Produced by Giovanni Fini, Shaun Pinder and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) CRADOCK NOWELL A Tale of the New Forest. BY _RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE_, AUTHOR OF âCLARA VAUGHAN.â âYou have said: whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.â AS YOU LIKE IT, Act III. Sc. 2. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1866. [_The right of Translation is reserved._] LONDON: PRINTED BY C. WHITING, BEAUFORT HOUSE, STRAND. CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. CHAPTER PAGE I. 1 II. 35 III. 52 IV. 72 V. 91 VI. 111 VII. 128 VIII. 147 IX. 172 X. 190 XI. 217 XII. 236 XIII. 245 XIV. 253 XV. 274 XVI. 287 XVII. 300 CRADOCK NOWELL CHAPTER I. It was a Tuesday evening when Cradock Nowell and Amy Rosedew signed and sealed, with the moonÊ¼s approval, their bond to one another. On the following day, Dr. Hutton and wife were to dine at Kettledrum Hall; and the distance being considerable, and the roads so shockingly badââeven dangerous, I am told, to gentlemen who have dined _with me_, sir,â said Kettledrum, in his proudest mannerâthey had accepted his offer, and that of Mrs. Kettledrum, which she herself came over to make, that they should not think of returning until after breakfast on Thursday. In consequence of her husbandÊ¼s hints, Rosa felt the keenest interest in âthat Mrs. Kettledrum. Leave her to me, dear Rufus. You need not be afraid, indeed. Trust me to get to the bottom of it.â And so she exerted her probing skill upon her to the uttermost, more even than ladies usually do, when they first meet one another. Of course, there was no appearance of it, nothing so illâbred as that; it was all the sweetest refinement, and the kindest neighbourly interest. They even became affectionate in the course of half an hour, and mutual confidence proved how strangely their tastes were in unison. Nevertheless, each said goodâbye with a firm conviction that she had outwitted the other. âPoor thing, she was so stupid. What a bungler, to be sure! And to think I could not see through her!â But the returnâmatch between these ladies, which was to have come off at Kettledrum Hallâwhere, byâtheâby, there appeared a far greater performer than either of themâthis interesting display of skill was deferred for the present; inasmuch as Rosa was taken ill during the mysteries of her toilet. It was nothing more serious, however, than the âflying spasms,â as she always called them, to which she had long been subject, and which (as she often told her husband) induced her to marry a doctor. Rufus administered essence of peppermint, and then a dose of magnesia; but he would not hear of her coming with him, and he wanted to stop at home with her, and see that she sat by the fire. She in turn would have her way, and insisted that Rue should go, âfor he had made himself such a very smart boy, that she was really quite proud of him, and they would all be so disappointed, and he was taller than Mr. Kettledrum, she felt quite sure he was.â The bearing of that last argument I do not quite perceive, but dare not say that she erred therein, and to Rue it was quite conclusive. So Ralph Mohorn was sent for, the ponyâcarriage countermanded, and Rufus set forth upon Polly, whose oats were now restricted. Kettledrum Hall stood forth on a rise, and made the very most of itself. Expansive, and free, and obtrusively honest, it seemed to strike itself on the breast (as its master did) with both gables. A parochial assessment committee, or a surveyor for the propertyâtax, would have stuck on something considerable, if they had only seen the outside of it. Look at the balustrade that went (for it was too heavy to run) all along the front of it, over the basement windows. No stucco, either; but stone, genuine stone, that bellied out like a row of Roman amphorÃ¦, or the calves of a firstârate footman. After that, to see the portico, âdecempedis metata,â which âexcipiebat Eurumâânot Arcton in this climate. No wonderâalthough it was rotten inside, and the whole of it mortgaged ten fathom deepâthat Bailey Kettledrum hit his breast, and said, âOur little home, sir!â âYour great home, you mean,â said Rufus; âwhat a noble situation! You can see all over the county.â They had come to meet him down the hill, in the kindest country fashion, Mr. and Mrs. Kettledrum, like Jack and Jill going for water. âNot quite that,â replied Kettledrum; âbut we saw you with my binocular, between two and three miles off, and became so anxious about Mrs. Hutton, that I said to my wife, âPut your bonnet on;â and she only said, âBailey, put your hat on;â nothing more, sir, I assure you; nothing more, sir, upon my honour.â Rufus could not see exactly why there should have been anything more, but he could not help thanking them for their kindness, and saying to himself, âWhat nice people! Quite an agricultural life, I see, in spite of that grand mansion.â âNow,â said Mr. Kettledrum, when Polly had been committed to one of the stableâboysâbut Rufus still wanted to look at her, for he never grew tired of admiring anything that belonged to him, and he knew they wouldnÊ¼t do her legs rightâânow, Dr. Hutton, you have come most kindly, according to your promise, so as to give us an hour or two to spare before the dinnerâtime. Shall we take a turn with the guns? I can put my hand on a covey; or shall we walk round the garden, and have the benefit of your advice?