Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER XLII

  ANSWERING THE QUESTION

  If Scudamore had not seen Dan Tugwell on board of the London Trader, andheard from his own lips that he was one of her crew, it is certain thathe would have made a strict search of her hold, according to his ordersin suspicious cases. And if he had done this, it is probable that henever would have set his nimble feet on deck again, for Perkins (theAmerican who passed as Sam Polwhele) had a heavy ship-pistol in hisgreat rough pocket, ready for the back of the young officer's head ifhe had probed below the cheeses and firkins of butter. Only two men hadfollowed the lieutenant from their boat, the rest being needed for hersafety in the strong sea running, and those two at the signal would havebeen flung overboard, and the schooner (put about for the mouth of theCanche, where heavy batteries were mounted) would have had a fair chanceof escape, with a good start, while the gun-brig was picking up herboat. Unless, indeed, a shot from the Delia should carry away animportant spar, which was not very likely at night, and with a quicksurf to baffle gunnery. However, none of these things came to pass, andso the chances require no measurement.

  Carne landed his freight with his usual luck, and resolved very wiselyto leave off that dangerous work until further urgency. He had now avery fine stock of military stores for the ruin of his native land,and especially of gunpowder, which the gallant Frenchmen were afraid ofstowing largely in their flat-bottomed craft. And knowing that he owedhis success to moderation, and the good-will of his neighbours towardsevasion of the Revenue, he thought it much better to arrange hismagazine than to add to it for a month or two.

  Moreover, he was vexed at the neglect of his advice, on the part of hisarrogant Commander, a man who was never known to take advice fromany mind external to his own body, and not even from that clear powersometimes, when his passionate heart got the uppermost. Carne, though ofinfinitely smaller mind, had one great advantage--he seldom allowed itto be curdled or crossed in its clear operations by turbulent bodilyelements. And now, when he heard from the light-hearted Charron, who hadlately been at work in London, that the only man they feared was aboutto take the lead once more against the enemies of Great Britain, CarylCarne grew bitter against his Chief, and began for the first time todoubt his success.

  "I have a great mind to go to Mr. Pitt myself, tell him everything,and throw myself upon his generosity," he thought, as he sate amonghis ruins sadly. "I could not be brought to trial as a common traitor.Although by accident of birth I am an Englishman, I am a French officer,and within my duty in acting as a pioneer for the French army. Butthen, again, they would call me at the best a spy, and in that capacityoutside the rules of war. It is a toss-up how they might take it, andthe result would depend perhaps on popular clamour. The mighty Emperorhas snubbed me. He is not a gentleman. He has not even invited me toParis, to share in the festivities and honours he proclaims. I wouldrisk it, for I believe it is the safer game, except for two obstacles,and both of those are women. Matters are growing very ticklish now. Thatold bat of a Stubbard has got scent of a rat, and is hunting about thefarm-houses. It would be bad for him if he came prowling here; that stepfor inspectors is well contrived. Twenty feet fall on his head for myfriend; even his bull-neck would get the worst of that. And then, again,there is that wretch of a Cheeseman, who could not even hang himselfeffectually. If it were not for Polly, we would pretty soon enablehim, as the Emperor enabled poor Pichegru. And after his own bona fideeffort, who would be surprised to find him sus. per coll.? But Polly isa nice girl, though becoming too affectionate. And jealous--good lack!a grocer's daughter jealous, and a Carne compelled to humour her! Whatidiots women are in the hands of a strong man! Only my mother--my motherwas not; or else my father was a weak one; which I can well believe frommy own remembrance of him. Well, one point at least shall be settledto-morrow."

  It was early in May, 1804, and Napoleon having made away to the best ofhis ability--which in that way was pre-eminent--with all possible rivalsand probable foes, was receiving addresses, and appointing dummies, andestablishing foolscap guarantees against his poor fallible and flexibleself--as he had the effrontery to call it--with all the gravity, grandbenevolence, confidence in mankind (as fools), immensity of yearningfor universal good, and intensity of planning for his own, which havehoodwinked the zanies in every age, and never more than in the presentage and country. And if France licked the dust, she could plead morethan we can--it had not been cast off from her enemy's shoes.

