Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  FAREWELL, DANIEL

  Thoughtful for others as she always was, this lovely and loveable youngwoman went alone, on the morning of the day that was so sorrowful forher, to bear a little share of an elder lady's sorrow, and comfort herwith hopes, or at any rate with kindness. They had shed tears togetherwhen the bad news arrived, and again when a twelvemonth had weakenedfeeble hope; and now that another year had well-nigh killed it in oldhearts too conversant with the cruelties of the world, a little talk, atender look, a gentle repetition of things that had been said at least ahundred times before, might enter by some subtle passage to the cells ofcomfort. Who knows how the welted vine leaf, when we give it shadeand moisture, crisps its curves again, and breathes new bloom uponits veinage? And who can tell how the flagging heart, beneath the coolmantle of time, revives, shapes itself into keen sympathies again, andspreads itself congenially to the altered light?

  Without thinking about it, but only desiring to do a little good,if possible, Faith took the private way through her father's groundsleading to the rectory, eastward of the village. It was scarcely twoo'clock, and the sun was shining, and the air clear and happy, as it canbe in October. She was walking rather fast, for fear of dropping intothe brooding vein, when in the little fir plantation a man came forth onher path, and stood within a few yards in front of her. She was startledfor an instant, because the place was lonely, and Captain Stubbard'sbattery crew had established their power to repulse the French bypounding their fellow-countrymen. But presently she saw that it was DanTugwell, looking as unlike himself as any man can do (without the aid ofan artist), and with some surprise she went on to meet him.

  Instead of looking bright, and bold, and fearless, with the freedom ofthe sea in his open face, and that of the sun in his clustering curls,young Daniel appeared careworn and battered, not only unlike his properself, but afraid of and ashamed of it. He stood not firmly on theground, nor lightly poised like a gallant sailor, but loosely andclumsily like a ploughman who leaves off at the end of his furrow toease the cramp. His hat looked as if he had slept in it, and his eyes asif he had not slept with them.

  Miss Darling had always been fond of Dan, from the days when they playedon the beach together, in childhood's contempt of social law. Her oldnurse used to shut her eyes, after looking round to make sure that therewas "nobody coming to tell on them," while as pretty a pair of childrenas the benevolent sea ever prattled with were making mirth and musicand romance along its margin. And though in ripe boyhood the unfaithfulDaniel transferred the hot part of his homage to the more coquettishDolly, Faith had not made any grievance of that, but rather thought allthe more of him, especially when he saved her sister's life in a veryrash boating adventure.

  So now she went up to him with a friendly mind, and asked him softly andpitifully what trouble had fallen upon him. At the sweet sound of hervoice, and the bright encouragement of her eyes, he felt as if he wasgetting better.

  "If you please, miss," he said, with a meek salutation, which proved hispanisic ideas to be not properly wrought into his system as yet--"if youplease, miss, things are very hard upon me."

  "Is it money?" she asked, with the true British instinct that all commonwoes have their origin there; "if it is, I shall be so glad that Ihappen to have a good bit put by just now."

  But Dan shook his head with such dignified sadness that Faith was quiteafraid of having hurt his feelings. "Oh, I might have known," she said,"that it was nothing of that kind. You are always so industrious andsteady. But what can it be? Is it anything about Captain Stubbardand his men, because I know you do not like them, and none of the oldSpringhaven people seem to do so? Have you been obliged to fight withany of them, Daniel?"

  "No, miss, no. I would not soil my hand by laying it on any of suchchaps as those. Unless they should go for to insult me, I mean, or anyone belonging to me. No, miss, no. It is ten times worse than money, orassault and battery."

  "Well, Daniel, I would not on any account," said Faith, with her desireof knowledge growing hotter by delay, as a kettle boils by waiting--"onno account would I desire to know anything that you do not seem to thinkmy advice might help you to get out of. I am not in a hurry, but stillmy time is getting rather late for what I have to do. By the time I comeback from the rectory, perhaps you will have made up your mind about it.Till then, good-bye to you, Daniel."

  He stepped out of the path, that she might go by, and only said, "Thengoodbye, miss; I shall be far away when you come back."

  This was more than the best-regulated, or largest--which generally isthe worst-regulated--feminine mind could put up with. Miss Darling cameback, with her mind made up to learn all, or to know the reason why.

  "Dan, this is unworthy of you," she said, with her sweet voice full ofsorrow. "Have I ever been hard or unkind to you, Dan, that you should beso afraid of me?"

