The Catholic World
Chapter 78 : "Only one poun'-ten a week, sir, and no extras; and I may say you won't

"Only one poun'-ten a week, sir, and no extras; and I may say you won't find such cheap airy lodgings anywhere else in the place; not to speak of the sea-view;" and the bustling landlady threw open the door of the tiny sitting-room with an air which would have become a Belgravian lackey. It certainly was a cosy, sunny little apartment, with just such a view of the sea, and of nothing else whatsoever, as is the delight of an inland heart, I was revolving in my mind how to make terms on one most important point, when she again broke forth: "I can a.s.sure you, sir, I could have let these same rooms again and again in the last two days, if I had not given my promise to Mrs. Johnson that she should have them next Friday fortnight, and I would never go from my word, sir--never! though this month is our harvest, and it's hard for me to have the rooms standing empty. As I told my niece only yesterday, I won't let forward again, not to please anybody, for it don't answer, and it worrits me out of my life. And I'm sure, sir, if you like to come for the fortnight, I'll do my utmost to make you comfortable; and I always have given satisfaction; and you could not get nicer rooms nowhere."

"No," said I, taking advantage of her pause for breath; "these are very nice. I--I suppose you don't object to smoking?"

The good woman's face a.s.sumed a severe expression, though I detected a comical twinkle in her eye. "Why, sir, we always do say--but if it's only a cigar, and not one of them nasty pipes"--

I smiled: "To tell the truth, it generally is a pipe."

"Is it now? Well, sir, if _you_ please, we won't say anything about it now. We have a lady-lodger upstairs, and if she should complain, I can but say that it is against my rules, and that I'll mention it to you.

And so, sir, if you please, I'll go now, and see to your portmanteau being taken up;" and thereupon she vanished, leaving me in sole possession.

I threw my bag and rug on to the sofa, pushed a slippery horsehair armchair up to the window, and sat down to rest and inhale the sea-breezes with a certain satisfaction at being in harbor. As I before remarked, the prospect was in the strictest sense of the words a sea-view. Far away to east and west stretched the blue ocean; and beside it, I could see only a steep gra.s.s-bank just beneath my window, with a broad s.h.i.+ngly path running at its base, evidently designed for an esplanade, though no human form was visible thereon. Away to the right, I just caught a glimpse of shelving beach, dotted with fishermen's boats; and of a long wooden jetty, with half-a-dozen figures slowly pacing from end to end, while the dismal screeching of a bra.s.s band told of an attempt at music more ambitious than successful. It was not a lively look-out for a solitary man, and I half wished myself back in my mother's comfortable house at Brompton.

However, I was in for it now; and I could but try how far a fortnight of open air and exercise would recruit my wasted strength. I had been reading really hard at Oxford through the last term, and my very unusual industry had been followed by a languor and weariness which so awakened my dear mother's solicitude that she never rested till she had persuaded Dr. Busby to prescribe sea-air and a total separation from my books. She could not come {536} with me, as she longed to do, kind soul! but she packed my properties, and gave endless instructions as to diet, all of which I had forgotten before I had accomplished the first mile of my journey. I don't know why I came to that out-of-the-way watering-place, except that I was too languid to have a will of my own, or to care for the noisy life of country-houses full of sportsmen. So, on the following morning, behold me in gray travelling suit and wide-awake, strolling along the beach, watching the pretty bathers as they dipped their heads under water, and then reappeared, shaking the dripping tresses from their eyes. Then there were the fishermen, brawny, bare-legged Goliahs, setting forth on their day's toil, and launching their boats with such shouts and cries as, to the uninitiated, might indicate some direful calamity. The beach was alive now, for the whole visiting population, such as it was, seemed to have turned out this bright September morning, and were scattered about, sketching, working, and chattering. I scanned each group, envying them their merry laughter and gay talk, and half hoping to recognize some familiar face among those lazy lounging youths and sun-burned damsels; but my quest was fruitless, and I pursued my lonely way apart.

