CHAPTER III
Nathan Baskerville, like his brother Humphrey, was a widower. Very early in life he had married a young woman of good means and social position superior to his own. His handsome face and manifold charms of disposition won Minnie Stanlake, and she brought to him a small fortune in her own right, together with the detestation of her whole family. Husband and wife had lived happily, save for the woman's fierce and undying jealousy which extended beyond her early grave.
She died childless at eight-and-twenty, and left five thousand pounds to her husband on the understanding that he did not marry again. He obeyed this condition, though it was vain in law, and presently returned to his own people. His married life was spent at Taunton, as a general dealer, but upon his wife's death he abandoned this business and set up another like it at Bath.
At five-and-thirty years of age he came back to Devonshire and his native village. Great natural energy kept him busy. He dearly liked to conduct all manner of pettifogging business, and his good nature was such that the folk did not hesitate to consult him upon their affairs. His legal attainments were considered profound, while his shrewd handling of figures, and his personal prosperity, combined to place him on a pinnacle among the folk as a great financier and most capable man of business. He did not lend money at interest, but was known more than once to have helped a lame dog over a stile. Many kind things he did, and no man spoke a bad word of him.
People brought him their savings and begged him to invest them according to his judgment. They usually asked for no details, but received their interest regularly, and trusted Nathan Baskerville like the Bank of England. He was in truth a large-hearted and kindly spirit, who found his pleasure in the affection and also in the applause of the people. He liked to figure among them as the first. He loved work for itself and enjoyed the universal praise of his attainments.
Mr. Gollop might delude himself into believing that he was the leading citizen of Shaugh; but the master of 'The White Thorn' knew better. Without undue vanity he was not able to hide the fact that he stood above others in the esteem of the countryside. He was not so rich as people thought, and he had not laid foundations of such a fortune as they supposed during the years at Bath; but he fostered the impression and the fame it gave him. It suited better his native idiosyncrasy to tower among smaller men, than to be small amidst his betters. He liked the round-eyed reverence of ploughboys and the curtsey of the school children.
The late vicar, a Tory of the early Victorian age, had contrived to let Mr. Baskerville perceive the gulf that existed between them; and that the more definitely because Nathan was a Nonconformist. The publican professed strong Conservative principles, however, and the attitude of the last incumbent of Shaugh had caused him some secret annoyance; but he too hoped that with the advent of a younger man and modern principles this slight disability might vanish. For the rest he rode to hounds, and his attitude in the hunting field was admitted to be exceedingly correct and tactful.
He had no known confidant and he seldom spoke about himself. That he had never married astonished many people exceedingly; but it was significant of the genuine affection and esteem entertained for him that none, even when they came to learn of his dead wife's bequest and its condition, ever imputed sordid motives to his celibacy. Five thousand pounds was guessed to be but a small part of Mr. Baskerville's fortune, and, when the matter chanced upon local tongues, men and women alike were quite content to believe that not affection for money, but love for his dead partner, had proved strong enough to maintain Nathan in widowhood. He liked the company of women, and was never so pleased as when doing them a service. For their part they admired him also and wished him well.
Mr. Baskerville not only owned 'The White Thorn' and its adjacencies, but had other house property at Shaugh and in the neighbouring parish of Bickleigh. His principal possession was the large farm of Undershaugh; and thither now he proceeded with his nephew, Ned Baskerville, on one side of him and young Heathman Lintern on the other.
According to his wont Nathan chattered volubly and suited the conversation to his listeners.
"You young chaps must both join the football club, if there is one. I'm glad to think new parson's that sort, for 'tis just the kind of thing we're wanting here. You fellows, and a lot like you, spend too much time and money at my bar to please me. You may laugh, Ned, but 'tis so. And another thing I'd have you to know: so like as not we shall have a rifle corps also. I've often turned my mind on it. We must let this man see we're not all willingly behind the times, but only waiting for a bit of encouragement to go ahead with the best."
Ned pictured his own fine figure in a uniform, and applauded the rifle corps; and Heathman did the like.
"Ned here would fancy himself a lot in that black and silver toggery the yeomanry wear, wouldn't you, Ned?"
"'Tis a very good idea, and would help to make you and a few other round-backed chaps as straight in the shoulders as me," declared Ned complacently.
"Well, you may be straight," answered the other with a laugh. "Certainly you've never been known yet to bend your shoulders to work. A day's trout-fishing be the hardest job that ever you've taken on—unless courting the maidens be a hard job."
Ned laughed and so did his uncle.
"You're right there, Heathman," declared Mr. Baskerville. "A lazy scamp you are, Ned, though your father won't see it; but nobody knows it better than the girls. They like you very well for a fine day and a picnic by the river; but I can tell you this: they're getting to see through you only too well. They don't want fair-weather husbands; but stout, hard fellows, like Heathman here, as have got brains and use 'em, and arms and legs and use 'em."
"No more use—you, than a pink and white china joney stuck on a mantelshelf," said Heathman. Whereupon Ned dashed at him and, half in jest, half in earnest, they wrestled by the roadside. Mr. Baskerville looked on with great enjoyment, and helped presently to dust Heathman after he had been cross-buttocked.
