Part 88 (1/2)
George drew the curtains round the bed, and Waife caught him by the arm.
”You will not let out what you heard, I know; you understand how little I can now care for men's judgments; but how dreadful it would be to undo all I have done--I to be witness against my Lizzy's child! I--I! I trust you--dear, dear Mr. Morley; make Mr. Hartopp sensible that, if he would not drive me mad, not a syllable of what he heard must go forth--'twould be base in him.”
”Nay!” said Hartopp, whispering also through the darkness, ”don't fear me; I will hold my peace, though 'tis very hard not to tell Williams at least that you did not take me in. But you shall be obeyed.”
They drew away Merle, who was wondering what the whispered talk was about, catching a word or two here and there, and left the old man not quite to solitude,--Waife's hand, in quitting George's grasp, dropped on the dog's head.
Hartopp went back to his daughter's home in a state of great excitement, drinking more wine than usual at dinner, talking more magisterially than he had ever been known to talk, railing quite misanthropically against the world; observing, that Williams had become unsufferably overbearing, and should be pensioned off: in short, casting the whole family into the greatest perplexity to guess what had come to the mild man. Merle found himself a lodging, and cast a horary scheme as to what would happen to Waife and himself for the next three months, and found all the aspects so perversely contradictory, that he owned he was no wiser as to the future than he was before the scheme was cast. George Morley remained in the cottage, stealing up, from time to time, to Waife's room, but not fatiguing him with talk. Before midnight, the old man slept, but his slumber was much perturbed, as if by fearful dreams. However, he rose early, very weak, but free from fever, and in full possession of his reason. To George's delight, Waife's first words to him then were expressive of a wish to return to Sophy. ”He had dreamed,” he said, ”that he had heard her voice calling out to him to come to her help.” He would not revert to the scene with Jasper. George once ventured to touch on that reminiscence, but the old man's look became so imploring that he desisted. Nevertheless, it was evident to the Pastor, that Waife's desire to return was induced by his belief that he had become necessary to Sophy's protection. Jasper, whose remorse would probably be very short-lived, had clearly discovered Sophy's residence, and as clearly Waife, and Waife alone, still retained some hold over his rugged breast.
Perhaps, too, the old man had no longer the same dread of encountering Jasper; rather, perhaps, a faint hope that, in another meeting, he might more availingly soften his son's heart. He was not only willing, then--he was eager to depart, and either regained or a.s.sumed much of his old cheerfulness in settling with his hostess, and parting with Merle, on whom he forced his latest savings and the tasteful contents of his pannier. Then he took aside George, and whispered in his ear: ”A very honest, kind-hearted man, sir; can you deliver him from the Planets?--they bring him into sad trouble. Is there no opening for a cobbler at Humberston?”
George nodded, and went back to Merle, who was wiping his eyes with his coat-sleeve. ”My good friend,” said the scholar, ”do me two favours, besides the greater one you have already bestowed in conducting me back to a revered friend. First, let me buy of you the contents of that basket; I have children amongst whom I would divide them as heirlooms; next, as we were travelling hither, you told me that, in your younger days, ere you took to a craft which does not seem to have prospered, you were brought up to country pursuits, and knew all about cows and sheep, their care and their maladies. Well, I have a few acres of glebe-land on my own hands, not enough for a bailiff--too much for my gardener--and a pretty cottage, which once belonged to a schoolmaster, but we have built him a larger one; it is now vacant, and at your service. Come and take all trouble of land and stock off my hands; we shall not quarrel about the salary. But harkye, my friend--on one proviso--give up the Crystal, and leave the Stars to mind their own business.”
”Please your Reverence,” said Merle, who, at the earlier part of the address, had evinced the most grateful emotion, but who, at the proviso which closed it, jerked himself lip, dignified and displeased--”Please your Reverence, no! Kit Merle is not so unnatural as to swop away his Significator at Birth for a mess of porritch! There was that forrin chap, Gally-Leo--he stuck to the stars, or the sun, which is the same thing--and the stars stuck by him, and brought him honour and glory, though the Parsons war dead agin him. He had Malefics in his Ninth House, which belongs to Parsons.”
”Can't the matter be compromised, dear Mr. George?” said Waife, persuasively. ”Suppose Merle promises to keep his crystal and astrological schemes to himself, or at least only talk of them to you;--they can't hurt you, I should think, sir? And science is a sacred thing, Merle; and the Chaldees, who were the great star-gazers, never degraded themselves by showing off to the vulgar. Mr. George, who is a scholar, will convince you of that fact.”
”Content,” said George. ”So long as Mr. Merle will leave my children and servants, and the parish generally, in happy ignorance of the future, I give him the fullest leave to discuss his science with myself whenever we chat together on summer moons or in winter evenings; and perhaps I may--”
”Be converted?” said Waife, with a twinkling gleam of the playful Humour which had ever sported along his th.o.r.n.y way by the side of Sorrow.
”I did not mean that,” said the Parson, smiling; ”rather the contrary.
What say you, Merle? Is it not a bargain?”
”Sir--G.o.d bless you!” cried Merle, simply; ”I see you won't let me stand in my own light. And what Gentleman Waife says as to the vulgar, is uncommon true.”
