Chapter Four.
There is an old saying that, “What is born in the grain is shown in the fruit.” No sooner had Ralph Clavering recovered his physical strength than he was himself again in all other respects, or even still more dictatorial and abusive if any one offended him than before. At first Lilly was in despair. At last she recollected her own motto, “We must try before we can succeed.”
“Yes, I will try again, and very hard before I give it up in despair.”
The winter had been very severe, and numbers of labourers had been thrown out of work. Ralph was allowed at first only to drive out in the carriage. One day as he was waiting in the porch, filled with the warm sunshine, for his luxurious vehicle to come to the door, two ragged objects were seen approaching up the avenue. One was a thin and tall dark man, the other was a lad of the same foreign complexion. A frown gathered on Ralph’s brow as he saw them. “What do you want here, you fellows?” he shouted out.
“Food and money to pay the doctor, young master,” answered the man, coming up to the floor. “The rest of the family are down with sickness camped in Fouley Copse, and they’ll die if they don’t get help.”
“Then you are gipsies, and we don’t encourage gipsies,” said Ralph.
“You wouldn’t let us die, young master, would you?” asked the man, humbly.
“No fear of that, I’m up to you,” cried Ralph, growing angry. “Be off with you.”
“I’ve always heard that one good turn deserves another, and believed it too, gipsy though I am, but I am not likely to get it this time,” said the man, eyeing Ralph with a glance of contempt.
Just then Lilly, hearing her cousin speaking loudly, came to the hall door. No sooner did she see the man than she exclaimed, “Why, that is the kind gipsy who carried you to Dame Harvey’s cottage, and would take no reward. What is it you want, poor man? Tell us, that we may do what we can.”
The gipsy repeated his previous story.
“We will go there immediately, and carry some food and other things for your family,” she said. “But you are hungry yourselves, Ralph, tell Mrs Gammage that she must let them have some dinner, and that she must put up some food and blankets, and some other things for you to carry.”
Ralph demurred. Lilly grew impatient. “If we do not find matters as they are described, we can but bring the things back,” she observed.
This satisfied her cousin, who had thus suddenly become so scrupulous. It is wonderful how careful people are not to make a mistake in doing an act of charity.
“Blessings on thee, young mistress! You remember me, then, sweet lady?” said the gipsy.
“I do, indeed,” answered Lilly; “but I did not hear your name.”
“Arnold I am called in this country, sweet lady,” answered the gipsy. “My people are not wont to ask favours, but we are starving; and though you call us outcasts and heathens, we can be grateful.”
Ralph had gone to ask Mrs Gammage, very much to that lady’s astonishment, to give the gipsies some food. Still greater was her surprise when he insisted on having some provisions put up to carry to their encampment. “Cousin Lilly will have it so,” he answered, when she expostulated with him on the subject.
This settled the matter; and the gipsies, being invited into the servants’ hall, had a more abundant meal placed before them than they had seen for many a day.
Ralph felt a pleasure which he had never before experienced, as he got into the pony-carriage with the stores the housekeeper had provided. Lilly rode by his side, and away they went. They got to the encampment before Arnold and his son could reach it. It was in the centre of a thick copse, which sheltered the tents from the wind. They had need of such shelter, for the tents were formed of old canvas thickened by mats of rushes, but so low, that they scarcely allowed the inmates to sit upright. They took the gipsies completely by surprise, and Lilly saw at a glance that Arnold had in no way exaggerated their miserable condition. Great was the astonishment, therefore, of the poor people at having a plentiful supply of provisions presented to them. Lilly, who soon saw that those who were most ill were far beyond her skill, promised to send Dr Morison to them.
