Erema; Or, My Father's Sin

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  A SIMPLE QUESTION

  Now this account of what Jacob Rigg had seen and heard threw me into astate of mind extremely unsatisfactory. To be in eager search of someunknown person who had injured me inexpressibly, without any longing forrevenge on my part, but simply with a view to justice--this was a verydifferent thing from feeling that an unknown person was in quest ofme, with the horrible purpose of destroying me to insure his own wickedsafety.

  At first I almost thought that he was welcome to do this; that such alife as mine (if looked at from an outer point of view) was better to bedied than lived out. Also that there was nobody left to get any good outof all that I could do; and even if I ever should succeed, truth wouldcome out of her tomb too late. And this began to make me cry, which Ihad long given over doing, with no one to feel for the heart of it.

  But a thing of this kind could not long endure; and as soon as the sunof the morrow arose (or at least as soon as I was fit to see him), myview of the world was quite different. Here was the merry brook, playingwith the morning, spread around with ample depth and rich retreat ofmeadows, and often, after maze of leisure, hastening with a tinkle intoshadowy delight of trees. Here, as well, were happy lanes, and footpathsof a soft content, unworn with any pressure of the price of time orbusiness. None of them knew (in spite, at flurried spots, of their owndirection posts) whence they were coming or whither going--only thathere they lay, between the fields or through them, like idle veinsof earth, with sometimes company of a man or boy, whistling to hisfootfall, or a singing maid with a milking pail. And how ungrateful itwould be to forget the pleasant copses, in waves of deep green leafageflowing down and up the channeled hills, waving at the wind to tints andtones of new refreshment, and tempting idle folk to come and hear thehush, and see the twinkled texture of pellucid gloom.

  Much, however, as I loved to sit in places of this kind alone, for somelittle time I feared to do so, after hearing the sexton's tale; forJacob's terror was so unfeigned (though his own life had not beenthreatened) that, knowing as I did from Betsy's account, as well as hisown appearance, that he was not at all a nervous man, I could not helpsharing his vague alarm. It seemed so terrible that any one should cometo the graves of my sweet mother and her six harmless children, and,instead of showing pity, as even a monster might have tried to do,should stand, if not with threatening gestures, yet with a most hostilemien, and thirst for the life of the only survivor--my poor self.

  But terrible or not, the truth was so; and neither Betsy nor myselfcould shake Mr. Rigg's conclusion. Indeed, he became more and moreemphatic, in reply to our doubts and mild suggestions, perhaps that hiseyes had deceived him, or perhaps that, taking a nap in the corner ofthe buttress, he had dreamed at least a part of it. And Betsy, on thescore of ancient friendship and kind remembrance of his likings, putit to him in a gentle way whether his knowledge of what Sally Mock hadbeen, and the calumnies she might have spoken of his beer (when herself,in the work-house, deprived of it), might not have induced him to takea little more than usual in going down so deep for her. But he answered,"No; it was nothing of the sort. Deep he had gone, to the tiptoe of hisfling; not from any feeling of a wish to keep her down, but just becausethe parish paid, and the parish would have measurement. And when thatwas on, he never brought down more than the quart tin from the public;and never had none down afterward. Otherwise the ground was so ticklish,that a man, working too free, might stay down there. No, no! Thatidea was like one of Sally's own. He just had his quart of Persfieldale--short measure, of course, with a woman at the bar--and if that wereenough to make a man dream dreams, the sooner he dug his own grave, thebetter for all connected with him."

  We saw that we had gone too far in thinking of such a possibility; andif Mr. Rigg had not been large-minded, as well as notoriously sober,Betsy might have lost me all the benefit of his evidence by herLondon-bred clumsiness with him. For it takes quite a differenthandling, and a different mode of outset, to get on with the Londonworking class and the laboring kind of the country; or at least itseemed to me so.

  Now my knowledge of Jacob Rigg was owing, as might be supposed, to BetsyStrouss, who had taken the lead of me in almost every thing ever sinceI brought her down from London. And now I was glad that, in one pointat least, her judgment had overruled mine--to wit, that my name andparentage were as yet not generally known in the village. Indeed, onlyBetsy herself and Jacob and a faithful old washer-woman, with no roof toher mouth, were aware of me as Miss Castlewood. Not that I had taken anyother name--to that I would not stoop--but because the public, of itsown accord, paying attention to Betsy's style of addressing me, followedher lead (with some little improvement), and was pleased to entitle me"Miss Raumur."

