Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume One

Aunt Matty’s lips parted, but no words came; and to calm her ruffled feelings she took a little dog – in strokes.

“Your daughter is right,” said Trevor, “I do love horses; and,” he said, laughing at Fin, “I do try to ride them.”

“I hope you’ll look at the girls’ horses, then, Mr Trevor,” said Lady Rea. “As you understand them, you’d be able to tell whether they are safe. I don’t half like the idea of the girls mounting such wild beasts as horses often are. As for me, I wouldn’t ride on one for the world.”

The idea of plump little Lady Rea in a riding-habit, mounted on a horse, like a long-draped pincushion, was too much. Tiny coloured. Aunt Matty looked horrified. Trevor grew hot and bit his lip, caught Fin’s eye, and then that young lady, who had held her handkerchief to her mouth, burst out laughing.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Lady Rea, good-humouredly. “What have I said now? – something very stupid, I’m sure. But you must not mind me, Mr Trevor, for I do make such foolish mistakes.”

Miss Matilda took hold of the two sides of the light shawl thrown over her angular shoulders, and gave it a sawing motion to work it higher up towards her neck, a shuddering sensation, like that caused by a cold current of air, having evidently attacked her spine.

“I think it was a foolish mistake, Fanny,” she said, in a voice acid enough to corrode any person’s temper, “to doubt Sir Hampton’s Judgment with respect to the horses he would choose for his daughters’ use.”

Fin began to bristle on the instant; her bright eyes flashed, and the laughing dimples fled as if in dismay, as she threw down her challenge to her aunt.

“Why, aunt,” said the girl, quickly, “one of the grooms said pa didn’t hardly know a horse’s head from its tail.”

“Oh, Fin, my dear!” cried mamma.

“Which of the grooms made use of that insolent remark?” cried Aunt Matty. “If I have any influence with your papa, that man will be discharged on the instant.”

“I think it was Thomas, aunt, who makes so much fuss over Pepine,” said Fin, maliciously.

“I’m quite sure that Thomas is too respectable and well-conducted a servant to say such a thing,” said Aunt Matty. “It was my doing that your papa engaged him; for he came with a letter of introduction from the Reverend Caius Carney, who spoke very highly indeed of his honesty and pious ways.”

“Oh, aunty,” cried Fin, “and he swears like a trooper!”

Aunt Matilda went into a semi-cataleptic state, so rigid did she grow; and her hand, with which she was taking a little more dog by friction, closed so sharply on the scruff of the little terrier’s neck, that it yelped aloud.

“You mustn’t say so, my dear, if he does,” said Lady Rea, rather sadly.

And to turn the conversation, Trevor asked her if she liked flowers.

“Oh yes, Mr Trevor,” she exclaimed, beaming once more. “And you’ve got some lovely gladioluses – li – oli,” she added, correcting herself, and glancing from one to the other like a tutored child, “in your grounds, of a colour we can’t get. May I beg a few?”

“The gardener shall send in as many as you wish for, Lady Rea – anything in my place is at your service.”

Poor Tiny! His eager, earnest words began to wake up such a curious little tremor in her breast. It was all so new – so strange. Now she told herself she was foolish, childish, and that she was giving way to silly, romantic fancies; only Fin was evidently thinking something too, and gave her all sorts of malicious looks. As for Aunt Matty, she sat now with her eyes closed, sucking a mental lozenge about patience; and Fin’s championship was in abeyance for the rest of the visit – the conversation being principally between Lady Rea and their visitor.

“It’s very kind of you to say so, I’m sure,” said Lady Rea. “We saw them, you know, when we went over your place, once or twice, for Mrs Lloyd was good enough to say we might. And a very beautiful place it is.”

“It’s a dear old home, Lady Rea, indeed,” said Trevor, enthusiastically.

“Though you must have found it very sad,” said Lady Rea.

“No,” said Trevor, frankly; “it would be mockery in me to say so. My parents died when I was so very young, that I never could feel their loss: I hardly knew what it was to have any one to love.”

