The Classic Children's Literature Collection: 39 Classic Novels

by Various Authors

  It was quite a large house compared to the one in the shabby New York street, and it was very pretty and cheerful. Mary led them upstairs to a bright chintz-hung bedroom where a fire was burning, and a large snow-white Persian cat was sleeping luxuriously on the white fur hearth-rug.

  “It was the house-kaper up at the Castle, ma’am, sint her to yez,” explained Mary. “It’s herself is a kind-hearted lady an’ has had iverything done to prepar’ fur yez. I seen her meself a few minnits, an’ she was fond av the Capt’in, ma’am, an’ graivs fur him; and she said to say the big cat slapin’ on the rug moight make the room same homeloike to yez. She knowed Capt’in Errol whin he was a bye—an’ a foine handsum’ bye she ses he was, an’ a foine young man wid a plisint word fur every one, great an’ shmall. An’ ses I to her, ses I: ‘He’s lift a bye that’s loike him, ma’am, fur a foiner little felly niver sthipped in shoe-leather."‘

  When they were ready, they went downstairs into another big bright room; its ceiling was low, and the furniture was heavy and beautifully carved, the chairs were deep and had high massive backs, and there were queer shelves and cabinets with strange, pretty ornaments on them. There was a great tiger-skin before the fire, and an arm-chair on each side of it. The stately white cat had responded to Lord Fauntleroy’s stroking and followed him downstairs, and when he threw himself down upon the rug, she curled herself up grandly beside him as if she intended to make friends. Cedric was so pleased that he put his head down by hers, and lay stroking her, not noticing what his mother and Mr. Havisham were saying.

  They were, indeed, speaking in a rather low tone. Mrs. Errol looked a little pale and agitated.

  “He need not go to-night?” she said. “He will stay with me to-night?”

  “Yes,” answered Mr. Havisham in the same low tone; “it will not be necessary for him to go to-night. I myself will go to the Castle as soon as we have dined, and inform the Earl of our arrival.”

  Mrs. Errol glanced down at Cedric. He was lying in a graceful, careless attitude upon the black-and-yellow skin; the fire shone on his handsome, flushed little face, and on the tumbled, curly hair spread out on the rug; the big cat was purring in drowsy content,—she liked the caressing touch of the kind little hand on her fur.

  Mrs. Errol smiled faintly.

  “His lordship does not know all that he is taking from me,” she said rather sadly. Then she looked at the lawyer. “Will you tell him, if you please,” she said, “that I should rather not have the money?”

  “The money!” Mr. Havisham exclaimed. “You can not mean the income he proposed to settle upon you!”

  “Yes,” she answered, quite simply; “I think I should rather not have it. I am obliged to accept the house, and I thank him for it, because it makes it possible for me to be near my child; but I have a little money of my own,—enough to live simply upon,—and I should rather not take the other. As he dislikes me so much, I should feel a little as if I were selling Cedric to him. I am giving him up only because I love him enough to forget myself for his good, and because his father would wish it to be so.”

  Mr. Havisham rubbed his chin.

  “This is very strange,” he said. “He will be very angry. He won’t understand it.”

  “I think he will understand it after he thinks it over,” she said. “I do not really need the money, and why should I accept luxuries from the man who hates me so much that he takes my little boy from me—his son’s child?”

  Mr. Havisham looked reflective for a few moments.

  “I will deliver your message,” he said afterward.

  And then the dinner was brought in and they sat down together, the big cat taking a seat on a chair near Cedric’s and purring majestically throughout the meal.

  When, later in the evening, Mr. Havisham presented himself at the Castle, he was taken at once to the Earl. He found him sitting by the fire in a luxurious easy-chair, his foot on a gout-stool. He looked at the lawyer sharply from under his shaggy eyebrows, but Mr. Havisham could see that, in spite of his pretense at calmness, he was nervous and secretly excited.

  “Well,” he said; “well, Havisham, come back, have you? What’s the news?”

