CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XIV.Men of high culture and sensitive justice, who have much to do with ill–taught workmen, lie under a terrible disadvantage. They fear to presume upon the mere accident of their own position, they dread to extract more dues from another than they in his place would render, they shrink from saying what may recall the difference betwixt them, they cannot bear to be stiff and dogmatic, yet they know that any light word may be taken in heavy earnest. True sympathy is the only thing to bring master and man together; and sympathy is a subtle vein, direct when nature hits it, but crooked and ungrammatical to the syntax of education. Cradock Nowell often touched it, without knowing how; and hence his popularity among the “lower classes”. Clayton hit upon it only in the softer sex. Bull Garnet knew how to move it deeply, and owed his power to that knowledge, even more than to his energy.Cradock was pondering these things in the pipe of contemplation, when a pair of keen eyes twinkled in at the window, and a shrewd, shrill voice made entry.“Pray let me in, Mr. Cradock Nowell; I want to inquire about the grapes”.“What a wonderful man that is”! said Cradock to himself, as he came from his corner reluctantly to open the French window; “there is nothing he doesnʼt inquire about. Erotetic philosopher! He has only been here some three or four days, and he knows all our polity better than we do! I wish his wife would come; though I believe he is an honest fellow”.Unconscious of any satirical antithesis, he opened the window, and admitted the polypragmonic doctor; and, knowing that homœopathic treatment is the wisest for garrulous subjects, he began upon him at once. Nor omitted a spice of domesticity, which he thought would be sovereign.“Now, Dr. Hutton, it is too bad of you to wander about like a bachelor. How long before we have the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Hutton”?“My dear boy, you know the reason; I hope you know the reason. Your roads are very rough for ladies, especially when in delicate health, and our four–wheel is being mended. So I rode over alone; and what a lovely ride it is! Ah, Clayton—yes, I saw Clayton somewhere. But your father has promised most kindly to send a carriage to–morrowto Geopharmacy Lodge—the name of our little place, sir”.At the thought of his home, the little doctor pulled up both his shirt–collars, and looked round the room disparagingly.“Oh, I am very glad to hear it. Meanwhile, you would like to see our grapes. Let me show you the way to the vinery; though I cannot take you without misgivings. Your gardening fame has frightened us. Our old man, Snip, is quite afraid of your new lights and experience”.“Sensible lad”, muttered Rufus Hutton, who was pleasantly conceited—“uncommonly sensible lad! I am not at all sure that he isnʼt a finer fellow than Clayton. But I must take my opportunity now, while he has his stock off. There is something wrong: I am sure of it”.“Excuse me a moment”, said Cradock; “I am sorry to keep you waiting, but I must just put on my neckerchief, if I can only find it. How very odd! I could have declared I put it on that table”.“Whatʼs that I see on the floor there, by the corner of the bookcase”? Rufus pointed his cane at the tie, which lay where himself had thrown it.“Oh, thank you; I must be getting blind, for I am sure I looked there just now”.While the young man stooped forward, the little doctor, who had posted himself for the purpose,secured a quick glimpse at the back of his neck, where the curling hair fell sideways. That glance increased his surprise, and confirmed his strange suspicions. The surprise and suspicion had broken upon him, as he stood by the farmerʼs wicket, and Cradock sprang up to the bowling crease; now, in his excitement and curiosity, he forgot all scruples. It was strange that he had felt any, for he was not very sensitive; but Cradock, with all his good nature, had a certain unconscious dignity, from which Dr. Hutton retreated.“The grapes I came to inquire about”, said Rufus, with much solemnity, “are not those in the vinery, which I have seen often enough, but those on your neck, Mr. Nowell”.Cradock looked rather amazed, but more at the inquirerʼs manner than at his seeming impertinence.“I really cannot see how the ‘grapes’, as some people call the blue lines on my neck, can interest you, sir, or are important enough to be spoken of”.“Then I do, Cradock Nowell. Do you refuse to let me see them”?“Certainly not; though I should refuse it to almost any one else. Not that I am sensitive about such a trifle. You, as a medical man, and an old friend of my father, are welcome to your autopsy. Is not that what you call it, sir”?Nevertheless, from the tone of his voice, Rufus Hutton knew that he liked it not—for it was afamiliarity, and seemed to the youth a childish one.“Sit down, young man, sit down”, said the doctor, very pompously, and waiving further discussion. “I am not—I mean to say you are taller than when I first—ah, yes, manipulated you”.As the doctor warmed to his subject, he grew more and more professional, and perhaps less gentlemanly, until his good feelings came into play, for his heart, after all, was right. All the terms which he used shall not be repeated, because of their being so medical. Only this, that he said at last, after a long inspection—“Sir, this confirms to a nicety my metrostigmatic theory”.“Dr. Hutton, I know not what you mean, neither do I wish to know”.Cradock put on his neckerchief anyhow, and walked to his chair by the mantelpiece, although no fire was burning. The medical man said nothing, but gravely looked out of the window. Presently the young gentleman felt that he was not acting hospitably.“Excuse me, sir, if I have seemed rude; but you do not know how these things—— I mean, when I think of my mother. Let me ring for some sherry and sandwiches; you have had no lunch”.“Ring for some brandy, my boy; and give me a cheroot. Fine property! Look at the sweep of the land—and to think of losing it all”!Instead of ringing, Cradock went and fetched the cognac himself, and took down a glass from a cupboard.“Two glasses, my dear boy, two”.“No, sir; I never touch it”.“Then take it now, for the first time. Here, let me feel your pulse”.“Once for all, I beg you to tell me what is all this mystery? Do you think I am a child”?“Fill your pipe again, while I light a cigar”.Cradock did as he was told, although with trembling hands. Rufus Hutton went for a wine–glass, filled it with brandy, and pushed it across, then gulped down half a tumblerful; but Cradock did not taste his.“Now, my boy, can you bear some very bad news indeed”?“Anything better than this suspense. I have heard some bad news lately, which has seasoned me for anything”.He referred to Amy Rosedew.“It is this. You are not your fatherʼs heir; you are only the younger son”.“Is that all”?“All! Isnʼt that enough? Good God! What more would you have?—you donʼt deserve brandy”.“My father will be glad, and so will Clayton, and—perhaps one other. But I donʼt mean to say that I am”.“I should rather fancy not. But you take it most philosophically”!Dr. Hutton gazed at the poor young fellow in surprise and admiration, trying vainly to make him out. Then he reached over to Cradockʼs elbow, took his glass of cognac, and swallowed it.“This has upset me, my boy, more than you. How miserable I felt about it! But perhaps you place no faith in the assertion I have made”?“Indeed, it has quite amazed me; and I have had no time to think of it. My head seems spinning round. Please to say no more just for a minute or two, unless you find it uncomfortable”.He leaned back in his chair, and tried to think, but could not.Rufus Hutton said nothing. In spite of all his experience, the scene was very strange to him; and he watched it out with interest, which deepened into strong feeling.“Now, Dr. Hutton”, said the youth, trying to look as he thought he ought, though he could not keep the tears back, “I beg you to think of me no more. Let us have the strictest justice. I have not known you so long—so long as you have known me—but I feel that you would not say what you have said, without the strongest evidence”.“Confound me for a meddlesome fool! My dear boy, no one has heard us. Let us sink the matter entirely. Least said, soonest mended”.“What do you mean? Do you think for a moment that I would be a blackguard”?“Hush!—donʼt get so excited. Why, you look as fierce as Bull Garnet. All I mean is—you know the old saying—ʼQuieta non movere’”.“The motto of fools and dastards. ‘Have it out’, is an Englishmanʼs rule. No sneaking tricks for me, sir. Oh, what a fool I am! I beg your pardon with all my heart; you will make allowances for me. Instead of being rude, I ought to be grateful for kindness which even involves your honour”.And he held out his hand to the doctor.“Crad, my dear boy”, exclaimed Mr. Hutton, with a big tear twinkling in each little eye, “the finest thing I ever did was showing you to the daylight. If I rob you of what has appeared your birthright, curse all memorandum–books, and even my metrostigmatic treatise, which I fully meant to immortalize me”.“And so I hope it may do. I am not so calm as I ought to be. Somehow a fellow canʼt be, when he is taken off the hooks so. I know you will allow for this; I beg you to allow for nothing else, except a gentlemanʼs delicacy. Give me your reasons, or not, as you like. The matter will be for my father”.Cradock looked proud and beautiful. But the depth of his eyes was troubled. A thousandthoughts were moving there, like the springs that feed a lake.“Hah, ho, very hard work”! said Rufus Hutton, puffing; “I vote that we adjourn. I do love the open air so, ever since I took to gardening”.Rufus Hutton hated “sentiment”, but he could not always get rid of it.CHAPTER XV.On the morning of that same day, our Amy at her fatherʼs side, in the pretty porch of the Rectory, uttered the following wisdom: “Darling Papples, Papelikidion—is there any other diminutivicle half good enough for you, or stupid enough for me?—my own father (thatʼs best of all), you must not ride Coræbus to–day”.“Amy amata, peramata a me, aim of my life, amicula, in the name of sweet sense, why not”?“Because, pa, he has had ten great long carrots, and my best hat full of new oats; and I know he will throw you off”.“Scrupulum injecisti. I shouldnʼt like to come off to–day. And it rained the night before last”. So said the rector, proudly contemplating a pair of new kerseymeres, which Channing the clerk had made upon trial. “Nevertheless, I think that I have read enough on the subject to hold on by his mane, if he does not kick unreasonably. And ifhe gives me time to soothe him—that horse is fond of Greek—and, after all, the ground is soft”.“No, dad, I donʼt think it is prudent. And you wonʼt have me there, you know”.“My own pet, that is too true. And with all your knowledge of riding! Why, my own seems quite theoretical by the side of yours. And yet I have kept my seat under very trying circumstances. You remember the time when Coræbus met the trahea”?“Yes, pa; but he hadnʼt had any oats; and I was there to advise you”.“True, my child, quite true. But I threw my equilibrium just as a hunter does. And I think I could do it again. I bore in mind what Xenophon says—— ”“Pa, here he is! And he does look so fat, I know he will be restive”.“Prepare your Aunt Doxyʼs mind, my dear, not to scold more than she can help, in case of the worst—I mean, if the legs of my trousers want rubbing. How rash of me, to be sure, to have put them on to–day! Prius dementat. I trust sincerely—and old Channing is so proud of them, and he says the cut is so fashionable. Nevertheless, I heard our Clayton, as he went down the gravelwalk, treating, with what he himself would have called ‘colores orationis’, upon Uncle Johnʼs new bags;θύλακοι, I suppose he meant, as opposed toἀναξυρίδες. I was glad that the subject possessed so lively an interest for him; notwithstanding which,I was very glad Mr. Channing did not hear him”.“The impudence! Well, I am astonished. And to see the things he brought back from Oxford—quince–coloured, with a stripe that wide, like one of my fancy gourds. Iʼll be sure to have it out with him. No, I canʼt, though; I forgot”. And Amy looked down with a rosy smile, remembering the delicacy of the subject. “But I am quite sure of one thing, pa: Mr. Cradock would never have done it. Ræbus, donʼt kick up the gravel. Do you suppose we can roll every day? Oh, you are so fat, you darling”!“When the sides are deep”, said the rector, quoting from Xenophon, “and somewhat protuberant at the stomach, the horse is generally more easy to ride. What a comfort, Amy! Stronger, moreover, and more capable of enjoying food”.“He has enjoyed a rare lot this morning. At least I hope you have, you sweetest. Why, pa, I declare you are whistling”!“It also behoves a horseman to know that it is a time–honoured precept to soothe the steed by whistling, and rouse him by a sharp sound made between the tongue and the palate”.“Oh, father, donʼt do that. Promise me now, dear, wonʼt you”?“I will promise you, my child, because I donʼt know how to do it. I tried very hard last Wednesday, and only produced a guttural. But Ithink I shall understand it, after six or seven visiting days. At least, if the air is sharp”.“No, pa, I hope you wonʼt. It would be so reckless of you; and I know you will get a sore throat”.“Sweet of my world, cor cordium, you have wrapped me with three involucres tighter than any hazel–nut. They will all go into my pocket the moment I am round the corner”.“No, daddy, you wonʼt be so cruel. And after the rime this morning! Ræbus will tell if you do. Wonʼt you now, my pretty”?Coræbus was a handsome pony, but not a handsome doer. He could go at a rare pace when he liked, but he did not often like it. His wind was short, and so was his temper, and he looked at things unpleasantly. Perhaps he had been disappointed in love in the tenderness of his youth. Nevertheless he had many good points, and next to himself loved Amy. He would roll his black eyes, put his nose to her lips, and almost leave oats to look at her. His colour varied sensitively according to the season. In the height of summer, a dappled bay; towards the autumnal equinox, a tendency to nuttiness; then a husky bristle of deepest brown flaked with hairs of ginger; after the clips a fine mouse–colour, with a spirited sense of nakedness, fierce whiskers, and a love of buck jumps. Then ere the blessed Christmas–tide, nature began to blanket him with a nap the colour of black frost; and so through the grizzle ofspring he came round to his proper bay once more. Amy declared she could tell every month by the special hue of Coræbus; but, albeit she was the most truthful of girls, her heart was many degrees too warm for her lips to be always at dew–point.Both in the stable and out of it, that pony had a bluff way with his heels, which none but himself thought humorous. He never meant any harm, however—it was only his mode of expressing himself; and he liked to make a point when he felt his new shoes tingling. But as for kicking his Amy, he was not quite so low as that. He would not even jump about, when she was on his back, more than was just the proper thing to display her skill and figure. “Oh, you sad Coræby”, always brought him to sadness; and he expected a pat from her little gloved hand, and cocked his tail with dignity the moment he received it. Nevertheless, for her father, the rector of the parish, he entertained, when the oats were plentiful, nonconformist sentiments, verging almost upon scepticism. He liked him indeed, as the whole world must; he even admired his learning, and turned up his eyes at the Greek; but he was not impressed, as he should have been, by the sacerdotal office. Fatal defect of all, he knew that the rector could not ride. John Rosedew was a reasoning man, and uncommonly strong in the legs, but a great deal too philosophical to fit himself over a horse well. He had written a treatise upon the PelethronianLapiths (which he could never be brought to read before a learned society), he knew all about the Olympics and Pythics, and Xenophon gave him a text–book; but, for all that, he never put his feet the right way into the stirrups.“Look at him now”, said John, as the boy led the pony up and down, while Amy was knotting the mufflers so that they never might come undone again; “how beautifully Xenophon describes him! ‘When the horse is excited to assume that artificial air which he adopts when he is proud, he then delights in riding, becomes magnificent, terrific, and attracts attention!’ And again, ‘persons beholding such a horse pronounce him generous, free in his motions, fit for military exercise, high–mettled, haughty, and both pleasant and terrible to look on’. Pleasant, I suppose, for other people, and terrible for the rider. But why our author insists so much upon the horse being taught to ‘rear gracefully’, I am not horseman enough as yet to understand. It has always appeared to me that Coræbus rears too much already. And then the direction—ʼbut if after riding, and copious perspiration, and when he has reared gracefully, he be relieved immediately both of the rider and reins, there is little doubt that he will spontaneously advance to rear when necessary’. What does that mean, I ask you? I never find it necessary, except, indeed, when the little girls jump up and pull my coat–tails, in their inquisition for apples, and then I am always afraid that they may suffersome detriment. But let us not overtask his patience; here he comes again. Jem, my boy, lead him up to the chair”.“Any jam in your pocket, father”?“No, my child, not any. Your excellent Aunt Eudoxia has it all under lock and key. Now I will mount according to Xenophon, though I do not find that he anywhere prescribes a Windsor chair. ‘When he has well prepared himself for the ascent, let him support his body with his left hand, and stretching forth his right hand let him leap on horseback, and when he mounts thus he will not present an uncomely spectacle to those behind. There, I am up, most accurately; excellent horse, and great writer! And now for the next direction: ‘We do not approve of the same bearing a man has in a carriage, but that an upright posture be observed, with the legs apart’”.“How could they be otherwise, pa, when the horse is between them”?“Your criticisms are rash, my child. Jem, how dare you laugh, sir? I will buy a pair of spurs, I declare, the next time I go to Ringwood. Good–bye, darling; Aunt Doxy will take you up to the park, when the sun comes out, to see all the wonderful doings. I shall be home in time to dress for the dinner at the Hall”.Sweet Amy kissed her hand, and curtseyed—as she loved to do to her father; and, after two or three wayward sallies (repressed by Jem with thegardening broom), Coræbus pricked his little ears, and shook himself into a fair jog–trot. So with his elbows well stuck out, and shaking merrily to and fro, his right hand ready to grasp the pommel in case of consternation, and one leg projected beyond the other, after the manner of a fowlʼs side–bone, away rode John Rosedew in excellent spirits, to begin his Wednesday parochial tour.Being duly victualled, and thoroughly found, for a voyage of long duration and considerable hazard, the good ship “John Rosedew” set sail every Wednesday for commerce with the neighbourhood. This expedition was partly social, partly ministerial, in a great measure eleemosynary, and entirely loving and amicable. There was no bombardment of dissenters, no firing of red–hot shot at Papists, no up with the helm and run him down, if any man launched on the mare magnum, or any frail vessel missed stays. And yet there was no compromise, no grand circle sailing, no luffing to a trade–wind; straight was the course, and the chart most clear, and the good ship bound, with favour of God, for a haven beyond the horizon. Barnacles and vile teredoes, algæ and desmidious trailers:—I doubt if there be more sins in our hearts to stop us from loving each other than parasites and leeching weeds to clog a stout shipʼs bottom. Nevertheless she bears them on, beautifies and cleanses them, until they come to temperate waters, where the harm has failedthem. So a good man carries with him those who carp and fasten on him; content to take their little stings, if the utterance purify them.The parish of Nowelhurst straggles away far into the depths of the forest. To the southward indeed it has moorland and heather, with ridges, and spinneys, and views of the sea, and fir–trees naked and worn to the deal by the chafing of the salt winds. But all away to the west, north, and east, the dark woods hold dominion, and you seem to step from the parish churchyard into the grave of ages. The village and the village warren, the chase, and the Hall above them, are scooped from out the forest shadow, in the shape of a hunting boot. Lay the boot on its side with the heel to the east, and the top towards the north, and we get pretty near the topography. The village scattered along the warren forms the foot and instep, the chase descending at right angles is the leg and ankle, the top will serve to represent the house with its lawns and gardens, the back seam may run as the little river which flows under Nowelhurst bridge. The shank of the spur is the bridge and road, the rowel the church and rectory. Away to the west beyond the toe, some quarter of a mile on the Ringwood–road, stands the smithy kept by the well–known Roger Sweetland, who can out–swear any man in the parish, and fears no one except Bull Garnet. Our sketchy boot will leave unshown the whereabouts of the Garnet cottage, unless we suppose the huntsman to insert just histoe in the stirrup. Then the top of the iron rung will mark the house of the steward, a furlong or so north–west of the village, with its back to the lane which leads from the smithy to the Hall. And this lane is the short cut from Nowelhurst Hall to Ringwood. It saves three–quarters of a mile, and risks a little more than three–quarters of the neck. Large and important as the house is, it has no high road to Ringwood, and gets away with some difficulty even towards Lyndhurst or Lymington. Bull Garnet was always down upon the barbarity of the approaches, but Sir Cradock never felt sore on the subject, save perhaps for a week at Christmas–tide. He had never been given to broad indiscriminate hospitality, but loved his books and his easy–chair, and his friend of ancient standing.The sun came out and touched the trees with every kind of gilding, as John Rosedew having done the village, and learned every gammerʼs alloverishness, and every gafferʼs rheumatics, drew the snaffle upon Coræbus longside of Job Smithʼs pigsty, and plunged southward into the country. He saw how every tree was leaning forth its green with yellowness; even proud of the novelty, like a child who has lost his grandmother. And though he could not see very far, he observed a little thing which he had never noticed before. It was that while the other trees took their autumn evenly, the elm was brushed with a flaw of gold while the rest of the tree was verdure. A single branch would stand forth from the others, mellow againsttheir freshness, like a harvest–sheaf set up perhaps on the foreground of a grass–plot. The rector thought immediately of the golden spray of Æneas, and how the Brazilian manga glistens in the tropic moonlight. Then soothing his pony with novel sounds, emulous of equestrianism, he struck into a moorland track leading to distant cottages. Thence he would bear to the eastward, arrive at his hostel by one oʼclock, visit the woodmen, and home through the forest, with the evening shadows falling.CHAPTER XVI.Beside the embowered stream that forms the eastern verge of the chase, young Cradock Nowell sat and gazed, every now and then, into the water. Through a break in the trees beyond it, he could see one chimney–top and a streak of the thatch of the Rectory. In vain he hoped that Dr. Hutton would leave him to himself; for he did not wish to go into the proofs, but to meditate on the consequences. Some bitterness, no doubt, there was in the corner of his heart, when he thought of all that Clayton now had to offer Amy Rosedew. He had lately been told, as a mighty secret, something which grieved and angered him; and the more, that he must not speak of it, as his straightforward nature urged him. The secret was that innocent Amy met his brother Clayton, more than once, in the dusk of the forest, and met him by appointment. It grieved poor Cradock, because he loved Amy with all his unchangeable heart; itangered him, because he thought it very mean of Clayton to take advantage of one so young and ignorant of the world. But never until the present moment, as he looked at the homely thatch in the distance, and the thin smoke curling over it, had it occurred to his honest mind, that his brother might not be like himself—that Clayton might mean ill by the maiden.And now for the moment it seemed more likely, as he glanced back at the lordly house, commanding the country for miles around, and all that country its fief and its thrall, and now the whole destined for Clayton. He thought of the meanness about the Ireland, and two or three other little things, proofs of a little nature. Then he gazed at the Rectory thatch again, and the smoke from the kitchen chimney, and seemed to see pure playful Amy making something nice for her father.“Good God! I would shoot him if he did; or strike him dead into this water”.In the hot haste of youth he had spoken aloud, with his fist gathered up, and his eyes flashing fire. Rufus Hutton saw and heard him, and thought of it many times after that day.“Oh, you are thinking of Caldo, because he snapped at me. There are no signs of hydrophobia. You must not think of shooting him”.“I was not thinking of Caldo. I hope I did not mean it. God knows, I am very wicked”.“So we are all, my boy. I should like to see afellow that wasnʼt. Iʼd pay fifty pounds for his body, and dissect him into an angel”.Cradock Nowell smiled a little at such a reward for excellence, and then renewed his gaze of dreary bewilderment at the water.“Now let me show you my tracings, Cradock. Three times I have pulled them out, and you wonʼt condescend to glance at them. You have made up your mind to abdicate upon myipse dixi. Now look at the bend sinister, that is yours; the bend dexter is for the elder brother”.“Dr. Hutton, it may be, and is, I believe, false shame on my part; but I wish to hear nothing about it. Perhaps, if my mother were living, I might not have been so particular. But giving, as she did, her life for mine, I cannot regard it medically. The question is now for my father. I will not enter into it”.