One-more-poor-man-un-done
One-more-poor-man-un-done
The belfry tower rocked and reeled, as that peal rang out, now
merry, now scornful, now plaintive, from whose narrow belfry
windows, into the bosom of the soft south-west wind, which was
playing round the old grey tower of Englebourn church. And the
wind caught the peal and played with it, and bore it away over
Rectory and village street, and many a homestead, and gently
waving field of ripening corn, and rich pasture and water-meadow,
and tall whispering woods of the Grange, and rolled it against
the hill-side, and up the slope past the clump of firs on the
Hawk's Lynch, till it died away on the wild stretches of common
beyond.
The ringers bent lustily to their work. There had been no such
ringing in Englebourn since the end of the great war. Not content
with the usual peal out of church, they came back again and again
in the afternoon, full of the good cheer which had been provided
for them; and again and again the wedding peal rang out from the
belfry in honour of their old comrade--
One-more-poor-man-un-done
One-more-poor-man-un-done
Such was the ungallant speech which for many generations had been
attributed to the Englebourn wedding-bells; when you had once
caught the words--as you would be sure to do from some
wide-mouthed grinning boy, lounging over the churchyard rails to
see the wedding pass--it would be impossible to persuade yourself
that they did, in fact, say anything else. Somehow, Harry Winburn
bore his undoing in the most heroic manner, and did his duty
throughout the trying day as a non-commissioned groom should. The
only part of the performance arranged by his captain which he
fairly resisted, was the proposed departure of himself and Patty
to the solitary post-chaise of Englebourn--a real old
yellow--with a pair of horses. East, after hearing the sergeant's
pleading on the subject of vehicles, at last allowed them to
drive off in a tax-cart, taking a small boy with them behind, to
bring it back.
As for the festivities, they went off without hitch, as such
affairs will, where the leaders of the revels have their hearts
in them. The children had all played, and romped, and eaten and
drunk themselves into a state of torpor by an early hour of the
evening. The farmers' dinner was a decided success. East proposed
the health of the bride and bridegroom, and was followed by
Farmer Grove and the constable. David turned out in a new blue
swallow-tailed coat, with metal buttons, of his own fabulous cut,
in honor of the occasion. He and the farmer spoke like the leader
of the Government and the Opposition in the House of Commons on
an address to the Crown. There was not a pin to choose between
their speeches, and a stranger hearing them would naturally have
concluded that Harry had never been anything but the model boy
and young man of the parish. Fortunately, the oratorical powers
of Englebourn ended here; and East, and the majority of his
guests, adjourned to the green, where the cricket was in
progress. Each game lasted a very short time only, as the youth
of Englebourn were not experts in the noble science, and lost
their wickets one after another so fast, that Tom and Hardy had
time to play out two matches with them, and then to retire on
their laurels, while the afternoon was yet young.
The old folks in the village school-room enjoyed their beef and
pudding, under the special superintendence of Miss Winter, and
then toddled to their homes, and sat about in the warmest nooks
they could find, mumbling of old times, and the doings at Dr.
Winter's wedding.
David devoted himself to superintending the issue of beer,
swelling with importance, but so full of the milk of human
kindness from the great event of the day, that nobody minded his
little airs. He did his duty so satisfactorily that, with the
exception of one or two regular confirmed soakers, who stuck
steadily to the tap of the Red Lion, and there managed
successfully to fuddle themselves, there was nothing like
drunkenness. In short, it was one of those rare days when
everything goes right, and everybody seems to be inclined to give
and take, and to make allowances for their neighbours. By degrees
the cricket flagged, and most of the men went off to sit over
their pipes, and finish the evening in their own way. The boys
and girls took to playing at "kissing in the ring;" and the
children who had not already gone home sat in groups watching
them.
Miss Winter had already disappeared, and Tom, Hardy and the
Captain began to feel that they might consider their part
finished. They strolled together off the green towards Hardy's
lodgings, the "Red Lion" being still in possession of East's
guests.
"Well, how do you think it all went off?" asked he. "Nothing
could have been better," said Hardy; "and they all seem so
inclined to be reasonable that I don't think we shall even have a
roaring song along the street to-night when the "Red Lion" shuts
up."
"And you are satisfied, Tom?"
