Can You Forgive Her?

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER VIII.

  Mr. Cheesacre.

  Yarmouth is not a happy place for a picnic. A picnic should be heldamong green things. Green turf is absolutely an essential. Thereshould be trees, broken ground, small paths, thickets, and hiddenrecesses. There should, if possible, be rocks, old timber, moss, andbrambles. There should certainly be hills and dales,--on a smallscale; and above all, there should be running water. There should beno expanse. Jones should not be able to see all Greene's movements,nor should Augusta always have her eye upon her sister Jane. But thespot chosen for Mr. Cheesacre's picnic at Yarmouth had none of thevirtues above described. It was on the seashore. Nothing was visiblefrom the site but sand and sea. There were no trees there and nothinggreen;--neither was there any running water. But there was a long,dry, flat strand; there was an old boat half turned over, under whichit was proposed to dine; and in addition to this, benches, boards,and some amount of canvas for shelter were provided by the liberalityof Mr. Cheesacre. Therefore it was called Mr. Cheesacre's picnic.

  But it was to be a marine picnic, and therefore the essentialattributes of other picnics were not required. The idea had come fromsome boating expeditions, in which mackerel had been caught, andduring which food had been eaten, not altogether comfortably, in theboats. Then a thought had suggested itself to Captain Bellfield thatthey might land and eat their food, and his friend Mr. Cheesacre hadpromised his substantial aid. A lady had surmised that Ormesby sandswould be the very place for dancing in the cool of the evening. Theymight "Dance on the sand," she said, "and yet no footing seen." Andso the thing had progressed, and the picnic been inaugurated.

  It was Mr. Cheesacre's picnic undoubtedly. Mr. Cheesacre was to supplythe boats, the wine, the cigars, the music, and the carpenter's worknecessary for the turning of the old boat into a banqueting saloon.But Mrs. Greenow had promised to provide the eatables, and enjoyed asmuch of the _eclat_ as the master of the festival. She had known Mr.Cheesacre now for ten days and was quite intimate with him. He was astout, florid man, of about forty-five, a bachelor, apparently muchattached to ladies' society, bearing no sign of age except that hewas rather bald, and that grey hairs had mixed themselves with hiswhiskers, very fond of his farming, and yet somewhat ashamed of itwhen he found himself in what he considered to be polite circles. Andhe was, moreover, a little inclined to seek the honour which comesfrom a well-filled and liberally-opened purse. He liked to give a mana dinner and then to boast of the dinner he had given. He was veryproud when he could talk of having mounted, for a day's hunting, anyman who might be supposed to be of higher rank than himself. "I hadGrimsby with me the other day,--the son of old Grimsby of Hatherwick,you know. Blessed if he didn't stake my bay mare. But what matters? Imounted him again the next day just the same." Some people thought hewas soft, for it was very well known throughout Norfolk that youngGrimsby would take a mount wherever he could get it. In these daysMrs. Greenow had become intimate with Mr. Cheesacre, and had alreadylearned that he was the undoubted owner of his own acres.

  "It wouldn't do for me," she had said to him, "to be putting myselfforward, as if I were giving a party myself, or anything of thatsort;--would it now?"

  "Well, perhaps not. But you might come with us."

  "So I will, Mr. Cheesacre, for that dear girl's sake. I should neverforgive myself if I debarred her from all the pleasures of youth,because of my sorrows. I need hardly say that at such a time as thisnothing of that sort can give me any pleasure."

  "I suppose not," said Mr. Cheesacre, with solemn look.

  "Quite out of the question." And Mrs. Greenow wiped away her tears."For though as regards age I might dance on the sands as merrily asthe best of them--"

  "That I'm sure you could, Mrs. Greenow."

  "How's a woman to enjoy herself if her heart lies buried?"

  "But it won't be so always, Mrs. Greenow."

  Mrs. Greenow shook her head to show that she hardly knew how to answersuch a question. Probably it would be so always;--but she did notwish to put a damper on the present occasion by making so sad adeclaration. "But as I was saying," continued she--"if you and I doit between us won't that be the surest way of having it come offnicely?"

  Mr. Cheesacre thought that it would be the best way.

  "Exactly so;--I'll do the meat and pastry and fruit, and you shall dothe boats and the wine."

  "And the music," said Cheesacre, "and the expenses at the place." Hedid not choose that any part of his outlay should go unnoticed.

  "I'll go halves in all that if you like," said Mrs. Greenow. But Mr.Cheesacre had declined this. He did not begrudge the expense, butonly wished that it should be recognised.

  "And, Mr. Cheesacre," continued Mrs. Greenow. "I did mean to send themusic; I did, indeed."

  "I couldn't hear of it, Mrs. Greenow."

