CHAPTER XXXIV.
LOYALTY.
"I do not consider myself at all an inquisitive man," Mr. Penniloereflected, and here the truth was with him; "nevertheless it is hardupon me to be refused almost the right to speculate upon this question.They have told me that it is of the last importance, to secure thisgreat disciplinarian--never appreciated while with us, but now deploredso deeply--for a special service in the south of Spain. What thatspecial service is, I am not to know, until his return; possibly noteven then. And Mr. Webber has no idea what the meaning of it is. But Iknow that it has much to do--all to do, I might even say--with thatfrightful outrage of last November--three months ago, alas, alas, and asad disgrace upon this parish still! Marvellous are the visitations ofthe Lord. Practically speaking, we know but little more of that affairnow, than on the day it was discovered. If it were not for one thing, Ishould even be driven at last to Gowler's black conclusion; and my faithin the true love of a woman, and in the honesty of a proud brave womanwould be shattered, and leave me miserable. But now it is evident thatgood and gentle Nicie is acting entirely with her mother; and to imaginethat she would wrong her father is impossible. Perhaps I shall even getfriend Gowler's hundred pounds. What a triumph that would be! To obtaina large sum for the Service of God from an avowed--ah well, who am I tothink harshly of him? But the money might even be blest to himself;which is the first thing to consider. It is my duty to accept ittherefore, if I can only get it.
"And here again is Jemmy Fox, not behaving at all as he used to do.Concealing something from me--I am almost sure of it by his manner--anddiscussing it, I do believe, with Gronow--an intimacy that cannot begood for him. I wish I could perceive more clearly, in what points Ihave neglected my duty to the parish; for I seem to be losing hold uponit, which must be entirely my own fault. There must be some want ofjudgment somewhere--what else could lead to such very sad fighting? EvenZip, a little girl, disgracing us by fighting in the streets! That atany rate I can stop, and will do so pretty speedily."
This was a lucky thought for him, because it led to action, instead ofbrooding, into which miserable condition he might otherwise havedropped. And when a man too keen of conscience hauls himself across thecoals, the Governor of a hot place takes advantage to peep up betweenthem. Mr. Penniloe rang the bell, and begged Mrs. Muggridge to be goodenough to send Miss Zippy to him.
Zip, who had grown at least two inches since the death of hergrandmother--not in length perhaps so much as in the height she made ofit--came shyly into the dusky bookroom, with one of her long handscrumpling the lower corner of her pinafore into her great brown eyes.She knew she was going to catch it, and knew also the way to meet it,for she opened the conversation with a long-drawn sob.
"Don't be frightened, my dear child;" said the Parson with the worst ofhis intention waning. "I am not going to scold you much, my dear."
"Oh, I was so terrible afraid, you was." The little girl crept up closeto him, and began to play with his buttonhole, curving her lissomefingers in and out, like rosebuds in a trellis, and looking down at theteardrops on her pinny. "Plaise sir, I knows well enough as I desarves abit of it."
"Then why did you do it, my dear child? But I am glad that you feel itto be wrong."
The clergyman was sitting in the deep square chair, where most of hissermons came to him, and he brought his calm face down a little, tocatch the expression of the young thing's eyes. Suddenly she threwherself into his arms, and kissed his lips, and cheeks, and forehead,and stroked his silvery hair, and burst into a passionate wail; and thenslid down upon a footstool, and nursed his foot.
"Do 'e know why I done that?" she whispered, looking up over his kneesat him. "Because there be nobody like 'e, in the heavens, or the earth,or the waters under the earth. Her may be as jealous as ever herplaiseth; but I tell 'e, I don't care a cuss."
"My dear little impetuous creature," Mr. Penniloe knew that his darlingFay was the one defied thus recklessly; "I am sure that you are fond ofall of us. And to please me, as well as for much higher reasons, youmust never use bad words. Bad deeds too I have heard of, Zip, though Iam not going to scold much now. But why did you get into conflict with aboy?"
Zip pondered the meaning of these words for a moment, and then herconscience interpreted.
"Because he spoke bad of 'e, about the Fair." She crooked her quickfingers together as she spoke, and tore them asunder with vehemence.
"And what did you do to him? Eh Zip? Oh Zip!"
"Nort, for to sarve 'un out, as a' desarved. Only pulled most of 's hairout. His moother hurned arter me; but I got inside the ge-at."
"A nice use indeed for my premises--to make them a refuge, aftercommitting assault and battery! Well, what shall we come to next?"
"Plaise sir, I want to tell 'e zummut;" said the child, looking up veryearnestly. "Bain't it Perlycrass Fair, come Tuesday next?"
"I am sorry to say that it is. A day of sad noise and uproar. Rememberthat little Zip must not go outside the gates, that day."
