Lost Sir Massingberd: A Romance of Real Life. v. 1/2 Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE DUMB WITNESS.

  A sentiment of shame prevented my mentioning the affair of thefootprints to my tutor; and as for Marmaduke, although we were by thistime very intimate, I would not have furnished him with a new occasionfor detesting Fairburn Chase upon any account. Not only, however, was myfavourite haunt by the brook become an object of aversion to me, but Iconfess I took much less delight in any part of the Heath demesne. Ikept my eyes about me, even in the great avenue, and upon the wholepreferred the rector's little garden, if at any time I had a mind forsleeping out of doors.

  "Meredith," observed Mr. Long to me one morning--he called me "Peter"generally, but when he had anything serious to say it was"Meredith"--"it appears to me that you don't take nearly so muchexercise as you used to do. Your appetite is failing. I am reallyconcerned about you."

  "Thank you, sir, I am pretty well."

  "Nonsense, Peter, no boy should be 'pretty well;' he should be in therudest, vulgarest health, or else he is in a bad way. Your good fatheradvised me that if you seemed the least to need it, I should get you anag. It is Crittenden Fair next week. What say you to my buying you ahorse?"

  "Thank you, sir, that is just what I should like," cried I. "I amcertainly getting tired of walking about alone." And then I began toblush a little, for of late rather than go into the Chase I had beenaccompanying my tutor in his favourite diversion of fishing, which Icared nothing about, or else in his parochial expeditions.

  "Don't be afraid to speak out, my boy," said Mr. Long, with a kindsmile, "you will not hurt my feelings. You and I are very good friends,but you want somebody of your own age to be your companion. Isn't thatit? And very natural too. No young gentleman, except in story-books,enjoys the society of his tutors. Even Sandford and Merton got a littletired of good Mr. Barlow, I fancy, he was so desperately full ofinformation. You want a fellow who can shy stones and climb trees."

  "No, sir, indeed I don't," said I, a little indignantly; for I wasgetting too old, I flattered myself, for any boyish escapades of thatsort, "But I do wish that Marmaduke was allowed to come out with me alittle more. Would not Sir Massingberd let him have a horse also?"

  Mr. Long shook his head, and was silent for a little; then, as if incontinuation of his thought, he added, "And yet, I don't know, we'll goover to the Hall and see about it this very morning."

  "I, Sir?" inquired I in astonishment; for I had never set foot inDoubting Castle, or seen it from any nearer spot than the Heronry.

  "Did I say 'we'?" said Mr. Long, reflectively. "I didn't mean to do so,but I really see no reason why you shouldn't come. You would wait aconsiderable time if you waited for an invitation from Sir Massingberd,but--Tush, if poor Marmaduke lives there, and yet remains a good boy,half an hour's visit will not be the ruin of the lad." The latter partof this remark was uttered aloud, although intended to be strictlyprivate, which was not an uncommon occurrence with my worthy tutor, andI have noticed the same peculiarity in other persons of studious habits.He led the way into the road at once, pursuing which, under the parkwall, we presently came upon a little door, which my tutor opened with aprivate key. This admitted us into the wall-garden, or, as it wassometimes called, from the quantities of that fruit which it contained,the peach-garden. An enormous area was here entirely given up to thecultivation of fruits; in the centre were strawberry-beds, gooseberries,melon-beds, the glasses of which dazzled you to behold; and raspberriesupon trellis-work, on so extensive a scale that it looked like a maze.The northern end was occupied by an enormous green-house, which, inthose days was rather a rare adjunct, even to a rich man's garden. Butthe most surprising sight was that of the walls covered withspread-eagled fruit trees, or as schoolboys then called them,"Lawk-a-daisies," laden with the most exquisite dainties--peaches,nectarines, apricots, and bloomy plums. A number of men were busilyemployed about this teeming scene.

  "Why do they say Sir Massingberd is poor?" inquired I. "Is not all thishis?"

  "Yes; it is all his."

  "Well, but what valuable fruit, and what enormous quantities of it! Why,he would make a large income, even if he was to sell it."