â Rufus looked in dismay at his âchoice black kerseymeres;â he had taken his âantigropelosâ off, and was proud to find not a flake on them. But to think of going out shooting! He ought not to have dressed before he left home, but he hated many skinnings. And he could only guess the distance from the lodge to this place. So he voted very decidedly for a walk in the kitchenâgarden. Into this he was solemnly instituted, and the beauties all pointed out to him. What a scene of weeds and rubbish! How different from Bull GarnetÊ¼s dainty and trim quarters, or from his own new style of work at Geopharmacy Lodge! Rotten beansticks crackling about, the scum of last summerÊ¼s cabbages, toadâstools cropping up like warts or arums rubbed with caustic, a fine smell of potatoâdisease, and a general sense of mildew; the wallâtrees curled and frizzled up with aphis, coccus, and honeydew; and the standards scraggy, and full of stubs, canker, and American blight, sprawling, slouching, humpâbacked, and stagâheaded, like the sick ward of a workhouse fighting with tattered umbrellas. âAh,â said Rufus, at his witsâ end for anything to praise, âwhat a perfect paradiseâfor the songsters of the grove.â âOh,â replied Mr. Kettledrum, âyou should hear the Dook admire it. âKettledrum, my boy,â he said, when he dined with me last Friday, âthere is one thing I do envy youâno, sir, neither your most ladyâlike wife, nor yet your clever children, although I admit that neither of them can be paralleled in Englandâbut, Kettledrum, it isâforgive meâit is your kitchenâgarden.â âMy kitchenâgarden, your grace,â I replied, for I hate to brag of anything, âit is a poor thing, my lord Dook, compared to your own at Lionshill.â âMay I be dâd,â his grace replied, for I never shall break him of swearing, âif I ever saw anything like it, dear Kettledrum, and so I told the Duchess.â And after all, you know, Dr. Hutton, a man may think too little of what it has pleased God to give him.â âWell,â said Rufus to himself, âIÊ¼m blessed if _you_ do. But I donÊ¼t like you any the worse for a bit of brag. I have met great brags in India, and most of them honest fellows. But I must peg him down a bit. I must, I fear; it is my duty as an enlightened gardener.â âBut you see, now,â said Bailey Kettledrum, smacking his lips, and gazing into profundity, âyou see, my dear sir, there is nothing âab omni parte beatum;â perhaps you remember the passage in the heroic epistles ofâah, Cicero it was, I believe, who wrote all those epistles to somebody.â âNo doubt of it,â said Rufus Hutton, who knew more of Hindustani than of Latin and Greek combined; âand yet St. Paul wrote some.â âNot in Latin, my dear sir; all St. PaulÊ¼s were Greek. âNihil est,â I now remember, âab omni parte beatum.â I donÊ¼t know how it scans, which I suppose it ought to do, but that isnÊ¼t my lookâout. Perhaps, however, you can tell me?â âIÊ¼m blowed if I can,â said Rufus Hutton, in the honesty of his mind; âand I am not quite sure that it has any right to scan.â âWell, I canÊ¼t say; but I _think_ it ought,ââhe was in the mists of memory, where most of the trees have sensitive roots, though the branches are not distinguishable. âHowever, that canÊ¼t matter at all; I see you are a classical scholar. And, Hutton, I like a classical scholar, because he can understand me. But you see that these trees are ratherâah, what is the expression for itââ?â âCankered, and scabby, and scrubs.â âThat is to sayâyes, I suppose, they would crop the better, if that be possible, for a little rootâpruning.â âYou have gathered the fruit for this year, I presume?â âWell, no, not quite that. The children have had some, of course. But we are very particular not to store too early.â âI really donÊ¼t think you need be.â âWhy, many people say, âlet well alone;â but my gardener talks of makingâââ âA jolly good bonfire of them, if he knows anything of his business. Then drain the ground, trench, and plant new ones.â Mr. Kettledrum looked quite thunderstruck; he caught hold of a tree to help him, and a great cake of rotten bark, bearded with moss, came away like the mask of a mummer. It was slimy on the under side, and two of his fingers went through it. âNice state of things,â said Rufus, laughing. âI suppose the Dook likes lepers?â âWhy, my dear sir, you donÊ¼t mean to sayâââ âThat I would leave only one of them, and I would hang the headâgardener upon it.â That worthy was just coming round the corner, to obtain the applause of a gentleman well known to the _GardenerÊ¼s Chronicle_; but now he turned round abruptly, and scratched his head, and thought of his family. When Rufus came down and entered the drawingâroom, he was perfectly gorgeous; for although he had been in full dress for the main, he knew better than to ride with his Alumbaggah waistcoat on. There was nothing in all the three presidencies to come up to that waistcoat. It would hold Dr. Hutton and Rosa too, for they had stood back to back and tried it. And Rufus vainly sighed for the day when his front should come out and exhaust it. He stole it, they say, from a petty rajah, who came to a great durbar with it, worn like an Oxford hood. At any rate, there it was, and the back of Cashmere stuff would fit either baby or giant. But the front, the frontâoh, bangles and jiminy! it is miles beyond me to describe it. All simple writers, from Job and Hesiod downwards, convey an impression of some grand marvel, not by direct description of it, which would be feeble and achromatic, but by the rebound, recoil, and redouble, from the judgment of some eyeâwitness. If that eyeâwitness be selfâpossessed, wideâawake, experienced, and undemonstrative, the effect upon the readerÊ¼s mind is as of a shell which has struck the granite, burst there, and scattered back on him. So will I, mistrusting the value of my own impressions, give a faint idea of Rufus his waistcoat, by the dount of it on that assembly. The host was away for the moment somewhere, perhaps blowing up the butler, for his wife was telling her sister how nervous and even fidgety her beloved Bailey was growing; but Mr. Corklemore was there, and came forth to salute the great Rufus, when his heavy eyes settled upon the waistcoat, and all his emotions exploded in a âhawâ of incredulous wonder. Mrs. Kettledrum rose at the same instant, and introduced her sister. âMy sister, Dr. Hutton, whom I have so earnestly longed to make acquainted with dear Mrs. Hutton, Mrs. Nowell Corklemore; Mr. Corklemore, I know, has had the pleasure of meeting you. Georgie, dear, you will like her soâoh, goodness gracious me!