CHAPTER XIX.
HOW WILL LEVETT WAS DISAPPOINTED.
Thus was Harry Temple at last pacified and brought to reason. In thecourse of a short time he was so far recovered from his passion as todeclare his love for another woman whom he married. This shows howfickle and fleeting are the affections of most men compared with thoseof women; for I am truly of opinion that no woman can love more thanone man in her life, while a man appears capable of loving as manyas he pleases all at once or in turn, as the fancy seizes him. CouldSolomon have loved in very truth the whole seven hundred?
When I was no longer harassed by Harry's gloomy face and jealousreproaches, I thought that the time was come when I ought to considerhow I should impart to my lord a knowledge of the truth, and I saidto myself, day after day: "To-morrow morning I will do it;" and in themorning I said: "Nay, but in the evening." And sometimes I thought towrite it and sometimes to tell it him by word of mouth. Yet the dayspassed and I did not tell him, being a coward, and rejoicing in thesunshine of his love and kindness, which I could not bear to lose orput in any danger.
And now you shall hear how this delay was the cause of a most dreadfulaccident, which had well-nigh ruined and lost us altogether.
I could not but remember, when Harry Temple reproached me withfalsehood and faithlessness, that Will Levett had made use of nearlythe same words, making allowance for Will's rusticity. The suspiciondid certainly cross my mind, more than once, that Will may have meant(though I understood him not) the same thing as Harry. And I rememberedhow he pulled a sixpence out of his pocket and gave me the half, whichI threw upon the table unheeding, though every girl knows that a brokensixpence is a pledge of betrothal. But I was in such great trouble andanxiety, that I thought nothing of it and remembered nothing for longafterwards. Yet if Harry came to claim a supposed promise at my hands,why should not Will? which would be a thing much worse to meet, becauseHarry was now amenable to reason, and by means of the strait-waistcoatand bucket of cold water, with a little talk, I had persuaded him toadopt a wiser course. But no reason ever availed anything with Will,save the reason of desire or the opposition of superior force. As aboy, he took everything he wanted, unless he could be prevented by ahearty flogging; and he bullied every other boy save those who could bysuperior strength compel him to behave properly. I have already shownhow he treated us when we were children and when we had grown up tobe great girls. So that, with this suspicion, and remembering Will'sdreadful temper and his masterfulness, I felt uneasy indeed when Nancytold me that her brother was coming to Epsom.
"We shall be horribly ashamed of him," she said, laughing, thoughvexed. "Indeed, I doubt if we shall be able to show our faces on theTerrace, after Will has been here a day or two. Because, my dear, hewill thrash the men-servants, kiss the girls, insult the company--someof whom will certainly run him through the body, while some he willbeat with his cudgel--get drunk in the taverns, and run an Indian muckthrough the dance at the Assembly Rooms. I have told my father thatthe best thing for him to do is to pretend that Will is no relation ofours at all, only a rustic from our parish bearing the same name; orperhaps we might go on a visit to London for a fortnight, so as to getout of his way; and that, I think, would be the best. Kitty! think ofWill marching up and down the Terrace, a dozen dogs after him, his wiguncombed, his hunting-coat stained with mud, halloing and bawling ashe goes, carrying an enormous club like Hercules--he certainly is verymuch like Hercules--his mouth full of countrified oaths. However, hedoes not like fine folks, and will not often show among us. And whilewe are dancing in the rooms, he will be sitting at the door of a tavernmostly, smoking a pipe of tobacco and taking a mug of October with anywho will sit beside him and hear his tales of badgers, ferrets, anddogs. Well, fortunately, no one can deny the good blood of the Levetts,which will, we hope, come out again in Will's children; and my fatheris a baronet of James the First's creation, otherwise it would go hardwith our gentility."
"When do you expect him to come?"
"He sends word that he may come to-night or to-morrow, bringing withhim a horse which he proposes to match upon the Downs with any horse atEpsom for thirty guineas a side. One match has been already fixed, andwill be run the next day, provided both horses are fresh. I hope Willwill not cheat, as he was accused of doing at Maidstone. I suppose weshall all have to go to the Downs to see. Why do men like horse-racing,I wonder? Crack goes the whip, the horses rush past, the people shout,the race is over. Give me enjoyment which lasts a little longer, suchas a good country dance, or a few words with Peggy Baker on theTerrace."