Really, though, the little place improved upon acquaintance. There were fine bold cliffs, just precipitous enough to make a scramble to the top almost irresistible; there were long stretches of yellow sand and shallow pools glittering in the sunlight; and there was a breeze coming straight from the north pole, which quickened my blood, and brought the color into my sallow cheeks, even as I drank it in. I bathed, I walked, I climbed, I made friends with the boatmen, and got them to take me out in their fis.h.i.+ng-smacks; but still, with returning vigor, I began to crave not a little for some converse with more congenial spirits than these honest tars and my loquacious landlady. I inscribed my name on the big board at the library; I did all that man could do to make my existence known, but nearly a week pa.s.sed away, and still my fellow-creatures held aloof. I had been out for the whole of one windy afternoon tossing on the waves, watching the lobster-fis.h.i.+ng, and came in at sunset tolerably drenched with spray, and with a terrific appet.i.te. As I opened the door of my little sitting-room, I beheld--most welcome sight--the white dinner-cloth, and lying upon it a card--a large, highly-glazed, most unmistakable visiting-card. With eager curiosity, I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, but curiosity changed to amazement when I read the name, "Sir Philip Hetherton, Grantham Park." Sir Philip Hetherton! Why, in the name of all that's incomprehensible, should he call on me? I had never even heard his name; I knew no more of him than of the man in the moon. Could he be some country magnate who made it a duty to cultivate the acquaintance of every visitor to Linbeach? If so, he must have a hard time of it, even in this little unfrequented region. My impatience could not be restrained till Mrs. Plumb's natural arrival with the chops; and an energetic pull at the bell brought her at once courtesying and smiling.

"I suppose," began I, holding the card with a.s.sumed carelessness between my finger and thumb--"I suppose this gentleman, Sir Philip Hetherton, called here to-day?"

"Oh yes, sir, this afternoon; not an hour ago."

"He inquired for me?"

"Yes, sir; he asked particularly for young Mr. Olifant, and said he was very sorry to miss you. He's a very pleasant-spoken gentleman, is Sir Philip."

"Ah, I see. Is he often in Linbeach? Does he know many people living in the place?"

"Well, I don't think he has many friends here, sir; at least, I never understood so; but he owns some of the {537} houses in the town, and he is very kind to the poor. No one is ever turned away empty-handed from his door, and I've a right to say so, sir, for my brother's widow lives in one of the lodges at Grantham. He put her into it when her husband was drowned at sea, and he's been a good friend to her ever since."

All this was not what I wanted to find out, but I had learned by experience that Mrs. Plumb's tongue must have its swing. I now mildly brought her back to the point: "Does he see anything of the visitors?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir. He sometimes rides in of an afternoon, for Grantham is only four miles from Linbeach; but I don't think he ever stays long."

So it was not apparently an eccentric instance of universal friendliness, but a special mark of honor paid to me. It grew more and more mysterious. However, there was nothing to be gained by pumping Mrs. Plumb further; and as I was discreetly minded to keep my own counsel, I dismissed her. But meditating long and deeply over my solitary dinner, I came at length to the unwelcome conclusion, that Sir Philip Hetherton must have been laboring under some strange delusion, and that I should see and hear no more of him. I was rather in the habit of priding myself on my judgment and discrimination; but in this instance they were certainly at fault, for within three days, I met him face to face. I was strolling slowly along one of the shady country lanes which led inland between cornfields and hedge-rows, when I encountered a portly, gray-haired gentleman, mounted on an iron-gray cob, and trotting soberly toward Linbeach. He surveyed me so inquisitively out of his merry blue eyes, that the thought crossed me, could this be the veritable Sir Philip? I smiled at my own vivid imagination; but I must confess that before I had proceeded another half mile, I faced round, and returned to Linbeach for more briskly than I had left it. I had scarcely stepped into Mrs. Plumb's pa.s.sage, when that personage herself met me open-mouthed, with a pencil-note in her hand. "Oh, Mr. Olifant, I wish you had come in rather sooner. Sir Philip has been here again, and as he could not see you, he wrote this note, for he had not time to wait. I was quite vexed that it should happen so."

Evidently the good woman was fully impressed with the dignity of the event, and not a little flattered at the honor paid to her lodger. I opened the note, and it contained--oh marvel of marvels!--an invitation to dinner for the following day, coupled with many warm expressions of regard for my family, and regrets at having been hitherto unable to see me.

"I told Sir Philip that I thought you had only gone down to the beach, sir; but he laughed, and said he should not know you if he met you. I suppose you don't know him, do you, sir?" Mrs. Plumb added insinuatingly.

"No." said I; thinking within myself that the baronet need not have been quite so communicative. However, this confession of his, at any rate, threw same light upon the subject, and suggested a solution. He might have known my father or mother. Of course, indeed, he must have known them, or somebody belonging to me. His own apparent confidence began to infect me, and I wrote off an elaborate and gracefully-worded acceptance; and then sat down to my pipe, and a complacent contemplation of all the benefits that might accrue to me through his most praiseworthy cordiality. "After all," I reflected, "'tis no matter where one goes; friends are sure to turn up everywhere;" and thereon arose visions of partridge-shooting in the dewy mornings, to be followed by pleasant little dinners with my host and a bevy of lovely daughters. But on the morrow certain misgivings revisited me, and I came to the conclusion that it would only be the civil thing to ride over to Grantham in the afternoon, and get through {538} the first introductions and explanations before appearing there as a guest. Accordingly, I hired a long-legged, broken-winded hack, the only one to be got for love or money, and set forth upon my way. It was a fruitless journey; the fatal "not at home" greeted my ears, and I could only drop a card, turn the Roman nose of my gallant steed toward home, and resign myself to my fate.

