VOLUME II.
CHAPTER XIII.
AT LITTLE ALRESFORD.
Mr Hall was a pleasant English gentleman, now verging upon seventyyears of age, who had "never had a headache in his life," as he waswont to boast, but who lived very carefully, as one who did notintend to have many headaches. He certainly did not intend to makehis head ache by the cares of the work of the world. He was very welloff;--that is to say, that with so many thousands a year, he managedto live upon half. This he had done for very many years, becausethe estate was entailed on a distant relative, and because he hadnot chosen to leave his children paupers. When the girls came heimmediately resolved that he would never go up to London,--and kepthis resolve. Not above once in three or four years was it supposed tobe necessary that he showed his head to a London hairdresser. He wasquite content to have a practitioner out from Alresford, and to payhim one shilling, including the journey. His tenants in these badtimes had always paid their rents, but they had done so becausetheir rents had not been raised since the squire had come to thethrone. Mr Hall knew well that if he was anxious to save himself fromheadaches in that line, he had better let his lands on easy terms. Hewas very hospitable, but he never gave turtle from London, or fishfrom Southampton, or strawberries or peas on the first of April. Hecould give a dinner without champagne, and thought forty shillingsa dozen price enough for port or sherry, or even claret. He kept acarriage for his four daughters, and did not tell all the world thatthe horses spent a fair proportion of their time at the plough. Thefour daughters had two saddle-horses between them, and the father hadanother for his own use. He did not hunt,--and living in that partof Hampshire, I think he was right. He did shoot after the mannerof our forefathers;--would go out, for instance, with Mr Blake, andperhaps Mr Whittlestaff, and would bring home three pheasants, fourpartridges, a hare, and any quantity of rabbits that the cook mighthave ordered. He was a man determined on no account to live beyondhis means; and was not very anxious to seem to be rich. He was a manof no strong affections, or peculiarly generous feelings. Those whoknew him, and did not like him, said that he was selfish. They whowere partial to him declared that he never owed a shilling that hecould not pay, and that his daughters were very happy in having sucha father. He was a good-looking man, with well-formed features, butone whom you had to see often before you could remember him. And asI have said before, he "never had a headache in his life." "Whenyour father wasn't doing quite so well with the bank as his friendswished, he asked me to do something for him. Well; I didn't see myway."
"I was a boy then, and I heard nothing of my father's business."
"I dare say not; but I cannot help telling you. He thought Iwas unkind. I thought that he would go on from one trouble toanother;--and he did. He quarrelled with me, and for years wenever spoke. Indeed I never saw him again. But for the sake of oldfriendship, I am very glad to meet you." This he said, as he waswalking across the hall to the drawing-room.
There Gordon met the young ladies with the clergyman, and had toundergo the necessary introductions. He thought that he couldperceive at once that his story, as it regarded Mary Lawrie, hadbeen told to all of them. Gordon was quick, and could learn from themanners of his companions what had been said about him, and couldperceive that they were aware of something of his story. Blake had nosuch quickness, and could attribute none of it to another. "I am veryproud to have the pleasure of making you acquainted with these fiveyoung ladies." As he said this he had just paused in his narrativeof Mr Whittlestaff's love, and was certain that he had changed theconversation with great effect. But the young ladies were unable notto look as young ladies would have looked when hearing the story ofan unfortunate gentleman's love. And Mr Blake would certainly havebeen unable to keep such a secret.
"This is Miss Hall, and this is Miss Augusta Hall," said the father."People do think that they are alike."
"Oh, papa, what nonsense! You needn't tell Mr Gordon that."
"No doubt he would find it out without telling," continued thefather.
"I can't see it, for the life of me," said Mr Blake. He evidentlythought that civility demanded such an assertion. Mr Gordon, lookingat the two young ladies, felt that he would never know them apartthough he might live in the house for a year.
"Evelina is the third," continued Mr Hall, pointing out the one whomMr Blake had specially recommended to his friend's notice. "Evelinais not quite so like, but she's like too."
"Papa, what nonsense you do talk!" said Evelina.
"And this is Mary. Mary considers herself to be quite the hope of thefamily; _spem gregis_. Ha, ha!"
"What does _spem gregis_ mean? I'm sure I don't know," said Mary.The four young ladies were about thirty, varying up from thirty tothirty-five. They were fair-haired, healthy young women, with goodcommon-sense, not beautiful, though very like their father.
