"Hallo, Scotchman!"
"Hallo, Eng--I mean French--What am I to call you, Mr Luke Vine?"
"Englishman, of course."
Uncle Luke was seated, in a very shabby-looking grey tweed Norfolk
jacket made long, a garment which suited his tastes, from its being an
easy comfortable article of attire. He had on an old Panama hat, a good
deal stained, and had a thick stick armed with a strong iron point
useful for walking among the rocks, and upon this staff he rested as he
sat outside his cottage door watching the sea and pondering as to the
probability of a shoal of fish being off the point.
His home with its tiny scrap of rough walled-in garden, which grew
nothing but sea holly and tamarisk, was desolate-looking in the extreme,
but the view therefrom of the half natural pier sheltering the vessels
in the harbour of the twin town was glorious.
He had had his breakfast and taken his seat out in the sunshine, when he
became aware of the fact that Duncan Leslie was coming down from the
mine buildings above, and he hailed him with a snarl and the above
words.
"Glorious morning."
"Humph! Yes, but what's that got to do with you?"
"Everything. Do you suppose I don't like fine weather?"
"I thought you didn't care for anything but money-grubbing."
"Then you were mistaken, because I do."
"Nonsense! You think of nothing but copper, spoiling the face of nature
with the broken rubbish your men dig out of the bowels of the earth,
poisoning the air with the fumes of those abominable furnaces. Look at
that!"
The old man raised his stick and made a vicious dig with it in the
direction of the mine.
"Look at what?"
"That shaft. Looks like some huge worm that your men disturbed down
below, and sent it crawling along the hill slope till it could rear its
abominable head in the air and look which way to go to be at rest."
"It was there when I took the mine, and it answers its purpose."
"Bah! What purpose? To make money?"
"Yes; to make money. Very useful thing, Mr Luke."
"Rubbish! You're as bad as Van Heldre with his ships and his smelting
works. Money! Money! Money! Always money, morning, noon, and night.
One constant hunt for the accursed stuff. Look at me!"
"I was looking at you, old fellow; and studying you."
"Humph! Waste of time, unless you follow my example."
"Then it will be waste of time, sir, for I certainly shall not follow
your example."
"Why not, boy? Look at me. I have no troubles. I pay no rent. My
wants are few. I am nearly independent of tradespeople and tax men.
I've no slatternly wife to worry me, no young children to be always
tumbling down the rocks or catching the measles. I'm free of all these
troubles, and I'm a happy man."
"Well, then, your appearance belies you, sir, for you do not look it,"
said Leslie laughing.
"Never you mind my appearance," said Uncle Luke sharply. "I am happy;
at least, I should be, if you'd do away with that great smoky chimney
and stop those rattling stamps."
"Then I'm afraid that I cannot oblige you, neighbour."
"Humph! Neighbour!"
"I fancy that an unbiassed person would blame you and not me."
"Of course he would."
"He'd say if a man chooses to turn himself into a sort of modern
Diogenes--"
"Diogenes be hanged, sir! All a myth. I don't believe there ever was
such a body. And look here, Leslie, I imitate no man--no myth. I
prefer to live this way for my own satisfaction, and I shall."
"And welcome for me, old fellow; only don't scold me for living my way."
"Not going to. Here, stop! I want to talk to you. How's copper?"
"Up a good deal, but you don't want to know."
"Of course I don't. But look here. What do you think of my nephew?"
"Tall, good-looking young fellow."
"Humph! What's the good of that? You know all about him, of course?"
"I should prefer not to sit in judgment on the gentleman in question."
"So I suppose. Nice boy, though, isn't he?"
Leslie was silent.
"I say he's a nice boy, isn't he?" cried the old man, raising his voice.
"I heard what you said. He is your nephew."
"Worse luck! How is he getting on at Van Heldre's?"
"I have not the least idea, sir."
"More have I. They won't tell me. How about that friend of his? What
do you think of him?"
"Really, Mr Vine," said Leslie, laughing, "I do not set up as a judge
of young men's character. It is nothing to me."
"Yes, it is. Do you suppose I'm blind? Do you suppose I can't tell
which way the wind blows? If I were young, do you know what I should
do?"
"Do away with the chimney-shaft and the stamps," said Leslie, laughing.
"No; I should just get hold of that fellow some night, and walk him to
where the coach starts."
Leslie's face looked warm.
"And then I should say, `Jump up, and when you get to the station, book
for London; and if ever you show your face in Hakemouth again I'll break
your neck.'"
"You must excuse me, Mr Luke; I'm busy this morning," said Leslie, and
he began to descend the steep path.
"Touched him on the tender place," said Uncle Luke, with a chuckle.
"Humph! wonder whether Louie will come and see me to-day."
