CHAPTER XX.
VALE LESTON.
'The way to make thy son rich is to fill His mind with rest before his trunk with riches; For wealth without contentment climbs a hill, To feel those tempests that fly over ditches, But if thy son can make ten pounds his measure, Then all thou addest may be called his treasure.' _George Herbert._
'I say, Felix, you've not told me about Vale Leston.'
The two brothers were established under the lee of an old boat, beneaththe deep shadow of the red earth cliffs, festooned with ivy, wildclematis, everlasting pea, thrift, and samphire. Not far off, nichedbeneath the same cliff, were two or three cottage lodging-houses,two-storied, with rough grey slate roofs, glaring white walls, andgreen shutters to the windows that looked out over the shingly beach tothe lazily rippling summer sea.
Ewmouth was a lazy place. Felix had felt half asleep through theearlier days of his stay, and Lance seemed to be lulled into acontinual doze whenever he was unoccupied, and that was almost always.It had grieved his elder brother to see this naturally vivaciousbeing so inert and content with inaction, only strolling about alittle in early morning and late evening, and languid and weary, ifnot actually suffering, during the heat and glare of the day. He wasnow, with his air-pillow and a railway rug, lying on the beach, besideFelix, who with his safety ink-stand planted in the sand, was at workcondensing the parliamentary debates for the Pursuivant, and was gladto perceive that he was so far alive as to be leaning on his elbow,slowly shovelling the sand or smaller pebbles with the frail tenementof a late crab; and it was another good sign to hear his voice in avoluntary inquiry about Vale Leston.
'I have not been there yet.'
'Not there?'
'No. Old Abednego Tripp comes over here every market day, and he's theonly person I wanted to see.'
'I thought you came here because you wanted to see the place?'
'Yes; but I was not up to the walk when I came here; and while you wereill I never durst go out of reach of the telegraph, and latterly Iwaited for you. After all, I have not much mind to it. I don't see thegood of setting oneself a coveting one's neighbour's house.'
'It wouldn't be my house, any way,' said Lance quaintly. 'How far isit?'
'Rather more than three miles. We'll get a boat some day and do it.'
'That will be jolly!' and after shovelling a little longer, Lanceadded, 'How came we to be turned out?'
'That's just what I can't tell. I was only seven, you know, and myfather never would talk of it. Sibby used to revile the mane nagur,Misther Fulbert, till it was current in the nursery that he was a blackman who expelled us _vi et armis_. One day, my father found four orfive of us in a row slashing at an old black doll, by way of killingMisther Fulbert, and prohibited such executions. I think, too, that hequashed an attempt to call our own Fulbert by his other name.'
'I wonder what the nagur did?'
'By the light of maturer nature, I imagine that he may have succeededas heir-at-law, and that his _maneness_ may have consisted in notgiving the living to my father; but I cannot tell. It always seemed myfather's great desire to put it out of our minds. I remember before weleft the place his catching me in a furious rage with some one who toldme my pony was to be sold. He carried me off, and told me it was alltrue; and we were going away, and he trusted to me to be brave and makeit as little hard to Mamma and the little girls as could be. He saidthe place had belonged to old Uncle Underwood, and that we had no rightto stay there after his death. That was all the explanation he gave me,first or last; and I don't think we thought much about it after theneck of the change was broken.'
'You remember it, though.'
'I believe I know every step of the house and garden. I have neverceased to dream of them; and I am as much afraid of disturbing oldimpressions as of reviving wishes.'
'Holloa! what's up?' exclaimed Lance, as the landlady was seen comingin quest of them. 'I thought I saw a tidy little tiger going in therejust now.'
'A note from Mr. Staples, if you please, Sir, and they wait for ananswer.'
'I didn't know you had any acquaintance here.'
'Mr. Staples is the solicitor who did the business about AdmiralChester's legacy. He is retired now, and only holds some county office.He found me out last week, I believe, from some letters of mine goingwool-gathering to the other F. Underwood. He called and said he knew myfather, and was very civil and friendly. He sent to inquire after youthe day you came. This is what he says:--
MY DEAR MR. FELIX UNDERWOOD,
Your relative at Vale Leston wishes me to dine with him to-morrow evening. If you and your brother would like to accompany me on the drive, meet me at six o'clock on the top of the cliff. If you would prefer to return earlier than I do, I can direct you to a boatman to take you down by the river.
Believe me, yours truly, C. STAPLES.
'Hurrah! that's not half a bad fellow for an attorney,' cried Lance.
'Shall not you be tired? Will it not be too hot for you?'
'Not a bit of it. He,' indicating the sun, 'can only get at me asquintby that time, and I'm a match for him with my blue umbrella. Come, fireaway, you tardy Norseman. Say we are good for it. Fancy boating back!'
And Lance whistled a few bars of 'The Hardy Norseman,' the liveliestthing he had done since his illness.
At the appointed hour, the brothers were standing on the top of thecliff, with a broad estuary before them; on the opposite side of whichlay the town of Ewmouth at the foot of the old castle, with freshmodern fortifications towards the sea. The town, with its church towersand gas chimneys, sloped away from it; vessels thronged the harbour;and a long weird-looking thready suspension-bridge spanned the broadtide-river to East Ewmouth, the village fast growing into a suburb.There had not been more than time to point out the details to Lancebefore a waggonet drove up from one of the roads that branched amongpleasant 'villa residences;' and in it appeared a white-haired buthearty-looking gentleman, prepossessing and merry, very unlike Lance'snotion of attorneys, who shook hands with them warmly, and took care toput the boy under the shade of the driving-seat.
It was a pretty drive, through rich meadows, shut in by the slopingwooded hills which gradually closed nearer; and by-and-by over theshoulder of one looked a very tall church tower, whereat Felix startedwith a thrill of responsive recognition, and suddenly faltered in thepolitical discussion Mr. Staples had started, but dropped at once,looking at the young man's face with kindly interest.
At the same time road and river both made a sudden turn into a muchnarrower and wilder valley, the hills beyond more rough and rocky; butthe river still broad and smooth, and crossed by a handsome high-backedfive-arched bridge, the centre arch grandly high and broad, the othertwo rapidly diminishing on either side. Over this the carriage turned;and from the crown Lance beheld an almost collegiate-looking mass ofgrey building, enclosing sunny lawns and flower-beds, and surroundedby park-like grounds and trees, all sloping towards the river, andbacked by steep hills of wood and moorland, whence a little brookdanced with much impetus down to the calm steady main stream of Ewe.The church and remnants of the old priory occupied the forefront of asort of peninsula, the sweep of the Ewe on the south and east, and thelittle lively Leston on the north. There was slope enough to raise thebuildings beyond damp, and display the flower-beds beautifully as theylay falling away from the house. The churchyard lay furthest north,skirted by the two rivers, and the east end with the lovely floriatedwindow of the Lady Chapel rising some thirty yards from the bank ofthe Ewe, the outline a little broken by an immense willow tree thatwept its fountain-like foliage into the river. The south transept wascloistered, and joined to the building beyond, a long low grey housewith one row of windows above the sloping roof of the cloister, andthis again connected with a big family mansion, built of the same greystone
with the rest, but in the style of the seventeenth century, and agood deal modernized upon that. A great plate-glass window looked outon the river in the east front, which projected nearly as far as didthe Lady Chapel, the space between being, as before said, laid out in aformal parterre, with stone steps leading down to the river.
