Dick Smithson found himself face to face with a problem that grew harder
to solve the more he tried, and, as he lay awake at night, the words of
the old, old ballad used to come to him:--
"And for as you have made your bed, so on it you must lie."
A barrack bed, too--a very hard, thin, single Glo'ster-cheese sort of
bed! And yet it seemed at the first sight so easy to jump out of it, go
and see the colonel--no; he could talk to Lieutenant Lacey, who was
always so friendly, and that gentleman would tell the colonel.
Oh, it would be simple enough! So long as it meant his voluntary exile,
it was not of so much consequence; and he had always kept in reserve the
time when he could go back to his old position in society. But now he
found that when he leaped down it was from a high perpendicular rock,
and the base of that rock stood in. Around, too, it was smooth; and,
now jumping back was out of the question, climbing appeared impossible.
What was to be done? He could not sit still and let Mark hold his title
and position without a struggle; but how to begin?
Naturally enough, the old state of calm passed away, and Dick's brain
was in a state of effervescence as he waited three days for an
opportunity to meet and consult with Jerry Brigley. For this had been
planned at parting, after Jerry had sworn to be silent until some plan
of action had been decided upon.
At last Jerry and he met again, and this time went off for a walk
towards the country, accidentally taking the road which Dick had
followed when he first entered the town.
For some time the great subject they had met to discuss was avoided, and
they talked about the country round, with its hills and hop-gardens,
till Jerry drifted from a remark on the beauty of a sheep-cropped,
velvet-green field, with its lawn-like grass, into a lesson on one of
the follies of the day.
"Yes, sir," he said; "feel how soft it is under your feet! Turf's a
lovely thing when it's lawns; but when it's horse-racing, and gets hold
on yer tight, it's a sort o' Bedlam-Hanwelly business. Don't you never
bet, sir. If I hadn't never betted, I should ha' been a rich man now,
with two hundred pound in the savings bank, instead of being a private
soldier--me, too, as knows more about valetting a gent than half the
chaps as goes into service."
"Ah, well, Jerry, don't fret about it; things may get better."
"Ay, sir, they may; but then, you see, they might get wuss."
"Or half-way between. Let's sit down under this tree; I want to talk."
"Not a bad place, sir--fine view o' the Kentish hills. What money a man
might make out of chalk, if he had it in some place ready to sell, and
people would buy it! Mind my lighting a pipe, sir?"
"Mind? No; I've got pretty well hardened to people smoking about me
now. Sorry I can't offer you a cigar, Jerry."
"Pipe's good enough for such as me, sir. There," continued the man, as
he filled his briar-root, "aren't I keeping my tongue well in hand?
Haven't called you S'Richard once."
"And you must not, whatever you do."
"Well, sir," said Jerry, lighting up, and half-shutting his eyes as he
leaned back meditatively, "sometimes I don't see why not; sometimes it's
all t'other. One day I says to myself, `What's he got to mind? He's
livin', and it's all nonsense about his being dead and buried; and, as
to that business over the bill and the signature, why, he could fight
that down like a gentleman.'"
"Yes, Jerry," said Dick, dismally; "but I ran away like a coward, and
that was like a tacit confession of guilt."
"Like a what confession o' guilt?"
"Silent."
"No, sir: you said something else."
"Tacit, man--tacit."
"Oh, was it, sir. Well, if you say it was tacit, I 'spose it was.
Never heered o' that sort o' confession before; it was always open
confession. But, as I was a-saying, one day I thinks as I just said;
next day it's all the other way. I don't want to put you out o' heart,
sir; but, as you very well know, being quite a scholar, and having read
o' these things lots o' times, there's an old saying about possession
being nine points of the law. He's got possession tight, and, if you go
and tell him he must give it up now, he'll say--"
"Well, what, Jerry?"
"Don't like to tell you, sir, for fear of giving offence."
"Speak out, man; speak out, and don't say `sir' to me again while we are
equals here in the army."
"Ekals, sir? Bein' both in the ranks don't make us ekal."
"But it must not be known at present, and if you keep calling me `sir'
you may ruin my prospects."
"All right, then; I won't say it--I'll think it, and that'll make it
easier, because I can think the other the same time."
"What other?"
"The Richard. I shall allus say `S'Richard' to myself."
"Very well, do. But, mind--I trust you."
"And you may, sir. It seems to me--as I was going to say--if you won't
be offended--"
"Go on, man," cried Richard; "nothing will offend me now."
"Oh! won't it? You're as big a honourable gent now as ever you was;
but, if you was to go to your cousin, sir, he'd call you a impostor."
"I'm afraid so, Jerry."
"And, if you turn nasty with him, he'll tell you to go down in the
country there, and look at your grave."
Dick was silent.
"But don't you be downhearted, sir. You shall have your rights. What
d'ye say to sending a petition to the Queen? I'm told that she's a very
nice old lady, when you know her."
Dick laughed.
"Why should she believe me?"
"Because you're a gent, sir. Anybody could see that with half a heye.
But, look here, sir, there--"
"Will you leave off saying `sir'? I am Dick Smithson."
"Oh, very well, Dick Smithson. There must be a way out of the wood.
What do you say to me killing him--by accident?"
"I say, talk sense, man!"
