CHAPTER XIX.
PERCUSSION.
This was not the right time of year for spring of hope, and boundinggrowth; the first bloom-bud of the young heart growing milky, and yetdefiant; and the leaf-bud pricking up, hard and reckless, because it cannever have a family. Not the right time yet for whispered openings, andshy blush of petals, still uncertain of the air, and creeping back intoeach other's clasp lest they should be tempted to come out too soon.Neither was there in the air itself that coy, delusive, tricksome way,which it cannot help itself for having, somewhere about the month ofApril, when the sun is apt to challenge and then shirks the brunt.
In a word (though no man can prove a negative, as Jemmy Fox had wellremarked) it was the very time when no young man, acquainted with thecalendar of his Church, should dream of falling into love, even thoughhe had a waistcoat of otterskin, and fourteen pearl-buttons upon it.
In spite of all that, it was the positive which prevailed in this case.Frank Gilham had received such a blow upon his heart, that the seasonand the weather were nothing to it. The fall of the leaf, and retirementof the sap--though the Saps now tell us that it never does retire--hadless than no effect upon his circulation. He went in vainly for a goodday's ploughing, for he could hold as well as drive; but there was hiswaistcoat, and his heart inside it; and even when he hung the one uponan oak-tree, the other kept going on, upon its private business; and"Whoa! Stand still, hossy!" had no effect upon it.
He sneaked into the house, as if he had no right there--though hismother had only a life-interest--and he made a serious matter of theshortness of his nails, and felt a conscientious longing, when he sawhis whiskers, to kick the barber at Pumpington, who had shorn them witha pair of tailor's scissors, so abominably on the last market-day. Butlast market-day, this young man's heart had been inditing of pigs andpeas, whereof he had made a tidy penny, because he was a sharp fellowthen.
"How is she now?" he asked his young sister Rose, when he came down atlast, discontented with himself, though appearing unusually smart toher.
"Well, thank you, Frank, mother is not quite the thing to-night. She didnot get quite her proper rest, you know, on account of the strange younglady. And she never took her hore-hound lozenges. She thinks too much ofothers, and too little of herself----"
"As if I did not know all that! Will you never tell me anything I wantto know? But I suppose the young lady won't keep her up to-night?"
"She? Oh she is all right enough. You should just see her eat. Mygoodness! Talk of farmhouse appetites!"
"Rose, who are you to understand such things? You have seen so verylittle of the world; and you judge it entirely by yourself. I supposethe door is not open?"
"Oh yes. Anybody can look in, if that's what you want to do. She hasbeen sitting up ever so long, with mother's dressing-gown and Sundayshawl on. Such a guy you never see in all your life!"
"A pity you can't be a guy then. Why Rose, if you only had a hundredthpart----"
"Yes, I dare say. But I don't want, don't you see? I am quite contentedas I am; and better judges than you will ever be--why that coloured hairis quite out of fashion now. Everybody goes in for this sort of tint,and a leaden comb to make it darker. Corkscrews are all the rage, andthey can't be too black. Why Minnie Farrant told me, last Sunday, thatshe read on the best authority----"
"Her Bible, or her Prayer-book?"
"Don't be so absurd. The very best authority, that Queen Adelaideherself told His Majesty as much, and he said he was a Tar, and the bestpitch wasn't black. That was to please her, you know. Wasn't it cleverof him? Oh Frank, why don't you fall in love with Minnie Farrant--yourown Godfather's favourite child, and they say she'll have four thousandpounds?"
"Minnie Farrant! Why, I'd rather have a broomstick. Though she is allvery well in her way, of course."
"She is the prettiest girl in this parish, by long chalks, except ofcourse Nicie Waldron. And I suppose you wouldn't quite stick up to her."
"Stick up indeed! Is that the way you learn to express yourself at afinishing school? But do look sharp with the frying-pan, if yourcorkscrews are not too precious. I don't want Minnie Farrant, nor evenMiss Waldron--I want my little bit of supper, and you know it wellenough. I am sorry for the ninny that ever falls in love with you."
"So am I. Because I won't have him. But what fun it will be! I shallstarve him out. All you men think about is eating; and I shall say----"
"Rose again, as usual! Her long tongue running away with her." Mrs.Gilham looked very serious, for every day she found stronger proof thatgirls were not as they used to be. "You have had your tea, child, andyou want nothing more. I am sure you should be the very last to talk asif eating were a sin. Go and help Mary with your dear brother's supper.He has been hard at work all day."
