Читать книгу Paul Ferroll - Caroline Clive - Страница 5

Table of Contents

SINCE the beginning of our history several years had passed before things arrived at this point. The young heir of the Bartletts had been two years at school, and his mother's affairs had been directed nearly that time by the good offices of Mr. Ferroll. He and his wife were living in great and enjoyable retirement, and their child was running about, still the only new branch of the tree. As far as a young child can be lovely and charming, little Janet was so. She had the sweetest face and the sweetest temper possible, but she was less idolized than many a cross and many an ugly child. The whole tenderness of Mr. Ferroll's nature was centered in his wife; and anything that interfered with that passion he put aside. He would have her devote herself to him, not to her child; he would have no nursing, no teaching, no preference of a dawdle with Janet to the walk with him, or the long summer day's expedition. The nursery was Janet's place, a governess her teacher; she came to her mother when her mother was alone, and was happy with her; but she was happy everywhere, "singing, dancing, to herself," and it was rather her own resources than her mother's motherly devotion which made her happiness.

Lady Lucy, who had all the instincts of a good woman, and only one way of exercising them, could not believe Janet was happy; so little fondled, so little made of, as she was. Her own children were all important in her house, and when she knew Mr. and Mrs. Ferroll were out together in summer weather, and would not be at home till after Janet's bed-time, she would often walk to the Tower, and lead the little girl by the hand up to her own sociable and noisy garden or drawing-room. An extreme fondness naturally grew up between the little Ferroll and the rather larger Bartletts. Her father saw it with great indifference, not considering himself under obligations for services which he did not want. Only on one point did he suddenly and positively interfere—and that was when the young heir of the Hall, sharing in the fondness of his mother and sister for the merry and most good-natured Janet, declared her, according to the fashion of children, his wife. Mr. Ferroll's brow clouded far more than the occasion required: his severe countenance put an end to all the mirth of the moment, as a shadow passing over young chickens is said to inspire them with instinctive trembling, as if hawks were between them and the sun; and taking occasion to call Janet's frightened governess into the room, he desired such vulgar jests might never again be indulged in, upon the penalty of an abrupt separation from her pupil. Little Janet, therefore, was no longer the wife of Hugh Bartlett, and the governesses and nurses felt they had done very wrong in suggesting the union. Except upon this subject, he was kind and neighbourly to the Bartlett family; the helplessness and goodness of the widow laid hold on him, as a climbing plant upon the strong oak; and he found himself her support and necessary prop, before he was aware how far he was engaged.

Lord Ewyas was struck by the energy which Mr. Ferroll had displayed in her affairs—he himself was in need of aid, though of a different kind. He was Lord-Lieutenant of the County, and he found himself very ill-supported by the magistrates, who were an ordinary set of men, and who at this moment were wanted in circumstances somewhat out of the common order. The poor population had become exceedingly riotous, in consequence of reduced wages, and they had formed such strong combinations, and were guided by such efficient men, that a season of considerable danger seemed impending.

Threatening letters had been received by many persons in the county, and in several instances these threats had been put in execution by the destruction of property, barns and ricks, for instance, which had been set on fire. The last person to be thus persecuted should have been the quiet and alms-giving Lady Lucy Bartlett; but so it was, that a strange-looking epistle was one morning brought to her by her butler, a servant who had long lived in the family, and who lingered in the room evidently curious about the contents. She opened it, and found these ominous words—"In a day you don't look for it, fire will consume you." A shriek on her part, which was echoed by an exclamation on his, followed; and she failed to remark, in her terror, that the butler's alarm seemed to precede his knowledge of the fact, for he was wringing his hands and crying out they were all lost, before he had read the letter which contained the threat.

Mr. Ferroll was consulted, of course; he recommended caution, but supposed it was the work of some one intending to extort money, and would be followed by an appeal for relief. However, such was not the case; from week to week the ill-shaped letter continued to be delivered, and the words were still the same words—"In a day you don't look for it, fire will consume you." These were brought up by her trembling butler, Didley, with a face as white as a sheet, and still he lingered to hear the contents, which at last produced such an effect upon his nerves that he became unable to continue his services, and was reduced to the confinement of the lower regions of the house, whence the answer to his mistress's inquiries came every day "Very poorly indeed, my lady."

