________________________________________________
_ I was greatly touched, and made Mr. Swain many awkward acknowledgments,
which he mercifully cut short. I asked him for a while to think over his
offer. This seemed to please rather than displease him. And my first
impulse on reaching the inn was to ask the captain's advice. I thought
better of it however, and at length resolved to thrash out the matter for
myself.
The next morning, as I sat reflecting, an overwhelming desire seized me
to go to Marlboro' Street. Hitherto I could not have borne the sight of
the old place. I gulped down my emotion as the gate creaked behind me,
and made my way slowly to the white seat under the big chestnut behind
the house, where my grandfather had been wont to sit reading his prints,
in the warm weather. The flowers and the hedges had grown to a certain
wildness; and the smell of the American roses carried me back-as odours
will-to long-forgotten and trivial scenes. Here I had been caned many a
day for Mr. Daaken's reports, and for earlier offences. And I recalled
my mother as she once ran out at the sound of my cries to beg me off. So
vivid was that picture that I could hear Mr. Carvel say: "He is yours,
madam, not mine. Take him!"
I started up. The house was still, the sun blistering the green paint of
the shutters. My eye was caught by those on the room that had been hers,
and which, by my grandfather's decree, had lain closed since she left it.
The image of it grew in my mind: the mahogany bed with its poppy
counterpane and creamy curtains, and the steps at the side by which she
was wont to enter it; and the 'prie-dieu', whence her soul had been
lifted up to God. And the dresser with her china and silver upon it,
covered by years of dust. For I had once stolen the key from Willis's
bunch, crept in, and crept out again, awed. That chamber would be
profaned, now, and those dear ornaments, which were mine, violated.
The imagination choked me.
I would have them. I must. Nothing easier than to pry open a door or
window in the north wing, by the ball-room. When I saw Grafton I would
tell him. Nay, I would write him that day. I was even casting about me
for an implement, when I heard a step on the gravel beside me.
I swung around, and came face to face with my uncle.
He must have perceived me. And after the first shock of my surprise had
passed, I remarked a bearing on him that I had not seen before. He was
master of the situation at last,--so it read. The realization gave him
an easier speech than ever.
"I thought I might find you here, Richard," he said, "since you were not
at the Coffee House."
He did not offer me his hand. I could only stare at him, for I had
expected anything but this.
"I came from Carvel Hall to get you," he proceeded smoothly enough.
"I heard but yesterday of your return, and some of your miraculous
adventures. Your recklessness has caused us many a trying day, Richard,
and I believe killed your grandfather. You have paid dearly, and have
made us pay dearly, for your mad frolic of fighting cut-throats on the
highroad."
The wonder was that I did not kill him on the spot. I cannot think what
possessed the man,--he must have known me better.
"My recklessness!" I shouted, fairly hoarse with anger. I paid no heed
to Mr. Swain's warning. "You d--d scoundrel!" I cried, "it was you
killed him, and you know it. When you had put me out of the way and he
was in your power, you tortured him to death. You forced him to die
alone with your sneering face, while your shrew of a wife counted cards
downstairs. Grafton Carvel, God knows you better than I, who know you
two well. And He will punish you as sure as the crack of doom."
He heard me through, giving back as I came forward, his face blanching
only a little, and wearing all the time that yellow smile which so fitted
it.
"You have finished?" says he.
"Ay, I have finished. And now you may order me from this ground you have
robbed me of. But there are some things in that house you shall not
steal, for they are mine despite you."
"Name them, Richard," he said, very sorrowful.
"The articles in my mother's room, which were hers."
"You shall have them this day," he answered.
It was his way never to lose his temper, tho' he were called by the
vilest name in the language. He must always assume this pious grief
which made me long to throttle him. He had the best of me, even now,
as he took the great key from his pocket.
"Will you look at them before you go?" he asked.
At first I was for refusing. Then I nodded. He led the way silently
around by the front; and after he had turned the lock he stepped aside
with a bow to let me pass in ahead of him. Once more I was in the
familiar hall with the stairs dividing at the back. It was cool after
the heat, and musty, and a touch of death hung in the prisoned air. We
paused for a moment on the landing, beside the high, triple-arched window
which the branches tapped on windy winter days, while Grafton took down
the bunch of keys from beside the clock. I thought of my dear
grandfather winding it every Sunday, and his ruddy face and large figure
as he stood glancing sidewise down at me. Then the sound of Grafton's
feet upon the bare steps recalled the present.
We passed Mr. Carvel's room and went down the little corridor over the
ball-room, until we came to the full-storied wing. My uncle flung open
the window and shutters opposite and gave me the key. A delicacy not
foreign to him held him where he was. Time had sealed the door, and when
at last it gave before my strength, a shower of dust quivered in the ray
of sunlight from the window. I entered reverently. I took only the
silverbound prayer-book, cast a lingering look at the old familiar
objects dimly defined, and came out and locked the door again. I said
very quietly that I would send for the things that afternoon, for my
anger was hushed by what I had seen.
