An English Squire

Cheriton laughed; but as he walked homeward he turned and looked back on the tumble-down, picturesque village at his feet. Loud, rough sounds of a noisy quarrel in the little street came to his ears, and some boys passed him manifestly the worse for drink, though they pulled themselves up and tried to avoid his notice. It was not quite a new idea which Virginia had put into shape; but as the steep hill forced him to slacken his steps, he could not see that the strength which had proved insufficient for a more selfish object was likely to be worth consecrating to the service of his neighbours.

Chapter Six.

A New Ambition

“Like a young courtier of the king’s – like the king’s young courtier.”

In the first week of September Jack came home, and Bob also came over from Ashrigg to assist in demolishing the partridges. The empty, lonely house affected the spirits of the two lads in a way neither of them had foreseen; the unoccupied drawing-room, the absence of Nettie’s rapid footsteps, the freedom from their grandmother’s strictures on dress and deportment – all seemed strange and unnatural; and when they were not absolutely out shooting, they hung about disconsolately, and grumbled to Cheriton over every little alteration. Jack, indeed, recovered himself after a day or two, but he looked solemn, and intensified Cherry’s sense that things were amiss, strongly disapproving of his principle of non-interference. He contrived, too, whether innocently or not, to ask questions that exposed Alvar’s ignorance of the names and qualities of places and people, and betrayed delays in giving orders, misconceptions of requirements, and many a lapse from order and method. Moreover, the way in which some of the excellent old dependents showed their loyalty to the old regime, was by doing nothing without orders. Consequently, a hedge remained unmended till the cows got through into a plantation, and ate the tops off the young trees, – “Mr Lester had given no order on the subject;” and a young horse was thrown down and broke his knees through Mr Lester desiring the wrong person to exercise him. Then, of two candidates for a situation, Alvar often managed to choose the wrong one, and with the sort of irritability that seemed to be growing on him, would not put up with suggestions.

“What?” said Jack; “one of those poaching, thieving Greens taken on as stable-boy! And Jos, too – the worst of the lot! Why, he has been in prison twice. A nice companion for all the other lads about the place! I saw little Sykes after him this morning. I should have thought you would have stopped that, Cherry, at least!”

“I did not know of it, Jack, till too late,” said Cherry quietly.

“Well,” said Jack, driving his hands into his pockets and frowning fiercely, “I don’t think it’s right to let such things pass without a protest. Something will happen that cannot be undone. I don’t approve of systems by which people’s welfare is thrown into the hands of a few; but if they are – if you are those few, it’s – it’s more criminal than many things of which the law takes cognisance, to neglect their interest. It’s destroying the last relics of reality, and bringing the whole social edifice to destruction.”

“What I think,” said Bob, “is that if a man’s a gentleman, and has been accustomed to see things in a proper point of view, he acts accordingly.”

“A gentleman! A man’s only claim to be a gentleman is that he recognises the whole brotherhood of humanity and his duties as a human being.”

“Come, I don’t know,” said Bob, not quite sure where these expressions were leading him.

“His duty to his neighbour,” said Cheriton.

“You worry yourself fifty times too much about it all,” said Jack, with vehement inconsistency.

“Well, perhaps I do,” said Cheriton, glad to turn the conversation. “Come, tell me how you got on in Wales, I have never heard a word of it.”

Jack looked at him for a moment, and with something of an effort began to talk about his reading party; but presently he warmed with the topic, and Cherry brightened into animation at the sound of familiar names and former interests; they began to laugh over old jokes, and quarrel over old subjects of disputation; and they were talking fast and eagerly against each other, with a sort of chorus from Bob, when, looking up, Cherry suddenly saw Alvar standing before them with a letter in his hand.

He was extremely pale, but his eyes blazed with such intensity of wrath, he came up to them with a gesture expressive of such passion, that they all started up; while he burst out, —

“I have to tell you that I am scorned, injured, insulted. My grandfather has died – ”

“Your grandfather, Don Guzman? Alvar, I am sorry,” exclaimed Cheriton; but Alvar interrupted him, —

“Sorrow insults me! I learn that he has made his will, that he leaves all to Manoel, that I– I, his grandson – am not fit to be his heir, ‘since I am a foreigner and a heretic, and unfit to be the owner of Spanish property.’”