"Right; I will. I wish I was in your regiment, though. One could see
you oft'ner like, and settle things with you. I s'pose if I was to
desert and 'list in yours, they'd make a row about it?"
"No doubt about that, Jerry."
"There wouldn't be no harm. I should only have changed from one
regiment to another."
"You know enough about a soldier's duties to the colours, man. But I
wish you were in the 205th with all my heart."
"And in your company? I could valet you just as I used to."
"Nonsense! I'm not in any company; and for me to have a servant would
be impossible as well as absurd."
"Well, I can't see as it would be absurd, because you, being a gent,
ought to have your servant. But, to come back to my being in your
regiment--ain't there no way of managing it?"
"I don't know, Jerry. Officers exchange."
"There you are: allus a way out of a difficulty, if you can find it.
Officers exchange; why shouldn't privates? I could be no end o' use to
you, Dick Smithson. S'pose we try?"
Dick laughed, and shook his head.
"Impossible, Jerry! We must be content as we are for the present, and
meet now and then, and talk matters over till I see my way to get out of
this position."
And it was in this way that they parted.
About a week later Dick was summoned to the lieutenant's rooms; and,
upon reaching them, it was quite plain that something was wrong. For
Lacey looked black as thunder as he walked up and down.
"What have I done to offend him?" thought Dick, as he waited for the
young officer to speak.
"Sit down!" growled Lacey; and Dick obeyed.
"It's beyond bearing!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "I'll clean my own
boots, and brush my own clothes. I'm sick of it!"
"Nothing to do with me," thought Dick; and he ventured a remark.
"Can I help you in any way, sir?"
"No--yes; play something soothing to me. I'm put out. No, don't. It's
like making a fool of myself."
Dick thought so, too, but he did not say anything; while the lieutenant
went on pacing the room for a few minutes, and then faced round.
"What do you think he has done now?"
"Who, sir--the colonel?"
"Bah! no: that idiot servant of mine?"
"Broke something, sir?"
"No!" roared the lieutenant; "I wish he had--his neck! Can I trust you,
Smithson?"
Dick bowed.
"Yes; one can confide in you, Smithson. You remember--er--er--a little
adventure of ours--the serenade?"
"Oh, yes, sir!"
"I hardly care to refer to it, Smithson; but, as I think I said before,
I always feel as if I can trust you."
Dick bowed again, and felt disposed to laugh; but his face was
extra-serious as the lieutenant went on--
"The fact is, we made a great mistake, Smithson, and that duet was
played under the wrong window. There is an aunt there--and--and--she is
not young."
"I presumed so, sir, from the voice," said Dick, for the young officer
waited.
"There is no presumption about it, Smithson; you were quite right. She
is still single. Miss--well--er--since then--er--we have met."
"You and the aunt, sir?"
"Smithson, this is no matter for ribald jest," said the lieutenant,
sharply.
"I beg pardon, sir; I meant to be quite serious."
"I thank you, Smithson. You will grasp what I mean when you grow older.
You may come to feel as I have felt for months past."
"I hope not!" thought Dick.
"I will continue, Smithson. We have met since, more than once; and
yesterday I sent that idiot with a note."
"And he gave it to the wrong person, sir?"
"What! You have heard?"
"Oh, no, sir; but it is what I should have expected him to do."
"You are quite right; and I ought to have known better. He took the
letter, and delivered it to the aunt. Smithson, I am in agony! She has
responded to me, thinking my words were meant for her. I walked by
there an hour ago and saw her, and--oh, Smithson!--she smiled. What is
to be done?"
Dick was silent for a minute, not knowing how to answer the question;
then a way out of the difficulty came.
"I'll tell you, sir! You must discharge that fellow."
"I did, Smithson--at once. I was in such a rage that I kicked him; and
I fear that there will be some trouble about that, if he reports it to
his superior officer."
"Pooh! Give him half a sovereign, sir, and you'll hear no more about
it."
"That's very good advice, Smithson. I wish I had your head."
"You want a good, clever, smart servant, sir," said Dick, who was
breathless with excitement consequent upon his new idea.
"Yes, Smithson; but such a treasure seems to be unobtainable."
"I don't know--I think I could find you such a man, sir."
"You could! Oh, no; I want a regular valet, Smithson. I have grown
sadly indolent, and I often wish a war would break out to rouse me up."
"This is a regular valet, sir."
"But--really, Smithson, I'm afraid I'm very lazy--can he shave?"
"Oh, yes, sir, and cut hair admirably."
"Indeed? A friend of yours?"
"Well, sir, not exactly; I used to know him."
"Whose company is he in?"
"Unfortunately, sir, he is not in this regiment."
"Smithson! how can you?" cried the lieutenant in lachrymose tones.
"What is the use of raising my hopes to dash them down? Is he a man of
bad character who wants to join?"
"No, sir; he is a soldier already; but he is in the 310th, sir--the
regiment we `played in' the other day."
"In the 310th?" said the lieutenant, thoughtfully.
"And, of course, not available, sir."
"Is he anyone else's servant?"
"He is simply a private, sir."
"Then--I don't know, though. Perhaps I might--or I could--I--how
tiresome!"
For at that moment Dick sprang from his seat, as he heard steps outside.
"You at home, Lacey?" cried a voice.
"Yes: come in."