CHAPTER XLVI
VAIN ZEAL
Leaving his telescope leveled at the men, the Major marched off withhis opera-glass in a consciously provoking style, and Mrs. Hockin mostheartily joined me in condemning such behavior. In a minute or two,however, she would not have one word said against him, and the tide ofher mind (as befits a married woman) was beyond all science; so that thedrift of all words came back to her husband's extraordinary merits. Andcertainly these, if at all like her description, deserved to be dweltupon at very precious periods.
However, I had heard enough of them before; for the Major himself wasnot mute upon this point, though comparatively modest, and oftentimesdeprecating praise ere ever he received it. And so I brought Mrs. Hockinback at last to talk about the lady who was living in the ruin.
"It is not quite a ruin," she said. "My dear husband is fond ofpicturesque expressions. However, it is not in very good repair; andbeing unable to get possession of it, through some legal quibble,possibly he may look at it from a rather unfavorable point of view. Andfor the same reason--though he is so purely just--he may have formed abad opinion of the strange individual who lives there. What right hasshe to be living without his leave upon his own manor? But there she is,and she does not care for us or any body. She fetches all she wants, shespeaks to none, and if any body calls for rates or taxes, or any otherpublic intrusion, they may knock and knock, but never get in, and atlast they go away again."
"But surely that can not go on forever. Bruntsea is such an enlightenedplace."
"Our part of it is, but the rest quite benighted. As the man says--Iforget his name, but the man that misunderstands us so--his contentionis that 'Desolate Hole,' as the Major calls it, although in the middleof our land, is entirely distinct from it. My husband never will put upwith that--his love of justice is far too strong--and he means to have alawsuit. But still he has reasons for not beginning yet; and he puts upwith a great deal, I am sure. It is too bad for them to tease him so."
"It does seem a very sad thing," I replied; "and the poor soul livingthere all alone! Even in the summer it is bad enough; but whatever willshe do when the winter comes? Why, the sea in bad weather must be almostin upon her. And the roar of the pebbles all night! Major Hockin willnever allow her to stay there."
"What can he do, when he can not get in, and they even deny his title?I assure you, Erema, I have sent down cream, and even a dozen of myprecious eggs, with the lady of the manor's compliments; but insteadof being grateful, they were never taken in; and my Polly--'Miss PollyHopkins,' you know--very wisely took it all to her grandmother."
"To her grandmother instead of mine, as the Major facetiously calls her.And now he says this is her portrait; and instead of giving his reasons,runs away! Really you must excuse me, Aunt Mary, for thinking that yourgood husband has a little too much upon his mind sometimes."
The old lady laughed, as I loved to see her do. "Well, my dear, afterthat, I think you had better have it out with him. He comes home to teaat 6.30, which used to be half past six in my days. He is very tiredthen, though he never will allow it, and it would not be fair to attackhim. I give him a mutton-chop, or two poached eggs, or some other trifleof nourishment. And then I make him doze for an hour and a half, tosoothe his agitated intellect. And when he wakes he has just one glassof hot water and sugar, with a little Lochnagar. And then he is equal toany thing--backgammon, bezique, or even conversation."
Impatient as I was, I saw nothing better; and by this time I wasbecoming used to what all of us must put up with--the long postponementof our heavy cares to the light convenience of others. Major Hockinmight just as well have stopped, when he saw how anxious I was. UncleSam would have stopped the mill itself, with a dozen customers waiting;but no doubt he had spoiled me; and even that should not make me bitter.Aunt Mary and I understood one another. We gazed away over the breadthof the sea and the gleam of its texture, and we held our peace.
Few things are more surprising than the calm way in which ripe age lookson at things which ought to amaze it. And yet any little one of its ownconcerns grows more important, perhaps, than ever as the shadow of thefuture dwindles. Major Hockin had found on the beach a pebble with astreak of agate in it. He took it as the harbinger of countlessagates, and resolved to set up a lapidary, with a tent, or even a shop,perhaps--not to pay, but to be advertised, and catch distinguishedvisitors.
"Erema, you are a mighty finder; you found the biggest nugget yetdiscovered. You know about stones from the Rocky Mountains, or at leastthe Sierra Nevada. You did not discover this beautiful agate, but yousaw and greatly admired it. We might say that a 'young lady, eminent forgreat skill in lithology, famed as the discoverer,' etc. Hold it betweenyour eyes and this candle, but wet it in the slop-basin first; now yousee the magnificent veins of blue."