"Does Will know that I am here?" I asked.
"I suppose not," she replied. "Why, my dear, how is Will to knowanything? My father laid out large sums upon his education. Yet the endof all is that he never reads anything, not even books on Farriery.As for letters, he is well known not to read those which my mothersometimes sends him; and as for sending any himself, I believe he hasforgotten the art of writing. He does everything by word of mouth, likethe savages. Perhaps he remembers how to read, because he cannot forgethis sufferings over the criss-cross-row and horn-book. Will, Kitty, isan early Briton; he should be dressed in wool and painted with woad;he lives by preference in a stable or a kennel; he ought to have thebody and tail and legs of a horse, then he could stay in the stablealtogether and be happy."
Perhaps, I thought, he would not know me again. But in this I wasdeceived, as shall be presently shown.
Well, then, knowing that Nancy would help me in this possible trouble,I told her exactly what happened between Will and myself, just as I hadtold her about Harry, and asked her advice.
It might be that Will had clean forgotten his words, or it might bethat he had changed his mind; he might have fallen in love with somegirl of the village, or he might find me changed and no longer care forpressing his suit.
Nancy looked grave.
"My brother Will," she said, "is as obstinate as he is pig-headed. Iam afraid he will expect you to fulfil the engagement which he maythink he has made. Never mind, my dear; do not think of it to distressyourself. If he is obstinate, so are you. He cannot marry you againstyour will."
He came the next morning, riding into town, followed by two servants,one of whom led the famous horse which was to ride the race.
"There," whispered Nancy, "is my brother Will."
We were standing in the church porch after morning prayers, when hecame clattering down the street. He was really a handsome man for thosewho like a man to be like Hercules for strength, to have full rosycheeks which later in life become fat and purple, a resolute eye, and astrong, straight chin which means obstinacy.
"Oh, how strong he is!" said Nancy, looking after him. "He could crushtogether half-a-dozen of our beaux and fribbles between his fingers,and break all their ribs with a single flourish of his cudgel. Well,Will!" she added, as her brother rode out of sight, "we shall meetat dinner, I dare say. Do you remember, Kitty, how he would teaseand torment us, and make us cry? There ought to be no brothers andsisters at all--the girls should grow up in one house, and the boys inanother--they should never meet till they are old enough to be lovers,and never be together when they are too old to be lovers. Fancy thestupidity of philosophers in putting men and women under the samename, and calling us all humanity, or mankind, as their impudent wayis of putting it. What have they in common? Man drinks, and gambles,and fights--woman sits at home and loves peace and moderation: manwastes--woman saves: man loves to admire--we love to be admired. Whatsingle quality have we in common except a desire to be amiable and seempleasing to the other sex?"
"Very likely," I replied, thinking of something else. "No doubt he haslong since forgotten the sixpence. No doubt he thinks no more of me orthe sixpence either."
I saw nothing of him that day, because he had so much to do with hisstable, and so much to attend to in the matter of his race, that hedid not appear upon the Terrace or at the Assembly Room. Harry Templeshrugged his shoulders when I asked him if he had seen Will.
/> "I saw him," he said, "engaged in his usual occupations. He had justcudgelled a stable-boy, was swearing at a groom, rubbing down hisracehorse with his own hands, and superintending the preparation of awarm mash for his hack. He seems perfectly happy."
It was agreed, in spite of my fears, that we should make a party tosee this race the next morning. Nowadays it is no longer the _mode_to seek health at Epsom Wells and on Banstead Downs. The votaries offashion go to Bath and Tunbridge; the old Wells are deserted, I hearthat the Assembly Rooms have fallen into decay, and there are no longerthe Monday public breakfast, the card-table, the music, the dancing,which made the place a little heaven for the young in those times whenI myself was young. But in one respect Epsom has grown more frequentedand more renowned every year:
"On Epsom Downs, when racing does begin, Large companies from every part come in."