"I should think so. I have been hoping for this day any time this
four years, and now it has come, and gone off well, too, thanks
to you, Harry."
"Thanks to me? Very good; I am open to any amount of gratitude."
"I think you have every reason to be satisfied with your second
day's work at Englebourn, at any rate."
"So I am. I only hope it may turn out as well as the first."
"Oh, there's no doubt about that."
"I don't know. I rather believe in the rule of contraries."
"How do you mean?"
"Why, when you inveigled me over from Oxford, and we carried off
the sergeant from the authorities, and defeated the yeomanry in
that tremendous thunder-storm, I thought we were a couple of
idiots, and deserved a week each in the lockup for our pains.
That business turned out well. This time we have started with
flying colours and bells ringing, and so--"
"This business will turn out better. Why not?"
"Then let us manage a third day's work in these parts as soon as
possible. I should like to get to the third degree of comparison,
and perhaps the superlative will turn up trumps for me somehow.
Are there many more young women in the place as pretty as Mrs.
Winburn? This marrying complaint is very catching, I find."
"There's my cousin Katie," said Tom, looking stealthily at Hardy;
"I won't allow that there's any face in the country-side to match
hers. What do you say, Jack?"
Hardy was confused by this sudden appeal.
"I haven't been long enough here to judge," he said. "I have
always considered Miss Winter very beautiful. I see it is nearly
seven o'clock, and I have a call or two to make in the village. I
should think you ought to get some rest after this tiring day,
Captain East?"
"What are you going to do, Tom?"
"Well, I was thinking of just throwing a fly over the mill tail.
There's such a fine head of water on."
"Isn't it too bright?"
"Well, perhaps it is a little; marrying weather and fishing
weather don't agree. Only what else is there to do? But if you
are tired," he added, looking at East, "I don't care a straw
about it. I shall stay with you."
"Not a bit of it. I shall hobble down with you, and lie on the
bank and smoke a cheroot."
"No, you shan't walk, at any rate. I can borrow the constable's
pony, old Nibble, the quietest beast in the world. He'll stand
for a week if we like, while I fish and you lie and look on. I'll
be off and bring him around in two minutes."
"Then we shall meet for a clumsy tea at nine at my lodgings,"
said Hardy, as he went off to his pastoral duties.
Tom and East, in due time, found themselves by the side of the
stream. There was only a small piece of fishable water in
Englebourn. The fine stream, which, a mile or so below, in the
Grange grounds, might be called a river, came into respectable
existence only about two hundred yards above Englebourn Mill.
Here two little chalk brooks met, and former millers had
judiciously deepened the channel, and dammed the united waters
back so as to get a respectable reservoir. Above the junction the
little weedy, bright, creeping brooks afforded good sport for
small truants groppling about with their hands, or bobbing with
lob worms under the hollow banks, but were not available for the
scientific angler. The parish ended at the fence next below the
mill garden, on the other side of which the land was part of the
Grange estate. So there was just the piece of still water above
the mill, and the one field below it, over which Tom had leave.
On ordinary occasions this would have been enough, with careful
fishing, to last him till dark; but his nerves were probably
somewhat excited by the events of the day, and East sat near and
kept talking; so he got over his water faster than usual. At any
rate, he had arrived for the second time at the envious fence
before the sun was down. The fish were wondrous wary in the
miller's bit of water--as might be expected, for they led a dog
of a life there, between the miller and his men and their nets,
and baits of all kinds always set. So Tom thought himself lucky
to get a couple of decent fish, the only ones that were moving
within his liberty; but he could not help looking with covetous
eyes on the fine stretch of water below, all dimpling with rises.
"Why don't you get over and fish below?" said East, from his seat
on the bank; "don't mind me. I can watch you; besides, lying on
the turf on such an evening is luxury enough by itself."
"I can't go. Both sides below belong to that fellow Wurley."
"The sergeant's amiable landlord and prosecutor?"
"Yes; and the yeoman with whom you exchanged shots on the
common."
"Hang it, Tom, just jump over and catch a brace of his trout.
Look how they are rising."
"No, I don't know. I never was very particular about poaching,
but somehow I shouldn't like to do it on his land. I don't like
him well enough."
"You're right, I believe. But just look there. There's a whopper
rising not more than ten yards below the rail. You might reach
him, I think, without trespassing, from where you stand."
