declaring that Babie would be convinced that
fairies came out on Sunday, then crossed the river and were beginning
to ascend the path when a volley of sounds broke on them, a shrill yap
giving the alarm, louder notes joining in, and the bass being supplied
by a formidable deep-mouthed bark, as out of the farmyard-gate dashed
little terrier, curly spaniel, slim greyhounds, surly sheep-dog of the
old tailless sort, and big and mighty Newfoundland, and there they stood
in a row, shouting forth defiance in all gradations of note, so that,
though frightened, Carey and Janet could not help laughing, as the
former said--
“This comes of gadding about on Sunday.”
“If we went on boldly they would see we are not tramps,” said Janet.
“Depend on it they will let no one pass in Church time.”
So it proved, for Janet’s attempt to move forward elicited a growl from
the sheep-dog, and a leap forward of the “little dogs and all,” which
daunted even her stout heart.
However, calls were heard, and the bright vision of the bridge came
darting among the dogs, scolding and driving them in, and Allen himself
came out to the gate, all bandaged up on one side, but waving his arm as
a signal to his mother and sister to advance. They did so nervously but
safely, while the growls of the sheep-dog sounded like distant thunder,
and the terrier uttered his protest from the door. Allen declared
himself much better, and said he should be quite able to go home
to-morrow, only this was such a jolly place; and then he brought them
into the beautiful old kitchen with a magnificent open hearth, inclosed
by two fine dark walnut-wood settles, making a little carpeted chamber
between them. Here Allen had the farmer’s armchair and a footstool, and
with “Foxe’s Martyrs” open at a flaming illustration on the little round
table before him, appeared to be spending his Sunday as luxuriously as
the big tabby cat who shared the hearth with him.
“They have only one service at Woodbridge, morning and afternoon by
turns,” he explained, “and so they are all gone to it.”
“Who is that girl?” asked Janet.
“Undine,” he coolly replied.
“She certainly appeared on the bridge,” said his mother, “but I should
think Undine’s colouring had been less radiant--more of the blue and
white.”
“She had not a whiter skin nor bluer eyes,” said Allen, “nor made
herself more ridiculous either. Did you ever see such hair, mother?
Hullo, Elfie. There she is, peeping in at the window, just as Undine
did; Come in!” he cried at the door. “No, not she,” as he returned
baffled; “she is off again!”
“But, Allen, who is she? Not Farmer Gould’s daughter.”
“Of course not. Don’t you know she was fished up in a net, and belonged
to a palace under the ocean full of pearls and diamonds. She took such a
fancy to me that no power on earth would make her go to Church with the
rest. She ran away, and hid, and when they were all gone she came out
and curled herself up at my feet and chattered, till I happened to
offend her majesty, and off she went like a shot. I’m only thankful
that she did not make her pearly teeth meet in my finger in true Undine
fashion.”
“But who is she, really?”
“I can’t quite make out. They call her Elfie, and she calls them
grandpapa, and uncle and aunt, but she has been sitting here complaining
of everything being cold and dull, and talking about seas and islands,
palm-trees, and coral caves, and humming birds, yes, and black slaves,
and strings of pearls, so that if she is romancing, like Armine and
Babie, she does it uncommonly naturally.”
They saw no more of this mysterious little being, and the family soon
returned from Church. The father was a fine, old-fashioned yeoman,
the son had the style of a modern farmer, and the wife was so quiet,
sensible, and matronly as to be almost ladylike. Her two little girls
were dressed as well as Essie and Ellie, but all were essentially
commonplace. They were very kind and friendly, anxious that Allen
should stay as long as was good for him, as well as pressing in their
hospitality to the two ladies. Mr. Gould was very anxious to drive them
home in his gig, though he allowed that the road was very rough unless
you went through Belforest Park, and that he never did.
This was surprising, for Belforest had always seemed as free as the
turnpike-road, and River Hollow was apparently part of the estate, but
there was an air of discouraging questions, so Carey suspected quarrels
and asked none.
She was enlightened the next day when Colonel Brownlow brought his
phaeton to fetch Allen home over the smooth park road. He told her
that the Goulds were freeholders who had owned River Hollow from time
immemorial, though each successive lord of Belforest tried to buy them
out. The alienation between them and Mr. Barnes, the present master, had
however much stronger grounds than these. His nephew and intended heir
has stolen a match with the old man’s pretty daughter, and this had
never been forgiven. The young couple had gone out to the West Indian
isles, where the early home of her husband had been, and where he held
some government office, and there fell a victim to the climate. Old Mr.
Gould had gone home to fetch his daughter and her child, but the former
had died before he reached her, and he had only brought back the little
girl about two years ago.
Mr. Barnes ignored her entirely, and the Goulds, who had a good deal
of pride, did not choose to apply to him. It was very unfortunate,
for unless he had any other relations the child must be heiress to his
immense wealth, though it was as likely as not that he would leave it
all to hospitals out of pure vindictiveness.
They found Allen out of doors attended by the three little girls, all
eagerly watching the removal of a sheep-fold. He was a pleasant-mannered
boy, ready to adapt himself to all circumstances and to throw ready
intelligent interest into everything, and he had won the hearts of
the whole River Hollow establishment, from old Mr. Gould down to the
smallest puppy.
