Lost Sir Massingberd Volume I Part 2

A few steps further brought us to the north face of the mansion, in which was the princ.i.p.al entrance. Notwithstanding the broad sweep in front of the steps, and the avenue branching right and left, there did not seem s.p.a.ce enough as contrasted with the vast ma.s.s of trees. The scene was like a clearing in a forest, where the openings are artificial, and the wood comes by nature rather than the converse, and even in that September day the air struck chill. The griffins that guarded the great stone steps had lost, the one an ear, and the other a wing, and the steps themselves were chipped and cracked. The gra.s.s which grew there unchecked at other seasons, had however been sc.r.a.ped out, because Sir Ma.s.singberd's guests were expected immediately for the shooting. None of them, however, had as yet arrived. The great bell which answered our summons clanged through the place as though there had been neither furniture nor people within it. The vast door was opened long before its echoes ceased, and indeed with marvellous quickness.

When the man saw who we were, he looked vexed at having put himself in a flurry without necessity. He thought doubtless it was his master who demanded admittance, and had come post haste from the pantry, it being very dangerous to keep the baronet waiting. We were ushered into the great hall, and left there while the man went to seek Sir Ma.s.singberd.

This huge apartment was evidently used as a sitting-room. There were couches and comfortable chairs in profusion, and a fine aroma of tobacco pervaded everything. The walls were ornamented with antlers and the heads of foxes; a number of fis.h.i.+ng rods stood in one corner; in another lay some of those clubs that are used for exercising the muscles. On the table was an open pocket-book, stuck full of gorgeous artificial flies.

Presently the man reappeared. Sir Ma.s.singberd would see us in his private sitting-room. We walked over polished oak, on which I could with difficulty keep my footing, down a long pa.s.sage hung with grim portraits of the Heath family--"all dead and judged," as Marmaduke subsequently informed me--until we came to a short flight of steps on the left hand; these we descended, and following the footsteps of our conductor, in almost perfect darkness, came upon double doors, the inner of which, a baize one, admitted us into the presence of the proprietor. The baronet was in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, cleaning a double-barrelled gun.

"This is my pupil, Peter Meredith," said Mr. Long.

"I know the young gentleman," replied Sir Ma.s.singberd, curtly, and the horse-shoe upon his brow contracted as he spoke. "What makes you bring him here?"

"Well, Sir Ma.s.singberd," observed my tutor, forcing a laugh, "that is scarcely a hospitable observation. I bring this friend of your nephew's because what I have to propose concerns them both. It is good for these boys to be together, not to live solitary lives; and to keep them mewed up at home, as they are now, is a positive cruelty. Marmaduke is getting thinner and paler every day; and Meredith--"

"Do you really think so, parson?" asked the baronet eagerly, omitting for a moment to use the dirty-looking piece of oiled flannel which had previously monopolized his attention.

"I do, indeed, Sir Ma.s.singberd. I believe that if a doctor was to give his opinion about that boy--"

"The Heaths never send for doctors, or for clergymen," interrupted the baronet, with a sneer.

"And yet they have often needed advice, both spiritual and temporal,"

quoth my tutor, stoutly. "I say you should get a horse for your nephew's riding; it need be no trouble to you whatever. I am going over to Crittenden Fair next week myself to purchase one for my pupil; now, let me get one for your nephew also."

At first Sir Ma.s.singberd's countenance expressed nothing but angry impatience, but presently he began to rub the gun-barrel less and less violently. "And who is to find the money?" inquired he.

"I think that can be managed, Sir Ma.s.singberd. Mr. Clint will doubtless listen to such an application on behalf of Marmaduke; he will risk advancing a few pounds--"

"For thirty-five guineas one can get a very good pony," observed the baronet, reflectively.

"Or even for less," returned Mr. Long, drily; and then, to my excessive terror, he added in quite as loud a key, "He wants to keep the difference; that's his plan."

"And he means to do it, too," observed Sir Ma.s.singberd grimly. "No, you needn't apologize, parson, for your thinking aloud; you don't suppose I am going to do anything without being paid for it, do you? Then there's the keep of the animal. Now, what will Mr. Clint allow me for that, do you suppose? Oats and beans are very expensive, and you wouldn't have me feed my dear nephew's pony upon hay!"

Sir Ma.s.singberd was a formidable object at all times, but I really think he inspired more fear when he was pleased--when some wicked notion tickled him--than even when he was in wrath.

"I think, Sir Ma.s.singberd, the question of expense can be managed to your satisfaction," said my tutor, not a little overwhelmed by having thus involuntarily expressed his suspicion of the baronet; "and, as I have said, I will save you all trouble by selecting the horse myself."

"Certainly not, sir," exclaimed Sir Ma.s.singberd savagely; "I suffer no man to choose my horses for me."

