CHAPTER VIII.
A NIGHT SAIL.
POOR Tom Sedley! The little excitement of parting with the bull-neckedkeeper of his "garden of beauty", over, his spirits sank. He could notact the unconscious tourist again, and re-commit the premeditatedmistake of the morning. His exclusion was complete.
Tom Sedley paid a visit that day at Hazelden, and was depressed, anddull, and absent to such a degree, that Miss Charity Etherage, after hehad gone away, canvassed the matter very earnestly, and wondered whetherhe was quite well, and hoped he had not had bad news from London.
I don't know how Tom got over all that day; but at about four o'clock,having paid his penny at the toll-gate of the pier of Cardyllian, he waspacing up and down that breezy platform, and discussing with himself thepossibility of remaining for another Sunday, on the chance of againseeing the Malory ladies in church. Lifting up his eyes, in hismeditation, he saw a cutter less than a mile away, making swiftly forthe pierhead, stooping to the breeze as she flew, and beating up thespray in sparkling clouds from her bows. His practised eye recognised ata glance the _Wave_, the victorious yacht of Cleve Verney. With thisbreeze it was a run without a tack from Ware jetty.
In less than five minutes she furled her sails, and dropped anchor closeto the pier stair, and Cleve Verney in another minute stepped upon itfrom his punt.
"You're to come back in her, to Ware, this evening," said he, as theyshook hands. "I'm so glad I've found you. I've to meet a friend at theVerney Arms, but our talk won't take very long; and how have you beenamusing yourself all day? Rather slow, isn't it?"
Tom Sedley told his story.
"Well, and what's the _name_?" inquired Cleve.
"I can't tell; they don't know at the hotel; the Etherages don't know. Iasked Castle Edwards, and _he_ doesn't know either," said Sedley.
"Yes, but the fellow, the servant, who turned you out at Malory----"
"He did not turn me out. I was _going_," interrupted Tom Sedley.
"Well, who _saw_ you out? You made him a present; he'd have told you, ofcourse. _Did_ he?"
"I didn't ask him."
"Come, that's being very delicate indeed! All I can say is, if I were asspoony as you are, on that girl, I'd have learned all about her longago. It's nothing to me; but if you find out her name, I know two orthree fellows in town who know everything about everybody, and I'll makeout the whole story--that is, if she's anybody."
"By Jove! that's very odd. There he _is_, just gone into the GoldenLion, that groom, that servant, that Malory man," exclaimed Tom Sedleyvery eagerly, and staring hard at the open door of the quaint littlepot-house.
"Well, go; give him a pound, it's well worth it," laughed Cleve. "I'mserious, if you want to learn it; no fellow like that can resist apound; and if _you_ tell me the name, I'll make you out all the rest, Ireally will, when we get to town. There, don't let him get off, andyou'll find me at the Verney Arms."
So saying, Cleve nodding his irresolute friend toward the Golden Lion,walked swiftly away to meet the Reverend Isaac Dixie. But Dixie was notat the Chancery; only a letter, to say that "most unhappily" thatmorning, Clay Rectory was to undergo an inspection by a Commissioner ofDilapidations; but that, D.V., he would place himself next day, at theappointed hour, at his honoured pupil's disposal.
"Those shovel-hatted martinets! they never allow a minute for commonsense, or anything useful--always pottering over their clerical drilland pipe-clay," said Cleve, who, when an idea once entered his mind,pursued it with a terrible concentration, and hated an hour's delay.
So out he came disappointed, and joined Sedley near the Golden Lion.
They said little for a time, but walked on, side by side, and foundthemselves sauntering along the road toward Malory together.
"Well, Sedley, I forgot,--what about the man? Did he tell you anything?"
"I do believe if a fellow once allows a girl to get into his head, everso little, he's in a sort of way drunk--worse than drunk--systematicallyfoolish," said honest Sedley, philosophizing. "I've been doing nothingbut idiotic things ever since church time yesterday."
"Well, but what did he say?"
"He took the pound, and devil a thing he said. He wouldn't tell anythingabout them. I give you leave to laugh at me. I know I'm the greatestass on earth, and I think he's the ugliest brute I ever saw, and themost uncivil; and, by Jove, if I stay here much longer, I think he'llget all my money from me. He doesn't ask for it, but I go on giving itto him; I can't help it; the beast!"
"Isn't there a saying about a sage, or something and his money beingsoon parted?" asked Cleve. "I think if I were so much gone about a girlas you are, and on such easy terms with that fellow, and tipped him sohandsomely, I'd have learned her name, at least, before now."
"I can't; everything goes wrong with me. Why should I risk my reason,and fall in love with the moon? The girl wouldn't look at me; by Jove,she'll never even _see_ me; and it's much better so, for nothing canpossibly come of it, but pain to me, and fun to every one else. The latetrain does not stop at our station. I can't go to-night; but, by Jove,I'll be off in the morning. I _will_. Don't you think I'm right, Cleve?"