Under these public and private circumstances, a clear-headed and strong-willed man like Mr. Ferroll, was invaluable to all parties concerned in them; and Lord Ewyas, as well as his cousin, was very anxious personally to enlist his service.

"He's a magistrate, is not he, your Mr. Ferroll?" said he to Lady Lucy.

"Yes, a very useful one; he is constantly at the petty sessions, and the magistrates' meetings at Churchargent, and if by any chance he does not go, they stop all the business if they can."

"He gets an influence wherever he goes," said Lord Ewyas; "he is the very man I want to be able to send to upon occasion. I wish the fellow was not so perverse. What keeps him at home, do you think?"

"I don't know," said Lady Lucy; "unless, perhaps, it was that shocking thing about his first wife."

"Yet he's not a man to suffer from nerves and fine feelings—and the thing's so long past, now."

"But then they never found out who did it," said Lady Lucy.

"Ah, you think that would have eased his mind, do you. They suspected somebody, did not they?"

"Yes; though I don't think it would have eased his mind, for he got him off you know; paid counsel for his own wife's murderer. When one thinks of it, it's most extraordinary—it's carrying good nature quite too far."

"Indeed it is," said Lord Ewyas; "only I suppose Mr. Ferroll thought the man innocent."

"Oh dear no, he certainly did it—I saw him myself going about quite free after the trial—he making a hedge when I saw him."

"But I suppose he was not the murderer," said Lord Ewyas. "If not it would have been hard to hang him."

"But you know he certainly was; he was tried you know."

"And acquitted."

"Oh, that does not make any difference," said Lady Lucy.

"No, no, to be sure," answered Lord Ewyas, laughing; "but, however, Mr. Ferroll—let us talk of him—can you bring us together, do you think?"

"No, I don't think I can. Whenever I have anyone here, he keeps away; he only comes if I am alone—even Mr. Ewbury, who is so clever, he would not meet."

"He would not come to us, when I asked him," said Lord Ewyas; "but I want him, and will get at him. You shall invite him, as if you were alone, and I will be with you—I am sure you will be so kind?"

"Oh, certainly, only I'm afraid he will be angry—besides poor Didley can't wait, he's so nervous about those terrible letters, that sometimes in a morning he can scarcely stand."

"But you don't mean that your Mr. Ferroll is a man to care whether a butler waits or not."

"Oh dear no, it's the very last thing he would observe or care about. But it is meeting anyone, even you, that I'm afraid of."

"Even me! but nonsense, you must do it, will you, coz, for me?"

Lady Lucy hesitated; her cousin, however, persuaded her, and she despatched a letter of request to see Mr. and Mrs. Ferroll, as she did occasionally when needing their assistance. The pretence she took was the incendiary letter, and they complied with the summons, for Mr. Ferroll fancied he had traced them to their source, and was curious to ascertain it positively; for he thought he perceived more danger in them than Lady Lucy really believed, though less than she believed herself to believe.

Lady Lucy came forward in some trepidation to receive her neighbours when they were announced. "How d'ye do—it's so kind of you—are you quite well, Mrs. Ferroll? I hope you won't object to not finding me... that is to say, to being with...the thing is, Lord Ewyas came only half an hour ago, and I could not, could I?"

"Just in time to dress?" said Mr. Ferroll. "I was not aware I was to meet Lord Ewyas, but you were aware, my dear lady, that he was to meet me; and I am happy to be made by you the acquaintance of your friends." And so saying, he bowed frankly to Lord Ewyas, and accepted the intercourse thus pressed upon him.

"We were half afraid," said Lord Ewyas, addressing himself to Mrs. Ferroll, when after dinner conversation grew unrestrained, "that you would be angry with my cousin and me for obliging you to let some one beside herself share the advantage of her neighbourhood to you."

