Читать книгу Cradock Nowell - R. D. Blackmore - Страница 17

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Men of high culture and sensitive justice, who have much to do with ill–taught workmen, lie under a terrible disadvantage. They fear to presume upon the mere accident of their own position, they dread to extract more dues from another than they in his place would render, they shrink from saying what may recall the difference betwixt them, they cannot bear to be stiff and dogmatic, yet they know that any light word may be taken in heavy earnest. True sympathy is the only thing to bring master and man together; and sympathy is a subtle vein, direct when nature hits it, but crooked and ungrammatical to the syntax of education. Cradock Nowell often touched it, without knowing how; and hence his popularity among the “lower classes”. Clayton hit upon it only in the softer sex. Bull Garnet knew how to move it deeply, and owed his power to that knowledge, even more than to his energy.

Cradock was pondering these things in the pipe of contemplation, when a pair of keen eyes twinkled in at the window, and a shrewd, shrill voice made entry.

“Pray let me in, Mr. Cradock Nowell; I want to inquire about the grapes”.

“What a wonderful man that is”! said Cradock to himself, as he came from his corner reluctantly to open the French window; “there is nothing he doesnʼt inquire about. Erotetic philosopher! He has only been here some three or four days, and he knows all our polity better than we do! I wish his wife would come; though I believe he is an honest fellow”.

Unconscious of any satirical antithesis, he opened the window, and admitted the polypragmonic doctor; and, knowing that homœopathic treatment is the wisest for garrulous subjects, he began upon him at once. Nor omitted a spice of domesticity, which he thought would be sovereign.

“Now, Dr. Hutton, it is too bad of you to wander about like a bachelor. How long before we have the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Hutton”?

“My dear boy, you know the reason; I hope you know the reason. Your roads are very rough for ladies, especially when in delicate health, and our four–wheel is being mended. So I rode over alone; and what a lovely ride it is! Ah, Clayton—yes, I saw Clayton somewhere. But your father has promised most kindly to send a carriage to–morrow to Geopharmacy Lodge—the name of our little place, sir”.

At the thought of his home, the little doctor pulled up both his shirt–collars, and looked round the room disparagingly.

“Oh, I am very glad to hear it. Meanwhile, you would like to see our grapes. Let me show you the way to the vinery; though I cannot take you without misgivings. Your gardening fame has frightened us. Our old man, Snip, is quite afraid of your new lights and experience”.

“Sensible lad”, muttered Rufus Hutton, who was pleasantly conceited—“uncommonly sensible lad! I am not at all sure that he isnʼt a finer fellow than Clayton. But I must take my opportunity now, while he has his stock off. There is something wrong: I am sure of it”.

“Excuse me a moment”, said Cradock; “I am sorry to keep you waiting, but I must just put on my neckerchief, if I can only find it. How very odd! I could have declared I put it on that table”.

“Whatʼs that I see on the floor there, by the corner of the bookcase”? Rufus pointed his cane at the tie, which lay where himself had thrown it.

“Oh, thank you; I must be getting blind, for I am sure I looked there just now”.

While the young man stooped forward, the little doctor, who had posted himself for the purpose, secured a quick glimpse at the back of his neck, where the curling hair fell sideways. That glance increased his surprise, and confirmed his strange suspicions. The surprise and suspicion had broken upon him, as he stood by the farmerʼs wicket, and Cradock sprang up to the bowling crease; now, in his excitement and curiosity, he forgot all scruples. It was strange that he had felt any, for he was not very sensitive; but Cradock, with all his good nature, had a certain unconscious dignity, from which Dr. Hutton retreated.

“The grapes I came to inquire about”, said Rufus, with much solemnity, “are not those in the vinery, which I have seen often enough, but those on your neck, Mr. Nowell”.

Cradock looked rather amazed, but more at the inquirerʼs manner than at his seeming impertinence.

“I really cannot see how the ‘grapes’, as some people call the blue lines on my neck, can interest you, sir, or are important enough to be spoken of”.

“Then I do, Cradock Nowell. Do you refuse to let me see them”?

“Certainly not; though I should refuse it to almost any one else. Not that I am sensitive about such a trifle. You, as a medical man, and an old friend of my father, are welcome to your autopsy. Is not that what you call it, sir”?

Nevertheless, from the tone of his voice, Rufus Hutton knew that he liked it not—for it was a familiarity, and seemed to the youth a childish one.

“Sit down, young man, sit down”, said the doctor, very pompously, and waiving further discussion. “I am not—I mean to say you are taller than when I first—ah, yes, manipulated you”.

