CHAPTER XVII.—CONTAINS MUCH FOLLY AND A LITTLE COMMON SENSE.
“The truth of the matter is this, Mr. Arundel,” began General Grant. “From a mistaken policy your future pupil has been indulged in every caprice of his weak intellect, till the slightest opposition to his wishes irritates him beyond all control that has yet been exercised over him; but as his only attendants are an old female domestic who was his nurse, and her son, a lad younger than Sir Walter himself, whom he has been foolishly permitted to look upon in the light of a companion, this is not so much to be wondered at.”
“It will be a difficult task to eradicate faults of temper which have been allowed to become habitual, especially where the reasoning faculties are defective,” observed Lewis thoughtfully.
“You may well say that, sir,” chimed in Miss Livingstone. “His reasoning faculties (as you please to term them) are so defective, that in my humble opinion the boy is neither more nor less than a fool; and you may as well try to drive a pig straight as to talk sense to a fool. But how a man so particular as General Grant can have brought such an inmate into his family, and then expect that things are to go on with the order and precision that——”
“Madam!” began the General in a voice of thunder, his stock of patience utterly exhausted by this indirect mode of attack. But Annie, with a degree of tact and moral courage for which Lewis had by no means been disposed to give her credit, laid her hand imploringly on her father’s arm, and whispered a few magical words which served to avert the storm that had appeared inevitable. An awkward pause ensued, which was broken by the General, who, rising majestically from his chair, informed Lewis that he should request his attendance in half-an-hour; then casting a withering glance at Miss Livingstone, which caused that respectable porcupine of private life to bristle up if possible more fiercely than before, he quitted the room. No sooner had her nephew-in-law’s retreating footsteps ceased to echo through the long corridor than the good lady, freed from the restraint of his presence, did then and there openly, avowedly, and with much vehemence, utter a declaration of war to the knife with that gallant officer, issued a protest against the introduction of “rampant idiots” into that heretofore peaceful family, and finally assert her own liberty of action by promulgating her determination to depart forthwith, leaving her companions to contemplate the agreeable contingencies of “being frightened out of their wits every day, and murdered in their beds all night.”
Having in some degree relieved her mind by this explosion, she applied the superfluous steam still remaining to the purpose of locomotion, her crisp schako rending the air, and her high-heeled shoes knocking sharp little double knocks, as of an angry postman, against the polished oak floor as she swept along.
And these “pleasant passages” were the first votive offering which Lewis saw presented to the Lares and Penates of Broadhurst.
General Grant sat bolt upright in his easy-chair, as if he were on his charger, and his face wore an expression of scrutinising authority, as of a commander about to review his troops, when Lewis, in obedience to his summons, entered the library.
“Take a chair, Mr. Arundel. I have desired the attendance of Sir Walter Desborough, and expect he will be here immediately.”
In compliance with this request, Lewis seated himself to await the arrival of his future pupil; but the minutes glided by, and still no pupil appeared. At length, just as the General’s small stock of patience became exhausted and he had begged Lewis to ring the bell, the butler returned, saying that it was impossible to induce Sir Walter to leave his room unless his female attendant might come with him. General Grant frowned portentously, glanced expressively towards Lewis, muttering, “Some of the evil effects of a grievous system of neglect,” then added, to the servant, “You may desire Mrs. Peters to accompany Sir Walter Desborough.”
“One of the first points to which you will have to direct your attention, Mr. Arundel,” continued the General as the domestic quitted the apartment, “is to induce my ward to dispense with the society of this person and her son. He may retain their services as attendants, but must be taught no longer to regard them as companions.”
As he spoke the door opened and admitted three individuals. Of these, the first who claims our notice was the unfortunate young baronet who was to be Lewis’s future charge. He appeared about fourteen, but was tall for that age; his figure was slight and not ungraceful, and his features were handsome; his forehead was high, but narrow and receding; his eyes were bright and clear, though totally devoid of expression, and there was an appearance of weakness and irresolution about the mouth, which too clearly indicated his want of intellect. Mrs. Peters was a very stout old lady, on whom the cares of life and a rare specimen of the female costume of some bygone age appeared to sit easily; her outline might have suggested to an imaginative beholder the idea of a huge pillow which had “come alive” and made itself a gown out of one of the chintz bed-curtains, forgetting the waist. Her conversation was embellished by a redundancy of mild ejaculations, amongst which a benediction on her own “heart alive,” and an apostrophe to a solitary possessive pronoun which had lost its noun, and agreed with nothing in particular, stood pre-eminent. Her stock of ideas, which was by no means inconveniently large, had been presented to her in her youth, and required altering to suit the present fashion. Still she was a good old woman in her way; her “heart alive” was a very kind one; and she doated on poor Walter, spoiling and indulging him till she had made even a greater fool of him than nature had intended. The trio was completed by her hopeful son Robert, or, as he was more familiarly termed, Bob Peters, who, one year younger than Sir Walter, was as clever and mischievous an imp as ever indued a page’s livery and bore a splendid crop of buttons to fascinate society. Pressing close to his nurse’s side and dragging the pretty page after him by the wrist, Walter entered the alarming presence of his guardian and his tutor, hanging back like a startled colt the moment he perceived a stranger.
