CHAPTER IX
CLARA AND LAETITIA MEET: THEY ARE COMPARED
An hour before the time for lessons next morning young Crossjay was onthe lawn with a big bunch of wild flowers. He left them at the halldoor for Miss Middleton, and vanished into bushes.
These vulgar weeds were about to be dismissed to the dustheap by thegreat officials of the household; but as it happened that MissMiddleton had seen them from the window in Crossjay's hands, thediscovery was made that they were indeed his presentation-bouquet, anda footman received orders to place them before her. She was verypleased. The arrangement of the flowers bore witness to fairer fingersthan the boy's own in the disposition of the rings of colour, redcampion and anemone, cowslip and speedwell, primroses andwood-hyacinths; and rising out of the blue was a branch bearing thickwhite blossom, so thick, and of so pure a whiteness, that MissMiddleton, while praising Crossjay for soliciting the aid of Miss Dale,was at a loss to name the tree.
"It is a gardener's improvement on the Vestal of the forest, the wildcherry," said Dr. Middleton, "and in this case we may admit thegardener's claim to be valid, though I believe that, with his gift ofdouble blossom, he has improved away the fruit. Call this the Vestal ofcivilization, then; he has at least done something to vindicate thebeauty of the office as well as the justness of the title."
"It is Vernon's Holy Tree the young rascal has been despoiling," saidSir Willoughby merrily.
Miss Middleton was informed that this double-blossom wild cherry-treewas worshipped by Mr. Whitford.
Sir Willoughby promised he would conduct her to it.
"You," he said to her, "can bear the trial; few complexions can; it isto most ladies a crueller test than snow. Miss Dale, for example,becomes old lace within a dozen yards of it. I should like to place herunder the tree beside you."
"Dear me, though; but that is investing the hamadryad with novel andterrible functions," exclaimed Dr. Middleton.
Clara said: "Miss Dale could drag me into a superior Court to show mefading beside her in gifts more valuable than a complexion."
"She has a fine ability," said Vernon.
All the world knew, so Clara knew of Miss Dales romantic admiration ofSir Willoughby; she was curious to see Miss Dale and study the natureof a devotion that might be, within reason, imitable--for a man whocould speak with such steely coldness of the poor lady he hadfascinated? Well, perhaps it was good for the hearts of women to bebeneath a frost; to be schooled, restrained, turned inward on theirdreams. Yes, then, his coldness was desireable; it encouraged an idealof him. It suggested and seemed to propose to Clara's mind thedivineness of separation instead of the deadly accuracy of an intimateperusal. She tried to look on him as Miss Dale might look, and whilepartly despising her for the dupery she envied, and more thancriticizing him for the inhuman numbness of sentiment which offered uphis worshipper to point a complimentary comparison, she was able toimagine a distance whence it would be possible to observe himuncritically, kindly, admiringly; as the moon a handsome mortal, forexample.
In the midst of her thoughts, she surprised herself by saying: "Icertainly was difficult to instruct. I might see things clearer if Ihad a fine ability. I never remember to have been perfectly pleasedwith my immediate lesson . . ."
She stopped, wondering whither her tongue was leading her; then added,to save herself, "And that may be why I feel for poor Crossjay."
Mr. Whitford apparently did not think it remarkable that she shouldhave been set off gabbling of "a fine ability", though the eulogisticphrase had been pronounced by him with an impressiveness to make hisear aware of an echo.
Sir Willoughby dispersed her vapourish confusion. "Exactly," he said."I have insisted with Vernon, I don't know how often, that you musthave the lad by his affections. He won't bear driving. It had no effecton me. Boys of spirit kick at it. I think I know boys, Clara."
He found himself addressing eyes that regarded him as though he were asmall speck, a pin's head, in the circle of their remote contemplation.They were wide; they closed.
She opened them to gaze elsewhere.
He was very sensitive.
