CHAPTER XXV
GOING—GOING—GONE!
Six months had gone by since Dandy Chater—(or Philip Chater as hereally was)—stood on trial for his life; and with the turn of theyear, Quist’s Royal Circus and Unparalleled Combination of EquestrianTalent had come again to Bamberton. Judging by the appearance of theCaptain as he sat smoking his pipe on the steps of his caravan, theventure had been so far a profitable one; for the Captain was somewhatrounded and ruddier even than of old.
It was the afternoon of a warm and sunny day, and the Captain wasevidently very well pleased with the day and the world in general andhimself in particular; for he smiled and chuckled over his pipe andgave himself sundry little soft slaps on the leg as though he had somejoke which he greatly relished. Finding presently that it was quiteimpossible to keep the joke to himself, he threw his head back a littleand called softly through the open door of the caravan.
“Missis!”
A muffled voice inside demanded to know what he wanted.
“Where’s them there two turtle-doves?” asked the Captain in a heavywhisper.
A sound as of some one moving in the caravan was heard, and then Mrs.Quist came to the door and stood above him. And Mrs. Quist—grimred-headed female that she was—actually smiled also and kicked CaptainQuist softly in the small of the back.
“Go ’long with yer!” she said laughing. “It’s a pity there shouldn’t besome on ’em as plays the turtle-dove a bit! We ain’t all like youwas—I believe you’d a done _your_ courtin’ through a speakin’ trumpetof you’d ’ad your way—you was that public. An’ I’m sure, considerin’as ’ow they’ve only bin married this mornin’, you might giv’ ’em timeto say a word or two to each other.”
“Ole gal,” responded the Captain solemnly—“w’en I said ‘turtle-doves’it were not to be took sarcastic. I honours ’im for ’is feelin’, an’ Ifairly dotes on ’er blushes.”
Mrs. Quist administered another kick to the Captain but seemed wellpleased.
“You an’ me, ole gal, ’ad not the figger ’eads for beauty w’en we stoodup afore the parson; we might ’ave bin useful in our stations—butthere’s no denyin’ as we was ’omely; pleasant to look upon if yerlike—but ’omely.”
“Well—yer needn’t rub it in,” retorted Mrs. Quist.
“Far be it from me so to do, ole gal. But wot I would say is this ’ere;that it’s a delight for to look on them young ’uns as was married thismornin’. Adam an’ Eve in the garding of Eden a goin’ ’alves with theapple weren’t a prettier picture than ’Arry an’ Clara—take my word ofit.”
“Well Peter—I will say this for yer; that it was a good day’s work foryou w’en you done the ’andsome by them young people. We ’aven’t anychicks of our own—an’ that boy ’as got sich a way with ’osses, that ’ewas fairly born to look arter a circus. An’ the gel—well, I took afancy to that child w’en fust she come to lodge with me at Chelmsford.”
Mrs. Quist, with another friendly kick, returned into the caravan, andthe Captain continued to smoke his pipe. Indeed, so engrossed was hewith the pipe and with his own pleasant reflections, that he did notobserve very closely a figure coming along the road towards him; or ifhe looked at it at all, saw in it merely a chance traveller and noconcern of his. But presently as the figure drew nearer, a remarkablechange came over the Captain. Gradually the hand which held the pipecame away from his mouth, bringing the pipe with it, but leaving themouth open; the placidity of the Captain’s face changed and meltedaway, and in its place came an expression of blank amazement. Then asthe figure came nearer still, amazement fled, and with a shout theCaptain leapt to the ground and ran forward.
“Phil Chater! Phil Chater come back to see ’is old pal!” he exclaimed,shaking the new-comer’s hand again and again.
It was the Philip of six months before, save only for a certainweariness about the eyes and some lines in the face which had not beenthere before. He stopped the Captain with a gesture of his hand whenthat gentleman in his excitement would have summoned Mrs. Quist toshare his joy, and they sat down together on the bank beside the patchof grass on which the caravan stood.
