CHAPTER XVII.
Without the assistance of a composing draught Mr Primrose slept soundly and woke calmly. But, being naturally impetuous and hasty, he could not help uttering a few monosyllables of impatience at the thought that he had travelled two hundred miles from his daughter, and had incurred the risk of breaking his neck in making a journey to the place where his daughter was not.
As, however, he was so near Smatterton, he would not of course return to London without seeing Mrs Greendale, and thanking her for the kind attention which she had paid to Penelope. He was not aware that the good lady had plagued and worried the poor girl almost out of her life. Dr Greendale had never, in his communications to Mr Primrose, said anything about the annoying fidgettiness of Mrs Greendale; and he himself, by virtue of his close and constant application to study, had not felt much inconvenience from her temper, excepting so far as an occasional interruption, which was soon forgotten. But poor Penelope did not study controversial theology, and therefore she had felt all the inconvenience of Mrs Greendale’s humours and caprices. Of all this Mr Primrose knew nothing; he therefore resolved to call and pay his respects to the widow.
Having learned a lesson of forethought from his long fruitless journey, he did not proceed to Smatterton before he had enquired of Mr Darnley if Mrs Greendale yet resided there. By this enquiry he learned that the living had been disposed of, and that as the new rector was a young and single man, and though he had taken possession of the rectory-house, he had been kind enough to accommodate Mrs Greendale with a residence there till it might suit her to change the place of her abode. “That is very kind of the young man,” said Mr Primrose; “I like him for it: and pray what is his name and where does he come from?”
Mr Darnley at these questions put on one of his stately professional looks, and said: “His name, sir, is Pringle, he comes from the university of Oxford, he is a son of Lord Smatterton’s steward. At present I have but little acquaintance with him.”
There seemed, from Mr Darnley’s manner of speaking, to be on his part no great desire to increase the acquaintance. Of this, however, Mr Primrose took no notice; in fact, he hardly understood it, for his own manner was straitforward and downright, he did not accustom himself to innuendos and insinuations. Thanking the rector of Neverden for his attention and hospitality, Mr Primrose proceeded immediately after breakfast to the village of Smatterton. Mrs Greendale was within, and she received Mr Primrose with the utmost cordiality and cheerfulness: but when she began to allude to her poor dear husband then the tears came into her eyes. Mr Primrose sympathized with her, and they both talked of old times; and as the subject was changed the tears were dried up. It was very right that Mrs Greendale should most cordially receive Mr Primrose, for all persons who come home from the East Indies in good spirits are supposed to come home rich, and there is to some minds something very agreeable in the sight of a rich man. Let sentimentality-people prose as much as they please about the homage that is paid to wealth; it would be much worse if that homage were paid to poverty. The conversation then turned to Penelope, and many and sincere were the thanks that Mr Primrose returned to Mrs Greendale for her very kind attentions to the poor girl; and then Mrs Greendale, in spite of all the severe and sneering rebukes, which in former days she had lavished upon her niece, began to launch out into commendations of the young lady’s beauty, wit, and accomplishments.
“But what a pity it is, Mr Primrose, that you did not know that Penelope was in London. Well, you will have such a treat in seeing her again, she is so grown and so improved. She is a favorite with everybody. A day or two before my poor dear husband died, we had a party, and Lord Spoonbill, and Colonel Crop, and Miss Spoonbill were all here; and Lord Spoonbill was so attentive, you can’t think. Then my Lady Smatterton has taken such a fancy to her, that she insists upon having her in London.”
“Ay, but Mrs Greendale, I don’t understand the condition on which my child is thus taken up to London; and to tell you the truth, I do not altogether approve the plan which Mr Darnley informed me was in contemplation. It is not very agreeable to my feelings that my daughter should be made a public performer.”
“Oh dear no, certainly; but I dare say the Countess of Smatterton would not recommend anything improper.”
“I don’t know what may be Lady Smatterton’s notions of propriety, but I shall take care that my daughter does not adopt that or any other profession.”
While they were talking, the arrival of Nick Muggins with the letter-bag reminded Mr Primrose that it might be desirable to apprize Penelope of his being in England and of his intention of immediately seeing her. He therefore dispatched a note to his daughter, under cover to the Right Honorable the Earl of Smatterton, and thus he made wise provision against further accidents preventing their meeting.
