CHAPTER XXXII.
PLEADINGS.
"But it will devour me the more. My mother cannot love me;" the poorgirl was obliged to think, as she sat in her lonely room again. "She haslaid this heavy burden on me; and I am to share it with no one. Does shesuppose that I feel nothing, and am wholly absorbed in love-proceedings,forgetting all duty to my father? Sometimes I doubt almost whether JemmyFox is worthy of my affection. I am not very precious. I know that--thelesson is often impressed upon me--but I know that I am simple, andloving, and true; and he takes me too much for granted. If he werenoble, and could love with all his heart, would he be so hard upon hissister, for liking a man, who is her equal in everything but money? Thenext time I see him, I will try him about that. If a man is noble, as Iunderstand the word, he will be noble for others, as well as forhimself. Uncle Penniloe is the only real nobleman I know; because to himothers are equal to himself."
This was only a passing mood, and not practical enough to be permanent.However it was the prevailing one, when in came Jemmy Fox himself. Thatyoung doctor plumed himself upon his deep knowledge of the fairer sex;and yet like the rest of mankind who do so, he showed little of thatknowledge in his dealings with them.
In the midst of so many doubts and fears, and with a miserable sense ofloneliness, Miss Waldron was in "a high-strung condition"--as ladiesthemselves describe it--though as gentle and affectionate as ever. Shewas gazing at little pet _Pixie_, and wondering in her self-abasement,whether there is any human love so deep, devoted, and everlasting (whilehis little life endures) as that of an ordinary dog. _Pixie_, thepug-dog, sitting at her feet was absorbed in wistful watching, too surethat his mistress was plunged in trouble, beyond the reach of his poormind, but not perhaps beyond the humble solace of such a yearning heart.
In this interchange of tender feelings, a still more tender vein wastouched. "Squeak!" went _Pixie_, with a jump, and then a long eloquenceof yelp and howl proved that he partook too deeply of the woe he hadprayed to share. A heavy riding-boot had crushed his short butsympathetic tail--the tail he was so fond of chasing as a joyful vision,but now too mournfully and materially his own!
Dr. Fox, with a cheerful smile, as if he had done something meritorious,gazed into Nicie's sparkling eyes. Perhaps he expected a lovely kiss,after his long absence.
"Why, you don't seem to care a bit for what you have done!" cried theyoung girl, almost repelling him. "Allow me to go to my wounded littledear. Oh you poor little persecuted pet, what did they do to you? Washis lovely taily broken? Oh the precious little martyr, that he shouldhave come to this! Did a monstrous elephant come, and crush his darlinglife out? Give his Missy a pretty kiss, with the great tears rolling onhis cheek."
"Well, I wish you'd make half as much fuss about me;" said Fox, with allthe self-command that could well be expected. "You haven't even asked mehow I am!"
"Oh, I beg your pardon then;" she answered, looking up at him, with thelittle dog's nose cuddled into her neck, and his short sobs puffing upthe golden undergrowth of her darkly-clustering hair. "Yes, to be sure,I should have asked that. It was very forgetful of me. But his poor tailseems to be a little easier now; and the vigour of your step shows howwell you have come back to us."
"Well, more than welcome, I am afraid. I can always make allowance forthe humours of young ladies; and I know how good and sweet you are. ButI think you might have been glad to see me."
"Not when you tread upon my dear dog's tail, and laugh in my faceafterwards, instead of being very sorry. I should have begged pardon, ifI had been so clumsy as to tread upon a dog of yours."
"Dogs are all very well, in their way; but they have no right to getinto our way. This poor little puggie's tail is all right now. Shakehands, Puggie. Why, look! He has forgiven me."
"That shows how wonderfully kind he is, and how little he deserves to betrodden on. But I will not say another word about that; only you mighthave been sorrier. Their consciences are so much better than ours. He islicking your hand, as if he had done the wrong. Your sister agreed withme about their nobility. How is darling Christie?"