'Oh, what a place! what a place!' shouted Lance, starting up in thecarriage. 'It's like the minster, and the jolly old river besides! Twoof them! Oh! what fishing there must be!'
'I did not know it was really so beautiful,' said Felix in a low voice.
'You remember it?' said Mr. Staples.--'I suppose you can't?' to Lance.
'Oh no! I wasn't born! More's the pity! Do the salmon come up here,Sir?'
'Yes, since the fisheries have been protected; but young Mr. Underwoodis a great fisherman, and I fear it is not easy to get a card.'
'Oh, I wasn't thinking about leave, Sir, thank you. I've got no tacklenor anything; but I _am_ glad _we_ have salmon,' said Lance, as thoughhe had acquired an accession of dignity.
Descending from the bridge, they were in a road skirting the river,and on which presently opened the lodge gates of the Rectory. Here Mr.Staples got out, telling his servant to drive the young gentlemen roundto the village.
'I say, Felix,' said Lance, as they were whirled on along the lanewhich swept round the long wall overhung by trees, 'that old party mustknow all about it.'
'Most likely,' said Felix; 'but if there had been any good in myhearing, my father could have told me himself. How well I remember hisgiving me my first ride along this lane! Do you smell the bean field? Idon't believe I have thought of the scent since.'
Felix seemed absorbed in the pleasures of recognition; and Lance,amazed at the beauty and what seemed to him the splendour of theplace, looked up at his brother with a kind of romantic feeling for adisinherited knight, as he contrasted the scene with the counter andprinting-office.
The lane led to the village street, a very pretty one sloping upwards,and lying on each side of the Leston, which rippled along as clear ascrystal, crossed every here and there by foot-bridges, some wooden,some a single stone; while the cottages on the opposite side wereperched on a high shelf or terrace, and were approached by charmingirregular flights of stairs with low walls or balustrades. Over therail of one, smoking a pipe in summer evening enjoyment, was seenAbednego Tripp, with long nose, brown parchment cheeks, and lank hairnot yet grey--one of the genuine almost extinct species of parishclerk. As the carriage stopped, he began to descend, keys in hand, forthe church was a lion, and many carriages did stop there; but it wasnot till Felix jumped out and hailed him that he knew who were hisvisitors.
'Bless me, if it is not Master Felix after all! I did think you wasnever coming, Sir. And this is the young gentleman as has been so ill.You're kindly welcome, Sir. I think he'd favour poor Master Eddard ifhe didn't look so nesh.'
'I shall get well here,' said Lance. 'If it is not my native air, itought to be.'
'Will you come and rest a bit, Sir? or would you like to go to thechurch?'
'The church,' they said. Felix first explained what he knew would givepleasure--that they had come depending on him for a cup of tea, anda cast in his boat which was wont to convey the marketables of ValeLeston twice a week to Ewmouth.
Abednego sped up his stairs like a lamp-lighter, to cause hisgrand-daughter to make preparations, and was speedily down again,delighted to hear Felix prove his memory by inquiries after theinhabitants of the old dwellings.
'Ha! the Miss Hepburns!' said Felix, looking at a tall narrow housecompletely embowered in trailing roses, and with the rails of thebridge of entrance wreathed with clematis. 'Are they there still?'
'Oh yes, Sir, all the four on 'em; and a sight of good they does to thepoor!'
'I wonder whether I ought to call?' said Felix; 'they used to be verykind to me.'
'What, is that Rob's godmother, that never gave her anything but thatqueer name?' asked Lance.
'I shouldn't think they were rich,' said Felix. 'I fancy they usedto be very fond of my mother, and made her promise that the nextgirl should be named for one of them. There was Miss Bridget, andMiss Martha, and something else as bad, and Robina was the leastobjectionable of the lot. I think they used to write to my mother; butit is late in the day for calling.'
'Here comes Miss Bridget,' said the clerk, as there appeared in sighta tall, rigid, angular figure, with a big brown hat and long straightcloak, and a decidedly charity-looking basket in her hand.
Felix stepped forward with his hand to his hat. 'Miss Hepburn, Ibelieve. I must introduce myself--Felix Underwood.'
The lady's first move had been a startled shy drawing herself up andinto herself, at being addressed by a stranger. Then she looked up withan amazed 'Felix Underwood! Little Felix!' and as he smiled and bowed,she fumbled and put out a hesitating hand.
'Yes. Tripp did tell us something--something of your being at Ewmouth,but we were not sure.'
'We had not been able to come over before,' said Felix, thinking shemeant to imply that he ought to have called. 'We came for health andhave not been equal to the walk.'
'Oh, indeed. Nothing infectious, I hope?'
'Oh no,' he said, explaining in a few words the total want ofconnection between his case and Lance's.
'I am glad. I'll--I'll tell my sisters. I'm glad to have seen you.'
There was something faltering and ill-assured in her manner, and in amoment she turned back with 'Mr. Underwood, where are you stopping?'
He answered; and with 'I'll tell my sisters,' she parted with themagain.
'That's Miss Bridget,' commented old Tripp. 'She's the one as allyssays, "I'll tell my sisters." They do say as Miss Isabella, she be themaster on 'em all.'
Felix and Lance smiled to one another the assurance that every familyhad its Wilmet; but while the younger brother shrugged his shoulders,the elder felt a certain chill in the contrast with those days of old,when the sugar-plums and picture-books of the whole sisterhood were allat his service, and bethought him that times were changed.
They entered the churchyard by a little side-gate. The church was agrand pile of every style of architecture that had prevailed since theCistercians had settled in Vale Leston, and of every defacement thatthe alternate neglect and good-will of the Underwoods could perpetrate.The grand tower at the west end was, however, past their power tospoil, and they had not done much damage to the exterior, except in awindow or buttress here and there. But within! The brothers, used tothe heavy correctness of the St. Oswald's restoration, stood aghastwhen Abednego admitted them by the door of excommunication, straightinto the chancel, magnificently deep, but with the meanest of rails,a reredos where Moses and Aaron kept guard over the Commandments inblack and gold, and walls bristling with genii and angels of alldescriptions, weeping over Underwoods of different generations. Lancestood open-mouthed before a namesake of his own, whose huge monumentalslab was upborne by the exertions of a kind of Tartarean cherub, solelyconsisting of a skull and a pair of bats' wings!
'My stars! where did that brute come from?' muttered Lance under hisbreath. 'He's got no trifle of a piece of work!'