“Walter, come here; I want to introduce you to this gentleman,” exclaimed General Grant in the blandest tone he could command; but in vain—Walter only hung his head and shrank closer to his protectress.
“Oh, my! Walter dearie, go to the General. Bless my heart alive, you ain’t so silly as to be afraid of him,” exclaimed Mrs. Peters, emphasising the him. as though it referred to a pet lamb or a tame rabbit.
“Go in and win, Master Walter; the gentleman won’t bite yer,” suggested Bob in an audible whisper.
But their remonstrances produced no effect upon Walter, and served only to increase General Grant’s irritation.
“He must be taught obedience, sir,” he remarked quickly, appealing to Lewis. “Nothing can be done until he becomes obedient;” then turning to the old nurse, he continued, “Mrs. Peters, Sir Walter will not require your attendance at present; you may leave the room, and take your son with you.”
“I’m afeard, sir, you won’t be able to do nothing with Master Walter without one of us stops with him. You see, he’s kind of used to us,” urged Mrs. Peters.
“I shall feel obliged by your leaving the room, Mrs. Peters. When I require your advice! will inform you of the fact,” returned the General, walking with stately steps towards the door, which he held partially open to permit the egress of the servants, while he prevented Walter from following them.
As he saw his friends depart the boy raised his eyes, which gleamed with mingled fear and anger, to General Grant’s face, but cold inflexibility was written there so unmistakably that even the darkened perceptions of the idiot could not fail to perceive it; and apparently feeling instinctively that resistance would be unavailing, his countenance assumed a sulky, dogged expression, and he suffered himself to be led to a seat without opposition. But, despite this success, the General seemed as far from gaining his point as ever; neither kindness nor coercion could induce Walter to pay the slightest attention to the remarks addressed to him, or to utter a single word. Any one, to have seen him at that moment, would have imagined him to be hopelessly imbecile. That such was not the case, however, Lewis, who without interfering openly had been closely observing him from the moment of his entrance, felt convinced. He had particularly watched the play of his features, and had remarked when he first came in that they were characterised by an expression of fear and shyness rather than of stupidity, and that it was not until his guardian had banished those whom he knew well, and in whom he had confidence, that they assumed the look of stolid sulkiness which they now wore. After making several unsuccessful attempts to elicit from his ward some proof of intelligence, General Grant at length quitted the room in search of his daughter, actuated thereunto by a vague consciousness that his own manner might possibly be deficient in conciliatory power, and that Annie, from the fact of her belonging to the softer sex, possessed a decided advantage over him in this particular. Availing himself of this opportunity, Lewis caught up a young kitten which was playing about the room, towards which he had observed Walter cast several furtive glances; and caressing the little animal as he held it in his arms, he approached his pupil, saying quietly—
“I’m sure you like the kitten, Walter, she is so playful and pretty?”
The boy made no answer, but the sullen look in his face gradually gave place to a milder expression, and he glanced from Lewis to the kitten with an appearance of intelligence, for which any one who had seen him a minute before would not have given him credit. Lewis saw that he had touched the right string, and continued in the same kind and gentle manner—
“We must make a great pet of the kitten. She will play with us and amuse us nicely.”
As he said this Walter drew closer to him, and seeming, in his interest about the kitten, to forget his fear of the stranger, held out his hands for the little creature to be given to him.
“Will you be kind to her if I let you have her?” continued Lewis.
Walter nodded in token of assent, and Lewis handed him the kitten, which he immediately began to fondle and play with, laughing with childish glee at its gambols. After amusing himself in this manner for several minutes he suddenly turned to Lewis and asked in a half-whisper—
“Do you like ponies, too?”
Delighted at this proof of the success of his attempt to win his pupil’s confidence, Lewis signified his intense affection for ponies in general, and inquired whether Walter possessed one. On receiving an affirmative nod he continued—
“And are you very fond of riding it?”
This question seemed to perplex the boy, for he made no reply, and a half-puzzled, vacant expression banished the gleam of intelligence which had lighted up his features. Lewis repeated the inquiry in two or three different forms, but with no better success. A pause ensued, during which the young tutor pondered with himself the best means of calling forth and strengthening the faint germs of intellect which evidently existed in the clouded mind of the poor idiot, when Walter again looked up and exclaimed abruptly—
“Bob says I’m to ride the pony when somebody comes to take care of me.”