  Carne's love of liberty, like that of most people who talk very largelyabout it, was about as deep as beauty is declared to be; or even lessthan that, for he would not have imperilled the gloss of his epiderm forthe fair goddess. So that it irked him very little that his Chief hadsmashed up the Republic, but very greatly that his own hand shouldbe out in the cold, and have nothing put inside it to restore itscirculation. "If I had stuck to my proper line of work, in theArtillery, which has made his fortune"--he could not help saying tohimself sometimes--"instead of losing more than a year over here, andperhaps another year to follow, and all for the sake of these dirty oldruins, and my mother's revenge upon this country, I might have been aGeneral by this time almost--for nothing depends upon age in France--andworthy to claim something lofty and grand, or else to be bought off ata truly high figure. The little gunner has made a great mistake if hethinks that his flat thumb of low breed can press me down shuddering,and starving, and crouching, just until it suits him to hold up a fingerfor me. My true course is now to consider myself, to watch events, andact accordingly. My honour is free to go either way, because he has notkept his word with me; he promised to act upon my advice, and to landwithin a twelvemonth."

  There was some truth in this, for Napoleon had promised that hisagent's perilous commission in England should be discharged within atwelvemonth, and that time had elapsed without any renewal. But Carnewas clear-minded enough to know that he was bound in honour to give fairnotice, before throwing up the engagement; and that even then it wouldbe darkest dishonour to betray his confidence. He had his own sense ofhonour still, though warped by the underhand work he had stooped to; andeven while he reasoned with himself so basely, he felt that he could notdo the things he threatened.

  To a resolute man it is a misery to waver, as even the most resolutemust do sometimes; for instance, the mighty Napoleon himself. Thatgreat man felt the misery so keenly, and grew so angry with himself forletting in the mental pain, that he walked about vehemently, as a horseis walked when cold water upon a hot stomach has made colic--onlythere was nobody to hit him in the ribs, as the groom serves the nobleranimal. Carne did not stride about in that style, to cast his wrath outof his toes, because his body never tingled with the sting-nettling ofhis mind--as it is bound to do with all correct Frenchmen--and hislegs being long, he might have fallen down a hole into ancestral vaultsbefore he knew what he was up to. Being as he was, he sate still, andthought it out, and resolved to play his own game for a while, as hismaster was playing for himself in Paris.

  The next day he reappeared at his seaside lodgings, looking as comelyand stately as of old; and the kind Widow Shanks was so glad to see himthat he felt a rare emotion--good-will towards her; as the hardest manmust do sometimes, especially if others have been hard upon him. He evenchucked little Susy under the chin, which amazed her so much that shestroked her face, to make sure of its being her own, and ran awayto tell her mother that the gentleman was come home so nice. Then heordered a special repast from John Prater's--for John, on the strengthof all his winter dinners, had now painted on his sign-board "UniversalVictualler," caring not a fig for the offence to Cheeseman, who nevercame now to have a glass with him, and had spoiled all the appetiteinspired by his windows through the dismal suggestions of his rash acton the premises. Instead of flattening their noses and opening theirmouths, and exclaiming, "Oh, shouldn't I like a bit of that?" thechildren, if they ventured to peep in at all, now did it with an anxioushope of horrors, and a stealthy glance between the hams and bacon forsomething that might be
hanging up among the candles. And the worst ofit was that the wisest man in the village had failed to ascertain as yet"the reason why 'a doed it." Until that was known, the most charitableneighbours could have no hope of forgiving him.

  Miss Dolly Darling had not seen her hero of romance for a long time; butsomething told her--or perhaps somebody--that he was now at hand; and tomake sure about it, she resolved to have a walk. Faith was very busy, asthe lady of the house, in preparing for a visitor, the mother of BlythScudamore, whom she, with her usual kindness, intended to meet and bringback from the coach-road that evening; for no less than three coachesa day passed now within eight miles of Springhaven, and several of thenatives had seen them. Dolly was not to go in the carriage, becausenobody knew how many boxes the visitor might bring, inasmuch as she wasto stop ever so long. "I am tired of all this fuss," cried Dolly; "onewould think Queen Charlotte was coming, at the least; and I daresay nearly all her luggage would go into the door-pocket. They aredreadfully poor; and it serves them right, for being so dreadfullyhonest."

