"And shall the heirs of sinful blood
Find joy unmixed in charity?"
_Keble_.
These first beginnings were really hard work, and there was a great
amount of unpopularity to be encountered, for the people of Uphill were
so utterly unused to kindness that they could not believe that anything
was done for them from disinterested motives. Captain Carbonel took
great trouble to set up a coal club, persuading the President of Saint
Cyril's and the neighbouring landowners to subscribe, and the farmers to
fetch the coal on the plea that to have fuel on low terms would save the
woods and hedges from destruction. Tirzah especially, and half-a-dozen
women besides were to be met with great faggots of limbs of trees on
their backs from Mr Selby's woods, and the keepers were held to wink at
it, for, in truth, the want of fuel was terrible. Mr Selby talked of
withholding his yearly contribution of blankets, because the people were
so ungrateful. "As if it would do them any good to make them colder,"
cried Dora.
So at last it was arranged that one of the barns should be filled with
coal, and Captain Carbonel and Mr Harford, with old Pucklechurch, were
to see it served out at sixpence a bushel every Monday morning. And
then, Pucklechurch reported that the people said, "Depend on it, the
captain made a good thing of it." So, when he divided one of his fields
into allotment gardens, for those who had portions too scanty for the
growth of their potatoes, though he let them off at a rate which brought
in rent below the price of land in the parish, the men were ready enough
to hire them, but they followed Dan Hewlett's lead in believing that
"that Gobbleall knowed what he was about, and made a good thing of it";
while the farmers, like Mr Goodenough, were much displeased, declaring
that the allotments would only serve as an excuse for pilfering. Truly,
whatever good was attempted in Uphill, had to be done against the
stream, for nobody seemed to be on the side of the Carbonels except Mr
Harford, and a few of the poor, such as the old Pucklechurches, Widow
Mole and her father, the George Hewletts, and poor Judith Grey, besides
all the better children, who were easily won.
It made the more difficulty that though Captain Carbonel was a patient
man in _deed_, did not set his expectations too high, and bore, in fact,
with an amazing amount of disappointment and misunderstanding; yet he
was not patient in word, and was apt to speak very sharply when
indignant with cruelty, shuffling, or what was more unlucky, with
stupidity. The men used to declare that he swore at them, which was
perfectly untrue, for a profane word never crossed his lips, but when he
was very angry, he spoke in a tone that perhaps might excuse them for
thinking that his reproofs were flavoured, as had been the abuse to
which they were only too well accustomed.
The tormentors of poor Softy Sam always slunk out of reach at the most
distant report of the approach of the captain, the curate, or the
ladies, but the men never understood their objections to the sport that
had hitherto been freely afforded by the idiot, and had a general idea
that the gentlefolk disliked whatever afforded them amusement.
George Hewlett, indeed, knew better; but then he had never joined in
baiting Softy Sam, and, indeed, had more than once sheltered him from
his enemies, and given him a bit of food. But George in his own line
was dull and unapt to learn; or the whole adventure of the Greenhow
drawing-room paper would never have happened. He might have had it put
up wrongly, for that was wholly the defect of his perceptions, but Dan
would not have been able to secure his unlawful gains. In fact, Dan had
traded on his cousin's honest straightforward blindness and stupidity a
good many times already.
Captain Carbonel stormed at George when he failed to understand
directions, or cut a bit of wood to waste; but without loss of
confidence, and before long, Master Hewlett came to accept it as the
captain's way, and to trust him as a really kind and liberal employer.
And, unluckily, he did not always heed the rating so loudly given, or
rather he did not set his mind to comprehend what lay a little out of
his usual beat, and thus gave additional provocation, though still
Captain Carbonel bore with him, and would not have rejected him in
favour of the far smarter carpenter at Downhill, on any of these
provocations.
Dan, who was a much sharper fellow, could have helped a great deal, but
his back was up at the first word, and he would do nothing but sulk.
Moreover, George himself detected him doing away with some wood out of
that which was to make Farmer Goodenough's farm gates, under colour that
it was a remnant only fit for firewood. Having already announced that
he would never again employ his cousin after another of these
peculations, he kept to his word, and in spite of Molly's tears and
abuse, and Dan's deeper objurgations, he persisted. Daniel tried to get
work at Downhill, but all the time declared that them Gobblealls was at
the bottom of it, having a spite at him.
Just at this time Captain Carbonel was driving the phaeton, with his
wife in it, home from Elchester; when, just as they were passing Todd's
house, a terrible scream was heard. Shrieks that did not mean
naughtiness but agony; and a flame was visible within the door. In one
moment the captain was over the wicket, past the lurcher, dragging with
him his great old military cloak, which had been over Mary's knees.
