CHAPTER XII.
MR BLAKE'S GOOD NEWS.
In the afternoon, after lunch had been eaten, there came a ring atthe back-door, and Mr Montagu Blake was announced. There had been alittle _contretemps_ or misadventure. It was Mr Blake's habit whenhe called at Croker's Hall to ride his horse into the yard, there togive him up to Hayonotes, and make his way in by the back entrance.On this occasion Hayonotes had been considerably disturbed in hiswork, and was discussing the sad condition of Mr Baggett withThornybush over the gate of the kitchen-garden. Consequently, MrBlake had taken his own horse into the stable, and as he was aboutto lead the beast up to the stall, had been stopped and confused bySergeant Baggett's protruding wooden leg.
"'Alloa! what's up now?" said a voice, addressing Mr Blakefrom under the straw. "Do you go down, old chap, and get usthree-penn'orth of cream o' the valley from the Cock."
Then Mr Blake had been aware that this prior visitor was not in acondition to be of much use to him, and tied up his own horse inanother stall. But on entering the house, Mr Blake announced thefact of there being a stranger in the stables, and suggested that theone-legged gentleman had been looking at somebody taking a glass ofgin. Then Mrs Baggett burst out into a loud screech of agony. "Thenasty drunken beast! he ought to be locked up into the darkest holethey've got in all Alresford."
"But who is the gentleman?" said Mr Blake.
"My husband, sir; I won't deny him. He is the cross as I have tocarry, and precious heavy he is. You must have heard of SergeantBaggett;--the most drunkenest, beastliest, idlest scoundrel as everthe Queen had in the army, and the most difficultest for a womanto put up with in the way of a husband! Let a woman be ever sodecent, he'd drink her gowns and her petticoats, down to her veryunderclothing. How would you like, sir, to have to take up with sucha beast as that, after living all your life as comfortable as anylady in the land? Wouldn't that be a come-down, Mr Blake? And thento have your box locked up, and be told that the key of your bedroomdoor is in the master's pocket." Thus Mrs Baggett continued tobewail her destiny.
Mr Blake having got rid of the old woman, and bethinking himselfof the disagreeable incidents to which a gentleman with a largerestablishment than his own might be liable, made his way into thesitting-room, where he found Mary Lawrie alone; and having apologisedfor the manner of his intrusion, and having said something intendedto be jocose as to the legs of the warrior in the stable, at onceasked a question as to John Gordon.
"Mr Gordon!" said Mary. "He was here this morning with MrWhittlestaff, but I know nothing of him since."
"He hasn't gone back to London?"
"I don't know where he has gone. He slept in Alresford last night,but I know nothing of him since."
"He sent his bag by the boy at the inn down to the railway stationwhen he came up here. I found his bag there, but heard nothing ofhim. They told me at the inn that he was to come up here, and Ithought I should either find him here or meet him on the road."
"Do you want to find him especially?"
"Well, yes."
"Do you know Mr Gordon?"
"Well, yes; I do. That is to say, he dined with me last night. Wewere at Oxford together, and yesterday evening we got talking aboutour adventures since."
"He told you that he had been at the diamond-fields?"
"Oh, yes; I know all about the diamond-fields. But Mr Hallparticularly wants to see him up at the Park." (Mr Hall was thesquire with four daughters who lived at Little Alresford.) "Mr Hallsays that he knew his father many years ago, and sent me out to lookfor him. I shall be wretched if he goes away without coming to LittleAlresford House. He can't go back to London before four o'clock,because there is no train. You know nothing about his movements?"
"Nothing at all. For some years past Mr Gordon has been altogether astranger to me." Mr Blake looked into her face, and was aware thatthere was something to distress her. He at once gathered from hercountenance that Mr Whittlestaff had been like the dog that stuckto his bone, and that John Gordon was like the other dog--thedisappointed one--and had been turned out from the neighbourhood ofthe kennel. "I should imagine that Mr Gordon has gone away, if notto London, then in some other direction." It was clear that the younglady intended him to understand that she could say nothing and knewnothing as to Mr Gordon's movements.
"I suppose I must go down to the station and leave word for himthere," said Mr Blake. Miss Lawrie only shook her head. "Mr Hallwill be very sorry to miss him. And then I have some special goodnews to tell him."
"Special good news!" Could it be that something had happened whichwould induce Mr Whittlestaff to change his mind. That was the onesubject which to her, at the present moment, was capable of meaningspecially good tidings.