However, Felix had taken in that the chancel had respectablepoppy-headed benches, though the lower part of the church wascompletely 'emparoked in pues,' such as surprised Lance out of allbounds when he withdrew his eyes from the white marble death's head.
'My stars!' again he said, 'this is what I've heard of, but never saw.'
'Ay, Sir,' said Mr. Tripp, 'every one that come here do be crying outupon the pews; and to be sure, I see the folk sleepin' in them as isshameful!'
Well he might, for his place was the lowest in a lofty three-decker,against one pier of the chancel arch, surmounted by a golden angelblowing a trumpet, and with lettering round the sounding-board,recording it to have been the gift of the Reverend Lancelot Underwood,Rector and Vicar of this parish--the owner of the mural slab beforementioned. That angel recalled to Felix that the sight of it had be
enhis great pleasure in going to church, only marred by the fact that hewas out of sight of it in the chancel.
'Why, you weren't in the choir then?' said Lance.
'Choir! no, Sir,' said the clerk. 'They sits in the gallery. Thechancel is for Mr. Underwood's family--the Rector, Sir. They seats wasjust put up instead of the red baize pew before old Mr. Underwood aswas then died, and your poor papa went away. And that there font wasput, as 'tis there, just when the twin young ladies was christened.'
'Where was I christened, then?'
'In the bowl as we used to have on the Communion, Sir.'
It was plain how far Edward Underwood had dared to work at renovation,and that nothing had since been done. The Lady-chapel, with a wonderfulceiling of Tudor fans and pendants, was full of benches and raggedleaves of books for such Sunday schooling as took place there, thenational school having been built half a mile off, that the childrenmight not be obnoxious to the Rectory. The church was a good way behindthe ordinary churches of 1861, and struck the two brothers the morefrom the system in which they had been brought up.
'What a state Clem would be in!' uttered Lance, as they came out.
'It is of no use to think about it,' said Felix. 'Let us enjoy thebeautiful exterior.'
'Ay, Sir,' said old Tripp, 'parties do be saying as how it is a mortialpity to see such a church go to wrack; and I do believe the Squirewouldn't be so hard to move if it warn't for the Passon--that's youngMr. Fulbert, the vicar.'
'I don't understand all these rectors and vicars,' said Lance. 'Ithought they never hung out together.'
'Why, you see, Master Lancelot, as how this is what they calls a layrectory, as goes like a landed estate from father to son, without therebeing any call for 'em to be clergy; and the Vicar, he is just put into do Passon's work, only he gets his situation for life, like I do,not like them curates.'
'I see,' said Felix; 'and the rectors have generally taken Holy Orders,and presented themselves to the vicarage.'
'Yes, Sir, that's how it ought to be; only this here Squire--not beingno Passon, though Rector he be--he puts in a gentleman to keep it warmtill his son, young Mr. Fulbert, our Vicar as is, was growed up, andhard work they say it was to get him to bend his mind to 't; nor he'dnot have done it at last, but for his father's paying of his bills,and giving consent to his marrying Miss Shaw. And since that, blessyou, Sir, the curates have done nothing but change, change, change,till 'tis enough to ruin a good clerk. You knows what that is, MasterFelix, you that be one of the cloth.' (For Felix allowed himself nounprofessional coats.)
'It is only the cloth, Mr. Tripp; don't you see I sport a blue tie? Iam a bookseller.'
'A bookseller!' The old man recoiled. 'You'll not be passing your jokeson me, Sir. A book-writer--I understands.'
'No, a bookseller in earnest. I have a share in a very good business atBexley; I've been at it ever since I was sixteen.'
The old clerk was quite overcome; he leant upon a headstone and staredat Felix without speaking, and then it was a sort of soliloquy. 'Tothink of poor dear Master Eddard's son being come to that! and helooking a dozen times more like a clergyman and a gentleman than everthis young Mr. Fulbert will!'
'Never mind, Mr. Tripp,' said Felix; 'there's one of us on the way tobe a clergyman--Edward Clement, you know, that I wrote to you about;and maybe this fellow too. Don't look so angry with me. I was obligedto do the best I could to bring in something for the thirteen of us.'
'And we're as proud of him as can be!' added Lance, affectionately andindignantly.
'Ah, well,' said the old aristocrat, 'that may be, for you neverknew them he came of. There was my old Lady Geraldine, as was hisgreat-grandmother, who gave a new coat or new gown to every poor bodyin the parish at Christmas, and as much roast beef as they could eat;and wore a shawl as come from the Injies and cost two hundred pounds!She _was_ a lady! Bless me, what would she have said to see the day--'
'That she was glad to have a great-grandson good for something,'stoutly answered Lance. 'I declare, Mr. Tripp, you'd have liked himbetter if he had come a begging!'
'So I do,' said Felix; 'and what's more, Mr. Tripp is going to refuseme because he is too fine to sit down to tea with a tradesman!'
'No, no, sir,' said old Tripp, with tears in his eyes. 'You'll not gofor to say that. If it was the last morsel I had, I'd be proud to shareit with one of Master Eddard's sons; but I can't but think as how werung the bells and drunk your health when you was born, just as we didfor the Prince of Wales, and how proud poor Master Eddard looked. Nodoubt he was spared the knowing of it.'
'No,' said Felix, 'it was settled with his full consent.'
Abednego seemed more distressed than ever. 'Poor Master Eddard! he musthave been brought very low. Such a gentleman as he was! Never spoke aproud or rude word, Sir, but used to hold up his head like the firstlord in the land, and fire and colour up and start like one of youngMr. Fulbert's thoroughbreds if any one said an impudent word.'
'That no one ever ventured,' said Felix. 'He was as much respected atBexley--yes, and is still--as ever he could be here. I wish you couldsee my brother Edgar, he is more like him than either of us. Ah, here'sthe old garden gate, I wish we could go into the shrubbery.'
Tripp was rather for trying it. He said the gardeners would be gonehome, and the elder master at dinner--the younger, with his wife,was absent; but Felix could not bear the sense of spying, though hedid not withhold Lance from a rush into the garden paths, where hedid not discover much. Then they looked into the eddy at the meetingof the waters; and turning back to Tripp's neatest of kitchens, werethere regaled upon shrimps, rashers hissing from the fire, and thepeculiar native species of hot-buttered cake, which Felix recollectedas viewed in the nursery as the _ne plus ultra_ of excellence, probablybecause it was an almost prohibited dainty. Lance was in his element,delighting himself and Miss Kerenhappuch Tripp by assisting her totoast, to butter, and even to wash up, calling Felix to witness that healways helped Cherry in the holidays; when just as they were rising toseek the boat, Mr. Staples came climbing up the steps.
'I thought I should find you here,' he said. 'Mr. Underwood very muchwishes you would come and spend the rest of the evening with him.'
'The old humbug!' burst out Lance. 'You won't go, will you, Felix?'