Tom Sedley stopped short, and faced his friend--who was, in mostmatters, his oracle--earnestly laying his hand upon his arm. Clevelaughed at his vehemence, for he knew Tom's impulsive nature, hisgenerous follies, and terrible impetuosity, and, said he--"Right, Tom;always a philosopher! Nothing like the radical cure, in such a case,absence. If the cards won't answer, try the dice, if they won't do, trythe balls. I'm afraid this is a bad venture; put your heart to sea in asieve! No, Tom, that precious freightage is for a more substantialcraft. I suppose you have seen your last of the young lady, and it wouldbe a barren fib of friendship to say that I believe you have made anyimpression. Therefore, save yourself, fly, and try what absence will do,and work and play, and eating and drinking, and sleeping abundantly in adistant scene, to dissipate the fumes of your intoxication, steal youaway from the enchantress, and restore you to yourself. Therefore Iecho--go."
"I'm sure you think it, though you're half joking," said Tom Sedley.
"Well, let us come on. I've half a mind to go up myself and have a peepat the refectory," said Cleve.
"To what purpose?"
"Archaeology," said Cleve.
"If you go in there, after what occurred this morning, by Jove, _I_'llnot wait for you," said Sedley.
"Well, come along; there's no harm, I suppose, in passing by. TheQueen's highway, I hope, isn't shut up," answered Verney.
Sedley sighed, looked towards Malory, and not being in a mood to resist,walked on toward the enchanted forest and castle, by his companion'sside.
When they came by the dark and narrow cross-road that skirts thesouthern side of Malory to the farmyard gate, nailed on its pier, on asquare bit of board, in fresh black and white paint, they read thefollowing words:--
NOTICE.
No admission at this gate to any but servants or others employed at Malory.
Any person found trespassing within the walls will be prosecuted according to law.
--September, 18--.
When the young men, in a momentary silence, read this warning, theingenuous countenance of Tom Sedley flushed crimson to the very roots ofhis hair, and Cleve Verney was seized with a fit of laughter that grewmore and more violent the more grave and reproachful grew Tom Sedley'saspect.
"Well, Tom, I think, if we have any dignity left, we had better turn ourbacks upon this inhospitable refectory, and seek comfort elsewhere. ByJove! a pretty row you must have made up there this morning to obligethe governor to declare the place in a state of siege, and mount hisartillery."
"Come away, Cleve; that is, as soon as you've done laughing at thatboard. Of course, you knew as well as I do, that my coming in, andlooking as, I hope, any gentleman might, at that stupid old barn, thismorning, could not possibly be the cause of that offensive notice. Ifyou think it is pointed at me, of course, it's more amusing, but if not,hang me if
I can see the joke."
Tom Sedley was out of spirits, and a little testy, and very silent allthe way back to Cardyllian. He refused Cleve's invitation to Ware. Hemade up his mind to return to London in the morning; and this being hislast evening in this part of the world, he must spend it at Hazelden.
So these young gentlemen dined together at the Verney Arms, and it grewdark as they sat by the open window at their wine, and the moon got upand silvered the distant peaks of shadowy mountains, and thesecompanions grew silent and dreamy as they might in the spell of distantmusic.
But the people of Hazelden kept early hours, and Tom Sedley suddenlyrecollected that he must go. They parted, therefore, excellent friends,for Sedley had no suspicion that Cleve was his rival, and Cleve couldafford to be amused at Sedley's rivalry.
When Verney got on board there was a light breeze. "We'll run downtoward Penruthyn Priory," said he; and round went the cutter, leaningwith the breeze, and hissing and snorting through the gentle swell asshe flew on towards the headland on which stands that pretty monasticruin.
She glided into the black shadow cast by the solemn wall of cloud thatnow hid the moon from sight, away from the hundred star-like lights ofCardyllian, flying swiftly backward on the left, close under theshapeless blackness of the hill, that rises precipitously from the sea,and over which lies the path from the town to Malory, and onward by thewooded grounds of that old mansion, now an indistinguishable mass ofdarkness, whose outline was hardly visible against the sky.
I dare say, the thought of crossing the lights of these windows, had itsshare in prompting this nautical freak, and towards these Cleve's gazewas turned, when, on a sudden, the man looking out at the bows shouted"Starboard;" but before the boat had time to feel the helm, the end ofthe cutter's boom struck the mast of a small boat; a shout from severalvoices rose suddenly, and was almost instantaneously far behind. Roundwent the yacht; they hailed the boat.
"She's lost her mast, I think," said one of Cleve's men.
"D---- you, where are your lights?" shouted a stern, fierce voice.
"No one overboard?" cried Cleve.
"No, no. You'll be the _Wave_, sure? Mr. Cleve Verney, from Ware?"replied a different voice.
"Who are these fellows, do you know?" asked Cleve of his men.
"That will be Christmass Owen, sir."
"Oh!" exclaimed Cleve. "And the other's the old gentleman from Malory?"
"Well, I think 'twill be him, sure."
In another minute the punt of the yacht was alongside the boat, with amessage from Cleve, inviting the old gentleman on board, and offering toput him ashore wherever he liked best.
Shortly and grimly the courtesy was refused. The wrath of the old man,however, seemed to have subsided, and he gathered himself within thefolds of his silence again. All had passed in a darkness like that ofStyx. A dense screen of cloud had entirely hid the moon; and though sonear, Cleve could not see the old man of Malory, about whom he wascurious, with a strange and even tender sort of curiosity, which,certainly, no particular graciousness on his part had invited. In a fewminutes more the boat, with the aid of another spar, was on her courseagain, and the _Wave_ more than a mile away on hers.