“And I am that somebody,” returned Lewis, smiling good-naturedly. “You shall ride the pony to-day if you like.”
This seemed to please him, for he nodded and laughed, and resumed his gambols with the kitten. Suddenly a new idea appeared to strike him, for his face became clouded, and drawing close to Lewis, he whispered, pointing to the door by which General Grant had left the apartment—
“Don’t tell him, or he won’t let me go.”
“Why should you think so, Walter? That gentleman is your guardian, and means to be very kind to you,” returned Lewis; but Walter shook his head and repeated—
“Don’t tell him; he won’t let me go.”
At this moment the General returned, accompanied by Annie, whose feelings of sympathy and pity were slightly tempered by the fears which Miss Livingstone had laboured industriously to instil into her mind. Lewis drew the General on one side and gave him an outline of all that had passed during his absence, adding, that although it was of course too soon for him to judge with any degree of accuracy to what extent they might proceed, it was evident his pupil possessed some reasoning powers which cultivation might develop. And he was going on to add that harshness appeared to him likely rather to increase than diminish the evil, when his attention was attracted by an exclamation of anger from Walter.
The moment General Grant returned his ward had relapsed into his former state of sullen apathy, and all Annie’s attempts to induce him to notice her only appeared to increase his obstinacy, till at length she began to stroke the kitten, which he still held in his arms. This, for some unexplained cause (probably because he fancied she might be about to injure his favourite, or to deprive him of it), irritated him beyond control, and forgetting his fear in his anger, he uttered the exclamation above alluded to, and struck at her fiercely with a riding-whip which he had brought in with him. Springing forward, however, before the blow could descend, Lewis caught his uplifted arm and held it in an iron grasp, while in a grave but stern voice he said—
“Walter, I am surprised at you. Attempt to strike a lady! You must never do such a thing again.”
The calm, impressive manner in which he uttered these words appeared to produce a beneficial effect in subduing the boy’s irritation; for after making one furious but unavailing attempt to free himself, he sat perfectly still and unresisting. Nothing, however, could induce him to make friends with Annie, or to allow her to touch his beloved kitten, though when Lewis caressed it, and even took it in his arms, he appeared well contented.
A fortnight’s careful study of the young baronet’s character only served to confirm the impressions Lewis had received during this first interview. That he possessed some powers of reasoning and reflection was evident; but the great difficulty lay in finding a key to the workings of his mind by aid of which these powers might be strengthened and developed. Any direct question seemed to puzzle and confuse him, and the only plan which appeared to offer any hope of success was, if possible, to discover some train of thought (if the vague and desultory fancies which flitted across his feeble brain deserved to be so called), and then to lead him gently on by suggesting new ideas, some of which he might adopt and retain. But it was an up-hill task; and often when Lewis, with a degree of calm perseverance which in one of his eager and impetuous disposition could scarcely have been looked for, had succeeded in making him acquire, as he believed, a leading idea on which he hoped to base some superstructure of elementary knowledge, a look of hopeless vacuity would show that no progress had been made, and that the labour must all be gone through again. At other times some shrewd remark or pertinent question would take Lewis as it were by surprise, and induce him to imagine that he had underrated his pupil’s mental capacity, and that the fault must lie in his own inexperience of such cases. But there was much to be unlearned as well as to be taught. As is often the case in persons of weak intellect, the mere animal tendencies were unusually strong. He was subject to violent bursts of passion, if his will were in the slightest degree thwarted, which it required all Lewis’s firmness and strength of character to contend against successfully. Occasionally fits of melancholy would seize him, during which he would sit for hours without speaking, his head resting dejectedly on his hand, and nothing appearing able to interest or amuse him. If not prevented, he would eat so voraciously as to injure his health. He was also indolent and averse to active exertion of any kind. But Lewis took much pains to teach him to ride, and the exercise thus obtained tended greatly to strengthen his constitution. His fondness for animals was one of the most amiable points in his disposition. He and Faust ere long became inseparable, and Lewis found the dog a most useful auxiliary in inculcating—by example, not precept, for Faust could not quite talk—the necessity of implicit obedience.
