Part 46 (2/2)

”So he is,” said the Major. ”But this is a new one. The good old Dean has resigned.”

”What is the new one's name?” said the Captain.

”I don't know,” said the Major. ”Desborough said it was a Doctor Maypole, and that he was very like one in appearance. But you can't trust Desborough, you know; he never remembers names. I hope he may be as good a man as his predecessor.”

”I hope he may be no worse,” said Captain Brentwood; ”but I hope, in addition, that he may be better able to travel, and look after his outlying clergy a little more.”

”It looks like it,” said the Major, ”to be down as far as this, before he has been three months installed.”

Mrs. Buckley went out to the kitchen to give orders; and after that, they sat for an hour or more over their wine, till at length, the Major said,--

”We must give him up in another hour.”

Then, as if they had heard him, the dogs began to bark. Rover, who had, against rules, sneaked into the house, and lain PERDU under the sofa, discovered his retreat by low growling, as though determined to do his duty, let the consequences be what they might. Every now and then, too, when his feelings overpowered him, he would discharge a 'Woof,' like a minute gun at sea.

”That must be him, father,” said Sam. ”You'll catch it, Mr. Rover!”

He ran out; a tall black figure was sitting on horseback before the door, and a pleasant cheery voice said, ”Pray, is this Major Buckley's?”

”Yes, sir,” said Sam; ”we have been expecting you.”

He called for the groom and held the stranger's horse while he dismounted. Then he a.s.sisted him to unstrap his valise, and carried it in after him.

The Major, Mrs. Buckley, and the Captain had risen, and were standing ready to greet the Church dignitary as he came in, in the most respectful manner. But when the Major had looked for a moment on the tall figure in black, which advanced towards the fire, instead of saying, ”Sir, I am, highly honoured by your visit,” or, ”Sir, I bid you most heartily welcome,” he dashed forward in the most undignified fas.h.i.+on, upsetting a chair, and seizing the reverend Dean by both hands, exclaimed, ”G.o.d bless my heart and soul! Frank Maberly!”

It was he: the mad curate, now grown into a colonial dean,--sobered, apparently, but unchanged in any material point: still elastic and upright, looking as if for twopence he would take off the black cutaway coat and the broad-brimmed hat, and row seven in the University eight, at a moment's notice. There seems something the matter with him though, as he holds the Major's two hands in his, and looks on his broad handsome face. Something like a shortness of breath prevented his speech, and, strange, the Major seems troubled with the same complaint; but Frank gets over it first, and says,--

”My dear old friend, I am so glad to see you!”

And Mrs. Buckley says, laying her hand upon his arm, ”It seems as if all things were arranged to make my husband and myself the happiest couple in the world. If we had been asked to-night, whom of all people in the world we should have been most glad to see as the new Dean, we should have answered at once, Frank Maberly; and here he is!”

”Then, you did not know whom to expect,” said Frank.

”Not we, indeed,” said the Major. ”Desborough said the new Dean was a Doctor Maypole; and I pictured to myself an old schoolmaster with a birch rod in his coat tail-pocket. And we have been in such a stew all the evening about giving the great man a proper reception. Ha! ha! ha!”

”And will you introduce me to this gentleman?” said the Dean, moving towards Sam, who stood behind his mother.

”This,” said the Major, with a radiant smile, ”is my son Samuel, whom, I believe, you have seen before.”

”So, the pretty boy that I knew at Drumston,” said the Dean, laying his hands on Sam's shoulders, ”has grown into this n.o.ble gentleman! It makes me feel old, but I am glad to feel old under such circ.u.mstances.

Let me turn your face to the light and see if I can recognise the little lad whom I used to carry pickaback across Hatherleigh Water.”

Sam looked in his face--such a kindly good placid face, that it seemed beautiful, though by some rules it was irregular and ugly enough. The Dean laid his hand on Sam's curly head, and said, ”G.o.d bless you, Samuel Buckley,” and won Sam's heart for ever.

All this time Captain Brentwood had stood with his back against the chimney-piece, perfectly silent, having banished all expression from his countenance; now, however, Major Buckley brought up the Dean and introduced him:--

”My dear Brentwood, the Dean of B----; not Dean to us though, so much as our dear old friend Frank Maberly.”

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