"I'll not stand it, that I won't, Master Digby. To think that you, a
young gentleman who has plenty to eat and drink of everything that's
nice, and more than enough, too, should come and put your fingers
through the paper into my jam pots, which I've just been and nicely tied
down, and all for mischief's sake, it's not to be borne, let me tell
you. You've been and eaten up a whole pot of raspberry jam, and better
than half a one of greengage. I wonder you are not sick with it. If
you ever do it again, I'll leave your honoured father's service sooner
than submit to such behaviour, that I will--remember, Master Digby."
These exclamations were uttered by Mrs Carter, the housekeeper at
Bloxholme Hall, the residence of Mr Heathcote, the representative of
one of the oldest families in the county.
The culprit thus addressed, who had been caught in _flagrante delicto_,
stood before her with very sticky fingers, his countenance, however,
wearing anything but an expression of penitence.
"I like jam, and you don't give me enough in my puddings," was the only
excuse he deigned to offer for his conduct.
"You'll go without it altogether, Master Digby, let me tell you,"
retorted Mrs Carter. She was the only person in the establishment who
ventured to thwart the young gentleman, though he did not love the old
lady the worse for that.
Digby was Mr Heathcote's eldest son and heir. He had just attained the
mature age of nine years, and had hitherto in many respects been
considerably spoilt. Mr Heathcote had not succeeded to his property
till rather late in life, and he had not till then married. A son had
long been wished-for, and when one was given, the grateful hearts of the
parents felt that they could not prize him too much. Too thankful they
might not have been, but they petted and indulged him more than was for
his good. He had also three elder sisters. They, in their fondness,
did their best to spoil him; indeed, as Mrs Carter used to observe to
Alesbury, the butler, she was afraid Master Digby would soon become as
much of a pickle as any she had in her store-room. He was a sturdy
little fellow, with fat, rosy cheeks, and a figure which already gave
promise of considerable muscular powers. Alesbury was wont to remark
that it was quite a pity Master Digby had not been born a younger
instead of an elder son, he seemed so well able to fight his way in the
world. He had a fair complexion--already a little tanned, by the by--
light brown curling hair with a tinge of gold in it, he had good-sized
honest eyes, and looked as he was--from head to foot a thorough English
boy. He had been spoilt hitherto, certainly, but not altogether so. He
had been taught by both his parents to worship and fear God, and to hate
and abhor a lie. He had only once been known to tell an untruth, and
then Mr Heathcote did what very nearly broke his heart to do; he
flogged him severely, and shut him up, and would not speak to him for
the remainder of the day. Digby did not care much about the pain of the
flogging, but he felt the disgrace keenly, and it impressed on his mind
the enormity of the crime of which he had been guilty. I believe that
he never after that event uttered a falsehood. His very varied tricks
and numerous eccentric pranks were therefore constantly being brought to
light, when less honest boys might have managed to escape detection for
those they had committed; but few could find it in their hearts to
punish the young heir of Bloxholme when he ingenuously confessed his
fault, and expressed himself, as he really felt at the time, sorry for
what he had done.
"Oh, Master Digby! Master Digby! what would your mamma say if she saw
you now?" continued Mrs Carter.
"I like jam," repeated Master Digby; an assertion of the truth of which
he had given strong evidence.
"Are you not ashamed of yourself?" added Mrs Carter, not taking notice
of his reply.
"The jam isn't yours, Mrs Carter," exclaimed Digby, as if a bright idea
had struck him.
"It is given into my charge by my mistress, Master Digby, and I am
answerable for every pot of it," answered the housekeeper, in a serious
tone, in which sorrow and rebuke were blended.
Digby was silent for a moment, and then seemed to see the matter in a
new light.
"I'm sorry for taking the jam, Mrs Carter; I'll tell mamma what I've
done, and then she won't be angry with you, I know," he replied, looking
very penitent.
