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"It is only lately that I have known either;--but they seem to me to be so different. Is not that a wonderfully beautiful picture, Mr.
Newton? Can't, you almost fancy yourself sitting down and throwing stones into the river, or dabbling your feet in it?"
"It is very pretty," said he, not caring a penny for the picture.
"Have you any river at Beamingham?"
"There's a muddy little brook that you could almost jump over. You wouldn't want to dabble in that."
"Has it got a name?"
"I think they call it the Wissey. It's not at all a river to be proud of,--except in the way of eels and water-rats."
"Is there nothing to be proud of at Beamingham?"
"There's the church tower;--that's all."
"A church tower is something;--but I meant as to Beamingham Hall."
"That word Hall misleads people," said Ralph. "It's a kind of upper-cla.s.s farm-house with a lot of low rooms, and intricate pa.s.sages, and chambers here and there, smelling of apples, and a huge kitchen, and an oven big enough for a small dinner-party."
"I should like the oven."
"And a laundry, and a dairy, and a cheese-house,--only we never make any cheese; and a horse-pond, and a dung-hill, and a cabbage-garden."
"Is that all you can say for your new purchase, Mr. Newton?"
"The house itself isn't ugly."
"Come;--that's better."
"And it might be made fairly comfortable, if there were any use in doing it."
"Of course there will be use."
"I don't know that there will," said Ralph. "Sometimes I think one thing, and sometimes another. One week I'm full of a scheme about a new garden and a conservatory, and a bow-window to the drawing-room; and then, the next week, I think that the two rooms I live in at present will be enough for me."
"Stick to the conservatory, Mr. Newton. But here are the girls, and I suppose it is about time for us to go."
"Mary, where have you been?" said Clarissa.
"Looking at landscapes," said Mary.
"Mr. Newton has shown us every picture worth seeing, and described everything, and we haven't had to look at the catalogue once. That's just what I like at the Academy. I don't know whether you've been as lucky."
"I've had a great deal described to me too," said Mary; "but I'm afraid we've forgotten the particular duty that brought us here."
Then they parted, the two men promising that they would be at the villa before long, and the girls preparing themselves for their return home.
"That cousin of theirs is certainly very beautiful," said Gregory, after some short tribute to the merits of the two sisters.
"I think she is," said Ralph.
"I do not wonder that my brother has been struck with her."
"Nor do I." Then after a pause he continued; "She said something which made me think that she and your brother haven't quite hit it off together."
"I don't know that they have," said Gregory. "Ralph does change his mind sometimes. He hasn't said a word about her to me lately."
CHAPTER L.
ANOTHER FAILURE.
The day after the meeting at the Academy, as Ralph, the young Squire, was sitting alone in his room over a late breakfast, a maid-servant belonging to the house opened the door and introduced Mr. Neefit.
It was now the middle of May, and Ralph had seen nothing of the breeches-maker since the morning on which he had made his appearance in the yard of the Moonbeam. There had been messages, and Mr. Carey had been very busy endeavouring to persuade the father that he could benefit neither himself nor his daughter by persistence in so extravagant a scheme. Money had been offered to Mr. Neefit,--most unfortunately, and this offer had added to his wrongs. And he had been told by his wife that Polly had at last decided in regard to her own affections, and had accepted her old lover, Mr. Moggs. He had raved at Polly to her face. He had sworn at Moggs behind his back. He had called Mr. Carey very hard names;--and now he forced himself once more upon the presence of the young Squire. "Captain," he said, as soon as he had carefully closed the door behind him, "are you going to be upon the square?" Newton had given special orders that Neefit should not be admitted to his presence; but here he was, having made his way into the chamber in the temporary absence of the Squire's own servant.
"Mr. Neefit," said Newton, "I cannot allow this."
"Not allow it, Captain?"
"No;--I cannot. I will not be persecuted. I have received favours from you--"
"Yes, you have, Captain."
"And I will do anything in reason to repay them."
"Will you come out and see our Polly?"
"No, I won't."
"You won't?"
"Certainly not. I don't believe your daughter wants to see me. She is engaged to another man." So much Mr. Carey had learned from Mrs.
Neefit. "I have a great regard for your daughter, but I will not go to see her."
"Engaged to another man;--is she?"
"I am told so."
"Oh;--that's your little game, is it? And you won't see me when I call,--won't you? I won't stir out of this room unless you sends for the police, and so we'll get it all into one of the courts of law. I shall just like to see how you'll look when you're being cross-hackled by one of them learned gents. There'll be a question or two about the old breeches-maker as the Squire of Newton mayn't like to see in the papers the next morning. I shall take the liberty of ringing the bell and ordering a bit of dinner here, if you don't mind. I shan't go when the police comes without a deal of row, and then we shall have it all out in the courts."
This was monstrously absurd, but at the same time very annoying.
Even though he should disregard that threat of being "cross-hackled by a learned gent," and of being afterwards made notorious in the newspapers,--which it must be confessed he did not find himself able to disregard,--still, independently of that feeling, he was very unwilling to call for brute force to remove Mr. Neefit from the arm-chair in which that worthy tradesman had seated himself. He had treated the man otherwise than as a tradesman. He had borrowed the man's money, and eaten the man's dinners; visited the man at Ramsgate, and twice offered his hand to the man's daughter. "You are very welcome to dine here," he said, "only I am sorry that I cannot dine here with you."
"I won't stir from the place for a week."