“That seems very unjust,” said Cheriton, as Alvar paused for a moment.

“Unjust!” cried Alvar. “I am the victim of injustice. Here and there – it is the same thing. I have been silent – yes, yes – but I will not bear it. I will be what I please, myself – there, here, everywhere!”

“Nay, Alvar,” said Cherry gently; “here at least, you have met with no injustice.”

“And why?” cried Alvar, with the sudden abandonment of passion which now and then broke through his composure. “You are doubtless too honourable to plot and scheme; but your thoughts and your wishes, are they not the same – the same as this most false and unnatural traitor, who has stolen from me my inheritance and my grandfather’s love? What do you wish, my brothers – wish in your hearts – would happen to the intruder, the stranger, who takes your lands from you? Would you not see me dead at your feet?”

“We never wished you were dead,” said Bob indignantly, as Alvar walked about the room, threw out his hands with vehement gestures, stamped his foot, and gave way to a violence of expression that would have seemed ludicrous to his brothers but for the fury of passion, which evidently grew with every moment, as if the injury of years was finding vent. All the strong temper of his father seemed roused and expressed with a rush of vindictive passion, his southern blood and training depriving him at once of self-consciousness and self-control.

“What matter what you wish? Am I not condemned to a life which I abhor, to a place that is hateful to me, despised by one whose feet I would kiss, disliked by you all, insulted by those who should be my slaves? What is this country to me, or I to it? I care not for your laws, your magistrates, your people – who hate me, who would shoot me if they dared. And this – this – has lost me the place where I was as good as others. I lose my home for this – for you who stand together and wonder at me. I curse that villain who has robbed me; I curse the fate that has made me doubly an outlaw; most of all, I curse my father, whose neglect – ”

“Silence!” said Cheriton; “you do not speak such words in our presence.”

The flood of Alvar’s words, half Spanish, half English, had fairly silenced the three brothers with amazement. Now he faced round furiously on Cheriton, —

“I will speak – ”

“You will not,” said Cheriton, grasping his hand, and looking full in his face. “You forget yourself, Alvar. Don’t say what we could never forget or forgive.”

But Alvar flung him off with a violence and scorn that roused the two lads to fury, and made Cheriton’s own blood tingle as Jack sprang forward, —

“I won’t have that,” he said, in a tone as low as Alvar’s was high, but to the full as threatening.

“I’ll give you a licking if you touch my brother,” shouted Bob, with a rough, schoolboy enforcement of the threat.

“Hush!” said Cheriton; “for God’s sake, stop – all of you! We are not boys now, to threaten each other. Stop, while there is time. Stand back, I say, Jack, and be silent!”

The whole thing had passed in half a minute; Alvar’s own furious gesture had sobered him, and he threw himself into a seat; while Cheriton’s steady voice and look controlled the two lads, and gave Jack time to recollect himself.

There was a moment’s silence. Then Alvar stood up, bowed haughtily, like a duellist after the encounter, and walked out of the room. Jack, after a minute, broke into an odd, harsh laugh, and, pushing open the window, leant out of it.

“One wants air. That was a critical moment,” he said.

“I’ll not stand that sort of thing; I’ll go back to Ashrigg; I’ll not come here again,” said Bob. “What did you stop us for, Cherry, when we were going to show him a piece of our minds?”

“I did not think anybody’s mind was fit to be exhibited,” said Cheriton. “Don’t begin to quarrel with me too, Bob; and do not go away to-day on any account.”

“Well!” said Bob; “if you like such a hollow peace – but I’ll not shoot his partridges, nor ride his horses; I’ll go for a walk, and I shan’t come in to dinner!”

Bob flung out of the room, banging the door behind him.

At first the other two hardly spoke a word to each other. Cherry sat down a little apart, and mechanically took up a newspaper. Jack sat in the window, and as his heat subsided, thought over the scene that had passed. He felt that it was more than a foolish outburst of violent temper; it had been a revelation to themselves and to each other of a state of feeling that it seemed to him impossible any longer to ignore. He knew that Cheriton’s presence of mind had saved them from words and actions that might have parted them for ever; but what was the use of pretending to get on with Alvar after such a deadly breach? Better leave him to do the best he could in his own way, and go theirs. And Jack’s thoughts turned to his own way in the future that he hoped for, success and congenial labour, and sweet love to brighten it. After all, a man’s early home was not everything to him. And then he looked towards Cheriton, who had dropped his newspaper, and sat looking dreamily before him, with a sad look of disappointment on his face.

