CHAPTER VII
IT was a lovely afternoon on the last day of May. The sea and all thetoil and travail belonging to it was overpass, and Judge Rawdon, Ruthand Ethel were driving in lazy, blissful contentment through one ofthe lovely roads of the West Riding. On either hand the beautifullycut hedges were white and sweet, and a caress of scent--the soul ofthe hawthorne flower enfolded them. Robins were singing on the topmostsprays, and the linnet's sweet babbling was heard from the happy nestsin its secret places; while from some unseen steeple the joyful soundof chiming bells made music between heaven and earth fit for bands oftraveling angels.
They had dined at a wayside inn on jugged hare, roast beef, andYorkshire pudding, clotted cream and haver (oaten) bread, and thecareless stillness of physical well-being and of minds at ease needed nospeech, but the mutual smiling nod of intimate sympathy. For the senseof joy and beauty which makes us eloquent is far inferior to that sensewhich makes us silent.
This exquisite pause in life was suddenly ended by an exclamation fromthe Judge. They were at the great iron gates of Rawdon Park, andsoon were slowly traversing its woody solitudes. The soft light, theunspeakable green of the turf, the voice of ancient days murmuring inthe great oak trees, the deer asleep among the ferns, the stillnessof the summer afternoon filling the air with drowsy peace this was theatmosphere into which they entered. Their road through this grand parkof three hundred acres was a wide, straight avenue shaded with beechtrees. The green turf on either hand was starred with primroses. In thedeep undergrowth, ferns waved and fanned each other, and the scent ofhidden violets saluted as they passed. Drowsily, as if half asleep,the blackbirds whistled their couplets, and in the thickest hedges thelittle brown thrushes sang softly to their brooding mates. For half anhour they kept this heavenly path, and then a sudden turn brought themtheir first sight of the old home.
It was a stately, irregular building of red brick, sandaled and veiledin ivy. The numerous windows were all latticed, the chimneys inpicturesque stacks, the sloping roof made of flags of sandstone. Itstood in the center of a large garden, at the bottom of which ran ababbling little river--a cheerful tongue of life in the sweet, silentplace. They crossed it by a pretty bridge, and in a few minutes stoodat the great door of the mansion. It was wide open, and the Squire, withoutstretched hands, rose to meet them. While yet upon the threshold hekissed both Ethel and Ruth, and, clasping the Judge's hand, gazed at himwith such a piercing, kindly look that the eyes of both men filled withtears.
He led them into the hall, and standing there he seemed almost a part ofit. In his youth he had been a son of Anak, and his great size had beenmatched by his great strength. His stature was still large, his facebroad and massive, and an abundance of snow-white hair emphasized thedignity of a countenance which age had made nobler. The generations ofeight hundred years were crystallized in this benignant old man, lookingwith such eager interest into the faces of his strange kindred from afar-off land.
In the evening they sat together in the old hall talking of the Rawdons."There is great family of us, living and dead," said the Squire, "and Icount them all my friends. Bare is the back that has no kin behind it.That is not our case. Eight hundred years ago there was a Rawdon inRawdon, and one has never been wanting since. Saxon, Danish, Norman, andStuart kings have been and gone their way, and we remain; and I can tellyou every Rawdon born since the House of Hanover came to England. Wehave had our share in all England's strife and glory, for if there wasever a fight going on anywhere Rawdon was never far off. Yes, we canstring the centuries together in the battle flags we have won. Seethere!" he cried, pointing to two standards interwoven above the centralchimney-piece; "one was taken from the Paynim in the first Crusade, andthe other my grandson took in Africa. It seems but yesterday, and QueenVictoria gave him the Cross for it. Poor lad, he had it on when he died.It went to the grave with him. I wouldn't have it touched. I fancy theRawdons would know it. No one dare say they don't. I think they meddle agood deal more with this life than we count on."
The days that followed were days in The House Wonderful. It held thetreasure-trove of centuries; all its rooms were full of secrets.Even the common sitting-room had an antique homeliness that provokedquestions as to the dates of its furniture and the whereabouts of itswall cupboards and hidden recesses. Its china had the marks of forgottenmakers, its silver was puzzling with half-obliterated names and dates,its sideboard of oak was black with age and full of table accessories,the very names of which were forgotten. For this house had not beenbuilt in the ordinary sense, it had grown through centuries; grown outof desire and necessity, just as a tree grows, and was therefore fitand beautiful. And it was no wonder that about every room floatedthe perfume of ancient things and the peculiar family aura that hadsaturated all the inanimate objects around them.
In a few days, life settled itself to orderly occupations. The Squirewas a late riser; the Judge and his family breakfasted very early. Thenthe two women had a ride in the park, or wandered in the garden, or satreading, or sewing, or writing in some of the sweet, fair rooms. Manyvisitors soon appeared, and there were calls to return and courtesies toaccept. Among these visitors the Tyrrel-Rawdons were the earliest. Therepresentatives of that family were Nicholas Rawdon and his wife Lydia.Nicholas Rawdon was a large, stout man, very arrogant, very complete,very alert for this world, and not caring much about the other. He wasnot pleased at Judge Rawdon's visit, but thought it best to becousinly until his cousin interfered with his plans--"rights" he calledthem--"and then!" and his "THEN" implied a great deal, for NicholasRawdon was a man incapable of conceiving the idea of loving an enemy.