  "If you ever fall into poverty," said Faith, "it will not be from thatcause. When you get your money, you don't pay your debts. You think thatpeople should be proud to work for you for nothing. There is one houseI am quite ashamed to pass by with you. How long have you owed poorShoemaker Stickfast fifteen shillings and sixpence? And you takeadvantage of him, because he dare not send it in to father."

  "Fashionable ladies never pay their debts," Dolly answered, as she spunround on one light heel, to float out a new petticoat that she was veryproud of; "this isn't paid for, nor this, nor this; and you with yourslow head have no idea how it adds to the interest they possess. If Iam not allowed to have a bit of fashion in my dress, I can be in thefashion by not paying for it."

  "It is a most happy thing for you, dear child, that you are kept undersome little control. What you would do, I have not the least idea, ifyou were not afraid of dear father, as you are. The worst of it is thathe is never here now for as much as two days together. And then he is soglad to see us that he cannot attend to our discipline or take notice ofour dresses."

  "Ha! you have inspired me!" exclaimed Dolly, who rejoiced in teasingFaith. "The suggestion is yours, and I will act upon it. From thevillage of Brighthelmstone, which is growing very fine, I willprocure upon the strictest credit a new Classic dress, with all tacklecomplete--as dear father so well expresses it--and then I will promenademe on the beach, with Charles in best livery and a big stick behind me.How then will Springhaven rejoice, and every one that hath eyes clap aspy-glass to them! And what will old Twemlow say, and that frump ofan Eliza, who condescends to give me little hints sometimes abouttightening up SO, perhaps, and letting out so, and permitting a littleair to come in HERE--"

  "Do be off, you wicked little animal!" cried Faith, who in spite ofherself could not help laughing, so well was Dolly mimicking ElizaTwemlow's voice, and manner, and attitude, and even her figure, lessfitted by nature for the Classic attire; "you are wasting all my time,and doing worse with your own. Be off, or I'll take a stick to 'e, asold Daddy Stakes says to the boys."

  Taking advantage of this state of things, the younger Miss Darling setforth by herself to dwell upon the beauty of the calm May sea, and herown pretty figure glassed in tidal pools. She knew that she would showto the utmost of her gifts, with her bright complexion softly gleamingin the sun, and dark gray eyes through their deep fringe receiving andreturning tenfold the limpid glimmer of the shore. And she felt that thespring of the year was with her, the bound of old Time that renews hisyouth and powers of going at any pace; when the desire of the young isto ride him at full gallop, and the pleasure of the old is to stroke hisnose and think.

  Dolly, with everything in her favour, youth and beauty, the time ofyear, the time of day, and the power of the place, as well as her ownwish to look lovely, and to be loved beyond reason, nevertheless camealong very strictly, and kept herself most careful not to look aboutat all. At any rate, not towards the houses, where people live, andtherefore must look out. At the breadth of sea, with distant shipsjotted against the sky like chips, or dotted with boats like bits ofstick; also at the playing of the little waves that ran at the bottomof the sands, just now, after one another with a lively turn, and thenjostled into white confusion, like a flock of sheep huddled up andhurrying from a dog--at these and at the warm clouds loitering in thesun she might use her bright eyes without prejudice. But soon she had toturn them upon a nearer object.

  "How absorbed we are in distant contemplation! A happy sign, I hope, inthese turbulent times. Miss Darling, will you condescend to include mein your view?"

  "I only understand simple English," answered Dolly. "Most of the othercomes from France, perhaps. We believed that you were gone abroadagain."

  "I wish that the subject had more interest for you," Carne answered,with his keen eyes fixed on hers, in the manner that half angered andhalf conquered her. "My time is not like that of happy young ladies,with the world at their feet, and their chief business in it, todiscover some new amusement."

