CHAPTER XVIII.
CONCUSSION.
All the time these things were going on, the patient Christie had beenwaiting, or rather driving to and fro, on the outskirts of the privategrounds. These were large, and well adorned with trees of ancientgrowth, and clumps of shrubs, and ferny dingles. Southward stretched therich Perle valley, green with meadows beloved by cows, who expressedtheir fine emotions in the noblest cream; on the north-east side was theBeacon Hill, sheltering from the bitter winds, and forming a goodlylandmark; while to the north and west extended heathery downs with sweetshort grass, knolls of Scotch fir here and there, and gorse for everblooming. Across these downs, and well above the valley-margin ran oneof the two great western roads, broad and smooth as a ball-room floor,and ringing some forty times a day, with the neigh, and the tramp, andthe harness-rattle of four steeds tossing their heads up, and themusical blast of long brass horn, or merry notes of key-bugle.
Christie Fox in her own opinion was an exceedingly fine whip.Tandem-driving was then much in vogue; and truly to be a goodtandem-whip was one of the loftiest aspirations of the rational beingwho could afford it. Christie was scarcely up to that mark yet, althoughshe had been known to "tool a team," when her father had the gout, andthere was some one at her side. So it may be supposed, with what sweetcontempt her sparkling eyes regarded Churchwarden Tarrant's rattle-trap,and his old cob Punch anteceding it.
"Now don't you go capering about, Miss Chris;" her brother had said whenhe left her. "I should have brought George, or at any rate the boy.These lanes are so narrow, and the ditches such a depth."
"Well, Jemmy, it shows how little you have been at home! Why I can driveSparkler, and Wild-oats, and Hurricane. To think of my coming to griefwith this old screw!"
"You are a wonder, no doubt. But at any rate, be careful. He is a quietold buffer, but he has got a temper of his own. Why he upset theReverend, last summer."
"He won't spill me, I can tell him that. The Reverend is a muff--heshould have let him say his prayers."
For a long time the young lady proved that she was right. _Punch_ wentup and down, and even on the common, as grave as a Judge, and as steadyas a Church. "Poor old chap!" said Christie to him; "Why you haven't gotthe pluck to call your soul your own." _Punch_ only replied with a whiskof his tail, as if to say--"well, I can call this my own," and pursuedhis reflections, with a pensive head.
But suddenly the scene changed. A five-barred gate was flung mightilyopen, half across the lane, with a fierce creak of iron, and a shiveringof wood; and out poured a motley crowd of all sorts and sizes, rattlingtea-kettles, and beating frying-pans, blowing old cow's horns, andflourishing a blown dozen of Bob Jake's bladders, with nuts inside them._Punch_ was coming past, in a moody state of mind, down upon his luck insome degree, and wondering what the world was made for, if a piece ofiron in a horse's mouth was allowed to deny him the Almighty's gift ofgrass. However he resigned himself about all that.
But when this tremendous uproar broke upon him--for it happened to bethe Northern party of the parish, beating bounds towards the back ofBeacon Hill, and eager to win a bet about where they met the otherlot--and when a gate was flung almost into his shaky knees, which hadbegun for some time to "come over," up rose the spirit of his huntingdays, for he had loved the hounds, when he was young. There was no roomto rise the gate; or perhaps he would have tried it, for the mettle ofspringier times sprang up, and he had never heard a louder noise, in themost exciting burst. Surely his duty was at least to jump a hedge.
He forgot altogether that he stood between two shafts, and that a younglady was entrusted to his care. Swerving to the off-side, he saw acomely gap, prepared no doubt by Providence, for the benefit of a horsenot quite so young as he used to be. And without hesitation he went atit, meaning no harm, and taking even less heed of the big ditch on thisside of it. Both shafts snapped, though of fine lance-wood, thefour-wheeler became two vehicles, each with a pair of wheels to it, andover the back flew Christie, like a sail blown out of the bolt-ropes.
Luckily she wore large bell-sleeves, as every girl with self-respect wasthen compelled to do; and these, like parachutes expanding, broke thefull speed of her headlong flight. Even so it must have fared very badlywith her--for her hat being stringless had flown far away--had she beenallowed to strike the earth; but quicker than thought a very activefigure sprang round the head of the gate, and received the impact of herhead upon a broad staunch breast. The blow was severe, and would haveknocked the owner down, had he not been an English yeoman.