His wife was a pleasant, garrulous woman, who interested Ethel verymuch. Her family was her chief topic of conversation. She had twodaughters, one of whom had married a baronet, "a man with money and easyto manage"; and the other, "a rich cotton lord in Manchester."
"They haven't done badly," she said confidentially, "and it's a greatthing to get girls off your hands early. Adelaide and Martha were welleducated and suitable, but," she added with a glow of pride, "you shouldsee my John Thomas. He's manager of the mill, and he loves the mill, andhe knows every pound of warp or weft that comes in or goes out of themill; and what his father would do without him, I'm sure I don't know.And he is a member of Parliament, too--Radical ticket. Won over Mostyn.Wiped Mostyn out pretty well. That was a thing to do, wasn't it?"
"I suppose Mr. Mostyn was the Conservative candidate?"
"You may be sure of that. But my John Thomas doesn't blame him forit--the gentry have to be Conservatives. John Thomas said little againsthis politics; he just set the crowd laughing at his ways--his dandifiedways. And he tried to wear one eyeglass, and let it fall, and fall, andthen told the men 'he couldn't manage half a pair of spectacles; but hecould manage their interests and fight for their rights,' and such liketalk. And he walked like Mostyn, and he talked like Mostyn, and spreadout his legs, and twirled his walking stick like Mostyn, and asked them'if they would wish him to go to Parliament in that kind of a shape, ashe'd try and do it if they wanted a tailor-made man'; and they laughedhim down, and then he spoke reasonable to them. John Thomas knows whatYorkshire weavers want, and he just prom-ised them everything they hadset their hearts on; and so they sent him to Parliament, and Mostyn wentto America, where, perhaps, they'll teach him that a man's life is wortha bit more than a bird or a rabbit. Mostyn is all for preserving game,and his father was a mean creature. When one thinks of his father, onehas to excuse the young man a little bit."
"I saw a good deal of Mr. Mostyn in New York," said Ethel. "He used tospeak highly of his father."
"I'll warrant he did; and he ought to keep at it, for he's the only onein this world that will use his tongue for that end. Old Samuel Mostynnever learned to live godly or even manly, but after his death he ceasedto do evil, and that, I've no doubt, often feels like a blessing to themthat had to live anyway near to him. But my John Thomas!"
"Oh," cried Ethel, laughing, "you must not tell
me so much about JohnThomas; he might not like it."
"John Thomas can look all he does and all he says straight in the face.You may talk of him all day, and find nothing to say that a good girllike you might not listen to. I should have brought him with us, buthe's away now taking a bit of a holiday. I'm sure he needs it."
"Where is he taking his holiday?"
"Why, he went with a cousin to show him the sights of London; butsomehow they got through London sights very quick, and thought theymight as well put Paris in. I wish they hadn't. I don't trust foreignersand foreign ways, and they don't have the same kind of money as ours;but Nicholas says I needn't worry; he is sure that our John Thomas, ifchange is to make, will make it to suit himself."
"How soon will he be home?"
"I might say to-day or any other early day. He's been idling for a monthnow, and his father says 'the very looms are calling out for him.' I'llbring him to see you just as soon as he comes home, looms or no looms,and he'll be fain to come. No one appreciates a pretty girl more thanJohn Thomas does."
So the days passed sweetly and swiftly onward, and there was no troublein them. Such business as was to be done went on behind the closeddoors of the Squire's office, and with no one present but himself, JudgeRawdon, and the attorneys attached to the Rawdon and Mostyn estates. Andas there were no entanglements and no possible reason for disputing,a settlement was quickly arrived at. Then, as Mostyn's return wasuncertain, an attorney's messenger, properly accredited, was sent toAmerica to procure his signatures. Allowing for unforeseen delays, theperfected papers of release might certainly be on hand by the fifteenthof July, and it was proposed on the first of August to give a dinnerand dance in return for the numerous courtesies the American Rawdons hadreceived.
As this date approached Ruth and Ethel began to think of a visit toLondon. They wanted new gowns and many other pretty things, and why notgo to London for them? The journey was but a few hours, and two or threedays' shopping in Regent Street and Piccadilly would be delightful. "Wewill make out a list of all we need this afternoon," said Ruth, "andwe might as well go to-morrow morning as later," and at this momenta servant entered with the mail. Ethel lifted her letter with anexclamation. "It is from Dora," she said, and her voice had a tone ofannoyance in it. "Dora is in London, at the Savoy. She wants to see mevery much."
"I am so sorry. We have been so happy."
"I don't think she will interfere much, Ruth."
"My dears," said Judge Rawdon, "I have a letter from Fred Mostyn. He iscoming home. He will be in London in a day or two."
"Why is he coming, father?"
"He says he has a proposal to make about the Manor. I wish he were notcoming. No one wants his proposal." Then the breakfast-table, which hadbeen so gay, became silent and depressed, and presently the Judge wentaway without exhibiting further interest in the London journey.
"I do wish Dora would let us alone," said Ruth. "She always bringsdisappointment or worry of some kind. And I wonder what is the meaningof this unexpected London visit. I thought she was in Holland."
"She said in her last letter that London would be impossible beforeAugust."
"Is it an appointment--or a coincidence?"
And Ethel, lifting her shoulders sarcastically, as if in hostilesurrender to the inevitable, answered:
"It is a fatality!"
The Man Between: An International Romance Page 7