“Oh the subjectiveness of the age”! said Rufus Hutton, rising, then walking to and fro on the bank, as he held discourse with himself; “here is a youth who ought to be proud, although at the cost of his inheritance, of illustrating, in the most remarkable manner, indeed I may say of originating, my metrostigmatic theory. He carries upon the cervical column a clear impression of grapes, and they say that before the show at Romsey the gardener was very cross indeed about his choice Black Hamburgs. His brother carries the identical impress, only with the direction inverted—dexter in fact, and dexter was themark of the elder son. This I can prove by the tracing made at the time, not with any view to future identification, but from the interest I felt, at an early stage of my experience, in a question then under controversy. If I prove this, what happens? Why, that he loses everything—the importance, the house, the lands, the title; and becomes the laughing–stock of the county as the sham Sir Cradock. What ought he to do at once, then? Why, perhaps to toss me into that hole, where I should never get out again. By Gad, I am rash to trust myself with him, and no other soul in the secret”! Here Dr. Hutton shuddered to think how little water it would take to drown him, and the river so dark and so taciturn! “At any rate, he ought to fall upon me with forceps, and probe, and scalpel, and tear my evidence to atoms. For, after all, what is it, without corroboration? But instead of that, he only says, ‘Dr. Hutton, no more of this, if you please, no more of this! The question is now for my father’. And he must know well enough to which side his father will lean in the inquiry. Confound the boy! If he had only coaxed me with those great eyes, I would have kept it all snug till Doomsday. Oh what will my Rosa say to me? She has always loved this boy, and admired him so immensely”.Perhaps it was his pretty young wifeʼs high approval of Cradock which first had made the testy Rufus a partisan of Clayton. The cause of hishaving settled at “Geopharmacy Lodge” was, that upon his return from India he fell in love with a Hampshire maiden, whom he met “above bar” at Southampton. How he contrived to get introduced to her, he alone can tell; but he was a most persevering fellow, and little hampered with diffidence. She proved to be the eldest daughter of Sir Cradockʼs largest tenant, a man of good standing and education, who lived near Fordingbridge. As Rufus had brought home tidy pickings from his appointment in India, the only thing he had to do was to secure the ladyʼs heart. And this he was not long about, for many ladies like high colour even more than hairiness. First she laughed at his dancing ways, incessant mobility, and sharp eyes; but very soon she began to like him, and now she thought him a wonderful man. This opinion (with proper change of gender) was heartily reciprocated, and the result was that a happier couple never yet made fools of themselves, in the judgment of the world; never yet enjoyed themselves, in the sterling wisdom of home. They suited each other admirably in their very differences; they laughed at each other and themselves, and any one else who laughed at them.“Well, I shall be off”, said Dr. Hutton at last, in feigned disgust; “you will stare at the water all day, Mr. Cradock, and take no notice of me”.“I beg your pardon, I forgot myself; I did not mean to be rude, I assure you”.“I know you did not. I know you would neverbe rude to any one. Good–bye, I have business on hand”.“You will be back, Dr. Hutton, when my father returns from his ride? It is very foolish of me, but I cannot bear this suspense”.“Trust me. I will see to it. But he will not be back, they tell me, till nearly four oʼclock”.“Oh, what a time to wait! Donʼt send for me if you can help it. But, if he wants me, I will come”.“Good–bye, my lad. Keep your pecker up. There are hundreds of men in the world with harder lines than yours”.“I should rather think so. I only wish there were not”.Cradock attempted a lively smile, and executed a pleasant one, as Rufus Hutton shook his hand, and set off upon his business. And his business was to ride at once as far as the “Jolly Foresters”, that lonely inn on the Beaulieu–road, at the eastern end of the parish, whereat John Rosedew baited Coræbus at the turn of the pastoral tour. The little doctor knew well enough, though he seldom passed that way, how the smart Miss Penny of former days, Mrs. OʼGaghanʼs assistant, was now the important Mrs. George Cripps, hostess of the “Jolly Foresters”, where the four roads met.Meanwhile, the scaffolds went on merrily under Mr. Garnetʼs care, and so did the awnings, marquees, &c., and the terraces for the ladies. The lamps in the old oak being fixed, the boughs weremanned, like a frigateʼs yards, with dexterous fellows hoisting flags, devices, and transparencies, all prepared to express in fire the mighty name of Cradock. All the men must finish that night, lest any one lose his legitimate chance of being ancestrally drunk on the morrow. Cradock Nowell, wandering about, could not bear to go near them. Those two hours seemed longer to him than any year of his previous life. He went and told Caldo all about it; and that helped him on a little.Caldo was a noble setter, pure of breed, and high of soul, and heavily feathered on legs and tail. His colour was such a lily white, that you grieved for him on a wet fallow; and the bright red spots he was endowed with were like the cheeks of Helen. Delicate carmine, enriched with scarlet, mapped his back with islands; and the pink of his cheeks, where the whiskers grew, made all the young ladies kiss him. His nostrils were black as a double–lined tunnel leading into a pencil–mine; and his gums were starred with violet, and his teeth as white as new mushrooms. In all the county of Hants there was no dog to compare with him; for he came of a glorious strain, made perfect at Kingston, in Berkshire. Lift but a finger, and down he went, in the height of his hottest excitement; wave the finger, and off he dashed, his great eyes looking back for repression. For style of ranging, all dogs were rats to him, anywhere in the New Forest; so freely he went, so buoyant, so careful, and yet all the while so hilarious. Only onefault he had, and I never knew dog without one; he was jealous to the backbone.Cradock was dreadfully proud of him. Anything else he had in the world he would have given to Clayton, but he could not quite give Caldo; even though Clayton had begged, instead of backing his Wena against him. Wena was a very nice creature, anxious to please, and elegant; but of a different order entirely from the high–minded Caldo. Dogs differ as widely as we do. Who shall blame either of us?Cradock now leaned over Caldo, with the hot tears in his eyes, and gently titillating the sensitive part of his ears, and looking straight into his heart, begged to inform him of the trouble they were both involved in. “Have they taken the shooting from us”? was Caldoʼs first inquiry; and his eyes felt rather sore in his head that he should have to ask the question. “No, my boy, they havenʼt. But we must not go shooting any more, until the whole matter is settled”. “I hate putting off things till to–morrow”, Caldo replied, impatiently; “the cock–pheasants come almost up to my kennel. What the deuce is to come of it”? “Caldo, please to be frigido. You shall come to my room by–and–by. I shall be able then to smoke a pipe, and we will talk about it together. You know that I have never cared about the title and all that stuff”.“I know that well enough”, said Caldo; “nevertheless, I do. It gives me a status as a dog, which I thoroughly appreciate. Am I to come downfrom goodly paunches to liver and lights and horses’ heads and hounds’ food? I donʼt think I could stand it. But I would live on a crust a day, if you would only come and live with me”. And he nuzzled up to his master, in a way that made his tears come.Cradock was sent for suddenly. Old Hogstaff trotted across the yard (wherein he seldom ventured) to say that Sir Cradock Nowell wished to see his son. Cradock following hastily, with all his heart in his mouth, wondered at the penny–wort, the wall–rue, and the snap–dragons, which he had never seen before. Hogstaff tottered along before him, picking uneasily over the stones, bobbing his chin, and muttering.Sir Cradock sat in the long heavy room known as the “justice–hall”, where he and his brother magistrates held oyer of many a culprit. The great oak table was dabbed with ink, and the grey walls with mop–shaped blotches, where sullen prisoners had thrown their heads back, and refused to answer. At the lower end was Rufus Hutton, jerky, dogmatical, keenly important; while the old man sat at the head of the table, with his back to the pointed window, and looked (perhaps from local usage) more like a magistrate than a father. Straight up the long room Cradock walked, as calmly as if he were going to see where his quoit was stuck; then he made salutation to his father, as his custom was, for many bygone fashions were retained in the ancient family. Sir Cradock wasproud of his sonʼs self–command and dignified manly carriage, and if Dr. Hutton had not been there, he would have arisen to comfort him. As it was, he only said, with a faint and doubtful smile—“So, sir, I find that, after all, you are but an impostor”.Young Cradock was a proud man—man from that day forth, I shall call him “lad” no longer—ay, a prouder man, pile upon pile, than the father who once had spoiled him. But his pride was of the right sort—self–respect, not self–esteem. So he did not appeal, by word or look, to the sympathy lurking, and no doubt working, in the pith of his fatherʼs heart, but answered calmly and coldly, though his soul was hot with sorrow—“Sir, I believe it is so”. His eyes were on his fatherʼs. He longed to look him down, and felt the power to do it; but dropped them as should a good son. Although the white–haired man was glad at the promotion of his favourite, his heart was yearning towards the child more worthy to succeed him. But his notions of filial duty—which himself had been called upon to practise chiefly in memory, having seen very little of his father, and having lost him early—were of the stern, cold order now, the buckle and buckram style; though much relaxed at intervals in Master Claytonʼs favour. Finding no compunction, no humility in his sonʼs look, for a mistake which was wholly of others, and receiving no expression of grief at the loss ofheirship, Sir Cradock hardened back again into his proper dignity, and resumed his air of inquiry. “I wish John Rosedew were here”, he thought, and then it repented him of the wish, for he knew how stubborn the parson was, and how he would have Craddy the foremost.Rufus Hutton, all this time, was in the agony of holding his tongue. He tried to think of his Rosa, and so to abstract himself airily from the present scene. He had ridden over to see her yesterday, and now dwelt upon their doings. Rosa was to come to–morrow, and he would go to fetch his wife in a carriage that would amaze her. Then he met Cradock Nowellʼs eyes, and wondered what he was thinking of.“Now, Sir Cradock Nowell, this wonʼt do at all. How long are we to play fast and loose with a finer fellow than either of us”? Oh, that hot–headed Rufus, what mischief he did then! “Although I have not the honour, sir, of being in the commission of peace for this little county, I have taken magisterial duty in a district rather larger than Ireland thrown into Great Britain. And I can grow, per acre, thrice the amount of corn that any of your farmers can”. His colour deepened with self–assertion, like the central quills of a dahlia.“We must have you to teach us, Dr. Hutton. It is a thing to be thought about. But at present you are kindly interested in—in giving your evidence”.Even then, if Dr. Hutton, with all his practisedacumen, had mixed one grain of the knowledge of men, he might have done what he liked with Sir Cradock, and re–established the dynasty; unless, indeed, young Cradock were bent upon going through with everything. But the only mode Rufus Hutton knew of meeting the world was antagonism.“Yes, sir, you may think nothing of it. But I have hunted a thing for three hundred leagues, and got at it through the biggest liars that ever stole a white manʼs galligaskins”.“Thank you, Dr. Hutton”, said Cradock, diverting the contest; “λωποδύτηςis the word you mean. And I fear it applies to me also”.“Perhaps, young man”, cried Rufus Hutton, “you know more Hindustani than I do. Translate—— ”, and he poured out a sentence which I dare not try to write down. “But, my good fellow, you forget it is we who are stealing yours”.“I think”, said Sir Cradock, slowly, and seriously displeased—Good Heavens! to joke about the succession to the Nowelhurst title and lands!—“I think, sir, this can hardly be looked upon as evidence. I always cut short the depositions, sir. As Chairman of the Quarter Sessions, I always cut short the depositions”.“And so you wish to cut short, sir, the deposition of your son”. Rufus laughed at his own bad joke, and expected the others to laugh with him. It made things worse than ever. Sir Cradock was afraid to speak, lest he might say anything unseemlyto a visitor. The young man saw his opportunity, and took advantage of it.“Father, I beg you to let me go. You would not wish me, I am sure, to be here; only you think it my right to be. If you please, I will waive that right; I can wholly trust your decision”.He bowed to his father with cold respect, being hurt at his rapid conviction, to Rufus Hutton with some contempt and a smile at the situation. Then he marched down the long room placidly, and whistled when he was out of it. The next moment he bolted away to his bedroom, and wept there very heavily.“Glorious fellow”! cried Dr. Hutton. “But we donʼt at all appreciate him. Requires a man of mind to do that. And now for Mrs. OʼGaghan”! Leaving Sir Cradock this speech to digest, he arose and rang the bell sharply. He felt himself fully invested now with supreme judicial authority, and he longed to be at the Irishwoman, who had called him a “red gossoon”.CHAPTER XVII.Biddy OʼGaghan was hard at work, boiling down herbs and blessing them, drying and bottling cleverly, scraping, and picking the cloves out. She had turned the still–room of the house into her private laboratory; and she saved all the parish and half of the hundred from “them pisoners, as called theirselves doctors”. Now, she was one of those powerful women—common enough, by–the–by—who can work all the better for talking; and, between her sniffs at the saucepan–lids, and her tests upon the drying–pans, she had learned that something strange was up, and had made fifty guesses about it. Blowing the scum and the pearly beads from a pot of pellitory of the wall (one of her staunch panaceas), she received a command most peremptory to present herself in the justice–room.“Thin was that the way as they said it, Dick? No sinse nor manners but that! An’ every bit ofthe blessed while they knowed it for my bilinʼ–day! Muckstraw, thin, is Bridget OʼGaghan no more count than a pisonin’ doctor? Hould that handle there, Dick. If iver you stirs it the bridth of one on your carroty whiskers from that smut on the firebar, till such time as you sees me agin, Iʼll down with it arl in your crooked back bilinʼ, and your chilthers shall disinherit it”.Leaving Dick rooted in trepidation, for she was now considered a witch, she hurried into her little bedroom; for she had the strongest sense of propriety, and would not “make herself common”. Then she dashed her apron aside, and softened the fire–glow from her nose, and smoothed the creases of her jet–black hair, which curled in bars like crochet–work. This last she did, with some lubricous staple of her own discovery, applying it with the ball of her thumb. “The hairs of me head”, as she always called them, were thick of number and strong of fibre, and went zig–zag on their road to her ears, like a string of jockeyʼs horses shying, or a flight of jack–snipes. Then a final glance at her fungous looking–glass, just to know if she were all right; the glass gave her back a fine, warm–hearted face, still young in its rapid expression, Irish in every line of it, glazed with lies for hatred, and beaming with truth for love. So Biddy gave two or three nods thereat, and knew herself match for fifty cross–examiners, if she could only keep her temper.As she marched up to the table, with her headthrown back, her portly shape made the most of, and the front of her strong arms glistening, then dropped a crisp curtsey to Sir Cradock without deigning to notice his visitor, the little doctorʼs experience told him that he had caught a thorough Tartar. All his solemn preparations were thrown away upon her, though the biggest Testament in the house lay on the table before him; and a most impressive desk was covered with pens, and paper, and sealing–wax.Dr. Hutton would not yet open his mouth, because he wished to begin augustly. Meanwhile, Sir Cradock kept waiting for him, till Biddy could wait no longer. Turning her broad back full upon Rufus, who appreciated the compliment, she made another short scrape to her master, and asked, with an ogle suppressed to a mince—“And what wud your honour be pleased to want with the poor widow, Bridget OʼGaghan, then”?“Bridget, that gentleman, Dr. Hutton, has made an extremely important discovery, affecting most nearly my honour and that of the family. And now I rely upon you, Bridget, as a faithful and valued dependent of ours, to answer, without reservation or attempt at equivocation, all the questions he may put to you”.“Quistions, your honour”? and Biddy looked stupid in the cleverest way imaginable.“Yes, questions, Bridget OʼGaghan. Inquiries, interrogations—ah! that quite explains what I mean”.“Is it axing any harm, thin, any ondacency of a poor lone widder woman, your honour wud be afther”? She took to her brogue as a tower of refuge. Bilingual races are up to the tactics of rats with a double hole.“Sir Cradock Nowell”, said Rufus, from the bottom of his chest, “you, I believe, are a magistrate for this county of Hants, Vice–Lieutenant, Colonel of Yeomanry, the representative of the sovereign. I call upon you now, in all these capacities, to administer the oath to this prevaricating woman”.The penultimate word rather terrified Bridget, for she never had heard it before; but the last word of all reassured her.She turned round suddenly on little Rufus, who had jumped from his chair in excitement, and standing by head and shoulders above him, she opened her great eyes down upon him, like the port–holes of a frigate.“Faix, thin, and I niver seen this young man at all at all. Itʼs between the airms of the cheer he were, and me niver to look so low for him! ’Tis the black measles as heʼve tuk, and Iʼve seen as bad a case brought through with. The luck oʼ the blessed saints in glory! Iʼve been bilin’ up for the same. If itʼs narse him I can to the toorn of it, Iʼm intirely at your sairvice, Sir Craduck. I likes to narse a base little chap, sin’ thereʼs no call to fear for his beauty”.This last was uttered gently, and quite as aprivate reflection; but it told more than all the rest. For ever since Dr. Hutton had married a woman half his age, he had grown exceedingly sensitive as to his personal appearance. By a very great effort he kept silent, but his face was almost black with wrath, as he handed the great book to Sir Cradock. The magistrate presented it very solemnly to Bridget, who took it as patly as if it had been a flat iron. A score of times she had sworn according to what was thought good for her, years ago, in Ireland. At the right moment of dictation, she gave the book a loud smack that required good binding to stand it, and then crossed herself very devoutly, to take the taste away. Of a heretic oath she had little fear, though she would not have told a big lie to her priest. Then she dropped her eyes, and chastened her aspect, as if overcome by the sense of solemn responsibility.“Bridget OʼGeoghegan”, began the worthy doctor, emphasising slowly every syllable of her name, and prepared to write down her replies, “you are now upon your solemn oath, to declare the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And if you fail in this, remember, you will place your precious soul in the power of the evil one”.“Amin to that same, thin. And more power to yer”.“Bridget, do you remember the night when your masterʼs children were born”?“Sure an’ I do, thin. Unless it wur the morninʼ. How wud I help remimber it”?“And do you remember the medical gentleman who was suddenly called in”?“And if I wur ten times on my oath, I donʼt remimber no gintleman. A bit of a red–haired gossoon there was, as wor on the way to be transported”.“Do you remember his name”?“Remimber it? Let me see, thin. It wor hardly worth the throuble of forgittin. Button, or Mutton; no, faix I bʼlieve it wor Rubus Rotten”.“Well, never mind his name—— ”“My faith, and I niver did, thin, nor the little spalpin ayther. But to my heart I was sorry for the dear, good, beautiful lady—glory be to her sowl—along o’ that ignorant, carroty, sprawlinʼ, big–knuckled omadhawn. Small chance for her to git over it”.“Silence, woman, how dare you”? said Sir Cradock, very angrily.“And I thought it was arl the truth as yer honour said I was to tell”. Here Biddy looked hurt and amazed. “Have the little clerk got it all in black and white”? With a sigh for his incapacity, she peered over the desk at his paper.“Now, Mrs. OʼGaghan, no trifling”! Her master spoke sternly and sharply. But Rufus could not speak at all. He was in such a choking passion.“If so be I have said any harm, sir, for the best of us is errowneous, I axes a humble pardon. Iver since I lose my good husband—and a better husband there cudnʼt be, barrin only the bellises, and I wudnʼt deny upon my oath but what I desarved the spout now and thin—— ”“Mrs. OʼGaghan”, said Dr. Hutton, trying very hard to look amiable, “do your best for once, I entreat you, to prove yourself, if there is such a thing, arespectable Irishwoman”.From that moment the tables were turned. Her temper boiled up like a cauldron. It is quite of a piece with a thing that is all pieces—the genuine Irish nature—that, proud as they are of their country, they cannot bear to be told of their citizenship.“Irish, thin, is it? Irish indade! Well, and I knows Iʼm Irish. And if I ainʼt, what do I care who knows I am”?She flung up her head superbly, and great tears ran from her eyes. Rufus Hutton perceived his advantage, and, though not at all a mean fellow, he was smarting far too sharply from the many attacks on his vanity, to forego his sweet revenge.“You remember, then, when the doctor gave you the first–born child, that he made some odd remark, and told you to keep it separate”?“And how can a poor Irishwoman remimber anything at all”?“Come, you know very well that you remember that. Now, can you deny it”?“Is it likely youʼll catch me deny anything as is a lie, then, Irish or not, as you plases”? Her bosom still was heaving with the ground–swell of her injury.“Well, now, for the honour of old Ireland, tell us the truth for once. What were the words he said”?“Save me if evir a bit of me can tell. Mayhap I might call to mind, if I heerʼd them words agin”.“Were they not these—ʼLeft to right over the shoulder, and a strapping boy he is?’”“Bedad thin, and they might have been”.“I want to know what they were”.“How can I tell what they were? I only know what they was”.“Well, and what was that”?“Thim very same words as youʼve said”. She turned towards the door with a sullen air, while he looked at Sir Cradock in triumph. Nevertheless, he still wanted her evidence as to the subsequent mistake. He had been, as I said, to the “Jolly Foresters” and seen the Miss Penny of old; who now, as the mother of nine or ten children, was kindly communicative upon all questions of infancy.“So then, Mrs. OʼGaghan, with the best intentions in the world, you marked the elder child with a rosette, as I saw on the following day”.“Thrue for you as the Gospel. And what more wud you have me do”?“Nothing. Only take a needle and thread to it; instead of crimping it into the cap”.Poor Biddy started from where she stood, and pressed one hand to her heart. “Itʼs the divil himself”, she muttered. “as turns me inside out so. And sure that same is the reason he does be so black red”. Then aloud, with a final rally—“And who say they iver see me take a needle and thread? And if I did, what odds to them”?“No, that was the very thing you omitted to do, until it was too late. But when you sent to Mrs. Toaster for her large butter–scales, what was it you put on each side”?“What was it? No lining at all. Fair play for the both of them, as I hope to be weighed in purgatory”.Sir Cradock was looking on, all this while, with the deepest amazement and interest. He had not received any hint beforehand of this confirmative evidence. “And, pray, what was the reason that you wanted to weigh them at all? You know that it is considered unlucky among nurses to weigh infants”.“Why else wud I weigh them, except to see which wur the heaviest”?“And pray, Bridget, which was the heavier”? asked Sir Cradock, almost smiling.“Mr. Cradock, as is now, your honour. Iʼd swear it on my dying bed. Did you think, then, Iʼd iver wrong him, the innocents as they was”?“And did you weigh them with rosettes on”? Rufus Hutton had not finished yet.“How cud I, and only one got it”?“Oh, then, you had fastened it on again”?“Do you think they was born with ribbons on”?This was poor Biddyʼs last repartee. She lost heart and told everything afterwards. How she had heard that there was some difference in the marks of the infants, though what it was she knew not justly; having, like most Irishwomen, the clearest perception that right and left are only relative terms, and come wrong in the looking–glass, as they do in heraldry. How, when she found the rosette adrift, she had done the very best she could, according to her lights, to work even–handed justice, and up to this very day believed that the heft of the scales was the true one. Then she fell to a–crying bitterly that her darling Crad should be ousted, and then she laughed as heartily that her dear boy Clayton was in for it.With timid glances at Mrs. OʼGaghan, like a boyʼs at his schoolmaster, Jane Cripps came in, and told all she knew, saying “please sir”, at every sentence. She had seen at the time Dr. Huttonʼs sketch, which was made without Biddyʼs knowledge, because she never would have allowed it, on account of the bad luck to follow. And Mrs. Cripps was very clever now everything was known. She had felt all along that things went queerly on the third day after the babes were born. She hadmade up her mind to speak at the time, only Mrs. OʼGaghan was such—excuse her—such a disciplinarian, that—that—and then Lady Nowell died, and everything was at sixes and sevens, and no one cried more violent, let them say what they like about it, than she, Jane Penny as had been.“If Sir Cradock thought further evidence needful, there was Mrs. Bowyer, a most respectable woman, who washed thirty shilling a week, Mrs. Cripps’ first cousin and comate, who had heard at the time all about the drawing, and had not been easy about the scales, and had dreamed of it many times afterwards, as indeed her Aunt Betsy know; and her husband was no man, or he never would have said to her—— ”By this time the shadows came over the room, and the trees outside were rustling, and you could see them against the amber sunset, like a childʼs scrawling on his horn–book. Volunteers throughout the household longed to give their evidence. Their self–respect for a week would be hostile, if it were not accepted. But Sir Cradock kept the door fastened, till Mrs. OʼGaghan slipped out, and put all the wenches down the steps backwards. Mrs. Toaster alone she durst not touch; but Mrs. Toaster will never forgive her, and never believe the case tried on its merits, because she was not summoned to depose to the loan of the scales.Ha, so it is in our country, and among the niggers also. When wealth, position, title, even bastardom from princes, even the notoriety whicha first–rate murderer stabs for—when any of these are in question, how we crowd into the witness–box, how we feel the reek of the court an aureola on our temples. But let any poor fellow, noble unknown, an upright man now on the bend with trouble, let him go in to face his creditors, after the uphill fight of years, let him gaze around with work–worn eyes—which of his friends will be there to back him, who will give him testimony?After all, what matters it except in the score against us? We are bitter with the world, we make a fuss, and feel it fester, we explode in small misanthropy, only because we have not in our heart–sore the true balm of humanity. No longer let our watchword be, “Every man for himself, and God for us all”, but “Every man for God, and so for himself and all”. So may we do away with all illicit process, and return to the primal axiom that “the greater contains the less”.

