The Trumpet-Major

  IX. ANNE IS KINDLY FETCHED BY THE TRUMPET-MAJOR

  After this, Anne would on no account walk in the direction of the hallfor fear of another encounter with young Derriman. In the course of afew days it was told in the village that the old farmer had actually gonefor a week's holiday and change of air to the Royal watering-place nearat hand, at the instance of his nephew Festus. This was a wonderfulthing to hear of Uncle Benjy, who had not slept outside the walls ofOxwell Hall for many a long year before; and Anne well imagined whatextraordinary pressure must have been put upon him to induce him to takesuch a step. She pictured his unhappiness at the bustlingwatering-place, and hoped no harm would come to him.

  She spent much of her time indoors or in the garden, hearing little ofthe camp movements beyond the periodical Ta-ta-ta-taa of the trumpeterssounding their various ingenious calls for watch-setting, stables, feed,boot-and-saddle, parade, and so on, which made her think how clever herfriend the trumpet-major must be to teach his pupils to play those prettylittle tunes so well.

  On the third morning after Uncle Benjy's departure, she was disturbed asusual while dressing by the tramp of the troops down the slope to themill-pond, and during the now familiar stamping and splashing whichfollowed there sounded upon the glass of the window a slight smack, whichmight have been caused by a whip or switch. She listened moreparticularly, and it was repeated.

  As John Loveday was the only dragoon likely to be aware that she slept inthat particular apartment, she imagined the signal to come from him,though wondering that he should venture upon such a freak of familiarity.

  Wrapping herself up in a red cloak, she went to the window, gently drewup a corner of the curtain, and peeped out, as she had done many timesbefore. Nobody who was not quite close beneath her window could see herface; but as it happened, somebody was close. The soldiers whosefloundering Anne had heard were not Loveday's dragoons, but a troop ofthe York Hussars, quite oblivious of her existence. They had passed onout of the water, and instead of them there sat Festus Derriman alone onhis horse, and in plain clothes, the water reaching up to the animal'sbelly, and Festus' heels elevated over the saddle to keep them out of thestream, which threatened to wash rider and horse into the deep mill-headjust below. It was plainly he who had struck her lattice, for in amoment he looked up, and their eyes met. Festus laughed loudly, andslapped her window again; and just at that moment the dragoons beganprancing down the slope in review order. She could not but wait a minuteor two to see them pass. While doing so she was suddenly led to drawback, drop the corner of the curtain, and blush privately in her room.She had not only been seen by Festus Derriman, but by John Loveday, who,riding along with his trumpet slung up behind him, had looked over hisshoulder at the phenomenon of Derriman beneath Anne's bedroom window andseemed quite astounded at the sight.

  She was quite vexed at the conjunction of incidents, and went no more tothe window till the dragoons had ridden far away and she had heardFestus's horse laboriously wade on to dry land. When she looked outthere was nobody left but Miller Loveday, who usually stood in the gardenat this time of the morning to say a word or two to the soldiers, of whomhe already knew so many, and was in a fair way of knowing many more, fromthe liberality with which he handed round mugs of cheering liquorwhenever parties of them walked that way.

  In the afternoon of this day Anne walked to a christening party at aneighbour's in the adjoining parish of Springham, intending to walk homeagain before it got dark; but there was a slight fall of rain towardsevening, and she was pressed by the people of the house to stay over thenight. With some hesitation she accepted their hospitality; but at teno'clock, when they were thinking of going to bed, they were startled by asmart rap at the door, and on it being unbolted a man's form was seen inthe shadows outside.

  'Is Miss Garland here?' the visitor inquired, at which Anne suspended herbreath.

  'Yes,' said Anne's entertainer, warily.

  'Her mother is very anxious to know what's become of her. She promisedto come home.' To her great relief Anne recognized the voice as JohnLoveday's, and not Festus Derriman's.

  'Yes, I did, Mr. Loveday,' said she, coming forward; 'but it rained, andI thought my mother would guess where I was.'

  Loveday said with diffidence that it had not rained anything to speak ofat the camp, or at the mill, so that her mother was rather alarmed.

  'And she asked you to come for me?' Anne inquired.