The spring races were in April, and the summer races in June; but therewas a constant racing all the year round with the horses of countrygentlemen. They would bring them to make matches with all comers, atsuch stakes as they could afford to venture on the horses; and in themorning the company would crowd upon the Downs in goodly numbers tobet upon the race, and shout to the winner. Sometimes ladies would gotoo; not out of any love for the sport, or interest in horses, butto please their lovers--a desire which is the cause of many a prettymaid's sudden liking for some manly sport. I have known them even showan interest in such rough sports as badger-drawing and otter-hunting:they have been seen to ride after hounds in the midst of the hallosand horns of the hunters: they have even gone with the gentlemen onshooting-parties. Thus there were plenty of girls at Epsom ready toplease their gallants by standing about on the Downs (where the windplays havoc with powder and paint, and destroys irretrievably thefabric of a head), while the panting horses were spurred over the longcourse by the jockeys, and the backers cried and shouted.
Lord Chudleigh took little joy in this kind of sport, which, perhaps,is a reason why I also disliked the sight. Nancy, also, as well asmyself, cared but little to see this famous Epsom sport; nor, indeed,did any of the ladies who formed part of our more intimate company.But on this occasion, as Will was to run a three-year-old of his owntraining, and as he was going to ride the horse himself, and hadstaked thirty guineas (beside bets) upon the event, it was judged aduty owed to him by the family that all should go. Mrs. Esther wentout of respect to Lady Levett; Mr. Stallabras, because he rememberedhow Pindar had sung of the Olympian Games, and was suddenly fired withthe desire of writing a Pindaric Ode upon the Epsom contests. Now,it behoves a poet who sings of a horse-race, first to witness one.Therefore he came to see how it would lend itself to modern metaphor.Sir Miles came because he could get the chance of a few bets upon therace, and because, when there were no cards to the fore, he liked, hesaid, to hear me talk. Harry Temple came, grumbling and protesting thatfor men of learning and fashion nothing was more barbarous and tediousthan this sport. Could we have had chariot-racing, with athletic gamesafter the manner of the ancients, he would have been pleased. As itwas, he hoped that Will would win, but feared that a clown and hismoney were soon parted; with other remarks equally good-natured.
The race was to be run at half-past eleven. We had chairs for suchas preferred being carried, but the younger ladies walked. We made agallant procession as we came upon the course, all the ladies wearingWill's colours, which were red and blue. They had railed off a piece ofground where the better sort could stand without being molested by thecrowd which always congregates when a great race is to be run. Indeed,on this occasion, it seemed as if all the idle fellows for twenty milesround had gathered together on the Downs with one consent, and withthem half the rustics of the villages, the tradesmen and workmen ofEpsom, Leatherhead, and Dorking, and the greater part of the companyat the Wells. There were gipsies to tell our fortunes or steal ourpoultry--but I, for one, had had enough already of fortune-telling fromthe tent of the pretended Wizard of the masquerade: there were Italiansleading a bear: there were a couple of rough men with a bull which waspresently to be baited: a canvas enclosure was run up on poles, withinwhich the Cornish giant would wrestle all comers at sixpence a throw:another, where a prize-fight would be held, admittance one shilling,with twopence each for the defeated man: a puppet play was shown fora penny: for twopence you might see a rare piece of art, the subjectof which I know not: and in wax, the histories of Fair Rosamond andSusanna. Other amusements there were. I, at first, took all in honourof Will and his race, but presently learned that a fair had been heldat Leatherhead the day before, and that these people, hearing of whatwas forward, came over to get what could be picked up. And, as one foolmakes many, the knowledge of their coming, with the race for an excuse,brought out all the country people, mouth agape, as is their wont.
The horses presently rode out of the paddock--a place where they weigh,dress, put on the saddles, and adjust the preliminaries. Will in hiscap pulled over his ears like a nightcap (because a jockey wears nowig), and in silk jacket, striped with blue and red, riding as if hewas part of the animal he sat, looked in his true place. Ever afterI have thought of the gallant show he made, while with left handholding the whip, he bridled the beautiful creature, which but for hiscontrol would have been bounding and galloping over the plain. But theyexplained to us that racehorses know when racing is meant, and behaveaccordingly, save that they cannot always be refrained from startingbefore the time.
