“Sir, you are very right,” Squire Popplewell replied; and, “That is Bible truth,” said the farmer.
“Our minds are enlarged by experience,” resumed the genial factor, pleasantly, and bowing to the ladies, who declined to say a word until a better opportunity, “and we like to see the process going on with others. But a nest must be found for these young doves—a quiet one, a simple one, a place where they may learn to put up with one another's cookery. The secret of happiness in this world is not to be too particular. I have hit upon the very place to make them thankful by-and-by, when they come to look back upon it—a sweet little hole, half a league away from anybody. All is arranged—a frying-pan, a brown-ware tea-pot, a skin of lard, a cock and a hen, to lay some eggs; a hundredweight of ship biscuits, warranted free from weevil, and a knife and fork. Also a way to the sea, and a net, for them to fish together. Nothing more delightful can be imagined. Under such circumstances, they will settle, in three days, which is to be the master—which I take to be the most important of all marriage settlements. And, unless I am very much mistaken, it will be the right one—the lady. My little heroine, Jerry Carroway, is engaged as their factotum, and every auspice is favorable. But without your consent, all is knocked on the head; for the cottage is yours, and the tenant won't go out, even under temptation of five guineas, without your written order. Mistress Anerley, I appeal to you. Captain, say nothing. This is a lady's question.”
“Then I like to have a little voice sometimes, though it is not often that I get it. And, Mr. Mordacks, I say 'Yes.' And out of the five guineas we shall get our rent, or some of it, perhaps, from Poacher Tim, who owes us nigh upon two years now.”
The farmer smiled at his wife's good thrift, and, being in a pleasant mood, consented, if so be the law could not be brought against him, and if the young couple would not stop too long, or have any family to fall upon the rates. The factor assured him against all evils; and then created quite a brisk sensation by telling them, in strict confidence, that the young officer was one Lancelot Yordas, own first cousin to the famous Robin Lyth, and nephew to Sir Duncan Yordas. And the lady was the daughter of Sir Duncan's oldest friend, the very one whose name he had given to his son. Wonder never ceased among them, when they thought how things came round.
Things came round not only thus, but also even better afterward. Mordacks had a very beautiful revenge of laughter at old Jellicorse, by outstripping him vastly in the family affairs. But Mr. Jellicorse did not care, so long as he still had eleven boxes left of title-deeds to Scargate Hall, no liability about the twelfth, and a very fair prospect of a lawsuit yet for the multiplication of the legal race. And meeting Mr. Mordacks in the highest legal circles, at Proctor Brigant's, in Crypt Court, York, he acknowledged that he never met a more delightful gentleman, until he found out what his name was. And even then he offered him a pinch of snuff, and they shook hands very warmly without anything to pay.
When Robin Lyth came home he was dissatisfied at first—so difficult is mankind to please—because his good luck had been too good. No scratch of steel, no permanent scorch of powder, was upon him, and England was not in the mood to value any unwounded valor. But even here his good luck stood him in strong stead, and cured his wrong. For when the body of the lamented hero arrived at Spithead, in spirits of wine, early in December, it was found that the Admiralty had failed to send down any orders about it. Reports, however, were current of some intention that the hero should lie in state, and the battered ship went on with him. And when at last proper care was shown, and the relics of one of the noblest men that ever lived upon the tide of time were being transferred to a yacht at the Nore, Robin Lyth, in a sad and angry mood, neglected to give a wide berth to a gun that was helping to keep up the mourning salute, and a piece of wad carried off his starboard whisker.
This at once replaced him in the popular esteem, and enabled him to land upon the Yorkshire coast with a certainty of glorious welcome. Mr. Mordacks himself came down to meet him at the Northern Landing, with Dr. Upround and Robin Cockscroft, and nearly all the men, and entirely all the women and children, of Little Denmark. Strangers also from outlandish parts, Squire Popplewell and his wife Deborah, Mrs. Carroway (with her Tom, and Jerry, and Cissy, and lesser Carroways, for her old aunt Jane was gone to Paradise at last, and had left her enough to keep a pony-carriage), and a great many others, and especially a group of four distinguished persons, who stood at the top of the slide, because of the trouble of getting back if they went down.
These had a fair and double-horsed carriage in the lane, at the spot where fish face their last tribunal; and scarcely any brains but those of Flamborough could have absorbed such a spectacle as this, together with the deeper expectations from the sea. Of these four persons, two were young enough, and two not so young as they had been, but still very lively, and well pleased with one another. These were Mrs. Carnaby and Mr. Bart; the pet of the one had united his lot with the darling of the other; for good or for bad, there was no getting out of it, and the only thing was to make the best of it. And being good people, they were doing this successfully. Poor Mrs. Carnaby had said to Mr. Bart, as soon as Mr. Mordacks let her know about the wedding, “Oh, but, Mr. Bart, you are a gentleman; now, are you not? I am sure you are, though you do such things! I am sure of it by your countenance.”
“Madam,” Mr. Bart replied, with a bow that was decisive, “if I am not, it is my own fault, as it is the fault of every man.”
At this present moment they were standing with their children, Lancelot and Insie, who had nicely recovered from matrimony, and began to be too high-spirited. They all knew, by virtue of Mr. Mordacks, who Robin Lyth was; and they wanted to see him, and be kind to him, if he made no claim upon them. And Mr. Bart desired, as his father's friend, to shake hands with him, and help him, if help were needed.