Felix thought a moment, then walked with Mr. Staples to the cornerof the narrow ledge in front of the cottage. 'Mr. Staples,' he said,'I know nothing about it. I trust to you to tell me whether this mantreated my father so that I ought not to accept attention from him.'
'Hm? ha? I should not say so. He treated him unkindly, ungenerously,but he hardly knew how much so, and he had the letter of the law on hisside. I verily believe he regrets it, and that your father, being whathe was, would be the last to wish you to hold aloof.'
'Most likely,' said Felix. 'I am sure he forgave whatever there was toforgive.'
'It is not my doing, I assure you. He spoke of your letters that hadgone astray, and that led to more, till when he found you were in thevillage, he said he should like to see you. He is breaking up; his sonhas given him a good deal of trouble, and I believe he is altogetherconcerned for what has passed.'
'And he will not suppose we want anything from him?' said Felix, withsomething of the almost unavoidable pride of independent poverty.
'Certainly not. I have guarded against that.'
'Then I suppose we must.--That is, how is your head? are you too muchtired, Lance?'
'No,' said Lance, almost sulkily; for he was much inclined to makefatigue a plea for escaping the 'mane nagur' and enjoying the boat, andwas rather unreasonably disposed to think it all a plot on the part ofMr. Staples for spoiling the evening. Felix might have been equallyglad of the excuse, but he believed his father would have thoughtthis act of conciliation a duty, and followed Mr. Staples acrossthe churchyard, where all the little boys in the place seemed to beplaying marbles on the flagged paths. Its neglected state was a painfulcontrast to the exquisitely laid-out shrubbery, a
s trim as gardenerscould make it, and improved and altered beyond Felix's recognition.
Entering the house, Mr. Staples led the way to the dining-room,where there was a large empty table in the middle of the room, andin the deep bay of the window a smaller one, laid out with wine anddessert, where sat 'old Fulbert.' Having always heard him so called,the brothers were surprised to find him no more than elderly. He musthave been originally a thorough florid handsome Underwood, and had theremains of military bearing, though with an air of feebleness and wantof health, and a good deal of asthmatic oppression on his breath. Hedid not rise, but held out his hand, saying, 'Good evening. Thank youfor coming to see a sick man.'
'I am sorry to see you so unwell, Sir.'
'Thank you, I'm on the mend. Sit down. Take a glass of wine--claret?'
Felix accepted, wondering if his father would regard it as an act ofpardon.
'And you?'
'No thank you, Sir.'
'No wine? You are the one that has been so ill? No objection to melon,eh?'
And Lancelot, whose illness had left a strong hankering for fruit, wasconsiderably appeased by the first cut into the cool buff flesh.
'Is he the next brother to you?'
'Oh no. There are three brothers and three sisters between us.'
'And what are they doing? There were one or two with Tom Underwood.Didn't the young fellow offend him and turn out idle?'
'Not that, Sir,' said Felix, his colour rising: 'but he had no turnfor a clerkship, and a good deal for art. He is studying at the RoyalAcademy; but there never was any quarrel; he is often at ThomasUnderwood's.'
'And the rest?'
'One has the Ewshire Scholarship at St. Cadoc's; and there's one inAustralia.'
'And this lad--what's his name?'
'Lancelot. He is in the choir school at Minsterham Cathedral, and hopesto get a scholarship.'
'Is that all of you?'
'Two more boys, quite little, and the six girls.'
'Any of them able to do anything for themselves?'
'The eldest is a teacher in a school at Bexley,' said Felix, notdelighted with the cross-examination; 'and Alda, the one that livedwith the Tom Underwoods, is engaged to a man of good fortune. Then twoof the younger ones are at schools, where an allowance is made for poorclergymen's daughters.'
'How long has your mother been dead?'
'Four years and a half.'
'And you have managed all single-handed?'
'With my eldest sister's help, Sir.'
'Taken to the press, have you?' (Mr. Staples must have made the best ofhis vocation.) 'What's your paper?'
'The Bexley Pursuivant. Most likely you never heard of it. It is onlya little county paper;' and then feeling that to stop there was asubterfuge, he added, 'Our main business is the retail trade.'
Mr. Underwood was chiefly intent on the next question, the politics ofthe paper, though he said he need hardly ask. 'All you young stuck-upfellows run in one team--all destructives.'
'No, no, Sir,' broke in Mr. Staples eagerly. 'Mr. Felix is staunch tothe back-bone.'
Felix was never more tempted to deny his principles than when he foundthem brought forward as a recommendation; but he could only explainthat the Pursuivant was an old established county gentleman's styleof paper, in the agricultural interest. Whereupon the Squire mountedhis political hobby in such sort and with such abusive violence,especially as to the local representatives of the adverse party, thatFelix could not help feeling that if such were indeed the opinions ofhis own side, he should certainly be on the other. One good effect wasthe sparing him any more personal catechizing. Mr. Underwood shoutedhimself weary, without requiring any reply save what Mr. Staple's localknowledge supplied; and when the carriage was announced, the guestswere dismissed with a hearty shake of the hands, and invitation to callagain--'It was a comfort to talk of public matters to a young man ofsense;' and Lance found a sovereign in his hand. He was not sure thathe was obliged.
'Well,' said Mr. Staples, rubbing his hands with satisfaction as theydrove off, 'what do you think of the Squire?'
'He talks very loud,' said Felix, who had for some time been watchingthe increase of Lance's head-ache, and now was trying to give him arest on shoulder and arm.
Mr. Staples gave what help he could towards making the tired boycomfortable, and then returned to the subject in all their minds. 'Soyour father never told you those particulars?'
'No; I think it was his great object not to dwell on them, nor let uslook back with regret or anger.'
'Just like him. I never saw such a case, never! I'll show you aremarkable letter of his. But, first, you ought to understand the waythe matter stood. To begin with the relationship.'
'I know nothing about them, only that my father and mother weresecond cousins; but I don't even know to which of them my great-uncleUnderwood was really uncle.'
'To your mother. He had very strong feelings as to the duty of the headof a family, and made his house a home for all that needed it. WhenMiss Mary was sent home an orphan from India--James's, his favouritebrother's, child--he asked his cousin's widow, Mrs. Edward Underwood,to bring her boy, superintend the house, and look after the littlegirl; and she was glad enough, for the captain had died of his woundsat Waterloo, and she had little but her widow's pension.'
'I know,' said Felix. 'Then whose son is the Squire?'
'The son of Lancelot, who was the second brother, between the ReverendFulbert (your great-uncle) and James, your mother's father. So he washeir-at-law, but he was a wildish sort of lad, unfit to take HolyOrders; and there came to be an understanding that if his uncle wouldbuy his commission and purchase his steps, he would not look for theRectory and the estate. On that understanding your father took Ordersand married; but on old Mr. Underwood's death there was only a draughtof a will, which he had not been in a state to execute, leaving ahandsome legacy to Fulbert, but the whole property to your father andmother. It seemed a matter of course that, as the only compensation,Fulbert should have presented his cousin Edward to the vicarage--L400 ayear; but as ill-luck would have it, he took offence at some sermon--aLent one about self-indulgence, I believe it was--swore he wouldn'thave a Puseyite parson preaching at him, and went into such a rage,that it is thought to be partly by way of getting off giving him theliving, and getting it held for his son.'