“Let him look at her now, if he dare,” thought Fin, with her eyes sparkling.

But Trevor did not dare; he only gazed in Lady Rea’s pleasant face, and she made Aunt Matty shiver – firstly, by laying her hand in a soothing way upon the young man’s arm; secondly, by saying she would put herself under an obligation to this dreadful seafaring person, by accepting his offer of flowers; and thirdly, by the following terribly imprudent speech —

“I’m sure I don’t know where dear papa can be gone; but as he’s not here, Mr Trevor, you must let me say that whenever you feel dull and lonely, you must come up here and have a chat, and some music, or something of that sort. We shall always be delighted to see you.”

“Er-rum! Er-rum!” came from the garden.

“Oh! here’s papa!” cried Lady Rea. “I’m glad he’s come!”

“Er-rum!” came again, and then steps and voices were heard in the conservatory – voices which made Trevor rise and look annoyed.

The next moment Sir Hampton ushered two gentlemen into the drawing-room through the conservatory.

“Lady Rea – Tiny dear,” he said, loudly – “er-rum, let me make you known to my friends – Sir Felix Landells and Captain Vanleigh.”

Aunt Matty is Cross

Sir Hampton started as his eyes fell upon Trevor, and his pink complexion began to grow red.

“Oh, Fin!” whispered Tiny, heedless of the admiring gaze of Vanleigh, who now advanced; while after saluting Lady Rea, Landells turned to Fin.

“This is Mr Trevor, called to see us, dear,” said Lady Rea.

“Er-rum!” went Sir Hampton, and he bristled visibly; but Trevor approached with extended hand.

“Sir Hampton,” he said, “I came to apologise for my very hasty behaviour to you. I’m afraid I gave you a very bad opinion of your neighbour.”

“Er-rum! I – er? I – er-rum,” said and coughed Sir Hampton, hesitating; but there was the hand of amity stretched out, and he was obliged to take it – moving with great dignity, and looking at Trevor as if he had just pardoned a malefactor for committing some heinous crime.

“Didn’t ’spect to see; here,” said Sir Felix, making play with his glass at everybody in turn.

“The surprise is mutual,” said Trevor.

“Odd coincidence,” said Vanleigh, who had crossed now to Miss Matilda, like a good diplomatist. “We were walking, after you ran away from us, and met Sir Hampton.”

“Er-rum – Mr Trevor,” said Sir Hampton, pompously, “I am in your debt; your friends here were kind enough to give my daughters and myself the use of your carriage after a very – er-rum – narrow escape from a terrible – er-rum – catastrophe. I am very much obliged.”

“Don’t name it, Sir Hampton, pray,” said Trevor. “Out here in this place, we are all obliged to rely upon one another for a little help. I shall have to beg favours of you, some day, I hope.”

“Er-rum – you are very good,” said Sir Hampton, stiffly.

“Yes, Hampton, dear,” said Lady Rea, “Mr Trevor is really very kind: he has promised us a lot of those beautiful gladioli that you admired so when you went over Penreife grounds.”

Sir Hampton bowed to Trevor, and looked daggers at his wife, who glanced then at Fin, as much as to say – “What have I done now!”

“A particularly fine specimen, I should say,” Vanleigh was heard to remark. “Do you think so?” said Miss Matilda.

“I should say perfectly pure,” said Vanleigh, stooping to caress Pepine, who snarled and tried to bite.

“Fie, Pepine, then!” said Miss Matilda. “Don’t be afraid of him, Captain Vanleigh.”

“I am not,” said Vanleigh, showing his white teeth, and taking the terrier in his hands. “Look here, Landells, what should you say of this dog?”

Sir Felix fixed his glass, and crossed to his friend.

“’Markably fine terrier,” said Sir Felix, “most decidedly.”

And he touched Pepine, and was bitten spitefully on the glove.

“You remember the dog you sent to the Palace Show?”

“’Member perfectly,” said Sir Felix; “splen’ collection.”

“But did you see a finer bred specimen than that – say frankly?”

