Фредерик Марриет
The Children of the New Forest
Edward took up the letter in which the Parliament informed Mr. Heatherstone that his application to the property of Arnwood had been acceded to, and signed by the commissioners; and that he might take immediate possession. Edward turned pale as he laid the document down on the table.
"We will ride to-morrow, Edward, and look it over. I intend to rebuild the house."
Edward made no reply.
"Are you not well?" said the intendant, with surprise.
"Yes, sir," replied Edward, "I am well, I believe; but I confess to you that I am disappointed. I did not think that you would have accepted a property from such a source, and so unjustly sequestrated."
"I am sorry, Edward," replied the intendant, "that I should have fallen in your good opinion; but allow me to observe that you are so far right that I never would have accepted a property to which there were living claimants; but this is a different case. For instance, the Ratcliffe property belongs to little Clara, and is sequestrated. Do you think I would accept it? Never! But here is property without an heir; the whole family perished in the flames of Arnwood! There is no living claimant! It must be given to somebody, or remain with the government. This property, therefore, and this property only, out of all sequestrated, I selected, as I felt that, in obtaining it, I did harm to no one. I have been offered others, but have refused them. I would accept of this, and this only; and that is the reason why my applications have hitherto been attended with no success. I trust you believe me, Edward, in what I assert?"
"First answer me one question, Mr. Heatherstone. Suppose it were proved that the whole of the family did not, as it is supposed, perish at the conflagration of Arnwood? Suppose a rightful heir to it should at any time appear, would you then resign the property to him?"
"As I hope for Heaven, Edward, I would!" replied the intendant, solemnly raising his eyes upward as he spoke. "I then should think that I had been an instrument to keep the property out of other hands less scrupulous, and should surrender it as a trust which had been confided to me for the time only."
"With such feelings, Mr. Heatherstone, I can now congratulate you upon your having obtained possession of the property," replied Edward.
"And yet I do not deserve so much credit, as there is little chance of my sincerity being put to the test, Edward. There is no doubt that the family all perished; and Arnwood will become the dower of Patience Heatherstone."
Edward's heart beat quick. A moment's thought told him his situation. He had been prevented, by the interruption of Mr. Heatherstone, from making his confession to Patience; and now he could not make it to any body without a rupture with the intendant, or a compromise, by asking what he so earnestly desired—the hand of Patience. Mr. Heatherstone observing to Edward that he did not look well, said supper was ready, and that they had better go into the next room. Edward mechanically followed. At supper he was tormented by the incessant inquiries of Clara, as to what was the matter with him. He did not venture to look at Patience, and made a hasty retreat to bed, complaining, as he might well do, of a severe headache.
Edward threw himself on his bed, but to sleep was impossible. He thought of the events of the day over and over again. Had he any reason to believe that Patience returned his affection? No; her reply was too calm, too composed to make him suppose that; and now that she would be an heiress, there would be no want of pretenders to her hand; and he would lose her and his property at the same time. It was true that the intendant had declared that he would renounce the property if the true heir appeared, but that was easy to say upon the conviction that no heir would appear; and even if he did renounce it, the Parliament would receive it again rather than it should fall into the hands of a Beverley. "Oh that I had never left the cottage!" thought Edward. "I might then, at least, have become resigned and contented with my lot. Now I am miserable, and, whichever way I turn, I see no prospect of being otherwise. One thing only I can decide upon, which is, that I will not remain any longer than I can help under this roof. I will go over and consult with Humphrey; and if I can only place my sisters as I want, Humphrey and I will seek our fortunes."
Edward rose at daylight, and, dressing himself, went down and saddled his horse. Desiring Sampson to tell the intendant that he had gone over to the cottage and would return by the evening, he rode across the forest, and arrived just as they were sitting down to breakfast. His attempts to be cheerful before his sisters did not succeed, and they were all grieved to see him look so pale and haggard. As soon as breakfast was over, Edward made a sign, and he and Humphrey went out.
"What is the matter, my dear brother?" said Humphrey.
"I will tell you all. Listen to me," replied Edward, who then gave him the detail of all that had passed from the time he had walked out with Patience Heatherstone till he went to bed. "Now, Humphrey, you know all; and what shall I do? remain there I can not!"
