Gladys, the Reaper Part 21

'Oh! there is not much to tell,' says Owen, 'and I won't tell that unless father promises to keep his lecture till to-morrow. I hate a sermon late at night, but don't so much mind it in the morning. Don't look so serious, mother; I don't mean a clerical preachment. Do you promise, father?'

'Well, there, as you like,' said Mr Prothero, laughing? 'but I wish you hadn't made me break my s.h.i.+n.'

'Here's a patch of diaculum, father. I hope you have not really hurt yourself?'

'No, wild goose. Now, let's have the story.'

'Well, here goes. Since this time twelvemonth I have been a voyage to Australia and back: seen Sydney and Botany Bay, and my brethren the convicts; done a little in the mercantile way: speculated in gin and 'baccy on my own account, and helped the captain. Came home as first mate of the 'Fair Weather,' and had enough of tailoring in the worst voyage I ever made. We were almost wrecked more than once, and almost starved for the last month, owing to the time the leaky old hulk took in the voyage. When we landed in Plymouth we had a spree, as you may suppose, and soon spent most of our money. I and a messmate were to travel together as far as Swansea, so we just saved money enough to pay our way, and enjoyed ourselves with the rest; but, as ill luck would have it, we fell in with a poor Welsh woman, who had come to Plymouth in the hope of meeting her husband, and being disappointed, and having spent all her money, she didn't know how to get back to her home again.

Of course we couldn't leave a fellow-countrywoman in distress, so we gave her what we had: enough to pay her journey home, and a few s.h.i.+llings over. We then sold some of our clothes, and stumbling upon a man with this old box in his arms, we bargained with him, and bought it for twelve s.h.i.+llings. He wanted a pound, but we beat him down.

'Having thus a fortune in our possession we set out with our peep-show, and thought of getting interest for our money. We have been about three weeks journeying from place to place; and I a.s.sure you we have seen a good deal of life. We unfortunately spent the interest of our fortune as it came in; but, as you will perceive, I have brought the whole capital home with me. When we entered a town on a fair or market-day, we made a great deal of money, but then the temptations to spend were all the greater. I used to have all the labour of the imagination, for my friend Jack Jenkins had not the gift of eloquence; so we agreed that I should be showman, and he porter--a division of work that we thought quite fair. When we arrived at Swansea I gave him all the money we had in hand, and he resigned the peep-show to me, and so we parted company; he to go to his friends in Glamorgans.h.i.+re, I to come on here.

'I had a rare lark on my way home. I went to uncle's, and finding aunt in the garden, slouched my hat over my face, and began my story. She ordered me off the premises instantly as a vagrant. I went round to the back door and got a penny a-piece from the servants, who were quite delighted. Then I met uncle, and telling him that I had a wonderful box of antiques to exhibit, he gave me sixpence, and with great curiosity poked his proboscis against the gla.s.s. It was worth something to see him. I at once put a picture of Stonehenge, and afterwards one of Herculaneum into the box, that I had bought on purpose for his benefit.

I went through the history of the Druids, and managed a touch of Garn Goch and the Welsh castles with a strong and masterly nasal, that so delighted the worthy vicar, that he actually invited me in to see his museum. I excused myself by saying that my wife was waiting for me--mother, that was my only fib, I a.s.sure you--and hastened away, lest in his delight at finding an itinerant archaeologist, he should ask my wife to see his museum as well. The rest of my adventures you had the honour and glory of sharing, so I must beg to say they are at an end.

And now I am really and truly and soberly come to settle at home for the remainder of my days, and to become a farmer in good earnest if father will take me into partners.h.i.+p. The two things I like best in the world are, the rolling sea by moonlight and a field of golden corn in broad suns.h.i.+ne, of a fine day in autumn.'

'Oh, you naughty boy!' cried Netta, as Owen ended his story.

'A fine st.u.r.dy farmer you would make,' said Mr Prothero, trying to stifle a very hearty fit of laughter, that burst out at last in spite of himself. 'I'm glad you took in brother Jonathan, or he'd have had the laugh against me.'

Mrs Prothero had a tear in her eye as she smiled sadly, and shook her head at the darling son who had caused her nothing but love and grief since he was born; but the tear was soon kissed away, and the smile turned into a cheerful one by that son's merry lips.

