Kit and Kitty: A Story of West Middlesex

“In the name of the Devil – ” He could get no further; for the eyes of this monster, and the strange formation under the cloth, where his face should have been, declared that he was laughing.

“You have learned to swear. Valedon – very good” – the voice sounded dead through the mufflings, and the accent was not like an Englishman’s – “chip of the old block. I was famous for that, at your age, young man.”

“What do you know of my age? Who are you? What are you? What brings you here at this time of night? What do you want me to do for you?”

Even Downy Bulwrag was hurried and confused, and lost his resources in the presence of this man; and a fearful idea made his blood run cold.

“Ha, he knows me not. He is not a wise son” – the stranger still kept his red eyes on him – “where is the voice of nature, that I am compelled to introduce myself?”

“Speak out. Do you mean to stop here all night? Don’t cover your face up, like a thief. In the name of God, who are you?”

The stranger slowly uncovered his face, sliding the bandage from his cheek-bones downward, with a clumsy movement of his bagged hands; then he rose to his full height and stood before the gas, and looking no longer at Bulwrag, waited to be looked at by him. His face was transformed into that of a lion.

“You must go to a hospital. Don’t come near me. Pull it up again, for God’s sake.”

“It is God who has done it, if there is a God. And why should a man be ashamed of it? Embrace your father – as the Frenchmen say – in a few years you will be like him.”

“Don’t come near me, I tell you again. I have a revolver in this drawer; none of your pop-guns, but a heavy bullet. I don’t want to hurt you, if you will only go away.”

“My son, I do not intend to go away. It grieves me to hear you speak of it. Surely you never would cast off your father, for such a sweet trifle as leprosy.”

Bulwrag began to recover himself, which was more than most men of his years would have done. Nature had not endowed him with the largest head in London, without putting something inside it. His sitting-room was small and plainly furnished, but having been used by convivial men, it possessed a long table (now set against the wall) which would slide out to still greater length with levers. He drew this across the room, extended it, and closed the gap at the end with the one in common use. Then he threw up the window at his side of the room, after fastening back the curtains, and requested his visitor to throw up the other; for the house was a corner one, and the room had “cross-lights.”

“Couldn’t do it, my son. Would you like to see my hands? No? Very well, you must take them upon trust. I have three fingers left, but the spot is upon them. However, you are a brave fellow, so far, though infected with popular ignorance. Nine out of ten would have rushed away, shouting ‘Murder!’ But you may put away your shooting-irons, as the Yankees call them. A hole in my body does more good than harm, under the circumstances. Once for all, my complaint is not contagious, or at any rate not among well-fed people; and you are well-fed, if ever anybody was. Give me a cigar; you will do that gladly for your own interest, I dare say. I can smoke it with my bandage on. Now a glass of good brandy – no water with it. You may break the glass afterwards, if you think proper, as the fools did on board the Simon Pure; but never in the Archytas. Ah, that was a ship of science!”

“The Archytas? Do you mean to say you have been in her?”

“Without her and her glorious captain, my son, you would never have seen your beloved parent. And more than that, if there had not been a beautiful young lady on board that ship, I should never have been here. Ah, you may well be surprised to see me. If ever any man has been knocked about – seventeen wounds I could count, till this affair took five away. And one of them laid me five years by the heels, laid me under ground, it was said everywhere. I suppose you heard that I was dead.”

“Yes, and on very good authority too. But I was too young to know much about it. Do you know what has happened in the family?”

“Ah, the Spaniards are the men for proverbs. ‘Believe no man dead till he comes and proves it.’ But women can always believe what they wish. Curse the woman, she has caused all my troubles. But wait a little longer.”

The deep thick voice, and the glare of his father’s eyes, made Downy tremble. “Surely you will not – in this condition – you will go to a hospital and get cured – you will leave the management of things to me.”

“Will I? No doctor in the world can cure me, or lengthen the months of my rotting away. And I got it by goodness, I took it by goodness. If I had stuck to my nature, I should have been sound. No more goodness for me in this world, and none in the next. Can a leper go to heaven?”

