THE ANTIQUARIAN SOCIETY
'Who comes to the ruin, the ivy-clad ruin,
With old shaking arches, all moss-overgrown?'
May drew to a close with a burst of warm weather, and the Whitsuntide
holidays promised to prove all that the heart of the cheap tripper might
desire, though beyond a chance cyclist or two that article was as
unknown as the dodo in quiet Gorswen, where fortunately the charms of
the scenery had not yet been spoilt by picnic parties leaving greasy
sandwich papers and ginger-beer bottles in the woods, and demanding
noisy entertainment in the village, nor the youth of the neighbourhood
corrupted into hanging round the public-house doors to listen to the
mirth and songs of the excursionists within, or offer faded bunches of
flowers in exchange for halfpence. Gorswen, having taken its annual
holiday at Easter, made no account of Whit-week, and went on with its
work as usual, for the agricultural labourer does not claim so much in
the way of pleasure as his brethren of the loom or the forge, and is
content with an occasional fair or village feast to break the monotony
of his daily life.
Whit Monday was a holiday at school, however, and Peggy and Bobby,
having the day at home, took a sudden fit of industry, and started to
weed the shrubbery with the noble intention of having it raked over and
tidied by teatime, being put somewhat on their mettle by Father's
remarks on the subject of sustained labour, and his laughing incredulity
when they assured him he would find it all neatly finished when he
returned from Warford that evening. It was a warm day, and gardening is
particularly back-breaking work, but they toiled grimly away, neither
liking to be the first to give in, and soon began to make considerable
headway among the weeds.
'Hello!' cried Bobby suddenly, pausing in his task of uprooting a giant
dock. 'Who on earth is all this crew coming up the drive? I say, Peggy,
do come and look!'
Peggy was not sorry to find an excuse to fling down her hoe and basket,
and she came scrambling up the bank just in time to witness the strange
procession that was slowly straggling from the great gate towards the
front-door. There were gentlemen, young, old and middle-aged, some in
tourist tweeds, some in boating flannels, and some in sober black, most
of them with books or road-maps in their hands, while a sprinkling of
ladies, both grave and frivolous, in light summer costumes and with gay
parasols, completed the party. That they were on an errand of pleasure
was evident, for there was a tolerable amount of laughing and talking,
while all appeared to be taking stock of the house and surroundings with
considerable interest.
'Whatever can they want?' said Peggy, who certainly had never seen the
Abbey invaded by such an alarming number of callers before. 'They look
as if they were going to take the place by storm!'
After a short parley at the door, the visitors were conducted by Nancy
to the side-gate, where they all filed into the ruins, from whence a
lively hum of conversation could plainly be heard.
'I vote we go and see what they're after,' said Bobby, his curiosity
getting the better of him; and, abandoning the weeds, the children ran
round by the kitchen garden into the house.
'Did ye ever see the like?' said Nancy, as they catechized that giggling
maiden for information. 'They calls themselves "The Welsh Borders
Society of Antiquaries," so they sez. It's got the name on this little
paper as they've left, and they comes to the door wantin' master's
permission to look at the ruins. I sez he ain't in, but I asks Miss
Lilian, and she tells 'em "Yes," and there they all is, pokin' about
amongst the nettles, and grubbin' up stones, and stickin' bits of mortar
in their pockets, and dodgin' about with yard measures, for all the
world like a set of lunatics. What they can find to look at passes me,
for there's nought there but the walls and stones. And it seems they've
come all the way from Warford in waggonettes. Just think of that, now!
Only to look at a few old ruins, when they might 'a' spent Whit Monday
in the Spa Gardens, with the Grenadier Band, and the variety company
down from Lunnon, too!'
'But the ruins are tremendously interesting, Nancy; I don't wonder
people want to come and look at them. Just think how old they are!'
'Well, the gentry has queer tastes, I will allow. There's you and Master
Bobby, now, always a-collecting of stones and insects and like rubbish
to litter up the Rose Parlour, and I suppose some grown folk is as
foolish as children over such things. However, it's live and let live,
and if they care to take their pleasure that way, let 'em, although it
wouldn't be my taste if I was a lady born.'
'Come along, Bobby,' said Peggy, 'we'll go into the ruins, and see what
these people are doing. Miss Crossland has often talked about the
Antiquarian Society in the history lessons at school, and I always
wanted to see one of the meetings.'