Upon a double-breasted waistcoat, made of otter skin, soft and elastic,he received the full brunt of the young lady's head, as the goal-keeperstops a football. Throwing forward his arms, he was just in time tocatch more of her, as it descended; and thus was this lovely maidensaved from permanent disfigurement, if not from death. But for the time,she knew nothing of this.
Frank Gilham held her very firmly in his arms, and wondered, as well hemight do, at her good fortune and his own. Others came crowding roundthe gate, but none had the least idea who she was, and Gilham would notpermit one of them to touch her, though many would gladly have sharedhis load. Throughout all history, it has been the nature of the Britishyeoman to bear his own burden, be it good or be it evil.
"Her be crule doiled," "A' vear her neck be bracken," "Look e' zee whatpurty hair her hath!" "Vetch a drap watter," "Carr' un up to big 'ouze,""Her be scrunched like a trummot"--in this way they went on, all gapingand staring, eager to help, but not sure of the way.
"Lift the gate from its hinges, and lay it down here;" said Gilham, forshe still remained senseless; "run to yon rick--they've been hay-bindingthere; bring a couple of trusses, and spread them on the gate."
In two minutes Christie was lying on the gate--for Devonshire men can bequick when they like--bedded and pillowed among sweet hay, with FrankGilham's coat spread across her pretty dress, and his hand supportingher fair head, and easing the jerks as they bore her up the road. Butbefore they had gone more than ten or twenty yards towards Walderscourt,whom should they come upon but Dr. Jemmy Fox, looking very joyful, untilhe met them?
"My sister! My own dear Chris!" he exclaimed; and they fell away, whilehe examined her.
"Concussion. Only slight, I hope. Thank God!" he said, with his eyesfull of tears; "keep her head like that, I will take this end; now, whothe other? But not to the Court--anywhere but that. Never mind why. Ican't stop to explain. What is the nearest house, this other way?"
"Mother's is not more than half a mile away, and good level road,"answered Gilham. "She'd be well-treated there. You may trust us forthat."
"You are a brick. Take the other end, Frank. Some fellow with good legsrun in front, and tell Mrs. Gilham what her son has said. No crowdinground there; we want all the air. One or two of you run and catch Mr.Farrant's horse before he tumbles through that harrow. The rest of yougo on with your beating work." For _Punch_ was careering across aploughed field, like a wrecker with his plunder at his heels.
By the time they arrived at White Post Farm, Mrs. Gilham was ready toreceive them, a kind old lady as ever lived, sensible, quiet, andready-witted. A bed on the ground-floor was ready, and poor Christie,who still lay as if in a heavy sleep, was carried in very gently; andplaced as well as might be upon it. Sometimes she was breathing withlong gasps, and at other times showing no life at all, and her eyes wereclosed as in a soft deep sleep. "The pretty dear! The poor young thing!"cried Mrs. Gilham, and a real cry it was.
"I shall not leave her till she comes to herself--that is if you willlet me stop," said her brother, who was much more anxious than he caredto let them see. "But if you could send a note to my Old Barn, Georgewould come over, with a little chest I want."
"In twenty minutes, I will be there," answered Gilham, "and back inanother fifteen with it, if it will come on horseback."
He had saddled a horse, and was off in two minutes, while Fox calledafter him down the lane, to see on his road through Priestwell whetherDr. Gr
onow was at home, and beg him to come up if possible.
Gronow came at once, when called; for if anything is remarkable amongthe professors of the healing art (beyond their inability to heal) it isthe good-will with which they always try their best, and the largenessof their ministrations to each other's families. Parsons appeal to oneanother for a leg-up very freely; but both reading-desk and pulpit feelthat the strange foot is not up to much, unless it has its footing paid.
But Dr. Gronow (besides the kindness of his kind profession, always atthe service of its members) had an especial regard for Fox, as a youngman much of his own type, one who dared to think for himself, and beingthoroughly well-grounded, often felt impatient at the vast uncertaintyabove. Whatever faith a young man may feel in his own powers ofperception, it is a happy moment, when a veteran confirms him.