CHAPTER XIV.Men of high culture and sensitive justice, who have much to do with ill–taught workmen, lie under a terrible disadvantage. They fear to presume upon the mere accident of their own position, they dread to extract more dues from another than they in his place would render, they shrink from saying what may recall the difference betwixt them, they cannot bear to be stiff and dogmatic, yet they know that any light word may be taken in heavy earnest. True sympathy is the only thing to bring master and man together; and sympathy is a subtle vein, direct when nature hits it, but crooked and ungrammatical to the syntax of education. Cradock Nowell often touched it, without knowing how; and hence his popularity among the “lower classes”. Clayton hit upon it only in the softer sex. Bull Garnet knew how to move it deeply, and owed his power to that knowledge, even more than to his energy.Cradock was pondering these things in the pipe of contemplation, when a pair of keen eyes twinkled in at the window, and a shrewd, shrill voice made entry.“Pray let me in, Mr. Cradock Nowell; I want to inquire about the grapes”.“What a wonderful man that is”! said Cradock to himself, as he came from his corner reluctantly to open the French window; “there is nothing he doesnʼt inquire about. Erotetic philosopher! He has only been here some three or four days, and he knows all our polity better than we do! I wish his wife would come; though I believe he is an honest fellow”.Unconscious of any satirical antithesis, he opened the window, and admitted the polypragmonic doctor; and, knowing that homœopathic treatment is the wisest for garrulous subjects, he began upon him at once. Nor omitted a spice of domesticity, which he thought would be sovereign.“Now, Dr. Hutton, it is too bad of you to wander about like a bachelor. How long before we have the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Hutton”?“My dear boy, you know the reason; I hope you know the reason. Your roads are very rough for ladies, especially when in delicate health, and our four–wheel is being mended. So I rode over alone; and what a lovely ride it is! Ah, Clayton—yes, I saw Clayton somewhere. But your father has promised most kindly to send a carriage to–morrowto Geopharmacy Lodge—the name of our little place, sir”.At the thought of his home, the little doctor pulled up both his shirt–collars, and looked round the room disparagingly.“Oh, I am very glad to hear it. Meanwhile, you would like to see our grapes. Let me show you the way to the vinery; though I cannot take you without misgivings. Your gardening fame has frightened us. Our old man, Snip, is quite afraid of your new lights and experience”.“Sensible lad”, muttered Rufus Hutton, who was pleasantly conceited—“uncommonly sensible lad! I am not at all sure that he isnʼt a finer fellow than Clayton. But I must take my opportunity now, while he has his stock off. There is something wrong: I am sure of it”.“Excuse me a moment”, said Cradock; “I am sorry to keep you waiting, but I must just put on my neckerchief, if I can only find it. How very odd! I could have declared I put it on that table”.“Whatʼs that I see on the floor there, by the corner of the bookcase”? Rufus pointed his cane at the tie, which lay where himself had thrown it.“Oh, thank you; I must be getting blind, for I am sure I looked there just now”.While the young man stooped forward, the little doctor, who had posted himself for the purpose,secured a quick glimpse at the back of his neck, where the curling hair fell sideways. That glance increased his surprise, and confirmed his strange suspicions. The surprise and suspicion had broken upon him, as he stood by the farmerʼs wicket, and Cradock sprang up to the bowling crease; now, in his excitement and curiosity, he forgot all scruples. It was strange that he had felt any, for he was not very sensitive; but Cradock, with all his good nature, had a certain unconscious dignity, from which Dr. Hutton retreated.“The grapes I came to inquire about”, said Rufus, with much solemnity, “are not those in the vinery, which I have seen often enough, but those on your neck, Mr. Nowell”.Cradock looked rather amazed, but more at the inquirerʼs manner than at his seeming impertinence.“I really cannot see how the ‘grapes’, as some people call the blue lines on my neck, can interest you, sir, or are important enough to be spoken of”.“Then I do, Cradock Nowell. Do you refuse to let me see them”?“Certainly not; though I should refuse it to almost any one else. Not that I am sensitive about such a trifle. You, as a medical man, and an old friend of my father, are welcome to your autopsy. Is not that what you call it, sir”?Nevertheless, from the tone of his voice, Rufus Hutton knew that he liked it not—for it was afamiliarity, and seemed to the youth a childish one.“Sit down, young man, sit down”, said the doctor, very pompously, and waiving further discussion. “I am not—I mean to say you are taller than when I first—ah, yes, manipulated you”.As the doctor warmed to his subject, he grew more and more professional, and perhaps less gentlemanly, until his good feelings came into play, for his heart, after all, was right. All the terms which he used shall not be repeated, because of their being so medical. Only this, that he said at last, after a long inspection—“Sir, this confirms to a nicety my metrostigmatic theory”.“Dr. Hutton, I know not what you mean, neither do I wish to know”.Cradock put on his neckerchief anyhow, and walked to his chair by the mantelpiece, although no fire was burning. The medical man said nothing, but gravely looked out of the window. Presently the young gentleman felt that he was not acting hospitably.“Excuse me, sir, if I have seemed rude; but you do not know how these things—— I mean, when I think of my mother. Let me ring for some sherry and sandwiches; you have had no lunch”.“Ring for some brandy, my boy; and give me a cheroot. Fine property! Look at the sweep of the land—and to think of losing it all”!Instead of ringing, Cradock went and fetched the cognac himself, and took down a glass from a cupboard.“Two glasses, my dear boy, two”.“No, sir; I never touch it”.“Then take it now, for the first time. Here, let me feel your pulse”.“Once for all, I beg you to tell me what is all this mystery? Do you think I am a child”?“Fill your pipe again, while I light a cigar”.Cradock did as he was told, although with trembling hands. Rufus Hutton went for a wine–glass, filled it with brandy, and pushed it across, then gulped down half a tumblerful; but Cradock did not taste his.“Now, my boy, can you bear some very bad news indeed”?“Anything better than this suspense. I have heard some bad news lately, which has seasoned me for anything”.He referred to Amy Rosedew.“It is this. You are not your fatherʼs heir; you are only the younger son”.“Is that all”?“All! Isnʼt that enough? Good God! What more would you have?—you donʼt deserve brandy”.“My father will be glad, and so will Clayton, and—perhaps one other. But I donʼt mean to say that I am”.“I should rather fancy not. But you take it most philosophically”!Dr. Hutton gazed at the poor young fellow in surprise and admiration, trying vainly to make him out. Then he reached over to Cradockʼs elbow, took his glass of cognac, and swallowed it.“This has upset me, my boy, more than you. How miserable I felt about it! But perhaps you place no faith in the assertion I have made”?“Indeed, it has quite amazed me; and I have had no time to think of it. My head seems spinning round. Please to say no more just for a minute or two, unless you find it uncomfortable”.He leaned back in his chair, and tried to think, but could not.Rufus Hutton said nothing. In spite of all his experience, the scene was very strange to him; and he watched it out with interest, which deepened into strong feeling.“Now, Dr. Hutton”, said the youth, trying to look as he thought he ought, though he could not keep the tears back, “I beg you to think of me no more. Let us have the strictest justice. I have not known you so long—so long as you have known me—but I feel that you would not say what you have said, without the strongest evidence”.“Confound me for a meddlesome fool! My dear boy, no one has heard us. Let us sink the matter entirely. Least said, soonest mended”.“What do you mean? Do you think for a moment that I would be a blackguard”?“Hush!—donʼt get so excited. Why, you look as fierce as Bull Garnet. All I mean is—you know the old saying—ʼQuieta non movere’”.“The motto of fools and dastards. ‘Have it out’, is an Englishmanʼs rule. No sneaking tricks for me, sir. Oh, what a fool I am! I beg your pardon with all my heart; you will make allowances for me. Instead of being rude, I ought to be grateful for kindness which even involves your honour”.And he held out his hand to the doctor.“Crad, my dear boy”, exclaimed Mr. Hutton, with a big tear twinkling in each little eye, “the finest thing I ever did was showing you to the daylight. If I rob you of what has appeared your birthright, curse all memorandum–books, and even my metrostigmatic treatise, which I fully meant to immortalize me”.“And so I hope it may do. I am not so calm as I ought to be. Somehow a fellow canʼt be, when he is taken off the hooks so. I know you will allow for this; I beg you to allow for nothing else, except a gentlemanʼs delicacy. Give me your reasons, or not, as you like. The matter will be for my father”.Cradock looked proud and beautiful. But the depth of his eyes was troubled. A thousandthoughts were moving there, like the springs that feed a lake.“Hah, ho, very hard work”! said Rufus Hutton, puffing; “I vote that we adjourn. I do love the open air so, ever since I took to gardening”.Rufus Hutton hated “sentiment”, but he could not always get rid of it.

