"Pray speak gently, dear."
"Speak gently! how can a man speak gently? The things are of no value,
but it worries me, I've taken such pains with them, through the cold
weather, to bring them on."
"You have, Sir James, you have, sir; and I never let the fire go out
once."
"No: but you've let the grapes go out, confound you! and if I find that
you have been dishonest--"
"Oh! but I'm sure, dear, that he would not be."
"Thank you kindly, my lady," said John Monnick, the old gardener, taking
off his hat and wiping his streaming brow with his arm, as he stood bent
and dejected, leaning upon his spade, with every line in his countenance
puckered and drawn with trouble, and a helpless look of appeal in his
eyes. "No, my lady, I wouldn't let these here old hands take to picking
and stealing, and many's the trouble I've been in with Fanny and Martha
and the others because I was so particular even to a gooseberry."
"There, dear, I told you so!"
"But the grapes are gone," cried Sir James Scarlett angrily. "Who could
have taken them?"
"That's what puzzles me, Master James, it do indeed. I did get into
temptation once, and took something, but it's been a lesson to me; and I
said then, never no more, with the Lord's help, and never no more, sir,
it's true, never up to now."
"Then you confess you did steal some fruit once?"
"Yes, Master James, I confess it, sir, and a deal I've thought about it
since; and I've come to think from much reading, sir, that though this
here garden wasn't planted eastward in Eden it's a very beautiful place;
all the neighbours say, sir, that there ain't a more beautiful little
place for miles round, and Lady Martlett's folk's about wild at our
growing such better fruit and flowers."
"Oh, yes! I know all about that, but what has that to do with your
confession?"
"Everything, if you please, Master James, for how could there be a
beautiful garden even now without temptation coming into it, same as it
did when that there apple, as brought all the sin into the world, was
picked and eat?"
"There, that will do, Monnick; now speak out."
"I will, sir and my lady, and ask your pardon humbly and get it off my
mind. It were five year ago, sir, and just after you'd took the place,
and I'd come up from old master's, sir."
"Five years ago, John?" said Lady Scarlett smiling.
"Yes, my lady, five year, and it'll be six at Michaelmas, and it wasn't
over an apple but over one o' them Willyum pears, as growd on that
cup-shaped tree down side the south walk."
"And you cleared that, did you?" said Sir James grimly.
"Nay, sir, I didn't; it were only one of 'em as had hung till it were
dead-ripe, and then fell as soon as the sun came on it hot, and there it
lay under the tree, with its rosy green and yellow side, and a big crack
acrost it like a hopen mouth asking me to taste how good it was."
"And did you, John?" said Lady Scarlett, passing her arm through her
husband's, and pressing it quietly.
"Did I, my lady? I was mowing that there great walk and I went by it
three or four times, but the grass there was dry and wiry and would not
cut, and I had to go over it again and again, and the more I tried to
resist the temptation the more it wouldn't flee before me, but kept on
a-drawing and a-drawing of me till at last I dropped my scythe and
rubber and ran right away, I did, Sir James and my lady, I did indeed."
"And left the pear?" said Sir James.
The old man shook his grey head sadly.
"I was obliged to go and fetch my scythe and rubber, master. I might
ha' left 'em till night, but that was the temptation on it a drawing of
me till I went back, meaning to shut my eyes and snatch up the scythe
and come away. But lor', my lady, you know how weak we sinful mortals
be. I tried hard but my eyes would open, and so as I see that pear, I
made a snatch at it, meaning to run with it right into the house at
once."
"And you did not, John?" said Lady Scarlett.
"No, ma'am, my lady," said the old man sadly. "I got my finger all over
juiced and I sucked it and that did for me. The taste of the sin was so
good, Sir James, that I did eat that pear, thinking no one would know,
and it's lay heavy on my heart ever since."
"And what about the grapes?" said Sir James.
"I don't, know, sir; I didn't know they were gone till you see it. That
was the on'y time, sir, as ever I dared to take any of the fruit, and I
wish as I could turn myself inside out to show you how clean my heart
is, sir, of ever doing you a wrong all 'cept that there pear, which has,
as I said afore, lay heavy on my chesty ever since."
"Well, there: I don't think you took the grapes, Monnick; but it's very
vexatious: I meant to send them to Lady Martlett. You must keep a good
look out."
"Thank you kindly, sir, and I will keep a look out, too. And you don't
think I'd rob you, my lady?"