"Nor Passon nayther;" the child took hold of his hand, as if she werepulling him inside the gate, for her nature was full of gestures; andthen she gazed at him with a sage smile of triumph--"and Passon mustn'tgo nayther."
Mr. Penniloe took little heed of this (though he had to think of itafterwards) but sent the child to have her tea, with Muggridge and thechildren.
But before he could set to his work in earnest, although he haddiscovered much to do, in came his own child, little Fay, looking roundthe room indignantly. With her ladylike style, she was much too grand toadmit a suspicion of jealousy, but she smoothed her golden hair gentlyback, and just condescended to glance round the chairs. Mr. Penniloesaid nothing, and feigned to see nothing, though getting a little afraidin his heart; for he always looked on Fay as representing her dearmother. He knew that the true way to learn a child's sentiments, is tolet them come out of their own accord. There is nothing more jealousthan a child, except a dog.
"Oh, I thought Darkie was here again!" said Fay, throwing back hershoulders, and spinning on one leg. "This room belongs to Darkie nowaltogether. Though I can't see what right she has to it."
Mr. Penniloe treated this soliloquy, as if he had not heard it; and wenton with his work, as if he had no time to attend to children's affairsjust now.
"It may be right, or it may be wrong," said Fay, addressing the room ingeneral, and using a phrase she had caught up from Pike, a very greatfavourite of hers; "but I can't see why all the people of this houseshould have to make way for a Gipsy."
This was a little too much for a father and clergyman to put up with."Fay!" said Mr. Penniloe in a voice that made her tremble; and she cameand stood before him, contrite and sobbing, with her head down, and bothhands behind her back. Without raising her eyes the fair child listened,while her father spoke impressively; and then with a reckless look, shetendered full confession.
"Father, I know that I am very wicked, and I seem to get worse everyday. I wish I was the Devil altogether; because then I could not get anyworse."
"My little child," said her father with amazement; "I can scarcelybelieve my ears. My gentle little Fay to use such words!"
"Oh, _she_ thinks nothing of saying that! And you know how fond you areof her, papa. I thought it might make you fond of me."
"This must be seen to at once," thought Mr. Penniloe, when he had senthis jealous little pet away; "but what can I do with that poor desertedchild? Passionate, loving, very strong-willed, grateful, fearless,sensitive, inclined to be contemptuous, wonderfully quick at learning,she has all the elements of a very noble woman--or of a very pitiablewreck. Quite unfit to be with my children, as my better judgmentpronounced at first. She ought to be under a religious, large-minded,firm, but gentle woman--a lady too, or she would laugh at her. Thoughshe speaks broad Devonshire dialect herself, she detects in a moment themistakes of others, and she has a lofty contempt for vulgarity. She isthrown by the will of God upon my hands, and I should be a coward, or aheartless wret
ch, if I shirked the responsibility. It will almost breakher heart to go from me; but go she must for her own sake, as well asthat of my little ones."
"How are you, sir?" cried a cheerful voice. "I fear that I interruptyou. But I knocked three or four times, and got no answer. Excuse mycoming in like this. Can I have a little talk with you?"
"Certainly, Dr. Fox. I beg your pardon; but my mind was running upondifficult questions. Let us have the candles, and then I am at yourservice."
"Now," said Jemmy when they were alone again; "I dare say you think thatI have behaved very badly, in keeping out of your way so long."
"Not badly, but strangely;" replied the Parson, who never departed fromthe truth, even for the sake of politeness. "I concluded that there mustbe some reason; knowing that I had done nothing to cause it."
"I should rather think not. Nothing ever changes you. But it was foryour sake. And now I will enlighten you, as the time is so close athand. It appears that you have not succeeded in abolishing the Fair."
"Not for this year. There were various formalities. But this will bethe last of those revels, I believe. The proclamation will be read onTuesday morning. After this year, I hope, no more carousals prolongedfar into the Penitential day. It will take them by surprise; but it isbetter so. Otherwise there would have been preparations for a revel morereckless, as being the last."
"I suppose you know, sir, what bitter offence you are giving to hundredsof people all around?"
"I am sorry that it should be so. But it is my simple duty."
"Nothing ever stops you from your duty. But I hope you will do your dutyto yourself and us, by remaining upon your own premises that day."
"Certainly not. If I did such a thing, I should seem to be frightened ofmy own act. Please God, I shall be in the market-place, to hear theproclamation read, and attend to my parish-work afterwards."
"I know that it is useless to argue with you, sir. None of our peoplewould dare to insult you; but one cannot be sure of outsiders. At anyrate, do keep near the village, where there are plenty to defend you."
"No one will touch me. I am not a hero; and I can't afford to get my newhat damaged. I shall remain among the civilized, unless I am calledaway."
