CHAPTER II.
There was but little difference in this respect when we removed toRosemullion, an old-fashioned, straggling mansion on the outskirts ofRochester, surrounded by stone walls, and secluded from public view bythick clusters of trees. We made no friends, we kept no company.Within half a hundred yards of the great house was a cottage of sixrooms, very pretty, embosomed in shrubs and flowers. After a time thiscottage became my real home. I was allowed to do pretty much as Iliked, within certain unexpressed limitations through which, itappears, I did not break. Before I inhabited this cottage, I spoke, ofcourse, to my father on the subject.
"You have taken a fancy to it, Gabriel?" he said.
"A great fancy," I said; "I wish it were mine."
"You may consider it yours," he said.
I thanked him, and immediately removed my books and papers into it. Ina very short time it was ready for occupation, and I took possessionof it. I wrote and studied in it, mused in it, slept in it, and livedtherein a life of much seclusion. It suited my humour; I was fond ofprivacy, and I could enjoy it there to my heart's content.
Heaven knows there was no inducement in the great house to render itattractive to me. It was invariably quiet and sad. Whatever else ourcoming into possession of wealth did for us, it did not improve mymother's health. She became more than ever a confirmed invalid, andfrequently kept her chamber for weeks together, during which times Iwas not permitted to see her. Mrs. Fortress remained with us inattendance on my mother, and exercised absolute control not only overher, but over the whole establishment. My father did not troublehimself in domestic matters; he left everything to Mrs. Fortress. Ouronly regular visitor was a doctor, who occasionally, after seeing mymother, would come and chat with me a while. He was a practitioner offair ability, but apart from his profession, had little in him toattract me to him. I had the knack of gauging men, though I mixed butlittle with them; I had also the gift of drawing them out, as it were,and of extracting any special knowledge in which they were proficient.Using the doctor in this way, quite unsuspiciously, I am sure, tohimself, I gained something from conversing with him; but had hisvisits to me not been few and far between, I should have found a meansof avoiding them. I had already developed a certain masterfulness ofspirit, and judged and decided matters for myself. There was, however,one exception, the intercourse between my mother and myself. In this Idid not guide, but was guided. When the periods of seclusion of whichI have spoken were over, Mrs. Fortress would come to me and say, "Yourmother will see you now," and would conduct me to her presence. Onlythe slightest references to her illness were permitted. There were inour small family unwritten laws which were never transgressed. I haveno remembrance of the manner in which they were made known to me, butknown they were, and obeyed as though they had been writ in letters ofsteel, and no thought of rebelling against them entered my mind. Theutmost I was allowed to say was,
"You have been ill, mother?"
"Yes, Gabriel," she would reply, "I have been ill."
"You are better now, mother?"
"Yes, I am better now."
That was all.
Mrs. Fortress would stand in silence by the bedside. She ruled chieflyby looks. What peculiar duties were attached to her service I knownot, but there cannot be a doubt that she performed them faithfully. Ineither liked nor disliked her, but she compelled me to respect her.In her outward bearing she was more like a machine than a human being.Sometimes in thinking of her I recalled words which had been appliedto me by the man who had accompanied me to purchase the crutch for thelame girl. "There are depths in you, young sir." There must be depthsin every human creature--a hidden life pulsing beneath the onerevealed to the world. What depths were hidden in Mrs. Fortress's'nature? Had she relatives in some faraway corner, of whom she thoughtwith affection? Had she an ambition, an aspiration? Was she working tosome coveted end? Had she an idea which was not bounded by the wallsof my mother's sick room? Did she love anything in all the wide world?Did she fear anything? Was she capable of an act of devotion andself-sacrifice? Impossible to discover in one so stolid and impassive.
I saw her one day during a great storm standing in the porch of theprincipal entrance, watching with calm eyes the lightning playingamong the trees. She gazed straight and clear before her; there wasnot a sign of blenching. Loud peals of thunder broke over thedistrict; she made no movement. I could not but admire her, for Imyself loved to watch a great storm, and took delight in witnessing aconflict of the elements.
"You enjoy it," I said, going to her side.
She gazed at me, and did not speak. She was evidently surprised atbeing addressed on any but a domestic subject. I felt an inward senseof satisfaction, which I did not allow to appear in my face. To havesurprised a being so cold and impassive was, in its way, anachievement.
"I have heard," I continued, "that most persons are afraid of a stormsuch as this."
"They are cowards," she said. "What is there to be afraid of?"
"That is what I think. You must be brave."
"Nothing frightens me. There are worse storms."
"Oh, yes," I acquiesced. "There was one last year. It struck downhundreds of trees."
"I don't mean storms of that kind."