"Yes, indeed, Miss Lawrie; double good news, I may say. Old MrHarbottle has gone at last at San Remo." Mary did know who MrHarbottle was,--or had been. Mr Harbottle had been the vicar atLittle Alresford, for whose death Mr Blake was waiting, in orderthat he might enter in together upon the good things of matrimony andthe living. He was a man so contented, and talked so frequently ofthe good things which Fortune was to do for him, that the tidings ofhis luck had reached even the ears of Mary Lawrie. "That's an oddway of putting it, of course," continued Mr Blake; "but then he wasquite old and very asthmatic, and couldn't ever come back again. Ofcourse I'm very sorry for him,--in one way; but then I'm very glad inanother. It is a good thing to have the house in my own hands, so asto begin to paint at once, ready for her coming. Her father wouldn'tlet her be married till I had got the living, and I think he wasright, because I shouldn't have liked to spend money in painting andsuch like on an uncertainty. As the old gentleman had to die, whyshouldn't I tell the truth? Of course I am glad, though it does soundso terrible."
"But what are the double good news?"
"Oh, I didn't tell you. Miss Forrester is to come to the Park. She isnot coming because Mr Harbottle is dead. That's only a coincidence.We are not going to be married quite at once,--straight off the reel,you know. I shall have to go to Winchester for that. But now that oldHarbottle has gone, I'll get the day fixed; you see if I don't. But Imust really be off, Miss Lawrie. Mr Hall will be terribly vexed if Idon't find Gordon, and there's no knowing where he may go whilst I'mtalking here." Then he made his adieux, but returned before he hadshut the door after him. "You couldn't send somebody with me, MissLawrie? I shall be afraid of that wooden-legged man in the stables,for fear he should get up and abuse me. He asked me to get him somegin,--which was quite unreasonable." But on being assured that hewould find the groom about the place, he went out, and the trot ofhis horse was soon heard upon the road.
He did succeed in finding John Gordon, who was listlessly waiting atthe Claimant's Arms for the coming of the four o'clock train whichwas to take him back to London, on his way, as he told himself, tothe diamond-fields. He had thrown all his heart, all the energy ofwhich he was the master, into the manner in which he had pleaded forhimself and for Mary with Mr Whittlestaff. But he felt the weaknessof his position in that he could not remain present upon the groundand see the working of his words. Having said what he had to say, hecould only go; and it was not to be expected that the eloquence of anabsent man, of one who had declared that he was about to start forSouth Africa, should be regarded. He knew that what he had said wastrue, and that, being true, it ought to prevail; but, having declaredit, there was nothing for him to do but to go away. He could not seeMary herself again, nor, if he did so, would she be so likely toyield to him as was Mr Whittlestaff. He could have no further excusefor addressing himself to the girl who was about to become the wifeof another man. Therefore he sat restless, idle, and miserable in thelittle parlour at the Claimant's Arms, thinking that the long journeywhich he had made had been taken all in vain, and that there wasnothing left for him in the world but to return to Kimberley, and addmore diamonds to his stock-in-trade.
"Oh, Gordon!" said Blake, bursting into the room, "you're the veryman I want to find. You can't go back to London to-day."
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"Can't I?"
"Quite out of the question. Mr Hall knew your father intimately whenyou were only a little chap."
"Will that prevent my going back to London?"
"Certainly it will. He wants to renew the acquaintance. He is amost hospitable, kind-hearted man; and who knows, one of the fourdaughters might do yet."
"Who is Mr Hall?" No doubt he had heard the name on the previousevening; but Hall is common, and had been forgotten.
"Who is Mr Hall? Why, he is the squire of Little Alresford, and mypatron. I forget you haven't heard that Mr Harbottle is dead atlast. Of course I am very sorry for the old gentleman in one sense;but it is such a blessing in another. I'm only just thirty, and it'sa grand thing my tumbling into the living in this way."
"I needn't go back because Mr Harbottle is dead."
"But Kattie Forrester is coming to the Park. I told you last night,but I daresay you've forgotten it; and I couldn't tell then that MrHall was acquainted with you, or that he would be so anxious to behospitable. He says that I'm to tell you to take your bag up to thehouse at once. There never was anything more civil than that. Ofcourse I let him know that we had been at Oxford together. That doesgo for something."
"The university and your society together," suggested Gordon.
"Don't chaff, because I'm in earnest. Kattie Forrester will be in bythe very train that was to take you on to London, and I'm to waitand put her into Mr Hall's carriage. One of the daughters, I don'tdoubt, will be there, and you can wait and see her if you like it. Ifyou'll get your bag ready, the coachman will take it with Kattie'sluggage. There's the Park carriage coming down the street now. I'llgo out and stop old Steadypace the coachman; only don't you keep himlong, because I shouldn't like Kattie to find that there was no oneto look after her at the station."