"There's a darling, now," exclaimed Mrs Carter, catching him up in her
arms, and giving him a kiss; whereby, in consequence of his struggles to
get free, for he had a great dislike to such marks of affection, her
black silk dress was very considerably daubed with the jam yet adhering
to the young gentleman's fingers. "Oh, Master Digby, Master Digby, what
have you done!" cried the old lady, when she discovered the injury which
her demonstration of affection had brought upon her dress. "Oh, it
never will look nice again."
"I am so sorry, Mrs Carter, indeed I am," said the boy, eyeing the dark
marks his fingers had left. "The first money I get I will buy you a new
gown, that I will; I won't take your jam any more, that I won't."
After this promise, Mrs Carter knew that her jam was safe, and she
willingly bore the injury done her dress for such a result. She would
have given Digby another hug, but she took the precaution of washing his
hands before attempting such a proceeding.
"There now, Master Digby, I dare say the dress won't be much the worse,
after all," she remarked, as soon as she had dried his hands. "You're a
dear, good child, that you are."
Digby knew what was coming, and watching his opportunity, he bolted out
of the room. Snatching up his cap, away he ran, shouting, through the
gardens and woods which surrounded the old hall, in very exuberance of
spirits, without any definite idea as to where he was going or what he
should do with himself. Similar to this had hitherto been most of
Digby's misdemeanours and scrapes, and thus, as he had not learned to
estimate the evil consequences of his naughtinesses, he was not
deterred, when the temptation came in his way, of committing fresh ones.
One of Digby's sisters was but a year older than himself, and very
naturally was his constant companion. Kate, that was her name, was a
very quick, intelligent girl, the cleverest of the family, but her
talents were like wild plants, which bear flowers very beautiful to look
at, but if allowed to grow without training, apt, from their very
exuberance, to do mischief. Kate could write poetry, and very funny
poetry it was too. Digby admired it amazingly. At all events it was
rhyme, and the lines were of the same length and not inharmonious.
Nobody could read it without laughing at the quaint ideas and, curious
expressions. The handwriting was curious--I wish that I could give an
idea of it. The letters were very round and irregular, capitals and
small letters were oddly mingled, and the lines wandered up and down the
pages. The orthography, too, was not of the most orthodox description.
Her little inaccuracies in that respect, however, Digby himself was not
likely to discover. Kate could draw, too, and indulged largely in
caricaturing the eccentricities of any of her friends and acquaintance.
If her poetry was funny, the designs she produced with her pencil were
still more so. They never failed to produce roars of laughter from
Digby, who, if not witty or talented himself, was fully able to
appreciate her wit and talent.
Both her poetical effusions and her caricatures had hitherto been
devoted exclusively to Digby's amusement, and no other member of their
family was aware of her powers in that direction. This arose from the
little maiden's modesty and timidity. She knew that Digby would
certainly appreciate to the full her productions; but she doubted too
much whether others would do so to allow her to show them. Besides, the
exquisite delight which the two enjoyed in looking over together, in
secret, her drawings and verses would have been much decreased had other
eyes been allowed to see them, and to discover faults perhaps to which
they themselves were willingly blind. Not only could Kate write poetry
and draw, but she could sing too; and that everybody knew, and
wonderfully wild and warbling were her notes, when she did not fancy
that any one was listening to her, as she ran bounding along the green
lawn, like a young fawn, or made her way among the shrubberies to any of
her favourite haunts. Kate was not pretty; her figure was small and
thin, and her features were rather sharp, but her eyes were bright, and
full of intelligence, and she had a sweet smile, which lightened up her
countenance when anything pleased her, which was very frequently.
Digby, however, would have been very much surprised had any one
pronounced her to be any otherwise than very pretty. His usual
description of her was, "Oh, she is jolly, that sister of mine--Kate!
I'll bet there isn't another girl like her in the world! Up to
anything--bird's-nesting, cricketing, or fishing. Why, she can saddle
her own pony, and doesn't mind where she goes when I am with her. She's
as plucky as any fellow, and I hope to see her leap a five-barred gate
some day--that I do."
Kate admired Digby in return, though not perhaps in the same degree, but
she was quite as fond of him as he was of her, probably even fonder. I
think sisters generally love their brothers more than they get loved in
return, and most decidedly are ready to make more sacrifices for them,
to give up more to them, to endure more from them, more shame to the
boys. Yes, unselfish indeed is a good sister's love, a thing to be
cherished, a thing to be grateful for.