"Everybody is a darling, except me to-day! Christie is well enough. Shealways is; except when she goes a cropper out of a trap, and knocksyoung men's waistcoat-buttons off."
"How coarsely you put it, when you ought to be most thankful to thegentleman who rescued her, when you left her at the mercy of a half-wildhorse!"
"I don't know what to make of you to-day, Miss Waldron. Have I doneanything to offend you? You are too just and sensible, and--gentle, Ishould like to say--not to know that you have put an entirely wrongconstruction upon that little accident with Farrant's old screw. It wasChristie's own fault, every bit of it. She thought herself a grand whip,and she came to grief; as girls generally do, when they are bumptious."
"You seem to have a great contempt for girls, Dr. Fox. What have thepoor things done to offend you so?"
"Somebody must have been speaking against me. I'd give a trifle to knowwho it is. I have always been accustomed to reasonable treatment."
"There now, his dear little tail is better! Little _Pixie_ loves me so.Little _Pixie_ never tells somebody that she is an unreasonablecreature. Little _Pixie_ is too polite for that."
"Well, I think I had better be off for the day. I have heard of peoplegetting out of bed the wrong side; and you can't make it right all theday, when that has happened. Miss Waldron, I must not go away withoutsaying that my sister sends you her very best love. I was to be sure toremember that."
"Oh, thank you, Dr. Fox! Your sister is always so very sweet andconsiderate. And I hope she has also been allowed to send it where it isdue, a thousand times as much as here."
"Where can that be? At the rectory, I suppose. Yes, she has notforgotten Mr. Penniloe. She is not at all fickle in her likings."
"Now that is a very fine quality indeed, as well as a very rare one. Andanother she has, and will not be driven from it; and I own that I quiteagree with her. She does not look down upon other people, and think thatthey belong to another world, because they are not so well off in thisone as she is. A gentleman is a gentleman, in her judgment, and is notto be cast by, after many kind acts, merely because he is not made ofmoney."
"Ah, now I see what all this comes to!" exclaimed Fox, smilingpleasantly. "Well, I am quite open to a little reasoning there, becausethe whole thing is so ridiculous. Now put it to yourself; how would youlike to be a sort of son-in-law to good Mother Gilham's greencoal-scuttle? A coal-scuttle should make one grateful, you will say.Hear, hear! not at all a bad pun that; though quite involuntary."
"The bonnet may be behind the age, or in front of it, I know not which;"said Nicie, very resolute to show no smile; "but a better and sweeterold face never looked----"
"A better horse never looked out of a bridle. It is bridle, andblinkers, and saddle, all in one."
"It is quite useless trying to make me laugh." Her voice however beliedher; and _Pixie_ watching her face began to wag the wounded tail again."Your sister, who knows what bonnets are, to which you can have nopretension, is well acquainted with the sterling value----"
"Oh come, I am sure it would not fetch much now, though it may have costtwo guineas, or more, in the days before 'my son Frank' was born."
"Really, Jemmy, you are too bad, when I want to talk seriously."
"So long as I am 'Jemmy' once more, I don't care how bad I am."
"That was a slip. But you must listen to me. I will not be laughed offfrom saying what I think. Do you suppose that it is a joking matter forpoor Frank Gilham?"
"I don't care a copper for his state of mind, if Chris is not foolenough to share it. The stupid fellow came to me this morning, andinstead of trying to smoothe me down, what does he do but blow me upsky-high! You should have heard him. He never swore at all, but gaveutterance to the noblest sentiments--just because they were in hisfavour."
"Then I admire him for it. It was very manly of him. Why were all largeideas in his favour? Just because the small o
nes are on your side. Isuppose, you pretend to care for me?"
"No pretence about it. All too true. And this is what I get done to me?"
"But how would you like my brother to come and say--'I disapprove of Dr.Fox. I forbid you to say another word to him'? Would you recognize hisfraternal right in the matter, and go away quietly?"