"If Patience Heatherstone had professed regard for you," replied Humphrey, "the affair had been simple enough. Her father could have no objections to the match; and he would at the same time have acquitted his conscience as to the retaining of the property: but you say she showed none."
"She told me very calmly that she was sorry that I had said what I did."
"But do women always mean what they say, brother?" said Humphrey.
"She does, at all events," replied Edward; "she is truth itself. No, I can not deceive myself. She feels a deep debt of gratitude for the service I rendered her; and that prevented her from being more harsh in her reply than what she was."
"But if she knew that you were Edward Beverley, do you not think it would make a difference in her?"
"And if it did, it would be too humiliating to think that I was only married for my rank and station."
"But, considering you of mean birth, may she not have checked those feelings which she considered under the circumstances improper to indulge?"
"Where there is such a sense of propriety there can be little affection."
"I know nothing about these things, Edward," replied Humphrey; "but I have been told that a woman's heart is not easily read; or if I have not been told it, I have read it or dreamed it."
"What do you propose to do?"
"What I fear you will not approve of, Humphrey; it is to break up our establishment altogether. If the answer is favorable from the Misses Conynghame my sisters shall go to them; but that we had agreed upon already. Then for myself—I intend to go abroad, resume my name, and obtain employment in some foreign service. I will trust to the king for assisting me to that."
"That is the worst part of it, Edward; but if your peace of mind depends upon it, I will not oppose it."
"You, Humphrey, may come with me and share my fortunes, or do what you think more preferable."
"I think then, Edward, that I shall not decide rashly. I must have remained here with Pablo if my sisters had gone to the Ladies Conynghame and you had remained with the intendant; I shall, therefore, till I hear from you, remain where I am, and shall be able to observe what is going on here, and let you know."
"Be it so," replied Edward; "let me only see my sisters well placed, and I shall be off the next day. It is misery to remain there now."
After some more conversation, Edward mounted his horse and returned to the intendant's. He did not arrive till late, for supper was on the table. The intendant gave him a letter for Mr. Chaloner, which was inclosed in one from Mr. Langton; and further informed Edward that news had arrived of the king having made his escape to France.
"Thank God for that!" exclaimed Edward. "With your leave, sir, I will to-morrow deliver this letter to the party to whom it is addressed, as I know it to be of consequence."
The intendant having given his consent, Edward retired without having exchanged a word with Patience or Clara beyond the usual civilities of the table.
The following morning, Edward, who had not slept an hour during the night, set off for Clara's cottage, and found Chaloner and Grenville still in bed. At the sound of his voice the door was opened, and he gave Chaloner the letter; the latter read it and then handed it to Edward. The Misses Conynghame were delighted at the idea of receiving the two daughters of Colonel Beverley, and would treat them as their own; they requested that they might be sent to London immediately, where the coach would meet them to convey them down to Lancashire. They begged to be kindly remembered to Captain Beverley, and to assure him that his sisters should be well cared for.
"I am much indebted to you, Chaloner," said Edward; "I will send my brother off with my sisters as soon as possible. You will soon think of returning to France; and if you will permit me, I will accompany you."
"You, Edward! that will be delightful; but you had no idea of the kind when last we met. What has induced you to alter your mind?"
"I will tell you by-and-by; I do not think I shall be here again for some days. I must be a great deal at the cottage when Humphrey is away, for Pablo will have a great charge upon him—what with the dairy, and horses, and breed of goats, and other things—more than he can attend to; but as soon as Humphrey returns, I will come to you and make preparations for our departure. Till then, farewell, both of you. We must see to provision you for three weeks or a month, before Humphrey starts."
Edward bade them a hearty farewell, and then rode to the cottage.
Although Alice and Edith had been somewhat prepared for leaving the cottage, yet the time was so very uncertain, that the blow fell heavy upon them. They were to leave their brothers whom they loved so dearly, to go to strangers; and when they understood that they were to leave in two days, and that they should not see Edward again, their grief was very great; but Edward reasoned with Alice and consoled her, although with Edith it was a more difficult task. She not only lamented her brothers, but her cow, her pony, and her kids; all the dumb animals were friends and favorites of Edith; and even the idea of parting with Pablo, was the cause of a fresh burst of tears. Having made every arrangement with Humphrey, Edward once more took his leave, promising to come over and assist Pablo as soon as he could.