Seven o'clock was the hour named for dinner, and I had intended to be particularly punctual, but misfortunes crowded thick upon me. The first white tie that came to hand was a miserable failure. My favorite curl would not be adjusted becomingly upon my brow; and the wretched donkey-boy who had solemnly promised to bring the basket-carriage punctually to the door, did not appear till ten minutes after the time. Last of all, when I had descended "got up" to perfection, and was on the point of starting, I discovered that I was minus gloves, and the little maid-of-all-work had to be sent fleeing off to the corner shop, where haberdashery and grocery were picturesquely combined. So it fell out that, despite hard driving, it was several minutes past the hour when we drew up under the portico at Grantham. I had no time to compose my nerves or prepare my opening address. A gorgeously-arrayed flunkie appeared at the hall-door; a solemn butler, behind, waved me on to the guidance of another beplushed and bepowdered individual; and before I fully realized my position, I stood in a brilliantly-lighted drawing-room, full of people, and heard my name proclaimed in stentorian tones. The next moment, the florid gentleman whom I had encountered on the previous day came forward with outstretched hands and a beaming face, and a perfect torrent of welcomes burst upon me.

"Glad to see you at last, Mr. Olifant, very glad to see you; I began to think there was a fate against our meeting. Let me introduce you.

Lady Hetherton--my daughter--my son Fred. Come this way, this way."

And I was hurried along helpless as an infant in the jovial baronet's hands. How could I--I appeal to any reasonable being--how could I stand stock-still, and, under the eyes of all that company, cross-examine my host as to the why and wherefore of his hospitality?

It will be owned, I think, that in what afterward occurred I was not wholly to blame. Lady Hetherton was a quiet well-bred woman, with a mild face and soft voice; she greeted me with a certain sleepy warmth, and after a few placid commonplaces, resumed her conversation with the elderly lady by her side, and left me to the care of her son, a bright, frank young Harrovian, with whom I speedily made friends.

Really it was very pleasant to drop in this way into the centre of a genial circle, and I found my spirits rising fast as we talked together, _con amore_, of cricket, boating, hunting. A fresh arrival, however, soon disturbed the party, and, directly afterward, dinner was announced. Sir Philip, who had been busily engaged in welcoming the last comers, led off a stately dame upon his arm, and we followed in procession, a demure young daughter of the house being a.s.signed to me.

We were slowly making our way round the dining-room, when, just as we pa.s.sed the end of the table, Sir Philip turned and laid his hand upon my shoulder.

"I have scarcely had time for a word yet," he said; "but how are they all in Yorks.h.i.+re?"

I don't know what answer I gave; some one from behind begged leave to pa.s.s, and I was borne on utterly bewildered. Yorks.h.i.+re! what had I to do with Yorks.h.i.+re? And then, all at once, the appalling truth burst on me like a thunder-clap--I was the wrong man! Yes; _now_ I recalled a certain Captain Olifant, whom I had once met at a mess-dinner, and who, as I had then heard, belonged to an old Yorks.h.i.+re family. We could count no sort of kins.h.i.+p with them {539} but here I was, for some inexplicable reason, a.s.sumed as one of them, perhaps as the eldest son and heir of their broad acres, and regaled accordingly. My situation was sufficiently unpleasant, and in the first impulse of dismay, I made a dash at a central seat where I might be as far as possible from both host and hostess. But my manoeuvre failed. Lady Hetherton's soft tones were all too audible as she said: "Mr. Olifant, perhaps you will come up here; the post of honor;" and of danger too, in my case; but there was no help for it, and I went. As I unfolded my napkin, striving hard for a cool and easy demeanor, I mentally surveyed my position, and decided on my tactics. I could not and would not there and then declare myself an embodied mistake; I must trust to chance and my own wits to carry me through the evening, and leave my explanations for another season. Alas! my trials full soon began. "We had hardly been seated three minutes, when Lady Hetherton turned to me.

"We were so very glad you were able to come to-night, Mr. Olifant; Sir Philip had quite set his heart upon seeing you here. It is such a great pleasure to him to revive an old friends.h.i.+p; and he was saying that he had almost lost sight of your family."

I murmured something not very coherent about distance and active life.