Even then, when knowingly wounding him, or because of it, she wastrying to climb back to that altitude of the thin division of neutralground, from which we see a lover's faults and are above them, puresurveyors. She climbed unsuccessfully, it is true; soon despairing andusing the effort as a pretext to fall back lower.
Dr. Middleton withdrew Sir Willoughby's attention from theimperceptible annoyance. "No, sir, no: the birch! the birch! Boys ofspirit commonly turn into solid men, and the solider the men the moresurely do they vote for Busby. For me, I pray he may be immortal inGreat Britain. Sea-air nor mountain-air is half so bracing. I ventureto say that the power to take a licking is better worth having than thepower to administer one. Horse him and birch him if Crossjay runs fromhis books."
"It is your opinion, sir?" his host bowed to him affably, shocked onbehalf of the ladies.
"So positively so, sir, that I will undertake, without knowledge oftheir antecedents, to lay my finger on the men in public life who havenot had early Busby. They are ill-balanced men. Their seat of reason isnot a concrete. They won't take rough and smooth as they come. Theymake bad blood, can't forgive, sniff right and left for approbation,and are excited to anger if an East wind does not flatter them. Why,sir, when they have grown to be seniors, you find these men mixed upwith the nonsense of their youth; you see they are unthrashed. WeEnglish beat the world because we take a licking well. I hold it for asurety of a proper sweetness of blood."
The smile of Sir Willoughby waxed ever softer as the shakes of his headincreased in contradictoriness. "And yet," said he, with the air ofconceding a little after having answered the Rev. Doctor and convictedhim of error, "Jack requires it to keep him in order. On board shipyour argument may apply. Not, I suspect, among gentlemen. No."
"Good-night to you, gentlemen!" said Dr. Middleton.
Clara heard Miss Eleanor and Miss Isabel interchange remarks:
"Willoughby would not have suffered it!"
"It would entirely have altered him!"
She sighed and put a tooth on her under-lip. The gift of humourousfancy is in women fenced round with forbidding placards; they have tochoke it; if they perceive a piece of humour, for instance, the youngWilloughby grasped by his master,--and his horrified relatives rigid atthe sight of preparations for the seed of sacrilege, they have toblindfold the mind's eye. They are society's hard-drilled soldiery.Prussians that must both march and think in step. It is for theadvantage of the civilized world, if you like, since men have decreedit, or matrons have so read the decree; but here and there a youngerwoman, haply an uncorrected insurgent of the sex matured here andthere, feels that her lot was cast with her head in a narrower pit thanher limbs.
Clara speculated as to whether Miss Dale might be perchance a person ofa certain liberty of mind. She asked for some little, only some little,free play of mind in a house that seemed to wear, as it were, a cap ofiron. Sir Willoughby not merely ruled, he throned, he inspired: andhow? She had noticed an irascible sensitiveness in him alert against ashadow of disagreement; and as he was kind when perfectly appeased, thesop was offered by him for submission. She noticed that even Mr.Whitford forbore to alarm the sentiment of authority in his cousin. Ifhe did not breathe Sir Willoughby, like the ladies Eleanor and Isabel,he would either acquiesce in a syllable or be silent. He never stronglydissented. The habit of the house, with its iron cap, was on him, as itwas on the servants, and would be, oh, shudders of the shipwrecked thatsee their end in drowning! on the wife.
"When do I meet Miss Dale?" she inquired.
"This very evening, at dinner," replied Sir Willoughby.
Then, thought she, there is that to look forward to.
She indulged her morbid fit, and shut up her senses that she might livein the anticipation of meeting Miss Dale; and, long before the approachof the hour, her hope of encountering any other than another dulladherent
of Sir Willoughby had fled. So she was languid for two of thethree minutes when she sat alone with Laetitia in the drawing-roombefore the rest had assembled.
"It is Miss Middleton?" Laetitia said, advancing to her. "My jealousytells me; for you have won my boy Crossjay's heart, and done more tobring him to obedience in a few minutes than we have been able to do inmonths."
"His wild flowers were so welcome to me," said Clara.