"Shall I have a shy at him?"
"Yes; it can't be poaching if you don't go on his grounds."
Tom could not resist the temptation, and threw over the rails,
which crossed the stream from hedge to hedge to mark the
boundaries of the parish, until he got well over the place where
the fish was rising.
"There, that was at your fly," said East, hobbling up in great
excitement.
"All right, I shall have him directly. There he is. Hullo! Harry,
I say! Splash with your stick. Drive the brute back. Bad luck to
him. Look at that!"
The fish, when hooked, had come straight up stream towards his
captor, and notwithstanding East's attempts to frighten him back,
he rushed in under the before-mentioned walls, which were adorned
with jagged nails, to make crossing on them unpleasant for the
Englebourn boys. Against one of these Tom's line severed, and the
waters closed over two beauteous flies, and some six feet of
lovely taper gut.
East laughed loud and merrily; and Tom, crestfallen as he was,
was delighted to hear the old ring coming back into his friend's
voice.
"Harry, old fellow, you're picking up already in this glorious
air."
"Of course I am. Two or three more weddings and fishings will set
me up altogether. How could you be so green as to throw over
those rails? It's a proper lesson to you, Tom, for poaching."
"Well, that's cool. Didn't I throw down stream to please you?"
"You ought to have resisted temptation. But, I say, what are you
at?"
"Putting on another cast, of course."
"Why, you're not going on to Wurley's land?"
"No; I suppose not. I must try the mill tail again."
"It's no good. You've tried it over twice, and I'm getting
bored."
"Well, what shall we do then?"
"I've a mind to get up to the hill there to see the sun
set--what's its name?--where I waited with the cavalry that
night, you know."
"Oh! the Hawk's Lynch. Come along, then; I'm your man."
So Tom put up his rod, and caught the old pony, and the two
friends were soon on their way towards the common, through lanes
at the back of the village.
The wind had sunk to sleep as the shadows lengthened. There was
no sound abroad except that of Nibble's hoofs on the turf,--not
even the hum of insects; for the few persevering gnats, who were
still dancing about in the slanting glints of sunshine that
struck here and there across the lanes, had left off humming.
Nothing living met them except an occasional stag-beetle,
steering clumsily down the lane, and seeming like a heavy
coaster, to have as much to do as he could fairly manage in
keeping clear of them. They walked on in silence for some time,
which was broken at last by East.
"I haven't had time to tell you about my future prospects."
"How do you mean? Has anything happened?"
"Yes. I got a letter two days ago from New Zealand, where I find
I am a considerable landowner. A cousin of mine has died out
there and has left me his property."
"W ell, you're not going to leave England, surely?"
"Yes, I am. The doctors say the voyage will do me good, and the
climate is just the one to suit me. What's the good of my staying
here? I shan't be fit for service again for years. I shall go on
half-pay, and become an enterprising agriculturist at the
Antipodes. I have spoken to the sergeant, and arranged that he
and his wife shall go with me; so, as soon as I can get his
discharge, and he has done honeymooning, we shall start. I wish
you would come with us."
Tom could scarcely believe his ears; but soon found that East was
in earnest, and had an answer to all his remonstrances. Indeed,
he had very little to say against the plan, for it jumped with
his own humour; and he could not help admitting that, under the
circumstances, it was a wise one, and that, with Harry Winburn
for his head man, East couldn't do better than carry it out.
"I knew you would soon come around to it," said the Captain;
"what could I do dawdling about at home, with just enough money
to keep me and get me into mischief? There I shall have a
position and an object; and one may be of some use, and make
one's mark in a new country. And we'll get a snug berth ready for
you by the time you're starved out of the old country. England
isn't the place for poor men with any go in them."
"I believe you're right, Harry," said Tom, mournfully.
"I know I am. And in a few years, when we've made our fortunes,
we'll come back and have a look at the old country, and perhaps
buy up half Englebourn and lay our bones in the old church yard."
"And if we don't make our fortunes?"
"Then we'll stay out there."
"Well, if I were my own master I think I should make one with
you. But I could never leave my father and mother, or--or--"
"Oh, I understand. Of course, if matters go all right in that
quarter, I have nothing more to say. But, from what you have told
me, I thought you might be glad of a regular break in your life,
a new start in a new world."
"Very likely I may. I should have said so myself this morning.