â âI donÊ¼t wonder you are surprised at me, Anna,â exclaimed Mrs. Corklemore, with wonderful presence of mind. âHow stupid I am, to be sure! Oh, Nowell, why didnÊ¼t you tell me? How shameful of you! But you never look at me now, I think.â And she swept from the room in the cleverest manner, as if something wrong in her own dress had caused her sisterÊ¼s ejaculation. âExcuse me one moment,â said Mrs. Kettledrum, taking her cue very aptly; and she ran out, as if to aid her sister, but in reality to laugh herself into hysterics. After all there was nothing absurd, _per se_, in Rufus HuttonÊ¼s waistcoat, only it is not the fashion, just at present, to wear pictorial raiment; but the worthy doctor could not perceive any reason why it should not be. He was pleased with the prospect of creating a genuine sensation, and possibly leading the mode; and having lost all chance of realizing these modest hopes at Nowelhurst, why, he must content himself with a narrower stage for his triumphs. He had smuggled it from home, however, without his wifeÊ¼s permission: he had often threatened her with its appearance, but she always thought he was joking. And truly it required some strength of mind to present it to modern society, although it was a work of considerable art, and no little value. The material of it was Indian silk of the very richest quality. It had no buttons, but golden eyelets and tags of golden cowries. The background of the whole was yellow, the foreground of a brilliant green, portraying the plants of the jungle. On the left bosom leaped and roared an enormous royal tiger, with two splendid jewels, called âcatÊ¼sâeyes,â flashing, and a pearl for every fang. Upon the right side a hulking elephant was turning tail ignominiously; while two officers in the howdah poked their guns at the eyes of the tiger. The eyes of the officers in their terror had turned to brilliant emeralds, and the blood of the tramping elephant was represented by seed rubies. The mahout was cutting away in the distance, looking back with eyes of diamonds. Beyond a doubt, it required uncommonly fine breeding, especially in a lady, to meet that waistcoat at a dinnerâparty, and be entirely unconscious of it. And perhaps there are but few women in England who would not contrive to lead up to the subject, quite accidentally, of course, before the evening was over. The ladies came back as grave as judges; and somehow it was managed (as if by the merest oversight) that Dr. Hutton should lead to dinner, not the lady of the house, whom, of course, he ought to have taken, but Mrs. Nowell Corklemore. He felt, as he crossed the hall with her, that the beauty of his waistcoat had raised some artistic emotion in a bosom as beautiful as its own. Oh, Rufus, think of Rosa! Let none be alarmed at those ominous words. The tale of Cradock NowellÊ¼s life shall be pure as that life itself was. The historian may be rough, and blunt, and sometimes too intense, in the opinion of those who look at life from a different point of view. But be that as it will, his other defects (I trust and pray) will chiefly be deficiencies. We will have no poetical seduction, no fascinating adultery, condemned and yet reprieved by the writer, and infectious from his sympathy. Georgiana Corklemore was an uncommonly clever woman, and was never known to go far enough to involve her reputation. She loved her child, and liked her husband, and had all the respect for herself which may abide with vanity. Nevertheless she flirted awfully, and all married women hated her. âBold thing,â they called her, âsly goodâforânothing; and did you see how she ogled? Well, if I only carried on so! Oh, if I were only her husband! But, poor man, he knows no better. Such a poor dear stick, you know. Perhaps that is what makes her do it. And nothing in her at all, when you come to think of it. No taste, no style, no elegance! When _will_ she put her back hair up? And her child fit to put into longâclothes! Did you observe her odious way of putting her lips up, as if to be kissed? My dear, I donÊ¼t know how _you_ felt; but I could scarcely stay in the room with her.â Nevertheless the ladies did stay, and took good care to watch her, and used to say to her afterwards, âOh, if I were only like you, dear! Then I need not be afraid of you; but you areânow donÊ¼t tell storiesâ_so_ clever, and _so_ attractive. As if you did not know it, dear! Well, you _are_ so simpleâminded. I am always telling my Looey and Maggie to take you for their model, dear!