For a while they sat silent, the old man puffing his smoke through his muffler, and lifting the glass between his great wrists every now and then; the young man absorbed in this awful puzzle, with his vast head drooping on his breast. It had never even crossed his mind to ask whether this man might be an impostor. He felt that every word was true; and now what possible course remained for him? At length his father spoke again.

“Come, cheer up, my hearty, as the sailors said to me, though they took care to say it a long way off. You don’t seem delighted to have found a father, and a man of such renown and rank. Why, I am the Marquis of Torobelle, and you are the heir to the title. Lord Roarmore doesn’t sound much after that. But alas, I have nothing to keep up the title, and I dropped it among the Indians. I shall have to trouble you a little in that way; one cannot live on glory. Oh, but they treated me infamously, when I could do no more for them. They drove me across the Rio Negro into Patagonia, and paid a tribe of the wandering Indians never to let me back again. They passed me on to the Moluches, and I tried to make my escape from them, but was caught and left for dead again, till a woman took pity on me. Then I married her, and lived on putrid fish with a roving horde of the Eastern tribes, in a miserable country, where no white man goes. Then I took the disease from the diet and the nursing of my poor woman in her illness, and for five years I was shut up in the leper’s den – as they called a reeking peninsula, which explorers know as Saint Jacob; at the back of a place called the Bottomless Pit. There was no getting out; there were thirty of us, sometimes more, and sometimes less, sometimes we got victuals, and sometimes we starved, and I was the only white man there.

“Although we were quite close to the sea, and almost surrounded by it, we were far away from all chance of ships, on a desolate, barbarous coast in a curve a hundred leagues out of the line of traffic. And there I must have wasted into a sandy skeleton, for there was no possibility of escape inland, unless a good angel had been sent to fetch me. For the ship was taking soundings, or something of the sort, having come far away from the usual course, to find the truth about the bottomless gulf; and all I could do would have gone for nothing, except for that young lady. They were giving us a wide berth, as if we all were savages, when luckily for me she brought her spy-glass to bear, and declared that she saw a white man among the rest. The others laughed at her, for you may be pretty sure that there was not much white about me just then; but she stuck to it, and ran for the Captain, and insisted that a boat should be sent to see about it. Oh, I could worship that girl, I could; though it isn’t much good to me, after all.

“Come, you ought to say you will take care that it is, and devote all your days and your money to the welfare of your persecuted parent. You must have expected me long ago, or at any rate had some hopes of it, for I sent you a message several years ago, and some documents too from Mendoza, before I was banished finally. A knockabout fellow swore to find out all about you, and deliver them the next time he was in London. Do you mean to say he has never done it?”

“Not till last autumn; and it was so old, I thought nothing more would come of it. A sort of half Englishman, half Spaniard. But a faithful fellow, and thought wonders of you. When he first came with your message, he got into a scrape before he could deliver it. He stabbed a man at the Docks, and had to bolt again, and he fought shy of London for years after that. But to see you like this was the last thing I could dream of. You said not a word of this in your letter.”

“Because I had not got it then. I took it from misery and starvation, and living among the savages. Ah, I have seen a good deal of the world, and met with some wonderful people. How small even London seems to me!”

“Yes, I dare say; and how small the world is! You could tell many a tale no doubt, but none more wonderful than your own. Do you know who it was that fetched you off – the Captain of the Archytas?”

“Give me more brandy. It is good enough for that.” The great stranger shook himself – though he might have had more manners – and his clothes rattled round him like mildewed pea-pods. “I knew nothing about it at the time, of course; but since I came here I know everything. Why it was the man who stepped into my shoes, and a devilish sight too good to do it. Ah, he has had his hair combed, once or twice, I doubt. Better almost have turned leper at once. How good he was to me! No haughty airs, no shudders, no ‘keep your distance, dog!’ He was not at all sure of contagion, till he looked at his books in the cabin. But it made no difference to him. He could not tell who I was; he took me for a Spaniard – ‘Diaz’ was the name I went by – but he treated me as a Christian, as Christ himself would have treated me.”

The poor man lifted his hat as he spoke, from his naked yellow head, and the glare of his eyes was clouded. The power to weep was gone, but not the power of things that move to it.

