Eustace Marchmont: A friend of the people

by Evelyn Everett-Green

Eustace was alone in his room, dressing for dinner. His welcome from his kinsman had been kind and cordial, and he was now bracing himself for the discussion which must follow upon the request he had to make. The subject had not yet been broached between them, though he fancied that the Duke half suspected his errand, or rather the motive which had prompted it; but hitherto the talk had been all on public matters, and he had been relieved to find the old man by no means so hostile in mind towards the bill as he had feared to find him. Bride’s estimate of her father’s attitude of mind was pretty correct. He knew that some sort of change was needed, and that improved legislation was required for the peace and prosperity of the country; but he felt that the proposed measure would but be the beginning of an upheaval from which he shrank with natural distaste, and he feared that evils would follow of magnitude greater than those to be done away. Therefore he watched the advance of the wave with no little dread, feeling almost sad that he should have lived to see so many old landmarks washed away or submerged.

So much Eustace had gathered, but he was not daunted. Things might have been much worse. He had been received more cordially at the castle than he expected, and there was exhilaration in the thought of his close proximity to Bride, even though he resolved not to make any attempt this visit to approach her as a lover.

But he was still quite resolved to win her for his wife if possible. The few hours spent in her company had riveted his chains afresh. He had never met a woman who exercised one-tenth part of the charm upon him that Bride did. Her very unapproachableness made her dearer and more fascinating. The bright sunshine of the March afternoon beguiled him from his room some while before the dinner-hour. He strolled out into the gardens, and began wandering there, thinking of his love. Turning a corner, he came suddenly upon Abner, and was grieved to see such a change in the old man. His hair had grown many degrees more white, and there was a bowed look about the shoulders which had not been noticeable before. His fine old face was seamed with lines that told of pain, either mental or physical, whilst the eyes, though retaining their old steadfastness and brightness, had taken something of wistfulness withal, as though some haunting regret or unanswered longing were always present in his mind.

“Why, Tresithny, I fear you have been ill,” said Eustace, with his kindly smile, as he greeted the old man, and expressed his pleasure at seeing him again. “You have not worn as well as my uncle. Has the winter been too much for you?”

“Nay, it’s not the weather, sir—I’m too well seasoned to mind that. I hadn’t heard as we were tu see yu down to the castle again, sir. I wish you well, and hope I see yu in good health.”

“The best, thank you, Tresithny, and this beautiful air of yours is like the elixir of life, if you’ve ever heard of that. But I want to know what ails you; you are not looking the same man as when I left. Have you had some illness?”

“No, sir, thank yu,” answered Abner quietly, with a quick glance into Eustace’s face that seemed to tell him all he wished to know. “Belike yu haven’t heard of the trouble. Such things don’t get into the newspapers yu’ll be likely to see, I take it.”

“Trouble!—what trouble?” asked Eustace kindly, his quick sympathies stirred at once by the thought of any sort of suffering. “I have not heard much news from Penarvon and St. Bride since I left. My uncle has written occasionally, but he does not give me much local news.”

“No, sir, there’s other things more important to be spoke of; but his Grace was the best friend we had in the trouble, and there’s no manner of doubt that he saved his life—poor misguided lad. ’Twould have abin a hanging matter with him, as ’twas with t’other, but for his Grace coming himself to speak up for him. I’ll never forget that. He’s been our best friend throughout, him and our own Lady Bride—bless her!”

“Ay, you may well say that,” answered Eustace fervently; “a sweeter creature never drew breath on this earth. But I want to know more of this, Tresithny. What in the world has been going on? I did not know you could have such serious troubles in this little paradise of a place. It seems as though it should be exempt from the strife and crime of the great world.”