  This was a question which the trumpet-major had been dreading during thewhole of his walk thither. 'Well, she didn't exactly ask me,' he saidrather lamely, but still in a manner to show that Mrs. Garland hadindirectly signified such to be her wish. In reality Mrs. Garland hadnot addressed him at all on the subject. She had merely spoken to hisfather on finding that her daughter did not return, and received anassurance from the miller that the precious girl was doubtless quitesafe. John heard of this inquiry, and, having a pass that evening,resolved to relieve Mrs. Garland's mind on his own responsibility. Eversince his morning view of Festus under her window he had been on thornsof anxiety, and his thrilling hope now was that she would walk back withhim.

  He shifted his foot nervously as he made the bold request. Anne felt atonce that she would go. There was nobody in the world whose care shewould more readily be under than the trumpet-major's in a case like thepresent. He was their nearest neighbour's son, and she had liked hissingle-minded ingenuousness from the first moment of his return home.

  When they had started on their walk, Anne said in a practical way, toshow that there was no sentiment whatever in her acceptance of hiscompany, 'Mother was much alarmed about me, perhaps?'

  'Yes; she was uneasy,' he said; and then was compelled by conscience tomake a clean breast of it. 'I know she was uneasy, because my fathersaid so. But I did not see her myself. The truth is, she doesn't know Iam come.'

  Anne now saw how the matter stood; but she was not offended with him.What woman could have been? They walked on in silence, the respectfultrumpet-major keeping a yard off on her right as precisely as if thatmeasure had been fixed between them. She had a great feeling of civilitytoward him this evening, and spoke again. 'I often hear your trumpetersblowing the calls. They do it beautifully, I think.'

  'Pretty fair; they might do better,' said he, as one too well-mannered tomake much of an accomplishment in which he had a hand.

  'And you taught them how to do it?'

  'Yes, I taught them.'

  'It must require wonderful practice to get them into the way of beginningand finishing so exactly at one time. It is like one throat doing itall. How came you to be a trumpeter, Mr. Loveday?'

  'Well, I took to it naturally when I was a little boy,' said he, betrayedinto quite a gushing state by her delightful interest. 'I used to maketrumpets of paper, eldersticks, eltrot stems, and even stinging-nettlestalks, you know. Then father set me to keep the birds off that littlebarley-ground of his, and gave me an old horn to frighten 'em with. Ilearnt to blow that horn so that you could hear me for miles and miles.Then he bought me a clarionet, and when I could play that I borrowed aserpent, and I learned to play a tolerable bass. So when I 'listed I waspicked out for training as trumpeter at once.'

  'Of course you were.'

  'Sometimes, however, I wish I had never joined the army. My father gaveme a very fair education, and your father showed me how to draw horses--ona slate, I mean. Yes, I ought to have done more than I have.'

  'What, did you know my father?' she asked with new interest.

  'O yes, for years. You were a little mite of a thing then; and you usedto cry when we big boys looked at you, and made pig's eyes at you, whichwe did sometimes. Many and many a time have I stood by your poor fatherwhile he worked. Ah, you don't remember much about him; but I do!'

  Anne remained thoughtful; and the moon broke from behind the clouds,lighting up the wet foliage with a twinkling brightness, and lending toeach of the trumpet-major's buttons and spurs a little ray of its own.They
had come to Oxwell park gate, and he said, 'Do you like goingacross, or round by the lane?'

  'We may as well go by the nearest road,' said Anne.

  They entered the park, following the half-obliterated drive till theycame almost opposite the hall, when they entered a footpath leading on tothe village. While hereabout they heard a shout, or chorus ofexclamation, apparently from within the walls of the dark buildings nearthem.

  'What was that?' said Anne.

  'I don't know,' said her companion. 'I'll go and see.'

  He went round the intervening swamp of watercress and brooklime which hadonce been the fish-pond, crossed by a culvert the trickling brook thatstill flowed that way, and advanced to the wall of the house. Boisterousnoises were resounding from within, and he was tempted to go round thecorner, where the low windows were, and look through a chink into theroom whence the sounds proceeded.

