Читать книгу A Whim, and Its Consequences - G. P. R. James - Страница 9

In the gray of the early morning a young man walked across the country, near Winslow park. He was dressed like a respectable countryman, with a good plain fustian coat upon his back, and leathern gaiters on his legs. Robust and healthy, he went along at a quick pace; but yet his look was not joyous, and his brow was stern. The country rose gradually over gentle slopes at first, and then wooded hills. Soon it reached a barer region, where downs extended far and wide, and great hills were seen, scantily covered with short grass. No trees; but here and there a stunted hawthorn, or solitary fir; no hedgerows, no cultivated field were there, except where now and then the traces of the plough were apparent in a dell, promising a thin crop of barley or rye for the ensuing year. The air was cold and invigorating, the sky clear, and the curlew, with its arched wings, and wild whistle, skimmed away from the white patch of uncovered cliff as the wayfarer passed by, even at a distance. He walked on, five--ten miles; and then he passed through a gap in the hills where they had been cut precipitously down, through chalk and flint, to give passage to the cross-country road. When he had reached the middle of the gap, another country was before him, lying beautiful and soft in the blue morning. Cold might be the colouring, but dark, and fine, and clear. There were woods, and fields, and two or three villages; and a small river, down, down, several miles below. After walking on, gradually descending, for about a quarter of an hour, the traveller saw a finger-post, where the road divided. "To East Greys," said one limb. "To Northferry," said the other; and he took the latter path.

Two or three minutes after, he overtook an old man in very ragged robes. His face was both yellow and dirty, like a copper pot which had been used several times. In his hand he carried an old kettle without a spout, filled with charcoal, and under his arm a basket and a pair of bellows. He seemed very poor.

"Won't you give a poor man something to help him on?" he said, in a cracked voice, as the traveller turned round and looked at him.

"My good friend, I am nearly as poor as yourself," replied the other; "however, there is sixpence for you.

'For the poor man alone,

To the poor man's moan,

Of his morsel a morsel will give, well a' day!'"

The travelling tinker took the money, and put it in his pocket, saying, "Thank you, Sir. Do you know where a man could get something to eat, and a pint of beer?"

"No, indeed," answered the other; "I do not know this side of the hills at all; and was just going to ask you the same question you have put to me. I want very much to find some place where I can get food and drink, for I am very hungry; and information, for I have several questions to ask."

The tinker winked his eye; and, with his peculiar intonation, which from cold, or crying for half a century, "Old pots to mend!" was half a whisper, and half a scream, he said, "I think I know where we can find all, if you are not afraid to come with me."

"Why should I be afraid?" asked the other. "I have very little to lose but my skin, and it is not worth taking."

"I don't know that," said the tinker. "It would do finely to mend my bellusses. But, come along; your skin shall be quite safe, and all the rest too. You shall have your sixpenn'orth, for giving the sixpence kindly."

The traveller walked on with him without deliberation, saying, "You are going to a party of your own people, I suppose?"

"Ay," answered the other; "there are two or three of our families down here--some of the best of them; Stanleys, and others. They can't be far; somewhere out of the way of the wind."

With a few short sentences of this sort they went on for a mile and a half further, and wound in amongst the woods and sandy lanes, which now took place of the downs and chalk hills. Presently, the old man pointed with his free hand, saying, "They are down there."

"You must have known that before," said his companion.

"Not I," rejoined the tinker. "I can see things that you cannot."

In five minutes more Chandos was seated near the entrance of a gipsey-tent, with his comrade of the way by his side; about a dozen yellow people, of all ages, around; and a wild shaggy horse or two cropping the scanty grass hard by. They were a set of people he made himself at home amongst in a moment; and his introduction by the tinker was quite sufficient to obtain for him a supply of provisions, better than what his sixpence would have procured in any other place, and more than double in quantity. There was one good-looking comely dame, of about six-and-twenty, who seemed to regard him with peculiar interest, and took care to see that his wants were attended to liberally, both with meat and drink. But the curse of all small communities, curiosity, was upon them; and every one asked him, instead of answering his questions. Where he came from, whither he was going, what was his business, what the object of his journey, was all inquired into without the least ceremony. His answers were cheerfully given, to all appearance. He told them, that he had come from a good distance, that he was going to Northferry, and that he was about to seek the place of head-gardener at the house of Mr. Arthur Tracy.

"Oh, it is a beautiful place, surely," answered the brown lady, who took so much care of him, and sat on his left hand.

"And a capital farm-yard there is," rejoined a stout merry young vagabond just opposite. "Such hens and turkeys, my eye!"

"I shall have nothing to do with the farm-yard," answered Chandos, with a smile and a nod; which the other understood right well, and laughed at in return.

"And so you are a gardener," whispered the woman, while the rest were talking loud. "I've a notion you have had other trades in your day."

"I never was of any other trade in my life," answered Chandos, boldly. The woman looked at him through her half-closed eyes for a moment, and then shook her head.

"Are you fondest of roses or lilies?" she asked in the same tone. "Lilies, I should think, by the colour of your hands."