I said Kate was not pretty. As she ran along with her garden bonnet
thrown back, hanging by the string to her neck, and her frock not in the
most tidy condition, she might have been mistaken for one of the little
gipsies from the encampment which was frequently made on the
neighbouring common. When, however, Kate spoke, a person of discernment
who might have mistaken her for a gipsy would at once have been
undeceived. Her accent and manners were particularly ladylike; and if
she met a stranger, she sobered in a moment, and became perfectly quiet
and sedate. A blush would suffuse her cheeks, and her mouth would
pucker up in a curious way as she attempted to check the laughter which
was springing to her lips. After the stranger had disappeared, she
would walk on a few paces seemingly in a meditative mood, or still under
the influence of the unwonted restraint she had put on herself, but
either a squirrel would cross her path and mount a neighbouring tree, a
blackbird would fly chattering through the bushes, or a butterfly would
go fluttering before her, and off she would go in chase, and was soon
again the buoyant-spirited hoydenish little creature she generally
appeared. Kate Heathcote was certainly not a model girl, nor was Digby
a model boy. Both had very considerable faults. There was good stuff
in them, but it required more cultivation than it was then receiving to
bring forth good fruit. There was also bad in them, as there is in
everybody, which will inevitably bring forth bad fruit unless it is
counteracted. In their case it produced no little amount of highly
indecorous conduct--so that although people who knew them could not help
liking them, their example is in no way to be imitated.
Digby and Kate were very fond of Bloxholme. They thought no other place
they had ever heard of in the world to be compared to it. Indeed, it
was a very attractive spot. The Hall was a fine old red-brick edifice,
built in the time of Queen Elizabeth, with richly ornamented windows,
and fine gables, and curious ins and outs of all sorts; and there were
wide-extending wings of a later date, with the dining-room and a
conservatory on one side, and bachelors' bedrooms and domestic offices
on the other. The garden, filled in the summer with a profusion of
flowers, came right up to the drawing-room windows on one side, and a
broad gravelly drive swept round in front of the house with an avenue of
tall elms, in which generation after generation of rooks had built their
nests, reared their young, and returned, cawing in concert, evening
after evening, for centuries past. The park stretched away for a
quarter of a mile in front of the house. It was a fine meadow, mottled
in early spring with yellow cowslips and other flowers which betokened a
rich land. Fine clumps of trees were scattered over it, arranged to
give a picturesque effect to the scene. Beyond them were seen the
silvery line of a rapid clear stream, and a range of blue hills in the
far distance. The view from the garden side of the Hall was still more
attractive. Both to the right and left were thick banks of tall trees,
some advancing, others receding, so as to prevent a too great uniformity
of appearance. Between them, and sloping away till lost in the meadows
beyond, was a wide expanse of soft velvety lawn. Pleasant was the sound
in the early summer mornings, when the dew was on the grass, of the
gardeners sharpening their scythes to keep it smooth and shorn. Here
and there scattered over it were clumps of rhododendrons and other large
flowering shrubs, and nearer the house were beds full of gay-coloured
and sweet-scented flowers. There were also some clumps of elegant
evergreens, and a few vases of marble or Maltese stone, beautifully
carved, which looked well either in summer or winter. Digby thought no
lawns were so green, no gravel walks so yellow as those of Bloxholme.
