Part 27 (1/2)
Frank Darling lifted his hat in reply to the other's more graceful salutation, and then shook hands with him heartily. ”I ought to have known who you are,” he said; ”for I have heard of you often at Springhaven. But you have not been there since I came down, and we thought that you had left the neighbourhood. Our little village is like the ear of the tyrant, except that it carries more false than true sound. I hope you are come to remain among us, and I hope that we shall see you at my father's house. Years ago I have heard that there used to be no especial good-will between your family and mine--petty disputes about boundaries, no doubt. How narrow and ridiculous such things are!
We live in a better age than that, at any rate, although we are small enough still in many ways.”
”You are not; and you will enlarge many others,” Carne answered, as if the matter were beyond debate. ”As for boundaries now, I have none, because the estates are gone, and I am all the richer. That is the surest way to liberate the mind.”
”Will you oblige me,” said Frank, to change the subject, for his mind did not seek to be liberated so, and yet wished its new admirer to remain in admiration, ”by looking along the sh.o.r.e towards Springhaven as far as you can see, and telling me whether any one is coming? My sisters were to follow me, if the weather kept fine, as soon as they had paid a little visit at the rectory. And my sight is not good for long distances.”
”I think I can see two ladies coming, or at any rate two figures moving, about a mile or more away, where the sands are s.h.i.+ning in a gleam of sunlight. Yes, they are ladies. I know by their walk. Good-bye. I have a way up the cliff from here. You must not be surprised if you do not see me again. I may have to be off for France. I have business there, of which I should like to talk to you. You are so far above mean prejudice.
If I go, I shall carry this precious volume with me. Farewell, my friend, if I may call you so.”
”Do wait a minute,” cried the much admiring Frank; ”or walk a few yards with me towards Springhaven. It would give me such pleasure to introduce you to my sisters. And I am sure they will be so glad to know you, when I tell them what I think. I very seldom get such a chance as this.”
”There is no resisting that!” replied the graceful Carne; ”I have not the honour of knowing a lady in England, except my aunt Mrs. Twemlow, and my cousin Eliza--both very good, but to the last degree insular.”
”It is very hard to help being that, when people have never been out of an island. But I fear that I am taking you out of your way.”
In a few minutes these two young men drew near to the two young women, whose manners were hard put to hide surprise. When their brother introduced Mr. Carne to them, Faith bowed rather stiffly, for she had formed without reason a dark and obstinate dislike to him. But the impetuous Dolly ran up and offered him both her hands, and said, ”Why, Mr. Carne saved both our lives only a few days ago.”
CHAPTER x.x.xVII
NEITHER AT HOME
Though Admiral Darling had not deigned to speak to his younger daughter about that vile anonymous charge, he was not always quite comfortable in his inner mind concerning it. More than once he thought of asking Faith's opinion, for he knew her good sense and discretion; but even this was repugnant to him, and might give her the idea that he cherished low suspicions. And then he was called from home again, being occupied among other things with a vain enquiry about the recent false alarm.
For Carne and Charron had managed too well, and judged too correctly the character of Vickers, to afford any chance of discovery. So that, when the Admiral came home again, his calm and--in its fair state--gentle nature was ruffled by the prosperity of the wicked.
”Oh, he is a fine judge of poetry, is he?” he said, more sarcastically than his wont; ”that means, I suppose, that he admires yours, Frank.
Remember what Nelson said about you. The longer I live, the more I find his views confirmed.”
”Papa, you are too bad! You are come home cross!” cried Dolly, who always took Frank's part now. ”What does my G.o.dfather know of poetry, indeed? If he ever had any ear for it, the guns would have ruined it long ago.”
”No mostacchio in my house!” said the master, without heeding her. ”I believe that is the correct way to p.r.o.nounce the filthy thing--a foreign abomination altogether. Who could keep his lips clean, with that dirt over them? A more tolerant man than myself never lived--a great deal too tolerant, as everybody knows. But I'll never tolerate a son of mine in disgusting French hairiness of that sort.”
”Papa, you are come home as cross as a bear!” cried Dolly, presuming on her favour. ”Lord Dashville was here the other day with a very nice one, and I hear that all Cavalry Officers mean to have one, when they can.
And Mr. Carne, Frank's friend, encourages it.”
”The less you have to say about that young man, the better. And the less he has to say to any child of mine, the better, both for him and her, I say. I know that the age is turned upside down. But I'll not have that sort of thing at my table.”
When a kind and indulgent father breaks forth thus, the result is consternation, followed by anxiety about his health. Faith glanced at Dolly, who was looking quite bewildered, and the two girls withdrew without a word. Johnny was already gone to visit Captain Stubbard, with whose eldest daughter Maggie and the cannons of the battery he was by this time desperately in love; and poor Frank was left to have it out with the angry father.
”I very seldom speak harshly, my boy,” said the Admiral, drawing near his son gradually, for his wrath (like good vegetables) was very short of staple; ”and when I do so you may feel quite certain that there is sound reason at the bottom of it”--here he looked as if his depth was unfathomable. ”It is not only that I am not myself, because of the many hours spent upon hard leather, and vile chalks of flint that go by me half asleep, when I ought to be snoring in the feathers; neither has it anything to do with my consuming the hide of some quadruped for dinner, instead of meat. And the bread is made of rye, if of any grain at all; I rather think of spent tan, kneaded up with tallow ends, such as I have seen cast by in bushels, when the times were good. And every loaf of that costs two s.h.i.+llings--one for me, and one for Government. They all seem to acknowledge that I can put up with that; and I make a strict point of mild language, which enables them to do it again with me.
And all up and down the roads, everybody likes me. But if I was shot to-morrow, would they care twopence?”
”I am sure they would, sir; and a good deal more than that,” answered Frank, who perceived that his father was out of his usual lines of thinking, perhaps because he had just had a good dinner--so ill do we digest our mercies. ”I am sure that there is n.o.body in Suss.e.x, Kent, or Hamps.h.i.+re who does not admire and respect and trust you.”
”I dare say, and rejoice to see me do the work they ought to do. They have long nights in bed, every one of them, and they get their meals when they want them. I am not at all astonished at what Nelson said. He is younger than I am by a good many years, but he seems to have picked up more than I have, in the way of common sentiments, and such like.
'You may do everybody's work, if you are fool enough,' he said to me the last time I saw him; 'and ease them of their souls as well, if you are rogue enough, as they do in the Popish countries. I am nearly sick of doing it,' he said, and he looked it. 'If you once begin with it, you must go on.' I find it more true every day of my life. Don't interrupt me; don't go on with comfortable stuff about doing good, and one's duty towards one's Country--though I fear that you think very little of that.
If I thought I had done good enough to make up for my back-aches, and three fine stumps lost through chewing patriotic sentiments, why, of course I should be thankful, and make the best of my reward. But charity begins at home, my boy, and one's s.h.i.+rt should be considered before one's cloak. A man's family is the nearest piece of his country, and the dearest one.”
”I am sure, sir, I hope,” replied Frank, who had never heard his father talk like this before, ”that nothing is going on amiss with us here.