"I see nothing of the kind," I said; for really it was too bad of him."It seems to me a dirty bit of the commonest flint you could pick up."
This vexed him more than I wished to have done, and I could not helpbeing sorry; for he went into a little fit of sulks, and Aunt Maryalmost frowned at me. But he could not stay long in that condition, andafter his doze and his glass he came forth as lively and meddlesome asever. And the first thing he did was to ask me for the locket.
"Open it?" he cried; "why, of course I can; there is never anydifficulty about that. The finest workmanship in the world is that ofthe Indian jewelers. I have been among them often; I know all theirdevices and mechanism, of which the European are bad copies. I have onlyto look round this thing twice, and then pronounce my Sesame."
"My dear, then look round it as fast as you can," said his wife, witha traitorous smile at me, "and we won't breathe a Sess till it fliesasunder."
"Mary, Miss Castlewood makes you pert, although herself so wellconducted. However, I do not hesitate to say that I will open this casein two minutes."
"Of course you will, dear," Mrs. Hockin replied, with provokingacquiescence. "The Major never fails, Erema, in any thing he is so sureabout; and this is a mere child's toy to him. Well, dear, have you doneit? But I need not ask. Oh, let us see what is inside of it!"
"I have not done it yet, Mrs. Hockin; and if you talk with suchrapidity, of course you throw me out. How can I command my thoughts, oreven recall my experience?"
"Hush! now hush, Erema! And I myself will hush most reverently."
"You have no reverence in you, and no patience. Do you expect me to dosuch a job in one second? Do you take me for a common jeweler? I beg youto remember--"
"Well, my dear, I remember only what you told us. You were to turn itround twice, you know, and then cry Sesame. Erema, was it not so?"
"I never said any thing of the sort. What I said was simplythis--However, to reason with ladies is rude; I shall just be off to mystudy."
"Where you keep your tools, my darling," Mrs. Hockin said, softly, afterhim: "at least, I mean, when you know where they are."
I was astonished at Aunt Mary's power of being so highly provoking, andstill more at her having the heart to employ it. But she knew best whather husband was; and to worship forever is not wise.
"Go and knock at his door in about five minutes," Mrs. Hockin said tome, with some mischief in her eyes. "If he continues to fail, he maypossibly take a shorter way with it. And with his tools so close athand--"
"Oh," I exclaimed, "his geological hammer--that dreadful crusher! May Igo at once? I detest that thing, but I can not have it smashed."
"He will not break it up, my dear, without your leave. He never wouldthink of such a thing, of course. However, you may as well go afterhim."
It was wrong of Mrs. Hockin to make me do this; and I felt quiteashamed of myself when I saw the kind old Major sitting by his lamp, andwrinkling his forehead into locks and keys of puzzle, but using violenceto his own mind alone. And I was the more ashamed when, instead ofresenting my intrusion, he came to meet me, and led me to his chair, andplaced the jeweled trinket in my hand, and said, "My dear, I give itup. I was
wrong in taking it away from you. You must consult some onewiser."
"That odious thing!" I answered, being touched by this unusual humilityof his; "you shall not give it up; and I know no wiser person. Alapidary's tricks are below your knowledge. But if you are not tired ofme and offended, may I leave it to you to get it opened?"
"I would like nothing better," he replied, recovering his naturalbriskness and importance; "but you ought to be there, my dear; you mustbe there. Are you sure that you ought not rather to take it to your goodcousin Lord Castlewood? Now think before you answer."
"I need not think twice of that, Major Hockin. Good and learned asmy father's cousin is, he has distinctly refused to help me, for somemysterious reason of his own, in searching into this question. Indeed,my great hope is to do it without him: for all that I know, he mighteven wish to thwart me."
"Enough, my dear; it shall be just as you wish. I brought you toEngland, and I will stand by you. My cousin, Colonel Gundry, hascommitted you to me. I have no patience with malefactors. I never tookthis matter up, for very many reasons; and among them not the least wasthat Sampson, your beloved 'Uncle Sam,' thought it better not to do so.But if you desire it, and now that I feel certain that an infamous wronghas been done to you--which I heartily beg your pardon for my doubtof--by the Lord of all justice, every thing else may go to the devil,till I see it out. Do you desire it, Erema?"
