CHAPTER III. OF OUR FURTHER ACQUAINTANCE WITH MAJOR-GENERAL J. B. HEATHERSTONE
There was, as may well be imagined, much stir amongst our smallcommunity at the news that the Hall was to be inhabited once more, andconsiderable speculation as to the new tenants, and their object inchoosing this particular part of the country for their residence.
It speedily became apparent that, whatever their motives might be, theyhad definitely determined upon a lengthy stay, for relays of plumbersand of joiners came down from Wigtown, and there was hammering andrepairing going on from morning till night.
It was surprising how quickly the signs of the wind and weather wereeffaced, until the great, square-set house was all as spick-and-spanas though it had been erected yesterday. There were abundant signs thatmoney was no consideration to General Heatherstone, and that it was noton the score of retrenchment that he had taken up his abode among us.
"It may be that he is devoted to study," suggested my father, as wediscussed the question round the breakfast table. "Perhaps he has chosenthis secluded spot to finish some magnum opus upon which he is engaged.If that is the case I should be happy to let him have the run of mylibrary."
Esther and I laughed at the grandiloquent manner in which he spoke ofthe two potato-sacksful of books.
"It may be as you say," said I, "but the general did not strike meduring our short interview as being a man who was likely to have anyvery pronounced literary tastes. If I might hazard a guess, I should saythat he is here upon medical advice, in the hope that the complete quietand fresh air may restore his shattered nervous system. If you had seenhow he glared at me, and the twitching of his fingers, you would havethought it needed some restoring."
"I do wonder whether he has a wife and a family," said my sister. "Poorsouls, how lonely they will be! Why, excepting ourselves, there is not afamily that they could speak to for seven miles and more."
"General Heatherstone is a very distinguished soldier," remarked myfather.
"Why, papa, however came you to know anything about him?"
"Ah, my dears," said my father, smiling at us over his coffee-cup, "youwere laughing at my library just now, but you see it may be very usefulat times." As he spoke he took a red-covered volume from a shelf andturned over the pages. "This is an Indian Army List of threeyears back," he explained, "and here is the very gentleman wewant-'Heatherstone, J. B., Commander of the Bath,' my dears, and 'V.C.',think of that, 'V.C.'--'formerly colonel in the Indian Infantry, 41stBengal Foot, but now retired with the rank of major-general.' In thisother column is a record of his services--'capture of Ghuznee anddefence of Jellalabad, Sobraon 1848, Indian Mutiny and reduction ofOudh. Five times mentioned in dispatches.' I think, my dears, that wehave cause to be proud of our new neighbour."
"It doesn't mention there whether he is married or not, I suppose?"asked Esther.
"No," said my father, wagging his white head with a keen appreciationof his own humour. "It doesn't include that under the heading of 'daringactions'--though it very well might, my dear, it very well might."
All our doubts, however, upon this head were very soon set at rest, foron the very day that the repairing and the furnishing had been completedI had occasion to ride into Wigtown, and I met upon the way a carriagewhich was bearing General Heatherstone and his family to their new home.An elderly lady, worn and sickly-looking, was by his side, and oppositehim sat a young fellow about my own age and a girl who appeared to be acouple of years younger.
I raised my hat, and was about to pass them, when the general shouted tohis coachman to pull up, and held out his hand to me. I could see nowin the daylight that his face, although harsh and stern, was capable ofassuming a not unkindly expression.
"How are you, Mr. Fothergill West?" he cried. "I must apologise toyou if I was a little brusque the other night--you will excuse an oldsoldier who has spent the best part of his life in harness--Allthe same, you must confess that you are rather dark-skinned for aScotchman."
"We have a Spanish strain in our blood," said I, wondering at hisrecurrence to the topic.
"That would, of course, account for it," he remarked. "My dear," to hiswife, "allow me to introduce Mr. Fothergill West to you. This is my sonand my daughter. We have come here in search of rest, Mr. West--completerest."
"And you could not possibly have come to a better place," said I.
"Oh, you think so?" he answered. "I suppose it is very quiet indeed, andvery lonely. You might walk through these country lanes at night, I daresay, and never meet a soul, eh?"
"Well, there are not many about after dark," I said.
"And you are not much troubled with vagrants or wandering beggars, eh?Not many tinkers or tramps or rascally gipsies--no vermin of that sortabout?"
"I find it rather cold," said Mrs. Heatherstone, drawing her thicksealskin mantle tighter round her figure. "We are detaining Mr. West,too."
"So we are, my dear, so we are. Drive on, coachman. Good-day, Mr. West."
The carriage rattled away towards the Hall, and I trotted thoughtfullyonwards to the little country metropolis.
As I passed up the High Street, Mr. McNeil ran out from his office andbeckoned to me to stop.
"Our new tenants have gone out," he said. "They drove over thismorning."
"I met them on the way," I answered.
As I looked down at the little factor, I could see that his face wasflushed and that he bore every appearance of having had an extra glass.
"Give me a real gentleman to do business with," he said, with a burst oflaughter. "They understand me and I understand them. 'What shall I fillit up for?' says the general, taking a blank cheque out o' his pouch andlaying it on the table. 'Two hundred,' says I, leaving a bit o' a marginfor my own time and trouble."
"I thought that the landlord had paid you for that," I remarked.
"Aye, aye, but it's well to have a bit margin. He filled it up and threwit over to me as if it had been an auld postage stamp. That's the waybusiness should be done between honest men--though it wouldna do if onewas inclined to take an advantage. Will ye not come in, Mr. West, andhave a taste of my whisky?"
"No, thank you," said I, "I have business to do."
"Well, well, business is the chief thing. It's well not to drink in themorning, too. For my own part, except a drop before breakfast to giveme an appetite, and maybe a glass, or even twa, afterwards to promotedigestion, I never touch spirits before noon. What d'ye think o' thegeneral, Mr. West?"