  It was the room in which the owner dined--traditionally called the greatparlour--and within it sat about a dozen young men of the yeomanrycavalry, one of them being Festus. They were drinking, laughing,singing, thumping their fists on the tables, and enjoying themselves inthe very perfection of confusion. The candles, blown by the breeze fromthe partly opened window, had guttered into coffin handles and shrouds,and, choked by their long black wicks for want of snuffing, gave out asmoky yellow light. One of the young men might possibly have been in amaudlin state, for he had his arm round the neck of his next neighbour.Another was making an incoherent speech to which nobody was listening.Some of their faces were red, some were sallow; some were sleepy, somewide awake. The only one among them who appeared in his usual frame ofmind was Festus, whose huge, burly form rose at the head of the table,enjoying with a serene and triumphant aspect the difference between hisown condition and that of his neighbours. While the trumpet-majorlooked, a young woman, niece of Anthony Cripplestraw, and one of UncleBenjy's servants, was called in by one of the crew, and much against herwill a fiddle was placed in her hands, from which they made her producediscordant screeches.

  The absence of Uncle Benjy had, in fact, been contrived by young Derrimanthat he might make use of the hall on his own account. Cripplestraw hadbeen left in charge, and Festus had found no difficulty in forcing fromthat dependent the keys of whatever he required. John Loveday turned hiseyes from the scene to the neighbouring moonlit path, where Anne stillstood waiting. Then he looked into the room, then at Anne again. It wasan opportunity of advancing his own cause with her by exposing Festus,for whom he began to entertain hostile feelings of no mean force.

  'No; I can't do it,' he said. ''Tis underhand. Let things take theirchance.'

  He moved away, and then perceived that Anne, tired of waiting, hadcrossed the stream, and almost come up with him.

  'What is the noise about?' she said.

  'There's company in the house,' said Loveday.

  'Company? Farmer Derriman is not at home,' said Anne, and went on to thewindow whence the rays of light leaked out, the trumpet-major standingwhere he was. He saw her face enter the beam of candlelight, stay therefor a moment, and quickly withdraw. She came back to him at once. 'Letus go on,' she said.

  Loveday imagined from her tone that she must have an interest inDerriman, and said sadly, 'You blame me for going across to the window,and leading you to follow me.'

  'Not a bit,' said Anne, seeing his mistake as to the state of her heart,and being rather angry with him for it. 'I think it was most natural,considering the noise.'

  Silence again. 'Derriman is sober as a judge,' said Loveday, as theyturned to go. 'It was only the others who were noisy.'

  'Whether he is sober or not is nothing whatever to me,' said Anne.

  'Of course not. I know it,' said the trumpet-major, in accentsexpressing unhappiness at her somewhat curt tone, and some doubt of herassurance.

  Before they had emerged from the shadow of the hall some persons wereseen moving along the road. Loveday was for going on just the same; butAnne, from a shy feeling that it was as well not to be seen walking alonewith a man who was not her lover, said--

  'Mr. Loveday, let us wait here a minute till they have passed.'

  On nearer view the group was seen to comprise a man on a piebald horse,and another man walking beside him. When they were opposite the housethey halted, and the rider dismounted, whereupon a dispute between himand the other man ensued, apparently on a question of money.

  ''Tis old Mr. Derriman come home!' said Anne. 'He has hired that horsefrom the bathing-machine to bring him. Only fancy!'

  Before they had gone many steps further the farmer and his companion hadended their dispute, and the latter mounted the horse and cantered away,Uncle Benjy coming on to the house at a nimble pace. As soon as heobserved Loveday and Anne, he fell into a feebler gait; when they came uphe recognized Anne.

  'And you have torn yourself away from King George's Esplanade so soon,Farmer Derriman?' said she.

  'Yes, faith! I couldn't bide at such a ruination place,' said thefarmer. 'Your hand in your pocket every minute of the day. 'Tis ashilling for this, half-a-crown for that; if you only eat one egg, oreven a poor windfall of an apple, you've got to pay; and a bunch o'radishes is a halfpenny, and a quart o' cider a good tuppencethree-farthings at lowest reckoning. Nothing without paying! I couldn'teven get a ride homeward upon that screw without the man wanting ashilling for it, when my weight didn't take a penny out of the beast.I've saved a penn'orth or so of shoeleather to be sure; but the saddlewas so rough wi' patches that 'a took twopence out of the seat of my bestbreeches. King George hev' ruined the town for other folks. More thanthat, my nephew promised to come there to-morrow to see me, and if I hadstayed I must have treated en. Hey--what's that?'