"I certainly do not wish that any of your great works should beneglected. But if, without that, you can give me your strong help, myonly difficulty will be to thank you."
"I like plain speaking, and you always speak plainly; sometimes tooplainly," he said, recollecting little times when he had the worst ofit. "How far do you trust me now?"
"Major Hockin, I trust you altogether. You may make mistakes, as all mendo--"
"Yes, yes, yes. About my own affairs; but I never do that for otherpeople. I pay a bill for twopence, if it is my own. If I am trustee ofit, I pay three half-pence."
His meaning was a little beyond me now; but it seemed better not to tellhim so; for he loved to explain his own figures of speech, even when hehad no time to spare for it. And he clearly expected me to ask him tobegin; or at least it seemed so from his eyebrows. But that only camehome to me afterward.
"Please not to speak of my affairs like that," I said, as if I werequite stupid; "I mean to pay fourpence for every twopence--both tofriends and enemies."
"You are a queer girl; I have always said so. You turn things to yourown ideas so. However, we must put up with that, though none of mydaughters have ever done it; for which I am truly thankful. But nowthere is very little time to lose. The meaning of this thing must becleared up at once. And there is another thing to be done as well, quiteas important, in my opinion. I will go to London with you to-morrow, ifyou like. My clever little Cornishman will see to things here--the manthat sets up all the angles."
"But why should I hurry you to London so?" I asked. "Surely any goodcountry jeweler could manage it? Or let us break it open."
"On no account," he answered; "we might spoil it all; besides the greatrisk to the diamonds, which are very brittle things. To London we musttake it, for this reason--the closure of this case is no jeweler's work;of that I have quite convinced myself. It is the work of a first-ratelapidary, and the same sort of man must undo it."
To this I agreed quite readily, because of such things I knew nothing;whereas my host spoke just as if he had been brought up to both thosewalks of art. And then I put a question which had long been burning onmy tongue.
"What made you imagine, Major Hockin, that this very beautiful facecould have ever been that of the old lady living in the ruin?"
"In Desolate Hole? I will tell you at once; and then call it, if youlike, an imagination. Of all the features of the human face there isnone more distinctive than the eyebrow. 'Distinctive' is not exactlywhat I mean--I mean more permanently marked and clear. The eyes change,the nose changes, so does the mouth, and even the shape of the foreheadsometimes; but the eyebrows change very little, except in color. This Ihave noticed, because my own may perhaps be a little peculiar; and theyhave always been so. At school I received a nickname about it, for boysare much sharper than men about such things; and that name after fiftyyears fits as well as ever. You may smile, if you like; I shall not tellyou what it was, but leave you to re-invent it, if you can. Now lookat this first-rate miniature. Do you see an unusual but not uncomelyformation of the eyebrows?"
"Certainly I do; though I did not observe it until you drew myattention. I had only regarded the face, as a whole."
"The face, as a whole, is undoubtedly fine. But the eyebrows have apeculiar arch, and the least little turn at the lower end, as if theydesigned to rise again. The lady of Desolate Hole has the same."
"But how can you tell? How very strange! I thought she let nobody seeher face."
"You are perfectly right about that, Erema; so far at least as she hasvouchsafed to exhibit her countenance to me. Other people may be morefortunate. But when I met her for the second time, being curious alreadyabout her, I ventured to offer my services, with my inborn chivalry, ata place where the tide was running up, and threatened to surround her.My politeness was not appreciated, as too often is the case; for shemade me a very stiff bow, and turned away. Her face had been covered bythe muffler of her cloak, as if the sea-breeze were too much for her;and she did not even raise her eyes. But before she turned away, Iobtained a good glance at her eyebrows--and they were formed likethese."
"But her age, Major Hockin! Her age--what is it?"
"Upon that proverbially delicate point I can tell you but little,Erema. Perhaps, however, I may safely say that she can not be much undertwenty."
"It is not right to provoke me so. You call her 'the old woman,'and compare her to your letter-box. You must have some idea--is sheseventy?"
"Certainly not, I should say; though she can not expect me to defendher, when she will not show her face to me; and what is far worse, at mytime of life, she won't even pay me a half-penny of rent. Now let us goback to Aunt Mary, my dear; she always insists upon packing overnight."
Erema; Or, My Father's Sin Page 46
