CHAPTER VIII
THE TRUANTS
So the day to which we had looked forward with such delight had arrivedat last. Our spirits rose as we got further and further from Everdon,and we never stopped to take breath or to look back till we foundourselves surmounting the last hill above Beverley Manor. By this timewe had far outstripped our friend "Nap"--that worthy deeming itinconsistent with all his maxims ever to hurry himself. "Slow and sure,young gentlemen," he observed soon after we started--"slow and sure winsthe day. Do'ee go on ahead, and wait for I top of Buttercup Close. Igits on better arter a drop o' drink this hot weather. Never fear,squire, I'll not fail ye! Bold! Bold! you go on with your master." So"Nap" turned into the "Cat and Fiddle," and we pursued our journeyalone, not very sorry to be rid of our companion for the present; as,notwithstanding our great admiration for his many resources, hisknowledge of animal life, his skilful method with rats, and generalmanliness of character, we could not but be conscious of our owninferiority in these branches of science, and of a certain want ofcommunity in ideas between two young gentlemen receiving a politeeducation at Everdon, and a rat-catching, dog-stealing poacher of theworst class.
"It's as hot as Hungary," said Victor, seating himself on a stile, andtaking off his cap to fan his handsome, heated face. "Oh, Vere, I wishI was back in the Fatherland! Do you remember the great wood atEdeldorf, and the boar we saw close to the ponies? And oh, Vere, how Ishould like to be upon Gold-kind once again!"
"Yes, Victor, I remember it all," I answered, as I flung myself downamong the buttercups, and turned my cheek to the cool air that came upthe valley--a breeze that blew from the distant hills to the southward,and swept across many a mile of beauty ere it sighed amongst the woodsof Beverley, and rippled the wide surface of the mere; "I shall neverforget Edeldorf, nor my first friend, Victor. But what made you thinkof Hungary just now?"
"Why, your beautiful country," answered Victor, pointing to theluxuriant scene below us--a scene that could exist in England only--ofrich meadows, and leafy copses, and green slopes laughing in thesunlight, dotted with huge old standard trees, and the deep shades ofBeverley, with the white garden-wall standing out from amongst yewhedges, and rare pines, and exotic evergreens; while the grey turrets ofthe Manor House peeped and peered here and there through the giant elmsthat stirred and flickered in the summer breeze. The mere wasglittering at our feet, and the distant uplands melting away into thegolden haze of summer. Child as I was, I could have cried, withoutknowing why, as I sat there on the grass, drinking in beauty at everypore. What is it that gives to all beauty, animate or inanimate, atinge of melancholy?--the greater the beauty, the deeper the tinge. Isit an instinct of mortality? the "bright must fade" of the poet? ashadowy regret for Dives, who, no more than Lazarus, can secureenjoyment for a day? or is it a vague yearning for something moreperfect still?--a longing of the soul for the unattainable, which, morethan all the philosophy in the universe, argues the necessity of afuture state. I could not analyse my feelings. I did not then believethat others experienced the same sensations as myself. I only knewthat, like Parson Hugh, I had "great dispositions to cry."
"I wish I were a man, Vere," remarked Victor, as he pulled out hisknife, and began to carve a huge V on the top bar of the stile. "Ishould like to be grown up now, and you too, Vere; what a life we wouldlead! Let me see, I should have six horses for myself, and three--no,four for you; and a pack of hounds, like Mr. Barker's, that we saw lasthalf, coming home from hunting; and two rifles, both double-barrelled.Do you know, I hit the bull's-eye with papa's rifle, when Prince Vocqsalwas at Edeldorf, and he said I was the best shot in Hungary for my age.Look at that crow, Vere, perching on the branch of the old hawthorn--Icould put a bullet into him from here. Oh! I wish I had papa's rifle!"
"But should you not like to be King of Hungary, Victor?" said I, for Iadmired my "chum" so ardently, that I believed him fit for any position,however exalted. "Should you not like to be king, and ride about upon awhite horse, with a scarlet tunic and pelisse, and ostrich feathers inyour hat, bowing right and left to the ladies at the windows, with aHungarian body-guard clattering behind you, and the people shouting andflinging up their caps in the street?" I saw it all in my mind's eye,and fancied my friend the hero of the procession. Victor hesitated, andshook his head.
"I think I had rather be a General of Division, like Wallenstein, andcommand ten thousand cavalry; or better still, Vere, ride and shoot aswell as Prince Vocqsal, and go up into the mountains after deer, andkill bears and wolves and wild boars, and do what I like. Wouldn't Ijust pack up my books, and snap my fingers at March, and leave Everdonto-morrow, if I could take you with me. But you, Vere, if you couldhave your own way, what would you be?"