  It was a shout from within the walls of the building, and Loveday said--

  'Your nephew is here, and has company.'

  'My nephew _here_?' gasped the old man. 'Good folks, will you come up tothe door with me? I mean--hee--hee--just for company! Dear me, Ithought my house was as quiet as a church?'

  They went back to the window, and the farmer looked in, his mouth fallingapart to a greater width at the corners than in the middle, and hisfingers assuming a state of radiation.

  ''Tis my best silver tankards they've got, that I've never used! O! 'tismy strong beer! 'Tis eight candles guttering away, when I've usednothing but twenties myself for the last half-year!'

  'You didn't know he was here, then?' said Loveday.

  'O no!' said the farmer, shaking his head half-way. 'Nothing's known topoor I! There's my best rummers jingling as careless as if 'twas tincups; and my table scratched, and my chairs wrenched out of joint. Seehow they tilt 'em on the two back legs--and that's ruin to a chair! Ah!when I be gone he won't find another old man to make such work with, andprovide goods for his breaking, and house-room and drink for his tear-brass set!'

  'Comrades and fellow-soldiers,' said Festus to the hot farmers and yeomenhe entertained within, 'as we have vowed to brave danger and deathtogether, so we'll share the couch of peace. You shall sleep here to-night, for it is getting late. My scram blue-vinnied gallicrow of anuncle takes care that there shan't be much comfort in the house, but youcan curl up on the furniture if beds run short. As for my sleep, itwon't be much. I'm melancholy! A woman has, I may say, got my heart inher pocket, and I have hers in mine. She's not much--to other folk, Imean--but she is to me. The little thing came in my way, and conqueredme. I fancy that simple girl! I ought to have looked higher--I know it;what of that? 'Tis a fate that may happen to the greatest men.'

  'Whash her name?' said one of the warriors, whose head occasionallydrooped upon his epaulettes, and whose eyes fell together in the casualmanner characteristic of the tired soldier. (It was really Farmer Stubb,of Duddle Hole.)

  'Her name? Well, 'tis spelt, A, N--but, by gad, I won't give ye her namehere in company. She don't live a hundred miles off, however, and shewears the prettiest cap-ribbons you ever saw. Well, well, 'tis
weakness!She has little, and I have much; but I do adore that girl, in spite ofmyself!'

  'Let's go on,' said Anne.

  'Prithee stand by an old man till he's got into his house!' imploredUncle Benjy. 'I only ask ye to bide within call. Stand back under thetrees, and I'll do my poor best to give no trouble.'

  'I'll stand by you for half-an-hour, sir,' said Loveday. 'After that Imust bolt to camp.'

  'Very well; bide back there under the trees,' said Uncle Benjy. 'I don'twant to spite 'em?'

  'You'll wait a few minutes, just to see if he gets in?' said the trumpet-major to Anne as they retired from the old man.

  'I want to get home,' said Anne anxiously.

  When they had quite receded behind the tree-trunks and he stood alone,Uncle Benjy, to their surprise, set up a loud shout, altogether beyondthe imagined power of his lungs.

  'Man a-lost! man a-lost!' he cried, repeating the exclamation severaltimes; and then ran and hid himself behind a corner of the building. Soonthe door opened, and Festus and his guests came tumbling out upon thegreen.

  ''Tis our duty to help folks in distress,' said Festus. 'Man a-lost,where are you?'

  ''Twas across there,' said one of his friends.

  'No! 'twas here,' said another.

  Meanwhile Uncle Benjy, coming from his hiding-place, had scampered withthe quickness of a boy up to the door they had quitted, and slipped in.In a moment the door flew together, and Anne heard him bolting andbarring it inside. The revellers, however, did not notice this, and cameon towards the spot where the trumpet-major and Anne were standing.

  'Here's succour at hand, friends,' said Festus. 'We are all king's men;do not fear us.'

  'Thank you,' said Loveday; 'so are we.' He explained in two words thatthey were not the distressed traveller who had cried out, and turned togo on.

  ''Tis she! my life, 'tis she said Festus, now first recognizing Anne.'Fair Anne, I will not part from you till I see you safe at your own deardoor.'

  'She's in my hands,' said Loveday civilly, though not without firmness,'so it is not required, thank you.'