  Some question had been raised as to spelling me aright, till a man ofadvanced intelligence proved to many eyes, and even several pairs ofspectacles (assembled in front of the blacksmith's shop), that no otherway could be right except that. For there it was in print, as any oneable might see, on the side of an instrument whose name and qualitieswere even more mysterious than those in debate. Therefore I became "MissRaumur;" and a protest would have gone for nothing unless printed also.But it did not behoove me to go to that expense, while it suited me verywell to be considered and pitied as a harmless foreigner--a being whoon English land may find some cause to doubt whether, even in his owncountry, a prophet could be less thought of. And this large pity for me,as an outlandish person, in the very spot where I was born, endowed mewith tenfold the privilege of the proudest native. For the natives ofthis valley are declared to be of a different stock from those aroundthem, not of the common Wessex strain, but of Jutish or Danishorigin. How that may be I do not know; at any rate, they think well ofthemselves, and no doubt they have cause to do so.

  Moreover, they all were very kind to me, and their primitive ways amusedme, as soon as they had settled that I was a foreigner, equally beyondand below inquiry. They told me that I was kindly welcome to stay thereas long as it pleased me; and knowing how fond I was of making pictures,after beholding my drawing-book, every farmer among them gave me leaveto come into his fields, though he never had heard there was any thingthere worth painting.

  When once there has been a deposit of idea in the calm deep eocene ofBritish rural mind, the impression will outlast any shallow deluge ofthe noblest education. Shoxford had settled two points forever, withouttroubling reason to come out of her way--first, that I was a foreignyoung lady of good birth, manners, and money; second, and far moreimportant, I was here to write and paint a book about Shoxford. Notfor the money, of that I had no need (according to the congress at the"Silver-edged Holly"), but for the praise and the knowledge of it,like, and to make a talk among high people. But the elders shook theirheads--as I heard from Mr. Rigg, who hugged his knowledge proudly, anduttered dim sayings of wisdom let forth at large usury: he did not mindtelling me that the old men shook their heads, for fear of my being adeal too young, and a long sight too well favored (as any man might tellwithout his specs on), for to write any book upon any subject yet, leavealone an old, ancient town like theirs. However, there might be no harmin my trying, and perhaps the school-master would cross out the badlanguage.

  Thus for once fortune now was giving me good help, enabling me to goabout freely, and preventing (so far as I could see, at least) alldanger of discovery by my unknown foe. So here I resolved to keep myhead-quarters, dispensing, if it must be so, with Betsy's presence,and not even having Mrs. Price to succeed her, unless my cousin shouldinsist upon it. And partly to dissuade him from that, and partly tohear his opinion of the sexton's tale, I paid a flying visit to LordCastlewood; while "Madam Straw," as Betsy now was called throughout thevillage, remained behind at Shoxford. For I long had desired to know athing which I had not ventured to ask my cousin--though I did ask Mr.Shovelin--whether my father had intrusted him with the key of his ownmysterious acts. I scarcely knew whether it was proper even now to putthis question to Lord Castlewood; but even without
doing so, I might getat the answer by watching him closely while I told my tale. Not a letterhad reached me since I came to Shoxford, neither had I written any,except one to Uncle Sam; and keeping to this excellent rule, I arrivedat Castlewood without notice.

  In doing this I took no liberty, because full permission had been givenme about it; and indeed I had been expected there, as Stixon told me,some days before. He added that his master was about as usual, but hadshown some uneasiness on my account, though the butler was all in thedark about it, and felt it very hard after all these years, "particular,when he could hardly help thinking that Mrs. Price--a new hand comparedto himself, not to speak of being a female--knowed all about it, andwere very aggravating. But there, he would say no more; he knew hisplace, and he always had been valued in it, long afore Mrs. Price comeup to the bottom of his waistcoat."

