menu_book Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII. AN EMPTY PILE Although no token had passed between us, and no currency been set up, of that universal interchange which my uncle and Tabby termed courting, I felt of every large hope now, that the goods I had to offer, quiet as they were and solid, without any spangle, were on their way to be considered, and might be regarded kindly. For while I knew how poor I was,

and all the more graceful attributes, and little gifted with showy powers of discourse, or the great world's glitter, void moreover of that noble cash which covers every other fault, yet my self-respect and manhood told me that I was above contempt. Haughty maidens might according to their lights, look down upon me, let them do so. It would never hurt me, I desired no haughtiness.

That which had taken my heart and led it with no loss to its own value was sweetness, gentleness, loving-kindness, tender sense of woman's nature, and the joy of finding strength in man. For though I am not the one to say it, I knew that I was no weakling, either in body or in mind, slow of wit I had always been, and capable only of enjoying the

greater gifts of others. But as I plodded on through life I found it more and more the truth that this is the better part to have. I enjoy my laugh tenfold, because it is a thing I could never have made for myself. But for a long time yet to come there was not much laughter before me. One of the many griefs of love is that it stops the pores of humor and keeps a man clogged with earnestness. At the same time he becomes the guy, and but for all the old jokes that can be discharged by clumsy fellows below contempt.

None of these hit him to any good purpose because he is ever so far above them, but even the smell of their powder is nasty as a whiff across his incense. For eight and forty hours it was my good fortune to believe myself happy, and thereby to be so, though I went to church twice on Sunday without seeing anyone except the parson, who was very pleasant, but suddenly on Monday a few words were uttered, and I became no better than a groan.

Her began, were the words of Mrs. Tapscott. Tabby, what the devil do you mean? I asked, though not at all accustomed to strong language. I tell ye here begun. They never see her no more. Stepmortar a been down and fetched her.

Tabby herself looked fit to cry, although there was a vile kind of triumph in her eyes, because she had prophesied it. Do you mean to tell me, I asked slowly as if I were preparing to destroy her,

that Miss Fairthorn has been taken away without even saying good-bye to me? I can't tell n'art about no good-byes. Her might are left unfree, her begun to London town,

and no mistake, zed that girt coach myself with the maid a-crying in her. Without thinking properly what I was about, I clapped on a hat and laid hold of a big stick

and set forth upon the London road, not the Hampton road, which runs along the river, but the upper road from Halliford, which takes a shorter course through Twickenham.

Tabby ran after me, shouting, Be amazed, if ye could fly ye could never or get her, be gone three hour or more, I tell ye. But in spite of that fearful news I strode on, and it might have gone steadily on till I got to London, for there was the track of the wheels quite plain, the wheels of Miss Coldpepper's heavy carriage. If I had not met our Selsey Bill, the Bill Tompkins whom I may have mentioned,

My uncle had sent him to Twickenham, I think, to see about some bushel baskets, and he was swinging home with a dozen on his head, which made his columnar height some fifteen feet, for he was six and three quarters without his hat. In reply to my fervid inquiries he proceeded in a most leisurely yet impressive manner

to explain that he had not met the carriage, because it had passed him on his way to Twickenham, and might be expected back by now, as Miss Coldpepper never allowed her horses to go beyond Notting Hill Gate, whence her guests must go on other wheels into London.

I took half of his baskets, for he was too long to be strong, and so returned my uncle's gate with half a dozen empties on my head, and a heart more empty than the whole of them. This was almost a trifle compared to the grief that befell me later on, which has left its mark on me till I die,

For though cast down terribly, I was not crushed, and no miserable doubts came to rend me in twain. Though my darling was gone, I could tell where she was, or at any rate could find out in a day or two, and it was clear that she had been carried off against her will. Otherwise how could our tabby see her crying? It is a shameful and cruel thing, and of the lowest depths of selfishness to rejoice at the tears of an angel,

and I did my very utmost to melt into softest sympathy. To be certain of the need for this, I examined Mrs. Tapscott most carefully as to the evidence. I's eaten with my own eyesight. Girt big drops, she said.