  “Lord Fauntleroy and his mother are at Court Lodge,” replied Mr. Havisham. “They bore the voyage very well and are in excellent health.”

  The Earl made a half-impatient sound and moved his hand restlessly.

  “Glad to hear it,” he said brusquely. “So far, so good. Make yourself comfortable. Have a glass of wine and settle down. What else?”

  “His lordship remains with his mother to-night. To-morrow I will bring him to the Castle.”

  The Earl’s elbow was resting on the arm of his chair; he put his hand up and shielded his eyes with it.

  “Well,” he said; “go on. You know I told you not to write to me about the matter, and I know nothing whatever about it. What kind of a lad is he? I don’t care about the mother; what sort of a lad is he?”

  Mr. Havisham drank a little of the glass of port he had poured out for himself, and sat holding it in his hand.

  “It is rather difficult to judge of the character of a child of seven,” he said cautiously.

  The Earl’s prejudices were very intense. He looked up quickly and uttered a rough word.

  “A fool, is he?” he exclaimed. “Or a clumsy cub? His American blood tells, does it?”

  “I do not think it has injured him, my lord,” replied the lawyer in his dry, deliberate fashion. “I don’t know much about children, but I thought him rather a fine lad.”

  His manner of speech was always deliberate and unenthusiastic, but he made it a trifle more so than usual. He had a shrewd fancy that it would be better that the Earl should judge for himself, and be quite unprepared for his first interview with his grandson.

  “Healthy and well-grown?” asked my lord.

  “Apparently very healthy, and quite well-grown,” replied the lawyer.

  “Straight-limbed and well enough to look at?” demanded the Earl.

  A very slight smile touched Mr. Havisham’s thin lips. There rose up before his mind’s eye the picture he had left at Court Lodge,—the beautiful, graceful child’s body lying upon the tiger-skin in careless comfort—the bright, tumbled hair spread on the rug—the bright, rosy boy’s face.

  “Rather a handsome boy, I think, my lord, as boys go,” he said, “though I am scarcely a judge, perhaps. But you will find him somewhat different from most English children, I dare say.”

  “I haven’t a doubt of that,” snarled the Earl, a twinge of gout seizing him. “A lot of impudent little beggars, those American children; I’ve heard that often enough.”

  “It is not exactly impudence in his case,” said Mr. Havisham. “I can scarcely describe what the difference is. He has lived more with older people than with children, and the difference seems to be a mixture of maturity and childishness.”

  “American impudence!” protested the Earl. “I’ve heard of it before. They call it precocity and freedom. Beastly, impudent bad manners; that’s what it is!”

  Mr. Havisham drank some more port. He seldom argued with his lordly patron,—never when his lordly patron’s noble leg was inflamed by gout. At such times it was always better to leave him alone. So there was a silence of a few moments. It was Mr. Havisham who broke it.

  “I have a message to deliver from Mrs. Errol,” he remarked.

  “I don’t want any of her messages!” growled his lordship; “the less I hear of her the better.”

  “This is a rather important one,” explained the lawyer. “She prefers not to accept the income you proposed to settle on her.”

  The Earl started visibly.

  “What’s that?” he cried out. “What’s that?”

  Mr. Havisham repeated his words.

  “She says it is not necessary, and that as the relations bet
ween you are not friendly——”

  “Not friendly!” ejaculated my lord savagely; “I should say they were not friendly! I hate to think of her! A mercenary, sharp-voiced American! I don’t wish to see her.”

  “My lord,” said Mr. Havisham, “you can scarcely call her mercenary. She has asked for nothing. She does not accept the money you offer her.”

  “All done for effect!” snapped his noble lordship. “She wants to wheedle me into seeing her. She thinks I shall admire her spirit. I don’t admire it! It’s only American independence! I won’t have her living like a beggar at my park gates. As she’s the boy’s mother, she has a position to keep up, and she shall keep it up. She shall have the money, whether she likes it or not!”

  “She won’t spend it,” said Mr. Havisham.