"Ah, yes, country gentlemen have so much to do that they really are greatly tied at home. I think, though, that I once had the pleasure of meeting a sister of yours in town--Margaret her name was, and she was suffering from some affection of the spine. I hope she is better now?"

"Much better, thank you." And then, in the faint hope of turning the conversation, I asked if they were often in town.

"Not so often as I should wish. Sir Philip has a great dislike to London; but I always enjoy it, for one meets everybody there.

By-the-by, Olifant, the Fordes must be near neighbors of yours. I am sure I have heard them speak of Calveston."

I did not dare to say they were not, lest inquiries should follow which might betray my extreme ignorance of Yorks.h.i.+re geography in general, and the locality of Calveston in particular; so I chose the lesser peril, and answered cheerfully; "Oh yes, quite near within an easy walk of us."

"What charming people they are!" said Lady Hetherton, growing almost enthusiastic. "The two eldest girls were staying here last spring, and we all lost our hearts to them, they were so bright and pleasant; and Katie, too, is growing so very pretty. She isn't out yet, is she?"

"No; I fancy she is to be presented next year," I responded, reflecting that while I was about it I might as well do it thoroughly.

"She ought to make a sensation."

"Ah, then," said Lady Hetherton eagerly, "you agree with me about her beauty."

"Oh, entirely. I expect she will be quite the belle of our country b.a.l.l.s." And then, in the same breath, I turned to the shy Miss Hetherton beside me, and startled her by an abrupt inquiry whether she liked b.a.l.l.s. She must have thought, at any rate, that I liked talking, for her timid, orthodox reply was scarcely uttered, before I plied her with fresh questions, and deluged her with a flood of varied eloquence. Races, archery, croquet, Switzerland, Paris, Garibaldi, the American war, Muller's capture, and Tennyson's new poem, all played their part in turn. For why? Was I not aware that Lady Hetherton's conversation with the solemn old archdeacon opposite flagged from time to time, and that, at every lull, she looked toward me, as though concocting fresh means of torture. But I gained the day; and at length, with secret exultation, watched the ladies slowly defiling from the room. Poor innocent! I little knew what was impending. The last voluminous skirt had scarcely disappeared, when Sir Philip left his chair, and advancing {540} up the table, gla.s.s in hand, seated himself in his wife's place at my elbow. I tried to believe that he might intend to devote himself to the arch-deacon, but that good gentleman was more than half inclined to nod, and my left-hand neighbor was deep in a geological discussion; so I sat on, spell-bound, like the sparrow beneath the awful shadow of the hawk.

Certainly, there was not much outward resemblance between that bird of prey and Sir Philip's comely, smiling visage, as he leaned forward, and said cheerily: "Well, now, I want to hear all about them."

It was not an encouraging beginning for me, but I had committed myself with Lady Hetherton too far for a retreat. Like Cortes, I had burned my s.h.i.+ps. Before I had framed my answer, the baronet proceeded: "I don't know any of you young ones, but your father and I were fast friends once upon a time. Many's the lark we've had together at Harrow, ay, and at Oxford too; for he was a wild-spirited fellow then, was Harry Olifant, though, I daresay, he has settled down into a sober country squire long ago."

It was plain that Sir Philip liked to hear himself talk, and my courage revived.

"Why, yes," I said; "years and cares do work great changes in most men; I daresay you would hardly know him now."

"I daresay not. But he is well, and as good a shot as in the old Oxford days?"

"Just as good. He is never happier than among his turnips." And then I shuddered at my own audacity, as I pictured my veritable parent, a hard-worked barrister, long since dead, and with about as much notion of firing a gun as one of his own briefs.

"Quite right, quite right," exclaimed Sir Philip energetically, "and we can find you some fair sport here, my boy, though the birds are wild this year. Come over as often as you like while you are at Linbeach; or, better still, come and slay here."

I thanked him, and explained that I was staying at Linbeach for the sea-air, and that I must be in town in a few days.

"I'm sorry for that. We ought to have found you out sooner; but I only chanced to see your name at the library last Friday. And so you are at Merton?"

"Yes, I'm at Merton," said I, feeling it quite refres.h.i.+ng to speak the truth.

"Ah, I'm glad your father's stuck to the old college; you could not be at a better one. That boy of mine is wild for soldiering, or I should have sent him there."

The mystery stood revealed. I had recorded my name on the visitors'

board as H. Olifant, Merton College, Oxford; and by a strange coincidence, Sir Philip's former friend had belonged to the same college, and owned the same initial. The coincidence was indeed so complete, that it had evidently never dawned upon the baronet that I could be other than the son of his old chum. He sat now sipping his wine, with almost a sad expression on his honest face.