  "No, miss, never. But too much the other way. That makes it so bad forme to say good-bye. I am going away, miss. I must be off this evening. Inever shall see Springhaven no more, nor you, miss--nor nobody else."

  "It is quite impossible, Dan. You must be dreaming. You don't look atall like yourself to-day. You have been doing too much over-time. I haveheard all about it, and how very hard you work. I have been quite sorryfor you on Sundays, to see you in the gallery, without a bit of rest,still obliged to give the time with your elbow. I have often beenastonished that your mother could allow it. Why, Dan, if you goaway, you will break her heart, and I don't know how many more inSpringhaven."

  "No, miss, no. They very soon mends them. It is the one as goes awaythat gets a deal the worst of it. I am sure I don't know whatever Ishall do, without the old work to attend to. But it will get on just aswell without me."

  "No, it won't," replied Faith, looking at him very sadly, and shakingher head at such cynical views; "nothing will be the same, when you aregone, Daniel; and you ought to have more consideration."

  "I am going with a good man, at any rate," he answered, "thefreest-minded gentleman that ever came to these parts. Squire Carne, ofCarne Castle, if you please, miss."

  "Mr. Caryl Carne!" cried Faith, in a tone which made Daniel look at herwith some surprise. "Is he going away? Oh, I am so glad!"

  "No, miss; not Squire Carne himself. Only to provide for me work faraway, and not to be beholden any more to my own people. And work wherea man may earn and keep his own money, and hold up his head while adoingof it."

  "Oh, Dan, you know more of such things than I do. And every man has aright to be independent, and ought to be so, and I should despisehim otherwise. But don't be driven by it into the opposite extreme ofdisliking the people in a different rank--"

  "No, miss, there is no fear of that--the only fear is liking some ofthem too much."

  "And then," continued Faith, who was now upon one of her favouritesubjects past interruption, "you must try to remember that if you workhard, so do we, or nearly all of us. From the time my father gets up inthe morning, to the time when he goes to bed at night, he has not gotfive minutes--as he tells us every day--for attending to anythingbut business. Even at dinner, when you get a good hour, and won't bedisturbed--now will you?"

  "No, miss; not if all the work was tumbling down. No workman as respectshimself would take fifty-nine minutes for sixty."

  "Exactly so; and you are right. You stand up for your rights. Yourdinner you have earned, and you will have it. And the same with yourbreakfast, and your supper too, and a good long night to get over it. Doyou jump up in bed, before you have shut both eyes, hearing or fancyingyou have heard the bell, that calls you out into the cold, and the dark,and a wet saddle, from a warm pillow? And putting that by, as a troubleof the war, and the chance of being shot at by dark tall men"--hereFaith shuddered at her own presentment, as the image of Caryl Carnepassed before her--"have you to consider, at every turn, that whateveryou do--though you mean it for the best--will be twisted and turnedagainst you by some one, and made into wickedness that you never dreamedof,
by envious people, whose grudge against you is that they fancy youlook down on them? Though I am sure of one thing, and that is that myfather, instead of looking down upon any honest man because he is poor,looks up to him; and so do I; and so does every gentleman or lady.And any one who goes about to persuade the working-people--as they arecalled, because they have to use their hands more--that people likemy father look down upon them, and treat them like dogs, and all thosewicked stories--all I can say is, any man who does it deserves to be putin the stocks, or the pillory, or even to be transported as an enemy tohis country."

  Dan looked at the lady with great surprise. He had always known herto be kind and gentle, and what the old people called "mannersome," toevery living body that came near her. But to hear her put, better thanhe could put them, his own budding sentiments (which he thought to benew, with the timeworn illusion of young Liberals), and to know from herbright cheeks, and brighter eyes, that her heart was in every word ofit, and to feel himself rebuked for the evil he had thought, and themischief he had given ear to--all this was enough to make him angry withhimself, and uncertain how to answer.

  "I am certain that you never thought of such things," Miss Darlingcontinued, with her gentle smile returning; "you are much tooindustrious and sensible for that. But I hear that some persons are nowin our parish who make it their business, for some reason of their own,to spread ill-will and jealousy and hatred everywhere, to make us allstrangers and foes to one another, and foreigners to our own country. Wehave enemies enough, by the will of the Lord (as Mr. Twemlow says), fora sharp trial to us, and a lesson to our pride, and a deep source ofgratitude, and charity, and good-will--though I scarcely understand howthey come in--and, above all, a warning to us to stick together, and notexactly hate, but still abhor, everybody who has a word to say againsthis own country at a time like this. And ten thousand times as much,if he is afraid to say it, but crawls with crafty poison into simpleEnglish bosoms."

