COMING OF AGE.
SPITE of what he had previously expressed to the contrary, Mr. Merivale
thought it well to serve a formal notice to quit Holmcastle upon Mr.
Tresham Potts, and he accompanied it with an offer to produce any
evidence which might seem necessary as to the identity of Wilfred as
the son of the late Squire. Potts was far too shrewd a lawyer to think
even of disputing the matter, and prepared accordingly, with the idea
of avoiding further expense, to evacuate the property from which he
had obtained but little enjoyment; although, by Wilfred’s especial
desire, he was entreated not to inconvenience himself by hurrying his
departure, but to remain, should he so desire it, for three months upon
the estate. Truth to tell, he was not surprised in his inmost soul
at the turn matters had taken. Deep down in his coarse, sensual, and
overbearing nature there was a vein of superstition, and though over
and over again he had chased the idea from his mind as ridiculous and
impossible, he had never forgotten the conviction of Evelyn, that she
had seen her brother’s name in that place in the Family Tree of the
Manwarings from which it had been erased by her father. When, shortly
after his arrival at Holmcastle, his wife had been brought to bed of
a son--when any new instance occurred of the contempt or dislike in
which he was held by even his poorer neighbours--in fits of depression,
after a bout of unusually hard drinking, the lawyer had been wont to
unlock, examine, and re-examine the pedigree, and each time it was a
positive relief to him to find the space which erewhile had contained
the poor boy’s name white and blank. He knew it could not be there,
and yet he was relieved to find that it was not. His pride had been
deeply mortified by the studied neglect of the surrounding gentry,
who were justly incensed at his treatment of Evelyn, to call upon
himself and his wife, and by their avoidance of him upon all public
occasions; and he was enraged at the independence of manner and plain
speaking of the tenantry and labourers, whom he in vain strove to
intimidate by bluster and assumption. And now, when the day came for
his departure from the Manor, a new mortification awaited him. Passing
with his wife and daughters in two open carriages through the village
street on the way to the station, he saw a large bonfire in an open
space near the stocks, and, stopping to ascertain the cause, he beheld
unmistakable effigies of himself and wife (with large red noses),
and of his two eldest daughters (with red wigs), being committed to
the flames amidst the uproarious applause of a large portion of the
inhabitants. Under such untoward circumstances, a wise man would have
gone on his way without appearing to take any notice; but lawyer Potts
was not a wise man, although he was an angry one withal. Seeing, then,
the village constable surveying the conflagration with a broad grin
upon his somewhat stolid countenance, he stood up in the carriage,
and, with a magisterial air, imperiously commanded that functionary to
take two young men into custody who were assisting at the vicarious
_auto-da-fè_, and whom he indicated by name.
“I don’t see as they’ve done nothing to be took up for,” said the
constable, without moving; “they’s on’y amusing of themselves; and,
to tell ’ee the truth, Master Potts, I don’t see as you’ve no cause to
interfere yoursen, seeing as _you don’t belong to the Parish_;”
and then a loud and angry shout arose from the crowd, amidst which Mr.
Potts, with a curse, ordered the coachman to drive on.
On leaving the Manor, Mr. Potts returned to the house which he had
formerly occupied in Clitheroe, which had remained vacant from the time
of his accession to the property of Holmcastle; but the haughtiness and
bullying attitude which he had displayed on his elevation to his former
friends and clients at Clitheroe was remembered against him on his
return, and, finding that he was no longer consulted on legal business,
he retired to Manchester, where he took to hard drinking, and soon
after died in a fit of _delirium tremens_.
After Mr. Elthorne and Mr. Merivale had returned to Lancashire,
Mary Elthorne remained at Hampton Court as the guest of Evelyn; and
the Duke, obtaining leave of absence, came to stay with his mother,
in order to be near his friend; so the four young people were much
together. It only wanted about three months to the day when Wilfred
would come of age, and when the same important epoch in the Duke’s
life would take place only a few days later. It was therefore agreed
that the Duchess and her son should accompany Evelyn and her brother
to Holmcastle, for the coming of age of the latter, and that the whole
party should then proceed together to Ribblesdale Castle, where great
festivities were projected, to celebrate the Duke’s taking possession
of his estates.
Wilfred soon began to find that his new position as a landowner was not
without its troubles. One morning he received the following letter,
which was but a specimen of many which he received within a short time
of his being gazetted:--
Holmcastle Rectory,
_Saturday Night_.
MY DEAR WILFRED,
I am almost in despair, and I look to you alone to help me. I have
a scare that there will be a severe outbreak of scarlet fever in
Holmcastle, and I am afraid that you are the innocent cause thereof.
As you read this, you will think, I know, that I want you to embark
in some great drainage scheme, and perhaps to poison all Arrow Dale
by the establishment of a Sewage Farm, as a work whereby to signalise
your accession to power. In this, however, you are mistaken. The
fact is, that all the best young men and lads in the village, with
Luke Hebblethwaite at their head, are mad to enlist in the army, in
order that they may serve under “the young Squire,” for so they all
call you already. Only the louts and the ne’er-do-wells will remain
behind, and agriculture and trade will be at a standstill. The fact
is, my dear boy, you _ought_ to leave the army, in which you have
already gained the highest possible distinction and honour, for you
are _wanted_ at home, to fulfil the important duties which now
devolve upon you as a landlord and country gentleman. Do pray, then,
resign your commission, and come home for good. If your martial ardour
should continue to burn hotly, you might join the N. L. Militia; and,
between ourselves, I happen to know that the Lord-Lieutenant is bent
upon offering you the command of the North Lancashire Volunteers.
