CHAPTER XVIII.
RUBY RUGGLES HEARS A LOVE TALE.
Miss Ruby Ruggles, the granddaughter of old Daniel Ruggles, ofSheep's Acre, in the parish of Sheepstone, close to Bungay, receivedthe following letter from the hands of the rural post letter-carrieron that Sunday morning;--"A friend will be somewhere near SheepstoneBirches between four and five o'clock on Sunday afternoon." There wasnot another word in the letter, but Miss Ruby Ruggles knew well fromwhom it came.
Daniel Ruggles was a farmer, who had the reputation of considerablewealth, but who was not very well looked on in the neighbourhood asbeing somewhat of a curmudgeon and a miser. His wife was dead;--hehad quarrelled with his only son, whose wife was also dead, andhad banished him from his home;--his daughters were married andaway; and the only member of his family who lived with him was hisgranddaughter Ruby. And this granddaughter was a great trouble to theold man. She was twenty-three years old, and had been engaged to aprosperous young man at Bungay in the meal and pollard line, to whomold Ruggles had promised to give L500 on their marriage. But Ruby hadtaken it into her foolish young head that she did not like meal andpollard, and now she had received the above very dangerous letter.Though the writer had not dared to sign his name she knew well thatit came from Sir Felix Carbury,--the most beautiful gentleman she hadever set her eyes upon. Poor Ruby Ruggles! Living down at Sheep'sAcre, on the Waveney, she had heard both too much and too littleof the great world beyond her ken. There were, she thought, manyglorious things to be seen which she would never see were she inthese her early years to become the wife of John Crumb, the dealerin meal and pollard at Bungay. Therefore she was full of a wildjoy, half joy half fear, when she got her letter; and, therefore,punctually at four o'clock on that Sunday she was ensconced amongthe Sheepstone Birches, so that she might see without much danger ofbeing seen. Poor Ruby Ruggles, who was left to be so much mistressof herself at the time of her life in which she most required thekindness of a controlling hand!
Mr. Ruggles held his land, or the greater part of it, on what iscalled a bishop's lease, Sheep's Acre Farm being a part of theproperty which did belong to the bishopric of Elmham, and which wasstill set apart for its sustentation;--but he also held a smallextent of outlying meadow which belonged to the Carbury estate, sothat he was one of the tenants of Roger Carbury. Those SheepstoneBirches, at which Felix made his appointment, belonged to Roger. On aformer occasion, when the feeling between the two cousins was kinderthan that which now existed, Felix had ridden over with the landlordto call on the old man, and had then first seen Ruby;--and had heardfrom Roger something of Ruby's history up to that date. It had thenbeen just made known that she was to marry John Crumb. Since thattime not a word had been spoken between the men respecting the girl.Mr. Carbury had heard, with sorrow, that the marriage was eitherpostponed or abandoned,--but his growing dislike to the baronet hadmade it very improbable that there should be any conversation betweenthem on the subject. Sir Felix, however, had probably heard more ofRuby Ruggles than her grandfather's landlord.
There is, perhaps, no condition of mind more difficult for theordinarily well-instructed inhabitant of a city to realise than thatof such a girl as Ruby Ruggles. The rural day labourer and his wifelive on a level surface which is comparatively open to the eye. Theiraspirations, whether for good or evil,--whether for food and drink tobe honestly earned for themselves and children, or for drink first,to be come by either honestly or dishonestly,--are, if looked at atall, fairly visible. And with the men of the Ruggles class one cangenerally find out what they would be at, and in what directiontheir minds are at work. But the Ruggles woman,--especially theRuggles young woman,--is better educated, has higher aspirations anda brighter imagination, and is infinitely more cunning than the man.If she be good-looking and relieved from the pressure of want, herthoughts soar into a world which is as unknown to her as heaven isto us, and in regard to which her longings are apt to be infinitelystronger than are ours for heaven. Her education has been much betterthan that of the man. She can read, whereas he can only spell wordsfrom a book. She can write a letter after her fashion, whereas he canbarely spell words out on a paper. Her tongue is more glib, and herintellect sharper. But her ignorance as to the reality of thingsis much more gross than his. By such contact as he has with men inmarkets, in the streets of the towns he frequents, and even in thefields, he learns something unconsciously of the relative conditionof his countrymen,--and, as to that which he does not learn, hisimagination is obtuse. But the woman builds castles in the air, andwonders, and longs. To the young farmer the squire's daughter is asuperior being very much out of his way. To the farmer's daughter theyoung squire is an Apollo, whom to look at is a pleasure,--by whom tobe looked at is a delight. The danger for the most part is soon over.The girl marries after her kind, and then husband and children putthe matter at rest for ever.