  “I don’t care whether she spends it or not!” blustered my lord. “She shall have it sent to her. She sha’n’t tell people that she has to live like a pauper because I have done nothing for her! She wants to give the boy a bad opinion of me! I suppose she has poisoned his mind against me already!”

  “No,” said Mr. Havisham. “I have another message, which will prove to you that she has not done that.”

  “I don’t want to hear it!” panted the Earl, out of breath with anger and excitement and gout.

  But Mr. Havisham delivered it.

  “She asks you not to let Lord Fauntleroy hear anything which would lead him to understand that you separate him from her because of your prejudice against her. He is very fond of her, and she is convinced that it would cause a barrier to exist between you. She says he would not comprehend it, and it might make him fear you in some measure, or at least cause him to feel less affection for you. She has told him that he is too young to understand the reason, but shall hear it when he is older. She wishes that there should be no shadow on your first meeting.”

  The Earl sank back into his chair. His deep-set fierce old eyes gleamed under his beetling brows.

  “Come, now!” he said, still breathlessly. “Come, now! You don’t mean the mother hasn’t told him?”

  “Not one word, my lord,” replied the lawyer coolly. “That I can assure you. The child is prepared to believe you the most amiable and affectionate of grandparents. Nothing—absolutely nothing has been said to him to give him the slightest doubt of your perfection. And as I carried out your commands in every detail, while in New York, he certainly regards you as a wonder of generosity.”

  “He does, eh?” said the Earl.

  “I give you my word of honor,” said Mr. Havisham, “that Lord Fauntleroy’s impressions of you will depend entirely upon yourself. And if you will pardon the liberty I take in making the suggestion, I think you will succeed better with him if you take the precaution not to speak slightingly of his mother.”

  “Pooh, pooh!” said the Earl. “The youngster is only seven years old!”

  “He has spent those seven years at his mother’s side,” returned Mr. Havisham; “and she has all his affection.”

  V

  It was late in the afternoon when the carriage containing little Lord Fauntleroy and Mr. Havisham drove up the long avenue which led to the castle. The Earl had given orders that his grandson should arrive in time to dine with him; and for some reason best known to himself, he had also ordered that the child should be sent alone into the room in which he intended to receive him. As the carriage rolled up the avenue, Lord Fauntleroy sat leaning comfortably against the luxurious cushions, and regarded the prospect with great interest. He was, in fact, interested in everything he saw. He had been interested in the carriage, with its large, splendid horses and their glittering harness; he had been interested in the tall coachman and footman, with their resplendent livery; and he had been especially interested in the coronet on the panels, and had struck up an acquaintance with the footman for the purpose of inquiring what it meant.

  When the carriage reached the great gates of the park, he looked out of the window to get a good view of the huge stone lions ornamenting the entrance. The gates were opened by a motherly, rosy-looking woman, who came out of a pretty, ivy-covered lodge. Two children ran out of the door of the house and stood looking with round, wide-open eyes at the little boy in the carriage, who looked at them also. Their mother stood courtesying and smiling, and the children, on receiving a sign from her, made bobbing little courtesies too.

  “Does she know me?” asked Lord Fauntleroy. “I think she must think she knows me.” And he took off his black velvet cap to her and smiled.

  “How do you do?” he said brightly. “Good-afternoon!”

  The woman seemed pleased, he thought. The smile broadened on her rosy face and a kind look came into her blue eyes.

  “God bless your lordship!” she said. “God bless your pretty face! Good luck and happiness to your lordship! Welcome to you!”

  Lord Fauntleroy waved his cap and nodded to her again as the carriage rolled by her.

  “I like that woman,” he said. “She looks as if she liked boys. I should like to come here and play with her children. I wonder if she has enough to make up a company?”

  Mr. Havisham did not tell him that he would scarcely be allowed to make playmates of the gate-keeper’s children. The lawyer thought there was time enough for giving him that information.