"Why, I have hardly had an opportunity of judging," I answered.
Mr. McNeil tapped his forehead with his forefinger.
"That's what I think of him," he said in a confidential whisper, shakinghis head at me. "He's gone, sir, gone, in my estimation. Now what wouldyou take to be a proof of madness, Mr. West?"
"Why, offering a blank cheque to a Wigtown house-agent," said I.
"Ah, you're aye at your jokes. But between oorsel's now, if a man askedye how many miles it was frae a seaport, and whether ships come therefrom the East, and whether there were tramps on the road, and whetherit was against the lease for him to build a high wall round the grounds,what would ye make of it, eh?"
"I should certainly think him eccentric," said I.
"If every man had his due, our friend would find himsel' in a house witha high wall round the grounds, and that without costing him a farthing,"said the agent.
"Where then?" I asked, humouring his joke.
"Why, in the Wigtown County Lunatic Asylum," cried the little man, witha bubble of laughter, in the midst of which I rode on my way, leavinghim still chuckling over his own facetiousness.
The arrival of the new family at Cloomber Hall had no perceptible effectin relieving the monotony of our secluded district, for instead ofentering into such simple pleasures as the country had to offer, orinteresting themselves, as we had hoped, in our attempts to improvethe lot of our poor crofters and fisherfolk, they seemed to shun allobservation, and hardly ever to venture beyond the avenue gates.
We soon found, too, that the factor's words as to the inclosing of thegrounds were founded upon fact, for gangs of workmen were kept hard atwork from early in the morning until late at night in erecting a high,wooden fence round the whole estate.
When this was finished and topped with spikes, Cloomber Park becameimpregnable to any one but an exceptionally daring climber. It was asif the old soldier had been so imbued with military ideas that, like myUncle Toby, he could not refrain even in times of peace from standingupon the defensive.
Stranger still, he had victualled the house as if for a siege, forBegbie, the chief grocer of Wigtown, told me himself in a raptureof delight and amazement that the general had sent him an order forhundreds of dozens of every imaginable potted meat and vegetable.
It may be imagined that all these unusual incidents were not allowed topass without malicious comment. Over the whole countryside and as faraway as the English border there was nothing but gossip about the newtenants of Cloomber Hall and the reasons which had led them to comeamong us.
The only hypothesis, however, which the bucolic mind could evolve, wasthat which had already occurred to Mr. McNeil, the factor--namely, thatthe old general and his family were one and all afflicted with madness,or, as an alternative conclusion, that he had committed some heinousoffence and was endeavouring to escape the consequences of his misdeeds.
These were both natural suppositions under the circumstances, butneither of them appeared to me to commend itself as a true explanationof the facts.
It is true that General Heatherstone's behaviour on the occasion of ourfirst interview was such as to suggest some suspicion of mental disease,but no man could have been more reasonable or more courteous than he hadafterwards shown himself to be.
Then, again, his wife and children led the same secluded life that hedid himself, so that the reason could not be one peculiar to his ownhealth.
As to the possibility of his being a fugitive from justice, that theorywas even more untenable. Wigtownshire was bleak and lonely, but it wasnot such an obscure corner of the world that a well-known soldier couldhope to conceal himself there, nor would a man who feared publicity setevery one's tongue wagging as the general had done.
On the whole, I was inclined to believe that the true solution of theenigma lay in his own allusion to the love of quiet, and that theyhad taken shelter here with an almost morbid craving for solitude andrepose. We very soon had an instance of the great lengths to which thisdesire for isolation would carry them.
My father had come down one morning with the weight of a greatdetermination upon his brow.
"You must put on your pink frock to-day, Esther," said he, "and you,John, you must make yourself smart, for I have determined that the threeof us shall drive round this afternoon and pay our respects to Mrs.Heatherstone and the general."
"A visit to Cloomber," cried Esther, clapping her hands.
"I am here," said my father, with dignity, "not only as the laird'sfactor, but also as his kinsman. In that capacity I am convinced that hewould wish me to call upon these newcomers and offer them any politenesswhich is in our power. At present they must feel lonely and friendless.What says the great Firdousi? 'The choicest ornaments to a man's houseare his friends.'"
My sister and I knew by experience that when the old man began tojustify his resolution by quotations from the Persian poets there was nochance of shaking it. Sure enough that afternoon saw the phaeton at thedoor, with my father perched upon the seat, with his second-best coat onand a pair of new driving-gloves.
"Jump in, my dears," he cried, cracking his whip briskly, "we shall showthe general that he has no cause to be ashamed of his neighbours."
Alas! pride always goes before a fall. Our well-fed ponies and shiningharness were not destined that day to impress the tenants of Cloomberwith a sense of our importance.
We had reached the avenue gate, and I was about to get out and open it,when our attention was arrested by a very large wooden placard, whichwas attached to one of the trees in such a manner that no one couldpossibly pass without seeing it. On the white surface of this board wasprinted in big, black letters the following hospitable inscription:
GENERAL AND MRS. HEATHERSTONE HAVE NO WISH TO INCREASE THE CIRCLE OF THEIR ACQUAINTANCE.
We all sat gazing at this announcement for some moments in silentastonishment. Then Esther and I, tickled by the absurdity of the thing,burst out laughing, but my father pulled the ponies' heads round, anddrove home with compressed lips and the cloud of much wrath upon hisbrow. I have never seen the good man so thoroughly moved, and I amconvinced that his anger did not arise from any petty feeling of injuredvanity upon his own part, but from the thought that a slight had beenoffered to the Laird of Branksome, whose dignity he represented.
The Mystery of Cloomber Page 3
