Part 18 (2/2)
Geoffrey, so soon as he could speak, declared it an accident, and as such it pa.s.sed outside Greene Ferne. The only witness indeed was Ba.s.set, whose sodden word was not worth taking, even had any stir been made. So soon as the excitement of the day was over, too, Ba.s.set--old soldier as he was--seeing which side his bread was b.u.t.tered, turned round, and openly proclaimed that he was drunk when he made his statement about the fight. In _this_ everybody believed him. But Valentine, whose remorse was beyond expression, notwithstanding Geoffrey's wish, gave Felix and Squire Thorpe the true version of the case, laying all the blame upon himself. His jealousy and hatred disappeared, the old friends.h.i.+p returned, and he did all in his power to show it.
Though Margaret did not know all the truth, she was not without a pang of conscience, for she recollected the nutting, and reproached herself for not discouraging Valentine. It was long before Geoffrey recovered; as the doctor had said, the wound, though not dangerous, was painful, and took more time to heal than seemed proportioned to its character.
Margaret nursed him with all the devotion of love; May aided her; and indeed his convalescence was almost an idyl. Friends gathered round to cheer and make the time pa.s.s happily--Felix, the Squire, Valentine. The two farmers, Ruck and Hedges, dropped in occasionally to inquire. The spring almost came again, before he was strong, and it was then necessary to take a change. The pleasant circle at Greene Ferne was temporarily broken up, but for a short time only. In the summer they met again at the sea, and a double marriage was arranged for the autumn, when May's year of mourning had elapsed. After old Fisher's affairs were investigated, it was found that his loss over the racing was but a few hundreds--quite a small sum in comparison with his fortune. But his soul had become so steeped in avarice that he could not endure it; it had struck him as heavy a blow as if it had been the whole acc.u.mulation of his life. There were ample means left--for a farmer, positive wealth--and May was comparatively rich. The old hags who robbed the house escaped punishment, though made to disgorge their plunder. May could not be prevailed upon to prosecute--the whole matter was too painful to be raked up. Ba.s.set benefited perhaps as much as any one; Margaret gave him the credit of saving Geoffrey's life, and when she began to show an interest in him the old trooper brightened up. He had hitherto felt himself an outcast. Now he was made much of, the better qualities came out; he furbished himself up, and held his head higher.
He could not indeed entirely break from drink, but he did, with an effort, curtail his gla.s.ses. He attended to his work, and became a valuable a.s.sistant. So much does the mind affect the body, that the influence of kindness can even improve the condition of a drunkard.
Valentine, thankful to him for escape from a lifelong regret, petted him. Geoffrey, grateful for the blow which had diverted the cartridge, petted him. Squire Thorpe relented, and even gave him permission to shoot in Thorpe Wood. Of this permission Augustus did not make much use. The incitement of poaching was lacking.
The double marriage--Margaret and Geoffrey, May and Felix--took place early in September at Millbourne Church. As the carriages rolled away, after breakfast, from the porch at Greene Ferne, in the beautiful suns.h.i.+ne, and with the shouts of the villagers and the rattling of rice, Felix thought to himself, ”This day at least we may surely say 'Gaudeamus' in the fullness of our hearts.” Valentine could not bring himself to be present at the wedding--he would not have been human if he had; but he sent the brides a handsome present each. They are both to reside at Kingsbury, within easy reach of Greene Ferne.
By Margaret's special wish, in the afternoon there was a dinner, or, as the guests persisted in calling it, a supper, to the labourers and their wives in the barn. In superintending this, Mrs Estcourt found some little relief from the sadness which always weighs upon those left behind after a joyous marriage. It was a large affair, for besides the men employed on Greene Ferne, others working on adjoining farms were bidden to the feast, which was also to be countenanced by many of higher rank.
There was less difficulty in clearing the barn for the purpose, because stores of corn are not now kept. The winnowing machine was stowed away in the corner, together with the polished bushel measure and the broad wooden shovels. A floor so level was easily swept, though the roof was far beyond the reach of the longest broom. It was supported by beams of chestnut--a lofty piece of ancient workmans.h.i.+p, not unlike some n.o.ble halls that yet exist. The cobwebs up there had not been disturbed for generations; the bats among the tiles slept on heedless of the stir. A n.o.ble apartment it made, wide and long and high; a place where men could breathe and live a larger, if a more rugged, life than in the contracted s.p.a.ce of rooms.