Elfie, as he called her, stood her ground, and as she looked up under
her brown mushroom hat Caroline was struck with her beauty, fair, but
with a southern richness of bloom and glow--the carnation cheek of a
depth of tint more often found in brunette complexions. The eyes were
not merely blue by courtesy, but of a wonderful deep azure, shaded by
very long lashes, dark except when the sun glinted them with gold, and
round her shoulders hung masses of hair of that exquisite light auburn
which cannot be accused of being red.
She let herself be greeted by the strangers with much more ease and
grace than the other two children, but the slow walk of her grandfather
and Colonel Brownlow seemed more than she could brook, and she went off,
flying and spinning round like a little dog.
While all the acknowledgments and farewells were being made, and Colonel
Brownlow was taking directions for finding Higg’s house and forge so
as to remunerate him for his services, Elfie came hurrying up to Allen,
holding out a great, gorgeous pink-lined shell, and laid within it two
heads of scarlet geranium on a green leaf.
“O Elfie, Elfie! how could you?” exclaimed he, knowing them to be the
only flowers in bloom.
“You must have them. There’s nothing else pretty to give you, and I love
you,” said the child, holding up her face to kiss him.
“Elvira!” said her aunt in warning, “how can you! What will this lady
think of you?”
Elvira’s gesture would in any other child have seemed a sulky thrust
of the elbow, but in her it was more like the flutter of the wing of a
brilliant bird.
“You must,” she repeated; and when he hesitated with “If Mrs. Gould,”
she broke away, dashed the flowers, shell and all, into the middle of a
clump of rosemary, and rushed out of sight like a little fury.
“You will excuse her, Mrs. Brownlow,” said Mrs. Gould, much annoyed.
“She has been sadly spoilt, living among negro servants and having her
own way, so that she is sometimes quite ungovernable.”
“Nay, nay, she is a warm-hearted little thing if you don’t cross her,”
said the old farmer; “and the young gentleman has been very kind to
her.”
Mrs. Gould looked as if she thought she knew her niece better than
grandpapa did, but she was too wise to speak; and the little girls,
having assisted Allen in the recovery of the shell and the flowers, he
tendered them again to her.
“You had better keep them, Mr. Brownlow,” she said. “The shell is her
own, and if you did not take it she is so _tenacious_ that she would be
sure to smash it to atoms.”
Allen accepted perforce and proceeded with his farewells, but as he was
stooping down to kiss little five-year-old Kate Gould, something wet,
cold, and sloppy came with great force on them both, almost knocking
them down and bespattering them both with black drops. The missile
proved to be a dripping sod pulled up from the duck-pond in the
next field, and a glimpse might be caught of Elvira’s scarlet legs
disappearing over the low wall between.
Over poor Mrs. Gould’s apologies a veil had best be drawn. Mother Carey
pitied her heartily, but it was impossible not to make fun at home
over the black tokens on Allen’s shirt-collar. His brothers and sisters
laughed excessively, and Janet twitted him with his Undine, till he,
contrary to his wont, grew so cross as to make his mother recollect that
he was still a suffering patient, and insist on his lying quiet on the
sofa, while she banished every one, and read Tennyson to him. Poetry,
read aloud by her, was Allen’s greatest delight, but not often enjoyed,
as Bobus and Jock scouted it, and Janet was getting too strong-minded
and used to break in with inopportune, criticisms.
So to have Mother Carey to read “Elaine” undisturbed was as great an
indulgence as Allen could well have, but she had not gone far before he
broke out--
“Mother, please, I wish you could do something for that girl. She really
is a lady.”
“So it appears,” said Carey, much disposed to laugh.
“Now, mother, don’t be tiresome. You have more sense than Janet. Her
father was Vice-consul at Sant Ildefonso, one of the Antilles.”
“But, my dear, I am afraid that is not quite so grand as it sounds--”
“Hush, mother. He was nephew to Mr. Barnes, and they lived out of the
town in a perfect paradise of a place, looking out into the bay. Mr.
Gould says he can hardly believe he ever saw anything so gorgeously
beautiful, and there this poor little Elvira de Menella lived like a
princess with a court of black slaves. Just fancy what it must be to her
to come to that farm, an orphan too, with an aunt who can’t understand a
creature like that.”
“Poor child.”
“Then she can’t get any education. Old Gould is a sensible man, who says
any school he could afford would only turn her out a sham, and he means,
when Mary and Kate are a little older, to get some sort of governess for
the three. But, mother, couldn’t you just let him bring her in on market
days and teach her a little?”
“My dear boy, what would your aunt do? We can’t have sods of mud flying
about the house.”
“Now, mother, you know better! You could make anything of her, you know
you could! And what a model she would make! Think what a poor little
desolate thing she is. You always have a fellow feeling for orphans, and
we do owe those people a great deal of gratitude.”
“Allen, you special pleader, it really will not do! If I had not
undertaken Essie and Ellie, I might think about it, but I promised your
aunt not to have any other pupils.”
Allen bothered Essie and Ellie, but was forced to acquiesce, which was
fortunate, for when on the last day of the holidays it was found that
he had walked to River Hollow to take leave of the Goulds, his aunt
administered to his mother a serious warning on the dangers of allowing
him to become intimate there.
Caroline tingled all over during the discourse, and at last jumped up,
exclaiming--
“My dear Ellen, half the harm in the world is done by making a fuss.
Things don’t die half so hard when they die a natural death.”
Ellen knew Carey thought she had said something very clever, but was all
the more unconvinced.