CHAPTER XVI
GLOOMY FOREBODINGS--THE POSTMAN'S MOTHER--THE LETTER--BEARS ANDBARONS--THE BEST OF ADVICE
Nothing occurred to me of any particular moment during the following day.Isopel Berners did not return; but Mr. Petulengro and his companions camehome from the fair early in the morning. When I saw him, which was aboutmid-day, I found him with his face bruised and swelled. It appeared thatsome time after I had left him, he himself perceived that the jockeyswith whom he was playing cards were cheating him and his companion, aquarrel ensued, which terminated in a fight between Mr. Petulengro andone of the jockeys, which lasted some time, and in which Mr. Petulengro,though he eventually came off victor, was considerably beaten. Hisbruises, in conjunction with his pecuniary loss, which amounted to aboutseven pounds, were the cause of his being much out of humour; beforenight, however, he had returned to his usual philosophic frame of mind,and, coming up to me as I was walking about, apologized for his behaviouron the preceding day, and assured me that he was determined, from thattime forward, never to quarrel with a friend for giving him good advice.
Two more days passed, and still Isopel Berners did not return. Gloomythoughts and forebodings filled my mind. During the day I wandered aboutthe neighbouring roads in the hopes of catching an early glimpse of herand her returning vehicle; and at night lay awake, tossing about on myhard couch, listening to the rustle of every leaf, and occasionallythinking that I heard the sound of her wheels upon the distant road.Once at midnight, just as I was about to fall into unconsciousness, Isuddenly started up, for I was convinced that I heard the sound ofwheels. I listened most anxiously, and the sound of wheels strikingagainst stones was certainly plain enough. 'She comes at last,' thoughtI, and for a few moments I felt as if a mountain had been removed from mybreast;--'here she comes at last, now, how shall I receive her? Oh,'thought I, 'I will receive her rather coolly, just as if I was notparticularly anxious about her--that's the way to manage these women.'The next moment the sound became very loud, rather too loud, I thought,to proceed from her wheels, and then by degrees became fainter. Rushingout of my tent, I hurried up the path to the top of the dingle, where Iheard the sound distinctly enough, but it was going from me, andevidently proceeded from something much larger than the cart of Isopel.I could, moreover, hear the stamping of a horse's hoof at a lumberingtrot. Those only whose hopes have been wrought up to a high pitch, andthen suddenly dashed down, can imagine what I felt at that moment; andyet when I returned to my lonely tent, and lay down on my hard pallet,the voice of conscience told me that the misery I was then undergoing, Ihad fully merited, from the unkind manner in which I had intended toreceive her, when for a brief minute I supposed that she had returned.
It was on the morning after this affair, and the fourth, if I forget not,from the time of Isopel's departure, that, as I was seated on my stone atthe bottom of the dingle, getting my breakfast, I heard an unknown voicefrom the path above--apparently that of a person descending--exclaim,'Here's a strange place to bring a letter to;' and presently an oldwoman, with a belt round her middle, to which was attached a leathernbag, made her appearance, and stood before me.
'Well, if I ever!' said she, as she looked about her. 'My goodgentlewoman,' said I, 'pray what may you please to want?' 'Gentlewoman!'said the old dame, 'please to want!--well, I call that speaking civilly,at any rate. It is true, civil words cost nothing; nevertheless, we donot always get them. What I please to want is to deliver a letter to ayoung man in this place; perhaps you be he?' 'What's the name on theletter?' said I, getting up and going to her. 'There is no name uponit,' said she, taking a letter out of her scrip, and looking at it. 'Itis directed to the young man in Mumper's Dingle.' 'Then it is for me, Imake no doubt,' said I, stretching out my hand to take it. 'Please topay me ninepence first,' said the old woman. 'However,' said she,'civility is civility, and, being rather a scarce article, should meetwith some return. Here's the letter, young man, and I hope you will payfor it; for if you do not I must pay the postage myself.' 'You are thepostwoman, I suppose,' said I, as I took the letter. 'I am the postman'smother,' said the old woman; 'but as he has a wide beat, I help him asmuch as I can, and I generally carry letters to places like this, towhich he is afraid to come himself.' 'You say the postage is ninepence,'said I, 'here's a shilling.' 'Well, I call that honourable,' said theold woman, taking the shilling, and putting it into her pocket--'here'syour change, young man,' said she, offering me threepence. 'Pray keepthat for yourself,' said I; 'you deserve it for your trouble.' 'Well, Icall that genteel,' said the old woman; 'and as one good turn deservesanother, since you look as if you couldn't read, I will read your letterfor you. Let's see it; it's from some young woman or other, I dare say.''Thank you,' said I, 'but I can read.' 'All the better for you,' saidthe old woman; 'your being able to read will frequently save you a penny,for that's the charge I generally make for reading letters; though as youbehaved so genteely to me, I should have charged you nothing. Well, ifyou can read, why don't you open the letter, instead of keeping ithanging between your finger and thumb?' 'I am in no hurry to open it,'said I, with a sigh. The old woman looked at me for a moment--'Well,young man,' said she, 'there are some--especially those who can read--whodon't like to open their letters when anybody is by, more especially whenthey come from young women. Well, I won't intrude upon you, but leaveyou alone with your letter. I wish it may contain something pleasant.God bless you,' and with these words she departed.
