I told him that I had been fed like a prince, which only increased his ill humour. “She wants you to go and do her trees for nothing. I understand that old woman;” he said, as he gave me an inch of tallow candle. “But after real turtle and Champagne, you will be able to make something out of this. It came by the girl who is old Tabby’s niece, or cousin, or grandmother, or something. The footman, no doubt, was too grand to come down here. Don’t bother me with it. I want my nightcap.”
He gave me a letter, which he had opened, and which was addressed in a crabbed hand to “Mr. Cornelius Orchardson, Market Gardener, Sunbury;” and when he was gone, I read as follows:—
“Miss Coldpepper presents her compliments to Mr. Orchardson, and will be much obliged if he will send his nephew Christopher to the Hall at ten o’clock to-morrow morning, as Miss Coldpepper has something to say to him.”
My conscience being in a dreadful state of nervousness and discomfort, without anybody to relieve it to, or any one to put it on, I wondered and wondered what this could mean; till my dreams, like a thatcher’s pole, twisted it into a thousand ropes of many-coloured stuff and stream. And when the morning came at last, I could not set about my work, until I had learned what Tabby Tapscott thought about this new surprise. She, in her provoking ways, pretended to know everything, but would only shake her head and mutter, and tell me to insure my life. At last I saw that she knew nothing, and the only comfort that I could find was to tell her that she should never know, because she was an old humbug.
It was a dull and foggy morning, with a gray rime on the grass, and dead leaves hanging tipped with wet, and dribbles of puddles along the walk doubting whether to freeze or flow, and the whole air reeking with that Job’s comfort, which means that there is much worse to come. I buttoned my coat and strode more briskly, though going upon a loth errand, you may know.
When they showed me in at the tradesman’s door—for I then looked up to dignities, which exist by being looked up to—a strange and unaccustomed thing upset all the rally of my conscience. Regulus, the foremost of all beings in a well regulated household, came down the passage, at a pace which spoke nine volumes for his digestion, though his lips were clouted with fine cream; and instead of taking a nip at me, he threw up his head, as if he would have taken his hat off, if he wore one, and indulged in a bark of welcome, which went ringing back to the hall itself. Then he cut a caper round my feet, and with the innumerable laughter of his tail, fell fawning, and begged but a word from me. I have often seen men of small self-respect do that sort of thing to great personages, but I knew that this dog was full of self-respect, and had little for other people. What was passing in his mind I cannot say, but simply record his actions.
“Well, I never see the like!” said Charles, who had condescended to let me in. “Why, he snap’th worse than ever at me; though the Lord knows how I sweated to get ’un back. But come along this way, Master Kit; my lady will see you in the Justice-room.”
He showed me into a square panelled chamber, where old Squire Nicholas used to rule over poachers and little thieves brought before him by the parish constable; and with Regulus still at my heels, I stood waiting anxiously for the lady.
At length there came a rustle of silk moving slowly, watered silk, such as we seldom see now, and can scarcely find time to think of. And as fine as the silk, and as able to stand alone, was the lady inside it. Although she lived so near to us, and drove by in her carriage so often, I knew her rather by sight than speech, and better by report than either. She was tall, and straight, and of goodly presence, with fine large features, and a steadfast look, which expressed clear perception and strong resolve, but less violence of nature than her sister showed. Her abundant hair, drawn back from her ample forehead and coiled at the back of her head, would have been jet black but for a few lines of silver and an undercast of a tint like that of an American oak-leaf. To me she appeared more imposing and handsome than her sister Monica; but I may have thought more highly of her because she lived at Sunbury. This lady made me a graceful bow, a very slight one, but still it was a bow, and proved that her nature was better than that of the Honourable Mrs. Bulwrag. I replied with a low bend and scrape of my foot, which I always understand to be the proper thing, in such a case. And the guilt of my heart, as I thought of her dog, was enough to account for the deep blush I felt.
“Are you the young Mr. Orchardson,” she asked, “the nephew of that Mr. Orchardson who owns the large garden and long walls at Sunbury? Then I have a little matter to discuss with you. But how strongly my dog seems to take to you! It is not at all his general character. He is not at all devoted to mankind. But he has a remarkable memory. Perhaps you were kind to him when he was quite young. Or perhaps you were even his master?”