Men of high culture and sensitive justice, who have much to do with ill–taught workmen, lie under a terrible disadvantage. They fear to presume upon the mere accident of their own position, they dread to extract more dues from another than they in his place would render, they shrink from saying what may recall the difference betwixt them, they cannot bear to be stiff and dogmatic, yet they know that any light word may be taken in heavy earnest. True sympathy is the only thing to bring master and man together; and sympathy is a subtle vein, direct when nature hits it, but crooked and ungrammatical to the syntax of education. Cradock Nowell often touched it, without knowing how; and hence his popularity among the “lower classes”. Clayton hit upon it only in the softer sex. Bull Garnet knew how to move it deeply, and owed his power to that knowledge, even more than to his energy.

Cradock was pondering these things in the pipe of contemplation, when a pair of keen eyes twinkled in at the window, and a shrewd, shrill voice made entry.

“Pray let me in, Mr. Cradock Nowell; I want to inquire about the grapes”.

“What a wonderful man that is”! said Cradock to himself, as he came from his corner reluctantly to open the French window; “there is nothing he doesnʼt inquire about. Erotetic philosopher! He has only been here some three or four days, and he knows all our polity better than we do! I wish his wife would come; though I believe he is an honest fellow”.

Unconscious of any satirical antithesis, he opened the window, and admitted the polypragmonic doctor; and, knowing that homœopathic treatment is the wisest for garrulous subjects, he began upon him at once. Nor omitted a spice of domesticity, which he thought would be sovereign.

“Now, Dr. Hutton, it is too bad of you to wander about like a bachelor. How long before we have the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Hutton”?

“My dear boy, you know the reason; I hope you know the reason. Your roads are very rough for ladies, especially when in delicate health, and our four–wheel is being mended. So I rode over alone; and what a lovely ride it is! Ah, Clayton—yes, I saw Clayton somewhere. But your father has promised most kindly to send a carriage to–morrowto Geopharmacy Lodge—the name of our little place, sir”.

At the thought of his home, the little doctor pulled up both his shirt–collars, and looked round the room disparagingly.

“Oh, I am very glad to hear it. Meanwhile, you would like to see our grapes. Let me show you the way to the vinery; though I cannot take you without misgivings. Your gardening fame has frightened us. Our old man, Snip, is quite afraid of your new lights and experience”.

“Sensible lad”, muttered Rufus Hutton, who was pleasantly conceited—“uncommonly sensible lad! I am not at all sure that he isnʼt a finer fellow than Clayton. But I must take my opportunity now, while he has his stock off. There is something wrong: I am sure of it”.

“Excuse me a moment”, said Cradock; “I am sorry to keep you waiting, but I must just put on my neckerchief, if I can only find it. How very odd! I could have declared I put it on that table”.

“Whatʼs that I see on the floor there, by the corner of the bookcase”? Rufus pointed his cane at the tie, which lay where himself had thrown it.

“Oh, thank you; I must be getting blind, for I am sure I looked there just now”.

While the young man stooped forward, the little doctor, who had posted himself for the purpose,secured a quick glimpse at the back of his neck, where the curling hair fell sideways. That glance increased his surprise, and confirmed his strange suspicions. The surprise and suspicion had broken upon him, as he stood by the farmerʼs wicket, and Cradock sprang up to the bowling crease; now, in his excitement and curiosity, he forgot all scruples. It was strange that he had felt any, for he was not very sensitive; but Cradock, with all his good nature, had a certain unconscious dignity, from which Dr. Hutton retreated.

“The grapes I came to inquire about”, said Rufus, with much solemnity, “are not those in the vinery, which I have seen often enough, but those on your neck, Mr. Nowell”.

Cradock looked rather amazed, but more at the inquirerʼs manner than at his seeming impertinence.

“I really cannot see how the ‘grapes’, as some people call the blue lines on my neck, can interest you, sir, or are important enough to be spoken of”.

“Then I do, Cradock Nowell. Do you refuse to let me see them”?

“Certainly not; though I should refuse it to almost any one else. Not that I am sensitive about such a trifle. You, as a medical man, and an old friend of my father, are welcome to your autopsy. Is not that what you call it, sir”?

Nevertheless, from the tone of his voice, Rufus Hutton knew that he liked it not—for it was afamiliarity, and seemed to the youth a childish one.

“Sit down, young man, sit down”, said the doctor, very pompously, and waiving further discussion. “I am not—I mean to say you are taller than when I first—ah, yes, manipulated you”.

As the doctor warmed to his subject, he grew more and more professional, and perhaps less gentlemanly, until his good feelings came into play, for his heart, after all, was right. All the terms which he used shall not be repeated, because of their being so medical. Only this, that he said at last, after a long inspection—

“Sir, this confirms to a nicety my metrostigmatic theory”.

“Dr. Hutton, I know not what you mean, neither do I wish to know”.

Cradock put on his neckerchief anyhow, and walked to his chair by the mantelpiece, although no fire was burning. The medical man said nothing, but gravely looked out of the window. Presently the young gentleman felt that he was not acting hospitably.

“Excuse me, sir, if I have seemed rude; but you do not know how these things—— I mean, when I think of my mother. Let me ring for some sherry and sandwiches; you have had no lunch”.

“Ring for some brandy, my boy; and give me a cheroot. Fine property! Look at the sweep of the land—and to think of losing it all”!

Instead of ringing, Cradock went and fetched the cognac himself, and took down a glass from a cupboard.

“Two glasses, my dear boy, two”.

“No, sir; I never touch it”.

“Then take it now, for the first time. Here, let me feel your pulse”.

“Once for all, I beg you to tell me what is all this mystery? Do you think I am a child”?

“Fill your pipe again, while I light a cigar”.

Cradock did as he was told, although with trembling hands. Rufus Hutton went for a wine–glass, filled it with brandy, and pushed it across, then gulped down half a tumblerful; but Cradock did not taste his.

“Now, my boy, can you bear some very bad news indeed”?

“Anything better than this suspense. I have heard some bad news lately, which has seasoned me for anything”.

He referred to Amy Rosedew.

“It is this. You are not your fatherʼs heir; you are only the younger son”.

“Is that all”?

“All! Isnʼt that enough? Good God! What more would you have?—you donʼt deserve brandy”.

“My father will be glad, and so will Clayton, and—perhaps one other. But I donʼt mean to say that I am”.

“I should rather fancy not. But you take it most philosophically”!

Dr. Hutton gazed at the poor young fellow in surprise and admiration, trying vainly to make him out. Then he reached over to Cradockʼs elbow, took his glass of cognac, and swallowed it.

“This has upset me, my boy, more than you. How miserable I felt about it! But perhaps you place no faith in the assertion I have made”?

“Indeed, it has quite amazed me; and I have had no time to think of it. My head seems spinning round. Please to say no more just for a minute or two, unless you find it uncomfortable”.

He leaned back in his chair, and tried to think, but could not.

Rufus Hutton said nothing. In spite of all his experience, the scene was very strange to him; and he watched it out with interest, which deepened into strong feeling.

“Now, Dr. Hutton”, said the youth, trying to look as he thought he ought, though he could not keep the tears back, “I beg you to think of me no more. Let us have the strictest justice. I have not known you so long—so long as you have known me—but I feel that you would not say what you have said, without the strongest evidence”.

“Confound me for a meddlesome fool! My dear boy, no one has heard us. Let us sink the matter entirely. Least said, soonest mended”.

“What do you mean? Do you think for a moment that I would be a blackguard”?

“Hush!—donʼt get so excited. Why, you look as fierce as Bull Garnet. All I mean is—you know the old saying—ʼQuieta non movere’”.

“The motto of fools and dastards. ‘Have it out’, is an Englishmanʼs rule. No sneaking tricks for me, sir. Oh, what a fool I am! I beg your pardon with all my heart; you will make allowances for me. Instead of being rude, I ought to be grateful for kindness which even involves your honour”.

And he held out his hand to the doctor.

“Crad, my dear boy”, exclaimed Mr. Hutton, with a big tear twinkling in each little eye, “the finest thing I ever did was showing you to the daylight. If I rob you of what has appeared your birthright, curse all memorandum–books, and even my metrostigmatic treatise, which I fully meant to immortalize me”.

“And so I hope it may do. I am not so calm as I ought to be. Somehow a fellow canʼt be, when he is taken off the hooks so. I know you will allow for this; I beg you to allow for nothing else, except a gentlemanʼs delicacy. Give me your reasons, or not, as you like. The matter will be for my father”.

Cradock looked proud and beautiful. But the depth of his eyes was troubled. A thousandthoughts were moving there, like the springs that feed a lake.

“Hah, ho, very hard work”! said Rufus Hutton, puffing; “I vote that we adjourn. I do love the open air so, ever since I took to gardening”.

Rufus Hutton hated “sentiment”, but he could not always get rid of it.

CHAPTER XV.On the morning of that same day, our Amy at her fatherʼs side, in the pretty porch of the Rectory, uttered the following wisdom: “Darling Papples, Papelikidion—is there any other diminutivicle half good enough for you, or stupid enough for me?—my own father (thatʼs best of all), you must not ride Coræbus to–day”.“Amy amata, peramata a me, aim of my life, amicula, in the name of sweet sense, why not”?“Because, pa, he has had ten great long carrots, and my best hat full of new oats; and I know he will throw you off”.“Scrupulum injecisti. I shouldnʼt like to come off to–day. And it rained the night before last”. So said the rector, proudly contemplating a pair of new kerseymeres, which Channing the clerk had made upon trial. “Nevertheless, I think that I have read enough on the subject to hold on by his mane, if he does not kick unreasonably. And ifhe gives me time to soothe him—that horse is fond of Greek—and, after all, the ground is soft”.“No, dad, I donʼt think it is prudent. And you wonʼt have me there, you know”.“My own pet, that is too true. And with all your knowledge of riding! Why, my own seems quite theoretical by the side of yours. And yet I have kept my seat under very trying circumstances. You remember the time when Coræbus met the trahea”?“Yes, pa; but he hadnʼt had any oats; and I was there to advise you”.“True, my child, quite true. But I threw my equilibrium just as a hunter does. And I think I could do it again. I bore in mind what Xenophon says—— ”“Pa, here he is! And he does look so fat, I know he will be restive”.“Prepare your Aunt Doxyʼs mind, my dear, not to scold more than she can help, in case of the worst—I mean, if the legs of my trousers want rubbing. How rash of me, to be sure, to have put them on to–day! Prius dementat. I trust sincerely—and old Channing is so proud of them, and he says the cut is so fashionable. Nevertheless, I heard our Clayton, as he went down the gravelwalk, treating, with what he himself would have called ‘colores orationis’, upon Uncle Johnʼs new bags;θύλακοι, I suppose he meant, as opposed toἀναξυρίδες. I was glad that the subject possessed so lively an interest for him; notwithstanding which,I was very glad Mr. Channing did not hear him”.“The impudence! Well, I am astonished. And to see the things he brought back from Oxford—quince–coloured, with a stripe that wide, like one of my fancy gourds. Iʼll be sure to have it out with him. No, I canʼt, though; I forgot”. And Amy looked down with a rosy smile, remembering the delicacy of the subject. “But I am quite sure of one thing, pa: Mr. Cradock would never have done it. Ræbus, donʼt kick up the gravel. Do you suppose we can roll every day? Oh, you are so fat, you darling”!“When the sides are deep”, said the rector, quoting from Xenophon, “and somewhat protuberant at the stomach, the horse is generally more easy to ride. What a comfort, Amy! Stronger, moreover, and more capable of enjoying food”.“He has enjoyed a rare lot this morning. At least I hope you have, you sweetest. Why, pa, I declare you are whistling”!“It also behoves a horseman to know that it is a time–honoured precept to soothe the steed by whistling, and rouse him by a sharp sound made between the tongue and the palate”.“Oh, father, donʼt do that. Promise me now, dear, wonʼt you”?“I will promise you, my child, because I donʼt know how to do it. I tried very hard last Wednesday, and only produced a guttural. But Ithink I shall understand it, after six or seven visiting days. At least, if the air is sharp”.“No, pa, I hope you wonʼt. It would be so reckless of you; and I know you will get a sore throat”.“Sweet of my world, cor cordium, you have wrapped me with three involucres tighter than any hazel–nut. They will all go into my pocket the moment I am round the corner”.“No, daddy, you wonʼt be so cruel. And after the rime this morning! Ræbus will tell if you do. Wonʼt you now, my pretty”?Coræbus was a handsome pony, but not a handsome doer. He could go at a rare pace when he liked, but he did not often like it. His wind was short, and so was his temper, and he looked at things unpleasantly. Perhaps he had been disappointed in love in the tenderness of his youth. Nevertheless he had many good points, and next to himself loved Amy. He would roll his black eyes, put his nose to her lips, and almost leave oats to look at her. His colour varied sensitively according to the season. In the height of summer, a dappled bay; towards the autumnal equinox, a tendency to nuttiness; then a husky bristle of deepest brown flaked with hairs of ginger; after the clips a fine mouse–colour, with a spirited sense of nakedness, fierce whiskers, and a love of buck jumps. Then ere the blessed Christmas–tide, nature began to blanket him with a nap the colour of black frost; and so through the grizzle ofspring he came round to his proper bay once more. Amy declared she could tell every month by the special hue of Coræbus; but, albeit she was the most truthful of girls, her heart was many degrees too warm for her lips to be always at dew–point.Both in the stable and out of it, that pony had a bluff way with his heels, which none but himself thought humorous. He never meant any harm, however—it was only his mode of expressing himself; and he liked to make a point when he felt his new shoes tingling. But as for kicking his Amy, he was not quite so low as that. He would not even jump about, when she was on his back, more than was just the proper thing to display her skill and figure. “Oh, you sad Coræby”, always brought him to sadness; and he expected a pat from her little gloved hand, and cocked his tail with dignity the moment he received it. Nevertheless, for her father, the rector of the parish, he entertained, when the oats were plentiful, nonconformist sentiments, verging almost upon scepticism. He liked him indeed, as the whole world must; he even admired his learning, and turned up his eyes at the Greek; but he was not impressed, as he should have been, by the sacerdotal office. Fatal defect of all, he knew that the rector could not ride. John Rosedew was a reasoning man, and uncommonly strong in the legs, but a great deal too philosophical to fit himself over a horse well. He had written a treatise upon the PelethronianLapiths (which he could never be brought to read before a learned society), he knew all about the Olympics and Pythics, and Xenophon gave him a text–book; but, for all that, he never put his feet the right way into the stirrups.“Look at him now”, said John, as the boy led the pony up and down, while Amy was knotting the mufflers so that they never might come undone again; “how beautifully Xenophon describes him! ‘When the horse is excited to assume that artificial air which he adopts when he is proud, he then delights in riding, becomes magnificent, terrific, and attracts attention!’ And again, ‘persons beholding such a horse pronounce him generous, free in his motions, fit for military exercise, high–mettled, haughty, and both pleasant and terrible to look on’. Pleasant, I suppose, for other people, and terrible for the rider. But why our author insists so much upon the horse being taught to ‘rear gracefully’, I am not horseman enough as yet to understand. It has always appeared to me that Coræbus rears too much already. And then the direction—ʼbut if after riding, and copious perspiration, and when he has reared gracefully, he be relieved immediately both of the rider and reins, there is little doubt that he will spontaneously advance to rear when necessary’. What does that mean, I ask you? I never find it necessary, except, indeed, when the little girls jump up and pull my coat–tails, in their inquisition for apples, and then I am always afraid that they may suffersome detriment. But let us not overtask his patience; here he comes again. Jem, my boy, lead him up to the chair”.“Any jam in your pocket, father”?“No, my child, not any. Your excellent Aunt Eudoxia has it all under lock and key. Now I will mount according to Xenophon, though I do not find that he anywhere prescribes a Windsor chair. ‘When he has well prepared himself for the ascent, let him support his body with his left hand, and stretching forth his right hand let him leap on horseback, and when he mounts thus he will not present an uncomely spectacle to those behind. There, I am up, most accurately; excellent horse, and great writer! And now for the next direction: ‘We do not approve of the same bearing a man has in a carriage, but that an upright posture be observed, with the legs apart’”.“How could they be otherwise, pa, when the horse is between them”?“Your criticisms are rash, my child. Jem, how dare you laugh, sir? I will buy a pair of spurs, I declare, the next time I go to Ringwood. Good–bye, darling; Aunt Doxy will take you up to the park, when the sun comes out, to see all the wonderful doings. I shall be home in time to dress for the dinner at the Hall”.Sweet Amy kissed her hand, and curtseyed—as she loved to do to her father; and, after two or three wayward sallies (repressed by Jem with thegardening broom), Coræbus pricked his little ears, and shook himself into a fair jog–trot. So with his elbows well stuck out, and shaking merrily to and fro, his right hand ready to grasp the pommel in case of consternation, and one leg projected beyond the other, after the manner of a fowlʼs side–bone, away rode John Rosedew in excellent spirits, to begin his Wednesday parochial tour.Being duly victualled, and thoroughly found, for a voyage of long duration and considerable hazard, the good ship “John Rosedew” set sail every Wednesday for commerce with the neighbourhood. This expedition was partly social, partly ministerial, in a great measure eleemosynary, and entirely loving and amicable. There was no bombardment of dissenters, no firing of red–hot shot at Papists, no up with the helm and run him down, if any man launched on the mare magnum, or any frail vessel missed stays. And yet there was no compromise, no grand circle sailing, no luffing to a trade–wind; straight was the course, and the chart most clear, and the good ship bound, with favour of God, for a haven beyond the horizon. Barnacles and vile teredoes, algæ and desmidious trailers:—I doubt if there be more sins in our hearts to stop us from loving each other than parasites and leeching weeds to clog a stout shipʼs bottom. Nevertheless she bears them on, beautifies and cleanses them, until they come to temperate waters, where the harm has failedthem. So a good man carries with him those who carp and fasten on him; content to take their little stings, if the utterance purify them.The parish of Nowelhurst straggles away far into the depths of the forest. To the southward indeed it has moorland and heather, with ridges, and spinneys, and views of the sea, and fir–trees naked and worn to the deal by the chafing of the salt winds. But all away to the west, north, and east, the dark woods hold dominion, and you seem to step from the parish churchyard into the grave of ages. The village and the village warren, the chase, and the Hall above them, are scooped from out the forest shadow, in the shape of a hunting boot. Lay the boot on its side with the heel to the east, and the top towards the north, and we get pretty near the topography. The village scattered along the warren forms the foot and instep, the chase descending at right angles is the leg and ankle, the top will serve to represent the house with its lawns and gardens, the back seam may run as the little river which flows under Nowelhurst bridge. The shank of the spur is the bridge and road, the rowel the church and rectory. Away to the west beyond the toe, some quarter of a mile on the Ringwood–road, stands the smithy kept by the well–known Roger Sweetland, who can out–swear any man in the parish, and fears no one except Bull Garnet. Our sketchy boot will leave unshown the whereabouts of the Garnet cottage, unless we suppose the huntsman to insert just histoe in the stirrup. Then the top of the iron rung will mark the house of the steward, a furlong or so north–west of the village, with its back to the lane which leads from the smithy to the Hall. And this lane is the short cut from Nowelhurst Hall to Ringwood. It saves three–quarters of a mile, and risks a little more than three–quarters of the neck. Large and important as the house is, it has no high road to Ringwood, and gets away with some difficulty even towards Lyndhurst or Lymington. Bull Garnet was always down upon the barbarity of the approaches, but Sir Cradock never felt sore on the subject, save perhaps for a week at Christmas–tide. He had never been given to broad indiscriminate hospitality, but loved his books and his easy–chair, and his friend of ancient standing.The sun came out and touched the trees with every kind of gilding, as John Rosedew having done the village, and learned every gammerʼs alloverishness, and every gafferʼs rheumatics, drew the snaffle upon Coræbus longside of Job Smithʼs pigsty, and plunged southward into the country. He saw how every tree was leaning forth its green with yellowness; even proud of the novelty, like a child who has lost his grandmother. And though he could not see very far, he observed a little thing which he had never noticed before. It was that while the other trees took their autumn evenly, the elm was brushed with a flaw of gold while the rest of the tree was verdure. A single branch would stand forth from the others, mellow againsttheir freshness, like a harvest–sheaf set up perhaps on the foreground of a grass–plot. The rector thought immediately of the golden spray of Æneas, and how the Brazilian manga glistens in the tropic moonlight. Then soothing his pony with novel sounds, emulous of equestrianism, he struck into a moorland track leading to distant cottages. Thence he would bear to the eastward, arrive at his hostel by one oʼclock, visit the woodmen, and home through the forest, with the evening shadows falling.