The view, too, from the lower windows, as from the lawn itself, was very
beautiful, and perfectly English. There were green slopes and
corn-fields, and hazel and beech woods, and rows of tall elms, and
clumps of fir-trees, and patches of wild land gleaming with the bloom of
the golden-coloured gorse; and then beyond all was to be seen, dancing
in the sunbeams, the wide expanse of the blue ocean, with a silvery
river finding its way down on the right to the little town of Osberton,
which stood on its shores. Numberless are the scenes of similar beauty
which are to be found throughout England. To the left of the lawn,
well-kept gravel walks twisted and twined away through shrubberies of
evergreens, passing several open spaces filled with flower beds and
trellised arbours, and rock-work and grottoes, and other similar
conceits, made with very good taste though, till they reached two wide
sheets of water, which might well be called lakes, connected by a
serpentine channel crossed at each end by a rustic bridge. The ponds
were surrounded by trees, the shadows of which were seen reflected in
the clear waters. There were picturesque little islands dotted about
here and there, not far from the shore, to which one of the largest was
joined by a bridge. It had a summer-house on it, a very favourite
resort of Digby and Kate. Perhaps they prized the ponds for being well
stocked with fish which consented now and then to be caught, even more
than for their beauty. The upper and largest pond was full of pike, and
perch, and eels. In the others were carp, and roach, and dace, and the
finest and fattest tench to be found in the county. There were several
smaller ponds full of water lilies and other aquatic plants, which, when
in bloom, as they floated borne up by their broad leaves on the calm
water, looked very beautiful. These ponds had been carefully stocked
with nearly all the species of fish to be found in English waters; and
in the rapid stream which ran out of the lowest pond and found its way
to the sea, a good basket full of mottled trout was to be caught by the
expert angler. In most places it was so thickly shaded by hazel and
alder, and other bushes which love moisture, that the bungler was very
certain to lose his hook and line, and to catch no fish.
There was another spot, a still more favourite resort of Kate's and
Digby's. It was a high mound--partly natural and partly artificial--
near the upper lake. The base of the mound on one side was washed by a
stream and tributary of the lake, and on the other was a grassy meadow.
The mound itself was thickly covered with trees to the very top, where a
summer-house, or sort of temple, was placed. From the windows a
beautiful view was obtained over the lakes and woods, and gardens and
fields of Bloxholme; and on one side of the village of Otterspoole and
its church-spire, and trout-stream and hanging woods, and on the other
of the valleys and hills and downs which intervened between the grounds
and the sea. Glimpses of the blue ocean were obtained from every
height, and much did it enhance the beauty of the scenery. The path
which led to the top of the mound was very intricate and steep--indeed
it formed a complete labyrinth, which, though it made it far more
attractive to Kate and her brother, prevented it from being so much the
resort of the elders of the family.
I have described these spots as Digby's favourite resorts. I suspect,
however, that had it not been for Kate, he would not have often found
his way there. He liked them because she did, and he went there for the
sake of her society. Hearty were the laughs the two enjoyed there.
There she read to him her poetical effusions--there she showed him her
drawings, and there they concocted, I am sorry to say, many a scheme of
mischief.
The Hall itself was a thoroughly comfortable, warm, well-furnished
mansion, with handsome drawing-rooms, and dining-room and library; and
bedrooms which could accommodate Mr Heathcote's largish family, and a
good many guests besides. He himself seemed fit in every respect to be
the owner of such a place. He was a fine looking person--a thorough
English country gentleman. He did not appear talented, and he was not;
but he had the character of being a thoroughly upright, honest man,
anxious to do his duty in that state of life to which God had called
him. He was a good landlord, and watched over all the poor around,
whether or not living on his estate. He was a county magistrate, and
was never missed in his place on the bench when the Court sat. He was
strict, especially with poachers and smugglers. There was very little
maudlin sentiment in his composition. If a person did wrong he
considered that he ought to be punished, not only to teach him not to
act in the same way again, but to teach others also. Still, no kinder
or more indulgent master, to all employed in his service, was to be
found in the county. "If we do not inflict the legal punishment on the
man, how is he, or how are others, to know what is right or what is
wrong," he used to remark to his brother magistrates. From his
invariable strictness he was looked upon as a severe magistrate, and
many a poacher had to rue the night in which he was caught trespassing
on the preserves of any of the neighbouring estates, till it was found
to be a very unpaying amusement, and poaching was almost put down.
Smugglers, also, either landsmen or seamen, who were captured breaking
the revenue laws, were treated in the same manner. Every man in the
district knew, that if caught aiding in running an illicit cargo of
goods, the county gaol would be his abode for some months afterwards.