I was not long answering, for there was scarcely a day that I did notconsider the subject; but my aspirations for myself were so humble, thatI hesitated a little lest Victor should laugh at me, before I replied.
"Oh, I will do whatever my father wishes, Victor; and I hope he willsometimes let me go to you; but if I could do exactly what I liked, if afairy was at this moment to come out of that bluebell and offer me mychoice, I should ask to be a doctor, Victor, and to live somewhere onthis hill."
"_Sappramento!_" exclaimed Victor, swearing, in his astonishment, hisfather's favourite oath--"a doctor, Vere! and why?"
"Well," I answered, modestly, "I am not like you, Victor; I wish I were.Oh, you cannot tell how I wish I were you! To be high-born and rich,and heir to a great family, and to have everybody making up to one andadmiring one--that is what I should call happiness. But I can never havethe chance of that. I am shy and stupid and awkward, and--and,Victor"--I got it out at last, blushing painfully--"I know that I amugly--_so ugly_! It is foolish to care about it, for, after all, it isnot my fault; but I cannot help wishing for beauty. It is so painful tobe remarked and laughed at, and I know people laugh at _me_. Why, Iheard Ropsley say to Manners, only yesterday, after I had been faggingfor him at cricket, 'Why, what an ugly little beggar it is!' and Mannerssaid, 'Yes,' and 'he thought it must be a great misfortune.' AndRopsley laughed so, I felt he must be laughing at me, as if I could helpit! Oh, Victor, you cannot think how I long to be loved; that is why Ishould like to be a doctor. I would live up here in a small cottage,from which I could always see this beautiful view; and I would studyhard to be very clever--not at Greek and Latin, like March, but atsomething I could take an interest in; and I would have a quiet pony,not a rantipole like your favourite Gold-kind; and I would visit thepoor people for miles round, and never grudge time nor pains for any onein affliction or distress. I would _make_ them fond of me, and it wouldbe such happiness to go out on a day like this, and see a kind smile forone on everybody's face, good or bad. Nobody loves me now, Victor,except papa and you and Bold; and papa, I fear, only because he is mypapa. I heard him say one day, long ago, to my nurse (you remembernurse Nettich?), 'Never mind what the boy is like--he is my own.' Ifear he does not care for me for myself. You like me, Victor, becauseyou are used to me, and because I like _you_ so much; but that is notexactly the sort of liking I mean; and as for Bold--here, Bold! Bold!Why, what has become of the dog? He must have gone back to look for'Nap.'"
Sure enough Bold was nowhere visible, having made his escape during ourconversation; but in his place the worthy "King of Naples" was to beseen toiling up the hill, more than three parts drunk, and with ahumorous twinkle in his solitary eye which betokened mischief.
"Now, young gents," observed the poacher, settling himself upon thestile, and producing from the capacious pockets of his greasy velveteenjacket an assortment of snares, night-lines, and othersuspicious-looking articles; "now, young gents, I promised to show you abit of sport comin' here to Beverley, and a bit of sport we'll have.Fust and foremost, I've agot to lift a line or two as I set yesterday inthe mere; then we'll just take a turn round the pheasantry, for youyoung gentlemen to see the fowls, you know;
Sir 'Arry, he bain't acomin' back till next week, and Muster Barrells, the keeper, he's offinto Norfolk, arter pinters, and such like. You keep the dog well atheel, squire. Why, whatever has become o' Bold?"
Alas, Bold himself was heard to answer the question. Self-hunting in anadjoining covert, his deep-toned voice was loudly awakening the echoes,and scaring the game all over the Manor, to his own unspeakable delightand our intense dismay. Forgetful of all the precepts of his puppyhood,he scampered hither and thither; now in headlong chase of a hare; nowdashing aside after a rabbit, putting up pheasants at every stride, andcongratulating himself on his emancipation and his prowess in notes thatcould not fail to indicate his pursuits to keepers, watchers, all theestablishment of Beverley Manor, to say nothing of the inhabitants ofthat and the adjoining parishes.
Off we started in pursuit, bounding down the hill at our best pace. Old"Nap" making run in his own peculiar gait, which was none of the mostgraceful. Victor laughing and shouting with delight; and I frightenedout of my wits at the temporary loss of my favourite, and the probableconsequences of his disobedience.