'I see,' said Felix.
'It was a dirty trick; and I was a younger man at the time, and itstruck me that if your father chose to try the case, the testator'sintentions being clear, and instructions in his own hand extant, it wasten to one it might be given in his favour. I even took a counsel'sopinion, thinking that at any rate an intimation that the case was tobe tried before possession was given up, might bring Fulbert to termswith regard to the living.'
'And he would not?'
'No. I should like to show you his letter. Would you do me the honourof dining with me to-morrow?'
Felix was obliged to mutter something about ladies and no dress-coats;but this was silenced, and he made a promise contingent on Lance'sfitness. He was puzzled by the relations in which Mr. Staples seemed tostand with the lay-rector; but he found that they were not of business,only that elections, and county affairs, brought them together, andthat Mr. Underwood was regarded with a sort of compassion by the menof his own standing, who used to go and visit him whenever they couldbe secure of not encountering the cold welcome and ill-breeding of hisdaughter-in-law--the grievance of his life.
'Did you see any one you remembered?' further asked Mr. Staples.
'One of the Miss Hepburns, who did not seem very well to know whetherto acknowledge me or not.'
'Ha, ha!' chuckled Mr. Staples. 'Queer old girls they are. Very high.Very good to the poor. All the good that is done in Vale Leston is bythem; but anything between a swell and a pauper don't exist for them.They're as poor as Job, and their pride is all they have, so they makethe most of it.'
So, after all, the day had not been quite without mortification, andFel
ix felt it a little more than he thought it was worth.
Lance was a good deal excited by the sight of his ancestral home. Hehad an eye for scenery, and longed to bask in it again; boating seemeddelightful; and he was amazed, not to say elated, by the grandeurof the house, which exceeded any--save Centry Park--in his limitedexperience. His mind was set on explorations there, and on the wholehistory; while Felix, to whom all was less new and more sorrowful, wasinclined to hang back from any unwise awakening of unsettling regrets;but there was no declining Mr. Staples' kindness, and he had muchdesire to see the letter. So the two youths put on their Sunday coats,assisted one another's ties, and looked each other well over beforeencountering the formidable mass of ladies Felix had seen in church,and about whom he was far more shy than Lance, who had seen a good dealmore of the species at Minsterham.
It turned out very pleasant; the frank good-natured mother anddaughters made themselves very agreeable; and though no one was aspretty as Alice Knevett, they were all so far superior to her in mannerand cultivation that the mixing with them could not fail to softenany sting of disappointment that might remain. Lance was made much ofas an invalid, and very much liked the privileges that did not hinderan evening game of croquet, since Mr. Staples evidently intended hisconference with Felix to be _tete-a-tete_.
It took place in a pleasant little study, fitted with green morocco andwalnut, that spoke well for the solicitor's taste and prosperity, andlooking out on the pretty lawn, with the long shadows of the trees, thecroquet players flitting about, and the sea glittering in the distance.
The letter was ready, folded up lengthwise and docketed, businessfashion; but when opened, the familiar handwriting seemed to bring backthe father, even to the sound of his voice.
Vale Leston Rectory, 18th January.
MY DEAR STAPLES,
My wife and I feel greatly obliged to you for your good-will and zeal on our behalf, and have not for a moment justified your dread of being thought officious. In other circumstances, I might be tempted to fight the battle; but it is impossible for several reasons. Were we the losers, we should be totally unable to pay the costs, and a load either of debt or obligation would be a burthen we have no right to assume. Moreover, the uncertainty of our position pending the decision would be as mischievous to myself as to the parishioners. It would destroy any fitness to be their Vicar, whether we gained or not. The holding the Rectory is in itself an abuse; and now that the grapes are sour, I am glad not to encounter the question of conscience, and so shall not adopt any means--to my mind doubtful--for bringing it on myself. This being the case, you will see that the idea of alarming Fulbert Underwood falls to the ground. Supposing he were coerced into the compromise, what a pleasing pair--squire and parson--would be the result! No, my kind friend, be content to see things remain as they are. We carry with us the certainty of our good uncle's kindness, and the non-fulfilment of his intentions is clearly providential. I have heard of a promising curacy, where I shall get the training I need after feeling my wilful way as I have done here. My wife, being the expectant heiress and lay-rectoress, shall write to satisfy you that she is not suffering from my coercion.
Yours, most sincerely obliged, E. F. UNDERWOOD.
And on another sheet followed:--
DEAR MR. STAPLES,
I think my husband is quite right, and that to go to law would only make things much worse. It is very kind in you, but I really do not care about anything so long as I have my husband and children, and can feel that my dear uncle meant all that was kind. Indeed, I really think my husband enjoys the prospect of a new and more active kind of work. He is sure to be happy anywhere, and as long as that is the case, all will be right; and he says that it will be much better for the children not to grow up in luxury.
With many warm thanks, Yours very truly, M. W. UNDERWOOD.
'May I copy them?' asked Felix, looking up with his eyes fuller oftears than suited his reserved disposition.
His father's letter, full of his constant brave cheerfulness inself-abnegation, had not overcome him like the few words that broughtback the lovely young mamma he now remembered at Vale Leston, butwhom he had too soon known only as the patient, over-tasked, drudgingmother, and latterly in the faded helpless invalid. How little she hadguessed the life that was before her!
Mr. Staples readily supplied him with the materials, adding, 'I willtake care you have the letters by-and-by. I value them too much to partwith them in my lifetime.' And presently he interrupted Felix's writingby saying, 'I much wished to have seen Mr. and Mrs. Edward Underwoodagain, but it seemed to me that they were unwilling to keep up acorrespondence.'
'They were so busy,' said Felix.
'No doubt; and I thought they might feel a visit an intrusion.Otherwise, I often thought of running down from Town.'
'My father would have been very glad.'
'I did wish to have seen him again--and your mother, almost a child asshe was even at that time, with her flock of pretty children. I shallnever forget her--the beauty and darling of all the neighbourhood, asshe used to be. All we young men used to rave about her long beforeshe was out.' Mr. Staples smiled at some recollection, and added, 'Inever spoke to her four times in my life; but I was as bad as any ofthem--presumptuous as you may think it.'
'I am glad you did not see her again,' burst from Felix, the tearsstarting forth as he copied her hopeful words. 'She altered sadly.'
'Ah! indeed.'
The concerned tone forced Felix to add, 'It came so much more heavilyon her than on any of us, care and work and years of seeing my father'shealth failing; and in the last week of his life she had a fall, thatbrought on softening of the brain.'