  The carriage rolled on and on between the great, beautiful trees which grew on each side of the avenue and stretched their broad, swaying branches in an arch across it. Cedric had never seen such trees,—they were so grand and stately, and their branches grew so low down on their huge trunks. He did not then know that Dorincourt Castle was one of the most beautiful in all England; that its park was one of the broadest and finest, and its trees and avenue almost without rivals. But he did know that it was all very beautiful. He liked the big, broad-branched trees, with the late afternoon sunlight striking golden lances through them. He liked the perfect stillness which rested on everything. He felt a great, strange pleasure in the beauty of which he caught glimpses under and between the sweeping boughs—the great, beautiful spaces of the park, with still other trees standing sometimes stately and alone, and sometimes in groups. Now and then they passed places where tall ferns grew in masses, and again and again the ground was azure with the bluebells swaying in the soft breeze. Several times he started up with a laugh of delight as a rabbit leaped up from under the greenery and scudded away with a twinkle of short white tail behind it. Once a covey of partridges rose with a sudden whir and flew away, and then he shouted and clapped his hands.

  “It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” he said to Mr. Havisham. “I never saw such a beautiful place. It’s prettier even than Central Park.”

  He was rather puzzled by the length of time they were on their way.

  “How far is it,” he said, at length, “from the gate to the front door?”

  “It is between three and four miles,” answered the lawyer.

  “That’s a long way for a person to live from his gate,” remarked his lordship.

  Every few minutes he saw something new to wonder at and admire. When he caught sight of the deer, some couched in the grass, some standing with their pretty antlered heads turned with a half-startled air toward the avenue as the carriage wheels disturbed them, he was enchanted.

  “Has there been a circus?” he cried; “or do they live here always? Whose are they?”

  “They live here,” Mr. Havisham told him. “They belong to the Earl, your grandfather.”

  It was not long after this that they saw the castle. It rose up before them stately and beautiful and gray, the last rays of the sun casting dazzling lights on its many windows. It had turrets and battlements and towers; a great deal of ivy grew upon its walls; all the broad, open space about it was laid out in terraces and lawns and beds of brilliant flowers.

  “It’s the most beautiful place I ever saw!” said Cedric, his round face fl
ushing with pleasure. “It reminds any one of a king’s palace. I saw a picture of one once in a fairy-book.”

  He saw the great entrance-door thrown open and many servants standing in two lines looking at him. He wondered why they were standing there, and admired their liveries very much. He did not know that they were there to do honor to the little boy to whom all this splendor would one day belong,—the beautiful castle like the fairy king’s palace, the magnificent park, the grand old trees, the dells full of ferns and bluebells where the hares and rabbits played, the dappled, large-eyed deer couching in the deep grass. It was only a couple of weeks since he had sat with Mr. Hobbs among the potatoes and canned peaches, with his legs dangling from the high stool; it would not have been possible for him to realize that he had very much to do with all this grandeur. At the head of the line of servants there stood an elderly woman in a rich, plain black silk gown; she had gray hair and wore a cap. As he entered the hall she stood nearer than the rest, and the child thought from the look in her eyes that she was going to speak to him. Mr. Havisham, who held his hand, paused a moment.

  “This is Lord Fauntleroy, Mrs. Mellon,” he said. “Lord Fauntleroy, this is Mrs. Mellon, who is the housekeeper.”

  Cedric gave her his hand, his eyes lighting up.

  “Was it you who sent the cat?” he said. “I’m much obliged to you, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Mellon’s handsome old face looked as pleased as the face of the lodge-keeper’s wife had done.

  “I should know his lordship anywhere,” she said to Mr. Havisham. “He has the Captain’s face and way. It’s a great day, this, sir.”

  Cedric wondered why it was a great day. He looked at Mrs. Mellon curiously. It seemed to him for a moment as if there were tears in her eyes, and yet it was evident she was not unhappy. She smiled down on him.

  “The cat left two beautiful kittens here,” she said; “they shall be sent up to your lordship’s nursery.”