"She will be all right," said the man of long practice, after carefulexamination; "only she must have her time, which you know as well as Ido. Never mind if she lies like this, for twelve or even for twenty-fourhours; though I do not think that it will last so long. She ought tohave a face she knows and loves, to meet her own, when herconsciousness returns. Then you know how to treat her. _Verbum sat._ ButI want to have a long talk with you, when this anxiety is over. Why haveyou kept so long out of my way? Come down to my house, when your sistercan spare you."
Fox would have found it hard to say, or at any rate to tell Gronow, whatwere his reasons for avoiding Priestwell, while the present black cloudhung over him. In fact to himself his own motives had not been veryclear or well considered; but pride was perhaps the foremost. If Gronowintended to take his part, the first thing to do was to call at OldBarn, and let everybody know it. And the young man failed to recollect,that the elder might have good reasons of his own, for keeping hisdistance just at first. Nothing but kind consideration had preventedGronow from calling upon Fox straightway, for he knew what significancepeople would attach to such a visit. Suspicion had fallen upon him aswell; and many of the baser sort declared, that old and young doctor hadarranged that piece of work between them.
Liberal as he was, and kind, whenever a case of real want or trouble wasbrought before him, the retired physician was not beloved yet by hisneighbours, and he knew it, and was well content to have it so.
"A queer old chap"--was the usual summary of his character in theparish; and the charitable added, "no call to blame him; a little bittouched in the upper storey."
To the vast relief of her brother, and the delight of her kind hostess,Christie Fox that very night contrived to come to herself, almost assuddenly as she had left it.
"What is all this about?" she asked, opening her clear eyes strongly."Why, Jemmy, you have got no hat on! And where is mine? Oh dear! ohdear! Thirty shillings, without the trimming."
"There it is, dear, as large as life, and not a speck upon it. Now drinkthis cup of tea; and then I'll finish what I was saying."
"No, you always talk so fast, and you never let me say a word. I mightjust as well have no tongue at all."
The young lady spoke in such fine ignorance of the self she had comeback to, that there could be no doubt of her being all there. Andpresently the "cup of tea" had such a tranquillising power that she fellinto a sweet deep sleep, and did not awake until the sun was as high ashe meant to go at that time of the year. At first she had a slow dullheadache, and felt stiff all over. But Mrs. Gilham appearing with anapkin'd tray, thin toast and butter, a couple of pullet's eggs justlaid, and one or two other brisk challenges at the hands of her youngestdaughter, nature arose with an open mouth to have the last word aboutit, and Christie made a famous breakfast.
Very soon Dr. Gronow looked in again, and smiled in his dry way at her,for he was not a man of many words. She gave her round wrist to be felt,and the slim pink tongue to be glanced at, and the bright little head tobe certified cool and sound under the curls; and passing thisexamination with high honours, she thought him a "very nice old man;"though his face was not at first sight perhaps of the sweet andbenevolent order.
Then the old doctor took the young doctor aside--for Jemmy had not beenout of hail all night--and said, "She will do. I congratulate you. Noserious lesion, no feverish symptoms--just a bump on her head from amother-of-pearl button. But she has been severely shaken. I would notmove her for a day or two."
"May she get up?" asked Jemmy in that spirit of pure submission, withwhich a doctor resigns his own family to the care of another, who knowsperhaps less than he himself does. But the plan is wise for the mostpart, inasmuch as love is apt to cloud the clearest eyes.
"To be sure she may. It will do her good. But not to walk about yet.These people are the kindest of the kind. You may safely leave all thatto the ladies. Meanwhile you are better out of the way. Come down for anhour or two, and share my early dinner. You want looking to yourself.You have not had a bit for some twenty-four hours."
It was little more than ten minutes' walk to Gronow's house atPriestwell, and Fox accepted the invitation gladly. Neither in thecourse of their walk, nor during their meal, did his entertainer referto the mysterious subject, which was always in the mind of one, andoften in that of the other. But Gronow enlarged upon his favouritetopic--the keen sagacity, and almost too accurate judgment possessed bytrout, and the very great difficulty he experienced in catching them,unless the stream was muddy.
"But you can't fish at this time of year," observed Fox; "at least sopeople say. I know nothing about it. Hunting and shooting are more to mytaste."
"You can fish every day in the year," replied Gronow; "at any rate inthis river. There is nothing against it, but prejudice. The little onesare as bright as a new shilling now, and the old ones as a guinea."