I sat down on my stone, with my letter in my hand. I knew perfectly wellthat it could have come from no other person than Isopel Berners; butwhat did the letter contain? I guessed tolerably well what its purportwas--an eternal farewell! yet I was afraid to open the letter, lest myexpectation should be confirmed. There I sat with the letter, puttingoff the evil moment as long as possible. At length I glanced at thedirection, which was written in a fine bold hand, and was directed, asthe old woman had said, to the young man in 'Mumper's Dingle,' with theaddition near ---, in the county of ---. Suddenly the idea occurred tome, that, after all, the letter might not contain an eternal farewell,and that Isopel might have written, requesting me to join her. Could itbe so?' 'Alas! no,' presently said Foreboding. At last I became ashamedof my weakness. The letter must be opened sooner or later. Why not atonce? So as the bather who, for a considerable time has stood shiveringon the bank, afraid to take the decisive plunge, suddenly takes it, Itore open the letter almost before I was aware. I had no sooner done sothan a paper fell out. I examined it; it contained a lock of brightflaxen hair. 'This is no good sign,' said I, as I thrust the lock andpaper into my bosom, and proceeded to read the letter, which ran asfollows:
'TO THE YOUNG MAN IN MUMPER'S DINGLE.
SIR,
I send these lines, with the hope and trust that they will find you well, even as I am myself at this moment, and in much better spirits, for my own are not such as I could wish they were, being sometimes rather hysterical and vapourish, and at other times, and most often, very low. I am at a sea-port, and am just going on shipboard; and when you get these I shall be on the salt waters, on my way to a distant country, and leaving my own behind me, which I do not expect ever to see again.
'And now, young man, I will, in the first place, say something about the manner in which I quitted you. It must have seemed somewhat singular to you that I went away without taking any leave, or giving you the slightest hint that I was going; but I did not do so without considerable reflection. I was afraid that I should not be able to support a leave-taking; and as you had said that you were determined to go wherever I did, I thought it best not to tell you at all; for I did not think it advisable that you should go with me, and I wished to have no dispute.
'In the second place, I wish to say something about an offer of wedlock which you made me; perhaps, young man, had you made it at the first period of our acquaintance, I should have accepted it, but you d
id not, and kept putting off and putting off, and behaving in a very strange manner, till I could stand your conduct no longer, but determined upon leaving you and Old England, which last step I had been long thinking about; so when you made your offer at last everything was arranged--my cart and donkey engaged to be sold--and the greater part of my things disposed of. However, young man, when you did make it, I frankly tell you that I had half a mind to accept it; at last, however, after very much consideration, I thought it best to leave you for ever, because, for some time past, I had become almost convinced, that though with a wonderful deal of learning, and exceedingly shrewd in some things, you were--pray don't be offended--at the root mad! and though mad people, I have been told, sometimes make very good husbands, I was unwilling that your friends, if you had any, should say that Belle Berners, the workhouse girl, took advantage of your infirmity; for there is no concealing that I was born and bred up in a workhouse; notwithstanding that, my blood is better than your own, and as good as the best; you having yourself told me that my name is a noble name, and once, if I mistake not, that it was the same word as baron, which is the same thing as bear; and that to be called in old times a bear was considered as a great compliment--the bear being a mighty strong animal, on which account our forefathers called all their great fighting-men barons, which is the same as bears.