Somehow, the whole had never struck him as so piteous before as in thecontrast with her youthful brightness, and when he saw Mr. Staplesgreatly affected. He could only write on through a mist of tears,while the solicitor walked about the room, blowing his nose violently,and muttering sentences never developed; till at last he came behindFelix's chair, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said, 'After all,it will come round. You are next heir.'
'Heir? There's Fulbert Underwood!' exclaimed Felix.
'True; but he's been some years married, and there's no sign of afamily. Depend upon it, we shall see Vale Leston come back yet.'
'It would make no difference now,' muttered Felix, as he traced hismother's fearless lines; nay, if he had a personal thought, it was ofwhat he might have ventured towards Alice Knevett.
'Not to them,' said Mr. Staples, 'but a good deal to you, my youngfriend.'
'Now, Mr. Staples,' said Felix, smiling, 'aren't you doing our best tounsettle a young man in business?'
'Well, well, you are too reasonable. A contingency--only a contingency.But I should like to show you.' And he hastily sketched a pedigree thathad at least the advantage of showing Felix his relationships.
Rev. Lancelot. |_____________________________________________2 | | | |Rev. Fulbert. Lancelot. | | | 2 3 | 2Rev. Fulbert.____Lancelot.____James U. Lancelot._______Thomas.d. 1843. | | | | | | | | Fulbert. Mary Wilmet. Thomas. Rev. Edward. | m. Edward U. m. Mary Kedge. m. Mar
y Wilmet | | | Underwood. ev. Fulbert. | | Felix, &c. Mary Alda Underwood.
'There! Through your mother you stand next in the line--areheir-at-law, you see. May I live to see that day! That's all.'
The thought did not affect Felix much at the moment. He was too full ofwhat might have been, and the 'contingency' was such a remote one! Soafter answering to the best of his ability whether any of his sisterswere like his mother, he was glad to get out, and forget it all incroquet. His musical capacities were discovered too; but the attemptto profit by them proved quite too much for Lance, to whose brain thenotes of the piano were absolute and severe pain.
A formal little note came on the ensuing morning, in which 'the MissesHepburn'--in the third person--requested the favour of the company ofMr. Felix Underwood and his brother at luncheon. Felix felt a littlestung. He could recollect warm passages between the ladies and hismother, and had been their pet long enough to wonder at this coldreception, and question whether it were not more dignified to rejectadvances made in such a manner; but his heart yearned towards thosewho had been kind to him in his youth, and he believed that his motherwould have wished him to renew the intercourse, and therefore decidedupon going; but it was too hot and sunny a day for Lance to walk, andFelix so entirely expected the visit to be wearisome and disagreeable,if not mortifying, that he could only resolve on it as a duty, andwould not expose his brother to it.
So he plodded off alone, and a curious visit he had. It was not easyfor him to guess at the sacredness of those traditions of gentility andsuperiority that the 'Misses Hepburn' held--not so much for their ownsakes as in faithful loyalty to the parents many years dead, and tothe family duty that imposed a certain careful exclusiveness on themin deference to the noble lineage they could reckon, and the head ofthe house, whom none of them had ever seen. He could not have guessedthe warm feeling towards 'dear Mary' that had struggled so hard withthe sense of duty, and had gained the victory over the soreness at thedropping of correspondence, and the idea that it was a dereliction tobend to one 'who had lowered himself,' as Mrs. Fulbert Underwood saidhe had.
What he saw was a tiny drawing-room, full of flowers and gimcracks, andfuller of four tall angular women, in dark dresses in the rear of thefashion, and sandy hair. They had decided in council, or rather MissIsabella had decided for them, that since he was to be received, theywould remember only his gentle blood; and therefore they shook handswith him, and the difference of the clasp alone could have shown thedifference of character--the patronising, the nervous, the tenderlyagitated, the hearty.
He found them better informed than the Squire had been as to thecondition of the family--at least, so he presumed from the text oftheir inquiries. Not a word did they say of his own employment--itwas to be treated as a thing not to be spoken of; but the welfare ofthe others was inquired after, and especially of Robina--who was thename-child of the eldest sister, the gentlest of the set, and the mostin the background, quiet and tearful--pleased to hear that her godchildwas at school, and as Felix emphatically said 'a very good girl,'anxious that he should take charge of 'a little token' for her.
The little token turned out to be 'Ministering Children'; and this gaveFelix a further hint, which prepared him for the tone in which some ofhis information was received, when he had only mentioned Geraldine asgone for health's sake to the St. Faith's Sisterhood.
The ladies looked at one another, Miss Isabella cleared her throat, andhe knew a warning was coming; so he quickly said, 'One of the ladies,a clergyman's widow, was very kind to my father in his illness, and isreally the best friend we have left in England.'
'Your dear father was too much inclined to those specious doctrinesthat are only too fascinating to youth. I hope you do not outrun him.'
'I hope not,' said Felix, very sincerely; and he then succeeded ininteresting his monitor by speaking of Fulbert, and using him as abridge to lead to an account of Mr. Audley's Australian doings.
It was altogether a stiff uncomfortable visit; the very politenessof the good ladies made Felix feel that they viewed his position asaltered, and he could not but feel a strong hope that he should neveragain have to make this offering at the shrine of ancient friendship.
On coming home in the evening, Felix found a note on the table.
'Croquet to wit?' asked Lance, as Felix tried to read it by the almostvanished twilight.
'What's this?'
'We hope you and your brother will join us in a pic-nic at Kitt's Head on Saturday.
'Having discharged my ladies' commission, I proceed to that which I have authority from your relation for intimating to you--namely, that failing heirs of his own son, he has entailed the Vale Leston property upon you, thus rendering its alienation by the Reverend Fulbert impossible. I believe the arrangement was made within the last week. Congratulations would hardly be suitable, but I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of saying how sincerely I rejoice.'
'What--what?' cried Lance, jumping up. 'You to have that splendiferousriver, and the salmons, and all. Won't you get a magnificent organ forthat church?'
'My dear Lance, don't you see that all this means is, that if youngFulbert has no children, I shall come after him.'
'Oh, he won't! I'm sure he won't. Things always do come right. Oh, whata _coup d'etat_ mine was after all! Things always do come right. You,that were born to it! Didn't old Tripp say how they had had the bellsrung for you? I should like to set them going this minute!'
'They should be on your own cap, then!' said Felix, laughing and yetsharing in a castle or two--how Cherry should have a pony-carriage! howClement should be turned loose upon the Church! how Lance should pursuethe salmon at home and the humanities at the University! how Bernardshould have a real good gentleman's education!--but Felix soon broughthimself back again. 'Remember, Lance, not a word of this at home oranywhere else.'
'Not tell any one?' cried the boy, crest-fallen.
'Don't you see, Lance, besides the impropriety of talking of whatinvolves two deaths, it would be the most senseless thing in the worldto let this make the least difference. Old Fulbert may change his mind,or young Fulbert have a son; at any rate, he is not five-and-thirty,and just as likely as not to outlive me.'