"He was very modest over them. And I mention it because boys of his ageusually thrust their gifts in our faces fresh as they pluck them, andyou were to be treated quite differently."
"We saw his good fairy's hand."
"She resigns her office; but I pray you not to love him too well inreturn; for he ought to be away reading with one of those men who getboys through their examinations. He is, we all think, a born sailor,and his place is in the navy."
"But, Miss Dale, I love him so well that I shall consult his interestsand not my own selfishness. And, if I have influence, he will not be aweek with you longer. It should have been spoke of to-day; I must havebeen in some dream; I thought of it, I know. I will not forget to dowhat may be in my power."
Clara's heart sank at the renewed engagement and plighting of herselfinvolved in her asking a favour, urging any sort of petition. The causewas good. Besides, she was plighted already.
"Sir Willoughby is really fond of the boy," she said.
"He is fond of exciting fondness in the boy," said Miss Dale. "He hasnot dealt much with children. I am sure he likes Crossjay; he could nototherwise be so forbearing; it is wonderful what he endures and laughsat."
Sir Willoughby entered. The presence of Miss Dale illuminated him asthe burning taper lights up consecrated plate. Deeply respecting herfor her constancy, esteeming her for a model of taste, he was never inher society without that happy consciousness of shining which callsforth the treasures of the man; and these it is no exaggeration to termunbounded, when all that comes from him is taken for gold.
The effect of the evening on Clara was to render her distrustful of herlater antagonism. She had unknowingly passed into the spirit of MissDale, Sir Willoughby aiding; for she could sympathize with the view ofhis constant admirer on seeing him so cordially and smoothly gay; asone may say, domestically witty, the most agreeable form of wit. MrsMountstuart Jenkinson discerned that he had a leg of physicalperfection; Miss Dale distinguished it in him in the vital essence; andbefore either of these ladies he was not simply a radiant, he was aproductive creature, so true it is that praise is our fructifying sun.He had even a touch of the romantic air which Clara remembered as herfirst impression of the favourite of the county; and strange she foundit to observe this resuscitated idea confronting her experience. Whatif she had been captious, inconsiderate? Oh, blissful revival of thesense of peace! The happiness of pain departing was all that she lookedfor, and her conception of liberty was to learn to love her chains,provided that he would spare her the caress. In this mood she sternlycondemned Constantia. "We must try to do good; we must not be thinkingof ourselves; we must make the best of our path in life." She revolvedthese infantile precepts with humble earnestness; and not to be tardyin her striving to do good, with a remote but pleasurable glimpse ofMr. Whitford hearing of it, she took the opportunity to speak to SirWilloughby on the subject of young Crossjay, at a moment when,alighting from horseback, he had shown himself to advantage among agallant cantering company. He showed to great advantage on horsebackamong men, being invariably the best mounted, and he had a cavalierlystyle, possibly cultivated, but effective. On foot his raised head andhalf-dropped eyelids too palpably assumed superiority. "Willoughby, Iwant to speak," she said, and shrank as she spoke, lest he shouldimmediately grant everything in the mood of courtship, and invade herrespite; "I want to speak of that dear boy Crossjay. You are fond ofhim. He is rather an idle boy here, and wasting time . . ."
"Now you are here, and when you are here for good, my love for good. . ." he fluttered away in loverliness, forgetful of Crossjay, whomhe presently took up. "The boy recognizes his most sovereign lady, andwill do your bidding, though you should order him to learn his lessons!Who would not obey? Your beauty alone commands. But what is therebeyond?--a grace, a hue divine, that sets you not so much above asapart, severed from the world."
Clara produced an active smile in duty, and pursued: "If Crossjay weresent at once to some house where men prepare boys to pass for the navy,he would have his chance, and the navy is distinctly his profession.His father is a brave man, and he inherits bravery, and he has apassion for a sailor's life; only he must be able to pass hisexamination, and he has not much time."
Sir Willoughby gave a slight laugh in sad amusement.