“And he did a good work for himself,” he resumed, looking fiercely again at Downy; “he did himself a better turn than me, without knowing anything about it. Every one of my troubles has been through that woman. She never knew what a man’s wife is. She wanted to be man and woman too. The Pulcho Indians would have taught her something. Top-knot come down. Your husband is a leper, and the man you have eaten up for years goes free. I am only waiting till the proper time comes. I have had a fine time of it; and so shall she.”

“But I suppose you don’t want to hurt your children;” Donovan spoke in a surly voice, for he saw that this man was not one to be soothed; “what harm have your children ever done you? By appearing now you would simply starve us; and what could we do to help you then? You have been in London for weeks, I dare say, and you have learned all you could about us. Did you learn that we are living in Fairthorn’s house, and on Fairthorn’s money? And what becomes of that, when you turn up? Did you learn that I am likely to marry a lady of great wealth and good position? What becomes of that if you turn up? You have not let my mother know a word as yet?”

“Not I. Not a syllable yet, my son. What a strange thing it seems to have a son again! No, I don’t want to hurt you, or the two girls either. I have managed to get a look at them. How they would have stared, if they had guessed it. I consider them to be a credit to me, and I hope they are better than their mother. And you are a credit in a certain way – a strong, plain-spoken fellow. Not much humbug about you, I should say. And of course, I can’t expect much affection. But I dare say you are sorry about your poor father.”

“Father, I am. I am broken down about you. I have always thought well of you, and made allowance for you.”

“God knows that I have wanted it, my son. I will do all I can to help you now. I will live in some hole, and not show myself, for a time. But only for a time, mind you. My revenge I will have, when it can’t hurt you so much. But you must give me money, to support me till that day. What will you pay, and how long will you want?”

“Three months, perhaps four; and pay two pounds a week. It is all I can afford, for I am awfully hard up. After my marriage, five pounds, if you like. Give me your address. You can have two weeks’ money now. It is all I have by me. But don’t come here again; these people are very suspicious. I will arrange to meet you somewhere.”

The poor cripple managed to take the money, and after a few more words departed. Then Bulwrag flung the other window up, cast the tumbler out of it, and lighted some pastilles. Then he took a draught of brandy neat, and went upstairs to sit in his bedroom, and brood over this calamity.

CHAPTER LXI.

ZINKA

Of all those things I had no knowledge, till it came upon me suddenly; except that I heard from time to time, both through Mrs. Marker and Mrs. Wilcox, and even Miss Coldpepper, that Donovan Bulwrag was going on strangely, and no one could understand him. He was in such a state of mind that even his mother feared to cross him, and his sisters were afraid to ask him anything about it. And no one could tell what his motive was; but all agreed that he was now as anxious to marry Lady Clara, as he had been careless about it last year. This – as so often seems to happen – diminished the ardour of the other side, and the Earl insisted more and more that he should bring something solid into settlement. The estates of his grandfather, Lord Roarmore, were evidently encumbered, and that ancient nobleman himself, now approaching his ninetieth year, was almost incapable of business.

Though I had been terribly afflicted for a year, without the satisfaction of deserving it, there was one thing beyond denial, to wit that I had met with most wonderful kindness from friends, and neighbours, and the world at large. If any one says to me henceforth that there is no such thing as good feeling, or good will, and that everything is selfishness, I shall tell him that he judges all his neighbours by himself, and I wish to hear no more of him.

And now when the fatal day came round, which would fill up the twelvemonth of my misery, no less than six people were thoughtful enough to give me the offer of being from home, when it must be a bitter home to me. Uncle Corny, Aunt Parslow, and Mr. Golightly, Sam Henderson, and Mrs. Wilcox, and Widow Cutthumb, all entreated me to come to them, if I did nothing more than hear them talk. Mrs. Marker, if she had lived in her own house, would have added her invitation; and Mr. Rasp the baker – though now getting on, almost beyond recognition – got his wife to write to me, and say that they would have a little card-party in the evening.

But there were too many young ladies there for me, to be seen in the shop behind jam-pots, in a style we could never enter into; and if I had meant to go to any place at all, that would have been the last of them, because I should have felt what Kitty would be thinking – “Well, he does enjoy himself, without me!”