But somehow I feel to-night more hopeful than I have for years."
"Those wedding chimes are running in your head."
"Yes; and they have lifted a load off my heart too. Four years
ago I was very near doing the greatest wrong a man can do to that
girl who was married to-day, and to that fine fellow her husband,
who was the first friend I ever had. Ever since then I have been
doing my best to set matters straight, and have often made them
crookeder. But to-day they are all straight, thank God, and I
feel as if a chain were broken from off my neck. All has come
right for them, and perhaps my own time will come before long."
"To be sure it will. I must be introduced to a certain young lady
before we start. I shall tell her that I don't mean to give up
hopes of seeing her on the other side of the world."
"Well, here we are on the common. What a glorious sunset! Come,
stir up, Nibble. We shall be on the Lynch just in time to see him
dip if we push on."
Nibble, the ancient pony, finding that there was no help for it,
scrambled up the greater part of the ascent successfully. But his
wheezings and roarings during the operation excited East's pity;
so he dismounted when they came to the foot of the Hawk's Lynch,
and, tying Nibble's bridle to a furze-bush--a most unnecessary
precaution--set to work to scale the last and deepest bit of the
ascent with the help of his stick--and Tom's strong-arm.
They paused every ten paces or so to rest and look at the sunset.
The broad vale below lay in purple shadow; the soft flocks of
little clouds high up over their heads, and stretching away to
the eastern horizon, floated in a sea of rosy light; and the
stems of the Scotch firs stood out like columns of ruddy flame.
"Why, this beats India," said East, putting up his hand to shade
his eyes, which were fairly dazzled by the blaze. "What a
contrast to the last time I was up here! Do you remember that
awful black-blue sky?"
"Don't I? Like a night-mare. Hullo! who's here?"
"Why, if it isn't the parson and Miss Winter," said East,
smiling.
True enough, there they were, standing together on the very verge
of the mound, beyond the firs, some ten yards in front of the
last comers, looking out into the sunset.
"I say, Tom, another good omen," whispered East; "hadn't we
better beat a retreat?"
Before Tom could answer, or make up his mind what to do, Hardy
turned his head and caught sight of them, and then Katie turned
too, blushing like the little clouds overhead. It was an
embarrassing moment. Tom stammered out that they had come up
quite by chance, and then set to work, well seconded by East, to
look desperately unconscious, and to expatiate on the beauties of
the view. The light began to fade, and the little clouds to
change again from soft pink to grey, and the evening star shone
out clear as they turned to descend the hill, when the Englebourn
clock chimed nine.
Katie attached herself to Tom, while Hardy helped the Captain
down the steep pitch, and on to the back of Nibble. They went a
little ahead. Tom was longing to speak to his cousin, but could
not tell how to begin. At last Katie broke the silence;
"I am so vexed that this should have happened!"
"Are you, dear? So am not I," he said, pressing her arm to his
side.
"But I mean, it seems so forward--as if I had met Mr. Hardy here
on purpose. What will your friend think of me?"
"He will think no evil."
"But indeed, Tom, do tell him, pray. It was quite an accident.
You know how I and Mary used to go up the Hawk's Lynch whenever
we could, on fine evenings."
"Yes, dear, I know it well."
"And I thought of you both so much to-day, that I couldn't help
coming up here."
"And you found Hardy? I don't wonder. I should come up to see the
sun set every night, if I lived at Englebourn."
"No. He came up sometime after me. Straight up the hill. I did
not see him till he was quite close. I could not run away then.
Indeed, it was not five minutes before you came."
"Five minutes are as good as a year sometimes."
"And you will tell your friend, Tom, how it happened?"
"Indeed I will, Katie. May I not tell him something more?"
He looked round for an answer, and there was just light enough to
read it in her eye.
"My debt is deepening to the Hawk's Lynch," he said, as they
walked on through the twilight. "Blessed five minutes! Whatever
else they may take with them, they will carry my thanks for ever.
Look how clear and steady the light of that star is, just over
the church tower. I wonder whether Mary is at a great hot dinner.
Shall you write to her soon?"
"Oh, yes. To-night."
"You may tell her that there is no better Englishman walking the
earth than my friend, John Hardy. Here we are at his lodgings.
East and I are going to tea with him. Wish them good night, and I
will see you home."