"That'll show 'e if I'm a pink and white puppet for a mantelpiece," declared Ned.
The other laughed and licked a scratch on his hand.
"Well done you!" he said. "Never thought you was so spry. But let's have a whole day's ploughing over a bit of the five-acre field to Undershaugh, and see what sort of a man you are in the evening."
"Not me," answered the other. "Got no use for the plough-tail myself. Rupert will take you on at that."
"To see you wrestle puts me in mind of your father," said Nathan. "This generation can't call home his greatness, and beside him you're a shrimp to a lobster, Ned; but 'twas a grand sight to see him handle a man in his prime. I mind actually getting him up to London once, because I named his name there among some sporting fellows and 'twas slighted. They thought, being my brother, that I held him too high, though he was champion of Devon at the time. But my way is never to say nought with my tongue that I won't back with my pocket, and I made a match for thirty pounds a side for your father. A Middlesex man called Thorpe, from down Bermondsey way, was chosen, and your father came up on a Friday and put that chap on his back twice in five minutes, and then went home again fifteen pound to the good. A very clever man too, was Thorpe, but he never wanted to have no more to do with your father. Vivian weighed over fourteen stone in them days, and not a pound of fat in the lot, I believe. He could have throwed down a tor, I reckon, if he could have got a hold on it. But you fellows be after your mother's build. The best of you—him that's at sea—won't never draw the beam to twelve stone."
A tramp stopped Mr. Baskerville, touched his hat and spoke.
"You gave me a bit of work harvesting two year ago, master, and you didn't pull much of a long face when I told you I wasn't fond of work as a rule. I'm more broke than usual just for the minute, and rather short o' boot-leather. Can 'e give me a job?"
Nathan was famous at making work for everybody, and loafers rarely appealed to him in vain. How such an exceedingly busy man could find it in his heart to sympathise with drones, none knew. It was another of the anomalies of Mr. Baskerville's character. But he often proved good for a square meal, a day's labour and a night's rest, as many houseless folk well knew.
"You're the joker who calls himself the 'Duke of Drake's Island,' aren't you?"
"The Duke of Drake's Island" grinned and nodded. He was a worthless soul, very well known to the Devon constabulary.
"Get up to the village and call at 'The White Thorn' in an hour from now, and ask for me."
"Thank you kindly, Mr. Baskerville."
"We'll see about that later. I can find a job for you to-night; but it ain't picking primroses."
Priscilla Lintern met her landlord at the gate of Undershaugh. They were on terms of intimacy, and nodded to each other in an easy and friendly manner. She had been feeding poultry from a basin, and now set it down, wiped her fingers on her apron, and shook hands with Ned Baskerville.
"How be you, then? 'Tis a longful time since you called on us, Master Ned."
"I'm clever, thank you; and I see you are, Mrs. Lintern. And I hope Cora and Phyllis be all right too. Heathman here be growing as strong as a lion—ban't you, Heathman?"
Mrs. Lintern was a brown, good-looking woman of rather more than fifty. For twenty years she had farmed Undershaugh, and her power of reserve surprised a garrulous village. It was taken by the sensible for wisdom and by the foolish for pride. She worked hard, paid her rent at the hour it was due, as Nathan often mentioned to her credit, and kept her own counsel. Very little was known about her, save that she had come to Shaugh as a widow with three young children, that she was kind-hearted and might have married Mr. Gollop a year after her arrival, but had declined the honour.
Her daughters were at dinner when the men entered, and both rose and saluted Ned with some self-consciousness. Phyllis, the younger, was like her mother: brown, neat, silent and reserved; the elder was cast in a larger mould and might have been called frankly beautiful.
Cora was dark, with black eyes and a fair skin whose purity she took pains to preserve. She was tall, straight and full in the bosom. Her mouth alone betrayed her, for the lips set close and they were rather thin; but people forgot them when she laughed and showed her pretty teeth. Her laugh again belied her lips, for it was gentle and pleasant. She had few delusions for a maiden, and she worked hard. To Cora belonged a gift of common-sense. The girl lacked sentiment, but she was shrewd and capable. She kept her mother's books and displayed a talent for figures. It was said that she had the brains of the family. Only Mr. Baskerville himself doubted it, and maintained that Cora's mother was the abler woman. Phyllis was lost at all times in admiration of her more brilliant sister, but Heathman did not like Cora and often quarrelled with her.
Ned gave his message and asked for a drink of cider. Thereupon Phyllis rose from her dinner and went to fetch it. But young Baskerville's eyes were on Cora while he drank. He had the manner of a man very well accustomed to female society, and long experience had taught him that nine girls out of ten found him exceedingly attractive. His easy insolence won them against their will. Such girls as demanded worship and respect found Ned not so agreeable; but those who preferred the male creature to dominate were fascinated by his sublimity and affectation of knowledge and worldly wisdom. He pretended to know everything—a convincing attitude only among those who know nothing.