As Mr Primrose had experienced the inconvenience of one overturn by the stage-coach, he determined not to trust himself again so soon to the same mode of conveyance; and as he intended to travel post, and as he was not about to set out immediately, he amused himself with strolling about the village to admire its beauties; for everybody said that Smatterton was a very pretty village. In the month of December English scenery seldom appears to great advantage; and while Mr Primrose was looking for, rather than at, the beauties of Smatterton, who should he meet but the very identical Mr Kipperson with whom he had travelled in the stage-coach? The parties recognized each other immediately, and they presently entered into chat. Mr Kipperson expressed great concern for the accident, but was exceedingly rejoiced to find that his fellow-traveller was not seriously hurt. “For indeed, sir,” said he, “I almost thought that you were killed.”
“So did I,” replied Mr Primrose: “but what can be the use of travelling at that unreasonably rapid rate? When I was in England, sixteen years ago, the stage-coaches used to go at a very reasonable and moderate pace.”
“Yes, yes, I remember it,” said Mr Kipperson; “but we should never be able to get on with business were it not for this quick travelling. I will tell you, sir, an instance of its utility: the other day I received a letter from my friend the Earl of Smatterton, informing me of an important debate which was just coming on, and it was a matter of infinite moment that I should be in town in order to attend some meetings that were to be held, and to give my opinion concerning some clauses which were likely to be introduced greatly affecting the agricultural interest. I received the letter just in time to take advantage of the coach, and, by means of quick travelling, I arrived in town time enough to give my views of the subject, and to prevent the passing of some most destructive measures.”
“You are a member of parliament, I presume?” said Mr Primrose.
“No, sir,” said Mr Kipperson, with that sort of air that seemed to indicate that he did not at all desire that honor, and that he was a person of greater importance; “but now and then parliament is pleased to do me the honor of consulting me on some topics connected with the interests of agriculture.”
Though Mr Primrose was what in ordinary language is called an independent man, yet he could not but feel reverence for greatness; and finding that the gentleman with whom he was conversing was a person of some consequence, he was desirous of knowing who it was. This desire was but slightly hinted, and immediately the great agricultural luminary gratified Mr Primrose’s laudable thirst after knowledge by saying: “My name, sir, is Kipperson. Kipperson, sir, of Smatterton.”
It was very excusable that Mr Primrose, who had been so many years out of England, should not be familiar with the name, and should not be aware that he was addressing the celebrated agriculturist, Kipperson of Smatterton. Mr Kipperson himself was so modest a man that he did not choose to say that he was the celebrated one of that name, but he took especial care to let it be understood indirectly and circuitously that he was a person of some importance in the world.
And now it was very natural that the great agriculturist should be desirous of knowing the name and designation of his fellow traveller, and to ascertain that was also no great difficulty. As soon as he found that he was conversing with the father of Penelope Primrose, he broke out into the most eloquent panegyrics on the character, moral, intellectual, and professional, of the late rector of the parish, and congratulated Mr Primrose in having had the good fortune to confide his daughter to the care of so superlatively excellent a man. “But, sir,” as suddenly recollecting himself, “perhaps you will do me the honor to walk in and sit down under my humble roof; for I can give you the latest information concerning Miss Primrose. It is very singular that I should have travelled up to London with the daughter and down from London with the father.”
At that singularity, or at his own penetration in discovering the curious coincidence, Mr Kipperson smiled. Mr Primrose accepted the invitation and walked into Mr Kipperson’s house, which was near the place where they had met. It was a piece of affectation in Mr Kipperson to call his place of abode a humble roof. True, it was not so magnificent as Smatterton castle, but its owner had been at great pains and expense to make it look quite the reverse of humble. That which had been a productive little garden was converted into a lawn. Those barns, piggeries, and outhouses, in which was deposited no small part of the owner’s wealth, had been gracefully, but ungratefully, planted out. French windows supplied the place of old-fashioned casements, and green verandahs gave Peter Kipperson’s farm-house as much as possible the air of an Oriental palace.
Mr Primrose was surprised, as Peter hoped and designed, at the very learned air of the library, to say nothing of the numerous busts and casts which in the narrow entrance occupied that room which would have been much more usefully devoted to cloak-pegs. When they were seated in the library Mr Kipperson commenced his narrative, telling Mr Primrose what the reader is already acquainted with. But still the father of Penelope was not reconciled even to the attempt or proposal to make his daughter a public singer. Mr Kipperson however assured him, that nothing could be more respectable than the manner in which the Countess of Smatterton designed to bring out Miss Primrose.