Will's rival and competitor, whose name I forget (but I had never seenhim before), was a man of slighter figure, who rode equally well, butdid not at the same time appear to such advantage on horseback. LordChudleigh explained to us that while Will rode naturally, sitting hishorse as if he understood what the creature wished to do, and where hewanted to go; the other man sat him by rule of thumb, as if the horsewas to understand his master and not the master his horse. I haveridden a great deal since then, and I know, now, the justice of mylord's remarks, though I own that this perfect understanding betweenhorse and rider is not commonly found; and for my own part I rememberbut one horse, three parts Arabian, with which I ever arrived at acomplete understanding. Even with him the understanding was onesided,and ended in his always going whithersoever he pleased.
The adversary's colours were white and green; pretty colours, thoughbad for the complexion of women; so that I was glad Will's were suitedto the roses of our cheeks.
They began by riding up and down for a quarter of an hour, Will lookingmighty important, stroking his horse, patting his neck, talking to him,checking him when he broke into a canter or a gallop. The other man (hein white and green) had trouble to keep his horse from fairly boltingwith him, which he did for a little distance more than once.
Then the starters took their places, and the judge his, in front of thewinning-post, and the horses started.
White and green led for a quarter of a mile; but Will was close behind:it was pretty to see the eagerness of the horses--how they pressedforward with straining necks.
"Will is holding back," cried Harry, with flashing eyes. "Wait tillthey are over the hill."
"I feel like Pindar," cried Mr. Stallabras. "Would that Mr. Levett wasHiero of Syracuse!"
"O Will!" exclaimed Nancy, as if he could hear. "Spur up your horse! Ifyou lose the race I will never forgive you."
We all stood with parted lips and beating hearts. Yes; we understoodthe joy of horse-racing: the uncertainty of the struggle: the ambitionof the noble creatures: the eagerness of the riders: their skill: theircoolness: the shouts of the people--ah! the race is over.
Just before the finish, say two hundred yards the other side of thewinning-post, Will rose in his saddle, plied whip, and cried to hishorse. It answered with a rush, as if struck by a sudden determinationto be first: the other horse, a little tired perhaps, bounded onwardas well; but Will took the lead and kept it. In a moment the race wasfinished, and Will rode gallantly past us, ahead by a whole length,amid the cheers and applause of the people.
When the r
ace was finished the visitors ran backward and forwards,congratulating or condoling with each other. Many a long face waspulled as the bets were paid: many a jolly face broadened and becamemore jolly as the money went into pocket. And then I saw what is meantby the old saying about money made over the devil's back. For thosewho lost, lost outright, which cannot be denied: but those who wonimmediately took their friends to the booths where beer and wine andrum were sold, and straightway got rid of a portion of their winnings.No doubt the rest went in the course of the day in debauchery. So thatthe money won upon the race benefited no one except the people who solddrink. And they, to my mind, are the last persons whom one would wishto benefit, considering what a dreadful thing in this country is thecurse of drink.
If Will looked a gallant rider on horseback, he cut but a sorry figureamong the gentlemen when he came forth from the paddock, having takenoff his jacket and put on again his wig, coat, and waistcoat. For hewalked heavily, rolling in his gait (as a ploughboy not a sailor), andhis clothes were muddy and disordered, while his wig was awry. LadyLevett beckoned to him, and he came towards us sheepishly bold, as isthe way with rustic gentlemen.
"So, Will," shouted his father heartily, "thou hast won the match. Wellrode, my boy!"
"Well rode!" cried all. "Well rode!"
He received our congratulations with a grin of satisfaction, salutingthe company with a grin, and his knuckles to his forehead like ajockey. On recovering, he examined us all leisurely.
