Читать книгу The Three Brides - Charlotte M. Yonge - Страница 6

Julius admitted the fact.

“And be ye going to put he up in the pulpit to preach to we? ’Pon my word of honour, says I to Sally when her telled I, we shall have little Dick out of the infant-school next!”

“We’re all young, Betty! Can’t you put up with any one that is not older than yourself! I’m afraid he would hardly be able to get up the pulpit stair.”

The Rector’s reply delighted Betty; but she returned to the charge. “No, no, sir, I be coming to hear ye next Sunday. Sally have turned my black bonnet a purpose. It be one of the Lady Poynsett’s, as her gave I when my old gentleman was took two years after the Squire—when bonnets was bonnets, you know, ma’am. Now tell me true, be ye to preach morning or arternoon, sir?”

“In the morning, I hope, Betty.”

“Then I’ll be there, Master Julius, to the third seat from the front; but it ain’t becoming for a woman of my age, seventy-nine come Christmas, to sit under a slip of a lad as hasn’t got the taste of the birch off his back.”

“That’s too bad, Betty,” broke in Rosamond, speaking out of conviction. “Mr. Bowater isn’t so young as he looks, and he was too good a boy ever to need the birch.”

“All the wuss for he,” retorted the undaunted Betty. “Spare the rod, and spile the child.”

The village wit was left triumphant, and Julius proposed to return by a cross-road leading into the plantations. Suddenly a scud of rain mixed with whirling yellow leaves sent them hurrying into a cart-shed, where, with a sudden start, they found themselves rushing in on some one. Who was it? A girl—a young lady. That was evident, as Rosamond panted out, “I beg your pardon!” and the next moment there was the exclamation, “Mr. Julius Charnock! You don’t remember me? Eleonora Vivian!”

“Miss Vivian! you have the advantage of me,” said Julius, a little stiffly. “Let me introduce my wife.”

The hands met, and Rosamond perceived in the failing light a very fine-looking maiden, with a superbly carried head and neck, simply dressed in gray cloth. “Are you sheltering here, or are you sketching?” she asked, seeing some paper and drawing materials.

“I was giving a lesson. See,” exhibiting some bold outlines on large paper. “Does not my pupil do me credit?”

“Very spirited,” said Rosamond. “Where is she?”

“He is gone to fetch me his grandmother’s umbrella. He is the little Gurth of these parts.”

“Of whom you are making a Giotto?” asked Julius, thawing a little.

“Exactly; I found him drawing on a barn-door with such zeal and spirit, that I could not help offering him some lessons. Only see, does he not get on? I wish I could get him to the school of design.”

“May I ask what becomes of his pigs?” demanded Julius.

“Don’t you hear?” as sundry grunts and squeals of those eminently conversational animals were audible through the walls. “They are driven home to this rick-yard, so here I meet the boy.”

“Who is he?” asked the Rector.

“I only know that he answers to the name of Joe. And here he comes,” as a boy about ten years old came lumbering up in big boots, with a heavy plaid shawl on one arm, and an immense green umbrella in the other.

“Thank you, Joe. Make your bow to the lady and gentleman.”

This was a pull of the flaxen forelock; for Joe was a slender, pretty, fair boy, of that delicately-complexioned English type which is not roughened till after many years of exposure.

“That’s right, my man,” said Julius, kindly. “What is your name?”

“Please, sir, Joshua Reynolds.”

“Instinct,” whispered Rosamond.

“Or influence of a name,” returned Miss Vivian.

“Are you one of Dan Reynolds’s boys, or Tim’s?” proceeded

“No, I bides with granny.”

Julius made no further attempt at disentangling the pedigree but inquired about his employments. Did he go to school?

“When there ain’t nothing to be done.”

“And what can be done by such a mite?” asked Rosamond.

“Tell the lady,” said the Rector; “what work can you do?”

“Bird-starving.”

“Well!”

“And stoon-picking, and cow-herding, and odd jobs up at Farmer Light’s; but they won’t take I on for a carter-boy not yet ’cause I bean’t not so lusty as some on ’em.”

“Have you learnt to read?”

“Oh yes, very nicely,” interposed Miss Vivian.

“Did you teach him?” said Rosamond.

“No! He could read well before I came to the place. I have only been at home six weeks, you know, and I did not know I was poaching on your manor,” she added sotto voce to Julius, who could not but answer with warm thanks.

It was discovered that the rain had set in for the night, and an amicable contest ensued between the ladies as to shawl and umbrella, each declaring her dress unspoilable, till it ended in Eleonora having the shawl, and both agreeing to share the umbrella as far as the Sirenwood lodge.

However, the umbrella refused to open, and had to be given to the boy, who set his teeth into an extraordinary grin, and so dealt with the brazen gear as to expand a magnificent green vault, with a lesser leathern arctic zone round the pole; but when he had handed it to Miss Vivian, and she had linked her arm in Lady Rosamond’s, it proved too mighty for her, tugged like a restive horse, and would fairly have run away with her, but for Rosamond’s holding her fast.

“Lost!” they cried. “Two ladies carried away by an umbrella!”

“Here, Julius, no one can grapple with it but you,” called Rosamond.

“I really think it’s alive!” panted Eleonora, drawn up to her tip-toes before she could hand it to Julius, who, with both clinging to his arm, conducted them at last to the lodge, where Julius could only come in as far as it would let him, since it could neither be let down nor left to itself to fly to unknown regions.

A keeper with a more manageable article undertook to convey Miss Vivian home across the park; and with a pleasant farewell, husband and wife plodded their way home, along paths the mud of which could not be seen, only heard and felt; and when Rosamond, in the light of the hall, discovered the extent of the splashes, she had to leave Julius still contending with the umbrella; and when, in spite of the united efforts of the butler and footman, it still refused to come down, it was consigned to an empty coach-house, with orders that little Joe should have a shilling to bring it down and fetch it home in the morning!