Soon after they arrived at the little town of Brading; and Mrs. Merton and Agnes went to visit the Church, while Mr. Merton rested for an hour or two at the inn. As they entered the church-yard, they saw, to their great joy, their old acquaintance Mr. Bevan, whom they had not seen before since they left Carisbrook Castle. He told them he had been staying at Newport; but that he had now come to Brading to see the Church, which was the oldest in the island, part of it being said to have been built in the year 704. “It is also large for the Isle of Wight, which is remarkable for the smallness of its churches,” continued he; “and it contains some curious old tombs of the Oglanders, the founder of whose family came over with William the Conqueror; also the original of the epitaph which has been so often quoted, beginning: ‘Forgive, blest shade! the tributary tear’—I do not remember the rest, but the words are doubtless familiar to you.”
As he was speaking, a woman came up, and asked if the party wished to see the church. The old gentleman replied that they did. “Because,” said she, dropping a curtsy, “my husband, as keeps the key, is gone out with the key in his pocket, and won’t be home ’till night.”
Mrs. Merton and Agnes could not help laughing at the woman, who gave this intelligence with the air of one who is communicating something peculiarly agreeable, and which she means to be remarkably civil; but the old gentleman did not take it so quietly: on the contrary, he went into a passion, and ordered the woman to send for her husband immediately. She said she did not know where to find him, and curtsying again, walked off. The rage of the old gentleman was now excessive: his face became quite red; he stamped, and shook his fist at the woman; till, happening accidentally to cast his eyes on Agnes, he was evidently struck at the expression of her countenance, and felt ashamed of having exposed himself so much before a lady and a child. He stopped, pushed his wig back into its place,—as it had been disordered by his vehemence,—and began to apologise; but, as he saw Mrs. Merton looked grave, he stopped suddenly. He then endeavoured to turn their attention to another subject, and began speaking of Brading Haven.
“The sea here,” said he, “spreads over a piece of land eight or nine hundred acres in extent, which, tradition tells us, was formerly partly covered with an extensive oak forest, in which the Druids performed their rites. In the centre of the forest was a stone-cased well, in which Merlin, who was a powerful magician, had confined a troublesome water-spirit; and the exact situation of this well was kept a secret, as it was said, that if ever the lid was raised, ruin to the whole country round would follow. The time of the Druids passed away, and all memory of the well was lost, till the time of William the Conqueror, when the Norman knight, Fitz Osborne, who subdued the island and reigned over it as an independent sovereign, gave this tract of land to one of his followers, Robert Okelandro. This knight, being fond of hunting, determined to clear away the underwood in the forest, and in doing so he discovered the enchanted well, and ordered its cover to be removed that it might be filled up; some of the oldest inhabitants of the place remonstrated; but he would be obeyed; the cover was taken off, and the waters rushed up with such force as to overwhelm the whole district, and to drown the adventurous knight and several of his attendants.”
Mrs. Merton thanked the old gentleman for relating this legend, and asked him if the harbour was not useful for shipping.
“No,” returned he; “it is too shallow to bear anything but a small boat, even when the tide is in; and when it is out it is only a mass of mud. In the reign of James I. Sir Hugh Middleton, the same who first supplied London with water, contracted with some Dutchmen to embank this spot, and redeem it from the sea; but after upwards of seven thousand pounds had been expended, a furious tide made a breach in their bank, and the land being again overflowed, they were at length compelled to give up the project in despair.”
The old gentleman now bowed and took his leave, and Mrs. Merton returned his salutation very coldly, as she had been disgusted with the violent rage he had displayed, and which was so unbefitting his age and general intelligence. Agnes was also quite hurt to find him so very different from what she had expected. “I never could have believed he would have behaved so; his appearance was so respectable,” said she.
“My dear Agnes,” returned her mother; “this is your first experience in that important lesson in life—that it is always dangerous to place much reliance on appearances.”
They now returned to the inn, where they found the carriage waiting; on the road they stayed a moment to look again at Brading Haven, with the little town of Bembridge, forming the southern point of the harbour, and approaching nearly to the pretty village of St. Helen’s at its northern point. Mrs. Merton was anxious to pass through St. Helen’s, as she wanted to show Agnes the old church-tower which is now washed by the sea, though it is said to have been once a mile from it, and the green, round which the houses of the village are built; but as Mr. Merton was far from well, she thought it advisable to proceed to Ryde as speedily as possible, and after a very dull ride, only varied by the beautiful view from St. John’s of the town of Ryde, they arrived at that place, and drove to the Pier Hotel.