A month soon glided by, and at its expiration Lewis informed General Grant that if he still wished him to undertake the care of his ward he was willing to do so; an offer of which that noble commander joyfully availed himself, being in his secret soul equally surprised and pleased at the degree of success which had already attended Lewis’s efforts, and only too glad to secure the services of one who could and would save him all further difficulty in regard to the onerous and troublesome responsibility which he had taken upon himself. For the next six months of his residence at Broadhurst Lewis saw but little of the family. During the greater part of that time the General was absent on a visit to some relations in Scotland, whither his daughter accompanied him. Miss Livingstone, having supplied herself with a resident victim in the person of Miss Susan Pinner, an unhappy little fourteen-year-old cousin once removed (the further the better from such a relative, we should imagine), spent her time very much to her own satisfaction in daily offering up the helpless sacrifice thus acquired at the altar of her evil temper, and in tyrannising over the poor of the neighbourhood with most excruciating benevolence. A sick family was a rare treat to this venerable scourge. Nauseous were the medicines she forced down the throats of the destitute, aggravating the directions with which she tortured the suffering, hateful the dietary on which she nourished all sick persons and young children! Truly an irritating poor man’s plaster was that sphinx of modern society, Minerva Livingstone, and Odipus himself would never have guessed at one-half her modes of ingeniously tormenting indigent merit. Fortunately, working out the details of this ferocious philanthropy occupied so much of the good lady’s time that Lewis enjoyed a happy immunity from her attentions, and was allowed to put in practice his theories for the improvement of his pupil without let or hindrance; and it was with a degree of pleasure, which was in itself sufficient reward for his trouble, that he perceived his plans likely to succeed beyond his most sanguine expectations. Affairs were in this position when—but such an interesting disclosure requires a fresh chapter.
CHAPTER XVIII.—LEWIS RECEIVES A MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION, AND IS RUN AWAY WITH BY TWO YOUTHFUL BEAUTIES.
The arrival of the post-bag was an interesting event to Lewis, as almost the only pleasure he allowed himself was a rapid interchange of letters with his sister; and to this correspondence was he indebted for an amount of warm sympathy, judicious advice, and affectionate interest in his pursuits which tended greatly to relieve the monotony and diminish the irksomeness of his situation; but with the exception of Rose and (occasionally) Frere, his correspondents were exceedingly limited in number, and their epistles few and far between. It was then a matter of no small surprise to him to receive a businesslike-looking letter in an unknown handwriting. To break the seal (which bore the impression of the letters J. and L. united in a flourishing cipher that at first sight looked like a bad attempt to delineate a true lover’s knot) was the work of a moment. The contents were as follows:—
“Sir,—My partner and myself, having some connection with Warlington, were cognisant of the death of your late lamented father, which sad event was reported to have been caused by the sudden discovery of some important information contained in a public journal. It is in our power to impart to you the nature of that information; but as we have every reason to believe its importance has not been overrated, we are only prepared to do so on the following terms:—viz., the present receipt of ten guineas, and a bond pledging yourself to pay to us the sum of £200 should the information prove as valuable as we conceive it to be. Awaiting the favour of a speedy answer,
“We have the honour to remain, Sir,
“Yours obediently,
“Jones & Levi, Attorneys-at-Law.
“——Street, Old Bailey.”
“What a strange letter!” soliloquised Lewis, after perusing it carefully for the second time. “The writer is evidently acquainted with the circumstances of my poor father’s death, but that proves nothing; the newspaper story rests on the evidence of the library-keeper at Warlington, and he probably told it to every one who came into his shop for the next week; and this tale may have been invented to suit the circumstances, with a view to extort money. One has heard of such rogueries; still, in that case, why insist on the £200 bond? That seems as if Messrs. Jones & Levi themselves had faith in the value of their information; or it may only be done in order to give me that impression. I’ll send the letter up to Richard Frere and ask him to ferret out these gents—I dare say they are thorough gents. Walter, I will not allow you to give Faust all your gloves to play with; that is the third pair he has bitten to pieces this week. Faust! drop it, sir! Do you hear me? That’s right—good, obedient dog! Now for Master Richard.”
So saying he took a pen and wrote, in a delicately-formed yet free and bold hand, the following note:—
“Dear old Frere,—Certain individuals, signing themselves ‘Jones & Levi,’ have seen fit to favour me with the enclosed mysterious communication, which on the face of the thing looks very like an attempt to swindle. As there is, however, just a remote possibility that something may come of it (for their account of the circumstances preceding my poor father’s death tallies exactly with the recital my sister gave me on my return), you will, I am sure, add one more to your many kindnesses by investigating this matter for me. You must bear in mind that £10 notes are by no means too plentiful with me, and that, under present circumstances, my bond for £200 would scarcely be worth as many pence. My poor charge progresses slowly; he has become much more docile and tractable, and is considerably improved in manners and general amiability, but his mental capacity is lamentably deficient; his reasoning powers and usual habits of thought are about on a par with those of an average child of six or seven years old; many intelligent children of that age are greatly his superiors in intellect: still, he makes visible progress, and that is recompense sufficient for any expenditure of time and trouble. He appears much attached to me, and (perhaps for that very reason—perhaps from the necessity to love something, which exists in the nature of every man worthy of the name) I have become so deeply interested in him, that duties which six months ago I should have reckoned irksome in the extreme, I now find a real pleasure in performing. I bore you with these details because... because you are so old a friend that I have acquired a prescriptive right to bore you when I like. As Walter and Faust (who clearly knows that I am writing to you, and sends you an affectionate wag of the tail) are becoming impatient at the length of my epistle, there being a walk in prospect dependent on my arriving at a satisfactory conclusion, the sooner I do so the better.