'Ay, do,' said Nancy, 'and if you can make head or tail of their talk,
it's more than I can. One of 'em asked me if there was any sepulchral
slabs, and it turned out she only meant tombstones after all. She could
'a got plenty o' they in Warford Cemetery, without coming this distance,
I reckon.'
Feeling rather shy, and not liking to intrude their presence upon
strangers, the children followed the party into the ruins, and creeping
under the protecting shelter of some bushes, found they could take quite
a good view of the proceeding unobserved. The antiquarians did not seem
to be discussing anything very learned just at present, for they had
drawn out flasks, and packets of sandwiches, and were engaged in
picnicking upon the stones in a truly modern fashion, while occasional
bursts of laughter were wafted along the air.
'It looks jolly fun. I wish they'd ask us to join them!' whispered
Bobby.
'I don't see Miss Crossland there,' returned Peggy. 'But perhaps she's
away for Whitsuntide. They certainly seem to be having a good time.'
To enjoy an _al fresco_ meal, however, was evidently not the main
business of the society, for the members soon disposed of their
refreshments, and began to collect in little groups round a
learned-looking gentleman, who, with a bundle of papers in his hand,
seemed clearing his throat in preparation for giving an address. The
children could hear most of what he said, and a very interesting account
of the Abbey it proved to be, with a description of the size and extent
of the old buildings, and the life led by the ancient monks, which quite
delighted Peggy, who revelled in Scott's novels and historical stories,
and which made the past days rise up so clearly before her that she
could almost fancy the bell ringing for vespers, and hear the rustle of
the gray robes of the friars as they passed silently up the chancel to
their stalls in the choir. The members seemed to take copious notes in
pocket-books, and asked occasional questions, one literary-looking lady,
in spectacles and a large black hat with nodding feathers, being
particularly insistent, and volunteering so much information that she
threatened to usurp the place of the lecturer, and had to be gently
suppressed, while an old gentleman distributed pamphlets broadcast,
declaring he had had them specially printed for the occasion. The
speeches were over at length, and a last farewell round of the ruins
having been made, the society finally took its departure, with the
intention of viewing the church, and an injunction for all the members
to assemble for tea at the Bluebell Arms at half-past four precisely.
As the last pink parasol and straw hat disappeared through the little
gate, Peggy and Bobby emerged from their retirement, somewhat stiff and
cramped, and were just about to give vent to a wild war-whoop as some
slight relief to their pent-up feelings when they noticed that after all
they were not alone. Two antiquarians had remained behind, so evidently
fascinated with their surroundings that they lingered about, measuring
the walls with a yard-tape, and putting down the items in well-worn
pocket-books. One of them was a singular-looking old gentleman, small
and thin, with a clean-shaven face and a scholarly stoop. Seemingly he
thought considerably more of his books than of such details as his
toilet, for there was a very large expanse of gray sock visible above
his dusty shoes, and his limp shirt-front looked guiltless of starch. In
spite of the heat of the day, he wore two overcoats, one above the
other, and the pockets of both were filled to overflowing with pamphlets
and papers. He kept a fragment of pencil continually in the corner of
his mouth, like a cigar, and Peggy noticed that when he accidentally
mislaid his pocket-book he jotted down notes upon his cuffs, as if it
were quite an ordinary occurrence to use them in lieu of paper. The
other old gentleman was stout and jovial-looking, with a full gray beard
and whiskers, and an amazingly juvenile suit of tweeds. It was evident
that his pitch of enthusiasm, or perhaps physical endurance, was not
equal to that of his companion, for he panted with heat as he held the
other end of the yard measure, and gave vent to occasional grunts of
disapprobation as he toiled painfully to the tops of mounds to get
bird's-eye views of the outlined cells, or take snap-shots of the
remains of the windows and columns.
'Interesting, most interesting! Abounding at every yard with testimony
of the past, and in some ways unique, and a valuable contribution to our
list of early English abbeys. With your photographs, Sedgwick, we shall
have ample material for our projected treatise, which I trust should be
ready for the September issue of the _Archaeologian_'--and the little old
gentleman sat down on a broken column, and pulled a sheaf of papers out
of one of his many pockets.
'Warm work, though, Doctor,' replied the other, wiping his steaming
brow. 'I believe I would sell my birthright for a tumbler of water. I
wonder if they would give us some up at the house. There does not seem
to be a spring or anything about here.'