"My dear Clara, you adore the world; and I suppose you have to learnthat there is not a question in this wrangling world about which wehave not disputes and contests ad nauseam. I have my notions concerningCrossjay, Vernon has his. I should wish to make a gentleman of him.Vernon marks him for a sailor. But Vernon is the lad's protector, I amnot. Vernon took him from his father to instruct him, and he has aright to say what shall be done with him. I do not interfere. Only Ican't prevent the lad from liking me. Old Vernon seems to feel it. Iassure you I hold entirely aloof. If I am asked, in spite of mydisapproval of Vernon's plans for the boy, to subscribe to hisdeparture, I can but shrug, because, as you see, I have never opposed.Old Vernon pays for him, he is the master, he decides, and if Crossjayis blown from the masthead in a gale, the blame does not fall on me.These, my dear, are matters of reason."
"I would not venture to intrude on them," said Clara, "if I had notsuspected that money . . ."
"Yes," cried Willoughby; "and it is a part. And let old Vernonsurrender the boy to me, I will immediately relieve him of the burdenon his purse. Can I do that, my dear, for the furtherance of a scheme Icondemn? The point is thus: latterly I have invited Captain Patterne tovisit me: just previous to his departure for the African Coast, whereGovernment despatches Marines when there is no other way of killingthem, I sent him a special invitation. He thanked me and curtlydeclined. The man, I may almost say, is my pensioner. Well, he callshimself a Patterne, he is undoubtedly a man of courage, he has elementsof our blood, and the name. I think I am to be approved for desiring tomake a better gentleman of the son than I behold in the father: andseeing that life from an early age on board ship has anything but madea gentleman of the father, I hold that I am right in shaping anothercourse for the son."
"Naval officers . . ." Clara suggested.
"Some," said Willoughby. "But they must be men of birth, coming out ofhomes of good breeding. Strip them of the halo of the title of navalofficers, and I fear you would not often say gentlemen when they stepinto a drawing-room. I went so far as to fancy I had some claim to makeyoung Crossjay something different. It can be done: the Patterne comesout in his behaviour to you, my love; it can be done. But if I takehim, I claim undisputed sway over him. I cannot make a gentleman of thefellow if I am to compete with this person and that. In fine, he mustlook up to me, he must have one model."
"Would you, then, provide for him subsequently?"
"According to his behaviour."
"Would not that be precarious for him?"
"More so than the profession you appear inclined to choose for him?"
"But there he would be under clear regulations."
"With me he would have to respond to affection."
"Would you secure to him a settled income? For an idle gentleman is badenough; a penniless gentleman . . ."
"He has only to please me, my dear, and he will be launched andprotected."
"But if he does not succeed in pleasing you?"
"Is it so difficult?"
"Oh!" Clara fretted.
"You see, my love, I answer you," said Sir Willoughby.
He resumed: "But let old Vernon have his trial with the lad. He has hisown ideas. Let him carry them out. I shall watch the experiment."
Clara was for abandoning her task in sheer faintness
.
"Is not the question one of money?" she said, shyly, knowing Mr.Whitford to be poor.
"Old Vernon chooses to spend his money that way." replied SirWilloughby. "If it saves him from breaking his shins and risking hisneck on his Alps, we may consider it well employed."
"Yes," Clara's voice occupied a pause.
She seized her languor as it were a curling snake and cast it off."But I understand that Mr. Whitford wants your assistance. Is henot--not rich? When he leaves the Hall to try his fortune in literaturein London, he may not be so well able to support Crossjay and obtainthe instruction necessary for the boy: and it would be generous to helphim."