  "He does sell it," replied my tutor, smiling. "Nineteen out of twenty ofall these peaches will find their way to Covent Garden. Why, how couldhe eat them, you foolish boy? Even if he gave them away to allFairburn, he would introduce the cholera."

  "A baronet and a market gardener!" exclaimed I. "Well, that seems veryodd."

  Mr. Long did not choose to inform me at that time that almost all theincome Sir Massingberd had was drawn from this source, and from theselling of game, with which his great preserves were overflowing. Thestaff of gardeners and of keepers was retained mainly upon this account.In the interest of Marmaduke, Mr. Clint, the family lawyer, did, Ibelieve, contribute a certain annual sum for keeping up the gardens andthe Chase; but this was by private arrangement, and at his own risk andresponsibility. Thus it was that while some parts of the Fairburndemesne were as admirably maintained as possible, others were sufferedto fall into decay. Just as we emerged from the wall-garden, forinstance, there was a small artificial hollow planted with trees, andwithin it, peering above ground, a thatched roof covered moss andmildew, and with great gaps and holes in it. This was the ice-house--inthese Wenham Lake and Refrigerator days an almost obsolete building, butin the time I write of considered a necessary appendage to every countryseat. Next we entered an arcade of immense length, which the noondayrays would have striven in vain to penetrate, but for the spaces wherethe trellis-work had given way through age and neglect, and the ivytrailed down from rusted nails, and obstructed the way. Seats wereplaced in niches at unequal intervals upon one side of this arcade; butthey looked very unattractive, damp, wormeaten, cracked, and here andthere with a slug upon them, making slimy paths. Yet from one of thesealcoves there started up, while we were still a long way off, a femalefigure, and stood for a moment looking at us in great surprise. Aboveher happened to be one of those broken portions of the leafy roof, andthrough it the sunlight poured right down in a golden flood, as a glorysometimes does in ancient pictures. A tall dark woman, who must havebeen exquisitely beautiful in her youth, and even now retainedconsiderable attractions; her eyes were large and lustrous, and herhair--never even in India had I seen hair more dark, or so luxuriant. Itwas not rolled tight at the back in a great pillow, as was then thefashion, or, indeed, confined in any way, but streamed down over hershoulders, and far below that place where it was the pleasure of ourancestresses to consider that their waists occurred. She cast upon us atfirst a glance haughty and almost defiant, but upon recognizing mycompanion, quenched her fiery looks.

  "Stop here, my lad," whispered Mr. Long, laying his hand firmly upon myshoulder; "wait till she has gone away."

  The woman saw the gesture, although she could not have heard the words."I shall not bite the boy, Mr. Long," cried she with a shrill laugh;"however, I will make myself scarce." She took a few rapid steps to anopening on the right of the arcade, which led to the lawn andflower-garden, and was lost to us in a moment.

  "I did not know there were any ladies at the Hall," said I.

  My tutor did not answer, but walked on muttering to himself as ifannoyed. I did not repeat the remark, for I was wondering within myselfwhether it could be this woman who had watched my sleep and knelt by medagger in hand, according to my dream. She looked just the sort offemale to drive such an instrument home, if she entertained thatfancy--a Judith, equal to the slaying of any Holofernes, and far more ofa slight built, overgrown Indian lad like me. There was certainlysomething uncanny about her, and I thought it very strange thatMarmaduke had never spoken to me of her existence.

  The arcade brought us out into a sunk garden, which was a rosary, on towhich opened the tall windows of a noble-looking room. The walls, Icould see, were lined with books, and on the numerous tables layportfolios and volumes that gave promise of great store of plates. Thiswas the library where Marmaduke had told me he passed his only happyhours at
Fairburn. His uncle rarely so much as entered it, although hewas not without some reputation for learning. In particular it was saidthat he was well acquainted with divinity, and could quote chapter andverse of the Bible against the parson. I have since had reason tobelieve that his talents in this way were greatly exaggerated. What hehad ever read he doubtless recollected, if his memory served him as wellin literary matters as when he had a grudge to pay; but I cannot thinkthat he ever studied divinity. If he had any knowledge of the Bible atall it doubtless astonished all who knew him, and they made the most ofit.