We halted together on the uncovered porch in front of the house, that had
a seat set on each side of it. Marlboro' Street was still, the wide
trees which flanked it spreading their shade over walk and roadway. Not
a soul was abroad in the midday heat, and the windows of the long house
opposite were sightless.
"Richard," said my uncle, staring ahead of him, "I came to offer you a
home, and you insult me brutally, as you have done unreproved all your
life. And yet no one shall say of me that I shirk my duty. But first
I must ask you if there is aught else you desire of me."
"The black boy, Hugo, is mine," I said. I had no great love for Hugo,
save for association's sake, and I had one too many servants as it was;
but to rescue one slave from Grafton's clutches was charity.
"You shall have him," he replied, "and your chaise, and your wardrobe,
and your horses, and whatever else I have that belongs to you. As I was
saying, I will not shirk my duty. The memory of my dear father, and of
what he would have wished, will not permit me to let you go a-begging.
You shall be provided for out of the estate, despite what you have said
and done."
This was surely the quintessence of a rogue's imagination. Instinctively
I shrank from him. With a show of piety that 'turned me sick he
continued:
"Let God witness that I carry out my father's will!"
"Stop there, Grafton Carvel!" I cried; "you shall not take His name in
vain. Under this guise of holiness you and your accomplice have done the
devil's own work, and the devil will reward you."
This reference to Mr. Allen, I believe, frightened him. For a second
only did he show it.
"My--my accomplice, sir!" he stammered. And then righting himself:
"You will have to explain this, by Heaven."
"In ample time your plot shall be laid bare, and you and his Reverence
shall hang, or lie in chains."
"You threaten, Mr. Carvel?" he shouted, nearly stepping off the porch in
his excitement.
"Nay, I predict," I replied calmly. And I went down the steps and out of
the gate, he looking after me. Before I had turned the corner of
Freshwater Lane, he was in the seat, and fanning himself with his hat.
I went straight to Mr. Swain's chambers in the Circle, where I found the
good barrister and Captain Daniel in their shirt-sleeves, seated between
the windows in the back room. Mr. Swain was grave enough when he heard
of my talk with Grafton, but the captain swore I was my father's son (for
the fiftieth time since I had come back), and that a man could no more
help flying at Grafton's face than Knipe could resist his legs; or
Cynthia his back, if he went into her stall. I had scarce finished my
recital, when Mr. Renwick, the barrister's clerk, announced Mr. Tucker,
which caused Mr. Swain to let out a whistle of surprise.
"So the wind blows from that quarter, Daniel," said he. "I thought so."
Mr. Tucker proved to be the pettifogger into whose hands Grafton had put
his affairs, taking them from Mr. Dulany at Mr. Carvel's death. The man
was all in a sweat, and had hardly got in the door before he began to
talk. He had no less astonishing a proposition to make than this, which
he enunciated with much mouthing of the honour and sense of duty of Mr.
Grafton Carvel. His client offered to Mr. Richard Carvel the estate
lying in Kent County, embracing thirty-three hundred acres more or less
of arable land and woodland, with a fine new house, together with the
indented servants and negroes and other chattels thereon. Mr. Richard
Carvel would observe that in making this generous offer for the welfare
of his nephew, Mr. Tucker's client was far beyond the letter of his
obligations; wherefore Mr. Grafton Carvel made it contingent upon the
acceptance of the estate that his nephew should sign a paper renouncing
forever any claims upon the properties of the late Mr. Lionel Carvel.
This condition was so deftly rolled up in law-Latin that I did not
understand a word of it until Mr. Swain stated it very briefly in
English. His quiet laugh prodigiously disconcerted the pettifogger,
who had before been sufficiently ill at ease in the presence of the
great lawyer. Mr. Tucker blew his nose loudly to hide his confusion.
"And what say you, Richard?" said Mr. Swain, without a shade of accent in
his voice.
I bowed my head. I knew that the honest barrister had read my heart
when he spoke of noblesse oblige. That senseless pride of cast, so deep-
rooted in those born in our province, had made itself felt. To be a
factor (so I thought, for I was young) was to renounce my birth. Until
that moment of travail the doctrine of equality had seemed very pretty
to me. Your fine gentleman may talk as nobly as he pleases over his
Madeira, and yet would patronize Monsieur Rousseau if he met him; and he
takes never a thought of those who knuckle to him every day, and clean
his boots and collect his rents. But when he is tried in the fire, and
told suddenly to collect some one else's rents and curse another's
negroes, he is fainthearted for the experiment. So it was with me when
I had to meet the issue. I might take Grafton's offer, and the chance
to marry Dorothy was come again. For by industry the owner of the Kent
lands would become rich.
The room was hot, and still save for the buzzing of the flies. When I
looked up I discovered the eyes of all three upon me.