“Yours ever, L. A.”
As Lewis folded and sealed this missive a servant entered with a note on a silver waiter, saying, as he presented it, “For you, sir. I am desired to wait while you read it.”
It was written in a stiff, formal hand, and ran as follows:—
“Miss Livingstone presents her compliments to Mr. Arundel, and requests the favour of an interview with him.”
“What is in the wind now, I wonder?” thought Lewis, but he only said, “Tell Miss Livingstone I will do myself the pleasure of waiting on her immediately,” and the servant retired.
Minerva was enthroned in state in the small drawing-room, the large one being an awful apartment, dedicated to high and solemn social convocations, and by no means lightly to be entered. Care sat upon her wrinkled brow, and looked as uncomfortable there as in such a situation might reasonably have been expected. As Lewis entered, this remarkable woman rose and performed as near an approach to a curtsey as her elephantine conformation would permit; then, graciously motioning her visitor to a seat, she growled an inquiry after the well-being of his pupil, promulgated a decidedly scandalous account of the state of the weather, with a disheartening prophecy appended relative to meteorological miseries yet to come; and having thus broken her own ice, dived into the chilly recesses of her cold water system, and fished up from its stony depths the weighty grievance that oppressed her.
It appeared that the same post which had conveyed the mysterious document from Messrs. Jones & Levi had also brought a letter from General Grant containing the intelligence that he was about to return home forthwith, that the house was to be prepared for the reception of a large Christmas party, and that he wished Miss Livingstone to pay a round of visits preparatory to the issue of innumerable notes of invitation, by which the neighbourhood was to be induced to attend sundry festive meetings at Broadhurst; and all this was to be done more thoroughly and on a larger scale than usual, for some mysterious reason in regard to which the General was equally urgent and enigmatical. But Minerva shall speak for herself.
“Having thus, Mr. Arundel, made myself acquainted with General Grant’s wishes (fourteen beds to be ready this day week, and not even the hangings put up on one of them—but men are so inconsiderate nowadays), I proceeded to give Reynolds (the housekeeper) full and clear instructions (to not one of which did she pay proper attention—but servants are so careless and self-conceited nowadays) as to all the necessary domestic arrangements. I then desired the coachman might be informed that I should require the carriage to be ready for use at two o’clock to-morrow (as you are perhaps aware, sir, that since the General’s departure for Scotland I have restricted myself to a simple pony-chaise). Judge of my amazement when I was told there were no horses fit for use! I begged to see the coachman instantly, but learned that he was confined to his bed with influenza. The second coachman is in Scotland with the General, so that in fact there was not a creature of sufficient respectability for me to converse with to whom I could give directions about the matter. Under these circumstances, which are equally unexpected and annoying, I considered myself justified in applying to you, Mr. Arundel. Would you oblige me by going through the stables and ascertaining whether anything can be devised to meet the present emergency? I am aware that the service I require of you is beyond the strict routine of your duties; but you must yourself perceive the impossibility of a lady venturing among stablemen and helpers without showing a disregard to that strict rule of propriety by which it has been the study of my life to regulate my conduct.”
Having reached this climax, Minerva glanced with an air of dignified self-approval towards Lewis and began a very unnecessary process of refrigeration with the aid of a fan apparently composed, like its mistress, of equal parts of cast-iron and buckram. Lewis immediately signified his readiness to undertake the commission, and promising to return and report progress, bowed and left the room.
On reaching the stables a groom attended his summons, and, after the fashion of his race, entered into a long explanation of the series of untoward circumstances to which the present state of equine destitution might be attributed, in the course of which harangue he performed, so to speak, a fantasia on the theme, “And then do you see, sir, coachman being hill,” to which sentence, after each variation, he constantly returned. The substance of his communication was as follows:—Shortly before the General’s departure one of the carriage horses had fallen and broken his knees, and its companion having an unamiable predilection for kicking, the pair were sold and a couple of young unbroken animals purchased, which, after a summer’s run, were destined to replace the delinquents. Shortly after this the General fell in love with and bought a pair of iron-grey four-year-olds, also untrained. All these young horses were now taken up from grass and about to be broken in, but the coachman’s illness had interrupted their education.