"Very good," replied Mr. Long, biting his lip. "I have only to stipulate, then, that if your nephew gets the horse, he is to ride it. I shall have to make myself answerable for that much to Mr. Clint."

"Oh, he shall ride it," quoth the baronet, with a horrid imprecation; "you may take your oath of that. And by the by, since you are here, parson, I want to have some talk with you about that same fellow Clint, who has been behaving devilish ill to me, I think. You may go away, young gentleman, you may. You'll find your future riding companion--he has about as much notion of riding as old Gr.i.m.j.a.w yonder--sulking in his own room, I dare say. Gr.i.m.j.a.w, show the young gentleman up to Marmaduke's room."

At these words a dog of horrible aspect came out from under the very sofa on which I sat, and trotted off towards the door. He was the oldest and ugliest dog I ever beheld. He had only one eye, which was green; he had no teeth, and was therefore not to be feared as a combatant; but his aspect was loathsome and repulsive to the last degree. The people of Fairburn imagined this animal to be Sir Ma.s.singberd's familiar demon, and, until of late years, when the creature had become incapacitated by age from accompanying him much, the two were scarcely ever seen apart.

Old as he was, however, the hideous Gr.i.m.j.a.w had some instinct left, which, after the word "Marmaduke" had been once more shrieked at him, caused him painfully to precede me up the oak staircase, and along another gallery to a chamber door, at which he sat and whined. This was immediately opened by his young master, who, with a "Come in, Grim,"

was only giving sufficient s.p.a.ce for the entrance of the dog, when I cried out, laughing: "What, have you no welcome for your friend? Like uncle, like nephew! What a pair of curmudgeons inhabit Fairburn Hall!"

The astonishment of Marmaduke at hearing my voice was excessive.

Notwithstanding his pleasure, his first thought, as usual, was: "Did Sir Ma.s.singberd know?"

"Yes," said I coolly; "of course he knows. He received me down-stairs with his usual politeness. Mr. Long and he are conversing upon some private matters, so I came up here to see you. It is arranged that each of us is to have a horse, and that we are to go out riding together."

"A horse! Oh, impossible!" exclaimed Marmaduke, clapping his hands.

"How did the good parson ever persuade my uncle? What did he give him?"

I could not help laughing at this nave inquiry, which my friend had made in perfect seriousness. I told him all that had occurred, including our tutor's viva-voce soliloquy, at which Marmaduke cried "Heavens!"

in terror.

"It is marvellous, notwithstanding, that my uncle should have consented," observed my companion, musing. "He told me, indeed, that I should be a great nuisance in the house this month, while his friends were down here shooting; but that he should have entered into an arrangement which gives me pleasure as well as gets rid of me, that seems so very strange."

"He has doubtless some base motive," returned I smiling: "let us console ourselves with that reflection. But what have we here? Water-colour paintings! Why have you never told me you were an artist?"

"I merely amuse myself with the paint-brush. I have had no lessons, of course, so that my perspective is quite Chinese."

"Nay, but I recognize almost all these scenes!"

"Well, you know, I have been nowhere else but at Fairburn, so that it is from thence I must take my subjects. The one you have there is taken from the bend in the stream beyond the Heronry."

"It is admirable," said I; and indeed it was so like the scene of my dream, that it gave me a shudder.

"Would you like to have it," replied Marmaduke carelessly. "You may take any that the portfolio contains. I only wish they were more worth your acceptance."

"Thank you," said I nervously. "I will certainly take this one, then;"

and I rolled the sketch tightly up, and placed it in my pocket. "But here is a pretty face! Why, Master Marmaduke, you have your secrets, I see; you have never mentioned to me this young lady. What beautiful hair! The eyes, too, how glorious, and yet how tender! It is surely not the lady whom we just met in the ar--"

"Silence, sir!" cried Marmaduke, in a voice of thunder. His face was lurid with rage, and for the first time I remarked upon his forehead a faint reflection of the horse-shoe that made so terrible the brow of his uncle. "Do not speak of that wretched woman in the same breath with, with--" He did not complete the sentence, but added in his usual soft musical tones: "Pardon me, my friend; I am sorry to have been so hasty; but that picture is the portrait of my mother."

"It was stupid in me not to have known that at once," said I. "The likeness is most remarkable."

"But not the expression," returned he sadly. "I know that just now I looked like one of my own race. She was always an angel, even when she was upon earth." And the boy looked up with his hands clasped, as though he beheld her, through his tears, in heaven.

"Did you paint that from a picture, Marmaduke?"

"No, from memory. Sleeping or waking, I often see her sweet face."

