CHAPTER II.
At my earnest entreaty, the idea of assembling the tenants especiallywas allowed to drop, and I was to be inducted at the Midsummer dinner,which was very near at hand. A deed had been prepared by the Londonsolicitors, reciting the facts and assuring all the estate to me, as myfather's proper heiress. My Uncle also desired to settle upon me allthe personal property, except a sum of 10,000*l.*, which he wouldreserve for his children, to enable them, if ever they should be found,to establish their claims in Corsica: then if the son obtained hisrights, his sister was to have the money with all expenditure made goodby him. But I would not hear of it. It would have made me a rogue. Byhis skill and economy, my Uncle, during the nine years of hismanagement, had saved more than 50,000*l.* from the proceeds of theestate. But he had added at least an equal amount to the value of theland, by carrying out most judiciously the improvements begun by myfather; and the whole was now considered the best-managed estate inGloucestershire.
Therefore, when he abandoned his legal right, in the most honourablemanner, it would have been horribly shabby and unlike a Vaughan, to holdhim accountable for the back rents. I begged him to leave the whole ofit for the benefit of his poor children, requesting only, andunnecessarily, that the hypocrite might not have sixpence. Anotherthing I entreated, that he would prolong his guardianship, andstewardship, if his health allowed it, until I should be of age, that isto say, for two years and a half. Seeing how earnestly I desired it, heundertook to do so, though he made the promise with a melancholy smile,adding that he hoped his children would be found ere then, if he was tosee them at all.
When the rent-dinner was over, and the glasses had been replaced, myUncle, who had not been there as usual, led me into the great old hall.Feeble as he was, he entered with a grace and courtesy not always to bediscovered in the mien of princes. The supper--as the farmers calledit--had not begun till six o'clock; and now the evening sunshine glancedthrough the western window, and between the bunches of stoning grapesinto the narrow doorway, stealing in from the Vinery with sandals ofleafy pattern. The hall was decked with roses, no other flower butroses; yet who could want any other, when every known rose was there?Even the bright yellow blossoms of the Corsican rock-rose, a plant sosensitive that to steal one flower is to kill all the rest. From timeout of mind, some feudal custom of tenure by the rose had been handeddown in our family.
All the guests rose as we passed, which made me rather nervous, albeit Iknew every one of them from my childhood up. Then my Uncle, leaning onme, spoke a few words from the step, plain and simple words withoutflourish or pretence. What he said was known long since, and had beenthoroughly discussed in every house of the village. He finished bysetting me in the black oak chair of state--which he had never used--andpresenting me with a rose; then he turned round and proposed my health.When I took the rose, an exquisite crested moss, kissed it and placed itin my bosom, according to the usage, such a shout arose, such an Englishhurrah, that it must have echoed to the other bank of the distantSevern. At first I was quite frightened, then I burst into tears as Ithought of him whose chair I sat in, whose memory still was echoing inthat mighty shout. It was not only love of right, or sympathy with ahelpless girl, that moved those honest bosoms, but the remembrance ofhim who had been so pleasant to them, humble, kind and just, in oneword, a gentleman.
But as they came up, one by one, and begged to take my hand, and wishedme joy and long life with all their hearts, I found that I was right inone thing; I knew them better than my Uncle did. Instead of being rudeor cold to him, as he expected, they almost overwhelmed him with praiseand admiration. But all this I must not dwell on, for my story hurrieshence, and its path is not through roses.
Annie Franks, who still was with us, and did not mean to go until shehad finished all the Froissart novels, and such a dear good girl shewas, that we hoped they would last for ever, Annie Franks brought menext day two letters of aspect strange to "good society." One I knew ata glance to be from Tossil's Barton, though the flourishes were amazing,and the lead-pencil lines rubbed out. The other, a work of far lessambition and industry, was an utter stranger; so of course I took itfirst. Nevertheless, I will treat of it last, because it opens thestormy era.
Dear Sally's gossip is not to be served up whole. Even if it wereinteresting to others as to me, my space permits no dalliance withfarm-yards, no idyls of Timothy Badcock, nay, nor even the stern iambicsof Ebenezer Dawe. Only to be just and clear, I may not slur it all.The direction was remarkable. The farmer was always afraid of not beingduly explicit, for he believed that letters were delivered throughoutEngland as in the parish of Trentisoe; where all, except those for theparson and Tossil's Barton farm, were set upside down in the window atPewter Will's, the most public-house in the place. The idea wasingenious, and, I believe, original--having been suggested by theQueen's boy, whose head Mrs. Huxtable punched. It was that no one couldread the name upside down, except the owner of the name and therefore ofthe letter. Sound or not, I cannot say, having had no experience; butthere was this to be said for it, that no one would try the puzzle whodid not expect a letter, unless indeed he were of precocious genius, andfrom that Trentisoe was quite safe.
Upon the present "papper-scrawl," after a long description of me,patronymical, local, and personal, the following injunctions and menaceswere added, "Not be stuck tops I turve I on no account in no publichouse. She be in her own house now again, thank God and dang them asturned her out I say, so mind you carr it there. A deal of money therebe in it, and no fear of Joe because he knows it, and there lives a manin Gloucestershire knows me well by the name of Thomas Henwood. Bestlook sharp I say. I be up to every one of you. John Huxtable his name,no mark this time. God save the queen."
So the farmer had actually learned to write, although as yet to astrictly limited extent. Of course he had not written any of the aboveexcept his name; but that was his, and did him credit, though it nearlydescribed a circle.