'Fee! Fee! you are quite well, you wretched Norseman!'
'Oh! I didn't mean _that;_ but anybody may outlive anybody for thatmatter. Anyway, there's no chance of any of these schemes coming topass while we are young enough to care, even if they ever do; and ifthey unsettle us now, it would be unmitigated damage.'
'I see that,' said Lance; 'but as, by good luck, I'm No. 8, it can't dome much harm to think about it, and I don't see why the others shouldnot.'
'Do you think some of them would be content to go on as we are doing,with this in their heads? And if any one in the town knew it, whateverI might do, people would think I was getting above my business. I doubtwhether even Froggy himself would have the same reliance on me.'
'Then shan't you even tell Wilmet and Cherry?'
'I hope not. I don't think Wilmet could keep it from Alda, or Cherryfrom Edgar; and just imagine what it would be to have it come roundthrough Kensington Palace Gardens that we were reckoning on it!Besides, it will make no earthly difference to anybody, unless, maybe,to Edgar's son.'
The mention of such a being brought Felix somehow to a sudden silence;and in the meantime supper and a candle were brought in, revealing athick letter from Geraldine, which had at first escaped notice. Therewere two enclosures; but as Felix read her writing, he broke out withan exclamation of consternation that startled Lance.
'Hollo! What is it?' And as he received no answer--'Wilmet's notgiven up Jack? Eh? Nor Cherry fallen in love next? Clem hasn't turnedbare-footed friar?' crowding together the wildest suggestions he couldthink of to force answer.
> 'Hush! That dear child--'
'She doesn't want to be a sister? You'll tell her you'd see her atJericho first!'
'No. It is about her foot.'
'Not worse?'
'No; but, dear little thing, she wants to have it taken off, becauseshe fancies if she was more effective, it might be one difficulty outof Wilmet's way!'
'She's a blessed little brick! But would it be so?'
'Well, I remember in the time of the measles, the last time I ever letthat fellow Rugg come near her, he thought proper to tell somebody inher hearing that if she was in a fit state of health, it would be theonly remedy. She wasn't, and it was quite uncalled for; and it put thepoor little thing in such an agony, that at last Sibby came and wrappedme up in a blanket to sit by her, and talk very big about nobody beingable to do it without my leave, and my not intending to consent to anysuch thing. I thought she had forgotten all about it, but it seems thatshe has not; and she imagines that, as she says, "with a cork foot thatI could stand upon, instead of always keeping this one up in fear ofhurting it, I could get about the house with only a stick, and be ofsome use, and then dear Mettie's happiness might not be so far off."'
'And what does Mettie say?'
'She knows nothing; Cherry implores me not to tell her, for she saysthat it would be impossible for Mettie to come and nurse her, and shewould rather have Sister Constance than any one.'
'Than Mettie! Deluded child!' cried Lance.
'Her great wish is to have it done now at St. Faith's. She told Clementbefore she left home, because she thought they would insist on someone at home knowing; but "Don't think me very sly," she says; "I wouldnot tell Sister Constance what was in my head till I came here, forfear she should think it her duty to speak to Wilmet; and now, theywill not hear of it without your knowing. I did wish to have surprisedyou all! About the cost I have thought. You know Dr. Lee attends mefor nothing while I am here, and I told you that Sister Constance hassent up all my book of illustrations of Queen Isabel, and some of thewater-coloured drawings, to her sister, Lady Liddesdale, and how muchshe has been getting for them--quite enough to set me up with a footthat will not be half such a nuisance as this old dead-alive one, whichhas never let me have any peace these twelve years. I am trying to begood; but indeed I feel as if it might be wrong to try to be rid of mycross. So I abide by your decision, dear Felix. You are my king, and Iput myself in your hands; only you must not be anxious. You should haveknown nothing if I could have helped it."'
'Go on,' grunted Lance, with his face hidden, as Felix paused.
'That's all; but here are notes from Sister Constance and Dr. Lee.'
The Sister's explanation was, that it had been entirely Geraldine's ownthought, and that her willingness and eagerness made a great differencein such a nature as hers. She told Felix not to think of coming--thefewer the better; and he could come in a few hours in case of need.It was advisable that the decision should be made quickly, since tonervous sensitiveness like Cherry's the very effort to bear suspensereacted on the bodily frame. 'If you know what I mean,' concludedSister Constance, 'heroism is likely to carry the little creaturethrough what would be far more trying if this were proposed to her forher own sake.'
And Dr. Lee's letter gave the medical view, decidedly inclining to theopinion that the probabilities were in favour of the operation, andthat the conditions were never likely to be more promising than atpresent.
'Dear child! I wish I were there!'
'Can't we go?'
'What, you? Think of the train.'
Lance shook his head. 'Couldn't I stay by myself, and you run up?'
'I don't think I can help it.'
But the excitement of the evening broke Lance's sleep, and the next dayhe was quite ill; while Felix not only saw that he must not be left,but perceived after the first that Sister Constance's warning ought tobe respected, and that an arrival would only agitate Cherry's nerves.So he wrote his sanction with a very heavy heart, betraying as littleemotion as was consistent with the tenderness so essential to supportbrave but fragile little Geraldine.
The anxiety seemed to have swallowed up the recollection of Mr.Staples' message; indeed, it was not willingly that Felix answered hisnote, and made a half engagement to the pic-nic.
Felix was struck by seeing how much, under the circumstances, Lancemissed the daily service to which he had been used all his life.
'I didn't mind it at first,' said the chorister, 'it seemed a part ofthe holiday; but somehow the day seems all stupid and astray withoutit.'
But there was no church with it to be heard of; and indeed one attempton Sunday at East Ewmouth resulted in Lance's collapsing into someof his most distressing symptoms, caused, as he declared, by theoverpowering might and untuneableness of the singing, but quite badenough to make Felix resolve against permitting further experiments,and thus walk off by himself on the next Wednesday forenoon when heheard the bell.
There was a long lecture that he had not bargained for; and when hecame out with a slightly impatient impulse, the first thing he saw wasa blue umbrella, a white hat, and a hand waving a paper. In silenceFelix read--
'Constance Somerville to Felix Underwood.--11.30. Favourably over. No cause for anxiety.'
They were rather grave and awe-struck, and scarcely spoke all the wayhome--indeed, Felix was chiefly thinking how to get Lance home outof the sun without hurrying or over-heating him; but after dinnercame a reaction; the boy went frantic with admiration of a beautifulyacht that was standing into the bay; and Felix, with his letter toSister Constance to write, one to Australia to finish, and his leadingarticles to draw up, was forced to command peace in something of theold rough-and-ready style; and even when Lance vanished, he was to beheard singing scraps of comic songs in the distance.
By-and-by he came in carrying a board taller than himself. 'Please yourMajesty, I'll be as mute as a mole; but I must do this here, for Mrs.Pettigrew is baking.'
'What in the name of wonder have you got there?' asked Felix, asLance proceeded to lay his board on the sofa (his day--and Felix'snight--bed) and place on it a white and soppy mass.