CHAPTER XII.

THE SEMPSTRESS.

Owen Prothero, like his sister Netta, had been very much spoilt by his father during his childhood and boyhood. Indeed it would have been difficult not to have spoilt him. Handsome in person, and frank in manners, he was a general favourite. His uncle, the vicar, quite idolised him, and would have lavished a fortune on his education had he been of a studious nature. His mother, alone, conscious of his many faults, strove to correct them, and to counterbalance the undue admiration he received on all sides, by impartial justice in her praises and reproofs.

But we have not much to do with his boyhood, which was wild and untameable; beyond the fact that, when sent by his good uncle to Rugby with a view to his becoming a clergyman, he resolutely declared his intention of going to sea, and ran away from school to effect his purpose. He was captured, however by the masters, and a sharp look-out kept upon him for the future, which prevented further escapades.

He did not make brilliant progress in his studies, though he was clever enough, and accordingly his aunt persuaded her vicar to adopt her favourite nephew, Rowland, in his stead, and to let Owen go a voyage or two in a merchant vessel, to cure him of his love for a seafaring life.

It was Mr Prothero's wish to have one of his two sons a farmer, he did not much care which, so it was with some difficulty that Aunt Jonathan induced him to listen to her proposal of making a clergyman of Rowland.

He yielded at last, however, in the hope that when Owen had had enough of the sea, he would come and settle at home, since, next to this, his favourite hobby, he professed to like farming.

Owen was about fifteen when he first went to sea--he was just seven-and-twenty when he came home with the peep-show. During the intermediate twelve years he had been all over the world: not merely as a sailor, but as an adventurer, traveller, speculator, merchant, and wandering Jack-of-all trades. As quickly as he made money, so he lost it, spent it, or gave it away; and when he had no other resource, he worked as a common sailor, or labourer, until some lucky chance opened a pa.s.sage for some fresh excitement. There is this to be said in his favour. During this long period he was never chargeable to his father in any way. If he got into difficulties, he got out of them pretty easily: if he was in want of bread, which had been frequently the case, his friends at home knew nothing of it. Beyond the regular new outfit, in the way of clothes, that his mother made for him each time that he returned home, he had never had anything from his parents, and resolutely refused it if offered. Always cheerful, hopeful, in high spirits, open as the day, affectionate, and attractive, he was a welcome guest wherever he went. Did he come home in rags, or as now, with a peep-show in his arms, or as once before, with a hurdy-gurdy and monkey, all his old friends made merry, and gave parties in his honour.

And whatever the state of his wardrobe or exchequer, he was sure to be in the fields the following day, reaping, hay-making, ploughing, sowing, or even milking, as either of these, or similar avocations, came in his way. n.o.body could be angry with him, and his father's lectures, and his brother's reasonings all melted away before the row of white teeth that he was for ever displaying in his joyous laughter.

Of middle height, athletic, sunburnt--with hands almost as brown as his merry brown eyes--with black, long, curly hair, a bushy beard, and plenty of whiskers, a bronze neck from which, in sailor fas.h.i.+on, the blue and white s.h.i.+rt-collar receded--and a broad forehead, showing all kinds of b.u.mps, particularly those of locality over the bushy black eyebrows--Owen Prothero was as fine a type of an English sailor as could be found the broad seas over.

He was in the habit of falling desperately in love with at least one out of every five or six girls that came in his way, and of making frightful havoc in the hearts of females of all ranks and ages. Netta's general inquiry was,--'Well, Owen, who is the last new love?' to which Owen would gravely reply, by a recapitulation of the charms of some fair damsel on whom his affections would be for ever fixed, could he only afford to marry. All his beauties had bright eyes, bright complexions, mirthful smiles, and were very 'jolly,' which seemed to be the word including all that was necessary to make a woman charming in his eyes.

'So, Netta, Howel has come into a fine fortune!' he began one morning, when he and his sister were alone together. 'I suppose he won't think of little cousin Netta now?'

'Oh! indeed,' was Netta's reply with a toss of the head.

'I wish he was here now. He is a fine fellow in his way. I do like Howel.'