  "There is nothing of that, miss, to my knowledge, here," the youngfisherman answered, simply; "Springhaven would never stand none ofthat; and the club drinks the health of King George every night of theirmeeting, and stamps on the floor for him. But I never shall help to dothat any more. I must be going, miss--and thank you."

  "Then you will not tell me why you go? You speak of it as if it wasagainst your will, and yet refuse to say what drives you. Have you beenpoaching, Dan? Ah, that is it! But I can beg you off immediately. Myfather is very good even to strangers, and as for his doing anything toyou--have no fear, Dan; you shall not be charged with it, even if youhave been in Brown Bushes."

  Brown Bushes, a copse about a mile inland, was the Admiral's most sacredspot, when peace allowed him to go shooting, because it was beloved bywoodcocks, his favourite birds both for trigger and for fork. But Danielonly shook his head; he had not been near Brown Bushes. Few thingsperhaps will endure more wear than feminine curiosity. But when a traphas been set too long, it gets tongue-bound, and grows content withoutcontents.

  "Daniel Tugwell," said Miss Darling, severely, "if you have not beenfighting, or conspiring against society, or even poaching, I can wellunderstand that you may have reasons for not desiring my assistance oradvice. And I only wonder that under such circumstances you took thetrouble to wait for me here, as you appear to have done. Good-bye."

  "Oh, don't be cross, miss! please not to be cross," cried Daniel,running after her; "I would tell you all about it this very instantmoment, if it were behoving to me. You will hear all about it when youget to Parson Twemlow's, for I saw mother going there, afore she had herbreakfast, though I was not concernable to let her see me. If the Squirehad been home, she would have gone up to Hall first. No, miss, no. Idone nothing to be ashamed of; and if you turn back on me, you'll besorry afterwards."

  Faith was more apt to think that she had been too sharp than to be so inbehaviour to any one. She began at once, with a blush for her bad ideas,to beg Dan's pardon, and he saw his way to say what he was come to say.

  "You always were too good, Miss Faith, too good to be hard upon any one,and I am sure you have not been hard upon me; for I know that I lookdisrespectable. But I couldn't find words to say what I wanted, untilyou spoke so soft and kind. And perhaps, when I say it, you'll be angrywith me, and think that I trespass upon you."

  "No, I won't, Dan; I will promise you that. You may tell me, as if Iwere Mr. Swipes, who says that he never lost his temper in his life,because he is always right, and other people wrong."

  "Well, miss, I'm afraid that I am not like that, and that makes me feelso uncomfortable with the difference between us. Because it is all aboutMiss Dolly, and I might seem so impudent. But you know that I wouldgo through fire and water to serve Miss Dolly, and I durstn't go awayforever without one message to her. If I was in her own rank of life,God Almighty alone should part us, whether I was rich or whether Iwas poor, and I'd like to see any one come near her! But being only anignorant fellow without any birth or book-learning, I am not such a foolas to forget that the breadth of the world lies between us. Only I maywish her well, all the same--I may wish her well and happy, miss?"

  "Certainly you may." Faith blushed at the passion of his words, andsighed at their despair. "You have saved her life. She respects andlikes you, the same as my father and I do. You may trust me with yourmessage, Dan."

  "I suppose it would not be the proper thing for me to see her oncebefore I go; just for one minute, with you standing by her, that Imight--that she might--"

  "No," answered Faith, though it grieved her to say it; "we must notthink of that, Dan. It could do you no good, and it might do her harm.But if you have any message, to be useful to her--"

  "The useful part of it must be through you, miss, and not sent to her atall, I think, or it would be very impertinent. The kind part is to giveher my good-bye, and say that I would die to help her. And the usefulpart is for yourself. For God's sake, miss, do keep Miss Dolly out ofthe way of Squire Carne! He hath a tongue equal to any woman, with themind of a man beneath it. He hath gotten me body and soul; because Icare not the skin of a dab what befalls me. But oh, miss, he nevermust get Miss Dolly. He may be a very good man in some ways, and he iswonderful free-minded; but any young lady as marries him had better haveleaped into the Culver Hole. Farewell, miss, now that I have told you."He was gone before Faith could even offer him her hand, but he tookoff his hat and put one finger to his curls, as he looked back fromthe clearing; and her eyes filled with tears, as she waved her hand andanswered, "Farewell, Daniel!"