maidens now run after Larry Nanspian, because he is heir to Chimsworthy,
and don't give much attention to you, because you've nothing in present
and nothing in prospect. But if you were at Coombe Park they'd come
round you thick as damsels in Shushan to be seen of Ahasuerus, and Larry
Nanspian would be nowhere in their thoughts.' She laughed scornfully.
'And the fellows that turn up their noses at you now, because you eat
Langford's bread crusts and earn ninepence, how they would cringe to you
and call you sir, and run errands for you, and be thankful for a nod or
a word! Then the farmers who now call you a good-for-naught would pipe
another note, and be proud to shake hands. And Parson Robbins would
wait with his white gown on, and not venture to say, "When the wicked
man," till he saw you in the Coombe Park pew. And the landlord's door at
the "King of Bells" would be ever open to you, and his best seat by the
fire would be yours. And I--poor I--would be proud to think I'd poured
out a glass of Plymouth spirit to the young squire, and that he'd
listened to my foolish words.'
Charles tossed his head, and threw up and turned over the crown in his
trousers pocket. Then, unsolicited, he poured himself out another glass
and tossed it off. That would be a grand day when he was squire and all
Bratton was at his feet.
Mrs. Veale stood erect before him with flickering eyes. 'Do y' know the
stone steps beside the door?' she asked.
'Yes!'
'What be they put there for?'
'They are stepping-stones to help to mount into the saddle.'
'What stones be they?'
'I'm sure I can't say,'
'Right; no more does he know or care who uses them. Well, I'm naught,
but I can help you into the saddle of Coombe Park.'
*CHAPTER XVIII.*
*TREASURE TROVE.*
Charles Luxmore was not able to sleep much that night. It was not that
his conscience troubled him. He gave hardly a thought to the affair at
the circus. His imagination was excited; that delusive faculty, which,
according to Paley, is the parent of so much error and evil. The idea
of Coombe Park recurred incessantly to his mind and kept him awake. But
it was not the acquisition of wealth and position that made the prospect
so alluring; it was the hope of crowing over all those who had despised
him, of exciting the envy of those who now looked down on him.
The 'Ring of Bells' was on the Coombe estate. How he could swagger
there as the landlord's overlord! The Nanspians, Taverner Langford, had
but a few hundred acres, and the Coombe Park property was nigh on two
thousand.
Squire Impey and he would be the two great men of the place, and as the
squire at Culm Court was a hunting man, he, Charles Luxmore, would be
hand in glove with him.
It would be worth much to ride in scarlet after the hounds, with his top
boots and a black velvet cap, and the hand holding a whip curled on the
thigh so, and to jog past old Langford, and cast him a ''Do, Taverner,
this morning? Middling, eh?' and to crack the whip at Hillary Nanspian
and shout, 'Out o' the way, you cub, or I'll ride you down.' He sat up
in bed and flapped his arms, holding the blanket as reins, and clicked
with his tongue, and imagined himself galloping over the field after the
hounds at full cry. Right along Broadbury, over the fences of Langford,
across Taverner's land, tearing, breaking through the hedges of
Chimsworthy, tally-ho! With a kick, Charles sent the bedclothes flying
on to the floor.
'By George!' he said. 'We shall have a meet in front of Coombe Park,
and Honor and Kate shall serve out cherry-brandy to the huntsmen.' Then
he scrambled about the floor collecting his bed-clothes and rearranging
them. 'I'll go to Coombe Park to-morrow, and look where the kennels are
to be. I'll give an eye also to the pond. I don't believe it has been
properly cleaned out and fit for trout since the place left our hands.
I'm afraid Honor will never rise to her situation--always keep a
maid-of-all-work mind. Confound these bed-clothes, I've got them all
askew.'
So possessed was Charles with the idea that it did not forsake him when
morning came. It clung to him all the day. 'There's only a hundred
pounds wanted,' he said, 'for us to establish our claim.'
Then he paused in the work on which he was engaged. 'How am I to reach
a hundred pounds on ninepence a day, I'd like to know? Ninepence a day
is four-and-six a week, and that makes eleven guineas or thereabouts per
annum. I must have something to spend on clothing and amusement. Say I
put away seven guineas in the year, why it would take me thirteen to
fourteen years to earn a hundred pounds--going straight as a nail, not
as a screw, nor as a ferret.'