"Nay," answered Mrs. Ferroll, "don't have so bad an opinion of us as that. It is only too flattering that you should think it worth while to take the least pains to meet us."

"Any pains would be overpaid, if I could only, hear again the song which I heard some years ago—yes, really years. It was too good to be kept for one fortunate pair of ears."

"But, literally speaking, these ears of mine are not so fortunate," said Mr. Ferroll; "a brother author sometimes comes to consult, and a printer's devil very often haunts us, and by one means or other, I am very busy, my lord."

"Oh, but," interposed Lady Lucy, "you have only one man or so to see you. One Mr. M—was with you last week," she said, naming without knowing it, one of the most celebrated talkers of the day.

"Humph!" said Lord Ewyas, "you had him, and all to yourselves?"

"Yes, we had—he and I are old friends, and now fellow workers."

"What a charity it would be to invite your neighbours, who never hear or see such a big-wig."

"To meet one Mr. M—?" said Mr. Ferroll, smiling.

Lord Ewyas smiled too for half a moment. "True," he said.

"What's true?" asked Lady Lucy.

"Lady Lucy," said Mr. Ferroll, "is your butler better yet? I fear you will never have his services again."

"Oh, I can't think anything so shocking; but it's all the fault of the radicals. These fires have put him half out of his wits. They tell me he goes out two or three times in the night to see that the well has water in it, and that he calls the housekeeper up more nights than not, fancying he smells fire."

"He should consider," said Lord Ewyas, "that he is but a lodger; what is it to him if the house be burned?"

"Nay," cried Lady Lucy, "that's a remark I don't understand. Are not lodgers burned as well as the owners?"

"They say not," said her cousin; "but if he is of a different opinion, it's no wonder the letters you get frighten him."

"Oh, he's horribly frightened; the first time he brought me one, I knew something was the matter, by the shaking of the door in his hand."

"How did he know the contents?" asked Mr. Ferroll.

"By the shape, I suppose, and the look, and the writing," said Lady Lucy.

"Do you never have oddly shaped letters except from the incendiary?" asked Mr. Ferroll.

"Yes, the butcher, and begging letters, to be sure."

"But those never alarmed him?"

"I never remarked; but I wish you would not frighten me with those kind of questions that I don't know the meaning of," said the widow.

Mr. Ferroll laughed gaily; he caught his wife's eye, who said immediately, "I am sure Ferroll thinks some evil is going to happen. Danger puts him in high spirits always." He, perhaps, would have parried the charge, had not Lady Lucy said, "It frightened her to see people so fearless," and signed to her guests to move to the drawing-room.

"I think," said Mr. Ferroll, when he had shut the door, "that the butler himself writes the letters."

"Why so?" said Lord Ewyas, startled.

"It is borne in upon me," answered Mr. Ferroll, smiling. "More little circumstances than I can remember or detail, bring me to that conclusion."

"And do you think that he means any harm by it?"

"That I don't know; he either acts the alarm which he shows, in order to cover his design, or else he is going mad, and is haunted by the idea of mischief, and impelled to do it."

"He looks ill," said Lord Ewyas.

"Very; and much worse this evening than I have seen him at all. I am sure he must be watched tonight."

Lord Ewyas grew uneasy, but Mr. Ferroll turned the conversation, and exerted his great social powers to engage his companion's interest and attention. They both became eager in discourse, and Lord Ewyas was impatient, when the door was opened, and Didley, the butler, entered the room without a summons, and advanced towards the table, as if expecting to be spoken to. "Did you ring, my lord?" he asked.

"No, no, I did not ring," he said; "I thought the fellow was sick, and could disturb nobody," and then he continued the argument he was maintaining against Mr. Ferroll; but they had not long been engaged in the animated and interesting controversy, before Didley again interrupted them, and making some trifling alteration in the table, evidently waited for an opportunity of speaking.

"What is it you want?" said Lord Ewyas, impatiently.

"Why, my lord, if you'll give me leave to speak, I have a matter I very much wish advice upon."

"Can't you wait till to-morrow morning?"

"Really, my lord, I can't very well. It's about these letters to my lady, these threatening letters—so I hear they are at least."