The next day Humphrey was busied in his preparations. They supplied the provisions to Clara's cottage; and when Pablo took them over in the cart, Humphrey rode to Lymington and provided a conveyance to London for the following day. We may as well observe, that they set off at the hour appointed, and arrived safely at London in three days. There, at an address given in a letter, they found the coach waiting; and having given his sisters into the charge of an elderly waiting-woman, who had come up in the coach to take charge of them, they quitted him with many tears, and Humphrey hastened back to the New Forest.
On his return, he found to his surprise that Edward had not called at the cottage as he had promised; and with a mind foreboding evil, he mounted a horse and set off across the forest to ascertain the cause. As he was close to the intendant's house he was met by Oswald, who informed him that Edward had been seized with a violent fever, and was in a very dangerous state, having been delirious for three or four days.
Humphrey hastened to dismount, and knocked at the door of the house; it was opened by Sampson, and Humphrey requested to be shown up to his brother's room. He found Edward in the state described by Oswald, and wholly unconscious of his presence; the maid, Phoebe, was by his bedside.
"You may leave," said Humphrey, rather abruptly; "I am his brother."
Phoebe retired, and Humphrey was alone with his brother.
"It was, indeed, an unhappy day when you came to this house," exclaimed Humphrey, as the tears rolled down his cheeks; "my poor, poor Edward!"
Edward now began to talk incoherently, and attempted to rise from the bed, but his efforts were unavailing—he was too weak; but he raved of Patience Heatherstone, and he called himself Edward Beverley more than once, and he talked of his father and of Arnwood.
"If he has raved in this manner," thought Humphrey, "he has not many secrets left to disclose. I will not leave him, and will keep others away if I can."
Humphrey had been sitting an hour with his brother, when the surgeon came to see his patient. He felt his pulse, and asked Humphrey if he was nursing him.
"I am his brother, sir," replied Humphrey.
"Then, my good sir, if you perceive any signs of perspiration—and I think now that there is a little—keep the clothes on him and let him perspire freely. If so, his life will be saved."
The surgeon withdrew, saying that he would return again late in the evening.
Humphrey remained for another two hours at the bedside, and then feeling that there was a sign of perspiration, he obeyed the injunctions of the surgeon, and held on the clothes against all Edward's endeavors to throw them off. For a short time the perspiration was profuse, and the restlessness of Edward subsided into a deep slumber.
"Thank Heaven! there are then hopes."
"Did you say there were hopes?" repeated a voice behind him.
Humphrey turned round and perceived Patience and Clara behind him, who had come in without his observing it.
"Yes," replied Humphrey, looking reproachfully at Patience, "there are hopes, by what the surgeon said to me—hopes that he may yet be able to quit this house which he was so unfortunate as to enter."
This was a harsh and rude speech of Humphrey; but he considered that Patience Heatherstone had been the cause of his brother's dangerous state, and that she had not behaved well to him.
Patience made no reply, but falling down on her knees by the bedside, prayed silently; and Humphrey's heart smote him for what he had said to her. "She can not be so bad," thought Humphrey, as Patience and Clara quitted the room without the least noise.
Shortly afterward the intendant came up into the room and offered his hand to Humphrey, who pretended not to see it, and did not take it.
"He has got Arnwood: that is enough for him," thought Humphrey; "but my hand in friendship he shall not receive."
The intendant put his hand within the clothes, and feeling the high perspiration that Edward was in, said—
"I thank thee, O God! for all thy mercies, and that thou hast been pleased to spare this valuable life. How are your sisters, Master Humphrey?" said the intendant; "my daughter bade me inquire. I will send over to them and let them know that your brother is better, if you do not leave this for the cottage yourself after the surgeon has called again."
"My sisters are no longer at the cottage, Master Heatherstone," replied Humphrey; "they have gone to some friends who have taken charge of them. I saw them safe to London myself, or I should have known of my brother's illness and have been here before this."