  "But I mention it now, because I was thinking of getting Blowehardto come. That other man, Flutey, wouldn't do at all out in the openair."

  "It shall be Blowehard," said Mr. Cheesacre; and it was Blowehard. Mrs.Greenow liked to have her own way in these little things, though herheart did lie buried.

  On the morning of the picnic Mr. Cheesacre came down to MontpelierParade with Captain Bellfield, whose linen on that occasion certainlygave no outward sign of any quarrel between him and his washerwoman.He was got up wonderfully, and was prepared at all points for theday's work. He had on a pseudo-sailor's jacket, very liberallyornamented with brass buttons, which displayed with great judgementthe exquisite shapes of his pseudo-sailor's duck trousers. Beneaththem there was a pair of very shiny patent-leather shoes, welladapted for dancing on the sand, presuming him to be anxious ofdoing so, as Venus offered to do, without leaving any footmarks. Hiswaistcoat was of a delicate white fabric, ornamented with very manygilt buttons. He had bejewelled studs in his shirt, and yellow kidgloves on his hands; having, of course, another pair in his pocketfor the necessities of the evening. His array was quite perfect, andhad stricken dismay into the heart of his friend Cheesacre, when hejoined that gentleman. He was a well-made man, nearly six feet high,with dark hair, dark whiskers, and dark moustache, nearly black, butof that suspicious hue which to the observant beholder seems alwaysto tell a tale of the hairdresser's shop. He was handsome, too, withwell-arranged features,--but carrying, perhaps, in his nose somefirst symptoms of the effects of midnight amusements. Upon the whole,however, he was a nice man to look at--for those who like to look onnice men of that kind.

  Cheesacre, too, had adopted something of a sailor's garb. He had ona jacket of a rougher sort, coming down much lower than that of thecaptain, being much looser, and perhaps somewhat more like a garmentwhich a possible seaman might possibly wear. But he was disgustedwith himself the moment that he saw Bellfield. His heart had beenfaint, and he had not dared to ornament himself boldly as his friendhad done. "I say, Guss, you are a swell," he exclaimed. It may beexplained that Captain Bellfield had been christened Gustavus.

  "I don't know much about that," said the captain; "my fellow sent methis toggery, and said that it was the sort of thing. I'll changewith you if you like it." But Cheesacre could not have worn thatjacket, and he walked on, hating himself.

  It will be remembered that Mrs. Greenow had spoken with considerableseverity of Captain Bellfield's pretensions when discussing hischaracter with her niece; but, nevertheless, on the present occasionshe received him with most gracious smiles. It may be that herestimate of his character had been altered, or that she was makingsacrifice of her own feelings in consideration of Mr. Cheesacre, whowas known to be the captain's intimate friend. But she had smiles forboth of them. She had a wondrous power of smiling; and could, uponoccasion, give signs of peculiar favour to half a dozen differentgentlemen in as many minutes. They found her in the midst of hamperswhich were not yet wholly packed, while Mrs. Jones, Jeannette, and thecook of the household moved around her, on the outside of the circle,ministering to her wants. She had in her hand an outspread cleannapkin, and she wore fastened round her dress a huge c
oarse apron,that she might thus be protected from some possible ebullition ofgravy, or escape of salad mixture, or cream; but in other respectsshe was clothed in the fullest honours of widowhood. She had notmitigated her weeds by half an inch. She had scorned to make anycompromise between the world of pleasure and the world of woe. Thereshe was, a widow, declared by herself to be of four months' standing,with a buried heart, making ready a dainty banquet with skill andliberality. She was ready on the instant to sit down upon the basketsin which the grouse pie had been just carefully inhumed, and talkedabout her sainted lamb with a deluge of tears. If anybody didn't likeit, that person--might do the other thing. Mr. Cheesacre and CaptainBellfield thought that they did like it.

  "Oh, Mr. Cheesacre, if you haven't caught me before I've half done!Captain Bellfield, I hope you think my apron becoming."

  "Everything that you wear, Mrs. Greenow, is always becoming."

  "Don't talk in that way when you know--; but never mind--we willthink of nothing sad to-day if we can help it. Will we, Mr.Cheesacre?"

  "Oh dear no; I should think not;--unless it should come on to rain."

  "It won't rain--we won't think of such a thing. But, by the by,Captain Bellfield, I and my niece do mean to send out a few things,just in a bag you know, so that we may tidy ourselves up a littleafter the sea. I don't want it mentioned, because if it gets aboutamong the other ladies, they'd think we wanted to make a dressing ofit;--and there wouldn't be room for them all; would there?"

  "No; there wouldn't," said Mr. Cheesacre, who had been out on theprevious evening, inspecting, and perhaps limiting, the carpentersin their work.