"Sticks to his work, wants no diverting-- A model young man in the farming line! Never goes hunting, dancing, flirting, Doesn't know the flavour of a glass of wine."
Away danced Rosie to the tune of her own song, with her light figurefrisking from side to side of the long stone passage.
"Ah me! I fear we shall have trouble yet with that very thoughtlessgirl. She can only see the light side of everything. It is high time forher now; why before I was seventeen--But Frank, you don't look likeyourself to-night!" The old lady went up to him, and pushed aside hishair, as crisp and curly as a double hyacinth. "I am almost sure, thereis something on your mind. Your dear father had exactly that expressionupon his face, at periods of his married life. But then it was alwaysthe times when he had rheumatics in his left shoulder blade; and I usedto iron them out with brown paper, the darkest brown that you can get,and a sprinkle of vinegar underneath, as hot as ever you can bear it; infact, until it begins to singe, and then----"
"Well, nobody will ever do that to me, thank God!" Frank spoke in a veryreckless tone, and strictly avoided his mother's eyes.
"I will, my son, if I live long enough. Old Mrs. Horner used to say--notthe present Mrs. John, you know, but her husband's mother----"
"Excuse me, dear mother, but I thought I heard a call. Shall I go, andknock at the young lady's door?"
"Frank, how can you ask such a question? Not that she is not in verypretty order, and fit for any one to look at her; with my dressing-gownon, as good as new, and the big picture-Bible on one side of her, and'The Fashionable Lady's Vade Mecum' on the other."
"How queer she must look in your dressing-gown, mother! Quite an oldfrump, I suppose?"
"I am very much obliged to you, my son. But as it happens, Miss ChristieFox does not look at all like an old frump; though your poor motherwould of course, and must expect it--though not perhaps quite to be toldof it. On the contrary, Miss Fox looks very bright and blooming, withher eyes like the sky itself, and her lovely hair flowing all down hershoulders."
"I had better go and see whether she has knocked for something. I neednot go in of course. In fact I should not think of it, only just to popmy head inside the door, and then----"
"No, you won't pop it, sir, in any place of the kind. Remember that itis a bedroom; and you are a gentleman--or ought to be."
"Oh, come, mother! That's a little too hard on me. I never meantanything, except to save you trouble, by just asking--Well, I didn'tthink you would speak to me in that way."
"Well my boy, perhaps I spoke too hastily. Words turn so different,outside the lips! But I should not like a visitor of ours to think shehad fallen among savages. But here comes your supper at last; and smallthanks to Rosie. Why at her time of life, I should have been too proudto serve my only brother, hand and foot. But I must just run back, andget my young lady tucked up. High time for her to be in bed again. Herbrother has sent her box full of things, and so we shall be able to gether out a bit to-morrow, if the weather permits, and Dr. Gronow."
Dr. Gronow permitted, and so did the weather. Can any man remember whenhe was stopped from making a fool of himself by the weather, orencouraged in any wisdom by it? How many a youth under vast umbr
ella,warranted to shelter two, if their shoulders came nice and closetogether, with the storm beating on them, and suggesting--but suchumbrellas are not made now, fine canopies of whalebone--who would buythem? Who thinks of more than his own top-hat?
Unless he sees a chance of a gold-band round it. And that, to tell thetruth, has been very charming always. But here was Frank Gilham, withoutany thought of that. He knew that Jemmy Fox was a fine young fellow,perhaps a little bit above him in the social scale, and likely to be awealthy man, some day. But of sweet Christie he knew nothing, exceptthat he wanted to know a great deal.
Therefore he found that the young mare was puffing, and wanted wetbandages, and a day in stable--excess of synovial oil is a seriousstudy. While on the other hand old _Tommy_, as hard and as dry as abrick-bat, was not altogether free from signs of rheumatism, and hadscraped up his litter, in a manner that meant something. He put it tohis mother, whether they should plough to-day. It might be all right,and the horses were hers. If she thought wise to venture it----
"It is no use trying to persuade me, Frank," Mrs. Gilham answered; "Iwon't risk it. Your dear father lost a good horse once, although Iadvised him to the contrary. Under Providence, our first duty is to thefaithful and long-suffering creatures, provided by Him for the benefitof mankind. You may try to persuade me, as much as you like. But youdon't seem to have got your ploughing trousers on!"
