_BARTRAM-HAUGH_
In a moment a tall, lithe girl, black-haired, black-eyed, and, as I
thought, inexpressibly handsome, was smiling, with such beautiful rings of
pearly teeth, at the window; and in her peculiar accent, with a suspicion
of something foreign in it, proposing with many courtesies to tell the lady
her fortune.
I had never seen this wild tribe of the human race before--children of
mystery and liberty. Such vagabondism and beauty in the figure before me!
I looked at their hovels and thought of the night, and wondered at their
independence, and felt my inferiority. I could not resist. She held up her
slim oriental hand.
'Yes, I'll hear my fortune,' I said, returning the sibyl's smile
instinctively.
'Give me some money, Mary Quince. No, _not_ that,' I said, rejecting the
thrifty sixpence she tendered, for I had heard that the revelations of
this weird sisterhood were bright in proportion to the kindness of their
clients, and was resolved to approach Bartram with cheerful auguries. 'That
five-shilling piece,' I insisted; and honest Mary reluctantly surrendered
the coin.
So the feline beauty took it, with courtesies and 'thankees,' smiling
still, and hid it away as if she stole it, and looked on my open palm still
smiling; and told me, to my surprise, that there was _somebody_ I liked
very much, and I was almost afraid she would name Captain Oakley; that he
would grow very rich, and that I should marry him; that I should move about
from place to place a great deal for a good while to come. That I had some
enemies, who should be sometimes so near as to be in the same room with me,
and yet they should not be able to hurt me. That I should see blood spilt
and yet not my own, and finally be very happy and splendid, like the
heroine of a fairy tale.
Did this strange, girlish charlatan see in my face some signs of shrinking
when she spoke of enemies, and set me down for a coward whose weakness
might be profitable? Very likely. At all events she plucked a long brass
pin, with a round bead for a head, from some part of her dress, and holding
the point in her fingers, and exhibiting the treasure before my eyes, she
told me that I must get a charmed pin like that, which her grandmother had
given to her, and she ran glibly through a story of all the magic expended
on it, and told me she could not part with it; but its virtue was that you
were to stick it through the blanket, and while it was there neither rat,
nor cat, nor snake--and then came two more terms in the catalogue, which I
suppose belonged to the gipsy dialect, and which she explained to mean, as
well as I could understand, the first a malevolent spirit, and the second
'a cove to cut your throat,' could approach or hurt you.
A charm like that, she gave me to understand, I must by hook or by crook
obtain. She had not a second. None of her people in the camp over there
possessed one. I am ashamed to confess that I actually paid her a pound for
this brass pin! The purchase was partly an indication of my temperament,
which could never let an opportunity pass away irrevocably without a
struggle, and always apprehended 'Some day or other I'll reproach myself
for having neglected it!' and partly a record of the trepidations of that
period of my life. At all events I had her pin, and she my pound, and I
venture to say I was the gladder of the two.
She stood on the road-side bank courtseying and smiling, the first
enchantress I had encountered, and I watched the receding picture, with its
patches of firelight, its dusky groups and donkey carts, white as skeletons
in the moonlight, as we drove rapidly away.
They, I suppose, had a wild sneer and a merry laugh over my purchase, as
they sat and ate their supper of stolen poultry, about their fire, and were
duly proud of belonging to the superior race.
Mary Quince, shocked at my prodigality, hinted a remonstrance.
'It went to my heart, Miss, it did. They're such a lot, young and old, all
alike thieves and vagabonds, and many a poor body wanting.'
'Tut, Mary, never mind. Everyone has her fortune told some time in her
life, and you can't have a good one without paying. I think, Mary, we must
be near Bartram now.'
The road now traversed the side of a steep hill, parallel to which,
along the opposite side of a winding river, rose the dark steeps of a
corresponding upland, covered with forest that looked awful and dim in the
deep shadow, while the moonlight rippled fitfully upon the stream beneath.
'It seems to be a beautiful country,' I said to Mary Quince, who was
munching a sandwich in the corner, and thus appealed to, adjusted her
bonnet, and made an inspection from _her_ window, which, however, commanded
nothing but the heathy slope of the hill whose side we were traversing.
'Well, Miss, I suppose it is; but there's a deal o' mountains--is not
there?'
And so saying, honest Mary leaned back again, and went on with her
sandwich.