A mind more absolutely uninstructed than that of Ruby Ruggles as tothe world beyond Suffolk and Norfolk it would be impossible to find.But her thoughts were as wide as they were vague, and as active asthey were erroneous. Why should she with all her prettiness, and allher cleverness,--with all her fortune to boot,--marry that dustiestof all men, John Crumb, before she had seen something of the beautiesof the things of which she had read in the books which came in herway? John Crumb was not bad-looking. He was a sturdy, honest fellow,too,--slow of speech but sure of his points when he had got themwithin his grip,--fond of his beer but not often drunk, and the verysoul of industry at his work. But though she had known him all herlife she had never known him otherwise than dusty. The meal had sogotten within his hair, and skin, and raiment, that it never cameout altogether even on Sundays. His normal complexion was a healthypallor, through which indeed some records of hidden ruddiness wouldmake themselves visible, but which was so judiciously assimilated tohis hat and coat and waistcoat, that he was more like a stout ghostthan a healthy young man. Nevertheless it was said of him that hecould thrash any man in Bungay, and carry two hundred weight of flourupon his back. And Ruby also knew this of him,--that he worshippedthe very ground on which she trod.
But, alas, she thought there might be something better than suchworship; and, therefore, when Felix Carbury came in her way, with hisbeautiful oval face, and his rich brown colour, and his bright hairand lovely moustache, she was lost in a feeling which she mistook forlove; and when he sneaked over to her a second and a third time, shethought more of his listless praise than ever she had thought of JohnCrumb's honest promises. But, though she was an utter fool, she wasnot a fool without a principle. She was miserably ignorant; but shedid understand that there was a degradation which it behoved her toavoid. She thought, as the moths seem to think, that she might flyinto the flame and not burn her wings. After her fashion she waspretty, with long glossy ringlets, which those about the farm onweek days would see confined in curl-papers, and large round darkeyes, and a clear dark complexion, in which the blood showed itselfplainly beneath the soft brown skin. She was strong, and healthy, andtall,--and had a will of her own which gave infinite trouble to oldDaniel Ruggles, her grandfather.
Felix Carbury took himself two miles out of his way in order that hemight return by Sheepstone Birches, which was a little copse distantnot above half a mile from Sheep's Acre farmhouse. A narrow angleof the little wood came up to the road, by which there was a gateleading into a grass meadow, which Sir Felix had remembered whenhe made his appointment. The road was no more than a country lane,unfrequented at all times, and almost sure to be deserted on Sundays.He approached the gate in a walk, and then stood awhile looking intothe wood. He had not stood long before he saw the girl's bonnetbeneath a tree standing just outside the wood, in the meadow, buton the bank of the ditch. Thinking for a moment what he would doabout his horse, he rode him into the field, and then, dismounting,fastened him to a rail which ran down the side of the copse. Then hesauntered on till he stood looking down upon Ruby Ruggles as she satbeneath the tree. "I like your impudence," she said, "in callingyourself a frie
nd."
"Ain't I a friend, Ruby?"
"A pretty sort of friend, you! When you was going away, you was to beback at Carbury in a fortnight; and that is,--oh, ever so long agonow."
"But I wrote to you, Ruby."
"What's letters? And the postman to know all as in 'em for anythinganybody knows, and grandfather to be almost sure to see 'em. I don'tcall letters no good at all, and I beg you won't write 'em any more."
"Did he see them?"
"No thanks to you if he didn't. I don't know why you are come here,Sir Felix,--nor yet I don't know why I should come and meet you. It'sall just folly like."
"Because I love you;--that's why I come; eh, Ruby? And you have comebecause you love me; eh, Ruby? Is not that about it?" Then he threwhimself on the ground beside her, and got his arm round her waist.
It would boot little to tell here all that they said to each other.The happiness of Ruby Ruggles for that half hour was no doubtcomplete. She had her London lover beside her; and though in everyword he spoke there was a tone of contempt, still he talked of love,and made her promises, and told her that she was pretty. He probablydid not enjoy it much; he cared very little about her, and carriedon the liaison simply because it was the proper sort of thing for ayoung man to do. He had begun to think that the odour of patchouliwas unpleasant, and that the flies were troublesome, and the groundhard, before the half hour was over. She felt that she could becontent to sit there for ever and to listen to him. This was arealisation of those delights of life of which she had read in thethrice-thumbed old novels which she had gotten from the littlecirculating library at Bungay.
But what was to come next? She had not dared to ask him to marryher,--had not dared to say those very words; and he had not dared toask her to be his mistress. There was an animal courage about her,and an amount of strength also, and a fire in her eye, of which hehad learned to be aware. Before the half hour was over I think thathe wished himself away;--but when he did go, he made a promise tosee her again on the Tuesday morning. Her grandfather would be atHarlestone market, and she would meet him at about noon at the bottomof the kitchen garden belonging to the farm. As he made the promisehe resolved that he would not keep it. He would write to her again,and bid her come to him in London, and would send her money for thejourney.
"I suppose I am to be his wedded wife," said Ruby to herself, as shecrept away down from the road, away also from her own home;--so thaton her return her presence should not be associated with that of theyoung man, should any one chance to see the young man on the road."I'll never be nothing unless I'm that," she said to herself. Thenshe allowed her mind to lose itself in expatiating on the differencebetween John Crumb and Sir Felix Carbury.
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