"Indeed I don't, John," cried Lady Scarlett, who was divided between a
desire to laugh and sorrow for the faithful old fellow's trouble.
"God bless your dear, sweet, kind face, my lady, and bless you too, Sir
James," said the old fellow, taking off his ragged straw hat and
standing bare-headed, "I wouldn't rob you of a leaf."
The three then separated, Sir James Scarlett and his sweet young wife
going towards the glass-houses, and old John Monnick shouldering his
spade and watching them for a few moments before going down towards
another part of the garden.
"Eh, but they're a handsome pair," he muttered. "He's a bit masterful,
but he's got a good heart, and she's an angel, like a pear-tree growed
by the water side, she is, bless her! and if I get hold of him as took
them grapes I'll--"
He gave the little box edging a blow with the flat of the spade, with
the effect that a great snail rolled out on to the path, and suffered
death beneath the old gardener's heel, being crushed and ground into the
gravel with savage earnestness.
"That I will," said the old fellow, and then he walked away, meeting
before he had gone many yards a tall, dark, grave-looking man of about
thirty, coming slowly along the path reading. He was scrupulously
attired in glossy black with tie to match, grey check trousers, and
faultless shirt front, while his hat was of the most glossy. The hands
that held the volume were white and carefully kept, while the expression
of the man's face was that of some calm, thoughtful student, who passed
the greater portion of his life with books, not men.
"Ah, gardener," he said softly, and his voice was very rich and deep,
"what a lovely day! Your garden looks exquisite. I hope you are quite
well."
"Tidy, sir, thank you kindly, tidy; and, yes, the garden do look well
just now, if we could keep out the thieves."
"Ah! yes, the birds, and slugs, and snails, and insects," said the other
with a soft, grave smile; "but we must not forget, gardener, that these
poor things do not comprehend the difference between right and wrong.
The fair fruits of the earth are growing in their path, and they do not
understand why they may not freely eat."
"No, sir, of course not," said Monnick, giving his ear a vicious rub,
"but they has to pay for it precious dear when they are ketched."
"Yes, gardener, yes, poor things," said the other, letting his head sink
sidewise; and shutting his book upon one finger he crossed his wrists so
that the work hung lightly from his shapely hand, while his eyes
half-closed and a dreamy, thoughtful look came upon his face.
"It's a deal o' mischief they do, sir, like plagues of Egyp' they'd be
if they weren't stopped."
"All, yes, gardener," said the other contemplatively, "but it often
strikes me as being one of the darker sides of horticultural pursuits,
that the gardener's way is by a path of blood."
John Monnick pushed his old straw hat a little on one side and stared.
"I saw traps down by the wood to catch the soft velvet mole, a wire by a
hole in the fence to take the harmless rabbit."
"Harmless, sir? He took the hearts out of a row of young cauliflowers
all in one night."
"Ah, yes, but he sinned in ignorance. Then you are always destroying
life. That implement you hold pierces the ground and cuts in two the
burrowing worm. There was a scent of pungent fumes in the greenhouse
and myriads of tiny flies lay scattered in the pots dead from the
poisonous smoke. You crush the snail and slug, the beetle, and the
grub. The birds are often shot. Yes, yes, I think I'm right; your path
is marked by blood, but this place is very bright and beautiful,
gardener."
"Yes, sir, it is," said Monnick, changing his spade to the other hand so
as to tilt his straw hat the other way.
"It is a privilege to come down upon this glowing summer day, from the
smoke and noise and crowd of London streets."
"Ay, sir, it must be," said the old man. "I often pity you as lives
there. I was never there but once and never want to go again."
"And I envy you, gardener," said the speaker with a sigh, and raising
his book he opened it, smiled sadly, nodded, and walked on.
"And he might do that in London town," muttered the old man. "Looks
well! of course it does; but what's the use of looking at all my bedding
plants through a book?"
"Ah!" he said as he went on, "it's all very tine, but where would the
niceness be if we didn't kill the snails? Master don't buy coke to heat
the greenhouse to breed green fly and thrip, and as to the worms, and
slugs, and grubs, there's room enough in the whole wide world without
their coming here, he's a very nice smooth-spoken gent he is, and can't
have ever cut a worm in two with digging in his blessed life; but
somehow he's too fine for me. I wonder what his mother were like now,
to have such a son. Let's see, master's mother's sister I think she
were. Ah! people's like plants, they've sports and wariations from the
payrent stock; but if I wanted to produce the finest specimen of human
kind I wouldn't graft on he."
Volume 1, Chapter II.