“Nothing like it; ’fectly sure of it.”

“There, Miss Rea,” said Vanleigh, “and Landells is one of the finest amateur judges of dogs in the country.”

“Is he really?” said Miss Matilda, smiling.

“Oh yes,” said Vanleigh. “What should you think that dog was worth, Landells?”

“Any money,” said Sir Felix; “five at least.”

“But I gave ten pounds for it,” said Miss Matilda, indignantly.

“Exactly,” said Vanleigh. “Then you obtained it at a great bargain.”

“But he said five pounds,” said Miss Matilda.

“Exactly, my dear madam,” said Vanleigh. “That is the judge’s fashion – five pounds a paw; twenty pounds.”

“Oh, I see!” said Miss Matilda, and Trevor turned aside, for he had encountered Fin’s laughing eyes, and her pinched-up mouth had said dumbly —

“My! What a fib!”

After a little more conversation, the trio took their leave, and there was peace between the dwellers at Penreife and Tolcarne for many days to come.

“Er-rum,” said Sir Hampton, as soon as they were alone. “I am not very agreeably impressed with this Mr Trevor.”

“Aren’t you, dear?” said Lady Rea; “and I thought him such a nice, gentlemanly, frank fellow, and so did the girls.”

“Sadly wanting in manners,” said Aunt Matty. “Quite as you said, Hampton – rough and uncultivated.”

Sir Hampton nodded his head approvingly.

“But he don’t call out ‘avast!’ and ‘Ship ahoy!’ and ‘Haul in slack,’ as you said he would, aunty,” said Fin.

“Finetta, I never made use of any such language,” said Miss Matilda.

“Then it must have been I,” said Fin. “I know somebody said so.”

“Most gentlemanly men the friends you introduced, Hampton – especially Captain Vanleigh.”

“And the dog-fancier with the glass,” put in Fin, in an undertone; but her aunt heard her.

“Hampton,” she said, viciously, “I am unwilling to make complaints, but I am sorry to say that the treatment I receive from Finetta is anything but becoming. Several times this afternoon her remarks to me have been such as when I was a little girl I should never have thought of using, and I should have been severely reprimanded if I had said a tithe.”

“Why, I thought tithes were parsons’ payments, aunty,” said Fin, merrily; and Aunt Matty stopped short, Lady Rea turned away to smile, and Sir Hampton actually chuckled.

Miss Matilda gathered up her skirts, and taking Pepine under her arm, was marching out of the room.

“Please, aunt, I’m very sorry,” said Fin. “I’m afraid I’m a very naughty little girl, and shall have to be punished – Papa, can I have any dinner?”

“Er-rum. Matilda,” said Sir Hampton, “I am going on the lawn. Will you come?”

Aunt Matty was mollified, and took his arm.

“You shouldn’t, Fin, indeed,” said Tiny.

“My darling, I must beg of you not,” said Lady Rea, piteously.

“Then she shan’t snub my darling, dear mamma,” said Fin, kissing her. “I’m never saucy to Aunt Matty only when she says rude things to you; treating me like a child, too! Oh, mamma, if you ever find me growing into a sour old maid, pray poison me with something hidden in a spoonful of currant jam.”

Proposals

“If you wish it, Hampton, of course have it; but I think the money that it will cost might very well be given to some missionary fund,” said Miss Matilda.

“Er-rum! When I want your advice, Matty, I shall ask it,” said Sir Hampton. “I must keep up my dignity in the county.”

“You could do it in no better way, Hampton, than by subscribing to the South Sea Islander Society – ‘Sir Hampton Rea, twenty guineas,’ in the county paper, would add more to your dignity than giving a dinner party.”

This was at breakfast, and Fin cast malicious glances at her sister, who was blushing, and bending over her plate.

“Fanny! – er-rum!” continued Sir Hampton, not seeming to notice his sister, “we’ll say Friday. You will send invitations to – er-rum – let me see!”

“Stop a minute, Hampy dear,” cried her ladyship, making a scuffle to get at something. “There – oh! now, how tiresome – that cream jug always gets in the way. Thank you, Fin, my dear; take it up with a spoon – it isn’t hurt.”

