by George Eliot
CHAPTER XII.
"Oh, sir, 'twas that mixture of spite and over-fed merriment which passes for humor with the vulgar. In their fun, they have much resemblance to a turkey-cock. It has a cruel beak, and a silly iteration of ugly sounds; it spreads its tail in self-glorification, but shows you the wrong side of the ornament--liking admiration, but knowing not what is admirable."
This Sunday evening, which promised to be so memorable in the experienceof the Sproxton miners, had its drama also for those unsatisfactoryobjects to Mr. Johnson's moral sense, the Debarrys. Certain incidentsoccurring at Treby Manor caused an excitement there which spread fromthe dining-room to the stables; but no one underwent such agitatingtransitions of feeling as Mr. Scales. At six o'clock that superiorbutler was chuckling in triumph at having played a fine and originalpractical joke on his rival, Mr. Christian. Some two hours after thattime he was frightened, sorry, and even meek; he was on the brink of ahumiliating confession his cheeks were almost livid; his hair wasflattened for want of due attention from his fingers; and the fine rollof his whiskers, which was too firm to give way, seemed only a sadreminiscence of past splendor and felicity. His sorrow came about inthis wise.
After service on that Sunday morning, Mr. Philip Debarry had left therest of the family to go home in the carriage, and had remained at therectory to lunch with his uncle Augustus, that he might consult himtouching some letters of importance. He had returned the letters to hispocket-book but had not returned the book to his pocket, and he finallywalked away leaving the enclosure of private papers and bank-notes onhis uncle's escritoire. After his arrival at home he was reminded of hisomission, and immediately dispatched Christian with a note begging hisuncle to seal up the pocket-book and send it by the bearer. Thiscommission, which was given between three and four o'clock, happened tobe very unwelcome to the courier. The fact was that Mr. Christian, whohad been remarkable through life for that power of adapting himself tocircumstances which enables a man to fall safely on all-fours in themost hurried expulsions and escapes, was not exempt from bodilysuffering--a circumstance to which there is no known way of adaptingone's self so as to be perfectly comfortable under it, or to push it offon to other people's shoulders. He did what he could: he took doses ofopium when he had an access of nervous pains, and he consoled himself asto future possibilities by thinking that if the pains ever becameintolerably frequent, a considerable increase in the dose might put anend to them altogether. He was neither Cato nor Hamlet, and though hehad learned their soliloquies at his first boarding-school, he wouldprobably have increased his dose without reciting those master-pieces.Next to the pain itself he disliked that any one should know of it:defective health diminished a man's market value; he did not like to bethe object of the sort of pity he himself gave to a poor devil who wasforced to make a wry face or "give in" altogether.
He had felt it expedient to take a slight dose this afternoon, and stillhe was not altogether relieved at the time he set off for the rectory.On returning with the valuable case safely deposited in his hindpocket, he felt increasing bodily uneasiness, and took another dose.Thinking it likely that he looked rather pitiable, he chose not toproceed to the house by the carriage-road. The servants often walked inthe park on a Sunday, and he wished to avoid any meeting. He would makea circuit, get into the house privately, and after delivering his packetto Mr. Debarry, shut himself up till the ringing of the half-hour bell.But when he reached an elbowed seat under some sycamores, he felt so illat ease that he yielded to the temptation of throwing himself on it torest a little. He looked at his watch: it was but five; he had done hiserrand quickly hitherto, and Mr. Debarry had not urged haste. But inless than ten minutes he was in a sound sleep. Certain conditions of hissystem had determined a stronger effect than usual from the opium.