Think over this, and make up your mind to come home and be of
_use_. My wife joins me in kind love to yourself and Evelyn, and
to our truant Mary, who seems never to intend to come home. I am, as
always, your affectionate friend,
CHARLES ELTHORNE.
Wilfred showed this and other letters of like tenour to his sister,
and she, secretly egged on by her friend Mary, took the same side
with his correspondents. Wilfred had certainly no wish to leave the
army, but little by little he began to waver, and at last resolved to
take counsel on the subject with the young Duke of Ribblesdale. To his
surprise, he found that the Duke was all in favour of his resignation.
And then he heard that great pressure was being brought to bear upon
the Duke also, to induce him to take a similar step. In this way, then,
it came about, that after much discussion, _pro_ and _con_,
the two friends agreed that it was their duty to turn their swords into
ploughshares, to live among their own people, and to endeavour to do
their duty as country gentlemen and county magnates. In a short time
the same gazette announced that Her Majesty had been pleased to accept
the resignation of their commissions by Captain His Grace the Duke of
Ribblesdale, and Lieutenant Wilfred Manwaring, V.C.
On the evening before his departure from Hampton Court, with the
consent and approval of Captain Hawkins (who was himself present, and
sang a remarkably good and much-applauded song), Wilfred gave a grand
dinner to all the men of his troop in an ancient brew-house amongst
the offices of the Palace, which was lent by the authorities, and
gorgeously decorated for the occasion. This banquet went off merrily
enough, but the Lieutenant was affected almost to tears when the
troopers, at its close, presented him with a beautiful gun, purchased
by much self-denial on their part, as a parting gift to the comrade
they had loved, and the officer whom they had honoured.
The following morning the party left for the North. When they reached
the station of Oswaldshaugh, which was the nearest to Holmcastle, they
found themselves in the midst of the greatest excitement. The station
yard was crammed with carriages full of ladies--and those who know
North Lancashire the best, will best imagine how lovely many of those
ladies were--all anxious to see the Victoria Cross man and hero of
Candahar. With them were a goodly number of country gentlemen, mostly
on horseback, and at their head the old white-haired Lord Lieutenant,
the Earl of Grangemouth, and there was not a yeoman or farmer in all
Arrow Dale who was not there, each bestriding his stout nag. The
Clitheroe Volunteers, too, were present in force, and were supposed
to be drawn up in line; but when Wilfred, who, sorely against his
will, and only in accordance with the commands of the Duchess and
the entreaties of his sister, wore his uniform and Victoria Cross,
appeared with his sister outside the station, they broke their ranks,
and hustled and bustled, and roared and shouted, and committed every
possible breach of military decorum and decency. And then it turned
out that the Railway Company, knowing the taste of North-countrymen
for an _aout_, had run an excursion train from Preston up to
Oswaldshaugh, full of fine working-men, who wished to see the arrival
of “the Lancashire Hero,” and among them was a young fellow, in
bandsman’s military uniform, who was shouting at the top of his voice,
with an old, white-haired, widowed mother clinging to him, who cried
for joy as if her old heart would break entirely. And in this brave lad
Wilfred recognised the young trumpeter in whose behalf he had erewhile,
amidst the Himalayan mountains, thrashed the bully, Corporal Tozer.
The lad was indeed a native of Preston, and, being home on furlough,
had come up with his old mother to see and welcome his protector. In
short, _The Preston Guardian_ declared Wilfred’s reception to be
“a magnificent Ovation;” but the worthy reporter might have used a
stronger and (in the absence of a shower of rotten eggs) more correct
expression, for in truth it was a perfect triumph.
It was long before the carriage which contained the Duchess of
Ribblesdale and Evelyn, and the young Duke and Wilfred, was allowed
to depart; and the Lord Lieutenant--who, as a near neighbour and old
friend of the family, insisted on riding beside it, and who was a peer
of over seventy, and a widower--lost his heart completely to the fair
young girl.
When the cavalcade reached the bridge of Holmcastle, there were seen
two triumphal arches. One of these was surmounted by an object remotely
resembling a Catharine wheel, beneath which, without strict regard
to grammatical propriety, was inscribed, “Welcome to our Lancashire
Hero and Victoria Cross,” and the other bore the legend, “Long live
the Lovely Lily of our Dale.” And there the villagers were assembled,
young and old, some cheering, others--for they remembered the sweet
disposition and true brotherhood of the young Squire--crying for very
joy. And when at length they reached the Manor, they were met by a
host of old friends. The good Rector himself was the first to open
the carriage door, and the first person to greet Wilfred was Mary
Elthorne, who had been at home for about a fortnight, looking brighter
and fresher than ever, and wearing the most ravishing of summer hats.
You may be sure Mr. Merivale was not absent, and it was old Pinfold
who, trembling with emotion, conducted the lord of the Manor and his
guests into his own house and home. The Rector and Mr. Merivale, who
had managed everything, had found out and disinterred the faithful old
man from a back street in Manchester, where he had betaken himself upon
the arrival of Mr. Tresham Potts at the Manor.