The size of any hazelnuts. Reckon thee mouth be a-watering, Master Kid, for to kiss him away. This may have been true, but was not at all the proper way to express it. The only thing wrong on my part was what a lovely thrill of selfish hope ran down the veins of sympathy. She wept. She wept.

Why should she weep except at having left behind her someone whom she would most sadly miss? Could it be Miss Coldpepper? Happily that was most unlikely from the lady's character. Mrs. Marker? No, I think not.

A very decent sort of woman, but not at all absorbing. Uncle Corny? Out of the question. A highly excellent and upright man, but a hero of nails and shreds and hammers and green baize aprons and gooseberry knives. Ah, but Uncle Corny has a nephew. Kit, I am sorry for you, my boy. He came up to me as I was thinking thus, even before he went to his tobacco jar.

You are hard hit, my lad. I can see it in your face, and you shall have no more chaff from me. Very few girls such as they are now deserve that any straight and honest young chap like you should be down in the mouth about them. But your mother did, Kit. Your mother did.

And I am not sure but that this Miss Fairthorn does, though you can't judge a girl by her bonnet. But I am not going to be over-cobbed like this. If you have set your heart upon the girl and she on you, so be it. Amen.

You shall be joined together. My uncle came up as he spoke and looked with friendly intentions at me, and yet with a medical gaze and poise which inclined me to be indignant. It takes two parties to make an agreement, I said neither gratefully nor graciously. Suppose I don't know that, after all the robberies taken out of me?

But I know what I say, and I tell you, that if your mind is set upon this matter, you shall have it in your own way. Only first of all be sure that you know your mind. Few people do in this age of invention, as they call it, without inventing much except lies. If you are sure that you know your mind, speak out and have done with it.

I stood up and looked at him without a word. All my gratitude for his goodwill was lost in my wrath at his doubt of my steadfastness. Very well, he said. You need not stare as if you were thunder and lightning. When you think about it, you will see that I was right.

for this is no easy business, Kit, and not to be gone into like a toss for sixpence. I have spoiled you ever since you were a child because you had no father or no mother. You have had your own way wonderfully, and that makes it difficult for you to know your mind. If that were the only obstacle, I ought to have the finest knowledge of my mind, for the times had been very far asunder when I had been allowed to follow my own way,

But I knew that Uncle Corny took the other view, and he had this to bear him out, that he always managed that my way should be his way. It was not the time to argue out that question now, and one of my ways most sternly barred was that of going counter to him in opinion. So I only muttered that he had been very good to me. I have, he continued, and you are bound to feel it. five shillings a week you have been receiving ever since you could be trusted to lay in a tree

as well as your board and lodging and your boots and all except tailoring very well if you set up a wife you will look back with sorrow on these days of affluence but to warn you is waste of words in your present frame only i wish you to hear both sides i have no time now but if you like to come to me when I have done up my books, I will tell you a little story. This promised very readily not only to keep him on my side, but because I saw that he knew much, not generally

known in Sunbury, of the family matters which concern my love, and therefore myself, even more than my own, and, while he was busy with his books, which he kept in a fashion known only to himself, I strolled down the village in the feeble hope of picking up some tidings. It was pleasant to find, without saying much, that our neighbors felt a very keen and kind interest in our doings. There was scarcely a woman who was not ready to tell me a great deal more than she knew,

and certainly not one who did not consider me badly treated. Miss Fairthorne, by her sweet appearance and gentle manner, had made friends in every shop she entered, and the story of her sudden and compulsory departure became so unsatisfactory that deep discredit befell our two policemen, but the only new point I discovered bearing it all upon my case was gained from Widow Cuttham.

This good lady was now in bitter feud with the House of Cold Pepper, although she made it clear that the loss of her custom had nothing to do with it, being rather a benefit than otherwise. She told me with much dramatic force some anecdotes of Miss Monica, the younger daughter of Squire Nicholas, and a daughter by no means dutiful. She had married against her father's wish, the Honorable Tom Bullrag, a gambler and a drunkard and, if reports were true, a forger.