In the evening Charles wandered away to Coombe Park. The owner, a
yeoman named Pengelly, who, however, owned only the home farm, not the
entire property, had been accustomed to the visits of Oliver Luxmore,
which had been regarded as a sort of necessary nuisance. He was by no
means disposed to have his place haunted by the young man also, of whose
conduct he had received a bad report from all sides. He therefore
treated Charles with scant courtesy, and when young Luxmore tried
bluster and brag, he ordered him off the premises.
Charles returned to Langford foaming with rage. Mrs. Veale awaited him.
'The master is not home,' she said; 'where have you been?'
'Been to see my proper home,' he answered, 'and been threatened with the
constable if I did not clear away. What do you mean by giving me all
sorts of ideas and expectations, and subjecting me to insult, eh? answer
me that.'
'Don't you fly out in flaming fury, Mr. Charles.'
'I'm like to when treated as I have been. So would you. So will you, if
what I hear is like to come about. There's talk of a hare-hunt.'
'A what?'
'A hare-hunt.'
'Where?' Mrs. Veale stood before him growing deadlier white every
moment, and quivering in all her members and in every fibre of her pale
dress, in every hair of her blinking eyelids.
'Why here--at Langford.'
She caught his arm and shook him. 'You will not suffer it! You will
stay it!'
'Should they try it on, trust me,' said Charles mockingly. 'Specially
if Larry Nanspian be in it. I've a grudge against him must be paid
off.'
Mrs. Veale passed her hand over her brow. 'To think they should dare!
should dare!' she muttered. 'But you'll not suffer it. A hare-hunt!
what do they take me for?'
Charles Luxmore uttered a short ironical laugh. 'Dear blood!'[1] she
muttered, and her sharp fingers nipped and played on his arm as though
she were fingering a flute. 'You'll revenge me if they do! Trust me!
when I'm deadly wronged I can hurt, and hurt I will, and when one does
me good I repay it--to a hundred pounds.'
[1] A Devonshire expression, meaning 'Dear fellow.'
She laughed bitterly. There was something painful in her laugh. It was
devoid of mirth, and provoked no laughter. Although she said many odd
things, invented quaint similes, or used those which were traditional,
they hardly ever awoke a smile, her tone was so cheerless, husky and
unpleasant.
'So Farmer Pengelly insulted you! Ha! it would be a most laughable
conceit to prove that he had no title, and had thrown away his
thousands.'
'On Coombe Park?'
'On what else? What did he say to you?'
'Never mind what he said. What he said hurt me. He called me a
vagabond and empty pocket, and said I might go pack to the devil.'
'And when you have established your right, and shown that he bought
without a proper title, then you'd stand on the doorsteps, stick in
hand, and say, Pengelly! who has the empty pocket? Who is the vagabond
without a house? Go pack to the devil. What be you to stye in a
gentleman's mansion? Whom God Almighty made an ass bides an ass. And
cats as ain't got manners must keep off Turkey carpets.'
Then, still holding his arm, she said, 'Come here! I've never shown you
over this house; not that Langford is fit to compare with Coombe Park.
Yet this were a gentleman's house once. But what were the Langfords as
compared with the Luxmores? You'll see a Luxmore monument at the very
altar-steps o' the chancel in Bratton Church, but that of a Langford is
half-way down the nave, which shows how different they were estimated.'
After a short silence, Charles felt a spasmodic quiver pass over her,
like the thrill of a peacock when spreading its tail. 'They would have
a hare-hunt, would they, and put me to a public shame?'
'No, no, Mrs. Veale,' said Charles caressingly, 'I'll put a stop to
that; and if they venture I'll break the necks of those that have to do
with it.'
'Come with me,' said the woman hoarsely, 'I'll show you all. Here,' she
flung open the sitting-room door, 'here is the parlour where your sister
went down on her knees to the master. If he'd ha' axed her to lick his
boots she'd ha' done it--no proper pride in her--and all for ninepence a
day.'
Charles became very red in the face.