Against the door-posts inside, and at intervals around the walls, rose columns of corn; whole sheaves of wheat, stacked in piles, for a less quant.i.ty would scarcely have been seen in so great a s.p.a.ce. Nor was the white and drooping barley forgotten; and these, the wealth of the cornfields, were strewn in profusion with the flowers that were yet in bloom. Scarlet poppies, blue harebells, the yellow corn marigolds, the mauve mallows, the ”b.u.t.ter and eggs,” and woodbine--all were there, gathered by willing hands. Ferns, some already yellow and some green, tall reeds with beautiful waving heads, and rushes, were placed at the side of the wheat, relieving the bright flowers and the dry-looking corn with their green; branches of oak, upon whose twigs the young acorns were showing; branches of hazel with the nuts, and of hawthorn with the haws, were hung between the sheaves.
The tables, with the exception of one across at the top, were of plank on trestles, and the seats of equally primitive style--stools from the farm, and so on; and when they ran short, a broad plank stretched from one pile of empty cheese-vats to another. Upon the tables, flowers in pots and cut flowers were arranged.
Augustus Ba.s.set was of considerable a.s.sistance in these preparations--he always was when there was a prospect of unlimited feeding and liquor.
Nor did he forget to glance in at the kitchen, and see that the copper was full of potatoes--for no pots could contain the quant.i.ty required-- and that enough cabbage had been cut to fill a few bushel baskets.
As the time fixed approached the older men began to stroll up, and after them the women--always apart from their husbands; men came with men, and women with women, not together, though they might dwell in the same cottage. Among them were old Gaffer Pistol-legs, Jabez the shepherd, and his nephew, and Jenny the dairy-maid from the Warren, for whom a trap had been specially sent. The men on the farm who, in attendance on the cattle, had been obliged to work till the last moment, now came to the pump in the yard and splashed themselves with much noise, amid the rough jokes of the idlers around.
By-and-by, Squire Thorpe and Mrs Estcourt, Farmer Ruck and Farmer Hedges, and several more farmers who had been invited came across from the house, and immediately old and young began to take their places.
The Squire said the shortest of graces, the covers were lifted, and the smoke and steam from yards of solid beef and mutton rose into the lofty roof. At the cross-table at the top a plentiful supply of game appeared, from Thorpe Wood. Now the solid beef began to gape as slice after slice was cut and piled upon the plates that came faster and faster, till the carvers, standing up to their work, were forced to take off their jackets to have their arms at greater liberty. The clatter of knives and forks reverberated in the hollow barn--the men ate steadily on with a calm persistent thoroughness, like the mill-wheel at the Warren, their chins wagged without haste and without rest. The process was only varied by a momentary pause while the two-p.r.o.nged forks were stuck into the potatoes in the dish, a much more effectual plan than bothering with a spoon, or while a goodly load of salt was shovelled from the salt-cellar with the tip of the knife. Meantime Augustus, happy as a king, with the can of ale in his hands, went round and round and up and down the long tables, filling the mugs and gla.s.ses, never weary of well-doing. No one can understand the latent possibilities of physical development he possesses till he has seen the agricultural labourer eat. It is indeed a goodly spectacle, and for my part I own I love to see it, and wish them all, great and small, plenty wherewith to heartily satisfy those honest appet.i.tes. But it is easy to see how we English conquered the world, since
The seat of empire is the belly.
So steadily went the eating, that before the meat was quite done already the sun began to slope downwards, and shone full in at the open doorway.
For the barn having no windows to speak of, the vast broad doors, wider than the gates of Gaza, were thrown open both for light and air. The sunbeams fell full on the face of Gaffer Pistol-legs, who chanced to sit opposite, and lit up his ancient features, which might have been carved by a monk for a gargoyle, so wrinkled were they. After awhile the rays seemed to awaken the patriarch from his munching, and, blinking his eyes, he looked up and placed both his fists upon the table, still holding his knife and fork, the points upward. His neighbours, seeing that the old man was about to speak, stayed with half-open mouths to listen.