“Well, but are neither pair of the young stock available?” inquired Lewis.
“I’m afeared not, sir,” was the reply. “The bays ain’t never been in harness, and the iron-greys only three times.”
“Oh, the greys have been in harness three times, have they?” resumed Lewis. “Let us take them out to-day and see how they perform.”
“If you please, sir, I am only pad groom, and I can’t say as I should feel myself disactly compertent to drive them wild young devils.”
“Bring out that mail phaeton; put on the break harness, and I’ll drive them myself,” returned Lewis.
“But, if you please, sir,” began the groom in a tone of remonstrance.
“My good fellow, you waste time in talking. Of course if anything goes wrong in consequence of your obeying my directions, I alone shall be answerable; but nothing will go wrong if your harness is sound,” returned Lewis quickly.
The man, seeing the young tutor was determined, summoned one of his fellows, and in a short time the phaeton was made ready and the horses harnessed and led out. They were a splendid pair of dark iron-greys, with silver manes and tails; their heads, small and well set on, their sloping shoulders, and fine graceful legs, spoke well for their descent; but they snorted with fear and impatience as they were led up to their places, and their bright full eyes gazed wildly and restlessly around.
“Be quiet with them!” exclaimed Lewis as one of the men laid a rude grasp on the rein to back the near-side horse into his place. “You never can be too quiet and steady with a young horse. Soho, boy! what is it then? nobody is going to hurt you,” he continued, patting the startled animal, and at the same time backing him gently into the required position.
The operation of putting-to was soon completed; and Lewis saying, “You had better lead them off if there is any difficulty in getting them to start,” took the reins in his hands and sprang up lightly but quietly. Seating himself firmly, he asked, “Now, are you all ready?” and receiving an answer in the affirmative, continued, “Give them their heads;” then making a mysterious sound which may be faintly portrayed by the letters “tchick,” he endeavoured to start his horses. But this was no such easy matter. The near-side horse the moment he felt the collar ran back, pulling against his companion, who returned the compliment by rearing and striking with his fore-feet at the groom who attempted to hold him.
“Steady there!” cried Lewis. “Pat his neck; that’s right. Quiet, horse! stand, sir! One of you call those men here,” he added, pointing to a couple of labourers who were digging in a slip of ground near. “Now, my men,” he resumed as they came up, “take hold of the spokes of the hind wheels and move the carriage on when I give you the signal. Are you ready? Stand clear; all right.” As he spoke he again attempted to start the horses, and this time more successfully.
The animal which had reared at the first attempt sprang forward, and finding the weight which he had probably fancied was immovable yield to his efforts, appeared anxious to proceed, but the other still hung back, and was partly dragged forward by his yoke-fellow, partly pushed on by the men who were propelling the carriage. Lewis again tried mild measures, but without effect; and at length, considering that the soothing system had been carried far enough, he drew the point of the whip smartly across the animal’s shoulder. In reply to this the recusant flung up his heels as high as the kicking-straps would permit; but on a second and rather sharper application of the thong he plunged forward and threw himself into the collar with a bound that tried the strength of the traces; then pulling like a steam-engine, appeared resolved to revenge himself on his driver by straining every sinew of his arms to the utmost pitch of tension. But rowing, fencing, and other athletic exercises had rendered those arms as hard as iron; and though the swollen muscles rounded and stood out till his coat-sleeve was stretched almost to bursting, Lewis continued to hold the reins in a vice-like grasp, and the fiery horses, arching their proud necks and tossing the foam-flakes from their champing jaws, were compelled to proceed at a moderate pace. The grooms ran by their sides for a short distance, then, at a sign from Lewis, one of the men watched his opportunity and scrambled up while the phaeton was still going on; the other, having opened a gate leading down a road through the park, remained gazing after them with looks of the deepest interest.
“Well, sir, you’ve managed to start ’em easier than I expected,” observed the groom, as, in compliance with Lewis’s desire, he seated himself at his side. “Coachman was a good half-hour a getting ’em hout of the yard last time as they was put-to; that near-sider wouldn’t take the collar no how.”
“And yet he’ll turn out the better horse of the two if he’s judiciously managed,” returned Lewis. “He has higher courage than his companion, though they’re both splendid animals. They only require careful driving and working moderately every day to make as good a pair of carriage-horses as a man need wish to sit behind.”
“It ain’t the first time as you’ve handled the ribbons by a good many, I should say, sir,” continued Bob Richards (for that was the man’s name, dear reader, although I’ve never had an opportunity of telling you so before). “I see’d as you know’d what you was about afore ever you got on the box.”
“Before I got up!” returned Lewis. “How did you manage that, my friend?”