As this appears in my uncle's tale it need not have been referred to, but to show that the lady's early records were not fair among us, After impressing upon me the stern necessity of silence as to these and other facts, Mrs. Cuttham ended with a practical exhortation, dependent upon the question whether I had a spark of manhood in me. I replied that I hoped so, but as yet had few opportunities for testing it.

Then, Mr. Kitt, she proceeded with her head thrown back and one fat hand clenched, there is only one thing for you to do, to run away with a young lady. Don't stop me, if you please, Master Kit. You have no call to look as if I spoke treason. Better men than you has done it, and better young ladies has had to bear it.

This is what the Lord has ordained whenever he has made two innocent young people, and the wicked hold counsel together against them. You go home and dwell upon it. Sure as I am talking to you now, you'll be sorry till your dying day if you don't behave a little spirity.

Do you think I would ever give such advice to a wild young man with no principles, to a fellow I mean like Sam Henderson? But I know what you are well enough, and every girl in Sunbury knows. Tis not for me to praise you to your face, but you are that solid and thick-built, that a woman might trust you with her only daughter, and that makes you slow to look into women. If I may be so bold to ask, how do you take the meaning of it for that sweet Miss Kitty to be fetched home so promiscuous? Mrs. Cuttham, I answered with a penetrating look to show her that she underrated me,

I fear it must be that some mischief-maker was written up to say that I—that I—you know what I mean, Mrs. Cuttham. Yes, sir, and you means well so far, and everything's straightforward. "'But you ain't got near the heart for it, Master Kit, nor your uncle neither, I'll be bound. "'Wants a woman's wits for that. What on earth do you mean? It is bad enough. I don't see how even a woman can make it any worse than it is. Speak out what you mean, since you have begun.'

"'Well, sir, it is no more than this. You mustn't be put out by it. Suppose there is another young gent in the case. A young gent in London they means her to marry. The good-natured woman looked so knowing that I thought she must have solid proof, and perhaps the deed was done already. I tried to laugh, but could only stare and wonder what was coming next. Oh, Master Kit, she went on with her apron to her eyes, for she was kind of heart. You used to come

and play down here when your head wasn't up to the counter, and I had my cut them then, and he gave you a penny because you was so natural. Don't you be stuck on a heap like that, or I'll come and think of all women as wicked. It was only a bad thought of my own. I have nothing to go by if I were to die this minute, and the same thought might come across anyone. Don't think no more about it. There's a dear young man. Only keep your eyes open,

and if you can manage to come across that stuck-up Jenny Marker, the least she can do after saving her life is to tell you all she knows and to take your part. But don't you believe more than half, she says. I never would say a single word against her.

There's no call for that being known as she is to every true woman in Sunbury, but if she's not a double-faced gossiping hussy as fancies that gold chain makes a lady of her and very likely no gold after all, "'Why, I should deserve to be taken up,

"'and there's no one has ever said that of me.' "'Here Mrs. Cuttham began to cry "'at the thought of being taken to the station, "'and I saw that time alone would comfort her, "'yet ventured to say a few earnest words

"'about her position and high character, "'and presently she was quite brisk again. "'Why, bless my heart,' she said, "'looking about for a box of matches on the onions' shelf, "'I ought to have stuck up my candle in the window,

pretty well half an hour agone. Not that no customer comes after dark, nor many by daylight, for that matter. Ah, Master Kit, I am a poor lone widow, but you are the nicest young man in Sunbury, and I wish you well, with all my heart I do, and mind one thing, whatever you do, if you ever carries out what I was saying, here's the one as will help you do it, in a humble way, and without much money.

A nice front drawing-room over the shop, bedroom and chamber suit to match, only twelve shillings a week for it all, and the use of the kitchen fire for nothing, and the window on the landing looks on the River Thames,

and the boats and the barges and the fishermen. Oh, Mr. Kit, with Mrs. Kitty now and then, it would be like the Garden of Eden. End of Chapter 12