"Which you write yourself," said Mr. Ferroll.

"Which I write!" said the butler, turning upon him eyes of the deepest perplexity. "Do I write them, do you think, sir?"

"I know you do."

"Who told you?" said Didley.

"Oh, one told me who cannot be mistaken."

"And did he tell you really that it was I?"

"Yes, positively."

"Well, that is what I never have been sure of myself, for when I see them, and take them up to my lady, they frighten me in a strange way for a man's own writing to do."

"Why do you write then?" asked Lord Ewyas.

"Why, my lord, it's partly all about that matter that I came to talk with you gentlemen. Do you know, that for months past there have been people coming into my room without any leave of mine. They used to be quiet enough, but of late they have grown troublesome."

"Who are they?" said Lord Ewyas.

"Why, there comes a good many. I know, and some I don't know; my late master, my lady's husband, is foremost. He will come and sit down close by me, and tell me to write to my lady, always these same words—'In a day you don't look for it, fire will consume you.' I have conjured him a hundred times to tell me if he comes from heaven or from hell, but he always shakes his head."

"That might give rise to unpleasant conjectures," said Mr. Ferroll. "Now you know who told me."

"Aye, sir, I thought so; though I wonder he came to you. I never saw him, nor any of them, when other living people were in the room, before to-day. Was it to-day, sir?"

Mr. Ferroll shook his head gravely; and, evading the question, inquired, "At what time was he with you?"

"It was when John, and Henry, and I were laying the cloth for dinner."

"Did they see him?"

"No; I asked them, and they said 'No.'"

"Nor hear him?"

"No; he would not speak, only beckoned me with him."

"But then he spoke?"

"Yes, yes; and I think I must do it."

"Well, I'm not clear that it is right."

"That's what I sometimes think myself; and I've kneeled by my bedside hours and hours, asking God, and praying till I have not known my head from my heels. But it's all dark there."

"Poor fellow!" said Lord Ewyas.

"Yet it's a great thing, my lord, to have the company of spirits; and the last hour or two, I must say, I've been easier than for a long time, and that I think is a sign that I've got leave to do it."

"It may be so; but you came like a wise man to consult us on the subject," said Mr. Ferroll. "From what he said to me, I think you're mistaken. Did he say precisely these same old words?"

"No, no; worse words—worse."

"Aye, indeed, I thought so. Sometimes I've known those spirits make very strange blunders; and with respect to what your old master orders, I advise..."

"I can't take it, if you advise against doing it," interrupted Didley.

"Why not?"

"Why, partly because it's already done."

"What's done?" cried Lord Ewyas.

"The house is on fire," said Didley.

"Good heavens!" cried Lord Ewyas, starting up.

But Didley, springing to the door before him, fastened it, and set his back against it. "Nobody shall hinder my work," he said. "I knew you would talk to me while my fires were burning; and if he had not gone and betrayed me to one of you..."

But before he could finish, Mr. Ferroll sprang upon him, and tried to force him from the door; but Didley was armed, and drew out suddenly a large knife, the sheath of which was just inside his coat. Mr. Ferroll just avoided a fatal thrust; and seizing his arm, said, "Is this the way you treat your master's friend?"

"Nobody's his friend that hinders me doing his commands," said the madman, his malady breaking out at this sudden excitement, and struggling with the violent strength of madness, to regain command of the weapon.

There was now a contest, which was plainly much to the disadvantage of Mr. Ferroll, his antagonist being armed, and his mind beyond all the usual motive of control. It was not only strength that was needed, but there was the necessity to avoid even a faint stroke of the sharp gleaming knife; Mr. Ferroll saw the disadvantage.

"Come," said he, "you're in the right. You must do as you will; loose me," and all the while half kept a powerful grasp of the maniac, "and I won't hinder you."

"Swear that," cried Didley.

"I swear."

"Again—again."

"Well, well, I swear; but it's all right, you see. Don't you smell the smoke yourself—you've done it."

In fact, the burning smell became perceptible.