So the smugglers found it very difficult to procure men to help them
land their tubs of spirits or bales of silks. Smuggling was not
entirely put down, but it received a severe check from Mr Heathcote's
system of proceeding. The gipsies, and indeed all ill-doers, held him
in great awe. At the same time he might have been seen visiting the
cottages of the men who had been sent to prison, ascertaining the real
wants of their families, and supplying them liberally. It was not in
his way to talk much to them or to give them good advice. He would
remark, perhaps, "Well, when your Bill comes out, tell him that if he
does it again, he'll have to go in again. Remember that." As the
county gaol was far from a pleasant abode, the warning had generally the
effect intended. Mr Heathcote was a Tory, somewhat of the old school,
and an unwavering supporter of the Church of England. Indeed, he was
very unwavering in all his ways of proceeding. He regularly attended
all poor-law boards and road-trust meetings; indeed, a large portion of
his time was occupied in public matters. He was also an enthusiastic
sportsman. The first of September found him, gun in hand, intent on the
destruction of partridges. At every meet of the hounds in the
neighbourhood he might be seen in red coat and top-boots, few in the
field better mounted, while he rode about with cheery voice greeting his
numerous acquaintance. He no longer attended races, however. When at
college he had done so, very much to his own let and hindrance. He had
betted, lost money, and incurred debts which hung over him like an
incubus for years afterwards. He had barely managed to take his degree,
even at a college where no great amount of knowledge was demanded for
obtaining that honour. When he came into his estate he was unable to
take that place in the county which his ancestors had so long held. If
he had had an extravagant wife he would never have obtained it, but
happily for him Mrs Heathcote was a sensible, light-minded,
straightforward person. She saw what was wanted. Retrenchment was
wanted, or rather, a refraining from expenditure. A plan was laid down
and persevered in, and in a few years Mr Heathcote found his estate
unencumbered. He was not, however, a rich man; his house was rather
large for his property, and as people judge rather by the size of the
mansion than by the number or quality of the acres which surround it, he
was supposed to be more wealthy than he really was, and was consequently
expected to live in a more expensive way than he found to be wise. His
first children having been daughters, fancying that he had nothing to do
with their education, he not being a reading man, he was much oftener to
be found out of the house than in it. He had learned, therefore, to
consider that his public duties had the greatest call on his time and
attention. When Digby was born, he at first looked upon him as a baby,
and he had got so into the habit of regarding him in that light, that it
did not occur to him afterwards that his boy's mind, as well as his
stature, was enlarging, and that even greater care was required to
strengthen and cultivate the former than the latter. Happily, Mrs
Heathcote did not altogether overlook this, and she did her best to
instruct him and to teach him what was right. In this she did not
altogether fail. But she had the education of her daughters to attend
to, and Digby was left more to his own devices than was altogether good
for him. She might, of course, have had a governess, but she felt
herself well able to instruct her daughters, and had an idea that no
person could do so better than their mother. Motives of economy had in
the first place induced her to make the attempt, which she afterwards
persevered in from the pleasure it afforded her. She was a thoroughly
English, ladylike person, with no littleness about her. Tittle-tattle,
scandal, or indeed talking of people except to praise them, she
thoroughly detested. Her two eldest daughters did justice to her
instructions.
Eleanor and Mary Heathcote were good-feeling, right-minded, ladylike
girls. I shall not have much to say about them, except in connexion
with Digby. One was seventeen, the other fifteen. They made attempts
to assist in his education, but they found him very unmanageable. There
was a large town some miles off, from which masters came, and Mrs
Heathcote had begun to talk of obtaining a governess to attend to Kate
and Digby, and the younger children as they grew older. A very superior
person had all along superintended the nursery, but Digby had already
broken through all the restraints she could put upon him, except when in
her immediate presence, and then he was obedient enough, both from habit
and affection.
Digby's next brother was Augustus--Gusty he was generally called; he was
three years younger--a fat chubby little fellow. Digby was very fond of
him, and did his best to spoil him as much as he himself was spoiled.
He generally would do anything for him, or bear anything from him, but
sometimes Digby lost his temper, and he would then turn round and give
him a cuff, or carry off some of his property; but he was always sorry
before long for having hurt the child, and would restore what he had
deprived him of, with interest.