  My cousin received me with kindly warmth, and kissed me gently on theforehead. "My dear, how very well you look!" he said. "Your native airhas agreed with you. I was getting, in my quiet way, rather sedulousand self-reproachful about you. But you would have your own way, like ayoung American; and it seems that you were right."

  "It was quite right," I answered, with a hearty kiss, for I never couldbe cold-natured; and this was my only one of near kin, so far, at least,as my knowledge went. "I was quite right in going; and I have done good.At any rate, I have found out something--something that may not be ofany kind of use; but still it makes me hope things."

  With that, in as few words as ever I could use, I told Lord Castlewoodthe whole of Jacob's tale, particularly looking at him all the while Ispoke, to settle in my own mind whether the idea of such a thing was newto him. Concerning that, however, I could make out nothing. My cousin,at his time of life, and after so much travelling, had much too large ashare of mind and long skill of experience for me to make any thing outof his face beyond his own intention. And whether he had suspicion ornot of any thing at all like what I was describing, or any body havingto do with it, was more than I ever might have known, if I had notgathered up my courage and put the question outright to him. I toldhim that if I was wrong in asking, he was not to answer; but, right orwrong, ask him I must.

  "The question is natural, and not at all improper," replied LordCastlewood, standing a moment for change of pain, which was all hisrelief. "Indeed, I expected you to ask me that before. But, Erema, Ihave also had to ask myself about it, whether I have any right to answeryou. And I have decided not to do so, unless you will pledge yourself toone thing."

  "I will pledge myself to any thing," I answered, rashly; "I do not carewhat it is, if only to get at the bottom of this mystery."

  "I scarcely think you will hold good to your words when you hear whatyou have to promise. The condition upon which I tell you what I believeto be the cause of all is, that you let things remain as they are, andkeep silence forever about them."

  "Oh, you can not be so cruel, so atrocious!" I cried, in my bitterdisappointment. "What good would it be for me to know things thus, andlet the vile wrong continue? Surely you are not bound to lay on me acondition so impossible?"

  "After much consideration and strong wish to have it otherwise, I haveconcluded that I am so bound."

  "In duty to my father, or the family, or what? Forgive me for asking,but it does seem so hard."

  "It seems hard, my dear, and it is hard as well," he answered, verygently, yet showing in his eyes and lips no chance of any yielding. "Butremember that I do not know, I only guess, the secret; and if you givethe pledge I speak of, you merely follow in your father's steps."

  "Never," I replied, with as firm a face as his. "It may have been myfather's duty, or no doubt he thought it so; but it can not be mine,unless I make it so by laying it on my honor. And I will not do that."

  "Perhaps you are right; but, at any rate, remember that I have not triedto persuade you. I wish to do what is for your happiness, Erema. AndI think that, on the whole, with your vigor and high spirit, you arebetter as you are than if you had a knowledge which you could only broodover and not use."

  "I will find out the whole of it myself," I cried, for I could notrepress all excitement; "and then I need not brood over it, but may haveit out and get justice. In the wildest parts of America justice comeswith perseverance: am I to abjure it in the heart of England? LordCastlewood, which is first--justice or honor?"

  "My cousin, you are fond of asking questions difficult to answer.Justice and honor nearly always go together. When they do otherwise,honor stands foremost, with people of good birth, at least."

  "Then I will be a person of very bad birth. If they come into conflictin my life, as almost every thing seems to do, my first thought shall beof justice; and honor shall come in as its ornament afterward."

  "Erema," said my cousin, "your meaning is good, and at your time of lifeyou can scarcely be expected to take a dispassionate view of things."

  At first I felt almost as if I could hate a "dispassionate view ofthings." Things are made to arouse our passion, so long as meanness andvillainy prevail; and if old men, knowing the balance of the world,can contemplate them all "dispassionately," more clearly than any thingelse, to my mind, that proves the beauty of being young. I am sure thatI never was hot or violent--qualities which I especially dislike--butstill I would rather almost have those than be too philosophical. Andnow, while I revered my father's cousin for his gentleness, wisdom, andlong-suffering, I almost longed to fly back to the Major, prejudiced,peppery, and red-hot for justice, at any rate in all things thatconcerned himself.