We were now descending at a great pace. I knew we were coming near. I stood
up as well as I could in the carriage, to see over the postilions' heads.
I was eager, but frightened too; agitated as the crisis of the arrival and
meeting approached. At last, a long stretch of comparatively level
country below us, with masses of wood as well as I could see irregularly
overspreading it, became visible as the narrow valley through which we were
speeding made a sudden bend.
Down we drove, and now I did perceive a change. A great grass-grown
park-wall, overtopped with mighty trees; but still on and on we came at a
canter that seemed almost a gallop. The old grey park-wall flanking us at
one side, and a pretty pastoral hedgerow of ash-trees, irregularly on the
other.
At last the postilions began to draw bridle, and at a slight angle, the
moon shining full upon them, we wheeled into a wide semicircle formed by
the receding park-walls, and halted before a great fantastic iron gate, and
a pair of tall fluted piers, of white stone, all grass-grown and ivy-bound,
with great cornices, surmounted with shields and supporters, the Ruthyn
bearings washed by the rains of Derbyshire for many a generation of
Ruthyns, almost smooth by this time, and looking bleached and phantasmal,
like giant sentinels, with each a hand clasped in his comrade's, to bar
our passage to the enchanted castle--the florid tracery of the iron gate
showing like the draperies of white robes hanging from their extended arms
to the earth.
Our courier got down and shoved the great gate open, and we entered,
between sombre files of magnificent forest trees, one of those very broad
straight avenues whose width measures the front of the house. This was all
built of white stone, resembling that of Caen, which parts of Derbyshire
produce in such abundance.
So this was Bartram, and here was Uncle Silas. I was almost breathless as
I approached. The bright moon shining full on the white front of the old
house revealed not only its highly decorated style, its fluted pillars and
doorway, rich and florid carving, and balustraded summit, but also its
stained and moss-grown front. Two giant trees, overthrown at last by the
recent storm, lay with their upturned roots, and their yellow foliage still
flickering on the sprays that were to bloom no more, where they had fallen,
at the right side of the court-yard, which, like the avenue, was studded
with tufted weeds and grass.
All this gave to the aspect of Bartram a forlorn character of desertion and
decay, contrasting almost awfully with the grandeur of its proportions and
richness of its architecture.
There was a ruddy glow from a broad window in the second row, and I thought
I saw some one peep from it and disappear; at the same moment there was a
furious barking of dogs, some of whom ran scampering into the court-yard
from a half-closed side door; and amid their uproar, the bawling of the man
in the back seat, who jumped down to drive them off, and the crack of
the postilions' whips, who struck at them, we drew up before the lordly
door-steps of this melancholy mansion.
Just as our attendant had his hand on the knocker the door opened, and we
saw, by a not very brilliant candle-light, three figures--a shabby little
old man, thin, and very much stooped, with a white cravat, and looking as
if his black clothes were too large, and made for some one else, stood with
his hand upon the door; a young, plump, but very pretty female figure, in
unusually short petticoats, with fattish legs, and nice ankles, in boots,
stood in the centre; and a dowdy maid, like an old charwoman, behind her.
The household paraded for welcome was not certainly very brilliant. Amid
the riot the trunks were deliberately put down by our attendant, who kept
shouting to the old man at the door, and to the dogs in turn; and the old
man was talking and pointing stiffly and tremulously, but I could not hear
what he said.
'Was it possible--could that mean-looking old man be Uncle Silas?'
The idea stunned me; but I almost instantly perceived that he was much too
small, and I was relieved, and even grateful. It was certainly an odd mode
of procedure to devote primary attention to the trunks and boxes, leaving
the travellers still shut up in the carriage, of which they were by this
time pretty well tired. I was not sorry for the reprieve, however: being
nervous about first impressions, and willing to defer mine, I sat shyly
back, peeping at the candle and moonlight picture before me, myself unseen.
'Will you tell--yes or no--is my cousin in the coach?' screamed the plump
young lady, stamping her stout black boot, in a momentary lull.
Yes, I was there, sure.
'And why the puck don't you let her out, you stupe, you?'
'Run down, Giblets, you never do nout without driving, and let Cousin Maud
out. You're very welcome to Bartram.' This greeting was screamed at an
amazing pitch, and repeated before I had time to drop the window, and say
'thank you.' 'I'd a let you out myself--there's a good dog, you would na'
bite Cousin' (the parenthesis was to a huge mastiff, who thrust himself
beside her, by this time quite pacified)--'only I daren't go down the
steps, for the governor said I shouldn't.'