  "You are not at all polite. But you never were that, in spite of yourFrench education."

  "Ah, there it is again! You are so accustomed to the flattery of greatpeople that a simple-minded person like myself has not the smallestchance of pleasing you. Ah, well! It is my fate, and I must yield toit."

  "Not at all," replied Dolly, who could never see the beauty of that kindof resignation, even in the case of Dan Tugwell. "There is no such thingas fate for a strong-willed man, though there may be for poor women."

  "May I tell you my ideas about that matter? If so, come and rest fora moment in a quiet little shelter where the wind is not so cold. Forthere is no such thing as Spring in England."

  Dolly hesitated, and with the proverbial result. To prove himself morepolite than she supposed, Caryl Carne, hat in hand and with low bowspreserving a respectful distance, conducted her to a little place ofshelter, so pretty and humble and secluded by its own want of art, andsimplicity of skill, that she was equally pleased and surprised with it.

  "Why, it is quite a little bower!" she exclaimed; "as pretty a littlenest as any bird could wish for. And what a lovely view towards the westand beyond Pebbleridge! One could sit here forever and see the sun set.But I must have passed it fifty times without the least suspicion of it.How on earth have you managed to conceal it so? That is to say, if it isyour doing. Surely the children must have found it out, because they goeverywhere."

  "One brat did. But I gave him such a scare that he never stopped roaringtill next Sunday, and it frightened all the rest from looking round thatcorner. If any other comes, I shall pitch-plaster him, for I could notendure that noise again. But you see, at a glance, why you have failedto see it, as we always do with our little oversights, when humblypointed out to us. It is the colour of the ground and the backgroundtoo, and the grayness of the scanty growth that hides it. Nobody findsit out by walking across it, because of this swampy place on your side,and the shoot of flints down from the cliff on the other, all sharp asa knife, and as rough as a saw. And nobody comes down to this end of thewarren, neither is it seen from the battery on the hill. Only from theback is it likely to be invaded, and there is nothing to make peoplelook, or come, up here. So you have me altogether at your mercy, MissDarling."

  Dolly thought within herself that it was much the other way, but couldnot well express her thoughts to that effect. And being of a brisk andversatile--not to say volatile--order, she went astray into a course ofwonder concerning the pretty little structure she beheld. Structure wasnot the proper word for it at all; for it seemed to have grown from thenature around, with a little aid of human hands to guide it. Branches ofsea-willow radiant with spring, and supple sprays of tamarisk recoveringfrom the winter, were lightly inwoven and arched together, with thesoft compliance of reed and rush from the marsh close by, and the stoutassistance of hazel rods from the westward cliff. The back was affordedby a grassy hillock, with a tuft or two of brake-fern t
hrowing up theirbronzy crockets among the sprayed russet of last year's pride. Andbeneath them a ledge of firm turf afforded as fair a seat as even twosweet lovers need desire.

  "How clever he is, and how full of fine taste!" thought thesimple-minded Dolly; "and all this time I have been taking him for agloomy, hard-hearted, unnatural man. Blyth Scudamore never could havemade this lovely bower."

  In this conclusion she was altogether wrong. Scudamore could have madeit, and would have made it gladly, with bright love to help him. ButCarne never could, and would have scorned the pleasant task. It wasCharron, the lively Frenchman, who, with the aid of old Jerry, hadachieved this pretty feat, working to relieve his dull detention, witha Frenchman's playful industry and tasteful joy in nature. But Carne wasnot likely to forego this credit.

  "I think I have done it pretty well," he said, in reply to her smile ofadmiration; "with such scanty materials, I mean, of course. And I shallthink I have done it very well indeed, if you say that you like it, andcrown it with new glory by sitting for a moment in its unpretentiousshade. If your brother comes down, as I hope he will, next week, I shallbeg him to come and write a poem here. The place is fitter for a poetthan a prosy vagabond like me."

  "It is very hard that you should be a--a wanderer, I mean," Dollyanswered, looking at him with a sweet thrill of pity; "you have donenothing to deserve it. How unfairly fortune has always treated you!"