“I was present at an evening party,” said the agriculturist, “given by my friend the Countess of Smatterton, for the express purpose of introducing Miss Primrose to some of the best society in town. There were several persons of rank there, and among the rest the celebrated Duchess of Steeple Bumstead; and her Grace was quite enraptured with Miss Primrose.”
“Well,” said the father of Penelope with some shortness and dryness of manner, “I don’t understand these matters. I have been so long out of England that I almost forget the customs of my native land; but I do not approve of this kind of association with persons of so much higher rank and fortune. The Countess of Smatterton cannot consider my daughter as an equal, and therefore she is tolerated for the amusement she can afford. I don’t like it, sir, I don’t like it. But, Mr Kipperson, can you tell me what kind of a man is Lord Spoonbill?”
Mr Kipperson promptly replied: “A man of no intellect whatever.”
“A fig for intellect,” replied Mr Primrose; “but is he a man of good character?”
“Indeed sir,” responded the great agriculturist of Smatterton, “I am sorry to say he is not. The Earl himself is a very respectable man, so far as moral conduct is concerned, though he is a man of no mind; and he is a proud man, very distant and pompous, and quite an exclusive.”
“An exclusive!” echoed Mr Primrose; “what is meant by an exclusive?”
“By exclusive, sir, I mean that the Earl is not easily led to associate with those whom he considers of an inferior rank to himself; he is one of a set, as it were.”
“Oh, is that all!” exclaimed Mr Primrose; “why at that rate all the world is exclusive. This is no new character though it may be a new name.”
“Very true, indeed, very true, there has always been too much pride among persons of high rank.”
“And not too little among persons of low rank, I presume,” replied Mr Primrose; “and I suppose as you have a set of people in England, called exclusives, you have most likely another set called intrusives. For my part I like a little pride, or at least what the world calls pride; I have so much myself, that I dislike the situation in which I find my daughter is placed, and I shall make all haste to remove her from it. I am most happy that I have arrived in England time enough to prevent her from making a public display of her musical talents.”
The wise and scientific Mr Kipperson was not sorry to hear that the father of Penelope Primrose could talk thus boldly and definitely concerning his daughter’s independence. It was also not unpleasant to him to hear that it was the intention of the young lady’s father to remove her from the house and patronage of the Earl of Smatterton. It has been already hinted that Mr Kipperson was an admirer of the young lady, and it was not likely that his admiration should be less when he found that her father had returned to England in possession, most probably, of ample means of securing his daughter’s independence. This consideration inspired the agriculturist with an earnest desire of making himself more agreeable than usual; and as there was a great deal of freedom of manner and candour of feeling about Mr Primrose, he very readily and sociably conversed with Mr Kipperson on any and every topic that could be started. In the fullness of his heart the admirer of Penelope urged the young lady’s father to partake of a humble dinner, quite in a social friendly way. This invitation however was of necessity declined, it being the intention of Mr Primrose to pass the remainder of the day at the rectory.
The mention of the rectory led Mr Kipperson to speak of the new rector, the Rev. Charles Pringle. “You will of course meet this gentleman at dinner. He is a very different man from our late rector; as yet we know little of him. I have conversed with him occasionally; he seems to have very just notions on the subject of the interests of agriculture; but his mind does not appear to be comprehensive and philosophical; he does not read much, I think; indeed, he has scarcely any books of his own, and though I have offered him the use of my library he does not avail himself of it. But you will see him at the rectory at dinner, and then you may form your own opinion of him.”
It was very kind and liberal of Mr Kipperson to give Mr Primrose leave to form his own opinion of the new rector. What opinion Mr Primrose did form of the new rector we cannot say, for he was not very free in expressing his opinion of those with whom he had no common interest or sympathies, nor was he particularly and curiously observant to ascertain whether those with whom he conversed occasionally were persons of comprehensive and philosophical minds or not. He was not quite sure that he knew what was meant by the term comprehensive, as applied to the mind; and as to philosophical, if that meant loving wisdom, he himself was philosophical enough in all conscience, for he liked wise men much better than fools. In a word, the father of Penelope had quite as good an understanding as multitudes who make a great deal of prating about intellect, but he was not a man of much reading, and did not value pedantry of any kind, whether literary, scientific, fashionable or philosophical.