'This is the desk at which the master writes and does his accounts. In
it, I reckon, be his books. I've never seed them, and I doubt if I
could make much out of 'em if I did. Them things don't agree wi' my
faculties, as the cherub said of the armchair.'
'Does old Langford always sit in this room?'
'Oh yes! too proud to sit in the kitchen wi' such as me--not even in
winter. Then I must make his fire here every day, and have the worry of
keeping it in. There is one thing don't suit him now he is cut wi' the
Nanspians. Formerly he got all his fuel from their wood. There are no
plantations on Langford, and the old trees are cut down. When he got
his fuel at Chimsworthy he hadn't to pay, and now he must get a rick of
firing elsewhere.' She pointed to an old-fashioned cupboard in the
wall. 'There he keeps his sugar and his tea and his currants. He keeps
all under key, lest I or the maidens should steal them. Now you look at
me, and I'll show you something.' She opened an empty place under the
cupboard and knocked upwards thrice with her fist, and the glass doors
of the repository of the groceries flew open. She laughed huskily.
'There! if I strike I shoot up the bolt, and the lock won't hold the
doors together. When I press them together and shut back, down falls the
bolt.'
'That is ingenious, Mrs. Veale--stay, don't shut yet. I have a sweet
tooth, and see some raisins in the bag there.'
'Now leave them alone. I've something better to show you. Men reckon
themselves clever, but women beat them in cleverness. Go to the
fire-place. Kneel at it, and put your hand up on the left side, thrust
in your arm full length and turn the hand round.'
'I shall dirty myself. I shall get a black hand.'
'Of course you will. That is how I found it out. Don't be afraid of a
little soot. There is a sort of oven at the side. This room were not
always a parlour, I reckon; there were a large open fire-place in it,
and when the grate was put in it left the space behind not at all, or
only half, filled in--leastways, the road to the oven door was not
blocked. Have you found it?'
'Yes,' answered Charles. 'I have my hand in something.'
'And something in your hand, eh?'
'Yes, a box, a largish box.'
He drew forth a tin ease, very heavy, with a handle at the top. It was
locked with a letter padlock.
'Into that box the master puts all his savings. I reckon there be
hundreds of pounds stowed away there, may be thousands. The master
himself don't know how much. He's too afeared of being seen or heard
counting it. When he has money he takes out the box, opens it, and puts
in the gold, only gold and paper, no silver. Banks break. He will have
none of them, but this old cloam oven he thinks is secure. He may be
mistaken.'
'How did you find this out?'
'By his black hand. Whenever he had sold bullocks or sheep, and I knew
he had received money, so sure was he to come in here with a white hand
and come out with one that was black, that is how I found it. I know
more. I know the word that will open the box.'
'How did you find that out?'
'The master was himself afraid of forgetting it, and I chanced to see in
the first leaf of his Bible here in pencil the reference Gen. xxxvi. 23.
One day I chanced to look out the passage, and it was this: "The
children of Shobal were these: Alvan, and Manahath, and Ebal, Shepho,
and Onam." I thought a man must have a bad conscience to find comfort
in such a passage as that. And what do y' think? I found the same
reference in his pocket-book. Then I knew it must mean something I
didn't see the end of. And one day I were full o' light, like a
lantern. I saw it all. Do y' see, this new padlock makes only four
letter words, and in that verse there are two words of four letters, and
I found as how the master changed about. One year he took Ebal and next
year Onam. It be the turn o' Ebal now.'
Charles felt the weight of the case and turned the padlock towards him.
'Lord!' exclaimed Mrs. Veale, 'what if the master have got his thousand
or two there! It's nothing to what might be yours if you had Coombe
Park.'
Suddenly both started. Langford's voice was heard outside. Charles
hastily replaced the case where he had found it, and slipped out of the
room with Mrs. Veale, who held him and drew him after her, her nervous
fingers playing on his arm-bone as on a pipe.
'Come here,' she whispered, 'let me wash your hand. It is black. Here,
at the sink.' She chuckled as she soaped his hand and wrist. 'And here
the master have washed his, and thought I did not consider it.' Then
she quivered through her whole body and her eyes blinked. She put up
her shaking finger, and whispered 'Ebal!'
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
PRINTED BY
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