  A few steps further brought us to the north face of the mansion, inwhich was the principal entrance. Notwithstanding the broad sweep infront of the steps, and the avenue branching right and left, there didnot seem space enough as contrasted with the vast mass of trees. Thescene was like a clearing in a forest, where the openings areartificial, and the wood comes by nature rather than the converse, andeven in that September day the air struck chill. The griffins thatguarded the great stone steps had lost, the one an ear, and the other awing, and the steps themselves were chipped and cracked. The grass whichgrew there unchecked at other seasons, had however been scraped out,because Sir Massingberd's guests were expected immediately for theshooting. None of them, however, had as yet arrived. The great bellwhich answered our summons clanged through the place as though there hadbeen neither furniture nor people within it. The vast door was openedlong before its echoes ceased, and indeed with marvellous quickness.When the man saw who we were, he looked vexed at having put himself in aflurry without necessity. He thought doubtless it was his master whodemanded admittance, and had come post haste from the pantry, it beingvery dangerous to keep the baronet waiting. We were ushered into thegreat hall, and left there while the man went to seek Sir Massingberd.This huge apartment was evidently used as a sitting-room. There werecouches and comfortable chairs in profusion, and a fine aroma of tobaccopervaded everything. The walls were ornamented with antlers and theheads of foxes; a number of fishing rods stood in one corner; in anotherlay some of those clubs that are used for exercising the muscles. On thetable was an open pocket-book, stuck full of gorgeous artificial flies.Presently the man reappeared. Sir Massingberd would see us in hisprivate sitting-room. We walked over polished oak, on which I could withdifficulty keep my footing, down a long passage hung with grim portraitsof the Heath family--"all dead and judged," as Marmaduke subsequentlyinformed me--until we came to a short flight of steps on the left hand;these we descended, and following the footsteps of our conductor, inalmost perfect darkness, came upon double doors, the inner of which, abaize one, admitted us into the presence of the proprietor. The baronetwas in his shirt-sleeves, cleaning a double-barrelled gun.

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

  "I know the young gentleman," replied Sir Massingberd, curtly, and thehorse-shoe upon his brow contracted as he spoke. "What makes you bringhim here?"

  "Well, Sir Massingberd," observed my tutor, forcing a laugh, "that isscarcely a hospitable observation. I bring this friend of your nephew'sbecause what I have to propose concerns them both. It is good for theseboys to be together, not to live solitary lives; and to keep them mewedup at home, as they are now, is a positive cruelty. Marmaduke is gettingthinner and paler every day; and Meredith--"

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

  "I do, indeed, Sir Massingberd. I believe that if a doctor was to givehis opinion about that boy--"

  "The Heaths never send for doctors, or for clergymen," interrupted thebaronet, 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'sriding; it need be no trouble to you whatever. I am going over toCrittenden Fair next week myself to purchase one for my pupil; now, letme get one for your nephew also."

  At first Sir Massingberd's countenance expressed nothing but angryimpatience, but presently he began to rub the gun-barrel less and lessviolently. "And who is to find the money?" inquired he.

  "I think that can be managed, Sir Massingberd. Mr. Clint will doubtlesslisten to such an application on behalf of Marmaduke; he will riskadvancing a few pounds--"

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

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

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

  Sir Massingberd was a formidable object at all times, but I really thinkhe inspired more fear when he was pleased--when some wicked notiontickled him--than even when he was in wrath.

  "I think, Sir Massingberd, the question of expense can be managed toyour satisfaction," said my tutor, not a little overwhelmed by havingthus involuntarily expressed his suspicion of the baronet; "and, as Ihave said, I will save you all trouble by selecting the horse myself."

  "Certainly not, sir," exclaimed Sir Massingberd savagely; "I suffer noman to choose my horses for me."

  "Very good," replied Mr. Long, biting his lip. "I have only tostipulate, then, that if your nephew gets the horse, he is to ride it. Ishall 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--hehas about as much notion of riding as old Grimjaw yonder--sulking in hisown room, I dare say. Grimjaw, show the young gentleman up toMarmaduke's room."