“Why, sir, the furst thing as you did was to cast your eye over the harness to see as all was right; then, afore ever you put your foot on the step you took the reins into your hands, so that the minute you was up you was ready for a bolt, hif so be it had pleased Providence to start the ’orses off suddenly. Now, anybody as wasn’t used to the ways of four-footed quadrupals wouldn’t never have thought of that.”
“Your powers of observation do you credit,” returned Lewis, with difficulty repressing a smile. “You are right, I have been accustomed to driving, as you imagine.” And as he spoke the remembrance of scenes and persons now far away came across him, and he thought with regret of pleasant hours passed with his young associates in Germany, when the mere fact of his being an Englishman caused him to be regarded as an oracle on all matters connected with horseflesh.
While this conversation was taking place the iron-greys had proceeded about a mile through the park, dancing, curvetting, and staring on all sides, as though they would fain shy at every object they discerned.
“They are gradually dropping into a steadier pace, you see,” observed Lewis; “they’ll be tired of jumping about, and glad to trot without breaking into a canter, when they get a little warm to their work. Quiet, boy, quiet!” he continued, as the horses suddenly pricked up their ears and stared wildly about them; “gently there, gently! What in the world are they frightened at now?”
The question did not long remain a doubtful one, for in another minute a hollow, rushing sound became audible, and a herd of deer, startled by the rattling of the carriage, broke from a thicket hard by, and bounding over the tall fern and stunted brushwood, darted across the road, their long thin legs and branching antlers, indistinctly seen in the grey light of an autumn day, giving them a strange and spectre-like appearance. But Lewis had no time to trace fanciful resemblances, for the horses demanded all his attention. As the sound of pattering feet approached they began to plunge violently; at the sight of the deer they stopped short, snorting and trembling with fright; and when the herd crossed the road before them, perfectly maddened with terror they reared till they almost stood upright; then, turning short round, they dashed off the road at right angles, nearly overturning the phaeton as they did so, and breaking into a mad gallop, despite all their driver’s efforts to restrain them, tore away with the speed of lightning. For a few seconds the sound of the wind whistling past his ears, and oppressing his breathing to a painful degree, confused Lewis and deprived him of the power of speech; but the imminence of the danger, and the necessity for calmness and decision, served to restore his self-possession, and turning towards his companion, who, pale with terror, sat convulsively grasping the rail of the seat, he inquired—
“Can you recollect whether there are any ditches across the park in this direction?”
“There ain’t no ditches, as I recollects,” was the reply, “but there’s something a precious sight worser. If these devils go straight ahead for five minutes longer at this pace, we shall be dashed over the bank of the lake into ten foot water.”
“Yes, I remember; I see where we are now. The ground rises to the left, and is clear of trees and ditches, is it not?” asked Lewis.
The groom replied in the affirmative, and Lewis continued: “Then we must endeavour to turn them; do you take the whip, stand up, and be ready to assist me at the right moment. What are you thinking of?” he continued, seeing that the man hesitated and was apparently measuring with his eye the distance from the step to the ground. “It would be madness to jump out while we are going at this rate. Be cool, and we shall do very well yet.”
“I’m agreeable to do whatever you tells me, only be quick about it, sir,” rejoined the groom. “For if it comes to jumping hout, or sitting still to be drownded, hout I goes, that’s flat, for I never could abear cold water.”
“I suppose the reins are strong, and to be depended on?” inquired Lewis.
“Nearly new, sir,” was the reply.
“Then be ready; and when I tell you, exert yourself,” continued Lewis.
While these remarks passed between the two occupants of the phaeton, the horses still continued their mad career, resisting successfully all attempts to check the frightful speed at which they were hurrying on towards certain destruction. As they dashed past a clump of shrubs, which had hitherto concealed from view the danger to which they were exposed, the full peril of their situation became evident to the eyes of Lewis and his companion. With steep and broken banks, on which American shrubs, mixed with flags and bulrushes, grew in unbounded luxuriance, the lake lay stretched before them, its clear depths reflecting the leaden hue of the wintry sky, and a slight breeze from the north rippling its polished surface. Less than a quarter of a mile of smooth greensward separated them from their dangerous neighbour. An artist would have longed to seize this moment for transferring to canvas or marble the expression of Lewis’s features. As he perceived the nearness and reality of the danger that threatened him, his spirit rose with the occasion, and calm self-reliance, dauntless courage, and an energetic determination to subdue the infuriated animals before him, at whatever risk, lent a brilliancy to his flashing eye, and imparted a look of stern resolve to his finely cut mouth, which invested his unusual beauty with a character of superhuman power such as the sculptors of antiquity sought to immortalise in their statues of heroes and demigods. Selecting an open space of turf unencumbered with trees or other obstacles, Lewis once more addressed his companion, saying—
“Now be ready. I am going to endeavour to turn them to the left, in order to get their heads away from the lake and uphill; but as I shall require both hands and all my strength for the reins, I want you to stand up and touch them smartly with the whip on the off-side of the neck. If you do this at the right moment, it will help to bring them round. Do you understand me?”