On the morning of that same day, our Amy at her fatherʼs side, in the pretty porch of the Rectory, uttered the following wisdom: “Darling Papples, Papelikidion—is there any other diminutivicle half good enough for you, or stupid enough for me?—my own father (thatʼs best of all), you must not ride Coræbus to–day”.

“Amy amata, peramata a me, aim of my life, amicula, in the name of sweet sense, why not”?

“Because, pa, he has had ten great long carrots, and my best hat full of new oats; and I know he will throw you off”.

“Scrupulum injecisti. I shouldnʼt like to come off to–day. And it rained the night before last”. So said the rector, proudly contemplating a pair of new kerseymeres, which Channing the clerk had made upon trial. “Nevertheless, I think that I have read enough on the subject to hold on by his mane, if he does not kick unreasonably. And ifhe gives me time to soothe him—that horse is fond of Greek—and, after all, the ground is soft”.

“No, dad, I donʼt think it is prudent. And you wonʼt have me there, you know”.

“My own pet, that is too true. And with all your knowledge of riding! Why, my own seems quite theoretical by the side of yours. And yet I have kept my seat under very trying circumstances. You remember the time when Coræbus met the trahea”?

“Yes, pa; but he hadnʼt had any oats; and I was there to advise you”.

“True, my child, quite true. But I threw my equilibrium just as a hunter does. And I think I could do it again. I bore in mind what Xenophon says—— ”

“Pa, here he is! And he does look so fat, I know he will be restive”.

“Prepare your Aunt Doxyʼs mind, my dear, not to scold more than she can help, in case of the worst—I mean, if the legs of my trousers want rubbing. How rash of me, to be sure, to have put them on to–day! Prius dementat. I trust sincerely—and old Channing is so proud of them, and he says the cut is so fashionable. Nevertheless, I heard our Clayton, as he went down the gravelwalk, treating, with what he himself would have called ‘colores orationis’, upon Uncle Johnʼs new bags;θύλακοι, I suppose he meant, as opposed toἀναξυρίδες. I was glad that the subject possessed so lively an interest for him; notwithstanding which,I was very glad Mr. Channing did not hear him”.

“The impudence! Well, I am astonished. And to see the things he brought back from Oxford—quince–coloured, with a stripe that wide, like one of my fancy gourds. Iʼll be sure to have it out with him. No, I canʼt, though; I forgot”. And Amy looked down with a rosy smile, remembering the delicacy of the subject. “But I am quite sure of one thing, pa: Mr. Cradock would never have done it. Ræbus, donʼt kick up the gravel. Do you suppose we can roll every day? Oh, you are so fat, you darling”!

“When the sides are deep”, said the rector, quoting from Xenophon, “and somewhat protuberant at the stomach, the horse is generally more easy to ride. What a comfort, Amy! Stronger, moreover, and more capable of enjoying food”.

“He has enjoyed a rare lot this morning. At least I hope you have, you sweetest. Why, pa, I declare you are whistling”!

“It also behoves a horseman to know that it is a time–honoured precept to soothe the steed by whistling, and rouse him by a sharp sound made between the tongue and the palate”.

“Oh, father, donʼt do that. Promise me now, dear, wonʼt you”?

“I will promise you, my child, because I donʼt know how to do it. I tried very hard last Wednesday, and only produced a guttural. But Ithink I shall understand it, after six or seven visiting days. At least, if the air is sharp”.

“No, pa, I hope you wonʼt. It would be so reckless of you; and I know you will get a sore throat”.

“Sweet of my world, cor cordium, you have wrapped me with three involucres tighter than any hazel–nut. They will all go into my pocket the moment I am round the corner”.

“No, daddy, you wonʼt be so cruel. And after the rime this morning! Ræbus will tell if you do. Wonʼt you now, my pretty”?

Coræbus was a handsome pony, but not a handsome doer. He could go at a rare pace when he liked, but he did not often like it. His wind was short, and so was his temper, and he looked at things unpleasantly. Perhaps he had been disappointed in love in the tenderness of his youth. Nevertheless he had many good points, and next to himself loved Amy. He would roll his black eyes, put his nose to her lips, and almost leave oats to look at her. His colour varied sensitively according to the season. In the height of summer, a dappled bay; towards the autumnal equinox, a tendency to nuttiness; then a husky bristle of deepest brown flaked with hairs of ginger; after the clips a fine mouse–colour, with a spirited sense of nakedness, fierce whiskers, and a love of buck jumps. Then ere the blessed Christmas–tide, nature began to blanket him with a nap the colour of black frost; and so through the grizzle ofspring he came round to his proper bay once more. Amy declared she could tell every month by the special hue of Coræbus; but, albeit she was the most truthful of girls, her heart was many degrees too warm for her lips to be always at dew–point.

Both in the stable and out of it, that pony had a bluff way with his heels, which none but himself thought humorous. He never meant any harm, however—it was only his mode of expressing himself; and he liked to make a point when he felt his new shoes tingling. But as for kicking his Amy, he was not quite so low as that. He would not even jump about, when she was on his back, more than was just the proper thing to display her skill and figure. “Oh, you sad Coræby”, always brought him to sadness; and he expected a pat from her little gloved hand, and cocked his tail with dignity the moment he received it. Nevertheless, for her father, the rector of the parish, he entertained, when the oats were plentiful, nonconformist sentiments, verging almost upon scepticism. He liked him indeed, as the whole world must; he even admired his learning, and turned up his eyes at the Greek; but he was not impressed, as he should have been, by the sacerdotal office. Fatal defect of all, he knew that the rector could not ride. John Rosedew was a reasoning man, and uncommonly strong in the legs, but a great deal too philosophical to fit himself over a horse well. He had written a treatise upon the PelethronianLapiths (which he could never be brought to read before a learned society), he knew all about the Olympics and Pythics, and Xenophon gave him a text–book; but, for all that, he never put his feet the right way into the stirrups.

“Look at him now”, said John, as the boy led the pony up and down, while Amy was knotting the mufflers so that they never might come undone again; “how beautifully Xenophon describes him! ‘When the horse is excited to assume that artificial air which he adopts when he is proud, he then delights in riding, becomes magnificent, terrific, and attracts attention!’ And again, ‘persons beholding such a horse pronounce him generous, free in his motions, fit for military exercise, high–mettled, haughty, and both pleasant and terrible to look on’. Pleasant, I suppose, for other people, and terrible for the rider. But why our author insists so much upon the horse being taught to ‘rear gracefully’, I am not horseman enough as yet to understand. It has always appeared to me that Coræbus rears too much already. And then the direction—ʼbut if after riding, and copious perspiration, and when he has reared gracefully, he be relieved immediately both of the rider and reins, there is little doubt that he will spontaneously advance to rear when necessary’. What does that mean, I ask you? I never find it necessary, except, indeed, when the little girls jump up and pull my coat–tails, in their inquisition for apples, and then I am always afraid that they may suffersome detriment. But let us not overtask his patience; here he comes again. Jem, my boy, lead him up to the chair”.

“Any jam in your pocket, father”?

“No, my child, not any. Your excellent Aunt Eudoxia has it all under lock and key. Now I will mount according to Xenophon, though I do not find that he anywhere prescribes a Windsor chair. ‘When he has well prepared himself for the ascent, let him support his body with his left hand, and stretching forth his right hand let him leap on horseback, and when he mounts thus he will not present an uncomely spectacle to those behind. There, I am up, most accurately; excellent horse, and great writer! And now for the next direction: ‘We do not approve of the same bearing a man has in a carriage, but that an upright posture be observed, with the legs apart’”.

“How could they be otherwise, pa, when the horse is between them”?

“Your criticisms are rash, my child. Jem, how dare you laugh, sir? I will buy a pair of spurs, I declare, the next time I go to Ringwood. Good–bye, darling; Aunt Doxy will take you up to the park, when the sun comes out, to see all the wonderful doings. I shall be home in time to dress for the dinner at the Hall”.

Sweet Amy kissed her hand, and curtseyed—as she loved to do to her father; and, after two or three wayward sallies (repressed by Jem with thegardening broom), Coræbus pricked his little ears, and shook himself into a fair jog–trot. So with his elbows well stuck out, and shaking merrily to and fro, his right hand ready to grasp the pommel in case of consternation, and one leg projected beyond the other, after the manner of a fowlʼs side–bone, away rode John Rosedew in excellent spirits, to begin his Wednesday parochial tour.

Being duly victualled, and thoroughly found, for a voyage of long duration and considerable hazard, the good ship “John Rosedew” set sail every Wednesday for commerce with the neighbourhood. This expedition was partly social, partly ministerial, in a great measure eleemosynary, and entirely loving and amicable. There was no bombardment of dissenters, no firing of red–hot shot at Papists, no up with the helm and run him down, if any man launched on the mare magnum, or any frail vessel missed stays. And yet there was no compromise, no grand circle sailing, no luffing to a trade–wind; straight was the course, and the chart most clear, and the good ship bound, with favour of God, for a haven beyond the horizon. Barnacles and vile teredoes, algæ and desmidious trailers:—I doubt if there be more sins in our hearts to stop us from loving each other than parasites and leeching weeds to clog a stout shipʼs bottom. Nevertheless she bears them on, beautifies and cleanses them, until they come to temperate waters, where the harm has failedthem. So a good man carries with him those who carp and fasten on him; content to take their little stings, if the utterance purify them.

The parish of Nowelhurst straggles away far into the depths of the forest. To the southward indeed it has moorland and heather, with ridges, and spinneys, and views of the sea, and fir–trees naked and worn to the deal by the chafing of the salt winds. But all away to the west, north, and east, the dark woods hold dominion, and you seem to step from the parish churchyard into the grave of ages. The village and the village warren, the chase, and the Hall above them, are scooped from out the forest shadow, in the shape of a hunting boot. Lay the boot on its side with the heel to the east, and the top towards the north, and we get pretty near the topography. The village scattered along the warren forms the foot and instep, the chase descending at right angles is the leg and ankle, the top will serve to represent the house with its lawns and gardens, the back seam may run as the little river which flows under Nowelhurst bridge. The shank of the spur is the bridge and road, the rowel the church and rectory. Away to the west beyond the toe, some quarter of a mile on the Ringwood–road, stands the smithy kept by the well–known Roger Sweetland, who can out–swear any man in the parish, and fears no one except Bull Garnet. Our sketchy boot will leave unshown the whereabouts of the Garnet cottage, unless we suppose the huntsman to insert just histoe in the stirrup. Then the top of the iron rung will mark the house of the steward, a furlong or so north–west of the village, with its back to the lane which leads from the smithy to the Hall. And this lane is the short cut from Nowelhurst Hall to Ringwood. It saves three–quarters of a mile, and risks a little more than three–quarters of the neck. Large and important as the house is, it has no high road to Ringwood, and gets away with some difficulty even towards Lyndhurst or Lymington. Bull Garnet was always down upon the barbarity of the approaches, but Sir Cradock never felt sore on the subject, save perhaps for a week at Christmas–tide. He had never been given to broad indiscriminate hospitality, but loved his books and his easy–chair, and his friend of ancient standing.

The sun came out and touched the trees with every kind of gilding, as John Rosedew having done the village, and learned every gammerʼs alloverishness, and every gafferʼs rheumatics, drew the snaffle upon Coræbus longside of Job Smithʼs pigsty, and plunged southward into the country. He saw how every tree was leaning forth its green with yellowness; even proud of the novelty, like a child who has lost his grandmother. And though he could not see very far, he observed a little thing which he had never noticed before. It was that while the other trees took their autumn evenly, the elm was brushed with a flaw of gold while the rest of the tree was verdure. A single branch would stand forth from the others, mellow againsttheir freshness, like a harvest–sheaf set up perhaps on the foreground of a grass–plot. The rector thought immediately of the golden spray of Æneas, and how the Brazilian manga glistens in the tropic moonlight. Then soothing his pony with novel sounds, emulous of equestrianism, he struck into a moorland track leading to distant cottages. Thence he would bear to the eastward, arrive at his hostel by one oʼclock, visit the woodmen, and home through the forest, with the evening shadows falling.