This matter settled, and Merle's future secured in a way that his stars, or his version of their language, had not foretold to him, George and Waife walked on to the station, Merle following with the Parson's small carpet-bag, and Sir Isaac charged with Waife's bundle. They had not gone many yards before they met Hartopp, who was indeed on his way to Prospect Row. He was vexed at learning Waife was about to leave so abruptly; he had set his heart on coaxing him to return to Gatesboro'
with himself--astounding Williams and Mrs. H., and proclaiming to Market Place and High Street, that, in deeming Mr. Chapman a good and a great man disguised, he, Josiah Hartopp, had not been taken in. He consoled himself a little for Waife's refusal of this kind invitation and unexpected departure, by walking proudly beside him to the station, finding it thronged with pa.s.sengers--some of them great burgesses of Ouzelford--in whose presence he kept bowing his head to Waife with every word he uttered; and, calling the guard--who was no stranger to his own name and importance--he told him pompously to be particularly attentive to that elderly gentleman, and see that he and his companion had a carriage to themselves all the way, and that Sir Isaac had a particularly comfortable box. ”A very great man,” he said, with his finger to his lip, ”only he will not have it known--just at present.”
The guard stares, and promises all deference--opens the door of a central first-cla.s.s carriage--a.s.sures Waife that he and his friend shall not be disturbed by other pa.s.sengers. The train heaves into movement--Hartopp runs on by its side along the stand--his hat off-kissing his hand; then, as the convoy shoots under yon dark tunnel, and is lost to sight, he turns back, and seeing Merle, says to him, ”You know that gentleman--the old one?”
”Yes, a many year.”
”Ever heard anything against him?”
”Yes, once--at Gatesboro'.”
”At Gatesboro'!--ah! and you did not believe it?”
”Only jist for a moment, transiting.”
”I envy you,” said Hartopp; and he went off with a sigh.
CHAPTER VII.
JASPER LOSELY IN HIS ELEMENT. O YOUNG READER, WHOMSOEVER THOU ART, ON WHOM NATURE HAS BESTOWED HER MAGNIFICENT GIFT OF PHYSICAL POWER WITH THE JOYS IT COMMANDS, WITH THE DARING THAT SPRINGS FROM IT--ON CLOSING THIS CHAPTER, PAUSE A MOMENT, AND THINK ”WHAT WILT THOU DO WITH IT?” SHALL IT BE BRUTE-LIKE OR G.o.d-LIKE? WITH WHAT ADVANTAGE FOR LIFE--ITS DELIGHTS OR ITS PERILS-TOILS BORNE WITH EASE, AND GLORIES CHEAP-BOUGHT--DOST THOU START AT LIFE'S ONSET? GIVE THY SINEWS A MIND THAT CONCEIVES THE HEROIC, AND WHAT n.o.bLE THINGS THOU MAYST DO, BUT VALUE THY SINEWS FOR RUDE STRENGTH ALONE, AND THAT STRENGTH MAY BE TURNED TO THY SHAME AND THY TORTURE. THE WEALTH OF THY LIFE WILL BUT TEMPT TO ITS WASTE. ABUSE, AT FIRST FELT NOT, WILL POISON THE USES OF SENSE. WILD BULLS GORE AND TRAMPLE THEIR FOES. THOU HAST SOUL! WILT THOU TRAMPLE AND GORE IT?
Jasper Losely, on quitting his father, spent his last coins in payment for his horse's food, and in fiery drink for himself. In haste he mounted--in haste he spurred on to London; not even pence for the toll-bars. Where he found the gates open, he dashed through them headlong; where closed, as the night advanced, he forced his horse across the fields over hedge and ditch--more than once the animal falling with him--more than once thrown from the saddle; for, while a most daring, he was not a very practised rider; but it was not easy to break bones so strong, and though bruised and dizzy, he continued his fierce way. At morning his horse was thoroughly exhausted, and at the first village he reached after sunrise he left the poor beast at an inn, and succeeded in borrowing of the landlord L1 on the p.a.w.n of the horse thus left as hostage. Resolved to husband this sum, he performed the rest of his journey on foot. He reached London at night, and went straight to Cutts' lodgings. Cutts was, however, in the club-room of those dark a.s.sociates against whom Losely had been warned. Oblivious of his solemn promise to Arabella, Jasper startled the revellers as he stalked into the room, and towards the chair of honour at the far end of it, on which he had been accustomed to lord it over the fell groups he had treated out of Poole's purse. One of the biggest and most redoubted of the Black Family was now in that seat of dignity, and refusing surlily to yield it at Jasper's rude summons, was seized by the scruff of the neck, and literally hurled on the table in front, coming down with clatter and clash amongst mugs and gla.s.ses. Jasper seated himself coolly, while the hubbub began to swell--and roared for drink. An old man, who served as drawer to these cavaliers, went out to obey the order; and when he was gone, those near the door swung across it a heavy bar. Wrath against the domineering intruder was gathering, and waited but the moment to explode. Jasper, turning round his bloodshot eyes; saw Cutts within a few chairs of him, seeking to shrink out of sight.
”Cutts, come hither,” cried he, imperiously. Cutts did not stir.
”Throw me that cur this way--you, who sit next him.”