I had evidently raised by my thoughtlessness a long train of melancholy thoughts in my companion. The situation was embarra.s.sing, and I did not know how to escape from it. As often happens with well-intentioned but blundering persons, I made the most inopportune remark that could be framed. Forgetting what I had heard of the infamous treatment which Mrs. Heath had received while under her brother-in-law's roof, I observed: "Your mother was once at Fairburn, was she not? That should at least make the Hall more endurable to you."

Again Marmaduke's handsome face was disfigured with concentrated pa.s.sion. "Yes, she was here," returned he, speaking through his teeth.

"For what she suffered alone, the place would be cursed. Coward, scoundrel! Why does G.o.d suffer such men to live?" It was terrible to see how like this young lad grew to the man he was execrating. He went on using such language as I could not have conceived him capable of employing.

"Marmaduke," said I, soothingly, "for Heaven's sake, be calm. Providence will one day reward this man; it is not for you to Curse him. Come, now that I pay you a visit for the first time, you should play the host, and show me over the mansion. Why, that queer old dog seems to understand what one says; he rises as though he were the chatelain, and kept the keys of Doubting Castle. He brought me here as true as a blind man's cur. I cannot say, however, that he is beautiful; he is hideous, weird."

"It would be strange, indeed, if he were like other dogs," returned Marmaduke gravely. "He is the sole living repository of a most frightful secret. If he could but speak, he could perhaps send a man to the gallows."

"What man?" exclaimed I. "Pray explain to me this mystery."

"I do not know what man," returned my companion solemnly; "I only conjecture. I will relate to you what is known of the matter, and you shall judge for yourself."

Marmaduke opened the door, to see that no one was in the pa.s.sage without, and then seating himself close beside me, commenced as follows:--"My grandfather and the present baronet lived on bad terms with one another. For the last ten years of his life, Sir Wentworth and his eldest son never met--but once--if they met at all. He had been very profligate and extravagant in his young days; but in his old age he grew miserly. When my father saw him last, it was in a small house in Bedford Place, in London, where he lived in a couple of ill-furnished rooms, and without a servant. Gr.i.m.j.a.w and he slept there alone, but a charwoman came in every morning for a few hours. Sir Wentworth then gave it as his reason for this kind of life, that he was retrenching, in order to leave some suitable provision for his second son. 'Look here, Gilbert,' said he upon one occasion to my father; 'I have begun to lay by for you already; and he showed him a quant.i.ty of bank-notes, amounting to several thousand pounds. He had never been an affectionate parent, or exhibited any self-denial for the benefit of his sons; and my father did not believe him. He thanked him, of course; but he came away without any idea that he would be really better off at Sir Wentworth's death. This was fortunate for him, for he never received a farthing; but I am not so certain as he was that the baronet did not intend to do what he promised. While the old man was living in this sordid fas.h.i.+on, his son Ma.s.singberd was pa.s.sing his time very gaily at court. He played high, and there were few who could beat him with the cards--but there were some. It is no use being a good player, you see, unless you are the best; you only win from those whom you can beat, to lose it in your turn to the man who can beat you. Thus it was with my uncle, who played, as I say, high with everybody, but highest, as is often the case, with his superiors in skill. However, he paid his debts of honour with money raised at an enormous sacrifice. He lived well, but it was upon his future prospects. At last, being harder pressed than usual, he wrote to his father--the first letter he had penned to him for years--and demanded pecuniary help.

"Sir Wentworth wrote back a cynical, harsh reply, a copy of which I have seen--for all these details came out in the course of the inquest. He bade his son come to call upon him, and judge from his style of living whether he was in a condition to comply with his request. He appointed a day and an hour--about five o'clock. It was in December, and quite dark of course by that time. At six o'clock on the appointed day, Sir Ma.s.singberd--for he had got his t.i.tle by that time, whether he knew it or not--called at the police-station near Bedford Place, and gave information that the house which his father occupied was shut up, and that he could not obtain admittance, although he had arrived there by appointment. The house was always shut up they told him, although not untenanted; they could not explain why his summons had not been answered. A couple of policemen accompanied him to break open the door.

While they were thus engaged, a dog howled at them from inside. My uncle had made no mention of having heard this before. There was only one lock to force, the door being neither bolted nor chained, and they soon got in. The only two furnished rooms in the house opened upon the hall. In the sleeping room they found my grandfather dressed, but lying on the bed quite dead--suffocated, as the surgeons subsequently averred. In the sitting-room, with which it communicated, they found this dog here, crouching on the top of the mantel-piece, which was very lofty. How he got there, n.o.body could tell; if he leaped thither, even from a chair, it must have been in an agony of terror. He was whining pitifully when they entered; but upon seeing my uncle, he ceased to whimper, and absolutely seemed to shrink into himself with fear. Poor Gr.i.m.j.a.w could give no witness at the inquest, however; so the jury returned an open verdict. It was probable that Sir Wentworth had had a fit of apoplexy, which carried him off."