Richards replied in the affirmative, and Lewis, leaning forward and shortening his grasp on the reins, worked the mouths of the horses till he got their heads well up; then assuring himself by a glance that his companion was ready, he checked their speed by a great exertion of strength; and tightening the left rein suddenly, the groom at the same moment applying the whip as he had been desired, the fiery steeds, springing from the lash and yielding to the pressure of the bit, altered their course, and going round so sharply that the phaeton was again within an ace of being overturned, dashed forward in an opposite direction.
“You did that uncommon well, to be sure, sir,” exclaimed Richards, drawing a long breath like one relieved from the pressure of a painful weight. “I thought we was over once, though; it was a precious near go.”
“A miss is as good as a mile,” returned Lewis, smiling. “Do you see,” he continued, “they are slackening their pace; the hill is beginning to tell upon them already. Hand me the whip; I shall give the gentlemen a bit of a lesson before I allow them to stop, just to convince them that running away is not such a pleasant amusement as they appear to imagine.”
So saying, he waited till the horses began sensibly to relax their speed; then holding them tightly in hand, he punished them with the whip pretty severely, and gave them a good deal more running than they liked before he permitted them to stop, the nature of the ground (a gentle ascent of perfectly smooth turf) allowing him to inflict this discipline with impunity.
After proceeding two or three miles at the same speed he perceived another cross-road running through the park. Gradually pulling up as he approached it, he got his horses into a walk, and as soon as they had once again exchanged grass for gravel he stopped them to recover wind. The groom got down, and gathering a handful of fern, wiped the foam from their mouths and the perspiration from their reeking flanks.
“You’ve given ’em a pretty tidy warming, though, sir,” he observed. “If I was you I would not keep ’em standing too long.”
“How far are we from the house, do you imagine?” inquired Lewis.
“About three mile, I should say,” returned Richards. “It will take you nigh upon half-an-hour, if you drives ’em easy.”
Lewis looked at his watch, muttering, “More than an hour to Walter’s dinner-time.” He then continued, “Get up, Richards; I have not quite done with these horses yet;” adding, in reply to the man’s questioning glance as he reseated himself, “I’m only going to teach them that a herd of deer is not such a frightful object as they seem to imagine it.”
“Surely you’re never agoin’ to take’em near the deer again, Mr. Arundel; they’ll never stand it, sir,” expostulated Richards.
“You can get down if you like,” observed Lewis, with the slightest possible shade of contempt in his tone. “I will pick you up here as I return.”
Richards was a thorough John Bull, and it is a well-known fact that to hint to one of that enlightened race that he is afraid to do the most insane deed imaginable is quite sufficient to determine him to go through with it at all hazards. Accordingly, the individual in question pressed his hat on his brows to be prepared for the worst, and folding his arms with an air of injured dignity, sat sullenly hoping for an overturn, which might prove him right, even at the risk of a broken neck.
Lewis’s quick eye had discerned the herd of deer against a dark background of trees which had served to screen them from the less acute perceptions of the servant, and he now contrived, by skirting the aforesaid belt of Scotch firs, to bring the phaeton near the place where the deer were stationed without disturbing them, so that the horses were able clearly to see the creatures which had before so greatly alarmed them. It has been often remarked that horses are greatly terrified by an object seen but indistinctly, at which, when they are able to observe it more closely, they will show no signs of fear. Whether for this reason, or that the discipline they had undergone had cooled their courage and taught them the necessity of obedience, the iron-greys approached the herd of deer without attempting to repeat the manoeuvre which had been so nearly proving fatal to their driver and his companion. Lewis drove them up and down once or twice, each time decreasing the distance between the horses and the animals, to the sight of which he wished to accustom them, without any attempt at rebellion on their part beyond a slight preference for using their hind legs only in progression, and a very becoming determination to arch their necks and point their ears after the fashion of those high-spirited impossibilities which do duty for horses in Greek friezes and in the heated imagination of young lady artists, who possess a wonderful (a very wonderful) talent for sketching animals. Having continued this amusement till the deer once again conveyed themselves away, Lewis, delighted at having carried his point and overcome the difficulties which had opposed him, drove gently back to Broadhurst; and having committed the reeking horses to the care of a couple of grooms, who began hissing at them like a whole brood of serpents, returned to make his report and soothe the tribulation of that anxious hyæna in petticoats, Miss Martha Livingstone.