"Ay," he said. "There you are, Harry, talking to the women about booksand poetry and stuff. What good is that when a race is on? Might aswell have stayed at Cambridge. Well, Nancy--oh! I warrant you, so fineas no one in the country would know you. Fine feathers make finebirds, and----" here he saw me, and stared hard with his mouth open."Gad so!--it's Kitty! Hoop! Hollo!" Upon this he put both hands to hismouth and raised such a shout that we all stopped our ears, and thedogs barked and ran about furiously, as if in search of a fox. "Foundagain! Kitty, I am right glad to see thee. Did I ride well? Were youproud to see me coming in by a neck? Thinks I, 'I don't care who'slooking on, but I'll show them Will Levett knows how to ride.' If I'dknown it was you I would have landed the stakes by three clear lengths,I would. Let me look at thee, Kitty. Now, gentlemen, by your leave." Heshoved aside Lord Chudleigh, and Harry, and pushed between them. "Letme look at thee well--ay! more fine feathers--but"--here he swore greatoaths--"there never was anything beneath them but the finest of birdsever hatched."
"Thank you, Will, for the compliment," I began.
"Why, if any one should compliment you, Kitty, who but I?"
I thought of the broken sixpence and trembled.
"A most pretty speech indeed," said Peggy Baker. "Another of MissPleydell's swains, I suppose?"
"My brother," said Nancy, "has been Kitty's swain since he was oldenough to walk; that is, about the time when Kitty was born. He is asold a swain as Mr. Temple here."
"I don't know naught about swains," said Will, "but I'm Kitty'ssweetheart. And if any man says nay to that, why let him step to thefront, and we'll have that business settled on the grass, and no timewasted."
"Brother," cried Nancy, greatly incensed by a remark of such lowbreeding, "remember that you are here among gentlemen, who do not fightwith cudgels and fists for the favours of ladies."
"Nay, dear Miss Levett," said Peggy, laughing; "I find Mr. Williamvastly amusing. No doubt we might have a contest, a tournament afterthe manner of the ancients, with Miss Pleydell as the Queen of Beauty,to give her favours to the conquering knight. I believe we can oftenwitness a battle with swords and pistols, if we get up early enough,in Hyde Park; but a duel with fists and cudgels would be much moreentertaining."
"Thank you, miss," said Will. "I should like to see the man who wouldstand up against me."
"I think," Lord Chudleigh interposed, "that as no one is likely togratify this gentleman's strange invitation, we may return to the town.Miss Pleydell, we wait your orders."
Will was about to say something rude, when his sister seized him by thearm and whispered in his ear.
"O Lord! a lord!" he cried. "I beg your lordship's pardon. There, thatis just like you, Nancy, not to tell me at the beginning. Well, Kitty,I am going to look after the horse. Then I will come to see thee."
"Your admirer is a bucolic of an order not often found among the sonsof such country gentlemen as Sir Robert Levett," said Lord Chudleighpresently.
"He is addicted to horses and dogs, and he seems to consider that hemay claim--or show--some sort of equal attachment to me," I answered.
Then I told him the story of the broken sixpence, and how I becameengaged, without knowing it, to both Harry Temple and Will Levett onthe same day.
My lord laughed, and then became grave.
"I do not wonder," he said, "that all classes of men have fallen inlove with the sweetest and most charming of her sex. That does notsurprise me. Still, though we have disposed of Mr. Temple, who is, Iam bound to say, a gentleman open to reason, there may be more troublewith this headstrong country lad, who is evidently in sober earnest, asI saw from his eyes. What shall we do, Kitty?"
"My lord," I whispered, "let me advise for your safety. Withdrawyourself for a while from Epsom. Give up Durdans and go to London. Icould not bear to see you embroiled with this rude and boisterousclown. Oh, how could such a woman as Lady Levett have such a son? Leaveme to deal with him as best I can."
But he laughed at this. To be sure, fear had no part in the compositionof this noble, this incomparable man.
"Should I run away because a rustic says he loves my Kitty?" But thenhis forehead clouded again. "Yet, alas! for my folly and my crime, Imay not call her my Kitty."
"Oh yes, my lord! Call me always thine. Indeed, I am all thine own, ifonly I could think myself worthy."
We were walking together, the others a little distance behind us, andhe could do no more than touch my fingers with his own. Alas! the verytouch of his fingers caused a delightful tremor to run through myveins--so helplessly, so deeply was I in love with him.