CHAPTER XVI.Beside the embowered stream that forms the eastern verge of the chase, young Cradock Nowell sat and gazed, every now and then, into the water. Through a break in the trees beyond it, he could see one chimney–top and a streak of the thatch of the Rectory. In vain he hoped that Dr. Hutton would leave him to himself; for he did not wish to go into the proofs, but to meditate on the consequences. Some bitterness, no doubt, there was in the corner of his heart, when he thought of all that Clayton now had to offer Amy Rosedew. He had lately been told, as a mighty secret, something which grieved and angered him; and the more, that he must not speak of it, as his straightforward nature urged him. The secret was that innocent Amy met his brother Clayton, more than once, in the dusk of the forest, and met him by appointment. It grieved poor Cradock, because he loved Amy with all his unchangeable heart; itangered him, because he thought it very mean of Clayton to take advantage of one so young and ignorant of the world. But never until the present moment, as he looked at the homely thatch in the distance, and the thin smoke curling over it, had it occurred to his honest mind, that his brother might not be like himself—that Clayton might mean ill by the maiden.And now for the moment it seemed more likely, as he glanced back at the lordly house, commanding the country for miles around, and all that country its fief and its thrall, and now the whole destined for Clayton. He thought of the meanness about the Ireland, and two or three other little things, proofs of a little nature. Then he gazed at the Rectory thatch again, and the smoke from the kitchen chimney, and seemed to see pure playful Amy making something nice for her father.“Good God! I would shoot him if he did; or strike him dead into this water”.In the hot haste of youth he had spoken aloud, with his fist gathered up, and his eyes flashing fire. Rufus Hutton saw and heard him, and thought of it many times after that day.“Oh, you are thinking of Caldo, because he snapped at me. There are no signs of hydrophobia. You must not think of shooting him”.“I was not thinking of Caldo. I hope I did not mean it. God knows, I am very wicked”.“So we are all, my boy. I should like to see afellow that wasnʼt. Iʼd pay fifty pounds for his body, and dissect him into an angel”.Cradock Nowell smiled a little at such a reward for excellence, and then renewed his gaze of dreary bewilderment at the water.“Now let me show you my tracings, Cradock. Three times I have pulled them out, and you wonʼt condescend to glance at them. You have made up your mind to abdicate upon myipse dixi. Now look at the bend sinister, that is yours; the bend dexter is for the elder brother”.“Dr. Hutton, it may be, and is, I believe, false shame on my part; but I wish to hear nothing about it. Perhaps, if my mother were living, I might not have been so particular. But giving, as she did, her life for mine, I cannot regard it medically. The question is now for my father. I will not enter into it”.“Oh the subjectiveness of the age”! said Rufus Hutton, rising, then walking to and fro on the bank, as he held discourse with himself; “here is a youth who ought to be proud, although at the cost of his inheritance, of illustrating, in the most remarkable manner, indeed I may say of originating, my metrostigmatic theory. He carries upon the cervical column a clear impression of grapes, and they say that before the show at Romsey the gardener was very cross indeed about his choice Black Hamburgs. His brother carries the identical impress, only with the direction inverted—dexter in fact, and dexter was themark of the elder son. This I can prove by the tracing made at the time, not with any view to future identification, but from the interest I felt, at an early stage of my experience, in a question then under controversy. If I prove this, what happens? Why, that he loses everything—the importance, the house, the lands, the title; and becomes the laughing–stock of the county as the sham Sir Cradock. What ought he to do at once, then? Why, perhaps to toss me into that hole, where I should never get out again. By Gad, I am rash to trust myself with him, and no other soul in the secret”! Here Dr. Hutton shuddered to think how little water it would take to drown him, and the river so dark and so taciturn! “At any rate, he ought to fall upon me with forceps, and probe, and scalpel, and tear my evidence to atoms. For, after all, what is it, without corroboration? But instead of that, he only says, ‘Dr. Hutton, no more of this, if you please, no more of this! The question is now for my father’. And he must know well enough to which side his father will lean in the inquiry. Confound the boy! If he had only coaxed me with those great eyes, I would have kept it all snug till Doomsday. Oh what will my Rosa say to me? She has always loved this boy, and admired him so immensely”.Perhaps it was his pretty young wifeʼs high approval of Cradock which first had made the testy Rufus a partisan of Clayton. The cause of hishaving settled at “Geopharmacy Lodge” was, that upon his return from India he fell in love with a Hampshire maiden, whom he met “above bar” at Southampton. How he contrived to get introduced to her, he alone can tell; but he was a most persevering fellow, and little hampered with diffidence. She proved to be the eldest daughter of Sir Cradockʼs largest tenant, a man of good standing and education, who lived near Fordingbridge. As Rufus had brought home tidy pickings from his appointment in India, the only thing he had to do was to secure the ladyʼs heart. And this he was not long about, for many ladies like high colour even more than hairiness. First she laughed at his dancing ways, incessant mobility, and sharp eyes; but very soon she began to like him, and now she thought him a wonderful man. This opinion (with proper change of gender) was heartily reciprocated, and the result was that a happier couple never yet made fools of themselves, in the judgment of the world; never yet enjoyed themselves, in the sterling wisdom of home. They suited each other admirably in their very differences; they laughed at each other and themselves, and any one else who laughed at them.“Well, I shall be off”, said Dr. Hutton at last, in feigned disgust; “you will stare at the water all day, Mr. Cradock, and take no notice of me”.“I beg your pardon, I forgot myself; I did not mean to be rude, I assure you”.“I know you did not. I know you would neverbe rude to any one. Good–bye, I have business on hand”.“You will be back, Dr. Hutton, when my father returns from his ride? It is very foolish of me, but I cannot bear this suspense”.“Trust me. I will see to it. But he will not be back, they tell me, till nearly four oʼclock”.“Oh, what a time to wait! Donʼt send for me if you can help it. But, if he wants me, I will come”.“Good–bye, my lad. Keep your pecker up. There are hundreds of men in the world with harder lines than yours”.“I should rather think so. I only wish there were not”.Cradock attempted a lively smile, and executed a pleasant one, as Rufus Hutton shook his hand, and set off upon his business. And his business was to ride at once as far as the “Jolly Foresters”, that lonely inn on the Beaulieu–road, at the eastern end of the parish, whereat John Rosedew baited Coræbus at the turn of the pastoral tour. The little doctor knew well enough, though he seldom passed that way, how the smart Miss Penny of former days, Mrs. OʼGaghanʼs assistant, was now the important Mrs. George Cripps, hostess of the “Jolly Foresters”, where the four roads met.Meanwhile, the scaffolds went on merrily under Mr. Garnetʼs care, and so did the awnings, marquees, &c., and the terraces for the ladies. The lamps in the old oak being fixed, the boughs weremanned, like a frigateʼs yards, with dexterous fellows hoisting flags, devices, and transparencies, all prepared to express in fire the mighty name of Cradock. All the men must finish that night, lest any one lose his legitimate chance of being ancestrally drunk on the morrow. Cradock Nowell, wandering about, could not bear to go near them. Those two hours seemed longer to him than any year of his previous life. He went and told Caldo all about it; and that helped him on a little.Caldo was a noble setter, pure of breed, and high of soul, and heavily feathered on legs and tail. His colour was such a lily white, that you grieved for him on a wet fallow; and the bright red spots he was endowed with were like the cheeks of Helen. Delicate carmine, enriched with scarlet, mapped his back with islands; and the pink of his cheeks, where the whiskers grew, made all the young ladies kiss him. His nostrils were black as a double–lined tunnel leading into a pencil–mine; and his gums were starred with violet, and his teeth as white as new mushrooms. In all the county of Hants there was no dog to compare with him; for he came of a glorious strain, made perfect at Kingston, in Berkshire. Lift but a finger, and down he went, in the height of his hottest excitement; wave the finger, and off he dashed, his great eyes looking back for repression. For style of ranging, all dogs were rats to him, anywhere in the New Forest; so freely he went, so buoyant, so careful, and yet all the while so hilarious. Only onefault he had, and I never knew dog without one; he was jealous to the backbone.Cradock was dreadfully proud of him. Anything else he had in the world he would have given to Clayton, but he could not quite give Caldo; even though Clayton had begged, instead of backing his Wena against him. Wena was a very nice creature, anxious to please, and elegant; but of a different order entirely from the high–minded Caldo. Dogs differ as widely as we do. Who shall blame either of us?Cradock now leaned over Caldo, with the hot tears in his eyes, and gently titillating the sensitive part of his ears, and looking straight into his heart, begged to inform him of the trouble they were both involved in. “Have they taken the shooting from us”? was Caldoʼs first inquiry; and his eyes felt rather sore in his head that he should have to ask the question. “No, my boy, they havenʼt. But we must not go shooting any more, until the whole matter is settled”. “I hate putting off things till to–morrow”, Caldo replied, impatiently; “the cock–pheasants come almost up to my kennel. What the deuce is to come of it”? “Caldo, please to be frigido. You shall come to my room by–and–by. I shall be able then to smoke a pipe, and we will talk about it together. You know that I have never cared about the title and all that stuff”.“I know that well enough”, said Caldo; “nevertheless, I do. It gives me a status as a dog, which I thoroughly appreciate. Am I to come downfrom goodly paunches to liver and lights and horses’ heads and hounds’ food? I donʼt think I could stand it. But I would live on a crust a day, if you would only come and live with me”. And he nuzzled up to his master, in a way that made his tears come.Cradock was sent for suddenly. Old Hogstaff trotted across the yard (wherein he seldom ventured) to say that Sir Cradock Nowell wished to see his son. Cradock following hastily, with all his heart in his mouth, wondered at the penny–wort, the wall–rue, and the snap–dragons, which he had never seen before. Hogstaff tottered along before him, picking uneasily over the stones, bobbing his chin, and muttering.Sir Cradock sat in the long heavy room known as the “justice–hall”, where he and his brother magistrates held oyer of many a culprit. The great oak table was dabbed with ink, and the grey walls with mop–shaped blotches, where sullen prisoners had thrown their heads back, and refused to answer. At the lower end was Rufus Hutton, jerky, dogmatical, keenly important; while the old man sat at the head of the table, with his back to the pointed window, and looked (perhaps from local usage) more like a magistrate than a father. Straight up the long room Cradock walked, as calmly as if he were going to see where his quoit was stuck; then he made salutation to his father, as his custom was, for many bygone fashions were retained in the ancient family. Sir Cradock wasproud of his sonʼs self–command and dignified manly carriage, and if Dr. Hutton had not been there, he would have arisen to comfort him. As it was, he only said, with a faint and doubtful smile—“So, sir, I find that, after all, you are but an impostor”.Young Cradock was a proud man—man from that day forth, I shall call him “lad” no longer—ay, a prouder man, pile upon pile, than the father who once had spoiled him. But his pride was of the right sort—self–respect, not self–esteem. So he did not appeal, by word or look, to the sympathy lurking, and no doubt working, in the pith of his fatherʼs heart, but answered calmly and coldly, though his soul was hot with sorrow—“Sir, I believe it is so”. His eyes were on his fatherʼs. He longed to look him down, and felt the power to do it; but dropped them as should a good son. Although the white–haired man was glad at the promotion of his favourite, his heart was yearning towards the child more worthy to succeed him. But his notions of filial duty—which himself had been called upon to practise chiefly in memory, having seen very little of his father, and having lost him early—were of the stern, cold order now, the buckle and buckram style; though much relaxed at intervals in Master Claytonʼs favour. Finding no compunction, no humility in his sonʼs look, for a mistake which was wholly of others, and receiving no expression of grief at the loss ofheirship, Sir Cradock hardened back again into his proper dignity, and resumed his air of inquiry. “I wish John Rosedew were here”, he thought, and then it repented him of the wish, for he knew how stubborn the parson was, and how he would have Craddy the foremost.Rufus Hutton, all this time, was in the agony of holding his tongue. He tried to think of his Rosa, and so to abstract himself airily from the present scene. He had ridden over to see her yesterday, and now dwelt upon their doings. Rosa was to come to–morrow, and he would go to fetch his wife in a carriage that would amaze her. Then he met Cradock Nowellʼs eyes, and wondered what he was thinking of.“Now, Sir Cradock Nowell, this wonʼt do at all. How long are we to play fast and loose with a finer fellow than either of us”? Oh, that hot–headed Rufus, what mischief he did then! “Although I have not the honour, sir, of being in the commission of peace for this little county, I have taken magisterial duty in a district rather larger than Ireland thrown into Great Britain. And I can grow, per acre, thrice the amount of corn that any of your farmers can”. His colour deepened with self–assertion, like the central quills of a dahlia.“We must have you to teach us, Dr. Hutton. It is a thing to be thought about. But at present you are kindly interested in—in giving your evidence”.Even then, if Dr. Hutton, with all his practisedacumen, had mixed one grain of the knowledge of men, he might have done what he liked with Sir Cradock, and re–established the dynasty; unless, indeed, young Cradock were bent upon going through with everything. But the only mode Rufus Hutton knew of meeting the world was antagonism.“Yes, sir, you may think nothing of it. But I have hunted a thing for three hundred leagues, and got at it through the biggest liars that ever stole a white manʼs galligaskins”.“Thank you, Dr. Hutton”, said Cradock, diverting the contest; “λωποδύτηςis the word you mean. And I fear it applies to me also”.“Perhaps, young man”, cried Rufus Hutton, “you know more Hindustani than I do. Translate—— ”, and he poured out a sentence which I dare not try to write down. “But, my good fellow, you forget it is we who are stealing yours”.“I think”, said Sir Cradock, slowly, and seriously displeased—Good Heavens! to joke about the succession to the Nowelhurst title and lands!—“I think, sir, this can hardly be looked upon as evidence. I always cut short the depositions, sir. As Chairman of the Quarter Sessions, I always cut short the depositions”.“And so you wish to cut short, sir, the deposition of your son”. Rufus laughed at his own bad joke, and expected the others to laugh with him. It made things worse than ever. Sir Cradock was afraid to speak, lest he might say anything unseemlyto a visitor. The young man saw his opportunity, and took advantage of it.“Father, I beg you to let me go. You would not wish me, I am sure, to be here; only you think it my right to be. If you please, I will waive that right; I can wholly trust your decision”.He bowed to his father with cold respect, being hurt at his rapid conviction, to Rufus Hutton with some contempt and a smile at the situation. Then he marched down the long room placidly, and whistled when he was out of it. The next moment he bolted away to his bedroom, and wept there very heavily.“Glorious fellow”! cried Dr. Hutton. “But we donʼt at all appreciate him. Requires a man of mind to do that. And now for Mrs. OʼGaghan”! Leaving Sir Cradock this speech to digest, he arose and rang the bell sharply. He felt himself fully invested now with supreme judicial authority, and he longed to be at the Irishwoman, who had called him a “red gossoon”.

Beside the embowered stream that forms the eastern verge of the chase, young Cradock Nowell sat and gazed, every now and then, into the water. Through a break in the trees beyond it, he could see one chimney–top and a streak of the thatch of the Rectory. In vain he hoped that Dr. Hutton would leave him to himself; for he did not wish to go into the proofs, but to meditate on the consequences. Some bitterness, no doubt, there was in the corner of his heart, when he thought of all that Clayton now had to offer Amy Rosedew. He had lately been told, as a mighty secret, something which grieved and angered him; and the more, that he must not speak of it, as his straightforward nature urged him. The secret was that innocent Amy met his brother Clayton, more than once, in the dusk of the forest, and met him by appointment. It grieved poor Cradock, because he loved Amy with all his unchangeable heart; itangered him, because he thought it very mean of Clayton to take advantage of one so young and ignorant of the world. But never until the present moment, as he looked at the homely thatch in the distance, and the thin smoke curling over it, had it occurred to his honest mind, that his brother might not be like himself—that Clayton might mean ill by the maiden.

And now for the moment it seemed more likely, as he glanced back at the lordly house, commanding the country for miles around, and all that country its fief and its thrall, and now the whole destined for Clayton. He thought of the meanness about the Ireland, and two or three other little things, proofs of a little nature. Then he gazed at the Rectory thatch again, and the smoke from the kitchen chimney, and seemed to see pure playful Amy making something nice for her father.

“Good God! I would shoot him if he did; or strike him dead into this water”.

In the hot haste of youth he had spoken aloud, with his fist gathered up, and his eyes flashing fire. Rufus Hutton saw and heard him, and thought of it many times after that day.

“Oh, you are thinking of Caldo, because he snapped at me. There are no signs of hydrophobia. You must not think of shooting him”.

“I was not thinking of Caldo. I hope I did not mean it. God knows, I am very wicked”.

“So we are all, my boy. I should like to see afellow that wasnʼt. Iʼd pay fifty pounds for his body, and dissect him into an angel”.

Cradock Nowell smiled a little at such a reward for excellence, and then renewed his gaze of dreary bewilderment at the water.

“Now let me show you my tracings, Cradock. Three times I have pulled them out, and you wonʼt condescend to glance at them. You have made up your mind to abdicate upon myipse dixi. Now look at the bend sinister, that is yours; the bend dexter is for the elder brother”.

“Dr. Hutton, it may be, and is, I believe, false shame on my part; but I wish to hear nothing about it. Perhaps, if my mother were living, I might not have been so particular. But giving, as she did, her life for mine, I cannot regard it medically. The question is now for my father. I will not enter into it”.

“Oh the subjectiveness of the age”! said Rufus Hutton, rising, then walking to and fro on the bank, as he held discourse with himself; “here is a youth who ought to be proud, although at the cost of his inheritance, of illustrating, in the most remarkable manner, indeed I may say of originating, my metrostigmatic theory. He carries upon the cervical column a clear impression of grapes, and they say that before the show at Romsey the gardener was very cross indeed about his choice Black Hamburgs. His brother carries the identical impress, only with the direction inverted—dexter in fact, and dexter was themark of the elder son. This I can prove by the tracing made at the time, not with any view to future identification, but from the interest I felt, at an early stage of my experience, in a question then under controversy. If I prove this, what happens? Why, that he loses everything—the importance, the house, the lands, the title; and becomes the laughing–stock of the county as the sham Sir Cradock. What ought he to do at once, then? Why, perhaps to toss me into that hole, where I should never get out again. By Gad, I am rash to trust myself with him, and no other soul in the secret”! Here Dr. Hutton shuddered to think how little water it would take to drown him, and the river so dark and so taciturn! “At any rate, he ought to fall upon me with forceps, and probe, and scalpel, and tear my evidence to atoms. For, after all, what is it, without corroboration? But instead of that, he only says, ‘Dr. Hutton, no more of this, if you please, no more of this! The question is now for my father’. And he must know well enough to which side his father will lean in the inquiry. Confound the boy! If he had only coaxed me with those great eyes, I would have kept it all snug till Doomsday. Oh what will my Rosa say to me? She has always loved this boy, and admired him so immensely”.

Perhaps it was his pretty young wifeʼs high approval of Cradock which first had made the testy Rufus a partisan of Clayton. The cause of hishaving settled at “Geopharmacy Lodge” was, that upon his return from India he fell in love with a Hampshire maiden, whom he met “above bar” at Southampton. How he contrived to get introduced to her, he alone can tell; but he was a most persevering fellow, and little hampered with diffidence. She proved to be the eldest daughter of Sir Cradockʼs largest tenant, a man of good standing and education, who lived near Fordingbridge. As Rufus had brought home tidy pickings from his appointment in India, the only thing he had to do was to secure the ladyʼs heart. And this he was not long about, for many ladies like high colour even more than hairiness. First she laughed at his dancing ways, incessant mobility, and sharp eyes; but very soon she began to like him, and now she thought him a wonderful man. This opinion (with proper change of gender) was heartily reciprocated, and the result was that a happier couple never yet made fools of themselves, in the judgment of the world; never yet enjoyed themselves, in the sterling wisdom of home. They suited each other admirably in their very differences; they laughed at each other and themselves, and any one else who laughed at them.