â On the present occasion, âGeorgie Corklemore,â as she called herself, set about flirting with Rufus Hutton, not from her usual love of power, nor even for the sake of his waistcoat, but because she had an especial purpose, and a very important one. The KettledrumâcumâCorklemore conspiracy was thisâto creep in once more at Nowelhurst Hall through the interest of Dr. Hutton. They all felt perfectly certain that Cradock Nowell had murdered his brother, and that the crime had been hushed up through the influence of the family. They believed that the head of that family, in his passionate sorrow and anger, might be brought to their view of the subject, if he could only be handled properly; and who could manage that more adroitly than his first cousin once removed, the beautiful Mrs. Corklemore? Only let her get once invited, once inducted there, and the main difficulty after that would be to apportion the prey between them. They knew well enough that the old entail expired with the present baronet; and that he (before his marriage) held in fee pure and simple all that noble property. His marriageâsettlement, and its effects, they could only inkle of; but their heart was inditing of a good matter, and Mr. Chope would soon pump Brockwood. Not quite so fast, my Amphictyonics; a solicitor thirty years admitted (though his original craft may not be equal) is not to be sucked dry, on the surprise, even by spongy young Chope. However, that was a question for later consideration; and blood being thicker than water, and cleaving more fast to the ground, they felt that it would be a frightful injustice if they were done out of the property. Only two things need be added: one that Sir Cradock had always disliked, and invited them but for appearanceâ sake; the other, that they fairly believed in the righteousness of their cause, and that Rufus Hutton could prove it for them, as the principal witness tampered with. Mrs. Corklemore was now, perhaps, twentyâfive years old, possibly turning thirty; for that lustrum of a ladyÊ¼s life is a hard one to beat the bounds of; at any rate, she had never looked better than she did at the present moment. She was just at the age to spread open, with the memory of shyness upon them (like the dew when the sun is up), the curving petals of beauty. Who understands the magnetic current? Who can analyze ozone? Is there one of us able to formularize the polarity of light? Will there ever be an age when chemists metaphysical will weighâno more by troy weight, and carat, as now the mode is, but by subtle heartâgasâour liking for a woman? Let us hope there never will be. That soft Georgiana Corklemore, so lively, lovely, and gushing, focussed all her fascinations upon Rufus Hutton. She knew that she had to deal with a man of much inborn acuteness, and who must have seen a hundred ladies quite as fair as Georgie. But had he seen one with herâwell, she knew not what to call it, though she thoroughly knew how to use it? So she magnetized him with all her skill; and Rufus, shrewdly suspecting her object, and confiding in a certain triarian charge, a certain thrust Jarnacian, which he would deliver at the proper moment, allowed her to smile, and to show her white teeth and dimples of volatile velvet (so natural, so inevitable, at his playful, delightful humour), and to loose whole quiverfuls of light shafts from the arch flash under her eyelids. What sweet simplicity she was, what innocent desire to learn, what universal charity. âHow dreadful, Dr. Hutton! Oh, please not to tell me of it! How could any ladies do it? I should have fainted at once, and died half an hour afterwards.â She turned up her large mild eyes, deeply beaming with centralized light, in a way that said, âIf I died, is there any one who would think it a very, very great pity?â Rufus had been describing historically, not dramatically, the trials of the ladies, when following their regiment during a sudden movement in the perils of the mutiny. With a manÊ¼s far stiffer identity, he did not expect or even imagine that his delicate listener would be there, and go through every hour of it. But so it was, and without any sham; although she was misusing her strange sympathetic power. Mrs. Nowell Corklemore would have made a very great actress; she had so much selfâabandonment, such warm introjection, and hot indignant sympathy; and yet enough of selfâreservation to hoop them all in with judgment. Meanwhile Mrs. Kettledrum, a lady of ordinary sharpness, like a good puddingâappleâGeorgie being a peach of the very finest qualityâshe, I say, at the top of the table was watching them very intentlyâdelighted, amused, indignant; glad that none of her children were there to store up AuntieÊ¼s doings. As for Mr. Corklemore, he was quite accustomed to it; and looking down complacently upon the little doctor, thought to himself, âHow beautifully my Georgie will coldâshoulder him, when we have got all we want out of the conceited chattering jackanapes.â When the ladies were gone, Mr. Bailey Kettledrum, who had no idea of playing dummy even to Mrs. Corklemore, made a trick or two from his own hand. âCorklemore, my dear fellow, you think we are all teeâtotallers. On with the port, if you please, âcessantem Bibuli Consulis amphoram,â never shall forget that line. The bibulous consul, eh! Capital idea. Corklemore, you can construe that?â âHaw! Perhaps I canÊ¼t. Really donÊ¼t know; they beat a heap of stuff into me when I was a very small boy; and it was like whippingâha, haw, something like whippingâââ âEggs,â said Rufus Hutton, âall came to bubbles, eh?â âNot at all, sir, not at all; you entirely misunderstand me. I mean that it was similar toâto the result produced by the whipping of a top.â âOnly made your head go round,â said Mr. Kettledrum, winking at Rufus; and thenceforth had established a community of interest in the baiting of âlong Corklemore.â âWell, at any rate,â he continued, âHutton is a scholarâexcuse my freedom, my dear sir; we are such rustics here, that I seldom come across a man who appreciates my quotations. You are a great acquisition, sir, the very greatest, to this neighbourhood. How can we have let you remain so long without unearthing you?â âBecause,â said Rufus to himself, âyou did not happen to want me; when are you going to offer to introduce me to âthe Dook?