"Well, that is something; though not all that I could wish. And now Iwill tell you why I am glad, much as I dislike the Fair, that for thisyear at least it is to be. It is a most important date to me, and I hopeit will bring you some satisfaction also. Unless we manage very badlyindeed, or have desperately bad luck, we shall get hold of the villainswho profaned your churchyard, and through them of course find theinstigator."
With this preface, Fox told his tale to Mr. Penniloe, and quitesatisfied him about the reasons for concealing it so long, as well asmade him see that it would not do to preach upon the subject yet.
"My dear young friend, no levity, if you please;" said the Parson,though himself a little, a very little, prone to it on the sly, amongpeople too solid to stumble. "I draw my lessons from the past, orpresent. Better men than myself insist upon the terrors of the future,and scare people from looking forward. But our Church, according to myviews, is a cheerful and progressive mother, encouraging her children,and fortifying----"
"Quite so;" said Jemmy Fox, anticipating too much on that head; "but shewould not fortify us with such a Lenten _fare_ as this. Little pun, sir,not so very bad. However, to business. I meant to have told you nothingof this till Monday or Tuesday, until it struck me that you would behurt perhaps, if the notice were so very short. The great point is thatnot a word of our intentions should get abroad, or the rogues might makethemselves more scarce than rogues unluckily are allowed to be. This iswhy we have put off our application to Mockham, until Tuesday morning;and even then we shall lay our information as privately as possible. Butwe must have a powerful posse, when we proceed to arrest them; for oneof the men, as I told you, is of tremendous bulk and stature, and theother not a weakling. And perhaps the third, the fellow they come tomeet, will show fight on their behalf. We must allow no chance ofescape, and possibly they may have fire-arms. We shall want at leastfour constables, as well as Gronow, and myself."
"But all good subjects of the King are bound to assist, if called uponin the name of His Majesty, at the execution of a warrant."
"So they are; but they never do it, even when there is no danger. In thepresent case, they would boldly run away. And more than that, by teno'clock on Fair-night, how will His Majesty's true lieges be? Unable tokeep their own legs, I fear. The trouble will be to keep our own forcesober. But Gronow has undertaken to see to that. If he can do it, weshall be all right. We may fairly presume that the enemy also will notbe too steady upon their pins. The only thing I don't like is that a manof Gronow's age should be in the scuffle. He has promised to keep in thebackground; but if things get lively, can I trust him?"
"I should think it very doubtful. He looks an uncommonly resolute man.If there is a conflict, he will be in it. But do you think that the bigman Harvey really is our Zippy's father? If so, I am puzzled by whathis mother said; and I think the old lady was truthful. So far as Icould understand what she said, her son had never been engaged in any ofthe shocking work we hear so much of now. And she would not have deniedit from any sense of shame, for she confessed to even worse things, onthe part of other sons."
"She may not have known it. He has so rarely been at home. A man of thatsize would have been notorious throughout the parish, if he had everlived at home; whereas nobody knows him, not even Joe Crang, who knowsevery man and horse for miles around. But the Whetstone people are atribe apart, and keep all their desolate region to themselves."
"The district is extra-parochial, a sort of No-man's land almost," Mr.Penniloe answered thoughtfully. "An entire parish intervenes betweentheir hill and Hagdon; so that I cannot go among them, without seemingto intrude upon a neighbour's duties. Otherwise it is very sad to thinkthat a colony almost of heathens should be permitted in the midst of us.I hear that there is a new landowner now, coming from your father's partof the country, who claims seigniorial rights over them, which theyintend to resist with all their might."
"To be sure. Sir Henry Haggerstone is the man, a great friend of mine,and possibly something nearer before long. He cares not a pin for themoney; but he is not the man to forego his rights, especially when theyare challenged. I take a great interest in those people. Sir Henrypromised me an introduction, through his steward, or whoever it is; andbut for this business I should have gone over. But as these two fellowshave been among them, I thought it wiser to keep away. I intend to knowmore of them, when this is over. I rather like fellows who refuse topay."
"You have plenty of experience of them, doctor, without going over tothe Whetstone. Would that we had a few gratuitous Church-builders, aswell as a gratuitous doctor in this parish! But I sadly fear that yourservices will be too much in demand after this arrest. You should haveat least six constables, if our people will not help you. Supposingthat the Whetstone men are there, would they not attempt a rescue?"
"No sir; they will not be there; it is not their custom. I am ashamed,as it is, to take four men against two, and would not, except for thegreat importance of it. But I am keeping you too long. I shall make apoint of beholding you no more, until Wednesday morning; except ofcourse in church on Sunday. You must be kept out of it altogether. It isnot for me to tell you what to do; but I trust that you will not add toour anxieties, by appearing at all in the matter. Your busiest time ofthe year is at hand; and I scarcely know whether I have done right, inworrying you at all about this affair."