Duncan Leslie went on down the zigzag cliff-path leading from the Wheal
Germains copper-mine to the town. It was a picturesque way, with a
fresh view at every turn west and east; and an advanced member of the
town board had proposed and carried the suggestion of placing rough
granite seats here and there in the best parts for resting those who
climbed, and for giving others attractive places for sunning themselves
and looking out to sea.
About half-way down Leslie passed an invalid, who had taken possession
of a seat, and was gazing right away south, and dreaming of lands where
the sun always shone--wondering whether the bright maiden Health could
be found there.
Lower still Leslie was going on thoughtfully, pondering on Uncle Luke's
hints, when the blood suddenly flushed into his cheeks, his heart began
to beat rapidly, and he increased his pace. For there unmistakably were
two ladies going down the zigzag, and there were no two others in
Hakemouth could be mistaken for them.
He hurried on to overtake them. Then he checked himself.
"Where had they been?"
His sinking heart suggested that they had been on their way to visit
Uncle Luke, but that they had caught sight of him, and in consequence
returned.
His brow grew gloomy, and he walked slowly on, when the blood flushed to
his cheeks again, as if he had been surprised in some guilty act, for a
sharp voice said--
"No, Mr Leslie; you would not be able to overtake them now."
He stopped short, and turned to the warm sheltered nook among the rocks
where Aunt Margaret was seated; her grey lavender dress was carefully
spread about her, her white hair turned back beneath a black velvet
satin-lined hood, and a lace fichu pinned across her breast.
"You here, Miss Vine?"
"Yes; and I thought I would save you a thankless effort. You could not
overtake the girls unless you ran."
"I was not going to try and overtake them, Miss Vine," said Leslie
coldly.
"Indeed! I beg your pardon; I thought you were. But would you mind,
Mr Leslie--it is a very trifling request, but I set store by these
little relics of our early history--Miss _Marguerite_ Vine, if you would
be so kind?"
Leslie bowed. "Certainly, Miss Marguerite," he said quietly.
"Thank you," she said, detaining him. "It is very good of you. Of
course you are surprised to see me up here?"
"Oh no," said Leslie quietly. "It is a delightful place to sit and rest
and read."
"Ye-es; but I cannot say that I care much for the rough walking of this
part of the world, and my brother seems somehow to have taken quite a
dislike to the idea of having a carriage?"
"Yes?"
"So I am obliged to walk when I do come out. There are certain duties
one is forced to attend to. For instance, there is my poor brother up
yonder. I feel bound to see him from time to time. You see him
frequently, of course?"
"Every day, necessarily. We are so near."
"Poor fellow! yes. Very eccentric and peculiar; but you need be under
no apprehension, Mr Leslie. He is quite harmless, I am sure."
"Oh, quite harmless, Miss Marguerite. Merely original."
"It is very good of you to call it originality; but as friends, Mr
Leslie, there is no harm in our alluding to his poor brain. Softening,
a medical man told me."
"Hardening, I should say," thought Leslie.
"Very peculiar! very peculiar! Father and uncle both so different from
my dear nephew. He is in very bad spirits. Ah! Mr Leslie, I shall be
very glad to see him once more as a Des Vignes should be. With him
placed in the position that should be his, and that engagement carried
out regarding my darling Louise's future, I could leave this world of
sorrow without a sigh."
Leslie winced, but it was not perceptible to Aunt Marguerite, who,
feeling dissatisfied with the result of her shot, fired again.
"Of course it would involve losing my darling; but at my time of life,
Mr Leslie, one has learned that it is one's duty always to study
self-sacrifice. The Des Vignes were always a self-sacrificing family.
When it was not for some one or other of their kindred it was for their
king, and then for their faith. You know our old French motto, Mr
Leslie?"
"I? No. I beg pardon."
"Really? I should have thought that you could not fail to see that. It
is almost the only trace of our former greatness that my misguided
brother--"
"Were you alluding to Mr Luke Vine?"
"No, no, no, no! To my brother, George des Vignes. Surely, Mr Leslie,
you must have noted our arms upon the dining-room windows."
"Oh, yes, of course, of course; and the motto, _Roy et Foy_."
"Exactly," said Aunt Marguerite, smiling. "I thought it must have
caught your eye." Something else was catching Duncan Leslie's eye just
then--the last flutter of the scarf Louise wore before it disappeared
round the foot of the cliff.
"I shall bear it, I dare say, and with fortitude, Mr Leslie, for it
will be a grand position that she will take. The De Lignys are a family
almost as old as our own; and fate might arrange for me to visit them
and make a long stay. She's a sweet girl, is she not, Mr Leslie?"
"Miss Vine? Yes; you must be very proud of her," said the young man,
without moving a muscle.
"We are; we are indeed, Mr Leslie; but I am afraid I am detaining you."
"It is curious," said Leslie, as he walked slowly down the cliff-path.
"De Ligny, De Ligny? Who is De Ligny? Well," he added with a sigh, "I
ought to thank Heaven that the name is not Pradelle."
Volume 1, Chapter IX.