'You will be having tea soon,' said he of the two overcoats
unsympathetically, 'and I am most anxious to compare your notes and
measurements with my own. This is such a favourable opportunity that I
think we had better seize the occasion while we are on the spot to make
fresh observations in case of any discrepancies in our descriptions.'
The stout man seemed to comply unwillingly, and the friends were soon
immersed in calculations, quite unaware of the two pairs of watchful
eyes close by which had taken in the whole situation.
'I'm sorry for that fat man,' whispered Bobby. 'He looks as if he were
ready to melt. The way he pounded up and down those mounds made me hot
to watch him.'
'Poor old fellow! You'd think the other would be hot, too, in two
overcoats! I declare I shall go in and fetch them some milk!' cried
Peggy, starting up impulsively. 'You can stay, if you like, and tell
them I'm bringing it.'
But bashful Bobby distinctly objected to accost strangers, and preferred
to follow her in the direction of the house, offering to act scout while
she did the foraging. Not being quite certain how her efforts at
hospitality might be received at headquarters, Peggy watched Nancy
successfully out of the way, and dashing into the dairy, emerged
presently with a jug of milk and two glasses perilously balanced on a
tray, which she nearly upset in her efforts to elude the returning deity
of the kitchen.
'You can go first, Bobby,' she suggested, as she struggled with her
burden through the side-gate, 'and say "Good-afternoon," and "Would
they like some milk?" and then I can offer them the tray.'
'Well, I like that, when it was your idea altogether! No, thank you, I
don't care to be in it!'--and meanly deserting at the last moment, Bobby
fled into the sanctuary of the garden, leaving Peggy to carry her
refreshments to the ruins alone.
I think if it had not been for the fact that she knew Bobby was peeping
at her from over the wall, Peggy would have turned tail too, but as it
was, she felt bound to carry out her project, and under the fire of his
laughing eyes she walked sturdily towards the strangers. She had thought
of at least three pretty speeches to make for the occasion, but when it
came to the point she could not remember any of them, and could only
hold out the tray, blushing very much, and saying nothing at all. The
old gentlemen looked so surprised at the sudden apparition before them
that the numerous books and papers fell to the ground in wild confusion.
'Hebe, surely!' said the stout gentleman, with a little bow. 'Is this
nectar which you are offering us, fair nymph? Doctor, this is indeed a
godsend! Allow me to pour you out a glass of this beverage. Ah! nectar
indeed!'--as he set down his empty tumbler. 'I feel refreshed and
invigorated. May I ask if it is the sprite of the ruins to whom we are
indebted for this bounty?'
Rather taken aback by his bantering tone, Peggy was at a loss what to
answer, but the other old gentleman, noticing her confusion, came to the
rescue.
'Many thanks, my dear, for your kindness,' he said, with stately,
old-fashioned courtesy. 'We have much enjoyed the examination of your
most interesting ruins, and if your Father had been at home to-day, I
should have given myself the pleasure of thanking him in person. I
shall make a point, however, of sending him a copy of my report in the
_Archaeologian_, where I trust he will find many items of information
respecting the origin and history of the Abbey with which perchance he
may be unacquainted. By-the-by, may I ask if any curiosities have ever
been found while ploughing in these fields?'
'Not when they were ploughing,' said Peggy, finding her voice at last.
'But when we were digging last Easter here in the ruins we found a funny
old box.'
'_What!_' cried the old gentleman, bouncing up in his excitement like an
indiarubber ball. 'You actually found something _here_, in the Abbey,
when digging? Sedgwick, do you hear that?'
The stout man smiled appreciatively.
'Perhaps our fair nymph will kindly describe the nature of the
discovery,' he suggested.
'There was a big old stone box first,' began Peggy.
'A stone coffin!' gasped the old gentleman.
'But there weren't any bones inside,' continued Peggy, rather enjoying
herself now that she had once broken the ice. 'It was something much
queerer than that--a wooden box full of old books, with writing you
can't read, and strange little pictures all round the pages.'
'And what have you done with them? Where are they? Can you show them to
me?' cried the enthusiastic antiquarian, almost dancing with eagerness.
'They're in the loft. I'll take you if you'd like to look at them.'
'Come along, Sedgwick; I believe we may be on the verge of a valuable
discovery!'--and stuffing his papers into his capacious pockets, the old
gentleman started off with impatient strides, bearing his stout friend
in his wake like a little tug towing a steamer.