  "That's just it," said Mrs. Greenow. "But there won't be any harm,will there, Mr. Cheesacre, in Jeanette's going out with our things?She'll ride in the cart, you know, with the eatables. I knowJeannette's a friend of yours."

  "We shall be delighted to have Jeanette," said Mr. Cheesacre.

  "Thank ye, sir," said Jeannette, with a curtsey.

  "Jeannette, don't you let Mr. Cheesacre turn your head; and mind youbehave yourself and be useful. Well; let me see;--what else is there?Mrs. Jones, you might as well give me that ham now. Captain Bellfield,hand it over. Don't you put it into the basket, because you'd turn itthe wrong side down. There now, if you haven't nearly made me upsetthe apricot pie." Then, in the transfer of the dishes between thecaptain and the widow, there occurred some little innocent by-play,which seemed to give offence to Mr. Cheesacre; so that that gentlemanturned his back upon the hampers and took a step away towards thedoor.

  Mrs. Greenow saw the thing at a glance, and immediately appliedherself to cure the wound. "What do you think, Mr. Cheesacre," saidshe, "Kate wouldn't come down because she didn't choose that youshould see her with an apron on over her frock!"

  "I'm sure I don't know why Miss Vavasor should care about my seeingher."

  "Nor I either. That's just what I said. Do step up into thedrawing-room; you'll find her there, and you can make her answer forherself."

  "She wouldn't come down for me," said Mr. Cheesacre. But he didn'tstir. Perhaps he wasn't willing to leave his friend with the widow.

  At length the last of the dishes was packed and Mrs. Greenow wentup-stairs with the two gentlemen. There they found Kate and two orthree other ladies who had promised to embark under the protection ofMrs. Greenow's wings. There were the two Miss Fairstairs, whom Mrs.Greenow had especially patronized, and who repaid that lady for herkindness by an amount of outspoken eulogy which startled Kate by itsaudacity.

  "Your dear aunt!" Fanny Fairstairs had said on coming into the room."I don't think I ever came across a woman with such genuine milk ofhuman kindness!"

  "Nor with so much true wit," said her sister Charlotte,--who had beencalled Charlie on the sands of Yarmouth for the last twelve years.

  When the widow came into the room, they flew at her and devoured herwith kisses, and swore that they had never seen her looking so well.But as the bright new gloves which both the girls wore had beenpresents from Mrs. Greenow, they certainly did owe her some affection.There are not many ladies who would venture to bestow such gifts upontheir friends after so very short an acquaintance; but Mrs. Greenowhad a power that was quite her own in such matters. She was alreadyon a very confidential footing with the Miss Fairstairs, and hadgiven them much useful advice as to their future prospects.

  And then was there a Mrs. Green, whose husband was first-lieutenant onboard a man-of-war on the West Indian Station. Mrs. Green was a quiet,ladylike little woman, rather pretty, very silent, and, as one wouldhave thought, hardly adapted for the special intimacy of Mrs. Greenow.But Mrs. Greenow had found out that she was alone, not very rich,and in want of the solace of society. Therefore she had, from sheergood-nature, forced herself upon Mrs. Green, and Mrs. Green, with muchtrepidation, had consented to be taken to the picnic. "I know yourhusband would like it," Mrs. Greenow had said, "and I hope I may liveto tell him that I made you go."

  There came in also a brother of the Fairstairs girls, Joe Fairstairs,a lanky, useless, idle young man, younger than them, who was supposedto earn his bread in an attorney's office at Norwich, or rather to bepreparing to earn it at some future time, and who was a heavy burdenupon all his friends. "We told Joe to come to the house," said Fannyto the widow, apologetically, "because we thought he might be usefulin carrying down the cloaks." Mrs. Greenow smiled graciously uponJoe, and assured him that she was charmed to see him, without anyreference to such services as those mentioned.

  And then they started. When they got to the door both Cheesacre andthe captain made an attempt to get possession of the widow's arm. Butshe had it all arranged. Captain Bellfield found himself constrainedto attend to Mrs. Green, while Mr. Cheesacre walked down to the beachbeside Kate Vavasor. "I'll take your arm, Mr. Joe," said the widow,"and the girls shall come with us." But when they got to the boats,round which the other comers to the picnic were already assembled,Mr. Cheesacre,--although both the boats were for the day hisown,--found himself separated from the widow. He got into that whichcontained Kate Vavasor, and was shoved off from the beach while hesaw Captain Bellfield arranging Mrs. Greenow's drapery. He haddeclared to himself that it should be otherwise; and that as he hadto pay the piper, the piper should play as he liked it. But Mrs.Greenow with a word or two had settled it all, and Mr. Cheesacre hadfound himself to be powerless. "How absurd Bellfield looks in thatjacket, doesn't he?" he said to Kate, as he took his seat in the boat.

  "Do you think so? I thought it was so very pretty and becoming forthe occasion."