The talk was of a revel presently to take place at Tavistock. "And what's your gown going to be, Phyllis?" asked Ned.
The gown of Phyllis did not interest him in the least, but this question was put as a preliminary to another, and when the younger sister told him that she meant to wear plum-colour, he turned to Cora.
"Cora's got a lovely frock—blue muslin wi' little pink roses, and a straw hat wi' big pink roses," said Phyllis.
Ned nodded.
"I'd go a long way to see her in such a beautiful dress," he said; "and, mind, I'm to have a dance or two with you both. There's to be dancing in the evening—not rough and tumble on the grass, but boards are to be laid down and everything done proper."
They chattered about the promised festivity, while Nathan and Mrs. Lintern, having discussed certain farm matters, spoke of another and a nearer celebration.
"You see, my brother Vivian and I are of the good old-fashioned sort, and we're bent on the whole family meeting at a square feed, with good wishes all round, on his seventieth birthday. To think of him turned seventy! I can't believe it. Yet Time won't stand still—not even with the busiest. A family affair 'tis to be, and none asked outside ourselves."
"Does Mr. Humphrey go? He's not much of a hand at a revel."
"He is not; and I thought that he would have refused the invitation. But he's accepted. We shall try our hardest to cheer him up and get a drop of generous liquor into him. I only hope he won't be a damper and spoil the fun."
"A pity he's going."
"We shall know that better afterwards. 'Twill be a pity if he mars all; but 'twill be a good thing if we overmaster him amongst us, and get him to take a hopefuller view of life and a kinder view of his fellow-creatures."
Ned chimed in.
"You'll never do that, Uncle Nat. He's too old to change now. And Cousin Mark be going just the same way. He's getting such a silent, hang-dog chap, and no wonder, having to live with such a father. I'd run away if I was him."
Nathan laughed.
"I believe you'd almost rather work than keep along with your Uncle Humphrey," he said.
"'Tis pretty well known I can work when I choose," declared Ned.
"Yes," said Heathman, with his mouth full; "and 'tis also pretty well known you never do choose."
The elder Baskerville clapped his hands.
"One to you, Heathman!" he said. "Ned can't deny the truth of that."
But Ned showed no concern.
"I shall make up for lost time very easily when I do start," he said. "I've got ideas, I believe, and they go beyond ploughing. I'm like Cora here—all brains. You may laugh, Uncle Nat, but you're not the only Baskerville with a head on your shoulders. I'll astonish you yet."
"You will—you will—the day you begin to work, Ned; and the sooner the better. I shall be very glad when it happens."
The women laughed, and Cora much admired Ned's lofty attitude. She too had ambitions, and felt little sympathy with those who were content to labour on the soil. She strove often to fire her brother and enlarge his ambitions; but he had the farmer's instinct, enjoyed physical work, and laughed at her airs and graces.
"Give me Rupert," said Heathman now. "He's like me—not much good at talking and ain't got no use for the girls, but a towser to work."
"The man who ain't got no use for the girls is not a man," declared Ned very positively. "They're the salt of the earth—ban't they, Mrs. Lintern?"
She smiled and looked at him curiously, then at his uncle; but she did not answer.
"Anyway," continued Ned, "you're out when you say Rupert's like you; for hard worker that he is, he's found time for a bit of love-making."
Cora and Phyllis manifested instant excitement and interest at this news.
"Who is she? You must tell us," said the elder.
"Why, I will; but say nought, for nothing be known about it outside the families, and Rupert haven't said a word himself to me. I reckon he don't guess that I know. But such things can't be hid from my eyes—too sharp for that, I believe. 'Tis Milly Luscombe, if you must know. A very nice little thing too in her way. Not my sort—a bit too independent. I like a girl to feel a man's the oak to her ivy, but——"
Uproarious laughter from his uncle cut Ned short.
"Mighty fine oak for a girl's ivy—you!" he said.
"You wait," repeated the younger. "Anyway, Rupert be sweet on Milly, and father knows all about it, and won't hear of it. So there's thunder in the air for the moment."
They discussed this interesting private news, but promised Ned not to retail it in any ear. Then he left them and, with Nathan, returned to the village.
Ned, undeterred by Mr. Baskerville's raillery, began loudly to praise Cora as soon as they had passed beyond earshot of the farmhouse-door.
"By Jove, she's a bowerly maiden and no mistake! Not her like this side of Plymouth, I do believe. Haven't seen her for a month of Sundays, and she's come on amazing."
"She's a very handsome girl without a doubt," admitted Nathan. "And a very clever girl too; but a word in your ear, my young shaver: you mustn't look that way once and for all."
"Why not, if I choose? I'm a free man."
"You may be—now—more shame to you. But Cora—well, your cousin Mark be first in the field there. A word to the wise is enough. You'll be doing a very improper thing if you look in that quarter, and I must firmly beg you won't, for everybody's sake."
"Mark!"
"Mark. And a very good chap he is—worth fifty of you."
"Mark!" repeated Ned, as though the notion was unthinkable. "I should have guessed that he would rather have run out of the country than lift his eyes to a girl!"