  'Man, had I but my sword--'

  'Come,' said Loveday, 'I don't want to quarrel. Let's put it to her.Whichever of us she likes best, he shall take her home. Miss Anne,which?'

  Anne would much rather have gone home alone, but seeing the remainder ofthe yeomanry party staggering up she thought it best to secure aprotector of some kind. How to choose one without offending the otherand provoking a quarrel was the difficulty.

  'You must both walk home with me,' she adroitly said, 'one on one side,and one on the other. And if you are not quite civil to one another allthe time, I'll never speak to either of you again.'

  They agreed to the terms, and the other yeomen arriving at this time saidthey would go also as rearguard.

  'Very well,' said Anne. 'Now go and get your hats, and don't be long.'

  'Ah, yes; our hats,' said the yeomanry, whose heads were so hot that theyhad forgotten their nakedness till then.

  'You'll wait till we've got 'em--we won't be a moment,' said Festuseagerly.

  Anne and Loveday said yes, and Festus ran back to the house, followed byall his band.

  'Now let's run and leave 'em,' said Anne, when they were out of hearing.

  'But we've promised to wait!' said the trumpet-major in surprise.

  'Promised to wait!' said Anne indignantly. 'As if one ought to keep sucha promise to drunken men as that. You can do as you like, I shall go.'

  'It is hardly fair to leave the chaps,' said Loveday reluctantly, andlooking back at them. But she heard no more, and flitting off under thetrees, was soon lost to his sight.

  Festus and the rest had by this time reached Uncle Benjy's door, whichthey were discomfited and astonished to find closed. They began toknock, and then to kick at the venerable timber, till the old man's head,crowned with a tasselled nightcap, appeared at an upper window, followedby his shoulders, with apparently nothing on but his shirt, though it wasin truth a sheet thrown over his coat.

  'Fie, fie upon ye all for making such a hullaballoo at a weak old man'sdoor,' he said, yawning. 'What's in ye to rouse honest folks at thistime o' night?'

  'Hang me--why--it's Uncle Benjy! Haw--haw--haw?' said Festus. 'Nunc,why how the devil's this? 'Tis I--Festus--wanting to come in.'

  'O no, no, my clever man, whoever you be!' said Uncle Benjy in a tone ofincredulous integrity. 'My nephew, dear boy, is miles away at quarters,and sound asleep by this time, as becomes a good soldier. That storywon't do to-night, my man, not at all.'

  'Upon my soul 'tis I,' said Festus.

  'Not to-night, my man; not to-night! Anthony, bring my blunderbuss,'said the farmer, turning and addressing nobody inside the room.

  'Let's break in the window-shutters,' said one of the others.

  'My wig, and we will!' said Festus. 'What a trick of the old man!'

  'Get some big stones,' said the yeomen, searching under the wall.

  'No; forbear, forbear,' said Festus, beginning to be frightened at thespirit he had raised. 'I forget; we should drive him into fits, for he'ssubject to 'em, and then perhaps 'twould be manslaughter. Comrades, wemust march! No, we'll lie in the barn. I'll see into this, take my wordfor 't. Our honour is at stake. Now let's back to see my beauty home.'

  'We can't, as we hav'n't got our hats,' said one of hisfellow-troopers--in domestic life Jacob Noakes, of Muckleford Farm.

  'No more we can,' said Festus, in a melancholy tone. 'But I must go toher and tell her the reason. She pulls me in spite of all.'

  'She's gone. I saw her flee across park while we were knocking at thedoor,' said another of the yeomanry.

  'Gone!' said Festus, grinding his teeth and putting himself into a rigidshape. 'Then 'tis my enemy--he has tempted her away with him! But I ama rich man, and he's poor, and rides the King's horse while I ride myown. Could I but find that fellow, that regular, that common man, Iwould--'

  'Yes?' said the trumpet-major, coming up behind him.

  'I,'--said Festus, starting round,--'I would seize him by the hand andsay, "Guard her; if you are my friend, guard her from all harm!"'

  'A good speech. And I will, too,' said Loveday heartily.

  'And now for shelter,' said Festus to his companions.

  They then unceremoniously left Loveday, without wishing him good-night,and proceeded towards the barn. He crossed the park and ascended thedown to the camp, grieved that he had given Anne cause of complaint, andfancying that she held him of slight account beside his wealthier rival.