  Mr. Cheesacre hated Captain Bellfield, and regretted more than everthat he had not done something for his own personal adornment. Hecould not endure to think that his friend, who paid for nothing,should carry away the honours of the morning and defraud him of thedelights which should justly belong to him, "It may be becoming,"said Cheesacre; "but don't you think it's awfully extravagant?"

  "As to that I can't tell. You see I don't at all know what is theprice of a jacket covered all over with little brass buttons."

  "And the waistcoat, Miss Vavasor!" said Cheesacre, almost solemnly.

  "The waistcoat I should think must have been expensive."

  "Oh, dreadful! and he's got nothing, Miss Vavasor; literally nothing.Do you know,"--and he reduced his voice to a whisper as he made thiscommunication,--"I lent him twenty pounds the day before yesterday;I did indeed. You won't mention it again, of course. I tell you,because, as you are seeing a good deal of him just now, I think itright that you should know on what sort of a footing he stands."It's all fair, they say, in love and war, and this small breach ofconfidence was, we must presume, a love stratagem on the part of Mr.Cheesacre. He was at this time smitten with the charms both of thewidow and of the niece, and he constantly found that the captain wasinterfering with him on whichever side he turned himself. On thepresent occasion he had desired to take the widow for his share, andwas, upon the whole, inclined to think that the widow was the moreworthy of his attentions. He had made certain littl
e inquiries withinthe last day or two, the answers to which had been satisfactory.These he had by no means communicated to his friend, to whom, indeed,he had expressed an opinion that Mrs. Greenow was after all only aflash in the pan. "She does very well pour passer le temps," thecaptain had answered. Mr. Cheesacre had not quite understood the exactgist of the captain's meaning, but had felt certain that his friendwas playing him false.

  "I don't want it to be mentioned again, Miss Vavasor," he continued.

  "Such things should not be mentioned at all," Kate replied,having been angered at the insinuation that the nature of CaptainBellfield's footing could be a matter of any moment to her.

  "No, they shouldn't; and therefore I know that I'm quite safe withyou, Miss Vavasor. He's a very pleasant fellow, very; and has seenthe world,--uncommon but he's better for eating and drinking withthan he is for buying and selling with, as we say in Norfolk. Do youlike Norfolk, Miss Vavasor?"

  "I never was in it before, and now I've only seen Yarmouth."

  "A nice place, Yarmouth, very; but you should come up and see ourlands. I suppose you don't know that we feed one-third of Englandduring the winter months."

  "Dear me!"

  "We do, though; nobody knows what a county Norfolk is. Taking italtogether, including the game you know, and Lord Nelson, and itswatering-places and the rest of it, I don't think there's a countyin England to beat it. Fancy feeding one-third of all England andWales!"

  "With bread and cheese, do you mean, and those sort of things?"

  "Beef!" said Mr. Cheesacre, and in his patriotic energy he repeatedthe word aloud. "Beef! Yes indeed; but if you were to tell them thatin London they wouldn't believe you. Ah! you should certainly comedown and see our lands. The 7.45 A.M. train would take you throughNorwich to my door, as one may say, and you would be back by the 6.22P.M." In this way he brought himself back again into good-humour,feeling, that in the absence of the widow, he could not do betterthan make progress with the niece.

  In the mean time Mrs. Greenow and the captain were getting on verycomfortably in the other boat. "Take an oar, Captain," one of themen had said to him as soon as he had placed the ladies. "Not to-day,Jack," he had answered. "I'll content myself with being bo'san thismorning." "The best thing as the bo'san does is to pipe all hands togrog," said the man. "I won't be behind in that either," said thecaptain; and so they all went on swimmingly.

  "What a fine generous fellow your friend, Mr. Cheesacre, is!" said thewidow.

  "Yes, he is; he's a capital fellow in his way. Some of these Norfolkfarmers are no end of good fellows."

  "And I suppose he's something more than a common farmer. He's visitedby the people about where he lives, isn't he?"

  "Oh, yes, in a sort of a way. The county people, you know, keepthemselves very much to themselves."

  "That's of course. But his house;--he has a good sort of place,hasn't he?"

  "Yes, yes;--a very good house;--a little too near to the horse-pondfor my taste. But when a man gets his money out of the till, hemustn't be ashamed of the counter;--must he, Mrs. Greenow?"

  "But he could live like a gentleman if he let his own land, couldn'the?"

  "That depends upon how a gentleman wishes to live." Here the privacyof their conversation was interrupted by an exclamation from a younglady to the effect that Charlie Fairstairs was becoming sick. ThisCharlie stoutly denied, and proved the truth of her assertion by herbehaviour. Soon after this they completed their marine adventures,and prepared to land close to the spot at which the banquet wasprepared.