[Illustration: "SEDGWICK, THIS IS AN EXTRAORDINARY DAY!"]
Peggy often laughed afterwards when she remembered how she escorted the
pair up the rickety steps into the granary, and prevented them from
falling through the trap-door into the stable below, and guided them
between the sacks of grain in the dark loft, where, flinging open the
wooden shutter, she let in a stream of sunlight, and disclosed to view
the ancient chest.
'A curious piece of workmanship, Sedgwick! Saxon undoubtedly, I should
say.'
'I agree with you, Doctor. Shall I lift the lid?'
'By all means. Ah! what have we here?'--and the little man squatted down
on a sack of oats, and lifted out one of the books with the reverent
touch of the true collector.
'Unique! unique!' he cried, rubbing his hands with delight. 'Sedgwick,
this is indeed a find! If I do not mistake, this is a genuine portion of
the Saxon chronicle, and will make a sensation in the antiquarian
world.'
'There is something here which looks like a copy of the Gospels,'
replied the other, who had been turning over the contents of the chest
with much interest. 'And there seem to be some exquisite breviaries and
"Hours of the Virgin." Just see this illuminated border. It reminds me
of the "Book of Kells."'
'The same period, doubtless. Sedgwick, this is an extraordinary day!
Such a discovery only comes once in a lifetime!'
'Some of the bindings are queer, too,' put in Peggy, hunting out one of
her favourites. 'Look at this. It seems as if it were made of lead, with
little pieces of coloured glass stuck in it.'
'Lead! Coloured glass!' chuckled the old gentleman. 'My dear child, let
me tell you this is antique silver, set with jewels. Wait till you see
it cleaned!'
'Jewels in the back of an old book!' gasped Peggy, astonished in her
turn. 'How did they get there? Is it really true?'
'Certainly. Many of the books in old times had covers of enormous value.
The ancient Abbey no doubt was a rich one, and much of their wealth
would be devoted to their library.'
'Then if these are really precious stones,' said Peggy, 'I suppose they
will be worth something. Father said he was afraid the old books were of
no value except to people who were fond of such things. We were waiting
till our Rector came home to look at them.'
'They are of the utmost value, my dear, not only for the jewelled
covers, but for the rare contents and illuminations, which are of a type
most scarce and precious. I have not had time to go through the whole
contents of the chest, but I should say if these books were put up at
Christie's they would realize many thousands of pounds. With your
Father's permission, I should like to send down an expert from the
Bodleian to examine them.'
'There will be keen bidding with the British Museum if they are put up
for sale,' remarked the stout gentleman.
'It would be a most exciting occasion. I should make a point of being
present in person, and use all my influence to secure them for Oxford.
There would probably be representatives bidding from all the principal
libraries and museums in the kingdom, not to mention the United States
and the Continent.'
'But, please, do the books really belong to Father?' asked Peggy, who
did not quite understand this conversation.
'Certainly, if your Father is the legal owner of the property. No one
else can lay the slightest claim to them, and I congratulate him on the
value of his prize.'
'Then--would it be--would it be possible for Father to get the money for
them--soon?' faltered Peggy, blushing scarlet at putting such a
question.
'Without doubt it would. If he should wish to realize them at once, the
sale could be pushed on in a few weeks, only time should be allowed for
the Americans to hear of them, as they always run prices up. If
agreeable to your Father, I will call to-morrow morning and discuss the
subject with him, and in the meantime I can only beg that all possible
care will be taken of these priceless treasures. The chest seems secure
from any ravages of rats or mice. Still, I should advise its being
carried into the house without further delay. You agree with me,
Sedgwick?'
'Certainly; it is wiser to run no risks. By-the-by'--looking at his
watch--'may I remind you, Doctor, that our waggonettes are due to start
at five o'clock, and it is already half-past. I fear the members of our
party will be awaiting us with some impatience at the Bluebell Arms.'
'Dear me,' said the old gentleman, 'I fear I am sadly forgetful! In the
society of such enthralling interests I have no conception of the flight
of time. To-morrow morning, then, my dear, if your Father will be at
liberty, I shall give myself the pleasure of calling upon him;' and
regretfully closing the lid, he tore himself away from the old chest,
like a reluctant lover from his mistress, and took his departure,
leaving Peggy, nearly wild with excitement, to rush tumultuously into
the house with her wonderful piece of news.