“What are you going to do, Cherry?” said Jack.

“Do? Nothing. What can I do?” said Cherry. Then he added, “We must not make too much of what passed to-day; let us all try and forget it. Alvar has been ill-treated, and we are none of us so gentle as not to know what a little additional Spanish fire might make of us.”

“To be rough with you!” said Jack.

“Oh, that was accidental. It is the terrible resentment. There, I did not mean to speak of it. Let us get out into the air, and shake it off.”

“It is too wet and cold for you,” said Jack, looking out.

Cheriton flushed at the little check with an impatience that showed how hardly the scene had borne on him.

“Nonsense; don’t be fanciful,” he said. “It won’t hurt me – what if it did?”

Jack followed him in silence, and as they walked Cherry talked resolutely of other matters, though with long pauses of silence between.

In the meantime Alvar endured an agony of self-disgust. He could not forgive himself for his loss of dignity, nor his brothers for having witnessed it. Cheriton had conquered him, and the thought rankled so as to obscure even the love he bore him; while all the bitter and vindictive feelings, never recognised as sinful, took possession of him, and held undisputed sway. He was enough of an Englishman to reject his first impulse of rushing back to Seville and calling out his cousin and fighting him. After all, the bitterness was here; and at dinner-time he appeared silent and sullen in manner. Cheriton looked ill and tired, and could hardly eat; but Alvar offered no remark on it, and the younger boys (for Bob did come back) were shy and embarrassed. Alvar answered when Cheriton addressed him with a sort of stiff politeness, and by the next morning had resumed a more ordinary demeanour; but when Bob again suggested going back to Ashrigg, Cheriton and Jack agreed that he had better do so, only charging him not to let Nettie or their grandmother guess at any quarrel.

“And, Cherry,” Jack said, “suppose we come somewhere together for a little while? A little sea air would do you good – and you could help me with my reading. No one could think it strange, and I am sure you want rest and quiet.”

“No, Jack,” said Cherry. “It is very good of you, my boy, but – I’ll try a little longer. Alvar and I could not come together again if I went away now, and I’ll not give up hoping that after all things may right themselves. Think of all he has been to me. But you must do as you think best yourself.”

“I shall not leave you here without me,” said Jack; “but I don’t see the use of staying.”

“Well – I shall stay,” said Cherry.

Alvar never alluded again to his letter from Spain; and the others were afraid to start the subject. He was very polite to them, and together they formed engagements, went over to Ashrigg, and led their lives in the usual manner; but there was no real approach, and Cheriton missed Alvar’s caressing tenderness, and the tact that had always been exercised on his behalf.

He did not, with all this worry, find as much strength to face the coming winter as he had hoped for, and while he thought that going back to London would put an end to the present discomfort, he believed that he would do no good there; and would not a parting from Alvar now be a real separation?

Alvar, meanwhile, took a fit of attending to business. He spent much time about the place, insisted on being consulted on all subjects, and still more on being instantly obeyed; King Log had vanished, and a very peremptory king Stork appeared in his place. The gentle, courteous, indifferent Alvar seemed possessed with a captious and resentful spirit that brooked no opposition. No one had ever dared to disobey Mr Lester’s orders; but then they had been given with a due regard to possibility, and often after consultation with those by whom they were to be obeyed.

Alvar now proved himself to be equally determined; but he was often ignorant of what was reasonable and of what was not, and though the sturdy north-countrymen had given in against their inclination to their superior, they thought it very hard to be driven against their judgment when they were right and “t’ strange squire” was wrong, or at least innovating. Now Alvar did know something about horses, and his views of stable management differed somewhat from those prevailing at Oakby, and being based on the experience of a different climate and different conditions, were not always applicable there, and could only of course be carried, as it were, at the sword’s point.