"You may tell your client, Mr. Tucker, that I refuse his offer," I said.
He got to his feet, and with the customary declaration of humble
servitude bowed himself out.
The door was scarce closed on him when the captain had me by the hands.
"What said I, Henry?" he cried. "Did I not know the lad?"
Mr. Swain did not stir from his seat. He was still gazing at me with a
curious expression. And then I saw the world in truer colour. This good
Samaritan was not only taking me into his home, but would fight for my
rights with the strong brain that had lifted him out of poverty and
obscurity. I stood, humbled before him.
"I would accept your kindness, Mr. Swain," I said, vainly trying to
steady my voice, "but I have the faithful fellow, Banks, who followed me
here from England, dependant on me, and Hugo, whom I rescued from my
uncle. I will make over the black to you and you will have him."
He rose, brushed his eyes with his shirt, and took me by the arm.
"You and the captain dine with me to-day," says he. "And as for Banks, I
think that can be arranged. Now I have an estate, I shall need a trained
butler, egad. I have some affairs to keep me in town to-day, Richard.
But we'll be off for Cordon's Pride in the morning, and I know of one
little girl will be glad to see us."
We dined out under the apple tree in Gloucester Street. And the captain
argued, in his hopeful way, that Tucker's visit betrayed a weak point in
Grafton's position. But the barrister shook his head and said that
Grafton was too shrewd a rogue to tender me an estate if he feared me.
It was Mr. Swain's opinion that the motive of my uncle was to put himself
in a good light; and perhaps, he added, there was a little revenge mixed
therein, as the Kent estate was the one Mr. Carvel had given him when he
cast him off.
A southerly wind was sending great rolls of fog before it as Mr. Swain
and I, with Banks, crossed over to Kent Island on the ferry the next
morning. We traversed the island, and were landed by the other ferry on
the soil of my native county, Queen Anne's. In due time we cantered past
Master Dingley's tavern, the sight of which gave me a sharp pang, for it
is there that the by-road turns over the bridge to Carvel Hall and Wilmot
House; and force of habit drew my reins to the right across the horse's
neck, so that I swerved into it. The barrister had no word of comment
when I overtook him again.
'Twas about two o'clock when we came to the gate Mr. Swain had erected at
the entrance to his place; the land was a little rolling, and partly
wooded, like that on the Wye. But the fields were prodigiously unkempt.
He drew up, and glanced at me.
"You will see there is much to be done with such fallows as these,"
said he. "The lessees from his Lordship were sportsmen rather than
husbandmen, and had an antipathy to a constable or a sheriff like a
rat to a boar cat. That is the curse of some of your Eastern Shore
gentlemen, especially in Dorchester," he added; "they get to be
fishmongers."
Presently we came in sight of the house, long and low, like the one in
Gloucester Street, with a new and unpainted wing just completed. That
day the mist softened its outline and blurred the trees which clustered
about it. Even as we swung into the circle of the drive a rounded and
youthful figure appeared in the doorway, gave a little cry, and stood
immovable. It was Patty, in a striped dimity gown with the sleeves
rolled up, and her face fairly shone with joy as I leaped from my horse
and took her hands.
"So you like my surprise, girl?" said her father, as he kissed her
blushing face.
For answer she tore herself away, and ran through the hall to the broad
porch in front.
"Our barrister is come, mother," we heard her exclaiming, "and whom do
you think he has brought?"
"Is it Richard?" asked the gentler voice, more hastily than usual.
I stepped out on the porch, where the invalid sat in her armchair. She
was smiling with joy, too, and she held out her wasted hands and drew me
toward her, kissing me on both cheeks.
"I thank God for His goodness," said she.
"And the boy has come to stay, mother," said her husband, as he stooped
over her.
"To stay!" cries Patty.
"Gordon's Pride is henceforth his home," replied the barrister. "And now
I can return in peace to my musty law, and know that my plantation will
be well looked after."
Patty gasped.
"Oh, I am so glad!" said she, "I could almost rejoice that his uncle
cheated him out of his property. He is to be factor of Gordon's Pride?"
"He is to be master of Gordon's Pride, my dear," says her father, smiling
and tilting her chin; "we shall have no such persons as factors here."
At that the tears forced themselves into my own eyes. I turned away, and
then I perceived for the first time the tall form of my old friend, Percy
Singleton.
"May I, too, bid you welcome, Richard," said he, in his manly way; "and
rejoice that I have got such a neighbour?"
"Thank you, Percy," I answered. I was not in a state to say much more.
"And now," exclaims Patty, "what a dinner we shall have in the prodigal's
honour! I shall make you all some of the Naples biscuit Mrs. Brice told
me of."
She flew into the house, and presently we heard her clear voice singing
in the kitchen. _
Read next: VOLUME 7: CHAPTER XLVI. Gordon's Pride
Read previous: VOLUME 7: CHAPTER XLIV. Noblesse Oblige
Table of content of Richard Carvel
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book