  At these words a dog of horrible aspect came out from under the verysofa on which I sat, and trotted off towards the door. He was the oldestand ugliest dog I ever beheld. He had only one eye, which was green; hehad no teeth, and was therefore not to be feared as a combatant; but hisaspect was loathsome and repulsive to the last degree. The people ofFairburn imagined this animal to be Sir Massingberd's familiar demon,and, until of late years, when the creature had become incapacitated byage from accompanying him much, the two were scarcely ever seen apart.Old as he was, however, the hideous Grimjaw 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 alonganother gallery to a chamber door, at which he sat and whined. This wasimmediately opened by his young master, who, with a "Come in, Grim,"was only giving sufficient space for the entrance of the dog, when Icried out, laughing: "What, have you no welcome for your friend? Likeuncle, 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 SirMassingberd know?"

  "Yes," said I coolly; "of course he knows. He received me down-stairswith his usual politeness. Mr. Long and he are conversing upon someprivate matters, so I came up here to see you. It is arranged that eachof 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 givehim?"

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

  "It is marvellous, notwithstanding, that my uncle should haveconsent
ed," observed my companion, musing. "He told me, indeed, that Ishould be a great nuisance in the house this month, while his friendswere down here shooting; but that he should have entered into anarrangement which gives me pleasure as well as gets rid of me, thatseems so very strange."

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

  "I merely amuse myself with the paint-brush. I have had no lessons, ofcourse, 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 isfrom thence I must take my subjects. The one you have there is takenfrom the bend in the stream beyond the Heronry."

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

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

  "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. "Buthere is a pretty face! Why, Master Marmaduke, you have your secrets, Isee; you have never mentioned to me this young lady. What beautifulhair! The eyes, too, how glorious, and yet how tender! It is surely notthe lady whom we just met in the ar--"

  "Silence, sir!" cried Marmaduke, in a voice of thunder. His face waslurid with rage, and for the first time I remarked upon his forehead afaint reflection of the horse-shoe that made so terrible the brow of hisuncle. "Do not speak of that wretched woman in the same breath with,with--" He did not complete the sentence, but added in his usual softmusical 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. "Thelikeness is most remarkable."

  "But not the expression," returned he sadly. "I know that just now Ilooked like one of my own race. She was always an angel, even when shewas upon earth." And the boy looked up with his hands clasped, as thoughhe 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 melancholythoughts in my companion. The situation was embarrassing, and I did notknow how to escape from it. As often happens with well-intentioned butblundering persons, I made the most inopportune remark that could beframed. Forgetting what I had heard of the infamous treatment whichMrs. Heath had received while under her brother-in-law's roof, Iobserved: "Your mother was once at Fairburn, was she not? That should atleast make the Hall more endurable to you."

  Again Marmaduke's handsome face was disfigured with concentratedpassion. "Yes, she was here," returned he, speaking through his teeth."For what she suffered alone, the place would be cursed. Coward,scoundrel! Why does God suffer such men to live?" It was terrible to seehow like this young lad grew to the man he was execrating. He went onusing such language as I could not have conceived him capable ofemploying.

  "Marmaduke," said I, soothingly, "for Heaven's sake, be calm. Providencewill one day reward this man; it is not for you to Curse him. Come, nowthat 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 tounderstand what one says; he rises as though he were the chatelain, andkept the keys of Doubting Castle. He brought me here as true as a blindman'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," returnedMarmaduke gravely. "He is the sole living repository of a most frightfulsecret. If he could but speak, he could perhaps send a man to thegallows."