“Oh, ma dear,” cried Fin, “the cream will taste of hot washerwoman and mangles. You can’t use it now.”

“Oh, I’ll drink it, my dear – oh!” she added, in a low voice, “Aunt Matty will think it such waste.”

“Are you ready, Fanny?” said Sir Hampton, rolling his head in his stiff cravat.

“One moment, Hampy,” said her ladyship, getting her pencil and tablets. “My memory is so bad now, I must put them down.”

“Then – er-rum – first we’ll say – ”

“Oh, one moment, Hampy; this tiresome pencil’s got no point again.”

“Take mine, ma dear,” said Fin.

“Thank you, my love. Now, pa.”

“Er-rum,” said Sir Hampton – “first, then, we’ll have er – er – Sir Felix Landells.”

Aunt Matty bowed her head approvingly.

“E, double L, S,” said Lady Rea, writing. “Don’t shake me, Fin, there’s a dear.”

For Lady Rea had come undone at the back of her dress, and Fin was busy with a pin at her collar.

“Er-rum!” continued Sir Hampton. “Next we’ll have Captain Vanleigh.”

And he looked hard at Tiny, who bent lower over her plate.

“Van, I – tut-tut-tut, how do you spell leigh, e first or i first?” said Lady Rea.

“Shall I write them down for you, Fanny?” said Aunt Matty.

“No, thank you, Matty,” said Lady Rea, who was getting into a knot. “There, I shall know what that means.”

“Er-rum!” said Sir Hampton; “Mr Mervyn.”

“La! Hampy,” cried Lady Rea, looking up, “you haven’t said Mr Trevor.”

“Mister – er-rum – Mervyn!” exclaimed Sir Hampton, sharply.

“Oh, there, my dear, don’t fly at me like that,” cried Lady Rea. “M, e, r, v, i – ”

“Y, Fanny, y,” said Aunt Matty, with a shudder.

“Oh yes, y, of course,” said Lady Rea, good-humouredly; “y, n, Mervyn. Next?”

The girls bent their heads – Tiny over her breakfast, Fin smoothing the rather tousled hair of her mother.

“Er-rum, I suppose I must ask this – er-rum – Trevor.”

“Surely, Hampton,” exclaimed Aunt Matty, “you will not think of inviting that objectionable person.”

Fin glanced at her sister, whose face was crimson, and Lady Rea looked pained. “Matty, my dear, I think you are wrong. I…”

“Have you got that name down, Lady Rea?” said Sir Hampton.

“No, dear; but I soon will have,” said her ladyship, making her pencil scramble over the tablet.

“Er-rum!” ejaculated Sir Hampton, rising, puffing himself out, and walking slowly up and down the room; “a man in my position is obliged to make sacrifices, and ask people to whom he objects. In the event of my contesting the county such a man as this – er-rum – this – er-rum – Trevor would be useful I thank you, Matty; you mean, er – mean – rum, well. Put his name down, Fanny.”

“I have, my love,” said Lady Rea, beaming at her children.

“Hampton, I protest against this outrage,” cried Aunt Matty, “after the marked way in which he has – ”

“Tiny, come and cut some flowers,” said Fin; and her sister gladly beat a retreat, Fin whispering as they went – “Will he ask the little man?”

“Now, Matty,” said Sir Hampton, “have the goodness to proceed; and in future, when you enter upon such subjects, have the kindness to – er-rum – remember that I am not deaf.”

“I say, Hampton, after the marked way in which that ‘seafaring person’ has behaved to Valentina, it is most indiscreet to ask him here.”

“Oh, Matty,” cried Lady Rea, “I’m sure that young man is as nice as can be.”

“If that was what you intended to say, Matilda – er-rum – it would have been most indecent before those children,” said Sir Hampton, pompously.

“In – ”

Aunt Matty could not say it, the word was too outrageous.