ââ âAnd now, gentlemen,â continued Mr. Kettledrum, rising, swelling his chest out, and thumping it athletically, âit is possible that I may be wrong; I have never been deaf to conviction; but if I am wrong, gentlemen, the fault is in yourselves. Mark me now, I am ready, such is the force of truth, I am ready here at my own board (humble as it is) once for all to admit that the fault is in yourselves. But the utterance I swell with, the great thought that is within me, is strifeâno, I beg your pardonâisâisârife and strongly inditing of a certain lady, who is an honour to her sex. I rise to the occasion, friends; I say an honour to her sex, and a blessing to the other one. Gentlemen, no peroration of mine is equal in any way to the greatness of the occasion; could I say, with Cicero, âVeni, vidi, vici,â where would be my selfâapproval? I meanâyou understand me. It is the privilege of a man in this blessed country, the first gem of the oceanâno, I donÊ¼t mean that; it applies, I believe, to Scotland, and the immortal Burnsâbut this, sir, I will say, and challenge contradiction, a Briton, sir, a Briton, never, never, never will be free! And now, sir, in conclusion, is there one of you, let me ask, who will not charge his eyes, gentlemen, and let his glass run overâââ âHaw,â cried Mr. Corklemore, âcharge his glass, come, Kettledrum, and let his eyes run overâhawâI think that is the way we read it, Dr. Hutton.â âGentlemen, I sit down; finding it impossible to obtain an adequate bearing, I close my poor attempt at cleansing my bosom of the perilous stuff, sirâyou know the restâthe health of Mrs. Hutton, that most remarkable childrenâexcuse me, most remarkable woman, whose children, I am quite convinced, will be an honour to their age and sex. Port of â51, gentlemen; a finer vintage than â47.â He had told them that it was â34, but both knew better; and now âin vino veritas.â At last Mr. Bailey Kettledrum had hit the weak point of Rufus, and, what was more, he perceived it. Himself you might butter and soap for a month, and he would take it at all its value; but magnify his Rosa, exalt the name of his Rosa, and you had him at discretion. âRemarkable, sir,â he inquired, with a twinkle of fruity port stealing out from his keen little eyes, âyou really do injustice; so many ladies are remarkableâââ âHaw, well, I never heardâââ âConfound you, Corklemore,â said Kettledrum to him aside, âcan you never hold your tongue? Sir,ââto RufusââI beg your pardon, if I said âremarkable;â I meant to say, sir, â_most_ remarkable!â The most remarkable ladyââthis to Corklemore, in confidenceââI have ever been privileged to meet. âWhat children,â I said to my wife, but yesterday, âwhat children they will be blest with!â Oh, heÊ¼s a lucky dog. The luckiest dog in the world, my boy.â However, they were not so very far from the sloping shores of sobriety when they rejoined the ladies, and made much of the small Misses Kettledrum, tidy children, rather pretty, and all of the pink ribbon pattern. After some melting melodies from soft GeorgieÊ¼s lips and fingers, Mrs. Kettledrum said, âOh, Dr. Hutton, do you ever play chess? We are such players here; all except my poor self; I am a great deal too stupid.â âI used to play a little when I was in India. We are obliged to play all sorts of games in India.â Dr. Hutton piqued himself not a little on his skill in the one true game. At a sign from their mother, the small Kettledrums rushed for the board most zealously, and knocked their soft heads together. Mrs. Corklemore was declared by all to be the only antagonist worthy of an Indian player, and she sat down most gracefully, protesting against her presumption. âJust to take a lesson, you know; only to take a lesson, dear. Oh, please, donÊ¼t let any one look at me.â Rufus, however, soon perceived that he had found his match, if not his superior, in the sweet impulsive artless creature, who threw away the game so neatly when she was quite sure of it. âOh, poor me! Now, I do declareâIsnÊ¼t it most heartbreaking? I am such a foolish thing. Oh, can you be so cruel?â Thrilling eyes of the richest grey trembled with dewy radiance, as Rufus coolly marched off the queen, and planted his knight instead of her. âMrs. Corklemore, can I relent? You are far too good a player.â The loveliest eyes, the most snowy surge, in the âmare magnumâ of ladies, would never have made that dry Rue Hutton, well content with his Rosa, give away so much as the right to capture a pawn in passing. Now observe the contrariety, the want of pure reason, the confusion of principleâI am sorry and ashamed, but I canÊ¼t express these things in English, for the language is rich in emotion, but a pauper in philosophyâthe distress upon the premises of the cleverest womanÊ¼s mind. She had purposely thrown her queen in his way; but she never forgave him for taking it. A glance shot from those soft bright eyes, when Rufus could not see them, as if the gentle evening star, Venus herself, all tremulous, rushed, like a meteor, up the heavens, and came hissing down on a poor manÊ¼s head. She took good care to win the next game, for policy allowed it; and then, of course, it was too late to try the decisive contest. âEarly hours. Liberty Hall, Liberty Hall at Kettledrum! Gentlemen stay up, and smoke if they like. But early hours, sir, for the ladies. We value their complexions. They donÊ¼t. That I know. Do you now, my dearest? No, of course you donÊ¼t.â This was Mr. Kettledrum. âExcept for your sake, darling,â said Mrs. Kettledrum, curtseying, for the children were all gone to bed ever so long ago. âWell,â said Georgie, coming forward, because she knew her figure would look well with three lamps upon it; such a figure of eight! âmy opinion is never worth having, I know, because I feel so much; but I pronounceâââ here she stood up like Portia, with a very lowânecked dress onââgentlemen, and ladies, I pronounce that one is quite as bad as the other.