It never struck Richard that some of his behaviour was verging on the
Quixotic. His only thought now was that he was degraded from his high
estate, and that the woman whom he had loved with all his heart--did
love still--had turned from him in his poverty and distress.
At such times men are not disposed to fairly analyse the motives of
others; and Richard was anything but an unbiased judge, as he knit his
brow, told himself that he had the fight to begin now, and determined to
take help from no one who had known him in his prosperity.
With this feeling strong upon him he dismissed the man who had driven
him over; and, to the utter astonishment of the Saint Kitt's
station-master, took a third-class ticket for London, and entered a
compartment wherein were a soldier with a bottle, a sailor just landed,
an old lady with several bundles, bound on a visit to her boy in
London--a gentleman, she informed everybody, who kept a public--and the
customary rural third-class passengers.
And then the long, dreary journey began, Richard making up his mind to
suit himself to the company amongst whom he was thrown, and failing
dismally; for both soldier and sailor, whose idea of enjoyment seemed to
be that they must get hopelessly intoxicated as soon as possible, took
it as an offence that he would not "take a pull" of rum out of the
bottle belonging to the son of Neptune, and of gin from that of the son
of Mars.
To make up for this, Richard tried to be civil to a couple of rustic
lasses, who received all his little bits of matter-of-fact politeness
and conversation with giggles and glances at a young Devonian in the
corner of the carriage, till his brickdust-coloured visage became the
colour of one of his own ruddy ploughed fields, and he announced that
"for zigzpence he'd poonch that chap's yed."
Hereupon the old lady with the bundles loudly proclaimed a wish that her
"zun" was there; and ended by hoping that, if "this young man" (meaning
Richard) intended to make himself unpleasant, he would go into another
carriage.
It was hard--just at a time, too, when Richard's temper seemed to be
angular and sore--when the slightest verbal touch made him wince. But
he set his teeth, bore a good deal of vulgar banter with patience, and
was able to compliment himself grimly for his forbearance during the
long ride along that single line of Cornish railway that is one
incessant series of scaffold-like viaducts, over some of the most
charming little valleys in our isle.
After passing Plymouth, the old lady became so sociable that she dropped
asleep against our traveller. The rustics had given place to a tall
traveller; and the soldier and sailor grew hilariously friendly after
replenishing their bottles at Plymouth. And so, fighting hard to put
the past in its proper place--behind--the train bore Richard onward to
his goal.
Just before nearing Paddington Station, Trevor took out his pocket-book,
and the rugged, hard look upon his face was softened. He glanced round
the compartment, to see that half his fellow-passengers were asleep, the
soldier drunk, the stout old lady with the bundles busy hunting for her
railway ticket, and the sailor disconsolately trying to drain a little
more rum out of his bottle.
By this time Trevor had grown weary of the long journey--so tedious on
the hard third-class seats--in spite of his determination; and a sigh
would once or twice escape, as recollections of his old first-class
luxury intruded.
"I'll hold to it, though," he muttered.
And, determined to go on in his course, he opened his pocket-book, and
drew from it a letter which he had received from Tolcarne. It was not
long, but it sent the blood dancing through his veins, and nerved him
for the fight to come. It ran as follows:--
"Dearest Dick--What shall I say to you in this your great trouble?
Can I say more than that I would give anything to be by your side, to
try and advise--at all events, to try and help and comfort? Papa was
very angry when your letter came, and read it to Aunt Matty; but let
that pass, as I tell you only, Dick, that you have a friend in dear
mamma, who stood up for you as nobly as did darling little Fin, who
had been in unaccountably low spirits before. I tried so hard, Dick,
to come to you--to answer your letter and scold you; but they would
not let me stir. I dare not tell you what they said; you must guess
when I tell you that I was a dreadfully disobedient child, and Aunt
Matty declared that no good could ever come to a girl who set herself
up in opposition to her father and aunt. Poor dear mamma was left out
of it altogether. I say all this, Dick, for fear you should think I
fell away from you in your trouble, and would not come to you as you
wished; but my heart was with you all the time. And now, Dick,
darling, to be more matter-of-fact, what is all this to us? You could
not help it; and whether you are Richard Trevor or Richard Lloyd by
name, how does it alter you in the eyes of her to whom you said so
much? Dick, you don't know me, or you would never have sent me that
cruel letter, so full of your dreadful determination. Oh, Dick, do
you think--can you think--I wish to be free? You taught me to love
you, and you cannot undo your work. For shame, to write in that
desponding tone because of this accident. It was very wicked and
dreadful of Mrs Lloyd, but you could not help it; and now you have so
nobly determined to make restitution to poor Humphrey, let it all go.
My Dick only stands out more nobly than ever. You have your
profession, sir--go back to that, and they will only be too proud to
have you; but don't go long voyages, or where there are storms. I lay
awake all night listening to the wind, and thinking how thankful I
ought to be that you were ashore, Dick, and all the time I felt
prouder than ever of my own boy. Oh, Dick, never talk to me of
freedom! Nothing can make me change. Even if I saw with my own poor
little crying eyes that you cared for me no more, I could not leave
off loving; and, dear Dick--dearest Dick--don't think me bold and
unmaidenly if I say now what I should not have dared to say if you had
not been in trouble--Dick, recollect this--that there is some one
waiting your own time, when, rich or poor, you shall ask her to come
to you, when and where you will, and she will be your own little
wife--Tiny.
"P.S.--Pin has looked over my shoulder, and read all this as I wrote
it; and she says it is quite right, besides sending her dear love to
brother Dick."
Trevor's forehead went down on his hands as he finished, his face was
very pale, and a strange look was in his eyes as he re-perused the note.
"God bless her!" he muttered. "I will do something, and I believe she
will wait for me; but I can't drag her down to share my poverty. But
there, I won't curse it, when I see how it brings out the pure metal
from the fire. I can't go back to the sea, though. Pooh! what chance
have I--a poor penniless servant's son--how should I get a ship. Why,
my rank has been obtained by imposture."
The rugged, hard look came back, but the sight of an enclosure once more
smoothed his forehead.
"Here's dear little Fin," he said to himself. "Well, after all, it's
very sweet to find out how true some hearts can be."
Saying this to himself, he opened and read a little jerky scrawl from
Fin:--
"My own dear Brother Dick,--I sent you a message by Tiny, but I
thought I'd write too, so as to show you that little people can be as
staunch as big. Never mind about the nasty money, or the troublesome
estate--you can't have everything; and I tell you, sir, that you've
won what is worth a thousand Penreifes--my darling little Tiny's
heart--you great, ugly monster! Dear Dick, I'm so sorry for you, but
I can't cry a bit--only pat you on the back and say, `Never mind.'
I'll take care of Tiny for you, in spite of Aunt Matty--a wicked old
woman!--for if she didn't look up from a goody-goody book, and say
that she'd always expected it, and she was very glad. Ma sends her
love to you, and says she shall come across to Penreife to see you,
the first time papa goes over to Saint Kitt's. She would come now,
only she wants to keep peace and quietness in the house. They're
against you now, but it will soon blow over. If it don't, we'll win
over Aunt Matty to our side by presenting her with dogs. By the way,
Pepine has a cold: he sneezed twice yesterday, and his tail is all
limp. Goodbye, Dick.--Your affectionate sister,
"Fin Rea."
Richard's eyes brightened as he read this, and then carefully bestowed
it in his pocket-book.