"Hardly that. I should leave it to you. And if you held by me, I shouldsnap my fingers at him."
"Of course you would. And so would anybody else; Frank Gilham among thenumber. And your sister--is she to have no voice, because you are aroaring lion? Surely her parents, and not her brother, should bar theway, if it must be barred. Just think of yourself, and ask yourself howyour own law would fit you."
"The cases are very different, and you know it as well as I do. FrankGilham is quite a poor man; and, although he is not a bad kind offellow, his position in the world is not the same as ours."
"That may be so. But if Christie loves him, and is quite content withhis position in the world, and puts up with the coal-scuttle--as youcall it--and he is a good man and true, and a gentleman, are they bothto be miserable, to please you? And more than that--you don't knowChristie. If Frank Gilham shows proper courage, and is not afraid ofmean imputations, no one will ask your leave, I think."
"Well, I shall have done my best; and if I cannot stop it, let them ruethe day. Her father and mother would never allow it; and as I amresponsible for the whole affair, and cannot consult them, as things arenow, I am bound to act in their place, I think. But never mind that. Onemay argue for ever, and a girl in a moment can turn the tables on thecleverest man alive. Let us come back to our own affairs. I have somenews which ought to please you. By rare good luck I have hit upon thevery two men who were employed upon that awful business. I shall havethem soon, and then we shall know all about this most mysterious case.By George, it shall go hard indeed with the miscreant who plotted it."
"Oh don't--oh don't! What good can it be?" cried Nicie, trembling, andstammering. "It will kill my mother; I am sure it will. I implore younot to go on with it."
"What!" exclaimed Fox with amazement. "You to ask me, you his onlydaughter, to let it be so--to hush up the matter--to submit to thisatrocious wrong! And your father--it is the last thing I ever shouldhave thought to hear."
In shame and terror she could not speak, but quailed before hisindignant gaze, and turned away from him with a deep low sob.
"My darling, my innocent dear," he cried in alarm at her bitter anguish;"give me your hand; let me look at your face. I know that no power onearth would make you do a thing that you saw to be shameful. I beg yourpardon humbly, if I spoke too harshly. You know that I would not vexyou, Inez, and beyond any doubt you can explain this strange--thisinconceivable thing. You are sure to have some good reason for it."
"Yes, you would say so if you knew all. But not now--I dare not; it istoo dreadful. It is not for myself. If I had my own way--but what use? Idare not even tell you that. For the present, at least for the present,do nothing. If you care about me at all, I beg you not to do what wouldnever be forgiven. And my mother is in such a miserable state, sodelicate, so frail, and helpless! Do for my sake, do show this once,that you have some affection for me."
Nicie put her soft hand on his shoulder, and pleaded her cause with nomore words, but a gaze of such tenderness and sweet faith, that he couldnot resist it. Especially as he saw his way to reassure her, withoutdeparting from the plan he had resolved upon.
"I will do anything, my pretty dove," he said with a noble surrender;"to relieve your precious and trustful heart. I will even do this, if itsatisfies you--I will take no steps for another month, an entire monthfrom this present time. I cannot promise more than that, now can I, forany bewitchment? And in return, you must pledge yourself to give yourmother not even a hint of what I have just told you. It would only makeher anxious, which would be very bad for her health, poor thing; and shehas not the faith in me, that you have. She must not even dream that Ihave heard of those two villains."
This was a bright afterthought of his; for if Lady Waldron should knowof his discovery, she might contrive to inform them, that he had his eyeupon them.
"Oh, how good you are!" cried Nicie. "I can never thank you enough, dearJemmy; and it must appear so cruel of me, to ask you to forego so longthe chance of shaming those low people, who have dared to belie you so."
"What is a month, compared to you?" Jemmy asked, with real greatness."But if you feel any obligation, you know how to reward me, dear."
Nicie looked at him, with critical eyes; and then as if reckless ofanything small, flung both arms round his neck, and kissed him.