"You indeed tell me news, Master Humphrey," replied the intendant. "With whom, may I ask, are your sisters placed, and in what capacity are they gone?"
This reply of the intendant's reminded Humphrey that he had somewhat committed himself, as, being supposed to be the daughters of a forester, it was not to be thought that they had gone up to be educated; and he therefore replied—
"They found it lonely in the forest, Master Heatherstone, and wished to see London; so we have taken them there, and put them into the care of those who have promised that they shall be well placed."
The intendant appeared to be much disturbed and surprised, but he said nothing, and soon afterward quitted the room. He almost immediately returned with the surgeon, who, as soon as he felt Edward's pulse, declared that the crisis was over, and that when he awoke he would be quite sensible. Having given directions as to the drink of his patient, and some medicine which he was to take, the surgeon then left, stating that he should not call until the next evening, unless he was sent for, as he considered all danger over.
Edward continued in a quiet slumber for the major portion of the night. It was just break of day when he opened his eyes. Humphrey offered him some drink, which Edward took greedily; and seeing Humphrey, said—
"Oh, Humphrey, I had quite forgotten where I was—I'm so sleepy!" and with these words his head fell on the pillow, and he was again asleep.
When it was broad daylight, Oswald came into the room:
"Master Humphrey, they say that all danger is over now, but that you have remained here all night. I will relieve you now if you will let me. Go and take a walk in the fresh air—it will revive you."
"I will, Oswald, and many thanks. My brother has woke up once, and, I thank God, is quite sensible. He will know you when he wakes again, and then do you send for me."
Humphrey left the room, and was glad, after a night of close confinement in a sick-room, to feel the cool morning air fanning his cheeks. He had not been long out of the house before he perceived Clara coming toward him.
"How d'ye do, Humphrey?" said Clara; "and how is your brother this morning?"
"He is better, Clara, and I hope now out of danger."
"But, Humphrey," continued Clara, "when we came into the room last night, what made you say what you did?"
"I do not recollect that I said any thing."
"Yes, you did; you said that there were now hopes that your brother would be able soon to quit this house which he had been so unfortunate as to enter. Do you recollect?"
"I may have said so, Clara," replied Humphrey; "it was only speaking my thoughts aloud."
"But why do you think so, Humphrey? Why has Edward been unfortunate in entering this house? That is what I want to know. Patience cried so much after she left the room because you said that. Why did you say so? You did not think so a short time ago."
"No, my dear Clara, I did not, but I do now, and I can not give you my reasons; so you must say no more about it."
Clara was silent for a time, and then said—
"Patience tells me that your sisters have gone away from the cottage.
You told her father so."
"It is very true; they have gone."
"But why have they gone? What have they gone for? Who is to look after the cows, and goats, and poultry? Who is to cook your dinner, Humphrey? What can you do without them, and why did you send them away without letting me or Patience know that they were going, so that at least we might have bid them farewell?"
"My dear Clara," replied Humphrey—who, feeling no little difficulty in replying to all these questions, resolved to cut the matter short, by appearing to be angry—"you know that you are the daughter of a gentleman, and so is Patience Heatherstone. You are both of gentle birth, but my sisters, you know, are only the daughters of a forester, and my brother Edward and I are no better. It does not become Mistress Patience and you to be intimate with such as we are, especially now that Mistress Patience is a great heiress; for her father has obtained the large property of Arnwood, and it will be hers after his death. It is not fit that the heiress of Arnwood should mix herself up with foresters' daughters; and as we had friends near Lymington, who offered to assist us, and take our sisters under their charge, we thought it better that they should go; for what would become of them, if any accident was to happen to Edward or to me? Now they will be provided for. After they have been taught, they will make very nice tirewomen to some lady of quality," added Humphrey, with a sneer. "Don't you think they will, my pretty Clara?"
Clara burst into tears.
"You are very unkind, Humphrey," sobbed she. "You had no right to send away your sisters. I don't believe you—that's more!" and Clara ran away into the house.