“Come to the Derby,” Sam Henderson said, meaning it all for my good, no doubt; “and see old Chalks win with Nutmeg-grater. He is at 40 to 1 – makes it all the surer – the finest foal my old Cinnaminta ever threw. Quite a moral, my son; I shall make four thou. Get on, while you can. Kept him dark as night. Tony came sniffing, but we gave him snuff. Before the flag falls, he will be at 4 to 1. Invest, my son, invest, if you wish to tool your Kitty in a four-in-hand.”

“Sam, you are up, or you would not talk so.” He saw that he should not have said it, and was dashed.

“Well, old fellow, I beg your pardon. But as sure as a horse has got four legs, you will have her back again within four months. Lay you ten to one, in fivers.”

“Do you think I would bet about a thing like that? Sam you are a good friend; but this is not like you.”

“Only wanted to keep your pecker up. The pluckiest fellow gets in the dumps sometimes. Never take it crusty, when a cove means well. Sorry you won’t come to us to-morrow. Sally gives a rare spread at nine o’clock. But every man knows his own ways best. I shall look you up, on my way home. Expect to have some news, but won’t bother you till then. Good news, fine news for you, Kit.”

He spoke to his glassy little nag, and was off, before I could ask him what he meant. And I said to myself that it could only be some nonsense, to keep my spirits up.

The day of my trouble, the 15th of May, happened to be the Derby day that year, and our quiet little village was disturbed with joy. Every one who could raise a pair of shafts, or even of shanks, was agog right early, and I heard their shouts over my uncle’s wall, while they set forth as merry as Londoners. I resolved not to leave my work all day, except for a crust of bread and cheese, that there might be no room and no time for moping, which sits on our laps when we cross our legs. But when it grew dark, and I went home alone, I tried in vain to whistle, and my heart felt very low.

What was the use of keeping up? It was only a sham and a self-deceit. Ten years were as likely to go by as one, without bringing any consolation to me. All the prime of my life must pass in sorrow, empty, mysterious, lonely sorrow. Perhaps when I grew old and could care for no one, having no one to care for me, when it mattered very little how my life was to finish, the matter might be cleared up, all too late. Even my uncle Corny’s trouble, heavy, incurable, and life-long as it was, seemed light in comparison with mine; because all its history was manifest, and all suspense was over. How much longer must this misery drag on? If my Kitty were not dead, she must have come back long ago. Or perhaps she had forgotten me and married some low villain.

“Nutmeg-grater, Nutmeg-grater, Nutmeg-grater, for ever!” Two merry fellows were shouting for their lives, as they walked in wavering latitudes among the flowering pear-trees.

“Let me tell him.” “No, I’ll tell him.” “What do you know about it?” “Why you never saw him in your life.” My heart gave a jump, for I thought it must be some grand news, by this fuss about it.

“Right you are, Kit. Right you shall be. Nutmeg-grater, and Kit for ever!” they shouted as they saw me sitting in the dusk, on a big flower-pot outside my door. “Shake hands, old fellow; shake hands, here he is. He knows all about it. Major Monkhouse, let me introduce you. Mr. Kit Orchardson, Major Monkhouse, the two best fellows in the world together, and Nutmeg-grater is the third.”

I saw that Sam was a little in advance of his usual state, and the Major not behind him. They were flourishing their hats, full of skeleton dolls, and striking attitudes, and spinning round now and then against each other.

“What are you come to tell me, gentlemen? Is it about the race?” I asked, trembling to think it must be something more.

“The race be d – d!” cried Major Monkhouse, one of the most courteous of men, when sober, as I discovered afterwards. “As between man and man, sir; as between man and man, you know – ”

“The Major’s hat is full of money,” said Sam, as if his own were empty; “when that is the case, a confounded good fellow is better than ever, sir – better than ever.”

“Shake hands,” the Major shouted; “Sam, shake hands!” And he took mine by mistake, but it made no difference. “You have such a manner of expressing what you call it – equal honour to his hands and head. This gentleman must not mistake my meaning. Mr. Archerson, excuse me, you understand my sentiments. You might ride him, sir, with a daisy-chain.”

“Sit down, gentlemen.” I was trying to be patient, and thought that the safest position for them.