Lilly and Ralph were still at the encampment when Arnold and his son arrived. Their expressions of gratitude, if not profuse, were evidently sincere. So reduced were the whole party to starvation, that it seemed likely, had aid not arrived, they must all soon have died. There were two or three girls and boys sitting on the ground, covered up with old mats, their elf-locks almost concealing their features, of which little more than their black sparkling eyes were visible, while some smaller children were crouching down under the rags which their mother had heaped over her. There was an iron pot hanging from a triangle over the fire; but it contained but a few turnips and other vegetables, not a particle of meat. Even the pony which drew the family cart looked half-starved, as if sharing the general distress.
“It is a pleasure to help those poor people,” observed Ralph to his cousin, as they returned homeward. “I did not suppose so much wretchedness existed in England.”
“There is far more than we have seen to-day,” said Lilly. “When hard times come, there are thousands and thousands thrown out of work, who then from one day to another do not know how they are to find food to put into their mouths on the next.”
“I should think that they might lay by when they are getting full wages,” remarked Ralph.
A carriage passing prevented Lilly from hearing the remark. The groom, who was driving, replied to it. “A hard job, Mr Ralph, for a poor man with a large family of hungry boys and girls able to eat, but to earn nothing, to lay by out of eight or nine shillings a week. Many a hard-working, strong man, gets no more. Why, Mr Ralph, you spend more on your clothes, gloves, and washing, and such like things.”
“Yes; but I am different, Thomas, you know. I couldn’t do without good clothes and other things,” answered Ralph.
Thomas, fancying that he would be supported by Miss Lilly, ventured to say more than he would otherwise have done, and so he replied, “Don’t see the difference, Mr Ralph. A rich man can’t wear many more clothes at a time, or eat much more, than a poor one; and a poor one wants food and clothing as much as his betters. If he can’t get them by honest means he sickens and dies, or takes to stealing. I don’t know how the rich would act if they were to have the temptations the poor are exposed to!”
Ralph was not inclined to say anything more on the subject to Thomas; he felt angry at his speaking so plainly. Thomas had never before done so, undoubtedly because he was sensible how useless it would have been.
Not long after this they reached Dr Morison’s house. Lilly told her tale, and the doctor promised to set off immediately to the gipsy encampment.
Never had Ralph appeared to greater advantage than he did on that day at dinner. He laughed and talked, and made himself generally agreeable. His father and mother were surprised, and hailed the change as a sign of returning health. The doctor called in the evening. He had visited the gipsy encampment, and stated his belief, that if aid had not been sent to them, two or more of their number would have died before many days were over. “They owe their lives under Providence to you, Miss Vernon, I assure you,” said the doctor.
“Not more to me than to my cousin,” answered Lilly, promptly. “He got the eatables from Mrs Gammage, and carried them to the encampment. I should have been afraid of going alone.”
The doctor did not repeat a version of the story which he had heard from Arnold, but he replied, “I am truly glad to hear that Mr Ralph busies himself about the welfare of his fellow-creatures.”
Mr and Mrs Clavering looked surprised; the words struck strangely on their ears. They were so different to what they were accustomed to hear. Mrs Clavering had been inclined to complain of her son and niece having visited the gipsies for fear they might catch a fever from them or get robbed, and now she heard them praised by Dr Morison, for whose opinion she had great respect; so she said nothing. Every day after this Lilly and Ralph paid a visit to the encampment, taking not only food but some blankets, with some of which Mrs Gammage had supplied them. Others had actually been bought by Ralph, at his cousin’s instigation, with his own money. There could be no doubt from the way they expressed themselves, that the gipsies really were grateful for the kindness shown them, so different from the treatment they had been accustomed to receive from the world. Their hand was supposed to be against every man, and every man’s hand was undoubtedly against them.
At length the whole family had so completely recovered, that Arnold told them that he should leave the neighbourhood. “The gentlefolks don’t like our ways, and we should be sorry, after what you have done for us, if we came foul of any of your people,” said the gipsy.
“So should we, indeed,” answered Lilly. “And I hope you will not do anything elsewhere to get yourselves into trouble.”
“No fear, sweet lady,” said Arnold, with the courtesy so often found among his people. “The thought that you would be offended would prevent us.”