"Oh it is so kind, so kind of him!" she declared to herself, to excuseherself; while he thought it was very kind of her. And she, being timidof her own affection, loved him all the more for not encroaching on it.
Jemmy rode away in a happy frame of mind. He loved that beautifulmaiden, and he was assured of her love for him. He knew that she was farabove him, in the gifts of nature, and the bloom that beautifiesthem--the bloom that is not of the cheeks alone, but of the gentle dewof kindness, and the pearl of innocence. Fox felt a little ashamed ofhimself, for a trifle of sharp practice; but his reason soon persuadedhim, that his conscience was too ticklish. And that is a thing to bestopped at once.
While jogging along in this condition, on the road towards Pumpington,he fell in with another horseman less inclined to cheerfulness. This wasFarmer Stephen Horner, a younger brother of Farmer John, a lesssubstantial, and therefore perhaps more captious agriculturist. He wasriding a very clever cob, and looked both clever and smart himself, inhis bottle-green cutaway coat, red waistcoat, white cord breeches andhard brown hat. Striking into the turnpike road from a grass-trackskirting the Beacon Hill, he hailed the Doctor, and rode beside him.
"Heard the news, have 'e?" asked Farmer Steve, as his fat calves creakedagainst the saddle-flaps within a few inches of Jemmy's, and theirhorses kept step, like a dealer's pair. "But there--come to think of it,I be a fool for asking, and you always along of Passon so?"
"Only came home yesterday. Haven't seen him yet," the Doctor answeredbriskly. "Haven't heard anything particular. Nothing the matter withhim, I hope?"
"Not him, sir, so much as what he've taken up. Hath made up his mind, sopeople say, to abolish our old Fair to Perlycross." Farmer Steve watchedthe Doctor's face. He held his own opinion, but he liked to know theother's first. Moreover he owed him a little bill.
"But surely he cannot do that;" said Fox, who cared not a jot about thefair, but thought of his own concern with it. "Why, it was granted bycharter, I believe, hundreds of years ago; when Perlycross was a muchlarger place, and the main road to London passed through it, as thepack-saddle teams do still sometimes."
"So it were, sir, so it were. Many's the time when I were a boy, I haveread of Magner Charter, and the time as they starved the King in theisland, afore the old yew-tree come on our old tower. But my brotherJohn, he reckoneth as he knoweth everything; and he saith ourmarket-place belongeth to the Dean and Chapter, and Fair was granted toChurch, he saith, and so Church can abolish it. But I can't see no sensein that. Why, it be outside of Church railings altogether. Now you area learned man, Doctor Fox. And if you'll give me your opinion, I canpromise 'e, it shan't go no further."
"The plain truth is," replied Jemmy, knowing well that if his opinionwent against the Parson, it would be all over the parish by supper-time,"I have never gone into the subject, and I know nothing whatever aboutit. But we all know the Fair has come down to nothing now. There has notbeen a beast there for the last three years, and nothing but a score ofpigs, and one pen of sheep last year. It has come to be nothing but apleasure-fair, with a little show of wrestling, and some singlestickplay, followed by a big bout of drinking. Still I should have thoughtthere would be at least a twelvemonth's notice, and a publicproclamation."