'I knew you would say so,' exclaimed Netta. 'You are a kind, dear brother. They are all turned against him, even mother, who can take in the sc.u.m of the earth, and make much of a wretched Irish beggar, and will not ask Howel here, who is a gentleman,'

'Oh! oh! that's the way the wind blows. So you do not forget cousin Howel, Miss Netta.'

'No, I a.s.sure you; and I won't forget him, that's more.'

'Bravo! Netta. I admire a girl of spirit. But, perhaps now he is so rich he will not think of you.'

'I suppose that depends upon whether I choose to think of him. They say he is coming down soon, and that he will be the grandest man in the county.'

What Netta had heard rumoured came to pa.s.s in due time, Mr Howel Jenkins did come from London, and established himself in the best hotel of his native town, throwing out hints as to the probability of his taking a certain beautiful park in the neighbourhood. He was soon supplied with the best horses, dogs, and general appointments of any man in the county; and being really clever, handsome, and sufficiently gentleman like, had made his way into society that had hitherto been closed to him. Like Prince Hal, he eschewed most of his former companions and appeared to be beginning life anew, in a new world. The country rang with rumours of his enormous wealth, which, considerable as it was, report nearly doubled. Indeed he himself scarcely knew what he was worth, as he was continually finding memorandums of moneys out at high interest, of which his father had not chosen to speak to Rowland, but which his carefully secreted books and papers proved, as well as the knowledge of Mr Rice Rice, who had been his attorney.

In the course of the autumn the Irish girl was quite convalescent and, although not strong, had recovered from the fever, and was regaining some degree of health. As she was such a clever sempstress, even Netta did not object to a proposal made by Mrs Prothero, that she should remain as a work-girl, at least until Owen's wardrobe was in a decent condition; and she was accordingly installed in a small room, half lumber-room, half work-room, as s.h.i.+rt-maker in ordinary to the son and heir. He was restored to his own bedroom, and, together, with his father kept at a distance from the bone of contention.

However, adverse elements cannot always be kept apart, and one day when Mrs Prothero was sitting st.i.tching wrist-bands with Gladys, her better half made his appearance suddenly in the room.

'Mother, I have been hunting you out all over the house,' he exclaimed?

'I have torn the sleeve of my coat from top to bottom in that confounded hedge.'

As he took off his coat and displayed the tear, he perceived Gladys, who had risen from her work, and curtseyed very timidly and profoundly. Mr Prothero had almost forgotten the Irish beggar, and certainly did not suppose the tidy-looking, pale, tall girl before him to be her.

'Oh, young 'ooman, I daresay you can do this job for me. You've got a new manty-maker, mother; where's Jane Morris, name o' goodness?'

'We're only making s.h.i.+rts for Owen, father,' replied the wife meekly, dreading an outburst.

Gladys took up the coat and was instantly engaged in mending it, whilst Mr Prothero produced a letter just received from Rowland.

'There, my dear, now you ought to be satisfied, and I am sure Mrs Jonathan will be as proud as Punch. Rowland has been ordained by the Bishop of London himself, and "pa.s.sed a very good examination," or whatever they call it. He has taken lodgings up in London, and preached his first sermon in a great church that 'ould hold three of ours. He has dined with the rector, and been to call on Sir Philip Payne Perry,--the three green peas as Owen calls him--and I wonder what even Mrs Jonathan 'ould desire more?'

Mrs Prothero read, her dear son's letter with tears in her eyes, the sudden sight of which caused sympathetic tears to flow from the eyes of the poor work-girl, much to the surprise of Mr Prothero, who chanced to look round to see whether his coat was finished.

'Hang the 'oomen,' he muttered to himself, 'they can't read a bit of a letter without blubbing. How long will that take you to do?--what's your name?'

'Gladys, if you please, sir,' said Gladys, looking up from her work. 'I shall have finished it directly, sir.'

'Gladys? Gladys what?' asked Mr Prothero.

'Gladys O'Grady, sir,' was the reply whilst the mending was coming to a close.

'Where on earth did you pick up such names as that?'

'One was my mother's, and the other my father's, sir,' said Gladys, rising and presenting the coat with a deep curtsey.

Mrs Prothero was absorbed in her letter.