Long before we could reach the scene of Bold's misdoings, we had beenobserved by two men who were fishing in the mere, and who now gavechase--the one keeping along the valley, so as to cut us off in ourdescent; the other, a long-legged fellow, striding right up the hill atonce, in case we should turn tail and beat a retreat. "Nap" suddenlydisappeared--I have reason to believe he ensconced himself in a deepditch, and there remained until the danger had passed away. Victor andI were still descending the hill, calling frantically to Bold. Thekeeper who had taken the lower line of pursuit was gaining rapidly uponus. I now saw that he carried a gun under his arm. My dog flashed outof a small belt of young trees in hot pursuit of a hare--tongue out,head down, and tail lowered, in full enjoyment of the chase. At theinstant he appeared the man in front of me stopped dead short. Quick aslightning he lifted his long shining barrel. I saw the flash; and ere Iheard the report my dog tumbled heels over head, and lay upon the sunnysward, as I believed in the agony of that moment, stone dead. Istrained every nerve to reach him, for I could hear the rattle of aramrod, as the keeper reloaded,--and I determined to cover Bold with mybody, and, if necessary, to die with him. I was several paces ahead ofVictor; whom I now heard calling me by name, but I could think ofnothing, attend to nothing, but the prostrate animal in front. What ajoy it Was when I reached him to find he was not actually killed. Hisfore-leg was frightfully mangled by the charge; but as I fell breathlessby the side of my darling Bold, he licked my face, and I knew there wasa chance for him still.
A rough grasp was laid on toy shoulder, and a hoarse voice roused me:
"Come, young man; I thought I'd drop on to you at last. Now you'll justcome with me to Sir 'Arry, and we'll see what _he_ has to say to thishere."
And on looking up I found myself in the hands of a strong, square-builtfellow, with a velveteen jacket, and a double-barrelled gun under hisarm, being no less a person than Sir Harry Beverley's head keeper, andthe identical individual that had been watching us from the mere, andhad made so successful a shot at Bold.
"Come, leave the dog," he added; giving me another shake, andscrutinising my apparel, which was evidently not precisely of thedescription he had expected; "leave the dog--it's no great odds abouthim; and as for _you_, young gentleman, if you _be_ a young gentleman,you _had_ ought to be ashamed of yourself. It's not want as drove youto this trade. Come, none of that; you go quietly along of me; it'sbest for you, I tell you."
I was struggling to free myself from his hold, for I could not bear toleave my dog. A thousand horrible anticipations filled my head. Trial,transportation, I knew not what, for I had a vague terror of the law,and had heard enough of its rigours in regard to the offence ofpoaching, to fill me with indescribable alarm; yet, through it all, Iwas more concerned for Bold than myself. My favourite was dying, Ibelieved, and I could not leave him.
I looked up in the face of my captor. He was a rough, hairy fellow; butthere was an expression of kindliness in his homely features whichencouraged me to entreat for mercy.
"Oh, sir," I pleaded, "let me only take my dog; he's not so very heavy;I'll carry him myself. Bold, my darling Bold! He is my own dog, andI'd rather you'd kill me too than force me to leave him here."
The man was evidently mollified, and a good deal puzzled into thebargain. I saw my advantage, and pressed it vigorously.
"I'll go to prison willingly,--I'll go anywhere you tell me,--only dotry and cure Bold. Papa will pay you anything if you'll only cure Bold.Victor! Victor!" I added, seeing my chum now coming up, likewise incustody, "help me to get this gentleman to save Bold."
Victor looked flushed, and fiercer than I ever remembered to have seenthat pretty boyish face. His collar was torn and his dress disordered.He had evidently struggled manfully with his captor, and the latterwiped his heated brow with an expression of mingled amusement andastonishment, that showed he was clearly at his wit's end what to makeof his prize.
"Blowed if I know what to say o' this here, Mr. Barrells," said he tohis brother functionary. "This little chap's even gamer nor t'otherone. _Run_! I never see such a one-er to run. If it hadn't been forthe big hedge at the corner of the cow-pasture, I'd never a cotched 'unin a month o' Sundays; and when I went to lay hold, the young warmintout with his knife and offered to whip it into me. He's a rare boythis; I could scarce grip him for laughing; but the lad's got a sperret,bless'd if he ain't. I cut my own knuckles gettin' of it out of hishands." And he showed Victor's knife to his comrade as he spoke.
Mr. Barrells was a man of reflection, as keepers generally are. Heexamined the knife carefully, and spoke in an undertone to his friend.
"Do you see this here?" he remarked, pointing to the coronet which wasinlaid in the steel; "and do you see that there?" he added, with aglance at Victor's gold watch-chain, of Parisian fabric. "Put this hereand that there together, Bill, which it convinces me as these herelittle chaps is not them as we was a lookin' for. Your cove looks agentleman all over; I knows the breed, Bill, and there's no mistakeabout the real thing; and my precious boy here, he wouldn't leave thedawg, not if it was ever so, though he's a very little 'un; he's agentleman too; but that don't make no odds, Bill: gentlemen hadn't oughtto be up to such-like tricks, nor haven't half the excuse of poor folks;and, gentlemen or no gentlemen, they goes before Sir 'Arry, dog and all,as sure as my name's Barrells!"