“I wanted to have a chat with you, old friend, before going awayagain,” said Philip after a pause. “So—coming to Bamberton to-day—forthe last time—on business, I thought as I heard that the circus washere that I’d walk over. And how are you prospering?”
“Never better,” replied the Captain rubbing his hands. “Whether it is,Phil, that the experience I gained, so to speak, in a life on therollin’ main is valuable—or wot it is, I don’t know; but certain it isthat they comes to my circus w’erever I ’appens to stop—an’ they clapstheir ’ands to a quite remarkable extent, an’ they laughs at the clownover ’is oldest jokes, min’ yer—things as my poor ole mother used to’ush me ter sleep with—in sich a way that the chap is a beginnin’ togive ’isself airs. You remember the melancholy lookin’ man wot ’auledyou out of the fly that night on this ’ere very road—don’t yer?Well—I do assure you, Phil, that that chap is a gettin’ fat onapplause alone; ’is things ’as bin let out twice in two months.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” said Philip laughing. “And how is Mrs.Quist?”
“Fine—an’ ’earty,” responded the Captain. “More than all she’s abeginnin’ to take an interest in ’osses an’ talks sometimes as if she’dlived over a stable all ’er days. But—now you’ll be surprised to ’earthis, Phil, I know you will—she won’t ’ear of no fat ladies. Puts ’erfoot on ’em, so to speak, I do assure you.”
“Really?” said Philip, hiding a smile. “You surprise me. But now I wantto talk for a moment about myself; for I may not have a chance ofspeaking to you again—at any time.”
The Captain looked at him in dismay. “Why—wot do yer mean, Phil, mylad?” he said.
“Well—to tell you the truth at once—I’m going abroad,” repliedPhilip. “I made a mistake from one point of view in ever coming back atall; I’ve brought endless misery on any number of innocent heads andhave done no good—for I’m poorer than when I came. My unfortunatebrother had practically got rid of everything that could be disposed ofand owed money all the way round. When after my release I came to lookinto affairs, I found—or rather I was advised—that I need not pay asingle penny of his debts; that as they had been contracted by himwhile the property was not his, but mine, as the elder brother, I mightrepudiate everything. But of course I couldn’t do that; I made up mymind to get rid of the place and pay as much as possible of what wasowing.”
“An’ did you?” asked the Captain.
Philip laughed somewhat bitterly. “Why no,” he said. “For I found whenit came to the point of selling that I had nothing to sell; a certainJew money-lender held a mortgage on the place and on every stick itcontained. He’s selling it up to-day, at this very hour. No, oldfriend, the game is played out; and I start the world once more. I haveenough to carry me back to Australia and to give me a little startthere; and I sail in a few days’ time.”
The Captain was evidently very much depressed, for he slowly shook hishead and looked at the ground with a troubled face. Philip Chaterrallyingly clapped him on the shoulder and began to talk of otherthings.
“Come,” he said, “you must have lots of things to talk to me about—andany amount of news for me. There is one thing I should like to knowvery much; what has become of little Clara Siggs?”
As if in answer to the question, the Captain raised his head and softlytouched Philip on the arm. “See there she comes, Phil,” he said, “an’under safe convoy!”
Philip Chater, looking in the same direction, saw advancing towardsthem the girlish form of Clara leaning on the arm of Harry Routley. Hesprang up to meet them and the girl advanced alone.
For a moment there was silence between them; the Captain had drawnapart and was talking with Harry. Then Clara, looking up into Philip’sface, told the end of her story so far as it
could concern him.
“Mr. Chater—I was married this morning—and am the happiest girl onearth. When I tried to tell Harry that I had once in my wild waywardfashion cared for your brother—he would not let me speak; he kissed mylips to silence me. I thought that I should like you to know that I amvery, very happy; that I am with people who are good to me, and whom Ilove and respect, and that whatever mad dream was once in my foolishheart is buried as deep as the brother you never knew in life.”