"Leaves the Hall!" exclaimed Willoughby. "I have not heard a word ofit. He made a bad start at the beginning, and I should have thoughtthat would have tamed him: had to throw over his Fellowship; ahem. Thenhe received a small legacy some time back, and wanted to be off to pushhis luck in Literature: rank gambling, as I told him. Londonizing cando him no good. I thought that nonsense of his was over years ago. Whatis it he has from me?--about a hundred and fifty a year: and it mightbe doubled for the asking: and all the books he requires: and thesewriters and scholars no sooner think of a book than they must have it.And do not suppose me to complain. I am a man who will not have asingle shilling expended by those who serve immediately about myperson. I confess to exacting that kind of dependency. Feudalism is notan objectionable thing if you can be sure of the lord. You know, Clara,and you should know me in my weakness too, I do not claim servitude, Istipulate for affection. I claim to be surrounded by persons loving me.And with one? . . . dearest! So that we two can shut out the world; welive what is the dream of others. Nothing imaginable can be sweeter. Itis a veritable heaven on earth. To be the possessor of the whole ofyou! Your thoughts, hopes, all."
Sir Willoughby intensified his imagination to conceive more: he couldnot, or could not express it, and pursued: "But what is this talk ofVernon's leaving me? He cannot leave. He has barely a hundred a year ofhis own. You see, I consider him. I do not speak of the ingratitude ofthe wish to leave. You know, my dear, I have a deadly abhorrence ofpartings and such like. As far as I can, I surround myself with healthypeople specially to guard myself from having my feelings wrung; andexcepting Miss Dale, whom you like--my darling does like her?"--theanswer satisfied him; "with that one exception, I am not aware of acase that threatens to torment me. And here is a man, under nocompulsion, talking of leaving the Hall! In the name of goodness, why?But why? Am I to imagine that the sight of perfect felicity distresseshim? We are told that the world is 'desperately wicked'. I do not liketo think it of my friends; yet otherwise their conduct is often hard toaccount for."
"If it were true, you would not punish Crossjay?" Clara feeblyinterposed.
"I should certainly take Crossjay and make a man of him after my ownmodel, my dear. But who spoke to you of this?"
"Mr. Whitford himself. And let me give you my opinion, Willoughby, thathe will take Crossjay with him rather than leave him, if there is afear of the boy's missing his chance of the navy."
"Marines appear to be in the ascendant," said Sir Willoughby,astonished at the locution and pleading in the interests of a son ofone. "Then Crossjay he must take. I cannot accept half the boy. I am,"he laughed, "the legitimate claimant in the application for judgementbefore the wise king. Besides, the boy has a dose of my blood in him;he has none of Vernon's, not one drop."
"Ah!"
"You see, my love?"
"Oh, I do see; yes."
"I put forth no pretensions to perfection," Sir Willoughby continued."I can bear a considerable amount of provocation; still I can beoffended, and I am unforgiving when I have been offended. Speak toVernon, if a natural occasion should spring up. I shall, of course,have to speak to him. You may, Clara, have observed a man who passed meon the road as we were cantering home, without a hint of a touch to hishat. That man is a tenant of mine, farming six hundred acres, Hoppnerby name: a man bound to remember that I have, independently of myposition, obliged him frequently. His lease of my ground has five yearsto run. I must say I detest the churlishness of our country population,and where it comes across me I chastise it. Vernon is a differentmatter: he will only require to be spoken to. One would fancy the oldfellow laboured now and then under a magnetic attraction to beggary. Mylove," he bent to her and checked their pacing up and down, "you aretired?"
"I am very tired to-day," said Clara.
His arm was offered. She laid two fingers on it, and they dropped whenhe attempted to press them to his rib.
He did not insist. To walk beside her was to share in the statelinessof her walking.
He placed himself at a corner of the door-way for her to pass him intothe house, and doated on her cheek, her ear, and the softly dusky napeof her neck, where this way and that the little lighter-colouredirreclaimable curls running truant from the comb and the knot--curls,half-curls, root-curls, vine-ringlets, wedding-rings, fledglingfeathers, tufts of down, blown wisps--waved or fell, waved over or upor involutedly, or strayed, loose and downward, in the form of smallsilken paws, hardly any of them much thicker than a crayon shading,cunninger than long round locks of gold to trick the heart.
Laetitia had nothing to show resembling such beauty.