I thought a moment. "If not in nature, then," I said, "in human life?"She did not reply; she had already said more than she intended. Whatcame next from me, in the form of a question, was entirelyunpremeditated; it escaped from me unaware. "Do you believe in afuture world?"
"It does not trouble me," she said; and she walked into the house, andcast not a look behind.
This portion of my life, when I was growing from childhood to manhood,is quite clear to me. The change in my parents' circumstances affordedme advantages for study which I might not otherwise have enjoyed. Iwas not sent to a private or public school; my education was conductedat home by private tutors, with whom no opportunities offered ofbecoming intimate. Indeed, it appeared to me that they were toofrequently and unnecessarily changed, but I cannot say whether thiswas from design on my father's part, or because my tutors found theirduties distasteful. I think they had no reason to complain of me onthe score of attention; I was too fond of learning to close thewindows of the mind which they assisted me to open. Perhaps thepeculiar rules of our household weighed upon them. We appeared to becut off from our species, to lead a life apart from theirs. Ordinaryamusements and pleasures found no place in Rosemullion. Newspapers andthe current literature of the day were not admitted into our home.Although we were in the midst of busy millions, although a feverish,restless life was throbbing all around us, we took no share in it, andseemed to have no interests in common with our fellow-creatures. Therewas a war which shook the world. Great dynasties were at stake,parliaments were hastily summoned, thousands of men were marching toan untimely death, millions of money were expended, the avenues ofcities were thronged with excited crowds, the history of the world wasstained with blood, battlefields were charged with sobs and cries ofagony, red-hot demagogues fumed and foamed, drums beat, trumpetssounded, gay music, to cast a false sweetness on death, was playedthrough day and night, heroes were made, poets wrote stanzas andimmortalised themselves, the whole world was in convulsion. It touchedus not. Our sympathies, desires, and aspirations were centred in ourown little world. The stone walls which surrounded the estate uponwhich our house and cottage were built were eight feet in height. Ourservants performed their duties almost noiselessly; our gardener wasdeaf and dumb. These conditions of existence could not have beenaccidental; they must have been carefully planned and considered. Forwhat reason? We were rich enough to pay for colour and variety, andyet they were not allowed to enter our lives. We were thrown entirelyupon ourselves and our own narrow resources.
I cannot truthfully say that I was unhappy during those years. We canscarcely miss that to which we are not accustomed, and I have learnedsince that the world is too full of wants for happiness. My passionfor books grew more profound and engros
sing; I grew passionatelyendeared to solitude. There were some fine woods near our house, and Iwas in the habit of wandering in them by day and night. If in thedaylight I heard the sound of voices, or was made aware of theproximity of human creatures, I wandered in the opposite direction. Itwas known that I frequented the woods by day, but my nocturnalramblings were secretly indulged in. Even my father was not aware thatthe nights which should have been devoted to repose were spent in theopen. When all in the house were sleeping, I would steal out andwander for hours in darkness, which had no terrors for me. Shadowstook comprehensive shapes--comprehensive to me, but perhaps not to allmen--and that some were weird and monstrous, like nothing that movedand lived upon the sunlit earth, suited my mood and nature. I did notask myself whether they were or were not creatures of my imagination.I accepted them without question, and I humoured and made sport ofthem; spoke to them, taunted them; dared them to action; asked themtheir mission; and walked among them fearlessly. I loved thesupernatural in book and fancy, and on rare occasions, when I was in astate of spiritual exaltation, a vague belief would steal upon me thatI should one day possess the power of piercing the veil which shutsoff the unseen from mortal eyes. In winter the snow-robed trees,standing like white sentinels in a white eternal night, possessed forme an irresistible fascination. I saw wondrous scenes and pictures.The woods were filled with myriad eyes, gleaming with love, with hate,with joy, with despair; grotesque creatures inhabited every cranny;white spirits lurked among the silvered branches; the frosty starslooked down upon me as upon one of their kindred, and I looked up atthem, and cried in spiritual ecstasy, "Only to you and to me are thesethings visible!"
Thus I lived, as it were, the inner life, and became familiar withhidden beauties and hidden horrors.
Was I, then, so wrapped up in my own narrow self that I shut my eyesand ears to the pulsing of other human life? Not entirely. There wereoccasions when I associated with my fellows.
Thus, on a stormy night in September, when the rain came down intorrents, I heard the sounds of loud entreaty proceeding from outsidethe stone walls of the estate. Had it not been that my sense ofhearing was very acute, and that those who were appealing werescreaming at the top of their voices, it would have been impossiblefor me to hear them. The wind assisted them and me; it blew in thedirection of the chamber in which I sat reading by the light of alamp.
"Some people in distress," I thought, and proceeded with my reading.
The sounds of entreaty continued, grew louder, and more deeplyimploring.
"They will scream themselves hoarse presently," I thought. "Well, I amcomfortable enough."