â âHaw!â said Nowell Corklemore. And so they went to bed. And Rufus Hutton wondered whether they ever had family prayers. When all the rest were at breakfast, in came Mrs. Corklemore, looking as fresh as daybreak. âOh, I am so ashamed of myself. What a sluggard you will think me! What is it in the divine song of that great divine, Dr. Watts? Nowell, dear, you must not scold me. I cannot bear being scolded, because I never have tit for tat. Good morning, dearest Anna; how is your headache, darling? Oh, Dr. Hutton, I forgot! No wonder I overlooked you. I shall never think much of you again, because I beat you at chess so.â âGame and game,â said Rufus, solemnly, âand I ought to have won that last one, Mrs. Corklemore; you know I ought.â âTo be sure, to be sure. Oh, of course I do. Butâa little thing perwented himâhis antagonist was too good, sir. Ah, weÊ¼ll play the conqueror some day; and then the tug of war comes. Oh, Anna, I am so conceited! To think of my beating Dr. Hutton, the best player in all India.â âWell, darling, we know all that. And we must not blame you therefore for lying in bed till ten oÊ¼clock.â âOh,â said Rufus, with a groan, âdo look at ladiesâ logic! Mrs. Corklemore gained one game out of twoâonly because I wasâahâhem, I mean by her very fine playâand now she claims absolute victory; and Mrs. Kettledrum accepts it as a premise for a negative conclusion, which has nothing on earth to do with it.â But Rufus got the worst of that protest. He tilted too hard at the quintain. All came down upon him at once, till he longed for a cigar. Then Mrs. Corklemore sympathized with him, arose, their breakfast being over, and made him a pretty curtsey. She was very proud of her curtseys; she contrived to show her figure so. âConfound that woman,â thought Rufus, âI can never tell when she is acting. I never met her like in India. And thank God for that same.â She saw that her most bewitching curtsey was entirely thrown away upon him; for he was thinking of his Rosa, and looking out for the good mare, Polly. âDr. Hutton, I thank you for your condescension, in giving me that lesson. You let me win that last game out of pure good nature. I shall always appreciate it. Meanwhile I shall say to every oneâÊ¼Oh, do you know, Dr. Hutton and I play even?â taking very good care meanwhile never to play again with you. Shocking morality! Yes, very shocking. But then I know no better, do I, Nowell, dear?â âHaw! Well, Georgie, I am not so sure of that. My wife is absolute nature, sir, simple, absoluteâhawâunartificial nature. But unartificial nature is, in my opinionâhawâyes, a very wise nature, sometimes.â âHaw!â said his wife, exactly like him, while everybody laughed. Then she stood upon tiptoe to kiss him, she was so unartificial, even before the company. All the pretty airs and graces of a fair Parisian, combined with all the domestic snugness of an English wife! What a fine thing it is to have a yokeâmate with a playful, charming manner! âGoodâbye, Dr. Hutton. We are on the wing, as you are. I fear you will never forgive me for tarnishing your laurels so.â Tarnishing laurels! What wonderful fellow so ingeniously mixed metaphors? âNow or never,â thought Rufus Hutton; âshe has beaten me at chess, she thinks. Now, IÊ¼ll have the change out of her. Only let her lead up to it.â âMrs. Corklemore, we will fight it out, upon some future occasion. I never played with a lady so very hard to beat.â âAh, you mean at Nowelhurst. But we never go there now. There isâI ought to say, very likely, there are mistakes on both sidesâstill there seems to exist some _prejudice_ against us.âAnna, dear, you put a lump of sugar too much in my tea. I am already too saccharine.â âWell, dear, I put exactly what you always tell me. And you sent your cup for more afterwards.â âMatter of fact animalâhow can she be my sister?â Georgie only muttered this. Rufus Hutton did not catch it. Mr. Garnet would have done so. âNow is the time,â thought Rufus again, as she came up to shake hands with him, not a bit afraid of the morning sun upon her smooth rich cheeks, where the colour was not laid on in spots, but seemed to breathe up from below, like a lamp under water. Outside he saw pet Polly scraping great holes in the gravel, and the groom throwing all his weight on the curb to prevent her from bolting homewards. âHang it, she wonÊ¼t stand that,â he cried; âher mouth is like a seaâanemone. Take her by the snaffleârein. CanÊ¼t you see, you fool, that she hasnÊ¼t seven coats to her mouth, like you? Excuse my opening the window,â he apologized to Mrs. Corklemore, âand excuse my speaking harshly, for if I had not stopped him, he would have thrown my horse down, and I value my Polly enormously.â âEspecially after her behaviour the other night in the forest. It is the same with all you gentlemen; the worse you are treated, the more grateful you are. Oh yes, we heard of it; but we wonÊ¼t tell Mrs. Hutton.â âNo, indeed, I hope you wonÊ¼t. I should be very sorry for her to get even a hint of it.â âTo be sure,â laughed Georgie, âto be sure we will keep the secret, for ever so many reasons; one of them being that Dr. Hutton would be obliged to part with Miss Polly, if her mistress knew of her conduct. But I must not be so rude. I see you want to be off quite as much as fair Polly does. Ah, what a thing it is to have a happy home!