"Ha! you say true, sir," said Didley, and turned his pale face towards the quarter whence it came, his iron grasp still held Mr. Ferroll; but Lord Ewyas perceived only the apparent relaxation in his purpose, and thinking the danger from him passed, rushed towards the door.

"You've sworn falsely," cried Didley, brandishing his knife, and straining again his vigorous hold; "my master shall be obeyed;" and again he sought to make a plunge.

"Good heavens! there he is," said Mr. Ferroll, suddenly relaxing all his resistance, and fixing his eyes on the door.

"Where?" cried Didley, thrown off his guard for a moment. That moment was enough. Mr. Ferroll closed upon him, and threw him down; Lord Ewyas sprang to help. They snatched away the knife, and now, notwithstanding his struggles, he was soon overpowered.

In another minute two of the servants who had heard the noise came rushing to their assistance. "So far, so good," cried Mr. Ferroll. "Come, my lord, there's the second act yet;" and they both ran to find the sources of the fire, whose smoke began to roll through the house.

"Go to the drawing-room, pray, my dear lord," said Ferroll. "Get Lady Lucy and the children out into the garden. There is no danger, I think, but they will shriek so hideously. Will you whisper Mrs. Ferroll to come to me for a moment? Thank you."

And without waiting for her, but sure that she find him, he gave directions what to do, and continued his search for any fresh spots in which the madman might have kindled the flame.

"Elinor," he said, "you see I'm quite safe, but I've a story to tell you. Not now, however, most certainly; about, dear Elinor, with your keen womanly intelligence, for that poor fool Didley, who I told you was ill, has been setting the house on fire. We have put out one fire already, but there may be many more. As for himself, he's out of the way; he's a perfect maniac, and they've secured him. Never mind that now; don't think of that just now, only keep close to me, and tell me if you perceive fire."

Luckily the discovery had followed so closely on the act, that although fired in several places, the house had not become dangerously inflamed; and under calm and prompt treatment, the peril subsided before long; and with the sacrifice of some silk curtains, and the destruction of some plaster ceilings, through which the water poured, safety was restored, so far as could be ascertained; but men were set to watch all night, lest any hidden danger should yet remain. The party got together again, when all was done that was possible, in the drawing-room, and then Mr. Ferroll talked seriously with his hostess, and gaily with his wife, of what had passed. His companion in peril shuddered still at the remembrance of their danger. He was full of natural pity for the maniac, whose ravings penetrated occasionally to the drawing-room from the room where he was confined and guarded. Mr. Ferroll tried his very best to look grave also, and to compose his sensations to a due harmony with the nerves of Lady Lucy, and the overpowered state of mind of Lord Ewyas; but he was like a man slightly intoxicated, who even while acting rationally, does so with a consciousness to himself, and evidence to others that he is doing it by an effort of self-command. The excitement had roused up every power of life; and his wit, his knowledge, his force of character, were all in activity. He enjoyed life, and no nervousness about himself, or sensibility to the sufferings of another, disturbed him.

"I should so much like to walk home, instead of the carriage," he said at last to his wife. "You don't mind it, do you?"

"Oh, I should enjoy it also very much," she answered, quite ready to go.

"What, after a shock like that?" cried their hostess; "all in the dark too!"

"Can my carriage be of any use?" said Lord Ewyas.

Mrs. Ferroll civilly declined; her husband said something like pshaw! but it would have passed had not Lady Lucy whispered "Hush," which was quite too late, as the thing was not going to be said again; "they have plenty of horses and carriages."

Lord Ewyas let it pass, and shaking hands with both, begged them to continue the acquaintance thus recommenced, and said to Mr. Ferroll, "We have been in danger of death together—an irresistible reason for trying to enjoy life in one another's company."

Mr. Ferroll smiled, and said, "The campaign had been a brilliant one;" and so they parted, without any promises made on the Ferroll side to cultivate the acquaintance; and Lady Lucy, as soon as they were gone, said, "He won't come and see you now; you have offended him about the carriage."

But her cousin answered, "Pooh, pooh! he has too much sense; he's too well bred for that."