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

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

  Marmaduke opened the door, to see that no one was in the passagewithout, and then seating himself close beside me, commenced asfollows:--"My grandfather and the present baronet lived on bad termswith one another. For the last ten years of his life, Sir Wentworth andhis eldest son never met--but once--if they met at all. He had been veryprofligate and extravagant in his young days; but in his old age he grewmiserly. When my father saw him last, it was in a small house in BedfordPlace, in London, where he lived in a couple of ill-furnished rooms, andwithout a servant. Grimjaw and he slept there alone, but a charwomancame in every morning for a few hours. Sir Wentworth then gave it as hisreason for this kind of life, that he was retrenching, in order to leavesome suitable provision for his second son. 'Look here, Gilbert,' saidhe upon one occasion to my father; 'I have begun to lay by for youalready; and he showed him a quantity of bank-notes, amounting toseveral thousand pounds. He had never been an affectionate parent, orexhibited any self-denial for the benefit of his sons; and my father didnot believe him. He thanked him, of course; but he came away without anyidea that he would be really better off at Sir Wentworth's death. Thiswas fortunate for him, for he never received a farthing; but I am not socertain as he was that the baronet did not intend to do what hepromised. While the old man was living in this sordid fashion, his sonMassingberd was passing his time very gaily at court. He played high,and there were few who could beat him with the cards--but there weresome. It is no use being a good player, you see, unless you are thebest; you only win from those whom you can beat, to lose it in your turnto the man who can beat you. Thus it was with my uncle, who played, asI say, high with everybody, but highest, as is often the case, with hissuperiors in skill. However, he paid his debts of honour with moneyraised at an enormous sacrifice. He lived well, but it was upon hisfuture prospects. At last, being harder pressed than usual, he wrote tohis father--the first letter he had penned to him for years--anddemanded pecuniary help.

  "Sir Wentworth wrote back a cynical, harsh reply, a copy of which I haveseen--for all these details came out in the course of the inquest. Hebade his son come to call upon him, and judge from his style of livingwhether he was in a condition to comply with his request. He appointed aday and an hour--about five o'clock. It was in December, and quite darkof course by that time. At six o'clock on the appointed day, SirMassingberd--for he had got his title by that time, whether he knew itor not--called at the police-station near Bedford Place, and gaveinformation that the house which his father occupied was shut up, andthat he could not obtain admittance, although he had arrived there byappointment. The house was always shut up they told him, although notuntenanted; they could not explain why his summons had not beenanswered. A couple of policemen accompanied him to break open the door.While they were thus engaged, a dog howled at them from inside. My unclehad made no mention of having heard this before. There was only one lockto force, the door being neither bolted nor chained, and they soon gotin. The only two furnished rooms in the house opened upon the hall. Inthe sleeping room they found my grandfather dressed, but lying on thebed quite dead--suffocated, as the surgeons subsequently averred. Inthe sitting-room, with which it communicated, they found this dog here,crouching on the top of the mantel-piece, which was very lofty. How hegot there, nobody could tell; if he leaped thither, even from a chair,it must have been in an agony of terror. He was whining pitifully whenthey entered; but upon seeing my uncle, he ceased to whimper, andabsolutely seemed to shrink into himself with fear. Poor Grimjaw couldgive no witness at the inquest, however; so the jury returned an openverdict. It was probable that Sir Wentworth had had a fit of apoplexy,which carried him off."

  "Well," said I, "and is not that probable enough?"

  "Yes; but it could not have carried off the bank-notes--which were allgone---likewise. Could it Grimjaw?"

  Thus appealed to, the ancient dog set up a quavering howl, wh
ich mighteasily have been mistaken for the cry of an accusing spirit.

  "Good Heavens! this is too horrible," cried I. "Be careful, Marmaduke,that you do not mention this to others. It is a frightful slander."

  "Slander!" returned my companion calmly. "It is you who slander, if yoususpect anybody. I have only told you what everybody knew at the timethe mur...--well, then, when Sir Wentworth had his fit. The thingstrikes you as it does me, that is all."

  "But is it not inconceivable," urged I, "if the crime was committed bythe person we are thinking of, that he should retain this dumb witnessof his atrocity, that he should let it live, far less should keep it inhis private sitting-room--"

  "No!" interrupted Marmaduke firmly. "On the contrary, it strengthens mysuspicions. You do not know the man as I do. It gives him gratificationto subdue even a dog. This creature has no love for my uncle; but itsexcessive terror of him, which endured for months, nay, years, hasgradually worn off. He obeys him now; whereas, as I have been told, itwas long before it could do anything but shiver at the sound of hisvoice. After dinner, when I have been sitting with Sir Massingberdalone, he will sometimes give the dog a biscuit, saying with an awfulsmile: "Here, Grimjaw; you and I know something that nobody else knows;don't we?"

  "Great Heavens!" cried I in horror; "and what does he do that for?"

  "Because," replied Marmaduke bitterly, "he loves to see me tremble."