The venerable person who went by the name of Giblets had by this time
opened the carriage door, and our courier, or 'boots'--he looked more like
the latter functionary--had lowered the steps, and in greater trepidation
than I experienced when in after-days I was presented to my sovereign,
I glided down, to offer myself to the greeting and inspection of the
plain-spoken young lady who stood at the top of the steps to receive me.
She welcomed me with a hug and a hearty buss, as she called that
salutation, on each cheek, and pulled me into the hall, and was evidently
glad to see me.
'And you're tired a bit, I warrant; and who's the old 'un, who?' she asked
eagerly, in a stage whisper, which made my ear numb for five minutes after.
'Oh, oh, the maid! and a precious old 'un--ha, ha, ha! But lawk! how grand
she is, with her black silk, cloak and crape, and I only in twilled cotton,
and rotten old Coburg for Sundays. Odds! it's a shame; but you'll be tired,
you will. It's a smartish pull, they do say, from Knowl. I know a spell of
it, only so far as the "Cat and Fiddle," near the Lunnon-road. Come up,
will you? Would you like to come in first and talk a bit wi' the governor?
Father, you know, he's a bit silly, he is, this while.' I found that
the phrase meant only _bodily_ infirmity. 'He took a pain o' Friday,
newralgie--something or other he calls it--rheumatics it is when it takes
old "Giblets" there; and he's sitting in his own room; or maybe you'd like
better to come to your bedroom first, for it is dirty work travelling, they
do say.'
Yes; I preferred the preliminary adjustment. Mary Quince was standing
behind me; and as my voluble kinswoman talked on, we had each ample time
and opportunity to observe the personnel of the other; and she made no
scruple of letting me perceive that she was improving it, for she stared me
full in the face, taking in evidently feature after feature; and she felt
the material of my mantle pretty carefully between her finger and thumb,
and manually examined my chain and trinkets, and picked up my hand as she
might a glove, to con over my rings.
I can't say, of course, exactly what impression I may have produced on her.
But in my cousin Milly I saw a girl who looked younger than her years,
plump, but with a slender waist, with light hair, lighter than mine, and
very blue eyes, rather round; on the whole very good-looking. She had an
odd swaggering walk, a toss of her head, and a saucy and imperious, but
rather good-natured and honest countenance. She talked rather loud, with a
good ringing voice, and a boisterous laugh when it came.
If _I_ was behind the fashion, what would Cousin Monica have thought of
her? She was arrayed, as she had stated, in black twilled cotton expressive
of her affliction; but it was made almost as short in the skirt as that of
the prints of the Bavarian broom girls. She had white cotton stockings,
and a pair of black leather boots, with leather buttons, and, for a lady,
prodigiously thick soles, which reminded me of the navvy boots I had so
often admired in _Punch_. I must add that the hands with which she assisted
her scrutiny of my dress, though pretty, were very much sunburnt indeed.
'And what's _her_ name?' she demanded, nodding to Mary Quince, who was
gazing on her awfully, with round eyes, as an inland spinster might upon a
whale beheld for the first time.
Mary courtesied, and I answered.
'Mary Quince,' she repeated. 'You're welcome, Quince. What shall I call
her? I've a name for all o' them. Old Giles there, is Giblets. He did not
like it first, but he answers quick enough now; and Old Lucy Wyat there,'
nodding toward the old woman, 'is Lucia de l'Amour.' A slightly erroneous
reading of Lammermoor, for my cousin sometimes made mistakes, and was not
much versed in the Italian opera. 'You know it's a play, and I call her
L'Amour for shortness;' and she laughed hilariously, and I could not
forbear joining; and, winking at me, she called aloud, 'L'Amour.'
To which the crone, with a high-cauled cap, resembling Mother Hubbard,
responded with a courtesy and 'Yes, 'm.'
'Are all the trunks and boxes took up?'
They were.
'Well, we'll come now; and what shall I call you, Quince? Let me see.'
'According to your pleasure, Miss,' answered Mary, with dignity, and a dry
courtesy.
'Why, you're as hoarse as a frog, Quince. We'll call you Quinzy for the
present. That'll do. Come along, Quinzy.'