'However, setting matters of blood and family entirely aside, many thanks to you, young man, from poor Belle, for the honour you did her in making that same offer; for, after all, it is an honour to receive an honourable offer, which she could see clearly yours was, with no floriness nor chaff in it; but, on the contrary, entire sincerity. She assures you that she shall always bear it and yourself in mind, whether on land or water; and as a proof of the good-will she bears to you, she has sent you a lock of the hair which she wears on her head, which you were often looking at, and were pleased to call flax, which word she supposes you meant as a compliment, even as the old people meant to pass a compliment to their great folks, when they called them bears; though she cannot help thinking that they might have found an animal as strong as a bear, and somewhat less uncouth, to call their great folks after: even as she thinks yourself, amongst your great store of words, might have found something a little more genteel to call her hair after than flax, which, though strong and useful, is rather a coarse and common kind of article.
'And as another proof of the goodwill she bears to you, she sends you, along with the lock, a piece of advice, which is worth all the hair in the world, to say nothing of the flax.
'_Fear God_, and take your own part. {108} There's Bible in that, young man; see how Moses feared God, and how he took his own part against everybody who meddled with him. And see how David feared God, and took his own part against all the bloody enemies which surrounded him--so fear God, young man, and never give in! The world can bully, and is fond, provided it sees a man in a kind of difficulty, of getting about him, calling him coarse names, and even going so far as to hustle him; but the world, like all bullies, carries a white feather in its tail, and no sooner sees a man taking off his coat, and offering to fight his best, than it scatters here and there, and is always civil to him afterwards. So when folks are disposed to ill-treat you, young man, say, "Lord have mercy upon me!" and then tip them Long Melford, {109} to which, as the saying goes, there is nothing comparable for shortness all the world over; and these last words, young man, are the last you will ever have from her who is, nevertheless,
'Your affectionate female servant, 'ISOPEL BERNERS.'
After reading the letter I sat for some time motionless, holding it in myhand. The day-dream in which I had been a little time before indulging,of marrying Isopel Berners, of going with her to America, and having byher a large progeny, who were to assist me in felling trees, cultivatingthe soil, and who would take care of me when I was old, was nowthoroughly dispelled. Isopel had deserted me, and was gone to America byherself, where, perhaps, she would marry some other person, and wouldbear him a progeny, who would do for him what in my dream I had hoped myprogeny by her would do for me. Then the thought came into my head thatthough she was gone I might follow her to America, but then I thoughtthat if I did I might not find her; America was a very large place, and Idid not know the port to which she was bound; but I could follow her tothe port from which she had sailed, and there possibly discover the portto which she was bound; but then I did not even know the port from whichshe had set out, for Isopel had not dated her letter from any place.Suddenly it occurred to me that the post-mark on the letter would tell mefrom whence it came, so I forthwith looked at the back of the letter, andin the post-mark read the name of a well-known and not very distantsea-port. I then knew with tolerable certainty the port where she hadembarked, and I almost determined to follow her, but I almost instantlydetermined to do no such thing. Isopel Berners had abandoned me, and Iwould not follow her; 'perhaps,' whispered pride, 'if I overtook her, shewould only despise me for running after her;' and it also told me prettyroundly that, provided I ran after her, whether I overtook her or not, Ishould heartily despise myself. So I determined not to follow IsopelBerners; I took her lock of hair, and looked at it, then put it in herletter, which I folded up and carefully stowed away, resolved to keepboth for ever, but I determined not to follow her. Two or three times,however, during the day, I wavered in my determination, and was again andagain almost tempted to follow her, but every succeeding time thetemptation was fainter. In the evening I left the dingle, and sat downwith Mr. Petulengro and his family by the door of his tent; Mr.Petulengro soon began talking of the letter which I had received in themorning. 'Is it not from Miss Berners, brother?' said he. I told him itwas. 'Is she coming back, brother?' 'Never,' said I; 'she is gone toAmerica, and has deserted me.' 'I always knew that you two were neverdestined for each other,' said he. 'How did you know that?' I inquired.'The dook told me so, brother; you are born to be a great traveller.''Well,' said I, 'if I had gone with her to America, as I was thinking ofdoing, I should have been a great traveller.' 'You are to travel inanother direction, brother,' said he. 'I wish you would tell me allabout my future wanderings,' said I. 'I can't, brother,' said Mr.Petulengro, 'there's a power of clouds before my eye.' 'You are a poorseer, after all,' said I, and getting up, I retired to my dingle and mytent, where I betook myself to my bed, and there, knowing the worst, andbeing no longer agitated by apprehension, nor agonized by expectation, Iwas soon buried in a deep slumber, the first which I had fallen into forseveral nights.
The Romany Rye Page 21