Full of this new and intense desire to feel himself master, and to prove himself so, Alvar not unnaturally concentrated his efforts on the one subject where he had something to say. He could not lay down the law about turnips and wheat; but he did think that he knew best how to treat the injuries the young horse had received by his own mistaken order.

Perhaps he did; but so did not think old Bill Fisher, who had been about the stables ever since he was twelve, and who, though past much active work, still considered himself an authority from which there was no appeal.

Alvar visited the horse, and desired a certain remedy to be applied to a sprained shoulder, taking some trouble to explain how it was to be made.

Old Bill listened in an evil silence, and instead of saying that so far as he knew one of the ingredients was unattainable at Oakby, or giving his master an alternative, said nothing at all in reply to Alvar’s imperious – “Remember, this must be done at once;” but happening soon after to encounter Cheriton, requested him to visit the horse, and desired his opinion of the proper treatment.

Cheriton, ignorant of what had passed, naturally quoted the approved remedy at Oakby, adding, —

“Why, Bill, I should have thought you would have known that for yourself.”

“Ay, no one ever heard tell of no other,” muttered the old man, proceeding to apply it with some grumbling about strangers, which Cheriton afterwards bitterly rued having turned a deaf ear to.

The next morning Alvar went to see if his plans had been carried out, and discovering how his orders had been disregarded, turned round, and said sternly, —

“How have you dared to disobey me?”

“Eh, sir,” said Bill, rather appalled at his master’s face, “this stuffs cured our horses these fifty year.”

“You have disobeyed me,” said Alvar, “and I will not suffer it. I dismiss you from my service – you may go. I will not forgive you.”

Old Bill lifted up his bent figure, and stared at his master in utter amaze.

“I served your honour’s grandfather – me and mine,” he said.

“You cannot obey me. What are your wages? I will pay them – you may go.” Neither the old man himself, nor the helpers who had begun to gather round, belonged to a race of violent words, or indeed of violent deeds; but there was more hate in the faces that were turned on Alvar than would have winged many an Irish bullet. All were silent, till a little brother of Cherry’s friends, the Flemings, called out, saucily enough, – “’Twas Mr Cherry’s orders.”

As if stung beyond endurance, Alvar turned, caught the boy by the shoulder, and raising his cane, struck him once, twice, several times, with a violence of which he himself was hardly conscious.

This was the scene that met Cheriton’s startled eyes as he came up to the stable to inquire for the sick horse.

He uttered a loud exclamation of astonishment and dismay, and put his hand on Alvar’s shoulder.

Alvar, with a final blow, threw the lad away from him, and faced round on Cheriton, drew himself up, and folded his arms, as he said, regardless of the spectators, —

“I will not have it that you interfere with me, to alter my orders, or to stop me in what I do. You shall not do it.”

“I have never interfered with you!” cried Cheriton fiercely. “Assuredly I never will. I – I – ” He checked himself with a strong effort, and said, very low, “We are forgetting ourselves by disputing here. If you have anything to say to me, it can be said at a better moment.”

Then, without trusting himself with a word or look, he walked slowly away.

Alvar said emphatically, —

“Remember, I have said what I desire,” and turned off in another direction; while those left behind held such an “indignation meeting” as Oakby had never seen.

Chapter Seven.

No Use

“Learn that each duty makes its claim     Upon one soul, not each on all;How if God speaks thy brother’s name,     Dare thou make answer to the call?”

Cheriton had encountered greater sorrows, he had met with more startling disappointments, but never, perhaps, had he endured such a complication of feeling as when he turned away and left Alvar in the stable yard. Perhaps he had never been so angry, for Alvar’s accusation was peculiarly galling, peculiarly hard to forgive, and impossible to forget. And then there was the bitter sense of utter failure – failure of influence, of tact, of affection, and, in so far as he identified himself with the place and the people, there was yet a deeper sense of injury. Every old prejudice, every old distaste, surged up in his mind, and yet he loved Alvar well enough to sharpen the sting. He walked on faster and faster, till want of breath stopped him, and brought on one of the fits of coughing to which overhaste or agitation always rendered him liable. He just managed to get back to the house and into the library, where Jack started up, as he threw himself into a chair.

“Cherry, what is the matter?”