'A little dab out, as Sibby calls it,' said Lance. 'It's my puggery.Ever since it fell overboard it has been a disgrace to human nature, soI have been washing it, and now I've got an iron heating.'
'What a mess you will make of it!' observed Felix, with a grimace ofdisgust, as Lance returned again from the kitchen, holding the ironscientifically near his cheek.
'That's all you know about it! Why, I've ironed dozens ofpocket-handkerchiefs--at least, not dozens, but my own, dozens oftimes--in the Harewood tubs.'
'I thought the Chapter washed you?'
'So it does, in reason; but last spring there was a doom on mypocket-handkerchiefs. The Harewood puppy ate up one; one dropped intothe canal; I tied up a fellow that had got a cut with one, and thebeggar never returned it; and two or three more went I don't know how.I knew W. W. would be in a dreadful state if I asked for a fresh lot,so I used to wash out the last two by turns, till I got some tip andbought some fresh ones--such jolly ones, all over acrobats and Britishflags; and after all, didn't I catch it? Wilmet was no end of disgustedto miss her little stupid speckotty ones, vowed these weren't decentfor the Cathedral, and boned them all for Theodore! Now, hush! or Ishall come to grief!'
Felix held his pen suspended to watch the dexterity that reduced thecrude mass to smooth muslin, which in its expanded state looked asimpracticable as before.
'Now, do you mean to get Mrs. Pettigrew to put it on in those elegantfestoons?'
'You just mind your leader, Blunderbore! A man who has had women to dofor him all his life is a pitiable being!'
And Lance, according to instructions obtained from John Harewood,wreathed his hat triumphantly in the white drapery, and completedFelix's surprise and amusement by producing a needle and thread, andsetting to work on various needful repairs of his own buttons and hisbrother's, over which he shook his head in amusement as he
chuckled atthe decay which had befallen the garments of so neat a personage asFelix, and which had been very distressing to himself.
'Ah! thank you. I never knew what Robinson Crusoe felt like before!'said Felix, as Lance came on a wrist-band minus button.
'Robinson Crusoe! You'd soon have been like Man Friday before he caughthim.'
'But doesn't the matron mend for you?'
'She pretends; but I should like to see her face if one brought hera chance thing to do. My eyes! if that isn't old Staples! I mustabsquattilate.'
Which after all he had no time to effect, with all his works, beforetheir friend came to ask whether they were relieved about their sister,and was amused at the handy little schoolboy's ingenious preparations.'After all, I find it is to be more of an affair than I expected; Ithought it was to be only ourselves and the Brandons, but they are thekind of people who always pick up every one.'
'Does that yacht belong here?' eagerly asked Lance.
'That! It is the Kittiwake--Captain Audley's.'
'Ha! That's what Fulbert went to Alexandria in! What fun!'
'He is the son of Sir Robert Audley. Do you know him?'
'His brother was my father's fellow-curate,' said Felix, 'and is ourguardian and kindest friend. I have seen this one in London. Will he beat this pic-nic?'
'Not likely. He is shy and uncertain, very hearty and friendly whenyou do meet him, but reluctant to go into society, and often takingno notice one day, when he has seemed like one's best friend the daybefore. They say he has never got over the loss of his wife; but Idon't like such manners.'
'Does he live here, then?'
'He rents the little Tudor cottage under the cliff year by year, forthe sake of his yachting--for he won't go near the regular stations.He's got his boy at school at Stoneborough, and stays here all thewinter.'
When the brothers were walking part of the way back with their visitor,they met the gentleman in question, with three boys after him, andhe was evidently in a cordial mood; for after shaking hands with Mr.Staples, he exclaimed, 'I am sure I ought to know you!'
'Felix Underwood,' said the owner of that name.
'_Indeed!_ Not staying with your worthy relations?'
'No, I am down here with my brother, who has been laid up by asun-stroke, and wanted sea air.'
'I wish I had been at home' said the Captain, who had taken a greatfancy to Felix when they had been together in London two yearsbefore; 'but I've been giving my boy and his cousins, the two youngSomervilles, a trip to the Hebrides; and now, just as I am come home, Ifall upon Mrs. Brandon, hounding me out to an abominable pic-nic, andmy youngsters are wild to go. Are you in for it? I believe we shall goround to the cove in the yacht. Can I take you two?'
Felix gladly accepted, aware that their transport was a difficultyto the Stapleses, and that the Kittiwake would be felicity to Lance,who had fraternized with the boys, and went off with them to see thevessel. He returned brimful of delight and fatigue, only just in timeto tumble into bed as fast as possible, and Felix was thus able to gethis work off his mind by midnight.
The morning's letters set them quite at rest. Sister Constance andClement both wrote: Geraldine had been calm and resolute from thetime Felix's consent arrived, and doubt was over; and Clement, thoughtender, and striving hard to be firm, had been chiefly useful incalling out her words of encouragement. He had spent the time of theoperation in the oratory, and there had been so entirely overcome bythe tidings that all was safely over, that he was hardly fit to go toCherry when he was sent for; and that was not soon, for the effect ofchloroform on her had indeed been to annihilate pain, but only halfto make her unconscious, for she went on talking to Felix about theexpedience all the time, ever repeating the old motto, 'Under Wode,Under Rode;' and the trance had lasted for a good while, though whenonce over, she remembered nothing of it, and was only so rejoiced andthankful, that it was difficult to keep her calm enough. She sent herbrothers her love, and entreated them not to say a word at home. LadyLiddesdale had contrived the sale of the book of illustrations--a workthat had been Cherry's delight of many years; so that she could feelthat she herself had earned what would cover the expense incurred, allbut the medical attendance, freely given to an inmate of St. Faith's.'Tell Felix I am as happy as a queen,' was the final message; 'tell himto give thanks for me.'
Felix's voice trembled, shook, and gave way, as he read; and at last hesprang up, and walked about the room, saying that no one ever had suchbrothers and sisters as himself. There was something almost oppressivein the relief from so much anxiety, and it was some time before heroused his ordinary senses to say, 'Well! we must finish breakfast, orwe shan't be ready for the Captain. How round the world is! Those boysmust be Sister Constance's nephews--Lady Liddesdale's sons.'
'Those boys,' said Lance. 'What, Sum and Frank? Well, I did think itqueer that the sailors on board the Kittiwake called every one My Lord.'
'Sum, I imagine, must mean Lord Somerville. What did you think of them?'
'Nicish chaps of eleven and twelve. Nothing like such swells as TomBruce! The little one wanted to know where I was at school, and hissenior snubbed him; so I supposed he saw by the looks of me that Iwasn't upper-crust public school; and when I said I was a choir-boy,the other--Charlie Audley--said, "Oh, then you're one of the awful lotmy father always jaws about when he's out of sorts!" I told him I wasvery sorry, and it wasn't my fault, but yours; and then we got on likea house on fire.'