As he had expected, there were servants strolling in the park, but theydid not all choose the most frequented part. Mr. Scales, in pursuit of alight flirtation with the younger lady's maid, had preferred a moresequestered walk in the company of that agreeable nymph. And it happenedto be this pair, of all others, who alighted on the sleepingChristian--a sight which at the very first moment caused Mr. Scales avague pleasure as at an incident that must lead to something clever onhis part. To play a trick, and make some one or other look foolish, washeld the most pointed form of wit throughout the back regions of theManor, and served as a constant substitute for theatrical entertainment:what the farce wanted in costume or "make up" it gained in the realityof the mortification which excited the general laughter. And lo! herewas the offensive, the exasperatingly cool and superior Christian,caught comparatively helpless, with his head hanging on his shoulder,and one coat-tail hanging out heavily below the elbow of the rusticseat. It was this coat-tail which served as a suggestion to Mr. Scales'sgenius. Putting his finger up in warning to Mrs. Cherry, and saying,"Hush--be quiet--I see a fine bit of fun"--he took a knife from hispocket, stepped behind the unconscious Christian, and quickly cut offthe pendent coat-tail. Scales knew nothing of the errand to the rectory;and as he noticed that there was something in the pocket, thought it wasprobably a large cigar-case. So much the better--he had no time topause. He threw the coat-tail as far as he could, and noticed that itfell among the elms under which they had been walking. Then, beckoningto Mrs Cherry, he hurried away with her toward the more open part ofthe park, not daring to explode in laughter until it was safe from thechance of waking the sleeper. And then the vision of the graceful,well-appointed Mr. Christian, who sneered at Scales about his "get up,"having to walk back to the house with only one tail to his coat, was asource of so much enjoyment to the butler, that the fair Cherry began tobe quite jealous of the joke. Still she admitted that it really wasfunny, tittered intermittently, and pledged herself to secrecy. Mr.Scales explained to her that Christian would try to creep in unobserved,but that this must be made impossible; and he requested her to imaginethe figure this interloping fellow would cut when everybody was askingwhat had happened. "Hallo, Christian! where's your coat tail?" wouldbecome a proverb at the Manor, where jokes kept remarkably well withoutthe aid of salt; and Mr. Christian's comb would be cut so effectuallythat it would take a long time to grow again. Exit Scales, laughing, andpresenting a fine example of dramatic irony to any one in the secret ofFate.
When Christian awoke, he was shocked to find himself in the twilight. Hestarted up, shook himself, missed something, and soon became aware whatit was he missed. He did not doubt that he had been robbed, and he atonce foresaw that the consequences would be highly unpleasant. In no waycould the cause of the accident be so represented to Mr. Philip Debarryas to prevent him from viewing his hitherto unimpeachable factotum in anew and unfavorable light. And though Mr. Christian did not regard hispresent position as brilliant, he did not see his way to anythingbetter. A man nearly fifty who is not always quite well is seldomardently hopeful: he is aware that this is a world in which merit isoften overlooked. With the idea of robbery in full possession of hismind, to peer about and search in the dimness, even if it had occurredto him, would have seemed a preposterous waste of time and energy. Heknew it was likely that Mr. Debarry's pocket-book had important andvaluable contents, and that he should deepen his offence by deferringhis announcement of the unfortunate fact. He hastened back to the house,relieved by the obscurity from that mortification of his vanity on whichthe butler had counted. Indeed, to Scales himself the affair had alreadybegun to appear less thoroughly jocose than he had anticipated. For heobserved that Christian's non-appearance before dinner had caused Mr.Debarry some consternation and he had gathered that the courier hadbeen sent on a commission to the rectory. "My uncle must have detainedhim for some reason or other," he heard Mr. Philip say; "but it is odd.If he were less trusty about commissions, or had ever seemed to drinktoo much, I should be uneasy." Altogether the affair was not taking theturn Mr. Scales had intended. At last, when dinner had been removed, andthe butler's chief duties were at an end, it was understood thatChristian had entered with
out his coat tail, looking serious and evenagitated; that he had asked leave at once to speak to Mr. Debarry, andthat he was even then in parley with the gentleman in the dining-room.Scales was in alarm; it must have been some property of Mr. Debarry'sthat had weighted the pocket. He took a lantern, got a groom toaccompany him with another lantern, and with the utmost practical speedreached the fatal spot in the park. He searched under the elms--he wascertain that the pocket had fallen there--and he found the pocket; buthe found it empty, and, in spite of further search, did not find thecontents, though he had first consoled himself with thinking that theyhad fallen out, and would be lying not far off. He returned with thelanterns and the coat tail and a most uncomfortable consciousness inthat great seat of a butler's emotion, the stomach. He had no soonerre-entered than he was met by Mrs. Cherry, pale and anxious, who drewhim aside to say that if he didn't tell everything she would; that theconstables were to be sent for; that there had been no end of bank-notesand letters and things in Mr. Debarry's pocket-book, which Christian wascarrying in that very pocket Scales had cut off; that the rector wassent for, the constable was coming, and they should all be hanged. Mr.Scales's own intellect was anything but clear as to the possible issues.Crest-fallen, and with the coat-tail in his hands as an attestation thathe was innocent of anything more than a joke, he went and made hisconfession. His story relieved Christian a little, but did not relieveMr. Debarry, who was more annoyed at the loss of the letters, and thechance of their getting into hands that might make use of them, than atthe loss of the bank-notes. Nothing could be done for the present, butthat the rector, who was a magistrate, should instruct the constables,and that the spot in the park indicated by Scales should again becarefully searched. This was done, but in vain; and many of the familyat the Manor had disturbed sleep that night.