Digby Heathcote: The Early Days of a Country Gentleman's Son and Heir

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“It’s some on old Dame Marlow’s tricks. I don’t think az how any one could a come in here to play zick a prank,” observed another, a believer in the Dame’s powers.

Some, however, ventured to suggest that as there were young gentlemen at the Hall, and young gentlemen did play very bad tricks at times, they might have done it. Opinion was setting very much in this direction, when John Pratt appeared, and was highly indignant that any such reflection should be cast on his young master.

Mr Bowdler having assured himself that no more harm was likely to occur, drove away again.

“I am not justified in allowing the boys to go on in this way,” he said to himself. “I must inform Mr Heathcote of what has occurred, and get them sent to where they will be properly looked after; I should like to get them separated; one will learn no good from the other.”

Meantime the disturbance in the coach-yard increased, and John Pratt had at last to summon his master from the ball-room to quell it. Mr Heathcote’s voice was now heard inquiring what was the matter, when a dozen people tried to give their own versions of the state of affairs.

“Very well, my friends,” said Mr Heathcote, after listening to them patiently, “keep the peace among yourselves for the present, and if the culprits can be discovered, I will take care, I promise you, that they shall be properly punished. And John Pratt, get more lanterns, and have all the things in the carriages collected, and distributed to the proper owners as they are claimed.”

Having said this, the master of the house returned to his guests. Julian and Digby, when they heard what Mr Heathcote had said, were in a great fright. Digby knew very well that what his father said he would do—that he assuredly would do. He had no hope of escaping detection, and was certain that he should be punished. Of course, he remembered that he had not actually taken the linch-pins out of the carriages, but he had stood by, if not aiding and abetting, at all events not making any strenuous effort to prevent the deed. He, therefore, never for a moment dreamed of sheltering himself under the plea that he had not touched the linch-pins. It scarcely occurred to him that Julian might have exonerated him in a great degree by generously declaring that he himself had proposed the trick and had carried it out. Had he been in Julian’s place, that is what he would have done; but he did not ask Julian to act thus for him, and he made up his mind to abide the consequences. He felt that any excuse he could offer for himself would throw more blame on Julian, and it did occur to him that even then his word might be doubted.

In the meantime Mrs Fuller’s carriage was put to rights, the coachman mounted on his box, the ladies were handed in, and the young gentlemen got up once more on the rumble, all of them very angry and annoyed, as well they might be, and some not a little bruised. Mr Heathcote assured them of his vexation at what had occurred, and promised them, as he had the coachmen, that he would get the culprits properly punished.

The party at length separated, and Digby, more unhappy and discontented with himself than he had been for a long time, went to bed and cried with very vexation till he fell asleep. It was a pity that his repentance was not of a more permanent nature.

The next morning he arose refreshed, and though he felt an unusual weight at his heart, yet he looked at things in a brighter light. Julian looked immaterial (as Kate called his expression of countenance) when he came down to breakfast, and had evidently made up his mind to brazen out the affair, should suspicion fall on him. The event of the evening naturally, however, became the subject of conversation, and Digby felt conscious that he was blushing, while he dared not meet the eye of any one present. He eat away perseveringly at his breakfast, and bolted so hot a cup of tea, that he scalded his mouth, and was about to make his escape, when his father’s eye fell on him. Digby knew it, though he did not dare to look up, and Mr Heathcote felt very nearly certain that the culprit was his own son. Had he doubted it much, he would have asked him, in joke, if he could tell how the affair happened; but he was silent, and felt sad and annoyed. He was sorry to suppose that Digby had been guilty of so foolish and really wicked an act, and his pride too, of which he had a good deal, was hurt at the thought of having, in accordance with his word, publicly to punish him.