Victor and I looked at each other in hopeless despair; there was, then,nothing for it but to undergo the extreme penalty of the law. Withhanging heads and blushing cheeks we walked between our captors; Bill,who seemed a good-natured fellow enough, carrying the unfortunate Boldon his shoulders. We thought our shame had reached its climax, but wewere doomed to suffer even more degradation in this our first visit toBeverley Manor.
As we threaded the gravel path of a beautiful shrubbery leading to theback offices of the Manor House, we met a young girl taking herafternoon's walk with her governess, whose curiosity seemed vividlyexcited by our extraordinary procession. To this day I can rememberConstance Beverley as she stood before me then, the first time I eversaw her. She was scarcely more than a child, but her large serious darkeyes, her noble and somewhat sad expression of countenance, gave her aninterest which mere childish beauty could never have possessed. Thereare some faces that we can discern even at such a distance as rendersthe features totally indistinct, as if the expression of countenancereached us by some magnetic process independent of vision, and such aface was that of Constance Beverley. I have often heard her beautydisputed. I have even known her called plain, though that was generallyby critics of her own sex, but I never heard any one deny that she was_uncommon-looking_, and always certain to attract attention, even whereshe failed in winning admiration. Victor blushed scarlet, and I felt asif I must sink into the earth when this young lady walked up to thekeeper, and asked him "what he was going to do with those people, andwhy he was taking them
to papa?"
Miss Constance was evidently a favourite with Mr. Barrells, for hestopped and doffed his hat with much respect whilst he explained to herthe circumstance of our pursuit and capture. So long as he alluded onlyto our poaching offences, I thought the little lady looked on us witheyes of kindly commiseration; but when he hinted his suspicions of oursocial position, I observed that she immediately assumed an air ofmarked coldness, and transferred her pity to Bold.
"So you see, Miss, I does my duty by Sir 'Arry without respect to richor poor," was Mr. Barrells' conclusion to a long-winded orationaddressed partly to the young lady, partly to her governess, and partlyto ourselves, the shame-faced culprits; "and therefore it is as I bringsthese young gentlemen up to the justice-room, if so be, as I saidbefore, they _be_ young gentlemen; and so, Miss Constance, the law musttake its course."
"But you'll take care of the poor dog, Barrells; promise me you'll takecare of the poor dog," was the young lady's last entreaty as she walkedon with her governess; and a turn in the shrubbery hid her from oursight.
"_What_ a half-holiday this has been!" whispered I to my comrade indistress, as we neared the house that had so long been an object of suchcuriosity.
"Yes," replied Victor, "but it's not over yet."
Sir Harry was at the farm; we must wait for his return. Meantime we wereshown into the servants' hall; a large stone chamber devoid offurniture, that reminded me of our schoolroom at Everdon--much as wehated the latter, what would we have given to be there now! Cold meatand ale were offered us; but, as may well be imagined, we had noappetite to partake of them, although in that respect our captors set usa noble example; remaining, however, on either side of us as turnkeyswatch those who are ordered for execution. The servants of thehousehold came one after another to stare at the unfortunate culprits,and made audible remarks on our dress and general appearance. Victor'sbeauty won him much favour from the female part of the establishment;and a housemaid with a wonderfully smart cap brought him a cup of tea,which he somewhat rudely declined. There was considerable discussion asto our real position in society carried on without the slightest regardto our presence. The under-butler, whose last place was in London, andwhose professional anxiety about his spoons may have somewhat prejudicedhim, gave it as his opinion that we belonged to what he called "theswell mob"; but Mr. Barrells, who did not seem to understand the term,"pooh-poohed" this suggestion with so much dignity as at once toextinguish that official, who incontinently retired to his pantry andhis native obscurity. The women, who generally lean to the mostimprobable version of a story, were inclined to believe that we weresailors, and of foreign extraction; but the most degrading theory ofall, and one that I am bound to confess met with a large majority ofsupporters, was to the effect that we were run-away 'prentices fromFleetsbury, and would be put in the stocks on our return to that markettown. We had agreed not to give our names except as a last resource, myfriend clinging, as I thought somewhat hopelessly, to the idea that SirHarry would let us off with a reprimand, and we might get back toEverdon without March finding it out. So the great clock ticked loudlyin the hall, and there we sat in mute endurance. As Victor had beforeremarked, "it was not over yet."