"Well said, Gabriel, well said!"
Who spoke? Nothing human, for I was the only person awake in house andcottage. Although I was convinced of this I looked around, not in fearbut curiosity. Nothing living was in view.
"Is it well?" I asked aloud. "The sounds proceed most likely from poorpersons who are benighted, and who have not a roof to cover them."
"That is their affair," said the voice.
"The storm is terrible," I continued. "They may perish in it."
The answer came. "They meet their fate. Leave them to their doom. Inthe morning their sufferings will be over."
"And I shall live," I said, "guilty and self-condemned. There is nosuch thing as fate. Human will can save or destroy. They are human,and I will go to them."
The rain and the wind almost blinded me as I walked from my cottage tothe gates. All the while the voices continued to beseech despairinglyand bitterly, calling upon man, calling upon God.
I heard one say, "Hush! There's somebody coming."
The next moment I opened the gates.
"Ah, master," cried a woman, "for the love of God tell us the way toPurvis's huts! Jump down, Jim; you've pretty nigh broke my blade-bonein."
A tall man jumped from the woman's shoulders to the ground. It wasfrom that elevated position he had seen the light in my room.
"I don't know Purvis or his huts," I said. "What are you?"
"Hoppers, master. We're bound for Purvis's gardens, and we thought weshould get to the sleeping huts before night set in; but we missed ourway, and have been tramping through the rain for I don't know how manyhours. I'm soaked through and through, and am ready to drop."
"Why did you not stop at an inn?" I asked.
"None of that!" growled the man, in a threatening tone.
"Be quiet, Jim!" said the woman. "Why didn't we stop at an inn,master? Because in them places they don't give you nothing fornothing, and that's about as much as we've got to offer. We're deadbroke, master."
"We're never nothing else," growled the man.
"Can you help us, master?" asked the woman.
"Ask him if he will," growled the man, "don't ask him if he can."
"Leave it to me, Jim. You're always a-putting your foot into it. Willyou, master, will you?"
"Who is that crying?"
"One of the children, master."
"One of them! How many have you?"
"Five, master."
"Curse 'em!" growled the man.
"Shut up, Jim! The gentleman'll help us for the sake of the young'uns, won't you, sir? They're sopping wet, master, and a-dying ofhunger."
"If I allow you to occupy my room," I said, "and give you food and afire, will you go away quietly when the sun rises?"
"There, Jim; didn't I tell you? We're in luck. Go away quiet when thesun rises, master? Yes, master, yes. Hope I may never see daylightagain if we don't!"
"Come in," I said. "Follow me, and make as little noise as possible."
They followed me quietly to my room. Their eyes dilated when they sawthe fire, upon which I threw a fresh supply of coals.
"God bless you, sir!" said the woman, drawing the children to thefire, before which the man was already crouching.
True enough, there were seven of them. Man, woman, and five children,the youngest a baby, the eldest not more than seven years of age. Agruesome lot. Starving, cunning, in rags; but there was a soft lightin the woman's eyes; she was grateful for the warmth and the prospectof food. The man's eyes were watching me greedily.
"Where is it, master?"
"Where is what?"
"The grub you promised us."
"You shall have it presently."
I noticed that the children's clothes were drying on them, and Isuggested to the woman that she should take them off.
"I've nothing to wrap 'em in, master," she said.
I went into my bedroom, and brought back sheets and blankets, which Igave to the woman. She took them in silence, and carried out mysuggestion. I then made two or three journeys to the larder, andbrought up the food I found there, bread, butter, meat, and theremains of a pie. When I came up for the last time I saw the manstanding, looking round the room.
"He ain't took nothing, master," said the woman, "and sha'n't."
I nodded, and the man resumed his recumbent position before the fire.I handed them the food, and they devoured it wolfishly. They ate morelike animals than human beings.
"Can't you treat us to a mug of beer, master?" asked the man.
"I have no beer," I replied. "I think I can find some tea, if youwould like to have it."
"It's the best thing you could give us, master," said the woman, "andwe shall be thankful for it."
"It's better than nothing," said the man, and was pleased to confess,after he had disposed of a couple of cups--which he emptied down histhroat rather than drank--that I might have offered him somethingworse. When they had eaten their fill they lay down to rest, and inless than three minutes the whole party were fast asleep. "Truly," Ithought, as I gazed upon them, "nature has its compensations!" Theywent away, as they had promised, at sunrise, and when I gave the womana few silver coins, she said gratefully,
"Thank you, master. We're right for four good days, Jim."
I watched them from the gates. They had with them the remains of thefood, and were eating it as they walked, and talking in
gay tones. Iexperienced a sensation of pleasure. The world was not devoid ofsweetness.
A Secret Inheritance (Volume 1 of 3) Page 2