His heart was too full in that hour of parting to say anything inreply; he held her hand for a moment and then turned towards Harry.
“You thought badly of me once, Harry—and I’m afraid you’ve beenblaming yourself ever since for any trouble you may have caused me.Don’t think of it any more; you, like every one else, were working inthe dark. Now you understand and we part the best of friends—don’t we?”
A little later Philip Chater set off towards Bamberton; somethingseemed to draw him to the place as it had never done before. He knewthat the sale had taken place that day and that Chater Hall was lost tothe Chaters forever; but he had a morbid desire to see it once againthat he might carry away with him the remembrance of the home which hadnever been his, into whatever exile he might be going.
It was almost dark when he traversed that long winding path which hehad once watched as a fugitive through a whole day. But he came at lastto the place and noticed, in the desolation of his heart, that thegreat hall door stood open and that all within seemed blank and empty.
“I wonder who has bought it,” he muttered to himself, “and who willlive here in the years to come.”
There seemed to be no one about, and he walked in and turned into thatroom into which he had first gone on the occasion of his coming toBamberton. And being in the room stopped dead with his heart beatingsuffocatingly; for there was a figure standing in one of the windows.
He knew, even in the semi-darkness of the place, that it was MadgeBarnshaw before she turned her head or spoke; something in the merefact of her being there told him that. He would have given anything notto have met her at that time and in that place; but there was nopossibility of his getting away—for she turned and saw him.
She came quickly towards him and almost before he knew her hand was inhis and she was looking straight into his eyes. “I wanted to see you,”she said slowly. “I waited here—strange as it may seem—in the hopethat you would come.”
“Would it not have been better,” he replied bitterly, “if you had neverseen me at all?”
She shook her head and a smile played for a moment about her lips.“That is an ungenerous thing to say,” she replied. “Surely it is rightthat we should meet here—in your home.”
“Mine no longer,” he said. “It was sold to-day to pay some of the debtsI took upon me when I took the name of Dandy Chater.”
“Well—and do you know who bought it?” she asked almost in a whisper.
Something in her face as she bent nearer to him, still holding hishands, seemed to answer the question without the need of any word fromhim. She went on rapidly.
“When you first came to me, Philip, my heart was full of pity for a manwho had professed his love for me often and often. Fool that I was, Inever saw that a better man stood in his place—spoke with hisvoice—wooed me for his own sake and not because of his dead brother!Philip, you spoke just now of debts you have paid—and I know ofburdens you have borne—for the sake of that brother. Philip”—she camenearer to him in the darkness—“there is another debt you must pay ifyou will, another burden you must bear. You have taken upon yourselfthe name of Dandy Chater, be Dandy Chater still to me—and love me!”
He held her in his arms even while he tried to reason with his heartthat it was not just nor fair. But when she thrust the deeds of thehouse in his hands; when she went upon her knees to him and raised herpure face to his; when she prayed that he would take the place that washis, in his home and in her heart; what could he say?
In effect it was all summed up clearly and fairly that night by Mrs.Betty Siggs in the housekeeper’s room to Mrs. Dolman in a moment ofconfidence.
“The sins as Master Dandy did ’as bin wiped out an’ nothing need besaid about ’em. Mark my words, Mrs. Dolman, the time is coming when anew Dandy Chater is a goin’ to reign at the ’All—a Chater as’ll be asquire in summing more than name! An’ more than that, Mum, there won’tbe no mistakes about this one; for ’e’s my dear boy, an’ there ain’tanother like ’im in the wide world. An’ so, Mum,”—Mrs. Siggs raisedher glass before her smiling face, for they were discussing supper—“Igives yer as a toast—‘The Second Dandy Chater.’”
THE END
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
The author’s original words have been retained, with occasional minorcorrections of punctuation. Because the author used dialect in thebook, this sometimes results in unique spelling of various words andcontractions.
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