CHAPTER XXVI
Our readers may think that Humphrey was very unkind, but it was to avoid being questioned by Clara, who was evidently sent for the purpose, that he was so harsh. At the same time it must be admitted, that Mr. Heatherstone having obtained possession of Arnwood, rankled, no doubt, in the minds of both the brothers, and every act now, on the part of him or his family, was viewed in a false medium. But our feelings are not always at our control, and Edward was naturally impetuous, and Humphrey so much attached, and so much alarmed at his brother's danger, that he was even more excited. The blow fell doubly heavy, as it appeared that at the very same time Patience had rejected his brother, and taken possession of their property, which had been held by the family for centuries. What made the case more annoying was, that explanation, if there was any to offer on either side, was, under present circumstances, almost impossible.
Soon after Clara left him, Humphrey returned to his brother's room. He found him awake and talking to Oswald. Ardently pressing his brother's hand, Edward said—
"My dear Humphrey, I shall soon be well now, and able, I trust, to quit this house. What I fear is, that some explanation will be asked for by the intendant, not only relative to my sisters having left us, but also upon other points. This is what I wish to avoid without giving offense. I do not think that the intendant is so much to blame in having obtained my property, as he does not know that a Beverley existed; but I can not bear to have any further intimacy with him, especially after what has taken place between me and his daughter. What I have to request is, that you will never quit this room while I am still here unless you are relieved by Oswald; so that the intendant or any body else may have no opportunity of having any private communication with me, or forcing me to listen to what they may have to say. I made this known to Oswald before you came in."
"Depend upon it, it shall be so, Edward, for I am of your opinion. Clara came to me just now, and I had much trouble, and was compelled to be harsh, to get rid of her importunity."
When the surgeon called, he pronounced Edward out of danger, and that his attendance would be no longer necessary. Edward felt the truth of this. All that he required was strength; and that he trusted in a few days to obtain.
Oswald was sent over to the cottage, to ascertain how Pablo was going on by himself. He found that every thing was correct, and that Pablo, although he felt proud of his responsibility, was very anxious for Humphrey's return, as he found himself very lonely. During Oswald's absence on this day, Humphrey never quitted the room; and although the intendant came up several times, he never could find an opportunity of speaking to Edward, which he evidently wished to do.
To the inquiries made as to how he was, Edward always complained of great weakness, for a reason which will soon be understood. Several days elapsed, and Edward had often been out of bed during the night, when not likely to be intruded upon, and he now felt himself strong enough to be removed; and his object was to leave the intendant's house without his knowledge, so as to avoid an explanation.
One evening Pablo came over with the horses after it was dark. Oswald put them into the stable; and the morning proving fine and clear, a little before break of day, Edward came softly down stairs with Humphrey, and, mounting the horses, set off for the cottage, without any one in the intendant's house being aware of their departure.
It must not be supposed, however, that Edward took this step without some degree of consideration as to the feelings of the intendant. On the contrary, he left a letter with Oswald, to be delivered after his departure, in which he thanked the intendant sincerely for all the kindness and compassion he had shown toward him; assured him of his gratitude and kind feelings toward him and his daughter, but said that circumstances had occurred, of which no explanation could be given without great pain to all parties, which rendered it advisable that he should take such an apparently unkind step as to leave without bidding them farewell in person; that he was about to embark immediately for the Continent, to seek his fortune in the wars; and that he wished all prosperity to the family, which would ever have his kindest wishes and remembrances.
"Humphrey," said Edward, after they had ridden about two miles across the forest, and the sun had risen in an unclouded sky, "I feel like an emancipated slave. Thank God! my sickness has cured me of all my complaints, and all I want now is active employment. And now, Humphrey, Chaloner and Grenville are not a little tired of being mured up in the cottage, and I am as anxious as they are to be off. What will you do? Will you join us, or will you remain at the cottage?"
"I have reflected upon it, Edward, and I have come to the determination of remaining at the cottage. You will find it expensive enough to support one where you are going, and you must appear as a Beverley should do. We have plenty of money saved to equip you, and maintain you well for a year or so, but after that you may require more. Leave me here. I can make money now that the farm is well stocked; and I have no doubt that I shall be able to send over a trifle every year, to support the honor of the family. Besides, I do not wish to leave this for another reason. I want to know what is going on, and watch the motions of the intendant and the heiress of Arnwood. I also do not wish to leave the country until I know how my sisters get on with the Ladies Conynghame: it is my duty to watch over them. I have made up my mind, so do not attempt to dissuade me."