”This be the vinest veast, you,” said the Ancient, ”this be the vinest veast, you, as ever I zeed since ould Squire Thorpe--his'n's feyther [nodding his head towards the top of the table]--got up the junketing when the news come of the battle of Waterloo, dree-score year ago. The vinest veast althegither since ould Bony were whopped. Yellucks!”--as much as to say, Look here, that is my dictum.
This poor old man, humble as he was, had many friends, both of his own cla.s.s and among those above him, to give him a kind word or a lift. A contrast, this, with the ancient and brutal miser Fisher, who had faced that other magnificent sunset on the hills the year before.
After the pudding Squire Thorpe gave the health of the brides and their bridegrooms; and rising _en ma.s.se_, they made the old barn ring again with cheering and hammering of the tables. Down fell two of the plank-seats, and added a booming roar to the noise.
Mrs Estcourt slipped out into the air for a minute, and came through the rick-yard. The rosy light of the setting sun, now behind the trees of Thorpe Wood, lit up the house and the barn and the fields. The call of the partridge, ”Caer-wit, caer-wit!” sounded across the stubble. Far away upon the hill shone a brilliant red light--a very beacon--flas.h.i.+ng and gleaming. It was the last level rays of the sun reflected from the west window of the church--a light of good omen for those who had therein been made one that day. Yet joying in their joy and hoping their hopes, the tears came fast from her swelling heart. But there arose the tuning of a fiddle--”tum-tum, tup-tup!”--and her sigh, as she turned away and forced down her feelings, was drowned in a roar and stamping from the barn. It was her own health that they were drinking, and immediately afterwards a crowd began to pour forth from the wide portal. The older men settled to their pipes--an ample supply of long clay pipes, stacked anglewise, was provided for them. But the lissom young men and the giggling girls trooped across the rick-yard to the level meadow, which the sheep had cropped close, and which had been also carefully mown for the purpose. Had it rained, there would still have been dancing-room in the barn; but it was warm and dry, so they footed it on the sward.
Mrs Estcourt, a little shrinking and nervous, had to open it with the Squire; and, instead of finis.h.i.+ng, they commenced with ”Sir Roger de Coverley,” that fine old country dance. After a short time she left it, but the rest grew wilder and wilder. The dancing was like a maelstrom, sucking in all that came within its circling sound. Those who had at first held aloof, saying that they were too old or stiff, or didn't know how, by degrees were drawn in, and frisked as merrily as the lads. So the wearyful women, whose hearts had already been made glad, hummed the tune and flung through it with a will. The children set up a dance of their own, joining hands in a ring. ”Let's jine in,” said Farmer Ruck to Farmer Hedges; and away they went with the stream--a sight not to be seen but once in fifty years. The Ancient, Daddy Pistol-legs, sitting in the barn and listening to the music, lifted his oaken staff and beat time upon an empty barrel. So l.u.s.tily did the village band blow and fiddle that the carthorses in the meadows, who always c.o.c.k up their ears at the sound of a drum or a trumpet, galloped to and fro with excitement.
The Squire's gamekeeper by-and-by came along, with his gun under his arm, to see the fun, when Augustus Ba.s.set, with a fine sense of magnanimity, went up to him with his can and poured him out a foaming mug. But as he went to the house to replenish the can he could not forbear muttering to himself, ”I can't see what _he_ wants to show _his_ face here for.”
The bats had now left the tiles of the barn, and were wheeling to and fro. But the band blew and fiddled, well refreshed by Augustus's can, and the dancers whirled about yet more fast and furious. Sly couples, however, occasionally slipped aside to do a little courting. Tummas and Rause, after slowly sauntering up the hedgerow, came to a gateway, and, looking through, beheld the broad round face of the full moon placidly s.h.i.+ning.
”Aw, thur be the moon, you; a' be as big as a waggon-wheel,” said Tummas, putting his arm as far round her plump waist as it would go.
”Let I bide,” said Rause.
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