Mrs Heathcote's health had always been delicate, and latterly it had
been more so than usual, and in consequence, Kate had been left to do
very much what she liked, except when she and Digby were called in by
Eleanor to do their lessons. She got over hers very quickly, and helped
Digby to do his, so that he also had an abundance of time to follow his
own fancies and devices. Three or four days in the week a master came
over to initiate him in the mysteries of the Latin accidence, as well as
writing and arithmetic--sciences which Mr Heathcote supposed the lady
members of his family were less able to impart than could one of the
sterner sex. Digby, it must be owned, did not take kindly to any of
them, and showed but little respect or affection for his instructor.
When Mr Heathcote made inquiries as to his son's progress, Mr Crammer
invariably replied that Mr Digby was getting on nicely, and he was
content, and did not think it necessary to trouble his head further on
the matter.
I said a river was to be seen from Bloxholme. It flowed away for a
distance of six or seven miles, till it reached the sea, on the shores
of which, at its mouth, a little old sea-port town was situated, called
Osberton. The Rector, Mr Nugent, was brother to Mrs Heathcote. He
had a small income and a large family, and so he took pupils. He was a
refined, pleasing-mannered man, very earnest and zealous, but rather
strict and precise (not about religion, for in that no man can be too
strict), but with regard to the behaviour of his pupils, in small as
well as in important matters. As, however, he entered into their
sports, and showed a deep interest in their welfare, he perfectly won
their love and affection. Osberton was an old place altogether. An old
castle, with a few old guns which had not gone off for ages, guarded, or
rather pretended to guard, the entrance to the river. In reality, it
was no greater defence to the river than would be a stuffed dog in a
court-yard. The little boat harbour and the quays were old, and the
inhabitants were old-fashioned into the bargain. Now and then Digby had
been sent to stay with his uncle, but the atmosphere of the place did
not at that time suit his notions, and he always did his best to get
home again.
In the neighbourhood of Bloxholme was Melford Priory, the residence of
the Honourable Stephen Langley. It had been granted to Mr Langley's
ancestors by Henry the Eighth, on the abolition of the monasteries in
England. His family had, however, resided in the neighbourhood for
centuries before that time. The estate belonged to Lord Calderton, his
elder brother, who was a diplomatist, and consequently seldom came to
the place. He allowed Mr Langley to live at Melford on the supposition
that he devoted himself to looking after the property. Mr Langley had
several children--the youngest, Julian, was about a year older than
Digby. They had occasionally met--Digby thought him a very fast fellow,
and admired him exceedingly. He described to Kate how he could ride the
biggest horse in the stable, and break in the most intractable dog, and
bring down a bird flying at a vast distance, and thrash any bumpkin
twice his size. Mr Heathcote had a very great--an almost hereditary--
respect for Lord Calderton's family. Many of them had been very
excellent people, and the present lord bore a high character. It did
not, therefore, occur to him that any of them could be otherwise than
good. Perhaps had he made inquiries, and ascertained how Julian was
being brought up, he would not have wished his son to become his
associate. The truth is, that Mr Langley was not a good man, and poor
Julian was left to grooms and other servants, who did their best to ruin
him, physically and morally. He listened eagerly to their conversation,
imbibed their notions, and gained a taste for beer and spirits, with
which they, in their ignorance of the injury they were inflicting,
supplied him.
I think that we have now got a very good idea of Bloxholme, its
inhabitants, and its neighbourhood. I must again warn my readers that
none of the characters I have described were model people. Mr
Heathcote himself certainly was not, nor was altogether Mrs Heathcote,
nor was her brother, Mr Nugent; and the troubles and difficulties Digby
brought upon himself, and the pain and suffering he endured, will show
that he is intended for a warning rather than an example.