"And now I must introduce you to Miss Forrester,--Kattie Forrester,"said Mr Blake, who was beginning to think that his own young ladywas being left out in the cold.
"Yes, indeed," said Mr Hall. "As I had begun with my own, I wasobliged to go on to the end. Miss Forrester--Mr Gordon. MissForrester is a young lady whose promotion has been fixed in theworld."
"Mr Hall, how can you do me so much injury as to say that? You takeaway from me the chance of changing my mind."
"Yes," said the oldest Miss Hall; "and Mr Gordon the possibility ofchanging his. Mr Gordon, what a sad thing it is that Mr Harbottleshould never have had an opportunity of seeing his old parish onceagain."
"I never knew him," said Gordon.
"But he had been here nearly fifty years. And then to leave theparish without seeing it any more. It's very sad when you look at itin that light."
"He has never resided here permanently for a quarter of a century,"said Mr Blake.
"Off and on in the summer time," said Augusta. "Of course he couldnot take much of the duty, because he had a clergyman's throat. Ithink it a great pity that he should have gone off so suddenly."
"Miss Forrester won't wish to have his _resurgam_ sung, I warrantyou," said Mr Hall.
"I don't know much about _resurgams_," said the young lady, "but Idon't see why the parish shall not be just as well in Mr Blake'shands." Then the young bride was taken away by the four elder ladiesto dress, and the gentlemen followed them half an hour afterwards.
They were all very kind to him, and sitting after dinner, Mr Hallsuggested that Mr Whittlestaff and Miss Lawrie should be asked overto dine on the next day. John Gordon had already promised to stayuntil the third, and had made known his intention of going back toSouth Africa as soon as he could arrange matters. "I've got nothingto keep me here," he said, "and as there is a good deal of money atstake, I should be glad to be there as soon as possible."
"Oh, come! I don't know about your having nothing to keep youhere," said Blake. But as to Mr Hall's proposition regarding theinhabitants of Croker's Lodge, Gordon said nothing. He could notobject to the guests whom a gentleman might ask to his own house; buthe thought it improbable that either Mr Whittlestaff or Mary shouldcome. If he chose to appear and to bring her with him, it must be hisown look-out. At any rate he, Gordon, could say and could do nothingon such an occasion. He had been betrayed into telling his secret tothis garrulous young parson. There was no help for spilt milk; but itwas not probable that Mr Blake would go any further, and he at anyrate must be content to bear the man's society for one other evening."I don't see why you shouldn't manage to make things pleasant evenyet," said the parson. But to this John Gordon made no reply.
In the evening some of the sisters played a few pieces at the piano,and Miss Forrester sang a few songs. Mr Hall in the meantime wentfast asleep. John Gordon couldn't but tell himself that his eveningsat Kimberley were, as a rule, quite as exciting. But then KattieForrester did not belong to him, and he had not found himself ableas yet to make a choice between the young ladies. It was, however,interesting to see the manner in which the new vicar hung about thelady of his love, and the evident but i
nnocent pride with which sheaccepted the attentions of her admirer.
"Don't you think she's a beautiful girl?" said Blake, comingto Gordon's room after they had all retired to bed; "suchgenuine wit, and so bright, and her singing, you know, is quiteperfect,--absolutely just what it ought to be. I do know somethingabout singing myself, because I've had all the parish voices under myown charge for the last three years. A practice like that goes a longway, you know." To this Mr Gordon could only give that assent whichsilence is intended to imply. "She'll have L5000 at once, you know,which does make her in a manner equal to either of the Miss Halls. Idon't quite know what they'll have, but not more than that, I shouldthink. The property is entailed, and he's a saving man. But if he canhave put by L20,000, he has done very well; don't you think so?"
"Very well indeed."
"I suppose I might have had one of them; I don't mind telling you instrictest confidence. But, goodness gracious, after I had once seenKattie Forrester, there was no longer a doubt. I wish you'd tell mewhat you think about her."
"About Miss Forrester?"
"You needn't mind speaking quite openly to me. I'm that sort offellow that I shouldn't mind what any fellow said. I've formed myown ideas, and am not likely to change them. But I should liketo hear, you know, how she strikes a fellow who has been at thediamond-fields. I cannot imagine but that you must have a differentidea about women to what we have." Then Mr Blake sat himself down inan arm-chair at the foot of the bed, and prepared himself to discussthe opinion which he did not doubt that his friend was about todeliver.
"A very nice young woman indeed," said John Gordon, who was anxiousto go to bed.