Thus we walked, not hand-in-hand, yet from time to time our handsmet: and thus we talked, not as betrothed lovers, yet as lovers: thusmy lord spoke to me, confiding to me his most secret affairs, hisprojects, and his ambitions, as no man can tell them save to a woman heloves. Truly, it was a sweet and delicious time. I fondly turn to itnow, after so many years, not, Heaven knows! with regret, any more thanSeptember, rich in golden harvest and laden orchards, regrets the sweetand tender April, when all the gardens were white and pink with theblossoms of plum and pear and apple, and the fields were green with thespringing barley, oats, and wheat. Yet a dear, delightful time, onlyspoiled by that skeleton in the cupboard, that consciousness that theonly person who stood between my lord and his happiness was--the womanhe loved. Heard man ever so strange, so pitiful a case?
At the foot of the hill Lord Chudleigh left us, and turned in thedirection of Durdans, where he remained all that day, coming not tothe Assembly in the evening. Mrs. Esther and I went home together todinner, and I know not who was the better pleased with the sport andthe gaiety of the morning, my kind madam or Cicely, the maid, who hadbeen upon the Downs and had her fortune told by the gipsies, and it wasa good one.
"But, my dear," said Mrs. Esther, "it is strange indeed that so loutishand countrified a bumpkin should be the son of parents so well-bred asSir Robert and Lady Levett."
"Yet," I said, "the loutish bumpkin would have me marry him. Dear lady,would you wish your Kitty to be the wife of a man who loves the stablefirst, the kennel next, and his wife after his horses and his dogs?"
After dinner, as I expected, Will Levett called in person. He had beendrinking strong ale with his dinner, and his speech was thick.
"Your servant, madam," he said to Mrs. Esther. "I want speech, if I mayhave it, with Miss Kitty, alone by herself, for all she sits with herfinger in her mouth yonder, as if she was not jumping with joy to seeme again."
"Sir!" I cried.<
br />
"Oh! I know your ways and tricks. No use pretending with me. Yet I likethem to be skittish. It is their nature to. For all your fine frocks,you're none of you any better than Molly the blacksmith's girl, orSukey at the Mill. Never mind, my girl. Be as fresh and frolic as youplease. I like you the better for it--before we are married."
"Kitty dear," cried Mrs. Esther in alarm, "what does this gentlemanmean?"
"I do not know, dear madam. Pray, Will, if you can, explain what youmean?"
"Explain? explain? Why----" here he swore again, but I will not writedown his profane and wicked language. Suffice it to say that he calledheaven and earth to witness his astonishment. "Why, you mean to look mein the face and tell me you don't know?"
"We are old friends, Will," I said, "and I should like, for Nancy'ssake, and because Lady Levett has been almost a mother to me, outof her extreme kindness, that we should remain friends. But when agentleman salutes me before a company of gentlemen and ladies as hissweetheart, when he talks of fighting other gentlemen--like a rusticon a village green----"
"Wouldst have me fight with swords and likely as not get killed, then?"he asked.
"When he assumes these rights over me, I can ask, I think, for anexplanation."
"Certainly," said Mrs. Esther. "We are grieved, sir, to have even amoment's disagreement with the son of so honourable a gentleman and sogracious a lady as your respected father and worthy mother, but youwill acknowledge that your behaviour on the Downs was startling to ayoung woman of such strict propriety as my dear Kitty."
He looked from one to the other as if in a dream.
Then he put his hand into his pocket and dragged out the half sixpence.
"What's that?" he asked me furiously.
"A broken sixpence, Will," I replied.
"Where is the other half?"
"Perhaps where it was left, on the table in the parlour of theVicarage."
"What!" he cried; "do you mean to say that you didn't break thesixpence with me?"
"Do you mean to say, Will, that I did? As for you breaking it, I do notdeny that: I remember that you snapped it between your fingers withoutasking me anything about it; but to say that I broke it, or assented toyour breaking it, or carried away the other half--Fie, Will, fie!"