"I shall not, my dear Humphrey, as I think you have decided properly; but I beg you will not think of laying by money for me-a very little will suffice for my wants."
"Not so, good brother; you must and shall, if I can help you, ruffle it with the best. You will be better received if you do; for, though poverty is no sin, as the saying is, it is scouted as sin should be, while sins are winked at. You know that I require no money, and, therefore, you must and shall, if you love me, take it all."
"As you will, my dear Humphrey. Now then, let us put our horses to speed, for, if possible, we will, to-morrow morning, leave the forest."
By this time all search for the fugitives from Worcester had long been over, and there was no difficulty in obtaining the means of embarkation. Early the next morning every thing was ready, and Edward, Humphrey, Chaloner, Grenville, and Pablo set off for Southampton, one of the horses carrying the little baggage which they had with them. Edward, as we have before mentioned, with the money he had saved, and the store at the cottage, which had been greatly increased, was well supplied with cash; and that evening they embarked, with their horses, in a small sailing vessel, and, with a favorable, light wind, arrived at a small port of France on the following day. Humphrey and Pablo returned to the cottage, we need hardly now say, very much out of spirits at the separation.
"Oh, Massa Humphrey," said Pablo, as they rode along, "Missy Alice and Missy Edith go away-I wish go with them. Massa Edward go away—I wish go with him. You stay at cottage—I wish stay with you. Pablo can not be in three places."
"No, Pablo; all you can do is to stay where you can be most useful."
"Yes, I know that. You want me at cottage very much. Missy Alice and Edith and Massa Edward no want me, so I stay at cottage."
"Yes, Pablo, we will stay at the cottage, but we can't do every thing now. I think we must give up the dairy, now that my sisters are gone. I'll tell you what I have been thinking of, Pablo. We will make a large inclosed place, to coax the ponies into during the winter, pick out as many as we think are good, and sell them at Lymington. That will be better than churning butter."
"Yes, I see; plenty of work for Pablo."
"And plenty for me, too, Pablo; but you know when the inclosure is once made it will last for a long while; and we will get the wild cattle into it if we can."
"Yes, I see," said Pablo. "I like that very much; only not like trouble to build place."
"We shan't have much trouble, Pablo; if we fell the trees inside the wood at each side, and let them lie one upon the other, the animals will never break through them."
"That very good idea—save trouble," said Pablo. "And what you do with cows, suppose no make butter?"
"Keep them, and sell their calves; keep them to entice the wild cattle into the pen."
"Yes, that good. And turn out old Billy to 'tice ponies into pen," continued Pablo, laughing.
"Yes, we will try it."
We must now return to the intendant's house. Oswald delivered the letter to the intendant, who read it with much astonishment.
"Gone! is he actually gone?" said Mr. Heatherstone.
"Yes, sir, before daylight this morning."
"And why was I not informed of it?" said Mr. Heatherstone; "why have you been a party to this proceeding, being my servant?—may I inquire that?"
"I knew Master Edward before I knew you, sir," replied Oswald.
"Then you had better follow him," rejoined the intendant, in an angry tone.
"Very well, sir," replied Oswald, who quitted the room.
"Good Heaven! how all my plans have been frustrated!" exclaimed the intendant, when he was alone. He then read the letter over more carefully than he had done at first. "'Circumstances had occurred of which no explanation could be given by him.' I do not comprehend that—I must see Patience."
Mr. Heatherstone opened the door, and called to his daughter.
"Patience," said Mr. Heatherstone, "Edward has left the house this morning; here is a letter which he has written to me. Read it, and let me know if you can explain some portion of it, which to me is incomprehensible. Sit down and read it attentively."
Patience, who was much agitated, gladly took the seat and perused Edward's letter. When she had done so, she let it drop in her lap and covered all her face, the tears trickling through her fingers. After a time, the intendant said,