"But surely they should be allowed time to breed."
"That is their business, and none of mine. If they choose to neglectwhat they should be doing, and come to my hook, why I pull themout--that is to say, if they don't slip off."
"But your hook has no right to be there just then."
"Is it for a fish to dictate to me, how I should employ my time? Ibought this property for the fishing. The interest of my money runs allthe year round, and so must what I spent it on."
Fox saw that he would only irritate this concise logician, by furthercontention on behalf of the fish; and he was quite disarmed, when thecandid doctor added--
"I don't mean to say, that such a fellow as young Pike, Penniloe'ssenior pupil, should be allowed to fish all the year round; for he nevergoes out without catching something. But my case is different; thewinter owes me all the blank days I had in the summer; and as they werenine out of every ten, I shall not have caught up the record, by thetime the May-fly comes back again."
"Then you can't do much harm now," thought Fox; "and the trout will soonhave their revenge, my friend--a fine attack of rheumatism, well inseason."
"And now," said Dr. Gronow, when dinner was over, and "red and whitewine," as they were always called then, had been placed upon the table,not upon a cloth, but on the dark red sheen; "now you can smoke if youlike. I don't, just at present. Let us talk of all this botheration.What an idiot world it is! You are young, and will have to wag your tailto it. I go along, with my tail straight; like a dog who does not careto fight, but is ready, if it comes to that."
"I know pretty well how you look at things. And it is the best way, forthose who can afford it. Of course, I am bound to pretend not to care;and I keep up pretty well, perhaps. But for all that, it is not veryjolly. If my sister had not turned up, I am not sure how I should havegot on at all. Though Penniloe was very good, and so were severalothers, especially Mockham. I must have a pipe, if you don't mind. Itmakes me feel so grateful."
"That is something in its favour, and shows how young you still remain.I would cultivate the pipe more than I do; if so it would bring back myyouth; not for the youth--blind puppyhood--but for thinking better of myrace, and of myself as one of them."
"It is not for me to reason with you," Fox answered humbly, as he blew ag
entle cloud; "you are far above me, in every way. I am stupid enough;but I always know, when I come across a stronger mind."
"Not a stronger, but a harder one. We will not go into that questionnow. Reams have been written about it, and they leave us none the wiser.The present point is--how are you to get out of this very nasty scrape?"
"I don't care to get out. I will face it out. When a man knows his owninnocence----"
"That is all very fine; but it won't work. Your prospects do not depend,I know, at all upon your profession. But for the sake of all yourfriends, your sweet high-spirited sister, your good mother, and all yourfamily, you must not rest upon that manly view. Your innocence may be acoat of mail to yourself. But it will not shelter them."
"I have thought of all that. I am not so selfish. But who can prove anegative?"
"The man who can prove the positive. You will never be quit, until youshow who was the real perpetrator. A big word to use; for, after all,the horror at such things is rather childish. The law regards it so, andin its strong perception of mortal rights, has made it a felony to stealthe shroud, to steal the body an indictable offence, to be punishedwith fine, or (if a poor man did it) with imprisonment."
"Is that the law? I could scarcely have believed it. And they talk ofthe absurdities of our profession!"
"Yes, that is the law. And perhaps you see now, why your enemies havenot gone further. They see that it damns you ten times more, to lieunder the imputation, than it would to be brought to trial, and beacquitted, as you must be. You have not to thank them for any mercy,only for knowing their own game."
"It is enough to make one a misanthrope for life," said Fox, lookingreally fierce once more. "I hoped that they had found their mistakeabout me, and were sorry for accusing an innocent man."
"Alas for the credulity of youth! No Jemmy, the Philistines are uponthee. You have to reckon with a wily lot, and an implacable woman behindthem. They will take every advantage of the rank cowardice of theclodhopper, and the terror of all those pitch-plaster tales. You knowhow these things have increased, ever since that idiotic Act of two orthree years back. That a murderer should be prevented even fromaffording some posthumous expiation! And yet people call it a religiousage--to rob a poor wretch of his last hope of heaven!"
"Your idea is a grim one;" answered Fox with a smile; "I never saw it inthat light before. But now tell me one thing--and it is a main point.You know that you can trust me with your opinion. I confess that I am atmy wits' ends. The thing must have been done, to solve some doubt. Thereis no one about here who would dare the risk, even if there were any onezealous enough; and so far as I know, short of Exeter, there are nonebut hum-drums, and jog-trots."