"Truly the time is appointed now for conflict with the unseen powers,rather than those of our own race. But why are we told to gird ourloins--of which succincture the Spencer is expressive, and thereforecurtly clerical--unless we are also to withstand evil-doers, even in themarket-place? Peace is a thing that we all desire; but no man must beselfish of it. If every man stuck to his own corner only, would thereever be a dining-table? Be not surprised then, Master Je
mmy Fox, if Ishould appear upon the warlike scene. As the Statesmen of the agesay--when they don't know what to say--I reserve my right of action."
Fox was compelled to be satisfied with this because he could get nobetter. Yet he found it hard to be comfortable about the now urgentoutlook. Beyond any doubt, he must go through with the matter in hand,and fight it well out. But where would he be, if the battle left him,with two noble heroes disabled, and both of them beyond the heroic timeof life. As concerned himself, he was quite up for the fight, andregarded the prospect with pleasure, as behoves a young man, whorequires a little change, and has a lady-love who will rejoice in hisfeats. Moreover he knew that he was very quick of foot, and full ofnimble dodges; but these elderly men could not so skip away, even iftheir dignity allowed it. After much grim meditation, when he left therectory, he made up his mind to go straight to Squire Mockham; andalthough it was a doubtful play of cards, to consult thus informallythe Justice, before whom the information was soon to be laid, it seemedto him, on the whole, to be the proper course. On Tuesday it would betoo late to receive any advice upon the subject.
But Mr. Mockham made no bones of it. Whether he would grant the warrantor not, was quite another question, and must depend upon the formaldepositions when received. The advice that he gave was contingent onlyupon the issue of the warrant, as to which he could say nothing yet. Buthe did not hesitate, as the young man's friend, to counsel him about hisown share in the matter.
"Keep all your friends out of it. Let none of them be there. Theexecution of a warrant is the duty of the Authorities, not of amateursand volunteers. Even you yourself should not appear, unless it be justto identify; though afterwards you must do so, of course, when thecharge comes to be heard. Better even that criminals should escape, thanthat non-official persons should take the business on themselves. As amagistrate's son, you must know this."
"That is all very well, in an ordinary case," said Fox, who had got agreat deal more than he wanted. "But here it is of such extremeimportance to get to the bottom of this matter; and if they escape,where are we?"
"All very true. But if you apply to the law, you must let the law do itsown work, and in its own way, though it be not perfect. All you can do,is to hope for the best."
"And probably get the worst," said Jemmy, with a grin of resignation."But I suppose I may be at hand, and ready to give assistance, if calledupon?"
"Certainly," answered Mr. Mockham, rubbing his hands gently; "that isthe privilege of every subject, though not claimed very greedily.By-the-by, I was told that there is to be some sort of wrestling at yourFair this year. Have you heard anything about it?"
"Well, perhaps a little." The young man looked slyly at the Magistrate,for one of the first things he had heard was that Mockham had startedthe scheme by giving ten guineas towards the prize-fund. "Among otherthings I heard that Polwarth is coming, the Cornish champion, as theycall him."
"And he holds the West of England belt. It is too bad," said theMagistrate, "that we should have no man to redeem it. When I was a boy,we should all have been mad, if the belt had gone over the border long.But who is there now? The sport is decaying, and fisticuffs (far moredegrading work) are ousting it altogether. I think you went to see theplay last year."
"I just looked in at it, once or twice. It did not matter very much tome, as a son of Somerset; but it must have been very grievous to a trueDevonian, to see Cornwall chucking his countrymen about, like a lot ofwax-headed ninepins. And no doubt he will do the same thing this year.You can't help it--can you, Squire?"
"Don't be too sure of that, my friend. A man we never heard of haschallenged for the belt, on behalf of Devon. He will not play in thestandards, but have best of three backs with the Cornishman, for thebelt and a special prize raised by subscription. When I was a lad I usedto love to see it, ay, and I knew all the leading men. Why, all thegreat people used to go to see it then. The Lord Lieutenant of thecounty would come down from Westminster for any great match; and as forMagistrates--well, the times are changed."
"You need not have asked me the news, I see. To know all about it, Imust come to you. I should have been glad to see something of it, if itis to be such a big affair. But that will be impossible on account ofthis job. Good night, sir. Twelve o'clock, I think you said, will suitfor our application?"
"Yes, and to stop malicious mouths--for they get up an outcry, if oneknows anybody--I shall get Sir Edwin Sanford to join me. He is in theCommission for Somerset too; and so we can arrange it--if issued at all,to hold good across the border."