"This wench," he said, "is enough to drive a man mad. Yet, for all yourfine clothes and your paint and powder, Mistress Kitty, I've promisedto marry you. And marry you I will. Put that in your pipe, now."
"Marry me against my consent, Will? That can hardly be."
"Is it possible," cried Mrs. Esther, seriously displeased, "that wehave in this rude and discourteous person a son of Sir Robert Levett?"
"I never was crossed by woman or man or puppy yet," cried Willdoggedly, and taking no notice whatever of Mrs. Esther's rebuke; "andI never will be! Why, for a whole year and more I've been makingpreparations for it. I've broke in the colt out of Rosamund by Samsonand called him Kit, for you to ride. I've told the people round, soas anybody knows there's no pride in me, that I'm going to marry aparson's girl, without a farden, thof a baronet to be----"
Will easily dropped into rustic language, where I do not always followhim.
"Oh, thank you, Will. That is kind indeed. But I would rather seeyou show the pride due to your rank and birth. You ought to refuseto marry a parson's girl. Or, if you are resolved to cast away yourpride, there's many a farmer's girl--there's Jenny of the Mill, or theblacksmith's Sue: more proper persons for you, I am sure, and morecongenial to your tastes than the parson's girl."
"I don't mind your sneering--not a whit, I don't," he replied. "Waittill we're married, and I warrant you shall see who's got the upperhand! There'll be mighty little sneering then, I promise you."
This brutal and barbarous speech made me angry.
"Now, Will," I said, "get up and go away. We have had enough of yourrustic insolence. Why, sir, it is a disgrace that a gentleman shouldbe such a clown. Go away from Epsom: leave a company for which yourrudeness and ill-temper do not fit you: go back to your mug-house,your pipe, your stables, and your kennels. If you think of marrying,wed with one of your own rank. Do you hear, sir? one of your own rank!Gentle born though you are, clown and churl is your nature. As for me,I was never promised to you; and if I had been, the spectacle of thisamazing insolence would break a thousand promises."
He answered by an oath. But his eyes were full of dogged determinationwhich I knew of old; and I was terrified, wondering what he would do.
"I remember, when you were a boy, your self-will and heedlessness ofyour sister and myself. But we are grown up now, sir, as well asyourself, and you shall find that we are no longer your servants. What!am I to marry this clown----"
"You shall pay for this!" said Will. "Wait a bit; you shall pay!"
"Am I to obey the command of this rude barbarian, and become his wife;not to cross him, but to obey him in all his moods, because he willsit? Are you, pray, the Great Bashaw?"
"Mr. Levett," said Mrs. Esther, "I think you had better go. The Kittyyou knew was a young and tender child; she is now a grown woman, with,I am happy to say, a resolution of her own. Nor is she the pennilessgirl that you suppose, but my heiress; though not a Pimpernel by blood,yet a member of as good and honourable a house as yourself."
He swore again in his clumsy country fashion that he never yet wasbaulked by woman, and would yet have his way; whereas, so far as he wasa prophet (I am translating his rustic language into polite English)those who attempted to say him nay would in the long-run find reasonto repent with bitterness their own mistaken action. All his friends,he said, knew Will Levett. No white-handed, slobbering, tea-drinkinghanger-on to petticoats was he; not so: he was very well known toentertain that contempt for women which is due to a man who values hisself-respect and scorns lies, finery, and make-believe fine speeches.And it was also very well known to all the country-side that, give himbut a fleer and a flout, he was ready with a cuff side o' the head; andif more was wanted, with a yard of tough ash, or a fist that weighedmore than most. As for drink, he could toss it off with the best, andcarry as much; as for racing, we had seen what he could do and howgallant a rider he was; and for hunting, shooting, badger-baiting,bull-baiting, dog-fighting, and cocking, there was not, he was readyto assure us, his match in all the country. Why, then, should a man,of whom his country was proud--no mealy-mouthed, Frenchified, finegentleman, of whom he would fight a dozen at once, so great was hiscourage--be sent about his business by a couple of women? He wouldlet us know! He pitied our want of discernment, and was sorry for thesufferings which it would bring upon one of us, meaning Kitty; of whichsufferings he was himself to be the instrument.