There seemed to be an opening in all this for John Gordon to remainat any rate a day longer in the neighbourhood of Mary Lawrie, andhe determined that he would avail himself of the opportunity. Hetherefore, together with his friend Blake, saw the coachman, andgave instructions as to finding the bag at the station, and preparedhimself to walk out to the Park. "You can go down to the station," hesaid to Blake, "and can ride back with the carriage."
"Of course I shall see you up at the house," said Blake. "Indeed I'vebeen asked to stay there whilst Kattie is with them. Nothing can bemore hospitable than Mr Hall and his four daughters. I'd give yousome advice, only I really don't know which you'd like the best.There is a sort of similarity about them; but that wears off when youcome to know them. I have heard people say that the two eldest arevery much alike. If that be so, perhaps you'll like the third thebest. The third is the nicest, as her hair may be a shade darker thanthe others. I really must be off now, as I wouldn't for worlds thatthe train should come in before I'm on the platform." With that hewent into the yard, and at once trotted off on his cob.
Gordon paid his bill, and started on his walk to Little AlresfordPark. Looking back into his early memories, he could just remember tohave heard his father speak of Mr Hall. But that was all. His fatherwas now dead, and, certainly, he thought, had not mentioned thename for many years. But the invitation was civil, and as he was toremain in the neighbourhood, it might be that he should again have anopportunity of seeing Mary Lawrie or Mr Whittlestaff. He found thatLittle Alresford Park lay between the town and Mr Blake's church,so that he was at the gate sooner than he expected. He went in, andhaving time on his hands, deviated from the road and went up a hill,which was indeed one of the downs, though between the park paling.Here he saw deer feeding, and he came after a while to a beech grove.He had now gone down the hill on the other side, and found himselfclose to as pretty a labourer's cottage as he remembered ever to haveseen. It was still June, and it was hot, and he had been on his legsnearly the whole morning. Then he began to talk, or rather to thinkto himself. "What a happy fellow is that man Montagu Blake! Hehas every thing,--not that he wants, but that he thinks that hewants. The work of his life is merely play. He is going to marry awife,--not who is, but whom he thinks to be perfection. He looks asthough he were never ill a day in his life. How would he do if hewere grubbing for diamonds amidst the mud and dust of Kimberley?Instead of that, he can throw himself down on such a spot as this,and meditate his sermon among the beech-trees." Then he began tothink whether the sermon could be made to have some flavour of thebeech-trees, and how much better in that case it would be, and as heso thought he fell asleep.
He had not been asleep very long, perhaps not five minutes, when hebecame aware in his slumbers that an old man was standing over him.One does thus become conscious of things before the moment of wakinghas arrived, so positively as to give to the sleeper a false sense ofthe reality of existence. "I wonder whether you can be Mr Gordon,"said the old man.
"But I am," said Gordon. "I wonder how you know me."
"Because I expect you." There was something very mysteriousin this,--which, however, lost all mystery as soon as he wassufficiently awake to think of things. "You are Mr Blake's friend."
"Yes; I am Mr Blake's friend."
"And I am Mr Hall. I didn't expect to find you sleeping here in GarWood. But when I find a strange gentleman asleep in Gar Wood, I puttwo and two together, and conclude that you must be Mr Gordon."
"It's the prettiest place in all the world, I think."
"Yes; we are rather proud of Gar Wood,--especially when the deer arebrowsing on the hill-side to the left, as they are now. If you don'twant to go to sleep again, we'll walk up to the house. There's thecarriage. I can hear the wheels. The girls have gone down to fetchyour friend's bride. Mr Blake is very fond of his bride,--as I daresay you have found out."
Then, as the two walked together to the house, Mr Hall explainedthat there had been some little difference in years gone by betweenold Mr Gordon and himself as to money. "I was very sorry, but I hadto look after myself. You knew nothing about it, I dare say."
"I have heard your name--that's all."
"I need not say anything more about it," said Mr Hall; "only whenI heard that you were in the country, I was very glad to have theopportunity of seeing you. Blake tells me that you know my friendWhittlestaff."
"I did not know him till yesterday morning."
"Then you know the young lady there; a charming young lady she is. Mygirls are extremely fond of Mary Lawrie. I hope we may get them tocome over while you are staying here."
"I can only remain one night,--or at the most two, Mr Hall."
"Pooh, pooh! We have other places in the neighbourhood to show youquite as pretty as Gar Wood. Though that's a bounce: I don't thinkthere is any morsel quite so choice as Gar Wood when the deer arethere. What an eye you must have, Mr Gordon, to have made it out byyourself at once; but then, after all, it only put you to sleep. Iwonder whether the Rookery will put you to sleep. We go in this way,so as to escape the formality of the front door, and I'll introduceyou to my daughters and Miss Forrester."