â Here Mrs. Corklemore sighed very deeply. If a woman who always has her own way, and a woman who is always scheming, can be happy, she, Georgie, must be so; but she wanted to stir compassion. âCome,â she said, after turning away, for she had such a jacket onâthe most bewitching thing; it was drawn in tight at her round little waist, and seemed made like a horseÊ¼s bodyâclothes, on purpose for her to trot out in,ââcome, Dr. Hutton, say goodâbye, and forgive me for beating you.â Simple creature, of course she knew not the âsacra famesâ of chessâplayers. âWe must have our returnâmatch. I wonÊ¼t say âgoodâbyeâ until you have promised me that. Shall it be at my house?â âNo. There is only one place in the world where I would dare to attack you again, and that is Nowelhurst Hall.â âAnd why there, more than anywhere else?â âBecause there is a set of men there, with which I can beat anybody. I believe I could beat Morphy, with those men at Nowelhurst. Ah! you think me, I see, grossly and stupidly superstitious. Well, perhaps I am. I do sympathise so with everything.â âI hope we may meet at Nowelhurst,â replied Rufus, preparing his blow of Jarnac, âwhen they have recovered a little from their sad distress.â âAh, poor Sir Cradock!â exclaimed the lady, with her expressive eyes tearâladen, âhow I have longed to comfort him! It does seem so hard that he should renounce the sympathy of his relatives at such a time as this. And all through some little wretched dissensions in the days when he misunderstood us! Of course we know that you cannot do it; that you, a comparative stranger, cannot have sufficient influence where the dearest friends have failed. My husband, too, in his honest pride, is very, very obstinate, and my sister quite as bad. They fear, I suppose,âwell, it does seem ridiculous, but you know what vulgar people say in a case of that sortâthey actually fear the imputation of being fortuneâhunters!â Georgie looked so arrogant in her stern consciousness of right, that Rufus said, and for the moment meant it, âHow absurd, to be sure!â âYes,â said Georgie, confidentially, and in the sweetest of all sweet voices, âbetween you and me, Dr. Hutton, for I speak to you quite as to an old friend of the family, whom you have known so longââ(âHolloa,â thought Rufus, âin the last breath I was a âcomparative stranger!ââ)ââI think it below our dignity to care for such an absurdity; and that now, as good Christians, we are bound to sink all petty enmities, and comfort the poor bereaved one. If you can contribute in any way to this act of Christian charity, may I rely upon your good word? But for the world, donÊ¼t tell my husband; he would be so angry at the mere idea.â âI will do my best, Mrs. Corklemore; you may rely upon that.â âOh, thank you, thank you! I felt quite sure that you had a generous heart. I should have been so disappointedâperhaps, after all, we shall play our next game of chess at Christmas with the men I am so lucky with. And then, look to yourself, Dr. Hutton.â âI trust you will find a player there who can give me a pawn and two moves. If you beat him, you may boast indeed.â âWhat player do you mean?â asked Georgie, feeling rather less triumphant. âAny Indian friend of yours?â âYes, one for whom I have the very greatest regard. For whose sake, indeed, I first renewed my acquaintance with Sir Cradock, because I bore a message to him; for the Colonel is a bad correspondent.â âThe Colonel! I donÊ¼t understand you.â As she said these words, how those eyes of hers, those expressive eyes, were changing! And her lovely jacket, so smart and well cut, began to âdrawâ over the chest. âDid you not know,â asked Rufus, watching her in a way that made her hate him worse than when he took her queen, âis it possible that you have not heard, that Colonel Nowell, Clayton Nowell, Sir CradockÊ¼s only brother, is coming home this month, and brings his darling child with him?â Now for your acting, Georgie; now for your selfâcommand. We shall admire, henceforth, or laugh at you, according to your present conduct. She was equal to the emergency. She commanded her eyes, and her lips, and bosom, after that one expansion, even her nerves, to the utmost fibreâeverything but her colour. The greatest actor ever seen, when called on to act in real life, can never command colour if the skin has proper spiracles. The springs of our heart will come up and go down, as God orders the human weather. But she turned away, with that lilyâwhiteness, because she knew she had it, and rushed up enthusiastically to her sister at the end of the room. âDear Anna, darling Anna, oh, I am so delighted! We have been so wretched about poor Sir Cradock. And now his brother is coming to mind him, with such delightful children! We thought he was dead, oh, so many years! What a gracious providence!â âHaw!â said Nowell Corklemore. âThe devil!â said Bailey Kettledrum, and Rufus caught the reâecho, but hoped it might be a mistake. Then they all came forward, gushing, rushing, rapturous to embrace him. âOh, Dr. Hutton, surely this is too good news to be true!â âI think not,â said Rufus Hutton, mystical and projecting, âI really trust it is not. But I thought you must have heard it, from your close affinity, otherwise I should have told you the moment I came in; but now I hope this new arrival will heal over allâmake good, I mean, all family misunderstandings.â âColonel Clayton Nowell,â said Mr. Nowell Corklemore, conclusively, and with emphasis, âColonel Clayton Nowell was shot dead outside the barracks at Mhow, on the 25th day of June, sir, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and fiftyâsix. Correct me, sir, if I am wrong.â âThen,â said Rufus, âI venture to correct you at once.