Ravenshoe

  CHAPTER XVI.

  MARSTON'S ARRIVAL.

  The night after the terrible lexicon quarrel, which, you will observe,arose entirely from Charles's good resolution to set to workreading--whereby we should take warning not to be too sanguine of goodresolutions, taken late, bringing forth good fruit--the very evening, Isay, after this fracas, Charles, his father, and Mary, were sitting inthe library together. Of course Densil had heard nothing of thedisturbance, and was, good old gentleman, as happy as you please; allhis elements of pleasure were there. Father Mackworth was absent. FatherTiernay was throwing his whole hearty soul into a splendid copy ofBewick's birds, date 1799. Cuthbert was before the upper fireplace,beyond the pillar, poring over goodness only knows what monkish lore;while close to him was bird Mary sewing, and Charles reading aloud abook, very often quoted in everyday life unconsciously.

  Charles read how Mr. Quilp begged Mr. Brass would take particular careof himself, or he would never forgive him; how there was a dog in thelane who had killed a boy on Tuesday, and bitten a man on Friday; howthe dog lived on the right-hand side, but generally lurked on the left,ready for a spring; and they were laughing over Mr. Brass's horror, whenthere came a noise of wheels on the gravel.

  "That is Marston, father, for a thousand pounds," said Charles.

  He hurried into the hall, as the men were undoing the door; Mary,dropping her work, went after him; and Densil taking his stick, cametoo. Cuthbert looked up from the further end of the room, and then benthis head over his book again. Father Tiernay looked up, inquisitive andinterested, but sat still. They who followed into the hall saw this.

  Charles stood in front of the hall door, and out of the winter'sdarkness came a man, with whom, as Mary once playfully said, she hadfallen in love at once. It was Marston.

  Charles went up to him quickly with both hands out, and said--

  "We are so glad."

  "It is very kind of you. God bless you; how did you know it?"

  "We know nothing, my dear Marston, except that you are welcome. Now putme out of my pain."

  "Why, well," said the other, "I don't know how it has happened: but Ihave got my double first."

  Charles gave a wild cheer, and the others were all on himdirectly--Densil, Tiernay, Cuthbert, and all. Never was such a welcome;not one of them, save Charles, had ever seen him before, yet theywelcomed him as an old friend.

  "You have not been to Ranford, then?" said Charles.

  "Why, no. I did not feel inclined for it after so much work. I must takeit on my way back."

  Lord Saltire's gout was better to-night, and he was downstairs. Heproceeded to remark that, having been in----; well, he wouldn't shockMiss Corby by saying where--for a day or so, he had suddenly, through nomerit of his own, got promoted back into purgatory. That, having foughtagainst the blue devils, and come downstairs, for the sole purpose ofmaking himself disagreeable, he had been rewarded, for that display ofpersonal energy and self-sacrifice, by most unexpectedly meeting a sonof his old friend, Jackdaw Marston. He begged to welcome his oldfriend's son, and to say that, by Jove, he was proud of him. His youngfriend's father had not been a brilliant scholar, as his young friendwas; but had been one of the first whist-players in England. His youngfriend had turned his attention to scholastic honours, in preference towhist, which might or might not be a mistake: though he believed he wascommitting no breach of trust in saying that the position had beenthrust on his young friend from pecuniary motives. Property had aninfernal trick of deteriorating. His own property had not happened todeteriorate (none knew why, for he had given it every chance); but theproperty of his young friend's father having deteriorated in aconfounded rapid sort of way, he must say that it was exceedinglycreditable in his young friend to have made such a decided step towardsbringing matters right again as he had.

  "My father's son, my lord, thanks you for your kind remembrance of hisfather. I have always desired to see and meet my father's old friends,of whom you, Mr. Ravenshoe, were among the kindest. We have given up thegreater vices lately, my lord, but we do our best among the smallerones."

  There was a quiet supper, at which Lord Saltire consented to stay,provided no one used the expression "cheese"; in which case he said heshould have to retire. There wasn't cheese on the table, but there wasmore than cheese; there was scolloped cockles, and Lord Saltire atesome. He said at the time that they would have the same effect on him asswallowing the fire-shovel. But, to relieve your mind at once, I maytell you that they didn't do him any harm at all, and he was as well asever next morning.

  Father Tiernay said grace; and, when the meal was half over, in cameFather Mackworth. Densil said, "Father Mackworth, Mr. Marston;" andMarston said, after a moment's glance at him, "How do you do, sir?"

  Possibly a more courteous form of speaking to a new acquaintance mighthave been used. But Marston had his opinions about Father Mackworth, andhad no objection that the holy father should know them.

  "We got, Mary," said Cuthbert, suddenly, "more cocks than pheasantsto-day. Charles killed five couple, and I four. I was very vexed atbeing beaten by Charles, because I am so much the better shot."

  Charles looked up and met his eyes--a look he never forgot. Accompanyingthe apparent petulance of the remark was a look of love and pity andsorrow. It pleased him, above everything, during the events which wereto come, to-recall that look, and say, "Well, he liked me once."

  That evening Charles and Marston retired to Charles's study (a deal ofstudy had been carried on there, you may depend), and had a long talkover future prospects. Charles began by telling him all about MadamAdelaide, and Marston said, "Oh, indeed! what are you going to do,Charley, boy, to keep her? She comes out of an extravagant house, youknow."

  "I must get called to the bar."

  "Hard work for nothing, for many years, you know."

  "I know. But I won't go into the Church; and what else is there?"

  "Nothing I know of, except billiard marking and steeplechase riding."

  "Then, you approve of it?"

  "I do, most heartily. The work will be good for you. You have workedbefore, and can do it again. Remember how well you got on atShrewsbury."

  Then Charles told him about the relations between himself and FatherMackworth, and what had happened that day.

  "You and he have had disgraceful scenes like this before, haven't you?"

  "Yes, but never so bad as this."

  "He is a very passionate man, isn't he? You took utterly wrong groundsfor what you did to-day. Don't you see that you have no earthly groundsfor what you said, except your own suspicions? The girl's own account ofthe matter seems natural enough. That she was walking with your mostsaint-like brother, and the priest found them, and sent them to theright-about with fleas in their ears."

  "I believe that man to be a great villain," said Charles.

  "So may I," said the other, "but I shan't tell him so till I can proveit. As for that quarrel between William and his sister the night youcame home, that proves nothing, except that she has been going too farwith some one. But who? What have you been doing that empowers him tosay that he will crush you like a moth?"

  "Oh, bravado, I take it! You should have seen how mad he looked when hesaid it."

  "I am glad I did not. Let us talk no more about him; Is that sweetlittle bird Mary Corby?"

  "You know it is."

  "Well, so I do know, but I wanted an excuse for saying the name overagain. Charles, you are a fool."

  "That is such a very novel discovery of yours," said Charles, laughing."What have I been a-doing on now?"

  "Why didn't you fall in love with Mary Corby instead of Madam Adelaide?"

  "I am sure I don't know. Why, I never thought of such a thing as that."

  "Then you ought to have done so. Now go to bed."