"Ah, you know,--that's a kind of thing that anybody can say. Thereis no real friendship in that. I want to know the true candidopinion of a man who has travelled about the world, and has beenat the diamond-fields. It isn't everybody who has been at thediamond-fields," continued he, thinking that he might thereby flatterhis friend.
"No, not everybody. I suppose a young woman is the same there ashere, if she have the same natural gifts. Miss Forrester would bepretty anywhere."
"That's a matter of course. Any fellow can see that with half an eye.Absolutely beautiful, I should say, rather than pretty."
"Just so. It's only a variation in terms, you know."
"But then her manner, her music, her language, her wit, and thecolour of her hair! When I remember it all, I think I'm the luckiestfellow in the world. I shall be a deal happier with her than withAugusta Hall. Don't you think so? Augusta was the one intended forme; but, bless you, I couldn't look at her after I had seen KattieForrester. I don't think you've given me your true unbiassed opinionyet."
"Indeed I have," said John Gordon.
"Well; I should be more free-spoken than that, if you were to askme about Mary Lawrie. But then, of course, Mary Lawrie is not yourengaged one. It does make a difference. If it does turn out that shemarries Mr Whittlestaff, I shan't think much of her, I can tell youthat. As it is, as far as looks are concerned, you can't compare herto my Kattie."
"Comparisons are odious," said Gordon.
"Well, yes; when you are sure to get the worst of them. You wouldn'tthink comparisons odious if you were going to marry Kattie, and itwas my lot to have Mary Lawrie. Well, yes; I don't mind going to bednow, as you have owned so much as that."
"Of all the fools," said Gordon to himself, as he went to his ownchamber,--"of all the fools who were ever turned out in the world toearn their own bread, he is the most utterly foolish. Yet he willearn his bread, and will come to no especial grief in the work. Ifhe were to go out to Kimberley, no one would pay him a guinea a-week.But he will perform the high work of a clergyman of the Church ofEngland indifferently well."
On the next morning a messenger was sent over to Croker's Hall, andcame back after due lapse of time with an answer to the effect thatMr Whittlestaff and Miss Lawrie would have pleasure in dining thatday at Little Alresford Park. "That's right," said Mr Blake to thelady of his love. "We shall now, perhaps, be able to put the thinginto a proper groove. I'm always very lucky in managing such matters.Not that I think that Gordon cares very much about the young lady,judging from what he says of her."
"Then I don't see why you should interest yourself."
"For the young lady's sake. A lady always prefers a young gentlemanto an old one. Only think what you'd feel if you were married to MrWhittlestaff."
"Oh, Montagu! how can you talk such nonsense?"
"I don't suppose you ever would, because you are not one of thosesort of young ladies. I don't suppose that Mary Lawrie likes itherself; and therefore I'd break the match off in a moment if Icould. That's what I call good-natured."
After lunch they all went off to the Rookery, which was at the otherside of the park from Gar Wood. It was a beautiful spot, lying atthe end of the valley, through which they had to get out from theircarriage, and to walk for half a mile. Only for the sake of doinghonour to Miss Forrester, they would have gone on foot. But as itwas, they had all the six horses among them. Mr Gordon was put upon one of the young ladies' steeds, the squire and the parson eachhad his own, and Miss Evelina was also mounted, as Mr Blake hadsuggested, perhaps with the view to the capture of Mr Gordon. "Asit's your first day," whispered Mr Blake to Kattie, "it is so nice,I think, that the carriage and horses should all come out. Of coursethere is nothing in the distance, but there should be a respect shownon such an occasion. Mr Hall does do everything of this kind just asit should be."
"I suppose you know the young lady who is coming here to-night," saidEvelina to Mr Gordon.
"Oh, yes; I knew her before I went abroad."
"But not Mr Whittlestaff?"
"I had never met Mr Whittlestaff, though I had heard much of hisgoodness."
"And now they are to be married. Does it not seem to you to be veryhard?"
"Not in the least. The young lady seems to have been left by herfather and step-mother without any engagement, and, indeed, withoutany provision. She was brought here, in the first place, from sheercharity, and I can certainly understand that when she was here MrWhittlestaff should have admired her."
"That's a matter of course," said Evelina.
"Mr Whittlestaff is not at all too old to fall in love with anyyoung lady. This is a pretty place,--a very lovely spot. I think Ilike it almost better than Gar Wood." Then there was no more saidabout Mary Lawrie till they all rode back to dinner.