  "Fortune could make me a thousand times more than the just compensationeven now, if she would. Such a glorious return for all my bitter lossesand outcast condition, that I should--but it is useless to think of suchthings, in my low state. The fates have been hard with me, but nevershall they boast that they drove me from my pure sense of honour. Ohyes, it is damp. But let me cure it thus."

  For Dolly, growing anxious about his meaning, yet ready to think aboutanother proposal, was desirous to sit down on the sweet ledge of grass,yet uneasy about her pale blue sarsenet, and uncertain that she had notseen something of a little sea-snail (living in a yellow house, dadoedwith red), whom to crush would be a cruel act to her dainty fabric. Butif he was there, he was sat upon unavenged; for Carne, pulling off hislight buff cloak, flung it on the seat; after which the young lady couldscarcely be rude enough not to sit.

  "Oh, I am so sorry now! Perhaps it will be spoiled," she said; "foryou say that the fates are against you always. And I am sure that theyalways combine against me, when I wear anything of that colour."

  "I am going the wrong way to work," thought Carne. "What a little vixenit is; but what a beauty!" For his love for her was chiefly a man'sadmiration. And bodily she looked worthy now of all that could be donein that way, with the light flowing in through the budded arch andflashing upon the sweet flush of her cheeks. Carne gazed at her withouta word or thought, simply admiring, as he never had admired anything,except himself, till now. Then she felt all the meaning of his gaze, andturned away.

  "But you must look at me and tell me something," he said, in a lowvoice, and taking both her hands; "you shall tell me what my fate mustbe. Whether you can ever come to love me, as I have loved you, long andlong."

  "You have no right to speak to me like that," she answered, stillavoiding his eyes, and striving to show proper anger; "no gentlemanwould think of taking advantage of a lady so."

  "I care not what is right or wrong. Look up, and tell me that you hateme. Dolly, I suppose you do."

  "Then you are quite wrong"--she gave him one bright glance ofcontradiction; "no. I have always been so sorry for you, and for allyour troubles. You must not ask me to say more."

  "But I must; I must. That is the very thing that I must do. Only saythat you love me, Dolly. Dolly darling, tell me that. Or let your lovelyeyes say it for you."

  "My lovely eyes must not tell stories"--they were gazing softly at himnow--"and I don't think I can say it--yet."

  "But you will--you shall!" he exclaimed, with passion growing as he drewher near; "you shall not slip from me, you shall not stir, until youhave answered me one question--is there anybody else, my Dolly?"

  "You frighten me. You forget who I am. Of course there are a great manyelse, as you call it; and I am not to be called, for a moment, YOURDOLLY."

  "No, not for a moment, but forever." Carne was accustomed to the ways ofgirls, and read all their words by the light of their eyes. "Yourlittle heart begins to know who loves it better than all the worldput together. And for that reason I will leave you now. Farewell, mydarling; I conquer myself, for the sake of what is worth a thousand ofit."

  Dolly was in very sad confusion, and scarcely knew what she might donext--that is to say, if he still went on. Pleasant conceit and brightcoquetry ill supply the place of honest pride and gentle self-respect,such as Faith was blest with. Carne might have kissed Dolly a hundredtimes, without much resistance, for his stronger will had mastered hers;but she would have hated him afterwards. He did not kiss her once;and she almost wished that he had offered one--one little tribute ofaffection (as the Valentines express it)--as soon as he was gone, andthe crisis of not knowing what to do was past. "I should have let him--Ibelieve I should," she reflected, sagely recovering herself; "but howglad I ought to be that he didn't! And I do hope he won't come backagain. The next time I meet him, I shall sink into the earth."

  For her hat had fallen off, and her hair was out of order, and she sawtwo crinkles near the buckle of her waist; and she had not so much as alooking-glass to be sure that she looked nice again. With a heavy sighfor all these woes, she gathered a flossy bud of willow, and fixed it onher breast-knot, to defy the world; and then, without heed of the sea,sun, or sands, went home with short breath, and quick blushes, and somewonder; for no man's arm, except her father's, had ever been round herwaist till now.