"That is not a question of ten minutes. When I looked out of window,the first thing this morning----"
"Yes to be sure. You were considering the weather. Your dear father didthe same; though always wrong about it. But it is useless to argue withme, Frank. I must have my own way, sometimes."
"Very well. Very well, then I won't go. I have got a lot of littlethings to see to here. Why the rack in the kitchen would soon be rackand ruin."
"Frank, you do say the very cleverest things. And I feel in myself thatit never comes from me. Thank God that I have such a dutiful son, thoughhis mind is so superior."
The young man exerted his superior mind upon a very solid breakfast,topped up with honey, gushing limpid from the comb, sweeter than thesoftest beeswing of the meed of love. Then he sauntered in the mow-yardwith his ginger terrier Jack; whom no wedded love could equal, inaptitude to smell a rat. But hay was sweet, and clover sweeter, and therich deep ricks of wheat--golden piles on silver straddles--showed theglossy stalk, and savoured of the glowing grain within. A man mightthrust his arm into the yellow thicket here and there, and fetch thechined and plump ear out, and taste the concrete milkiness.
"Rose told me that I should just see her eat," Frank Gilham meditated;"what a greedy thing to say! Was it because eggs are now so scarce, andRose wanted all of them for herself? But if she likes good things, Icould have this rick of brown wheat threshed to-morrow. The bread is tentimes as sweet and toothsome--oh by the by, what teeth she has, likewind-flower buds among roses. Two or three times, her lips just showedthem, while she was lying upon that hay. But what are her teeth tocompare with her lips? And did anybody ever see such cheeks, even withthe pink flown out of them? There's nothing that you could find a flawin; forehead, hair, and eyes, and nose--though I can't pretend quitethat I have seen her eyes yet--merely a sort of a flash in the air,while she was flying over the backrail of the trap. Only there is nodenying that they must be like heaven itself, full of Angels. Mothersays the sky, but that sounds so common. So far as that goes, everybodyis allowed to look at the sky; but who would care ever to see it again,after a glimpse--Jack, what are you about there? Got into a gin? Well,serves you right for mooning."
"Frank! Frank! Frank!" A loud call rang among the ricks. "Got awaysmoking again, I'll be bound. I never can understand how it is, hedoesn't set every blessed rick on fire."
"Not smoking at all, as it happens. But how frightfully shrill yourvoice is, Rosie!"
"What a swell we are, to be sure, to-day! And getting quite nervous.Wants cotton wool in his ears, poor dear! But the precious young lady isjust coming out. And mother says you should be somewhere handy, in caseof her being taken faint. About as likely to faint as I am, I shouldsay. Now mind your P's and Q's, in spite of all your Greek and Latin.You may make your bow, about ten miles off; but not to speak, untilspoken to. That's right, flourish your hair up. But you needn't runtwenty miles an hour."
On the gravel walk bordered by hollyhocks--now a row of gaunt sceptreswithout any crowns--the kind Mrs. Gilham was leading her guest, who didnot require to be led at all, but was too well-bred to reject thefriendly hand. Christie was looking a little delicate, and not quite upto the mark of her usual high spirits; but the man must have been veryhard to please, who could find much fault on that score.
"Oh what a beautiful view you have!" she exclaimed, as the sun brokethrough the mist, spreading Perle valley with a veil of purest pearl. "Ihad no idea it was such a lovely place. And the house, and the garden,and the glen that slopes away. Why that must be Perlycross tower in thedistance, and that tall white house the rectory. Why, there's the bridgewith seven lofty arches, and the light shining through them! More lightthan water, I should say. What on earth induced them to put such amighty bridge across such a petty river? I dare say they knew best--butjust look at the meadows, almost as green as they would be in May! Nowonder you get such lovely butter. And the trees down the valley, justin the right places to make the most of themselves, and theirneighbourhood. Why half of them have got their leaves on still, herenearly at the end of November--and such leaves too, gold, red, andamber, straw-colour, cinnamon, and russet!"