So my Cousin Milly took me under the arm, and pulled me forward; but as we
ascended, she let me go, leaning back to make inspection of my attire from
a new point of view.
'Hallo, cousin,' she cried, giving my dress a smack with her open hand.
'What a plague do you want of all that bustle; you'll leave it behind,
lass, the first bush you jump over.'
I was a good deal astounded. I was also very near laughing, for there was
a sort of importance in her plump countenance, and an indescribable
grotesqueness in the fashion of her garments, which heightened the
outlandishness of her talk, in a way which I cannot at all describe.
What palatial wide stairs those were which we ascended, with their
prodigious carved banisters of oak, and each huge pillar on the
landing-place crowned with a shield and carved heraldic supporters; florid
oak panelling covered the walls. But of the house I could form no estimate,
for Uncle Silas's housekeeping did not provide light for hall and passages,
and we were dependent on the glimmer of a single candle; but there would be
quite enough of this kind of exploration in the daylight.
So along dark oak flooring we advanced to my room, and I had now an
opportunity of admiring, at my leisure, the lordly proportions of the
building. Two great windows, with dark and tarnished curtains, rose half as
high again as the windows of Knowl; and yet Knowl, in its own style, is a
fine house. The door-frames, like the window-frames, were richly carved;
the fireplace was in the same massive style, and the mantelpiece projected
with a mass of very rich carving. On the whole I was surprised. I had never
slept in so noble a room before.
The furniture, I must confess, was by no means on a par with the
architectural pretensions of the apartment. A French bed, a piece of carpet
about three yards square, a small table, two chairs, a toilet table--no
wardrobe--no chest of drawers. The furniture painted white, and of the
light and diminutive kind, was particularly ill adapted to the scale and
style of the apartment, one end only of which it occupied, and that but
sparsely, leaving the rest of the chamber in the nakedness of a stately
desolation. My cousin Milly ran away to report progress to 'the Governor,'
as she termed Uncle Silas.
'Well, Miss Maud, I never did expect to see the like o' that!' exclaimed
honest Mary Quince, 'Did you ever see such a young lady? She's no more like
one o' the family than I am. Law bless us! and what's she dressed like?
Well, well, well!' And Mary, with a rueful shake of her head, clicked her
tongue pathetically to the back of her teeth, while I could not forbear
laughing.
'And such a scrap o' furniture! Well, well, well!' and the same ticking of
the tongue followed.
But, in a few minutes, back came Cousin Milly, and, with a barbarous
sort of curiosity, assisted in unpacking my trunks, and stowing away the
treasures, on which she ventured a variety of admiring criticisms, in the
presses which, like cupboards, filled recesses in the walls, with great oak
doors, the keys of which were in them.
As I was making my hurried toilet, she entertained me now and then with
more strictly personal criticisms.
'Your hair's a shade darker than mine--it's none the better o' that
though--is it? Mine's said to be the right shade. I don't know--what do you
say?'
I conceded the point with a good grace.
'I wish my hands was as white though--you do lick me there; but it's all
gloves, and I never could abide 'em. I think I'll try though--they _are_
very white, sure.'
'I wonder which is the prettiest, you or me? _I_ don't know, _I_'m
sure--which do _you_ think?'
I laughed outright at this challenge, and she blushed a little, and for the
first time seemed for a moment a little shy.
'Well, you _are_ a half an inch longer than me, I think--don't you?'
I was fully an inch taller, so I had no difficulty in making the proposed
admission.
'Well, you do look handsome! doesn't she, Quinzy, lass? but your frock
comes down almost to your heels--it does.'
And she glanced from mine to hers, and made a little kick up with the heel
of the navvy boot to assist her in measuring the comparative distance.
'Maybe mine's a thought too short?' she suggested. 'Who's there? Oh! it's
you, is it?' she cried as Mother Hubbard appeared at the door. 'Come in,
L'Amour--don't you know, lass, you're always welcome?'
She had come to let us know that Uncle Silas would be happy to see me
whenever I was ready; and that my cousin Millicent would conduct me to the
room where he awaited me.
In an instant all the comic sensations awakened by my singular cousin's
eccentricities vanished, and I was thrilled with awe. I was about to see
in the flesh--faded, broken, aged, but still identical--that being who had
been the vision and the problem of so many years of my short life.