After the warmest congratulations and returning the five-pound note,which I had sent for interest, with an indignant inquiry from fatherwhether I took him for a Jew, and after several anecdotes and somehistories of butter sold at Ilfracombe market, Sally proceeded thus:
"Now what do you think, Miss Clara dear? No you never would guess aslong as you live--father are going to London town, and me, and Jack, andBeany Dawe. None of us have slept two grunts of a pig, ever since itwere made up, only father, and he always sleep without turning. Nowmind if I tell you all about it, you must not tell again, Miss Clara,because there is ever so much money upon it, and we do hear they haveput it on some London paper and no business of theirs. Two greatgentlefolks, the greatest of any about these parts, have been and madeup a bet for my father to wrestle along with a great big chap as theycalls the North Country champion. Seems as some great Northern lord wasboasting in London one dinner-time, Speaker's dinner they called itbecause there were a deaf and dumb dinner next day, this here great lordwas telling up as how Sam Richardson were the strongest man in theworld. So our Sir Arthur spake up for Devonshire, and laid him aquart-pot full of sovereigns as he would find a better man in the Westcountry. And so I don't know the rights of it, nor father nor mothereither, but it was made up atwixt them that Farmer Huxtable, that's myfather, Miss, should try this great North country chap at the time ofthe great Xabition--you never showed me the way to spell it, Miss, so Igo by the light of nature, as you used to say, Miss--and should takebest of three falls for 200*l.* a side. That will be 400*l.* for us,when father gets it, and all his expenses paid, and they say the otherfolk won't allow no kicking, so he must be a soft-shelled chap; butfather feel no call to hurt him, if so be he can help it. Mother don'twant father to go, but he say he be bound for the honour of oldDevonshire, or maybe they will take a man not good enough to make astandard.
And please, Miss, when we brings home the money, I be to go to MissBowden's, in Boutport Street, and our Jack to be put to a day
-school notmore than six miles away, and then I hope he know himself, and lookhigher than that minx of a Tabby Badcock. What do you think, MissClara, you would never believe it I know, but only a week ago lastTuesday I come sudden round the corner, and catched her a kissing of ourJack in the shed there by the shoot. And after all you taught her,Miss! Jack he ran away, as red as mangawazzle, but that brazen slut,there she stand with her legs out, as innocent as a picture. Never aword I said, but with no more to do I put her head in the calves'stommick as we makes the cheese with, in a bucket handy. It would havedone you good to see her Miss, she did cry so hard, and she smell of itfor a week, and it cure our Jack, up to Sunday anyhow. Mother come outat the noise, but her see that she deserve it, and the runnet was noaccount, except for the pigs, because it were gone by. I hope she knowher manners now and her spear in life with her sheep's eyes, and notcome trying to catch any of my family.
Well, Miss Clara please, father want mother to go; but no, say she,"with all they"--she ought to have said "them" Miss, now hadn't sheought?--"with all they young pigs, and the brown cow expecting everyday, and Suke no head at all, and all the chillers and littleClara"--she call her "Clara" now, Miss,--"why farmer what be thinkingof?" Then father rub the nose of him, you know the way he do it, Miss,and he say, "I must have some one. London be such a wicked place."Mother look up very sharp at that, and say quite peart, "take yourdaughter, farmer Huxtable, if you wants to be kept respectable." So Ibe to go Miss; and go I wouldn't without Jack and leave him along ofthat sly cat Tabby, and her got sweet again now; besides I want him tochoose a knife I promised him, same as he saw to Coom one time, if hewouldn't let Tabby kiss him with seven blades and a corkscrew, and I'llgive eighteen pence for it, that I will. And Beany Dawe must go to showus the way about, and see as they doesn't cheat us, because his fatherwas once to London town, and told him a power about it.
If you please, Miss Clara, father be put in training as they call it inthese parts, all the same as a horse. He run up and down Breakneck hill,with the best bed on his back, nine times every day, and he don't drinkno cider, no nor beer, nor gin and water, and mother hardly know him, hebe come so clear in the skin; but he say his hand shake still from thetime I taught him to write, and please, Miss, what do you think of theway he is going to sign this? I can't get him to put his thumb right,no nor his middle finger, and he stick his elbow out every bit as bad asTabby, and he say he like the pot-hooks over the fire best, but for allthat I believe I shall make a scholard of him, particular when he giveup wrestling, which he have sworn to do if he throw this Cumberlandchap, and stick to his Bible and Prayer-book.
Please, Miss, not to be offended, but excuse us asking if you like tosee the great wrestling. Father say no, it would not be fitty, and thatbe the worst of being a gentlefolk; but mother say what harm, and she besure the farmer do it twice as well with you there, and you shall havethe best seat in the place next to the two judges, and such a prettyhandkerchief they sent down all spotted the same as a Guernsey cow, howthe people in church did stare at me, and you shall have two of thebest, Miss, but I am afraid it be making too bold; but you never see anywrestling, Miss, and I am sure you would enjoy it so. It take place inthe copandhagen fields, next Saturday week. Do come, Miss Clara dear,it will do you so much good, and you see father, and me, and Jack, andBeany Dawe."
I need recount no more of poor Sally's soft persuasions. The otherletter was of a different vein:--
"HONOURED Miss,--Balak and me after a deal of trouble and labouringnight and day and throwing up our vacation has at last succeeded infinding you knows who. Personal interview will oblige, earliestinconvenience. No more at present not being safe on paper, from yourmost obedient servants and suitors
BALAAM AND BALAK--you knows who.--
Poscrip.--Balak says a sharp young lady quite sure to know what isright, but for fear of accidents please a little of the ready willoblige, large families both of us has and it do take a deal of beer morethan our proper vacation no one would guess unless they was to try andbad beer too a deal of it. For self and partner.--BALAAM."
Clara Vaughan, Volume 3 (of 3) Page 11