"And if you come up to that bench, my dear," replied Mrs. Gilham, asproud as Punch, at the praises of her native vale, "that bench at thetop of our little orchard--my poor dear husband had such taste, he couldfind the proper place for everything--gravel-walk all the way, andnothing but a little spring to cross; why, there you can hear thekey-bugle of the _Defiance_! Punctual every day at half-past ten. Wealways set our kitchen clock by it. The Guard, as soon as he sees ourmiddle chimney, strikes up as loud as ever he can blow, 'Oh theroast-beef of Old England,' or 'To glory we steer,' for the horses to beready. So some people say; but I happen to know, that it is doneentirely to please us. Because we sent cider out every day, when thathot week was, last summer."
"What a grateful man! Oh I must go and hear him. I do think there'snothing like gratitude. By the by, I am not acting up to that. I havenever even seen your son, to thank him."
"Oh Miss Fox, it is not fair to him, for any young lady to try to dothat. He has no opinion of anything he does; and the last time he saveda young lady's life, he ran away, because--because it wouldn't do tostay. You see, she had been at the very point of drowning, and thepeople on the bank declared that she came up three times. My son Franknever pulled his coat off--he would have despised himself, if he hadstopped to do it--he jumped in, they said it was forty feet high, butthere is no bank on the river (except the cliff the church stands on)much over five and twenty. However, in he went, and saved her; andeverybody said that she was worth L10,000, but carried away by thecurrent. And from that day to this, we heard nothing more about it; andmy son, who has a very beautiful complexion, blushes--oh he blushes so,if he only hears of it!"
"Oh, he is too good, Mrs. Gilham! It is a very great mistake, with theworld becoming all so selfish. But I am not the young lady that wentwith the current. I go against the current, whenever I find any. Andyour son has had the courage to do the same, in the question of my dearbrother. I say what I mean, you must understand, Mrs. Gilham. I am notat all fond of shilly-shally."
"Neither is my son, Miss Fox. Only he thinks so very little of himself.Why there he is! Hard at work as usual. Don't say a syllable of thanks,my dear; if he comes up to pull his hat off. He can stand a cannon-ball;but not to be made much of."
"Won't I though say 'thank you' to him? I am bound to consider myself,and not only his peculiar tendencies. Mr. Frank Gilham, do please tocome here, if--I mean supposing you can spare just half-a-minute."
Frank had a fair
supply of hard, as well as soft, in his composition. Hewas five and twenty years old, or close upon it, and able to get a dogout of a trap, in the deepest of his own condition. He quitted hisspade--which he had found, by the by, left out all night, though thesame is high treason--as if he could scarcely get away from it, andcould see nothing so fine as a fat spit of sod. And he kept his eyesfull upon Christie's, as if he had seen her before, but was wonderingwhere.
This was the proper thing to do. Though he knew himself to be in nosmall fright, throughout all this bravery. But there is no monopoly ofhumbug; though we all do our utmost to establish one.
"Miss Fox, I believe you have seen my son before." The old lady took tothe spirit of the moment, with the quickness, in which ladies alwaystake the front. "And my son Frank has had the honour of seeing you."
"And feeling me too--pretty sharp against his chest"--Christie thoughtwithin herself, but she only said--"Yes; and it was a happy thing forme."
"Not at all, Miss Fox--a mere casual accident, as the people about hereexpress it. I explained to you, that Frank cannot help himself. Be kindenough not to speak of it."
"That won't do," replied Christie, looking stedfast. "It may do for him,but not for me. Allow me one moment, Mrs. Gilham."
Without more ado, she ran up to Frank Gilham, who was turning awayagain towards his work, and gave him both hands, and looked full at him,with the glitter of tears in her deep blue eyes.
"My senses have not quite forsaken me," she said: "and I know whom Ihave to thank for that: and in all probability for my life as well. Itis useless to talk about thanking you, because it is impossible to doit. And even before that I was deeply in your debt, for the very nobleway in which you took my brother's part, when everybody else was againsthim. It was so brave and generous of you."
It was more than she could do, with all her spirit, to prevent two largeand liberal tears from obeying the laws of nature; in fact they were notfar from obtaining the downright encouragement of a sob, when shethought of her poor brother.
"Well, you are a sweet simple dear!" exclaimed the fine old lady,following suit in the feminine line, and feeling for herpocket-handkerchief. "Frankie should be proud to his dying day, of doingany trifle for such a precious dear. Why don't you say so, Frankie, myson?"