As the doctor warmed to his subject, he grew more and more professional, and perhaps less gentlemanly, until his good feelings came into play, for his heart, after all, was right. All the terms which he used shall not be repeated, because of their being so medical. Only this, that he said at last, after a long inspection—

“Sir, this confirms to a nicety my metrostigmatic theory”.

“Dr. Hutton, I know not what you mean, neither do I wish to know”.

Cradock put on his neckerchief anyhow, and walked to his chair by the mantelpiece, although no fire was burning. The medical man said nothing, but gravely looked out of the window. Presently the young gentleman felt that he was not acting hospitably.

“Excuse me, sir, if I have seemed rude; but you do not know how these things—— I mean, when I think of my mother. Let me ring for some sherry and sandwiches; you have had no lunch”.

“Ring for some brandy, my boy; and give me a cheroot. Fine property! Look at the sweep of the land—and to think of losing it all”!

Instead of ringing, Cradock went and fetched the cognac himself, and took down a glass from a cupboard.

“Two glasses, my dear boy, two”.

“No, sir; I never touch it”.

“Then take it now, for the first time. Here, let me feel your pulse”.

“Once for all, I beg you to tell me what is all this mystery? Do you think I am a child”?

“Fill your pipe again, while I light a cigar”.

Cradock did as he was told, although with trembling hands. Rufus Hutton went for a wine–glass, filled it with brandy, and pushed it across, then gulped down half a tumblerful; but Cradock did not taste his.

“Now, my boy, can you bear some very bad news indeed”?

“Anything better than this suspense. I have heard some bad news lately, which has seasoned me for anything”.

He referred to Amy Rosedew.

“It is this. You are not your fatherʼs heir; you are only the younger son”.

“Is that all”?

“All! Isnʼt that enough? Good God! What more would you have?—you donʼt deserve brandy”.

“My father will be glad, and so will Clayton, and—perhaps one other. But I donʼt mean to say that I am”.

“I should rather fancy not. But you take it most philosophically”!

Dr. Hutton gazed at the poor young fellow in surprise and admiration, trying vainly to make him out. Then he reached over to Cradockʼs elbow, took his glass of cognac, and swallowed it.

“This has upset me, my boy, more than you. How miserable I felt about it! But perhaps you place no faith in the assertion I have made”?

“Indeed, it has quite amazed me; and I have had no time to think of it. My head seems spinning round. Please to say no more just for a minute or two, unless you find it uncomfortable”.

He leaned back in his chair, and tried to think, but could not.

Rufus Hutton said nothing. In spite of all his experience, the scene was very strange to him; and he watched it out with interest, which deepened into strong feeling.

“Now, Dr. Hutton”, said the youth, trying to look as he thought he ought, though he could not keep the tears back, “I beg you to think of me no more. Let us have the strictest justice. I have not known you so long—so long as you have known me—but I feel that you would not say what you have said, without the strongest evidence”.

“Confound me for a meddlesome fool! My dear boy, no one has heard us. Let us sink the matter entirely. Least said, soonest mended”.

“What do you mean? Do you think for a moment that I would be a blackguard”?

“Hush!—donʼt get so excited. Why, you look as fierce as Bull Garnet. All I mean is—you know the old saying—ʼQuieta non movere’ ”.

“The motto of fools and dastards. ‘Have it out’, is an Englishmanʼs rule. No sneaking tricks for me, sir. Oh, what a fool I am! I beg your pardon with all my heart; you will make allowances for me. Instead of being rude, I ought to be grateful for kindness which even involves your honour”.

And he held out his hand to the doctor.

“Crad, my dear boy”, exclaimed Mr. Hutton, with a big tear twinkling in each little eye, “the finest thing I ever did was showing you to the daylight. If I rob you of what has appeared your birthright, curse all memorandum–books, and even my metrostigmatic treatise, which I fully meant to immortalize me”.

“And so I hope it may do. I am not so calm as I ought to be. Somehow a fellow canʼt be, when he is taken off the hooks so. I know you will allow for this; I beg you to allow for nothing else, except a gentlemanʼs delicacy. Give me your reasons, or not, as you like. The matter will be for my father”.

Cradock looked proud and beautiful. But the depth of his eyes was troubled. A thousand thoughts were moving there, like the springs that feed a lake.

“Hah, ho, very hard work”! said Rufus Hutton, puffing; “I vote that we adjourn. I do love the open air so, ever since I took to gardening”.

Rufus Hutton hated “sentiment”, but he could not always get rid of it.