“Well, I shall be off”, said Dr. Hutton at last, in feigned disgust; “you will stare at the water all day, Mr. Cradock, and take no notice of me”.

“I beg your pardon, I forgot myself; I did not mean to be rude, I assure you”.

“I know you did not. I know you would neverbe rude to any one. Good–bye, I have business on hand”.

“You will be back, Dr. Hutton, when my father returns from his ride? It is very foolish of me, but I cannot bear this suspense”.

“Trust me. I will see to it. But he will not be back, they tell me, till nearly four oʼclock”.

“Oh, what a time to wait! Donʼt send for me if you can help it. But, if he wants me, I will come”.

“Good–bye, my lad. Keep your pecker up. There are hundreds of men in the world with harder lines than yours”.

“I should rather think so. I only wish there were not”.

Cradock attempted a lively smile, and executed a pleasant one, as Rufus Hutton shook his hand, and set off upon his business. And his business was to ride at once as far as the “Jolly Foresters”, that lonely inn on the Beaulieu–road, at the eastern end of the parish, whereat John Rosedew baited Coræbus at the turn of the pastoral tour. The little doctor knew well enough, though he seldom passed that way, how the smart Miss Penny of former days, Mrs. OʼGaghanʼs assistant, was now the important Mrs. George Cripps, hostess of the “Jolly Foresters”, where the four roads met.

Meanwhile, the scaffolds went on merrily under Mr. Garnetʼs care, and so did the awnings, marquees, &c., and the terraces for the ladies. The lamps in the old oak being fixed, the boughs weremanned, like a frigateʼs yards, with dexterous fellows hoisting flags, devices, and transparencies, all prepared to express in fire the mighty name of Cradock. All the men must finish that night, lest any one lose his legitimate chance of being ancestrally drunk on the morrow. Cradock Nowell, wandering about, could not bear to go near them. Those two hours seemed longer to him than any year of his previous life. He went and told Caldo all about it; and that helped him on a little.

Caldo was a noble setter, pure of breed, and high of soul, and heavily feathered on legs and tail. His colour was such a lily white, that you grieved for him on a wet fallow; and the bright red spots he was endowed with were like the cheeks of Helen. Delicate carmine, enriched with scarlet, mapped his back with islands; and the pink of his cheeks, where the whiskers grew, made all the young ladies kiss him. His nostrils were black as a double–lined tunnel leading into a pencil–mine; and his gums were starred with violet, and his teeth as white as new mushrooms. In all the county of Hants there was no dog to compare with him; for he came of a glorious strain, made perfect at Kingston, in Berkshire. Lift but a finger, and down he went, in the height of his hottest excitement; wave the finger, and off he dashed, his great eyes looking back for repression. For style of ranging, all dogs were rats to him, anywhere in the New Forest; so freely he went, so buoyant, so careful, and yet all the while so hilarious. Only onefault he had, and I never knew dog without one; he was jealous to the backbone.

Cradock was dreadfully proud of him. Anything else he had in the world he would have given to Clayton, but he could not quite give Caldo; even though Clayton had begged, instead of backing his Wena against him. Wena was a very nice creature, anxious to please, and elegant; but of a different order entirely from the high–minded Caldo. Dogs differ as widely as we do. Who shall blame either of us?

Cradock now leaned over Caldo, with the hot tears in his eyes, and gently titillating the sensitive part of his ears, and looking straight into his heart, begged to inform him of the trouble they were both involved in. “Have they taken the shooting from us”? was Caldoʼs first inquiry; and his eyes felt rather sore in his head that he should have to ask the question. “No, my boy, they havenʼt. But we must not go shooting any more, until the whole matter is settled”. “I hate putting off things till to–morrow”, Caldo replied, impatiently; “the cock–pheasants come almost up to my kennel. What the deuce is to come of it”? “Caldo, please to be frigido. You shall come to my room by–and–by. I shall be able then to smoke a pipe, and we will talk about it together. You know that I have never cared about the title and all that stuff”.

“I know that well enough”, said Caldo; “nevertheless, I do. It gives me a status as a dog, which I thoroughly appreciate. Am I to come downfrom goodly paunches to liver and lights and horses’ heads and hounds’ food? I donʼt think I could stand it. But I would live on a crust a day, if you would only come and live with me”. And he nuzzled up to his master, in a way that made his tears come.

Cradock was sent for suddenly. Old Hogstaff trotted across the yard (wherein he seldom ventured) to say that Sir Cradock Nowell wished to see his son. Cradock following hastily, with all his heart in his mouth, wondered at the penny–wort, the wall–rue, and the snap–dragons, which he had never seen before. Hogstaff tottered along before him, picking uneasily over the stones, bobbing his chin, and muttering.

Sir Cradock sat in the long heavy room known as the “justice–hall”, where he and his brother magistrates held oyer of many a culprit. The great oak table was dabbed with ink, and the grey walls with mop–shaped blotches, where sullen prisoners had thrown their heads back, and refused to answer. At the lower end was Rufus Hutton, jerky, dogmatical, keenly important; while the old man sat at the head of the table, with his back to the pointed window, and looked (perhaps from local usage) more like a magistrate than a father. Straight up the long room Cradock walked, as calmly as if he were going to see where his quoit was stuck; then he made salutation to his father, as his custom was, for many bygone fashions were retained in the ancient family. Sir Cradock wasproud of his sonʼs self–command and dignified manly carriage, and if Dr. Hutton had not been there, he would have arisen to comfort him. As it was, he only said, with a faint and doubtful smile—

“So, sir, I find that, after all, you are but an impostor”.

Young Cradock was a proud man—man from that day forth, I shall call him “lad” no longer—ay, a prouder man, pile upon pile, than the father who once had spoiled him. But his pride was of the right sort—self–respect, not self–esteem. So he did not appeal, by word or look, to the sympathy lurking, and no doubt working, in the pith of his fatherʼs heart, but answered calmly and coldly, though his soul was hot with sorrow—

“Sir, I believe it is so”. His eyes were on his fatherʼs. He longed to look him down, and felt the power to do it; but dropped them as should a good son. Although the white–haired man was glad at the promotion of his favourite, his heart was yearning towards the child more worthy to succeed him. But his notions of filial duty—which himself had been called upon to practise chiefly in memory, having seen very little of his father, and having lost him early—were of the stern, cold order now, the buckle and buckram style; though much relaxed at intervals in Master Claytonʼs favour. Finding no compunction, no humility in his sonʼs look, for a mistake which was wholly of others, and receiving no expression of grief at the loss ofheirship, Sir Cradock hardened back again into his proper dignity, and resumed his air of inquiry. “I wish John Rosedew were here”, he thought, and then it repented him of the wish, for he knew how stubborn the parson was, and how he would have Craddy the foremost.

Rufus Hutton, all this time, was in the agony of holding his tongue. He tried to think of his Rosa, and so to abstract himself airily from the present scene. He had ridden over to see her yesterday, and now dwelt upon their doings. Rosa was to come to–morrow, and he would go to fetch his wife in a carriage that would amaze her. Then he met Cradock Nowellʼs eyes, and wondered what he was thinking of.

“Now, Sir Cradock Nowell, this wonʼt do at all. How long are we to play fast and loose with a finer fellow than either of us”? Oh, that hot–headed Rufus, what mischief he did then! “Although I have not the honour, sir, of being in the commission of peace for this little county, I have taken magisterial duty in a district rather larger than Ireland thrown into Great Britain. And I can grow, per acre, thrice the amount of corn that any of your farmers can”. His colour deepened with self–assertion, like the central quills of a dahlia.

“We must have you to teach us, Dr. Hutton. It is a thing to be thought about. But at present you are kindly interested in—in giving your evidence”.

Even then, if Dr. Hutton, with all his practisedacumen, had mixed one grain of the knowledge of men, he might have done what he liked with Sir Cradock, and re–established the dynasty; unless, indeed, young Cradock were bent upon going through with everything. But the only mode Rufus Hutton knew of meeting the world was antagonism.

“Yes, sir, you may think nothing of it. But I have hunted a thing for three hundred leagues, and got at it through the biggest liars that ever stole a white manʼs galligaskins”.

“Thank you, Dr. Hutton”, said Cradock, diverting the contest; “λωποδύτηςis the word you mean. And I fear it applies to me also”.

“Perhaps, young man”, cried Rufus Hutton, “you know more Hindustani than I do. Translate—— ”, and he poured out a sentence which I dare not try to write down. “But, my good fellow, you forget it is we who are stealing yours”.

“I think”, said Sir Cradock, slowly, and seriously displeased—Good Heavens! to joke about the succession to the Nowelhurst title and lands!—“I think, sir, this can hardly be looked upon as evidence. I always cut short the depositions, sir. As Chairman of the Quarter Sessions, I always cut short the depositions”.

“And so you wish to cut short, sir, the deposition of your son”. Rufus laughed at his own bad joke, and expected the others to laugh with him. It made things worse than ever. Sir Cradock was afraid to speak, lest he might say anything unseemlyto a visitor. The young man saw his opportunity, and took advantage of it.

“Father, I beg you to let me go. You would not wish me, I am sure, to be here; only you think it my right to be. If you please, I will waive that right; I can wholly trust your decision”.

He bowed to his father with cold respect, being hurt at his rapid conviction, to Rufus Hutton with some contempt and a smile at the situation. Then he marched down the long room placidly, and whistled when he was out of it. The next moment he bolted away to his bedroom, and wept there very heavily.

“Glorious fellow”! cried Dr. Hutton. “But we donʼt at all appreciate him. Requires a man of mind to do that. And now for Mrs. OʼGaghan”! Leaving Sir Cradock this speech to digest, he arose and rang the bell sharply. He felt himself fully invested now with supreme judicial authority, and he longed to be at the Irishwoman, who had called him a “red gossoon”.

CHAPTER XVII.Biddy OʼGaghan was hard at work, boiling down herbs and blessing them, drying and bottling cleverly, scraping, and picking the cloves out. She had turned the still–room of the house into her private laboratory; and she saved all the parish and half of the hundred from “them pisoners, as called theirselves doctors”. Now, she was one of those powerful women—common enough, by–the–by—who can work all the better for talking; and, between her sniffs at the saucepan–lids, and her tests upon the drying–pans, she had learned that something strange was up, and had made fifty guesses about it. Blowing the scum and the pearly beads from a pot of pellitory of the wall (one of her staunch panaceas), she received a command most peremptory to present herself in the justice–room.“Thin was that the way as they said it, Dick? No sinse nor manners but that! An’ every bit ofthe blessed while they knowed it for my bilinʼ–day! Muckstraw, thin, is Bridget OʼGaghan no more count than a pisonin’ doctor? Hould that handle there, Dick. If iver you stirs it the bridth of one on your carroty whiskers from that smut on the firebar, till such time as you sees me agin, Iʼll down with it arl in your crooked back bilinʼ, and your chilthers shall disinherit it”.Leaving Dick rooted in trepidation, for she was now considered a witch, she hurried into her little bedroom; for she had the strongest sense of propriety, and would not “make herself common”. Then she dashed her apron aside, and softened the fire–glow from her nose, and smoothed the creases of her jet–black hair, which curled in bars like crochet–work. This last she did, with some lubricous staple of her own discovery, applying it with the ball of her thumb. “The hairs of me head”, as she always called them, were thick of number and strong of fibre, and went zig–zag on their road to her ears, like a string of jockeyʼs horses shying, or a flight of jack–snipes. Then a final glance at her fungous looking–glass, just to know if she were all right; the glass gave her back a fine, warm–hearted face, still young in its rapid expression, Irish in every line of it, glazed with lies for hatred, and beaming with truth for love. So Biddy gave two or three nods thereat, and knew herself match for fifty cross–examiners, if she could only keep her temper.As she marched up to the table, with her headthrown back, her portly shape made the most of, and the front of her strong arms glistening, then dropped a crisp curtsey to Sir Cradock without deigning to notice his visitor, the little doctorʼs experience told him that he had caught a thorough Tartar. All his solemn preparations were thrown away upon her, though the biggest Testament in the house lay on the table before him; and a most impressive desk was covered with pens, and paper, and sealing–wax.Dr. Hutton would not yet open his mouth, because he wished to begin augustly. Meanwhile, Sir Cradock kept waiting for him, till Biddy could wait no longer. Turning her broad back full upon Rufus, who appreciated the compliment, she made another short scrape to her master, and asked, with an ogle suppressed to a mince—“And what wud your honour be pleased to want with the poor widow, Bridget OʼGaghan, then”?“Bridget, that gentleman, Dr. Hutton, has made an extremely important discovery, affecting most nearly my honour and that of the family. And now I rely upon you, Bridget, as a faithful and valued dependent of ours, to answer, without reservation or attempt at equivocation, all the questions he may put to you”.“Quistions, your honour”? and Biddy looked stupid in the cleverest way imaginable.“Yes, questions, Bridget OʼGaghan. Inquiries, interrogations—ah! that quite explains what I mean”.“Is it axing any harm, thin, any ondacency of a poor lone widder woman, your honour wud be afther”? She took to her brogue as a tower of refuge. Bilingual races are up to the tactics of rats with a double hole.“Sir Cradock Nowell”, said Rufus, from the bottom of his chest, “you, I believe, are a magistrate for this county of Hants, Vice–Lieutenant, Colonel of Yeomanry, the representative of the sovereign. I call upon you now, in all these capacities, to administer the oath to this prevaricating woman”.The penultimate word rather terrified Bridget, for she never had heard it before; but the last word of all reassured her.She turned round suddenly on little Rufus, who had jumped from his chair in excitement, and standing by head and shoulders above him, she opened her great eyes down upon him, like the port–holes of a frigate.“Faix, thin, and I niver seen this young man at all at all. Itʼs between the airms of the cheer he were, and me niver to look so low for him! ’Tis the black measles as heʼve tuk, and Iʼve seen as bad a case brought through with. The luck oʼ the blessed saints in glory! Iʼve been bilin’ up for the same. If itʼs narse him I can to the toorn of it, Iʼm intirely at your sairvice, Sir Craduck. I likes to narse a base little chap, sin’ thereʼs no call to fear for his beauty”.This last was uttered gently, and quite as aprivate reflection; but it told more than all the rest. For ever since Dr. Hutton had married a woman half his age, he had grown exceedingly sensitive as to his personal appearance. By a very great effort he kept silent, but his face was almost black with wrath, as he handed the great book to Sir Cradock. The magistrate presented it very solemnly to Bridget, who took it as patly as if it had been a flat iron. A score of times she had sworn according to what was thought good for her, years ago, in Ireland. At the right moment of dictation, she gave the book a loud smack that required good binding to stand it, and then crossed herself very devoutly, to take the taste away. Of a heretic oath she had little fear, though she would not have told a big lie to her priest. Then she dropped her eyes, and chastened her aspect, as if overcome by the sense of solemn responsibility.“Bridget OʼGeoghegan”, began the worthy doctor, emphasising slowly every syllable of her name, and prepared to write down her replies, “you are now upon your solemn oath, to declare the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And if you fail in this, remember, you will place your precious soul in the power of the evil one”.“Amin to that same, thin. And more power to yer”.“Bridget, do you remember the night when your masterʼs children were born”?“Sure an’ I do, thin. Unless it wur the morninʼ. How wud I help remimber it”?“And do you remember the medical gentleman who was suddenly called in”?“And if I wur ten times on my oath, I donʼt remimber no gintleman. A bit of a red–haired gossoon there was, as wor on the way to be transported”.“Do you remember his name”?“Remimber it? Let me see, thin. It wor hardly worth the throuble of forgittin. Button, or Mutton; no, faix I bʼlieve it wor Rubus Rotten”.“Well, never mind his name—— ”“My faith, and I niver did, thin, nor the little spalpin ayther. But to my heart I was sorry for the dear, good, beautiful lady—glory be to her sowl—along o’ that ignorant, carroty, sprawlinʼ, big–knuckled omadhawn. Small chance for her to git over it”.“Silence, woman, how dare you”? said Sir Cradock, very angrily.“And I thought it was arl the truth as yer honour said I was to tell”. Here Biddy looked hurt and amazed. “Have the little clerk got it all in black and white”? With a sigh for his incapacity, she peered over the desk at his paper.“Now, Mrs. OʼGaghan, no trifling”! Her master spoke sternly and sharply. But Rufus could not speak at all. He was in such a choking passion.“If so be I have said any harm, sir, for the best of us is errowneous, I axes a humble pardon. Iver since I lose my good husband—and a better husband there cudnʼt be, barrin only the bellises, and I wudnʼt deny upon my oath but what I desarved the spout now and thin—— ”“Mrs. OʼGaghan”, said Dr. Hutton, trying very hard to look amiable, “do your best for once, I entreat you, to prove yourself, if there is such a thing, arespectable Irishwoman”.From that moment the tables were turned. Her temper boiled up like a cauldron. It is quite of a piece with a thing that is all pieces—the genuine Irish nature—that, proud as they are of their country, they cannot bear to be told of their citizenship.“Irish, thin, is it? Irish indade! Well, and I knows Iʼm Irish. And if I ainʼt, what do I care who knows I am”?She flung up her head superbly, and great tears ran from her eyes. Rufus Hutton perceived his advantage, and, though not at all a mean fellow, he was smarting far too sharply from the many attacks on his vanity, to forego his sweet revenge.“You remember, then, when the doctor gave you the first–born child, that he made some odd remark, and told you to keep it separate”?“And how can a poor Irishwoman remimber anything at all”?“Come, you know very well that you remember that. Now, can you deny it”?“Is it likely youʼll catch me deny anything as is a lie, then, Irish or not, as you plases”? Her bosom still was heaving with the ground–swell of her injury.“Well, now, for the honour of old Ireland, tell us the truth for once. What were the words he said”?“Save me if evir a bit of me can tell. Mayhap I might call to mind, if I heerʼd them words agin”.“Were they not these—ʼLeft to right over the shoulder, and a strapping boy he is?’”“Bedad thin, and they might have been”.“I want to know what they were”.“How can I tell what they were? I only know what they was”.“Well, and what was that”?“Thim very same words as youʼve said”. She turned towards the door with a sullen air, while he looked at Sir Cradock in triumph. Nevertheless, he still wanted her evidence as to the subsequent mistake. He had been, as I said, to the “Jolly Foresters” and seen the Miss Penny of old; who now, as the mother of nine or ten children, was kindly communicative upon all questions of infancy.“So then, Mrs. OʼGaghan, with the best intentions in the world, you marked the elder child with a rosette, as I saw on the following day”.“Thrue for you as the Gospel. And what more wud you have me do”?“Nothing. Only take a needle and thread to it; instead of crimping it into the cap”.Poor Biddy started from where she stood, and pressed one hand to her heart. “Itʼs the divil himself”, she muttered. “as turns me inside out so. And sure that same is the reason he does be so black red”. Then aloud, with a final rally—“And who say they iver see me take a needle and thread? And if I did, what odds to them”?“No, that was the very thing you omitted to do, until it was too late. But when you sent to Mrs. Toaster for her large butter–scales, what was it you put on each side”?“What was it? No lining at all. Fair play for the both of them, as I hope to be weighed in purgatory”.Sir Cradock was looking on, all this while, with the deepest amazement and interest. He had not received any hint beforehand of this confirmative evidence. “And, pray, what was the reason that you wanted to weigh them at all? You know that it is considered unlucky among nurses to weigh infants”.“Why else wud I weigh them, except to see which wur the heaviest”?“And pray, Bridget, which was the heavier”? asked Sir Cradock, almost smiling.“Mr. Cradock, as is now, your honour. Iʼd swear it on my dying bed. Did you think, then, Iʼd iver wrong him, the innocents as they was”?“And did you weigh them with rosettes on”? Rufus Hutton had not finished yet.“How cud I, and only one got it”?“Oh, then, you had fastened it on again”?“Do you think they was born with ribbons on”?This was poor Biddyʼs last repartee. She lost heart and told everything afterwards. How she had heard that there was some difference in the marks of the infants, though what it was she knew not justly; having, like most Irishwomen, the clearest perception that right and left are only relative terms, and come wrong in the looking–glass, as they do in heraldry. How, when she found the rosette adrift, she had done the very best she could, according to her lights, to work even–handed justice, and up to this very day believed that the heft of the scales was the true one. Then she fell to a–crying bitterly that her darling Crad should be ousted, and then she laughed as heartily that her dear boy Clayton was in for it.With timid glances at Mrs. OʼGaghan, like a boyʼs at his schoolmaster, Jane Cripps came in, and told all she knew, saying “please sir”, at every sentence. She had seen at the time Dr. Huttonʼs sketch, which was made without Biddyʼs knowledge, because she never would have allowed it, on account of the bad luck to follow. And Mrs. Cripps was very clever now everything was known. She had felt all along that things went queerly on the third day after the babes were born. She hadmade up her mind to speak at the time, only Mrs. OʼGaghan was such—excuse her—such a disciplinarian, that—that—and then Lady Nowell died, and everything was at sixes and sevens, and no one cried more violent, let them say what they like about it, than she, Jane Penny as had been.“If Sir Cradock thought further evidence needful, there was Mrs. Bowyer, a most respectable woman, who washed thirty shilling a week, Mrs. Cripps’ first cousin and comate, who had heard at the time all about the drawing, and had not been easy about the scales, and had dreamed of it many times afterwards, as indeed her Aunt Betsy know; and her husband was no man, or he never would have said to her—— ”By this time the shadows came over the room, and the trees outside were rustling, and you could see them against the amber sunset, like a childʼs scrawling on his horn–book. Volunteers throughout the household longed to give their evidence. Their self–respect for a week would be hostile, if it were not accepted. But Sir Cradock kept the door fastened, till Mrs. OʼGaghan slipped out, and put all the wenches down the steps backwards. Mrs. Toaster alone she durst not touch; but Mrs. Toaster will never forgive her, and never believe the case tried on its merits, because she was not summoned to depose to the loan of the scales.Ha, so it is in our country, and among the niggers also. When wealth, position, title, even bastardom from princes, even the notoriety whicha first–rate murderer stabs for—when any of these are in question, how we crowd into the witness–box, how we feel the reek of the court an aureola on our temples. But let any poor fellow, noble unknown, an upright man now on the bend with trouble, let him go in to face his creditors, after the uphill fight of years, let him gaze around with work–worn eyes—which of his friends will be there to back him, who will give him testimony?After all, what matters it except in the score against us? We are bitter with the world, we make a fuss, and feel it fester, we explode in small misanthropy, only because we have not in our heart–sore the true balm of humanity. No longer let our watchword be, “Every man for himself, and God for us all”, but “Every man for God, and so for himself and all”. So may we do away with all illicit process, and return to the primal axiom that “the greater contains the less”.