"Simply because my mother has said it so much better for me." He turnedaway his eyes, in fear of looking thus at Christie, lest they shouldtell her there was no one else in the world henceforth for them to see.
"Here comes the _Defiance_! Hurrah, hurrah!" shouted Rose, rushing in,for once just at the right moment. "I can hear the horses' hoofsspringing up the rise. If you want to know anything about roast beef,you must put on a spurt up the periwinkle walk. Here goes number one.Slow coaches come behind."
"I am not a slow coach. At least I never used to be," cried Christie,setting off in chase.
"Miss Fox, Miss Fox, don't attempt to cross the brook, without my son'shand," Mrs. Gilham called after them; for she could not live the pace."Oh Rose is wrong as usual--it's 'To glory we steer,' this time."
The obliging guard gave it three times over, as if he had this team alsoin full view; then he gave the "Roast beef," as the substance of theglory; and really it was finer than a locomotive screech.
Presently Rose heard the cackle of a pullet which had laid, and off sheran to make sure of the result, because there was an old cock sadlyaddicted to the part that is least golden in the policy of Saturn. Sothe three who remained sat upon the bench and talked, with the ciderapples piled in pink and yellow cones before them, and the mossybranches sparkling (like a weeping smile) above, and the sun glancingshyly, under eaves and along hedgerows, like the man denied theprivilege of looking at the horse. By this light however Frank Gilhamcontrived to get many a peep round his mother's bonnet--which being ofthe latest fashion was bigger than a well-kept hedgerow--at a verylovely object on the other side thereof, which had no fear as yet ofbeing stolen.
Miss Fox had fully made up her mind, that (happen what might) she wouldnot say a single word, to sadden her good hostess with the trouble herbrother had fallen into, or the difficulties now surrounding him. Butladies are allowed to unmake their minds, especially if it enlargesthem; and finding in the recesses of that long bonnet a most sympatheticpair of ears, all the softer for being "rather hard of hearing," andenriched with wise echoes of threescore years, she also discovered howwrong and unkind it would be, to withhold any heart-matter from them.
"And one of the most dreadful things of all," Christie concluded with along-drawn sigh, "is that my dear father, who has only this son Jemmy,is now in such a very sad state of health, that if he heard of this itwould most likely take him from us. Or if he got over it, one thing iscertain, he would never even look at my brother again. Not that he wouldbelieve such a wicked thing of him; but because he would declare that hebrought it on himself, by going (against his father's wishes) into thismedical business. My father detests it; I scarcely know why, but haveheard that he has good reason. We must keep this from him, whatever itcosts us; even if it keeps poor Jemmy under this cloud for months tocome. Luckily father cannot read now very well, and his doctor hasordered him not to read at all; and mother never looks at a newspaper:and the place being five and thirty miles away, and in another county,there is no great risk, unless some spiteful friend should rush in, tocondole with him. That is what I dread to hear of sometimes; though goodDr. Freeborn, who attends him, will prevent any chance of it, ifpossible. But you see, Mrs. Gilham, how it cripples us. We cannot moveboldly and freely, as we ought, and make the thing the topic of thecounty; as we should by an action of libel for instance, or any strongmode of vindication. I assure you, sometimes I am ready to go wild, andfly out, and do anything. And then I recollect poor father."
"It is a cruel cruel thing, my dear. I never heard of anythingresembling it before. That's the very thing that Frank says. From thevery first he saw what a shameful thing it was to speak so of Dr. Fox. Ibelieve he has knocked down a big man or two; though I am sure I shouldbe the last to encourage him in that."
"Come, mother, come! Miss Fox, you must not listen to a quarter of whatmother says about me. I dare say, you have found that out, long ago."
"If so, it is only natural, and you deserve it;" this Hibernian verdictwas delivered with a smile too bright to be eclipsed by a score ofhedgerow bonnets; "but there is one thing I should like to ask Mr. FrankGilham, with his mother's leave; and it is this--how was it that you Mr.Frank, almost alone of all the parish of Perlycross, and without knowingmuch of my brother at the time, were so certain of his innocence?"
"Because I had looked in his face;" replied Frank, looking likewise intothe sister's face, with a gaze of equal certainty.
"That is very noble," Christie said, with a little toss meaningsomething. "But most people want more to go upon than that."