When he had finished this harangue he banged out of the room furiously,and we heard him swearing on the stairs and in the passage, insomuchthat Cicely and her mother came up from the kitchen, and the formerthreatened to bring up her mop if he did not instantly withdraw orcease from terrifying the ladies by such dreadful words.
"My dear," said Mrs. Esther, "we have heard, alas! so many oaths thatwe do not greatly fear them. Yet this young man is violent, and I willto Lady Levett, there to complain about her son."
She put on her hat, and instantly walked to Sir Robert's lodgings, whenbefore the baronet, Lady Levett, and Nancy she laid her tale.
"I know not," said Lady Levett, weeping, "what hath made our son soself-willed and so rustical. From a child he has chosen the kennelrather than the hall, and stable-boys for companions rather thangentlemen."
"Will is rough," said his father, "but I cannot believe that he woulddo any hurt to Kitty, whom he hath known (and perhaps in his way loved)for so long."
"Will is obstinate," said Nancy, "and he is proud and revengeful. Hehas told all his friends that he was about to marry Kitty. When he goeshome again he will have to confess that he has been sent away."
"Yet it would be a great match for Kitty," said Will's mother.
"No, madam, with submission," said Mrs. Esther. "The disparity of rankis not
so great, as your ladyship will own, and Kitty will have all mymoney. The real disparity is incompatibility of sentiment."
"Father," said Nancy, "you must talk to Will. And, Mrs. Pimpernel, takecare that Kitty be well guarded."
Sir Robert remonstrated with his son. He pointed out, in plainterms, that the language he had used and the threats he had made weresuch as to show him to be entirely unfitted to be the husband of anygentlewoman: that Kitty was, he had reason to believe, promised toanother man: that it was absurd of him to suppose that a claim couldbe founded on words addressed to a child overcome with grief at thedeath of her father. He spoke gravely and seriously, but he might havepreached to the pigs for all the good he did.
Will replied that he meant to marry Kitty, and he would marry her: thathe would brain any man who stood in his way: that he never yet wascrossed by a woman, and he never would; with more to the same effect,forgetting the respect due to his father.
Sir Robert, not losing his patience, as he would have been perfectlyjustified in doing, went on to remonstrate with his son upon theposition which he was born to illustrate, and the duties which thatinvolved. Foremost among these, he said, were respect and deference tothe weaker sex. Savages and barbarous men, he reminded him, use womenwith as little consideration as they use slaves; indeed, because womenare weak, they are, among wild tribes, slaves by birth. "But," he said,"for a gentleman in this age of politeness to speak of forcing a ladyto marry him against her will is a thing unheard of."
"Why, lad," he continued, "when I was at thy years, I would havescorned to think of a woman whose affections were otherwise bestowed.It would have been a thing due to my own dignity, if not to the lawsof society, to leave her and look elsewhere. And what hath poor Kittydone, I pray? Mistaken an offer of marriage (being then a mere childand chit of sixteen) for an offer of friendship. Will, Will, turn thyheart to a better mood."
Will said that it was no use talking, because his mind was made up:that he was a true Kentishman, and a British bull-dog. Holdfast washis name: when he made up his mind that he was going to get anything,that thing he would have: that, as for Kitty, he could no more showhimself back upon the village-green, or in the village inn, or at anycock-fighting, bull-baiting, badger-drawing, or horse-race in thecountry-side, unless he had brought home Kitty as his wife. Wherefore,he wanted no more ado, but let the girl come to her right mind, andfollow to heel, when she would find him (give him his own way, and nocursed contrariness) the best husband in the world. But, if not----
Then Sir Robert spoke to other purpose. If, he told his son, hemolested Kitty in any way whatever, he would, in his capacity asjustice of the peace, have him instantly turned out of the town; if heoffered her any insult, or showed the least violence to her friends, hepromised him, upon his honour, to disinherit him.
"You may drink and smoke tobacco with your grooms and stable-boys athome," he said. "I have long been resigned to that. But if you disgraceyour name in this place, as sure as you bear that name, you shall nolonger be heir to aught but a barren title."
Will answered not, but walked away with dogged looks.
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