"So say I, sir; and the very same words I used to my brother John, lastnight. John Horner is getting
a'most too big, with his Churchwarden, andhis hundred pounds, he had better a' kept for his family. Let 'un findout who have robbed his own Churchyard, afore 'a singeth out again' apoor man's glass of ale. I don't hold with John in all things; though a'hath key pianner for's dafters, and addeth field to field, same as richman in the Bible laid up treasure for his soul this night. I tell youwhat, Doctor, and you may tell John Horner--I likes old things, forbeing old; though there may be more bad than good in them. What harm, ifa few chaps do get drunk, and the quarrelsome folks has their headscracked? They'd only go and do it somewhere else, if they was stopped ofour place. Passon be a good man as ever lived, and wonnerful kind to thepoor folk. But a' beginneth to have his way too much; and all along ofmy brother John. To tell you the truth, Doctor, I couldn't bear the jobabout that old tombstone, to memory of Squire Jan Toms, and a fine pieceof poetry it were too. Leap-frogged it, hundreds and hundreds of times,when I were a boy, I have; and so has my father and grandfather aforeme; and why not my sons, and my grandsons too, when perhaps my ownstandeth 'longside of 'un? I won't believe a word of it, but what thicold ancient stone were smashed up a' purpose, by order of PassonPenniloe. Tell 'e what, Doctor, thic there channging of every mortialthing, just for the sake of channging, bain't the right way for to fetchfolks to church; 'cordin' at least to my mind. Why do us go to church?Why, because can't help it; 'long of wives and children, when theycomes, and lookin' out for 'un, when the children was ourselves. Turnthe bottom up, sir, and what be that but custom, same as one generationrequireth from another? And to put new patches on it, and be proud ofthem, is the same thing as tinker did to wife's ham-boiler--drawed therivets out, and made 'un leak worse than ever. Not another shilling willthey patchers get from me."
Farmer Steve sat down in his saddle, and his red waistcoat settled downupon the pommel. His sturdy cob also laid down his ears, and stubbornBritish sentiment was in every line of both of them.
"Well, I won't pretend to say about the other matters;" said Fox, who asan Englishman could allow for obstinacy. "But, Farmer, I am sure thatyou are wrong about the tombstone. Parson did not like it, and nowonder. But he is not the man to do things crookedly. He would havemoved it openly, or not at all. It was quite as much an accident, as ifyour horse put his foot upon a nut and cracked it."
"Well, sir, well, sir, we has our own opinions. Oh, you have paid thepike for me! Thank 'e, Doctor. I'll pay yours, next time we come thisway together."
The story of the tombstone war simply this. John Toms, a rollickingCavalier of ancient Devonshire lineage, had lived and died atPerlycross, nearly two centuries agone. His grave was towards the greatsouthern porch, and there stood his headstone large and bold,confronting the faithful at a corner where two causeways met. Thus everyworshipper, who entered the House of Prayer by its main approach, wasinvited to reflect upon the fine qualities of this gentleman, asrecorded in large letters. To a devout mind this might do no harm; butall Perlycross was not devout, and many a light thought was suggested,or perhaps an untimely smile produced, by this too sprightly memorial."A spirited epitaph that, sir," was the frequent remark of visitors."But scarcely conceived in a proper spirit," was the Parson's generalreply.
The hideous western gallery, the parish revel called the Fair, and thisunseemly tombstone, had been sore tribulations to the placed mind ofPenniloe; and yet he durst not touch that stone, sacred not to memoryonly, but to vested rights, and living vein of local sentiment. Howeverthe fates were merciful.
"Very sad accident this morning, sir. I do hope you will try to forgiveus, Mr. Penniloe," said Robson Adney, the manager of the works, one fineOctober morning, and he said it with a stealthy wink; "seven of ourchaps have let our biggest scaffold-pole, that red one, with a butt asbig as a milestone, roll off their clumsy shoulders, and it has smashedpoor Squire Toms' old tombstone into a thousand pieces. Never read aword of it again, sir--such a sad loss to the churchyard! But quite anaccident, sir, you know; purely a casual accident."
The Curate looked at him, but he "smiled none"--as another tombstonestill expresses it; and if charity compelled Mr. Penniloe to believehim, gratitude enforced another view; for Adney well knew his dislike ofthat stone, and was always so eager to please him.
But that every one who so desires may judge for himself, whether FarmerSteve was right, or Parson Penniloe, here are the well-remembered linesthat formed the preface to Divine worship in the parish of Perlycross.
"'Halloa! who lieth here?' 'I, old Squire Jan Toms.' 'What dost lack?' 'A tun of beer, For a tipple with them fantoms.'"