"There you are mistaken," said Chandos; "I prefer roses, much. But tell me what you know of the place. Are they good, kind people there?"

"Oh, yes!--Two queer coves are the old men; (Did you never see them?) but good enough for that matter," was the brown lady's reply. "They are not over fond of persecuting, and such things. And then, the two girls are well enough to look at. The eldest seems cold and proud, and I dare say she is; but she gave little Tim there a shilling one day. She didn't know he was a gipsey, as they call us, because he's so white; or she wouldn't, I dare say. But I can tell you what, my lad: if you do not understand your gardener's trade well, I'd advise you not to go there; for the old Squire knows every flower in the garden, they tell me, by its christened name."

Chandos laughed, and saying, "He won't puzzle me, I think," rose from the turf. "I must go," he continued; "for you say it is three miles yet, and I havn't time to spare."

To say the truth, he did not feel quite sure that he would be permitted to depart so easily; for it was very evident to him, that one at least of the party had found out that his profession of gardener was assumed for the nonce; and he might well fancy that she suspected him of having more money on his person than he really had. No opposition was made, however; and the old tinker, who seemed to be a man of consideration with his clan, sent one of the boys to show the traveller on his way to a finger-post, which would direct him further.

The real distance in a straight line was not, in fact, more than two miles; but the various turnings and windings which the road took rendered it little less than the woman had said; and it was about ten o'clock when he reached the back door of Northferry House, and stating his object, asked for admission. The butler brought him into the hall, and went, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, to ask if his master would see the applicant. While he stood there, he gazed around with some interest on the wide vestibule, the broad stone stairs, the handsome marble columns, and the view through a pair of glass doors into the garden beyond; but, whether he admired or not, his contemplations were soon interrupted. The door of the breakfast-room opened again, and while the butler held it back, two beautiful girls came out, laughing gaily. There was a column in the way, which made them separate, and the younger took the side of the hall, where he was standing. Her eyes fell upon him, rested on his face, as if spell-bound, and then her cheek turned first pale and next red. She passed on in haste; but Chandos could see that she lingered behind her sister on the stairs, and walked with her eyes bent down in deep thought. He saw it with a faint smile.

"Come with me, master," said the butler, as soon as he had closed the door; "Mr. Tracy will see you in a minute."

It was a large, fine room, into which Chandos was led, supported by six marble columns like those in the hall. On three sides there were books; on one, three windows down to the ground. And having been introduced, he was left there to follow his own devices. His first impulse was, to throw himself into a large easy chair; but then, recollecting that was not exactly a gardener's place, and that it was a gardener's place he was seeking, he rose up again, and walked to the window, out of which he looked for about three minutes. That was all very well, if he had remained there; for the windows fronted the gardens, and he might be supposed to be contemplating the scene of his expected labours. But Mr. Tracy did not appear very soon; the time grew tedious; and once more forgetting what he was about, Chandos walked up to one of the bookcases, and took out a large folio book, in a vellum cover. He first looked at the title-page, where, printed in all the luxury of amateur typography, stood the words--"Villa Bromhamensis." He had never heard of the Villa Bromhamensis; and turning over the leaves, he began to read some very fair Latin verses, descriptive of the countryseat of a noble family now, I believe, extinct.

While he was thus engaged, the door opened behind him. He was not too deeply interested not to hear it, and recalled to himself in a moment, he was hurrying to put the book back in its place, with an air of some confusion, when the bland voice of Mr. Tracy stopped him, saying, "What have you got there, my good man? Do not be alarmed, I like that people should take every opportunity of instructing themselves; but I should wish to see the subject of your studies."

Chandos gave up the book into his hands, with a low bow, and some doubt as to the result of the investigation; but he was not altogether without ready wit, and when Mr. Tracy exclaimed, with some surprise, "Latin! Do you read Latin?" he answered, "Certainly, Sir. How should I know my business else, when so many books are written upon it in Latin?"

"True, true," said Mr. Tracy, whose humour, by a lucky accident, was exactly fitted by such a reply; and at the same time, he looked the soi-disant gardener over, from head to foot. "You have made a good choice, too," he added; "for my old friend here, has given a very pretty description of a very nice place."

"This, I should think, had the advantage, in point of ground, Sir," replied Chandos, in a well-chosen tone, neither too humble nor too elevated: "as that young plantation grows up, to cover the bare hill side, it will be very beautiful."

"I planted those trees five years ago, many of them with my own hands," said Mr. Tracy, with pride in his own work, which he feared might appear too plainly. "It is not very well done. You see, those larches in another year, will hide that beautiful bit of distance."

"One can never tell, Sir, how trees will grow up," answered Chandos, who was now completely in his part; "but that will be easily mended. Cut the back trees down that stand highest; and if you want to thicken the belt below, plant it up with a few quick-growing pines. You can move them at almost any age, so as to have it done without anybody knowing it, except by seeing the hills again."