“I feel bound – er-rum – bound,” said Sir Hampton, with emphasis, “to ask the young man, as a proprietor, even as we might ask a tenant, Fanny.”

“Yes, my love.”

“Put down that lawyer as well, Mr – er, er – Mr – ” he got the name out with great disgust at last, “Pratt,” and carefully wiped his mouth afterwards.

“You’ll be sorry for this, Hampton,” said Miss Matilda, shaking with virtuous indignation, so that some frozen dewdrops in her head-dress quivered again, and Pepine, who had been surreptitiously nursed under a canopy of table-cloth, received, in her excitement, such a heavy nip from his mistress’s knees, that he uttered an awful howl.

“Er-rum – sorry?”

“Yes, sorry. That objectionable person is always hanging about the house like – like – like a vagrant; and those girls never go for a walk without being accosted by him or his companion. If you have any eyes, you ought to see.”

“Oh, Matty, pray don’t,” said Lady Rea, appealingly.

“Er-rum! Silence, Fanny,” said Sir Hampton. “And as for your remarks, Matilda, they are uncalled for. My children would not, I am sure, encourage the – er-rum – advances of that person; and Lady Rea would be one of the first to crush any – er-rum – thing of the kind.”

“Indeed!” said Aunt Matty, spitefully. “That – er-rum – will do,” said Sir Hampton. “Fanny, those will be our guests. See that the dinner is worthy of our position.”

He went out like a stout, elderly emperor of florid habit, and, as soon after as was possible, Lady Rea beat a retreat, leaving Aunt Matty taking dog, after her habit, in strokes with one hand, holding a pocket handkerchief cake in the other; “and looking,” Edward the footman, said in the kitchen, after removing the breakfast things, “like a bilious image getting ready for a fit.”

Sir Hampton’s study was horticulture that morning; and, after swallowing a page on the manipulation of the roots of espaliers and pyramid trees, he was about to go out and attack Sanders, the gardener, when Edward announced Sir Felix Landells and Captain Vanleigh on business, and they were shown in.

“Really – hope not deranging – untimely call,” said Sir Felix.

“We will not detain you long, Sir Hampton,” said Vanleigh, with a great show of deference.

“Er-rum, gentlemen,” said Sir Hampton, whose face shone with pride, “in these rural – er-rum – districts, when one is – er-rum – far from society and town, sociability and hospitality should, er – ”

“Go hand in hand – exactly,” said Vanleigh, smiling.

“Er-rum, I am very glad to see you, gentlemen,” said Sir Hampton. “Oddly – er-rum – oddly enough, we were discussing a little dinner for Friday. Could you – er-rum – both, both – er – honour us with your company?”

And he looked from one to the other.

“Well,” said Vanleigh, hesitating, and glancing at Sir Felix, “it depends somewhat on – Would you like to speak out, Landells?”

“’Sure you, no. Do it so much better. Pray go on.”

And the young man turned crimson.

“Not pre-engaged, I hope?” said Sir Hampton.

“Well, Sir Hampton,” said Vanleigh, modestly, after a pause, during which he sat with his eyes on the carpet, “this is all so new to me, and you have confused me so with your kind invitation, that my business – our business – comes doubly hard to us to state.”

“Er-rum – pray go on,” said Sir Hampton, smiling condescendingly, for all this was sweet to his soul; two scions of aristocratic houses with sense enough to respect his position in life. Captain Vanleigh might have borrowed a hundred pounds on the instant had he liked; but he was playing for higher stakes.

“Then, if you won’t speak, Landells, I must,” said Vanleigh, who seemed overcome with confusion. “No doubt there is a proper etiquette to be observed in such cases, but I confess I am too agitated to recall it, and I merely appeal to you, Sir Hampton, as a gentleman and a parent.”

Sir Hampton bowed, and uttered a cough that seemed wrapped up in cotton wool, it was so soft.

“The fact is, Sir Hampton, we have been here now three weeks – Landells and I – and we have been so charmed, so taken with your sweet daughters, that, in this hurried, confused way – I tell you, in short, we thought it right, as gentlemen, to come first and tell you, to ask you for your permission to visit more frequently, to be more in their society – to, in short, make formal proposals for their hands.”