Biddy OʼGaghan was hard at work, boiling down herbs and blessing them, drying and bottling cleverly, scraping, and picking the cloves out. She had turned the still–room of the house into her private laboratory; and she saved all the parish and half of the hundred from “them pisoners, as called theirselves doctors”. Now, she was one of those powerful women—common enough, by–the–by—who can work all the better for talking; and, between her sniffs at the saucepan–lids, and her tests upon the drying–pans, she had learned that something strange was up, and had made fifty guesses about it. Blowing the scum and the pearly beads from a pot of pellitory of the wall (one of her staunch panaceas), she received a command most peremptory to present herself in the justice–room.

“Thin was that the way as they said it, Dick? No sinse nor manners but that! An’ every bit ofthe blessed while they knowed it for my bilinʼ–day! Muckstraw, thin, is Bridget OʼGaghan no more count than a pisonin’ doctor? Hould that handle there, Dick. If iver you stirs it the bridth of one on your carroty whiskers from that smut on the firebar, till such time as you sees me agin, Iʼll down with it arl in your crooked back bilinʼ, and your chilthers shall disinherit it”.

Leaving Dick rooted in trepidation, for she was now considered a witch, she hurried into her little bedroom; for she had the strongest sense of propriety, and would not “make herself common”. Then she dashed her apron aside, and softened the fire–glow from her nose, and smoothed the creases of her jet–black hair, which curled in bars like crochet–work. This last she did, with some lubricous staple of her own discovery, applying it with the ball of her thumb. “The hairs of me head”, as she always called them, were thick of number and strong of fibre, and went zig–zag on their road to her ears, like a string of jockeyʼs horses shying, or a flight of jack–snipes. Then a final glance at her fungous looking–glass, just to know if she were all right; the glass gave her back a fine, warm–hearted face, still young in its rapid expression, Irish in every line of it, glazed with lies for hatred, and beaming with truth for love. So Biddy gave two or three nods thereat, and knew herself match for fifty cross–examiners, if she could only keep her temper.

As she marched up to the table, with her headthrown back, her portly shape made the most of, and the front of her strong arms glistening, then dropped a crisp curtsey to Sir Cradock without deigning to notice his visitor, the little doctorʼs experience told him that he had caught a thorough Tartar. All his solemn preparations were thrown away upon her, though the biggest Testament in the house lay on the table before him; and a most impressive desk was covered with pens, and paper, and sealing–wax.

Dr. Hutton would not yet open his mouth, because he wished to begin augustly. Meanwhile, Sir Cradock kept waiting for him, till Biddy could wait no longer. Turning her broad back full upon Rufus, who appreciated the compliment, she made another short scrape to her master, and asked, with an ogle suppressed to a mince—

“And what wud your honour be pleased to want with the poor widow, Bridget OʼGaghan, then”?

“Bridget, that gentleman, Dr. Hutton, has made an extremely important discovery, affecting most nearly my honour and that of the family. And now I rely upon you, Bridget, as a faithful and valued dependent of ours, to answer, without reservation or attempt at equivocation, all the questions he may put to you”.

“Quistions, your honour”? and Biddy looked stupid in the cleverest way imaginable.

“Yes, questions, Bridget OʼGaghan. Inquiries, interrogations—ah! that quite explains what I mean”.

“Is it axing any harm, thin, any ondacency of a poor lone widder woman, your honour wud be afther”? She took to her brogue as a tower of refuge. Bilingual races are up to the tactics of rats with a double hole.

“Sir Cradock Nowell”, said Rufus, from the bottom of his chest, “you, I believe, are a magistrate for this county of Hants, Vice–Lieutenant, Colonel of Yeomanry, the representative of the sovereign. I call upon you now, in all these capacities, to administer the oath to this prevaricating woman”.

The penultimate word rather terrified Bridget, for she never had heard it before; but the last word of all reassured her.

She turned round suddenly on little Rufus, who had jumped from his chair in excitement, and standing by head and shoulders above him, she opened her great eyes down upon him, like the port–holes of a frigate.

“Faix, thin, and I niver seen this young man at all at all. Itʼs between the airms of the cheer he were, and me niver to look so low for him! ’Tis the black measles as heʼve tuk, and Iʼve seen as bad a case brought through with. The luck oʼ the blessed saints in glory! Iʼve been bilin’ up for the same. If itʼs narse him I can to the toorn of it, Iʼm intirely at your sairvice, Sir Craduck. I likes to narse a base little chap, sin’ thereʼs no call to fear for his beauty”.

This last was uttered gently, and quite as aprivate reflection; but it told more than all the rest. For ever since Dr. Hutton had married a woman half his age, he had grown exceedingly sensitive as to his personal appearance. By a very great effort he kept silent, but his face was almost black with wrath, as he handed the great book to Sir Cradock. The magistrate presented it very solemnly to Bridget, who took it as patly as if it had been a flat iron. A score of times she had sworn according to what was thought good for her, years ago, in Ireland. At the right moment of dictation, she gave the book a loud smack that required good binding to stand it, and then crossed herself very devoutly, to take the taste away. Of a heretic oath she had little fear, though she would not have told a big lie to her priest. Then she dropped her eyes, and chastened her aspect, as if overcome by the sense of solemn responsibility.

“Bridget OʼGeoghegan”, began the worthy doctor, emphasising slowly every syllable of her name, and prepared to write down her replies, “you are now upon your solemn oath, to declare the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And if you fail in this, remember, you will place your precious soul in the power of the evil one”.

“Amin to that same, thin. And more power to yer”.

“Bridget, do you remember the night when your masterʼs children were born”?

“Sure an’ I do, thin. Unless it wur the morninʼ. How wud I help remimber it”?

“And do you remember the medical gentleman who was suddenly called in”?

“And if I wur ten times on my oath, I donʼt remimber no gintleman. A bit of a red–haired gossoon there was, as wor on the way to be transported”.

“Do you remember his name”?

“Remimber it? Let me see, thin. It wor hardly worth the throuble of forgittin. Button, or Mutton; no, faix I bʼlieve it wor Rubus Rotten”.

“Well, never mind his name—— ”

“My faith, and I niver did, thin, nor the little spalpin ayther. But to my heart I was sorry for the dear, good, beautiful lady—glory be to her sowl—along o’ that ignorant, carroty, sprawlinʼ, big–knuckled omadhawn. Small chance for her to git over it”.

“Silence, woman, how dare you”? said Sir Cradock, very angrily.

“And I thought it was arl the truth as yer honour said I was to tell”. Here Biddy looked hurt and amazed. “Have the little clerk got it all in black and white”? With a sigh for his incapacity, she peered over the desk at his paper.

“Now, Mrs. OʼGaghan, no trifling”! Her master spoke sternly and sharply. But Rufus could not speak at all. He was in such a choking passion.

“If so be I have said any harm, sir, for the best of us is errowneous, I axes a humble pardon. Iver since I lose my good husband—and a better husband there cudnʼt be, barrin only the bellises, and I wudnʼt deny upon my oath but what I desarved the spout now and thin—— ”

“Mrs. OʼGaghan”, said Dr. Hutton, trying very hard to look amiable, “do your best for once, I entreat you, to prove yourself, if there is such a thing, arespectable Irishwoman”.

From that moment the tables were turned. Her temper boiled up like a cauldron. It is quite of a piece with a thing that is all pieces—the genuine Irish nature—that, proud as they are of their country, they cannot bear to be told of their citizenship.

“Irish, thin, is it? Irish indade! Well, and I knows Iʼm Irish. And if I ainʼt, what do I care who knows I am”?

She flung up her head superbly, and great tears ran from her eyes. Rufus Hutton perceived his advantage, and, though not at all a mean fellow, he was smarting far too sharply from the many attacks on his vanity, to forego his sweet revenge.

“You remember, then, when the doctor gave you the first–born child, that he made some odd remark, and told you to keep it separate”?

“And how can a poor Irishwoman remimber anything at all”?

“Come, you know very well that you remember that. Now, can you deny it”?

“Is it likely youʼll catch me deny anything as is a lie, then, Irish or not, as you plases”? Her bosom still was heaving with the ground–swell of her injury.

“Well, now, for the honour of old Ireland, tell us the truth for once. What were the words he said”?

“Save me if evir a bit of me can tell. Mayhap I might call to mind, if I heerʼd them words agin”.

“Were they not these—ʼLeft to right over the shoulder, and a strapping boy he is?’”

“Bedad thin, and they might have been”.

“I want to know what they were”.

“How can I tell what they were? I only know what they was”.

“Well, and what was that”?

“Thim very same words as youʼve said”. She turned towards the door with a sullen air, while he looked at Sir Cradock in triumph. Nevertheless, he still wanted her evidence as to the subsequent mistake. He had been, as I said, to the “Jolly Foresters” and seen the Miss Penny of old; who now, as the mother of nine or ten children, was kindly communicative upon all questions of infancy.

“So then, Mrs. OʼGaghan, with the best intentions in the world, you marked the elder child with a rosette, as I saw on the following day”.

“Thrue for you as the Gospel. And what more wud you have me do”?

“Nothing. Only take a needle and thread to it; instead of crimping it into the cap”.

Poor Biddy started from where she stood, and pressed one hand to her heart. “Itʼs the divil himself”, she muttered. “as turns me inside out so. And sure that same is the reason he does be so black red”. Then aloud, with a final rally—

“And who say they iver see me take a needle and thread? And if I did, what odds to them”?

“No, that was the very thing you omitted to do, until it was too late. But when you sent to Mrs. Toaster for her large butter–scales, what was it you put on each side”?

“What was it? No lining at all. Fair play for the both of them, as I hope to be weighed in purgatory”.

Sir Cradock was looking on, all this while, with the deepest amazement and interest. He had not received any hint beforehand of this confirmative evidence. “And, pray, what was the reason that you wanted to weigh them at all? You know that it is considered unlucky among nurses to weigh infants”.

“Why else wud I weigh them, except to see which wur the heaviest”?

“And pray, Bridget, which was the heavier”? asked Sir Cradock, almost smiling.

“Mr. Cradock, as is now, your honour. Iʼd swear it on my dying bed. Did you think, then, Iʼd iver wrong him, the innocents as they was”?

“And did you weigh them with rosettes on”? Rufus Hutton had not finished yet.

“How cud I, and only one got it”?

“Oh, then, you had fastened it on again”?

“Do you think they was born with ribbons on”?

This was poor Biddyʼs last repartee. She lost heart and told everything afterwards. How she had heard that there was some difference in the marks of the infants, though what it was she knew not justly; having, like most Irishwomen, the clearest perception that right and left are only relative terms, and come wrong in the looking–glass, as they do in heraldry. How, when she found the rosette adrift, she had done the very best she could, according to her lights, to work even–handed justice, and up to this very day believed that the heft of the scales was the true one. Then she fell to a–crying bitterly that her darling Crad should be ousted, and then she laughed as heartily that her dear boy Clayton was in for it.

With timid glances at Mrs. OʼGaghan, like a boyʼs at his schoolmaster, Jane Cripps came in, and told all she knew, saying “please sir”, at every sentence. She had seen at the time Dr. Huttonʼs sketch, which was made without Biddyʼs knowledge, because she never would have allowed it, on account of the bad luck to follow. And Mrs. Cripps was very clever now everything was known. She had felt all along that things went queerly on the third day after the babes were born. She hadmade up her mind to speak at the time, only Mrs. OʼGaghan was such—excuse her—such a disciplinarian, that—that—and then Lady Nowell died, and everything was at sixes and sevens, and no one cried more violent, let them say what they like about it, than she, Jane Penny as had been.

“If Sir Cradock thought further evidence needful, there was Mrs. Bowyer, a most respectable woman, who washed thirty shilling a week, Mrs. Cripps’ first cousin and comate, who had heard at the time all about the drawing, and had not been easy about the scales, and had dreamed of it many times afterwards, as indeed her Aunt Betsy know; and her husband was no man, or he never would have said to her—— ”

By this time the shadows came over the room, and the trees outside were rustling, and you could see them against the amber sunset, like a childʼs scrawling on his horn–book. Volunteers throughout the household longed to give their evidence. Their self–respect for a week would be hostile, if it were not accepted. But Sir Cradock kept the door fastened, till Mrs. OʼGaghan slipped out, and put all the wenches down the steps backwards. Mrs. Toaster alone she durst not touch; but Mrs. Toaster will never forgive her, and never believe the case tried on its merits, because she was not summoned to depose to the loan of the scales.

Ha, so it is in our country, and among the niggers also. When wealth, position, title, even bastardom from princes, even the notoriety whicha first–rate murderer stabs for—when any of these are in question, how we crowd into the witness–box, how we feel the reek of the court an aureola on our temples. But let any poor fellow, noble unknown, an upright man now on the bend with trouble, let him go in to face his creditors, after the uphill fight of years, let him gaze around with work–worn eyes—which of his friends will be there to back him, who will give him testimony?

After all, what matters it except in the score against us? We are bitter with the world, we make a fuss, and feel it fester, we explode in small misanthropy, only because we have not in our heart–sore the true balm of humanity. No longer let our watchword be, “Every man for himself, and God for us all”, but “Every man for God, and so for himself and all”. So may we do away with all illicit process, and return to the primal axiom that “the greater contains the less”.

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