"You seem to be a young man of very good taste," said Mr. Tracy; "but come out with me, and we will see more clearly what you mean." He opened the library window as he spoke, and they walked forth over the lawn. Mr. Tracy asked many questions as they went, cross-examined the applicant upon botany, and upon the more minute and practical part of his art; found him at least theoretically proficient, and ended by fearing that, notwithstanding his homely dress, he would prove too complete a gardener for the wages which he intended to give. It was a delicate point; for Mr. Tracy had a fondness for money. He was not a miser, far from it; he was not even one of those men--they are almost always vulgar men, in mind, if not in station--who love an economical ostentation, who are lavish for show, and stingy in secret. But there are a thousand shades in the passion of avarice, as well as in every other, from the reasonable, the just, and the wise, to the senseless self-abandonment to an all-consuming desire. Mr. Tracy had in his life known what it is to need money; he had felt in youth the pressure, not of actual want, but of straitened circumstances; and when his maternal uncle's death put him in possession of a fortune, greatly superior to his elder brother's, he retained a strong sense of the value of money, and a passion for rapidly acquiring more.

"Well, my good friend," he said, as they approached the house again, "I am quite satisfied with your knowledge and experience in these matters; and, I dare say, you have got testimonials of your character; but I fear that you have imagined the place you are now applying for to be better than it really is. It is merely that of head-gardener, in the service of a gentleman of very moderate fortune. You would have an under-gardener, and three labourers to assist; but your own wages would not be so large as, perhaps, your acquirements may entitle you."

Chandos replied, that whatever had been given to his predecessor would content him; and produced a letter from Mr. Roberts, the steward of Sir John Winslow, giving a high testimony to his general conduct, and to his skill as a practical gardener. All was then soon arranged; Mr. Tracy was anxious that his new servant should enter upon his duties as soon as possible, for the predecessor had been dead some weeks; but Chandos claimed four days for preparation, and made one or two conditions; and having been shown the cottage which he was to inhabit, took his leave, with the contract complete.

It was done; the plan he had proposed to himself was so far executed: and when, after quitting Northferry, he sat down in a small solitary room of a little road-side inn, he began to laugh, and reconsider the whole with calmer, and less impassioned thoughts, than he had previously given to the subject. How different a thing looks when it is done, and when it is doing! As soon as Fate buys a picture from any man, she turns it with its face to the wall, and its back to the seller, writes INEVITABLE upon it, with a piece of black chalk; and the poor fool can never have the same view of it again.

Chandos was a gardener--a hired servant--in that balanced state where thirty shillings a-week is thrown into the scale against slavery, just to prevent freedom from kicking the beam. A great many things had entered into the concoction of the notable scheme which he had pursued. There was the first vehement impulse of a noble but impetuous disposition; a good deal of pride, a little philosophy, and a touch of romance. He had determined to taste for a while the food of an inferior station, to know feelingly how the lowly earn their bread, and spend their lives; to see the things of humble condition not with a telescope from a height, but with the eye close to the object, and with a microscope, should need be. He had long been of opinion that it would be no misuse of time, were every young man even of much higher rank and pretensions than his own, to spend a year or more amongst the labouring classes of society, taking part in their toils, sharing their privations, learning in the school of experience their habits, wants, wishes, feelings. Our ancestors used to send their children out to a healthy cottage to nurse during their infancy, and, in many cases, (not all,) ensured thereby to their offspring robust and hardy constitutions, which could not have been gained in the luxurious dwellings of the great and high. Chandos had fancied often that such training might be as good for the mind as the body, had longed to try it, had thought it would do him good, especially when he found false views and cold conventionalities creep upon him, when he felt his judgment getting warped to the set forms of class, and his tastes becoming fastidious. Accident had fixed his resolution, and accident had given the direction in which it acted. But there were difficulties, inconveniences, regrets, which he had not thought of. We never embrace a new state without remembering with longing some of the advantages of the old one. He thought of being cut off from all refined society, with sensations not pleasurable; he thought of being discovered by old acquaintances with some sort of apprehension. But then he remembered that he was little likely to be brought into immediate contact with any of the great and high. He repeated to himself that no one had a right to question his conduct, or control his tastes. And in regard to refined occupations, to relieve the monotony of manual labour, had he not books? could he not converse with the dead? Besides, he had made one stipulation with Mr. Tracy--well nigh the only one--that he should have a month's holiday in the dead time of the year--to see his friends; such was the motive assigned. But Chandos' purpose was to spend that month in London; to re-appear for that period in his real character; to renew in it all those ties that were worth maintaining, and to enjoy the contrasts of a double life, combining the two extremes of society. His means might be small, but for that purpose they were quite sufficient; and with these consolatory reflections he finished his humble meal, and set out upon his way again.

He did not pursue the same way back which he had taken to come to Northferry, for he was anxious to save time; and he had learned at the public-house that there was a coach which passed upon the high-road at about two miles distance, which would spare him a walk of ten miles, and do in one hour what would take him two. He wound on then along lanes, through which he had been directed for about ten minutes, and was still buried in reveries, not altogether sweet, when he was suddenly roused by a loud and piercing shriek. There was a break in the hedge about fifty yards distant, showing, evidently, by the worn sandy ground before it, the opening of a foot-path. The sound came from that side, and Chandos darted towards it without further consideration.