I must not, however, forget my old friend John Pratt--a very worthy,
honest fellow. He was a sort of under steward on the property. He
looked after the cows, and pigs, and poultry, and sheep, and young
colts. He assisted in the kitchen garden, but did not profess to know
much about flowers. He acted also as a gamekeeper, but he was
especially great in fishing matters, and everything connected with the
ponds and the rookery. He always decided when the young rooks were to
be shot, and when the ponds were to drained or drawn. He superintended
the taking of all wasp's nests. He had charge of the ferrets, the
hawks, and dogs; and as to vermin, the stoats, and the weasels, and
polecats, and even the rats, it was supposed had positively an
instinctive dread of him. He was a tall, thin, wiry man, with a bald
forehead, and grey hair, and a keen intelligent countenance. Digby was
very fond of him, and he in return doted on the young master, and would
have gone through fire and water to serve him. He had already contrived
to instruct Digby in many of the secrets of his science, and as he used
to say, "It was a pleasure to teach Master Digby, he took to it so
kindly, and was afraid of nothing. He'd grapple with a weasel, or a
snake, or a pike, and not cry out for help, when most other young 'uns
would a been running screaming away from them. To see him once
tackle-to with one of the big swans, and only a little stick in his
hand, it was for all the world like St. George a-fighting the dragon,
just as you see on a gold sovereign."
Digby, however, had, in the encounter mentioned, very nearly got his arm
broken, and would in other ways have suffered probably severely had not
John come to the rescue. It proved, however, the fearlessness of his
disposition, which had so won John Pratt's admiration. John Pratt
himself feared no mortal foes; but the poorer classes in that part of
the country were excessively superstitious, and he partook to the full
of the general feeling.
Whereas, happily, throughout England generally, the grosser styles of
superstition have been in a great degree eradicated by the exertions of
the ministers of the Gospel and by the spread of education, in some
parts, and this was one of them, all the absurd notions in which our
ancestors indulged in the dark ages have been handed down to the present
generation. Ghosts, hobgoblins, witches and their secret powers,
charms, amulets, spirits of every sort, were believed in with undoubting
faith. Education had not spread into the district, and, unfortunately,
the clergymen who had successively ministered in that and the
neighbouring parishes had done little or nothing to eradicate the
pernicious and anti-Christian notions which were prevalent among the
people. They had been what were called very good sort of men. They had
preached very fair average sermons on a Sunday, and if people chose to
come to church to hear them they were welcome to do so. If any of their
parishioners were sick and sent for them, they went to them, with their
Bibles in their pockets, from which, perhaps, they read a chapter or
two, and, with a few ordinary words of consolation or advice, they
hurried away as fast as they could. They hunted, and shot, and dined
with Mr Langley and Mr Heathcote, and all the gentlemen round; and
drank their wine, and told good stories, and amused themselves and those
with whom they associated to the utmost of their power. They passed for
worthy jolly good fellows, and no more was demanded of them. It never
seemed to occur to them that they would have to answer some day or other
respecting the souls of their fellow-creatures committed to their
pastoral care. They wondered why there was so much ignorance and
superstition in their parishes; why people did not come to church; why
dissent was rife; why dissenting chapels were built; why the country
people were so immoral; why there was so much drunkenness, folly, and
wickedness.
John Pratt, as I was saying, notwithstanding all his good qualities, was
a firm believer in witches, ghosts, and hobgoblins, and an arrant coward
with regard to the spiritual world.
As Digby ran through the grounds he found him by the side of the lake,
repairing one of the fishing punts. As he sat with mallet and blunt
chisel in hand, driving the oakum into her seams, he was neither
whistling nor smiling, as was his wont. So absorbed was he, indeed, in
his own thoughts, that he did not observe the young master's approach.
"What's the matter, John?" said Digby; "you don't seem happy to-day."
John started, and looked up, "Oh, Master Digby, is that you? I didn't
see you, that I didn't," he exclaimed. "Happy, did you say, Master
Digby? No, I ain't happy by no means. I'm going to be bewitched; and
that's enough to make a man anything but happy, I'm thinking."
"What does that mean, John?" asked Digby; "I don't understand."