"You have expressed your opinion already a little too freely to thateffect, Master Jemmy."
"Perhaps I have. But I never meant it to go round. It was young andsilly of me. But what I want to ask you is this--do you think itpossible that, you know who----"
"Harrison Gowler?" said Dr. Gronow calmly. "It is possible, but mostimprobable. Gowler knew what it was, even better than you did, or Ifrom your account of it. Introsusception is not so very rare, evenwithout a strain, or the tendency to it from an ancient wound. Puttingaside all the risk and expense--and I know that friend Gowler sticksclose to his money--and dropping all the feelings of a gentleman--whatsufficient motive could Gowler have? An enthusiastic tiro might havelonged to verify, etc., but not a man of his experience. He knew it all,as well as if he had seen it. No, you may at once dismiss that idea, ifyou ever formed it."
"I never did form it. It was suggested; and all that you have saidoccurred to me. Well, I know not what to think. The mystery is hopeless.All we can be certain of is, that the thing was done."
"Even of that I am not quite so certain. I am never sure of anything,unless I see it. I have come across such instances of things establishedbeyond doubt--and yet they never occurred at all. And you know what aset of fools these fat-chopped yokels are, when scared. Why theyactually believe in Spring-heeled Jack, Lord Somebody, and the tenthousand guinea bet! And they quake in their beds, if the windowsrattle. Look at that idiot of a blacksmith, swearing that he saw youwith the horse! A horse? A night-mare, or a mare's nest, I should say.Why it would not surprise me a bit, if it proved that the worthy baronetis reposing in his grave, as calmly as his brave and warlike spiritcould desire. If not, it is no fault of our profession, but the resultof some dark history, to which as yet we have no clue."
Dr. Gronow had a manner of saying things, in itself so distinct andimpressive, and seconded so ably by a lowering of his eyebrows, andwrinkling of his large steep forehead, that when he finished up with hismouth set close, and keen eyes fixed intently, it was hard to believethat he could be wrong--supposing at least that he meant to be right.
"Well, sir," said the young man, strongly feeling this effect; "you haveoften surprised me by the things you have said. And strange as theyseemed, they have generally proved correct in the end. But as to yourfirst suggestion, it is impossible, I fear, to think of it; after whatat least a dozen people saw, without hurry, and in broad daylight. Theother matter may be as you say. If so, it only makes it worse for me.What hope can I have of ever getting at the bottom of it?"
"Time, my dear fellow, time will show. And the suspicion against youwill be weakening every day, if you meet it with calm disdain. Youalready have the blacksmith's recantation--a blow in the teeth for yourenemies. I am not exactly like your good parson, who exhorts youdevoutly to trust in the Lord. 'The Lord helps those who helpthemselves,' is my view of that question. Though I begin to think highlyof Penniloe. He was inclined to be rude about the flies I use, once ortwice last summer. But I shall look over that, as he has been so ill. Ishall call and enquire for him to-morrow."
"But what am I to do, to help myself? It is so easy to say, 'take iteasily.' What is the first step for me to take? I could offer rewards,and all that sort of thing. I could send for experienced men fromLondon. I have written to a friend of mine there already, but have hadno answer. I could put myself in a clever lawyer's hands. I could do alot of things, no doubt, and spread the matter far and wide. But thefirst result would be to kill my dear father. I told you in what acondition he lies."
"Yes. You are terribly 'handicapped' as the racing people call it.Penniloe's illness was much against you. So was your own absence. Sowere several other things. But the worst of all is your father's sadstate. And the better he gets, the worse the danger. But for all that, Ican give you one comfort. I have never yet known things combine againsta man, persistently and relentlessly, if he went straight ahead at them.They jangle among themselves, by and by, even as his enemies are sure todo; and instead of being hunted down, he slips out between them. Onething I can undertake perhaps. But I won't talk of it until I know more,and have consulted Penniloe. What, have you never had a glass of wine?Well, that is too bad of me! These are the times, when even a young manwants it, and an old one should sympathise with him thus. Oh, you wantto get back to the fair Miss Christie? Very well, take her half a dozenof my pears. These people about here don't know what a pear is,according to my interpretation of the word."