Cherry could not speak for a moment; and Jack, much frightened, exclaimed, —

“What have you been doing? Let me call Alvar.”

Cheriton caught his arm as he turned away; and, after a few moments, as he began to get his breath, —

“Don’t be frightened. I walked too fast up hill.”

“How could you be so foolish?”

“Jack, I suppose I must tell you; indeed, I want to find out the rights of it; and I can ask no questions,” he added, with a sudden hurry in his accent.

“What do you mean? What has happened?”

The instinct of not irritating Jack enabled Cheriton to control his own indignation, and he said very quietly, —

“When I went up to the stable I found Alvar giving little Chris Fleming a tremendous licking. He was very much vexed with me for – I suppose for trying to interpose; but there were so many people about that we could not discuss it there. I wish you would go and ask old Bill what Chris had been doing, then come and tell me. Don’t say anything to Alvar about it.”

Jack was keen enough to see that this was not quite an adequate account of the matter. He saw that Cheriton was deeply moved in some way; but he was so unfit for discussion just then, that Jack thought the best course was to hurry off on his errand.

He came back in about half-an-hour, looking very serious – too much so to be ready to improve the occasion.

“Alvar has given old Bill warning – do you know that?”

“No. What was that for?” cried Cheriton, starting up.

“He would not speak a word to me, and Chris had gone off to his brother’s; but John Symonds told me what had passed.” Here Jack repeated the story of the ointment, old Bill’s disobedience, and Chris’s declaration that it had been done by Cheriton’s orders.

Cheriton’s face cleared a little.

“Ah, I understand now. No wonder Alvar was vexed! I can explain that easily. But old Bill, it was very unjustifiable; but if Alvar will not overlook it I do believe it will kill him.”

“I don’t see what he would have to live on,” said Jack. “You know that bad son spent his savings. But Alvar will let him off if you ask him, I daresay.”

“I think you had better do so,” said Cheriton quietly.

At this moment Alvar came into the room, and Cheriton addressed him at once.

“Alvar, when old Bill asked me about the ointment, I did not know that you had been giving any orders about it. I am very sorry for the mistake.”

“It is not of consequence,” said Alvar. “Do not trouble yourself about it.”

The words were kind, but the tone was less so; and there was something in Alvar’s manner which made it difficult even for Jack to say, – “I’m afraid old Bill Fisher was provoking. He should have told you that he could not get the stuff; but he is such an old servant, and so faithful. I hope you won’t dismiss him for it. He seems to belong to us altogether.”

“I shall not change,” said Alvar.

“But it’s an extremely harsh measure, and will make every one about the place detest you,” said Jack, still considering himself to be speaking with praiseworthy moderation.

“I will judge myself of the measure.” Then Cherry conquered his pride, and said pleadingly, —

“I wish it very much.”

“I am sorry to grieve you,” said Alvar, more gently; “but I have determined.”

“Well,” said Jack, losing patience, “we spoke as much for your sake as for Bill’s. Every one will consider it harsh dealing and a great shame. You’ll make them hate you.”

“I will make them fear me,” said Alvar.

“Claptrap and nonsense!” said Jack; but Cheriton interposed, —

“Hush, Jack, we have no right to say any more. What must be must.”

To do Alvar justice, he was not aware how deeply he was grieving Cheriton; he felt himself to be asserting his rights, and in the worst corner of his heart knew that any relenting would be ascribed to his brother’s influence.

It was a very miserable day. After some hours of astonished sulking, the poor old groom put his pride in his pocket, and came humbly “to beg t’ squire’s pardon,” and to entreat Cheriton to intercede for him, recapitulating his years of long service, and his recollections of the old squire’s boyhood, till he nearly broke Cherry’s heart; and induced him to promise to make another attempt at interceding – a promise which was not given without quite as severe a rebuke as Alvar had ever inflicted, for disrespect to his master’s orders.

He was closely followed by the eldest of the Fleming brothers, in great indignation.

Nowhere but at Oakby, as the young man took care to observe, would Chris have been allowed to take such a situation, in spite of his love of horses, and troublesomeness at home.

“Chris was impertinent to Mr Lester,” said Cheriton, hardly knowing what line to take.