Another second, and he had wrapped little Hoglah in it from top to toe,
stifling the flames by throwing her down and holding her tight, while
her mother came flying in from the garden; and Mary, throwing the reins
of the horse to the servant, hurried in.
Tirzah was screaming and sobbing. "My child! My dear! Oh, Hoggie!
Hoggie! Is she dead! Oh!"
"No, no; I think not," said the captain. And, indeed, no sooner did he
begin to unroll her than cries broke out, very sufficient answer as to
the child's being alive, and as her mother vehemently clasped her they
grew more agonising.
"Let me see how much she is burnt," said Mrs Carbonel. "You had better
not squeeze her. It makes it worse."
The child's poor little neck and bosom proved to have been sadly burnt.
Her mother had been heating the oven, and had gone out to fetch fresh
faggots, when the little one, trying in baby-fashion to imitate the
proceedings, had set her pinafore on fire. Many more children were thus
destroyed than now, when they do not wear so much cotton, nor such long
frocks and pinafores.
Poor little Hoglah screamed and moaned terribly, and the thought of her
being unbaptised came with a shock across Mrs Carbonel. However, she
did not think the injuries looked fatal, and speaking gently to soothe
the mother, as she saw the preparations for baking, she said, "I think
we can give her a little ease, my dear, my dear."
Tirzah was sobbing, screaming, and calling on her dear child, quite
helpless at the moment, while Mary took the moaning child. Captain
Carbonel, with his own knife (finding it more effective than the blunt
old knife on the table), cut off the remains of the little garments
which had become tinder, and then handed his wife the flour in a sort of
scoop, and as she sprinkled it over the burnt surface, the shrieks and
moans abated and gradually died away, the child muttered, "Nice, nice,"
and another word or two, which her mother understood as asking for
something to drink. Beer, to Mary's dismay, was the only thing at hand,
but after a sup of that, the little thing's black eyes closed, and she
said something of "Mammy," and "Bye, bye." The great old cradle stood
by, still used, though the child was three years old, and Mrs Carbonel
laid her carefully in it.
"I think she will get well," said she to the mother, "only you must not
let the flour be disturbed on any account." She had arranged
handkerchiefs, her own, and a red one of Tirzah's, to cover the
dressing. "I will send you some milk, and don't let the coverings be
disturbed. Let her lie; only give her milk when she wants it, and I
will come to see her to-morrow."
Tirzah was sobbing quietly now, but she got out a choked question as to
whether the child could get well.
"Oh yes; no fear of that, if you let the flour alone, as Mrs Carbonel
tells you," said the captain.
"Oh, oh! if it wasn't for you--" the mother began.
But Edmund wanted to get his wife away before there was a scene, and cut
it short with, "There, there! We'll come again. Only let her alone,
and don't meddle with the flour."
Tirzah did what no native of Uphill would have thought of. She clasped
Mrs Carbonel's hand, threw herself on her knees, and kissed it.
"Thank God, not me," said Mary, much moved. "But you will give her to
God now, and let her be baptised. I think she will live, but it ought
to be as God's child."
When the curate came in a little later, to hear how the child was,
Tirzah allowed him to baptize her privately. It might partly have been
the dread of missing the Burial Service, but far more because in this
present mood she was ready to do anything for madam.
Even when the neighbours thronged in, and Mrs Spurrell wanted to take
the child up, pull off the flour, and anoint her with oil and spirit,
she would not hear of it.
"They as saved her shall have their will of her," said she.
"Saved her! She'll sleep herself off to death! What's the good of
simple stuff like that, with no sting nor bite in it?" said Nanny
Barton.
"Ay," said Mrs Spurrell, "this ile as my great-aunt gave me, as they
said was a white witch, with all her charrums, is right sovereign! Why,
I did Jenny Truman's Sally with it when her arm was burnt."
"Ay, and you could hear her holler all over the place," said Tirzah;
"and she've no use of her arm, poor maid! No, you shan't touch my child
no how."
Tirzah kept her word, and Mrs Carbonel came every day and doctored the
child, and Sophy brought her a doll, which kept her peaceful for hours.
The lurcher never barked at them, but seemed to understand their
mission. And a wonderful old gipsy grandmother of Tirzah's, with eyes
like needles and cheeks like brown leather, came and muttered charms
over the child, and believed her cure was owing to them; but she left a
most beautiful basket, white and purple, for a present to the lady.