“Not a drop, Kit, not a drop, my good fellow. I am all but a total abstainer now. And as for the Major, why, his doctor tells him – ”

“No good, sir, no good at all. ‘Dr. Bangs,’ I says, ‘you may be right; but you don’t catch me taking any of your confounded stim – shim – shimmulers.’ Sam knows how hard he tried; but it wouldn’t do, sir.”

“Oh, but you were come to tell me something. I thought you came out of your way on purpose – something of importance to me?”

“Right you are, Kit, right as usual. There never was such a boy to hit the mark. Set you up, Kit, set you on your legs again – no more poking, no more potting, no more pottering under a wall, no more shirking the Derby – mind you, a d – d ungentlemanly thing to do. Why we wouldn’t have known it but for that!”

“Never should have seen her, without that,” said Major Monkhouse, solemnly; “put away too secretly among the lost tribes. Ah, she is a stunning woman!”

“Now will you tell me what you mean?” I felt that I should like to knock their tipsy heads together; “this may be a very fine joke to you. But no excitement excuses it.”

“Excitement! Cool as a cucumber, sir;” cried the Major, with a countenance by no means cool, “I should like to know what you mean by that insinuation.”

“Leave it to me, Major; leave it all to me. Our friend Kit is a little hasty,” said Henderson, whispering to me – “Don’t mind him, a very grand fellow – but has had too much. Major Monkhouse, it is our place to make every allowance for married men. They never know very well what they are about.”

“By George, sir, you are right. Mr. Archerson, shake hands. I honour you for your integrity, sir. Sorry for you, very sorry, and apologize with candour. Every Englishman adds to his self-respect by that.”

“How he puts things! It comes of being in the Army. Now go to sleep, Major, it will do you a lot of good, while I tell friend Kit all we have been doing for him.”

By this time my hopes were reduced to proper level, and I had ceased to glance through the trees behind them, in search of somebody who might never come again. For these two men had come in with such a flourish, that the wildest ideas ran through me.

“A drop of ice-cold water from your pump,” said Sam, “and then I’ll tell you something that will please you. My coppers are hot, because I have taken next to nothing; and the dust – you should have seen it! You have heard of the celebrated Zinka, haven’t you, the most wonderful creature that was ever born? Well, my dear friend there, the very finest fellow that ever stepped this earth, sir – don’t deny it, Major, but go to by-by – I met him at the corner on Monday, Kit; and old Pots was there, and that made me talk of you. ‘Tell you what,’ he says, ‘let us see the great Zinka. She can’t help being there on Wednesday. It is the only day in the year you can catch her; but the stars always bring her to the Derby. If he won’t come, you bring something of his, something he has worn, or had about him. If it is bad news, why we need not tell him, and if it is good, why it will be new life to him.”

“Of course I jumped at it, and it shows what a fool I am that it had never occurred to me. Zinka is the queen of all the gipsies, although she is only five and twenty, the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. Don’t tell Sally that I said so. Why she is Cinnaminta’s daughter, that my old mare is named from. So you may suppose that she knows everything. If we could only get her to spot the winners for us – but she won’t, she wouldn’t for a hundred thousand pounds.

“Well, I prigged your handkerchief yesterday, my boy. No professional could have done it neater; and a queer thing it was that it should be your wife’s with her maiden name done in her own hair. Nothing could be luckier, and we had a rare laugh at it. Zinka was on the downs, not like a common gipsy, but half a mile away towards Preston, in a beautiful tent of her own, for she never mixes with the common ruck. It takes an introduction, I can tell you, and a good one too, to get a word from her. But the Major managed that, for he knows something of her people. There is no flummery about her. You cross her hand with a five pound note, and a crown-piece in it, and you tell her what you want, and whatever you give her to hold she keeps.”

“You don’t mean to say that a dirty Gipsy woman has got one of my Kitty’s pocket-handkerchiefs?”

“Dirty Gipsy woman! She’s as clean as any queen; and for majesty and breed – oh, I wish you could have seen her. A thoroughbred filly three years old is more graceful than any woman that ever stepped. You can’t expect two legs to go as well as four, you know. But Zinka – well, to see Sally walk after that! And Sally ain’t clumsy in her paces, neither. But what do you think she said? When we had told her all about it, she shut her great eyes for a minute, and her lashes came down to the brown roses on her cheeks, and then she whispered —