"Why, Master Digby, you knows Dame Marlow--she as lives with her old man
down in the gravel-pits at Mile-End--she's a witch, and a wicked old
body, if ever there was one in this world. Well, t'other day, as I was
sauntering like down the green lane, who should I see breaking through
the fence at the corner of the copse but the old Dame herself. She'd a
bird in her hand, and as I ran up to her I found 'twas a hen pheasant.
When she seed me she tried to hide it away under her red cloak, and, in
her hurry, very nearly toppled down the bank on her nose, into the road.
`Oh, Dame Marlow, Dame Marlow, what have you been about?' I cried out.
`You've been a-stealing master's pheasants, that you have; you wicked
old woman, that you are.' Still I didn't like to lay hands on her, do
you see, for I know'd well what she was, and what she can do. On she
went, hobbling away with her crutch as fast as I could walk, almost. At
last she stopped, and turning round her face--oh how wicked and vengeful
it looked, how her red ferret eyes glared at me--says she to me, `Who
calls? Ay, is that you, John Pratt? Ay; and you're seeking your own
harm. You want to bring down a curse on your own head; you want to
malign and injure a poor old body with a decrepit husband, who can't
help himself, do you? Speak, man--what is it you want?' `I want
master's pheasant which you've been trapping, dame,' says I; `and I must
have it, too,' says I, growing bold. `Ay, I see you want to be cursed,'
says she; `you want to have the marrow dry up in your bones, and the
skin wither up on your flesh, and the hair fall off your head, and your
eyes grow dim, and your teeth drop out, and your legs not to bear your
body, and your hands to tremble,'--`Stop, stop, dame,' says I, `don't
curse me now; I'm only doing my duty. I want the pheasant back; I'd
sooner give you its value than quarrel with you.' `It's too late,' says
she, looking more wicked than ever, and not trusting me, I suppose;
`you're bewitched already, and you'll find it out before long, that you
will, let me tell you.' Saying this, on she hobbled, as before. I
followed, thinking that I ought and must have the pheasant; but she
turned upon me such a wicked look, and again hissed out, `You're
bewitched, John Pratt; you're bewitched, man,' that I couldn't stand it,
and had to run away as fast as my legs could carry me, while she set up
a shout of laughter which is even now ringing in my ears."
"Very horrid, indeed, John," said Digby, who did not exactly know
whether or not to believe in Dame Marlow's powers. "But do you really
think she can do what she says?"
"No doubt about it, Master Digby," answered the old man, with grave
earnestness; "you should just hear what all the folks in the country
round do say of her. There's no end of the cows, and sheep, and pigs,
she's bewitched in her time. Many's the one she's sent to their graves
before their glass was run out, just because they'd offended her. Oh,
she's a terrible woman, depend on that, Master Digby."
Much more nonsense of a similar character did poor John talk. I need
not repeat it. Digby was almost persuaded to believe all that the old
man told him.
This conversation was interrupted by a light, hearty fit of laughter.
So eager had they become that they had not perceived that Kate had
approached them, and had been an attentive and amused listener to much
that had been said on the subject.
"All that you have been saying is arrant nonsense, John," she exclaimed,
unable longer to restrain herself; "and you, Digby, are a little goose
to believe him. Why, Dame Marlow has no more real power over the
elements or over her fellow-creatures than you or I, or her own black
cat has. We'll soon concoct a plan to make her undo her own curse, and
to punish her, at all events. An idea just now came into my head when I
heard you two wise people talking. Come along, Digby, to our island,
and we'll work it out. If it comes to anything, as I think it will,
we'll get John to help us; and we'll make Dame Marlow repent that she
ever pretended to be a witch, or threatened to injure any of the poor
people who are silly enough to believe in her."
From the hearty shouts of laughter which John soon heard coming across
the water from the island, there could be little doubt that Kate's idea
was considered by her and Digby as a very bright one, and that, under
the influence of their united wits, it was undergoing a rapid
development.
John Pratt was amazed. He had great admiration of Master Digby's
physical courage. He felt a sensation approaching to awe as he
contemplated the fearlessness with which Miss Kate proposed to encounter
one who possessed such unlimited powers over even the spirits of
darkness. "There's the true old blood in their veins, that there is,"
remarked John to himself, as he went on caulking the punt.