â âShot, sir,â continued Corklemore, âas I am, I may sayâhaw,âin a position to prove, by a man called Abdoollah Manjee, believed to be a Mussulman. Colonel Clayton Nowell, sir, commanding officer in command of Her MajestyÊ¼s CompanyÊ¼s native regiment, NÂºÂ· One hundred and sixtyâthree, who was called,âexcuse me, sir, designated, the âfather of his regiment,â because he had so many illegitimateâhaw, I beg your pardon, ladiesâbecause of hisâha, yes,âpatriarchal manners, sir, and kindly disposition,âheâhaw, where was I?â âI am sure I canÊ¼t say,â said Rufus. âNo, sir, my memory is more tenacious than that of any man I meet with. He, Colonel Clayton Nowell, sir, upon that fatal morning, was remonstrated with by the twoâah, yes, the two executors of his willâupon his rashness in riding forth to face those carnal, I mean to say, those incarnate devils, sir. âAre you fools enough,â he replied, âto think that _my_ fellows would hurt _me_? Give me a ridingâwhip, and be ready with plasters, for I shall thrash them before I let them come back.â Now isnÊ¼t every word of that true?â âYes, almost every word of it,â replied Rufus, now growing excited. âWell, sir, he took his favourite halfâbredâfor he understood crossâbreeding thoroughlyâand he rode out at the sideâgate, where the heap of sand was; âComing back,â he cried to the English sentry, âcoming back in half an hour, with all my scamps along of me. Keep the coppers ready.â And with that he spurred his brown and black mare; and no man saw him alive thereafter, except the fellows who shot him. Haw!â âYes,â said Rufus Hutton, âone man saw him alive, after they shot him in the throat, and one man saved his life; and he is the man before you.â âWhat you, Dr. Hutton! What you! Oh, how grateful we ought to be to you.â âThank you. Well, I donÊ¼t quite see that,â Rufus replied, most dryly. Then he corrected himself: âYou know I only did my duty.â âAnd his son?â inquired Georgie, timidly, and with sympathy, but the greatest presence of mind. She had stood with her hands clasped, and every emotion (except the impossible one of selfishness) quivering on her sweet countenance; and now she was so glad, oh, so glad, she could never tell you. âHis poor illegitimate son, Dr. Hutton? Will he bring the poor child home with him? How glad we shall be to receive him!â âThe child he brings with him is Eoa, dear natural odd Eoa, his legitimate daughter.â âThen you know her, Dr. Hutton; you could depose to her identity?â A very odd question; but some women have almost the gift of prophecy. âOh, yes! I should rather think so. I have known her since she was ten years old.â âAnd now they are coming home. How pleasant! How sweet to receive them, as it were from the dead! By the overland route, I suppose, and with a lac of rupees?â âNo,â said the badgered Rufus, âyou are wrong in both conjectures. They come round the Cape, by the clipperâship _Aliwal_; and with very few rupees. Colonel Nowell has always been extravagant, a wonderfully fineâhearted man, but a hand that could never hold anythingâexcept, indeed, a friendÊ¼s.â By the moisture in Rue HuttonÊ¼s eyes, Georgie saw that her interests would fare ill with him, if brought into competition with those of Colonel Nowell. Meanwhile Polly was raving wild, and it took two grooms to hold her, and the white froth dribbling down her curb was to Rufus Hutton as the foam of the sea to a sailor. He did love a tearing gallop, only not through the thick of the forest. âGoodâbye, goodâbye! I shall see you soon. Thank you, I will take a cheroot. But I only smoke my own. Goodâbye! I am so much obliged to you. You have been so very kind. Mrs. Hutton will be miserable until you come over to us. Goodâbye; once more, goodâbye!â Rufus Hutton, you see, was a man of the world, and could be false âon occasion.â John Rosedew could never have made that speech on the back of detected falsehood. Away went Polly, like a gale of wind; and Rufus (who was no rogue by nature, only by the force of circumstances, and then could never keep to it), he going along twenty miles an hour, set his teeth to the breeze, which came down the funnel of his cigar as down a steamerÊ¼s chimney, stuck his calves well into PollyÊ¼s sides, and felt himself a happy man, going at a rocketÊ¼s speed, to a home of happiness. All of us who have a home (and unless we leave our heart there, whenever we go away, we have no home at all), all of us who have a hole in this shifting sandy worldâthe sand as of an hourâglassâbut whence we have spun such a rope as the devil can neither make nor breakâI mean to say, we, all who love, without any hems, and haws, and rubbish, those who are only our future tense (formed from the present by adding âsoâ)âall of us who are lucky enough, I believe we may say good enough, to want no temporal augment from the prefix of society, only to cling upon the tree to the second aorist of our children, wherein the root of the man lurks, the grand indefinite so anomalous; all these fellows, if they can anyhow understand this sentence, will be glad to hear that Rufus Hutton had a jolly ride. Rosa waited at the gate; why do his mareÊ¼s shoes linger? Rosa ran in, and ran out again, and was sure that she heard something pelting down the hill much too fast, for her sake! but who could blame him when he knew he was coming home at last? Then Rosa snapped poor JonahÊ¼s head off, for being too thick to hear it. Meanwhile, a mighty senate was held at Kettledrum Hall, Mrs. Corklemore herself taking the curule chair. After a glimpse of natural life, and the love of man and woman, we want no love of money; so we lift our laps (like the Roman envoy) and shake out war
{'title': 'Cradock Nowell: A Tale of the New Forest. Vol. 2 (of 3) by R. D. Blackmore', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}