There was another soft cough, and Vanleigh continued —

“I hope I am forgiven, Landells, for my awkward way?”

“Yes. Pray go on; capital,” said Landells, who was perspiring profusely.

“It is only fair to say how we are placed in the world, Sir Hampton. My friend there, Sir Felix, has his eight thousand per annum; and it will increase. For myself, I am but a poor officer of the Guards.”

“Er-rum! a gentleman is never poor,” said Sir Hampton, with dignity.

“I think I can say no more, Sir Hampton,” said Vanleigh, bowing to the compliment. “You see now my hesitation about the dinner; for, of course, if you refuse to regard our application favourably, to-morrow we should – eh, Landells?”

“Back – town – certainly,” said Sir Felix, wiping his face.

“Er-rum!” said Sir Hampton, rising, and placing a hand in his breast. “Gentlemen, you take me by surprise, and you ask a great deal in – er-rum – I say you ask a great deal – I, er-rum, I – honoured by your – er-rum – proposals – and – and – er-rum, if I express myself badly, it is a father’s emotion. In short, I – er-rum – gentlemen – I, er-rum, give both my full consent to visit here as often as you wish, and Lady Rea and my daughters shall be acquainted with your proposals. I can, er-rum, say no more now. Let us join the ladies.”

Sir Felix, with tears in his eyes, took and wrung the old man’s hand, and, as the friends followed him out, Vanleigh bestowed upon the young baronet a most solemn, but very vulgar, wink.

An Interview with Barney Sturt

“Couldn’t you make it a four-wheeler, Sam,” said Mrs Jenkles, one evening, “and take me up and bring us all back together?”

“Now, lookye here, old lady,” said Sam, “I don’t want to be hard, nor I don’t want to be soft, but what I says is this here – Where’s it going to end?”

“What do you mean, Sam?” exclaimed Mrs Jenkles.

“What I says, my dear – Where’s it going to end? You’ve got over me about the money, and you’ve got over me about the lodgings. You’re allus going to Mrs Lane to tea, as I knows they don’t find; and now you wants me to give up my ’ansom, borrer a four-wheeler, and lose ’bout a pound as I should make in fares; and what I says is – Where’s it going to end?”

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” said Mrs Jenkles, “when did you ever go out with your cab for about a couple of hours and make a pound?”

Sam stood rubbing his nose, and there was a droll twinkle in his eye as he replied —

“Well, I might make a pound, you know.”

“Now don’t talk stuff, Sam, but go to the yard and change your cab, take me up there, and bring us all back comfortable.”

“You’re argoing it, you are, missus,” said Sam. “That’s the way – order your kerridge. ‘Sam,’ says you, ‘the kerridge at six.’ ‘Yes, mum,’ says I. ‘Oppery or dinner party?’ ‘Only to make a hevening call, Sam,’ says you. ‘Werry good, mum,’ says I.”

“If you want me to go up there by myself, Sam, and fetch them, I’ll go, and we can get back somehow by the ’bus; but I thought you’d like to come up and see that those ladies and your wife weren’t insulted.”

“I should jest like to catch anybody at it, that’s all,” said Sam, sharply.

“I didn’t mean to say anything, Sam,” continued Mrs Jenkles; “for I thought if we’d got such a man as you with us, no one would dare to interfere.”

“Now, look here,” said Sam, “I never did come across such an old snail as you are, missus; I like the allus being at home part of it, but it’s the hiding as I don’t like. Now, look here, I never does nothing without coming and telling you all about it; and as for you, why, you’ve allus got something in the way for me to find out.”

“What’s the use of me bothering you with trifles, Sam, when you’ve got plenty of troubles on your mind? I would tell you if it was anything you need know.”

“Well, come now, what’s it all mean bout Miss Lane?” said Sam.

“Only, dear, that since those people have found that Mrs Lane meant to leave, they’ve turned very strange, and the poor child’s quite frightened and timid like.”