Thereby Hangs a Tale Part 80

"It is too late," said Richard, sadly. "Your child is dead."

Volume 3, Chapter XVII.

THREE MONTHS AFTER.

"Why did you come, Humphrey? Why did you hunt me out?" cried Richard, in answer to a speech made by the broad-shouldered West-country-man, who had been ushered in by Mrs Fiddison.

"Because I wanted to see you, Master d.i.c.k. I've written, and you won't answer; so I got Mr Pratt there to tell me where you were, and here I am."

Richard stood frowning for a few moments; but there was something so bright and frank in the face before him that a suns.h.i.+ny look came in his own, and he shook hands heartily.

"Come, sir, that does one good," cried Humphrey. "I _am_ glad I've come."

"Well, I am glad to see you, Humphrey; but yet--"

"I know, sir--I know," said Humphrey. "I could tell you exactly what you feel--a bit of envy-like; but there, bless your heart, if it wasn't for Polly and the thoughts of her, I should be a miserable man."

"Well, you've got plenty to make you miserable," said Richard.

"Ah, you may smile, sir--I know what you mean; but I have, all the same.

I tell you, I was a deal happier man without the estate than I am with it. Old Lloyd and Mrs Lloyd--begging your pardon for speaking so of them--look sneering-like at me; so do the quality; hang them, they're civil enough, but I can see them sneer. They look down on me, of course. I'm not one of their sort. I'm ignorant, and can't talk to them. I get on well enough with the young fellows, shooting, and so on; but I always feel as if I ought to load their guns, and I can't help saying 'sir' to every one of them."

"But I thought Mr Mervyn--"

"Mr Mervyn's as good and kind a gentleman as ever lived, and he's wanted to learn me all sort of things; but I can't take to them--I can't, indeed, sir. Then there's Polly: she's at a fine school, and, poor la.s.s, she's miserable, and writes to me how glad she'll be to get away. It's all wrong, sir. What's the good of a horse to a man as can't ride, or a yacht to a man as can't sail it? I've got Penreife, and I go in and out of it feeling quite ashamed-like, just as if I was a fish out of water. I tell you, Master d.i.c.k, upon my sivvy, what with feeling uncomfortable about ousting you, and being sneered at on the sly, and bothered with the company and invitations, and hints to dress different, and learn this, and learn that, I haven't had a happy day since you left. I don't like it, and I don't want it. d.a.m.n the estate!--there!"

"Why, my dear fellow, you'll soon get used to it if you make up your mind. Why, you're in your old keeper's clothes."

"Of course I am. Why shouldn't I be? There's no one up here I know, so I thought I'd be comfortable-like, and I thought--I thought I should be better in them to come and see you. And now, sir, how's it with you?"

"Oh, pretty well, Humphrey. I've got the command of a schooner, and I'm going on a voyage to India."

"No, no--don't go, Master d.i.c.k--don't. Come down into Cornwall again."

Richard shook his head.

"Nonsense, sir; why, lookye here. Here am I, Humphrey Lloyd--"

"Trevor," said Richard.

"Hang the name!" said Humphrey, "it's always bothering me. I more often sign Lloyd than Trevor, which is about the awkwardest name there ever was to write. Ah, Master d.i.c.k, it was a bad day's work for me when there was that change."

"Nonsense, man."

"Ah, but it was; and I tell you what: if it wasn't for my darling little la.s.sie, I should take to drinking to drown my cares--But, look here, Master Richard--they wanted me to take that name, too--Richard--but I wouldn't stand that. Well, look here, sir, why don't you come down, and put your foot in the old place again? What's being born got to do with it? We couldn't help being born; we didn't want to be, I dessay; and we couldn't help what they did with us in our cradles."

"Of course not, Humphrey."

"Well, look here, sir; you grew into a gentleman, I grew into a common man. Well, then, what's stupider than trying to make me what I didn't grow into, and you into a common man? It's rubbish: we're neither of us no good as we are."

Richard laughed--rather bitterly, though.

"Polly and I have had it all over, sir. I went down to her school-place, poor little la.s.s. She's very unhappy, and we came to the conclusion that with the cottage nicely papered and painted, and a hundred a year, we should be as happy as the day's long. So come, Master Richard--there's the place nohow for want of you. Come down, and take possession."

"Humphrey, if ever there was a fellow born with the soul of a gentleman, it's you. But no; there is such a thing in a man as pride, and I have too much to accept your offer; and, besides, I have made an engagement."

"Not to be married, sir?"

"No, no; my s.h.i.+p, man, my s.h.i.+p."

"Oh!" said Humphrey; "because I was thinking, sir. There's Miss Rea, you know."

"What about her?" said Richard, sharply.

"Oh, only that she's down at Tolcarne now, sir. They say she's been better lately. There was some talk about her being engaged to an officer--that captain, sir, as come down and stayed with us--you, I mean--but they say that's all broken off, because he was married already. His wife fetched him, and he's gone off in a regiment to India."

Richard remained silent.

"Well, come--look here, Master d.i.c.k, you say you won't take the place back?"

"Certainly not."

"Then let's go halves."

"Humphrey, it is yours by right; keep it," said Richard, decisively.

"Well, come then, sir, we were boys together, you won't refuse to do your old companion a good turn?"

"Anything consistent that you ask me to do, Humphrey, I'll do with pleasure."

"Then come down and be my best man at my wedding."

Richard hesitated, for there was a battle going on within his breast.

He longed--longed intensely to go down and see Cornwall again. Tiny Rea was there--he might see her. Yes, and make himself more wretched than ever, for he could not speak to her. It would be madness to go--and yet once--to see the old place before he left England--just for a few hours.

And why should he not see Tiny, just to tell her of his unaltered faith? He felt that he would give the world to go, and yet pride kept him back, "All right--I'll walk in, Mrs Fiddison," said a voice, and Frank Pratt entered.

"Well, d.i.c.k, old man, how are you? Ah, Humphrey, I told you I should turn up some time."

"I'm trying to get Master d.i.c.k here, sir, to come down and be my best man at the wedding."

"Well, he'll do that for you, surely," said Pratt, quietly. "Go down, d.i.c.k. I've promised Humphrey to go. I said I would directly he asked."

Pratt looked very solemn over it; but there was tremendous exultation in his heart as he thought of seeing Pin, for the family had left Russell Square directly after the unpleasant eclairciss.e.m.e.nt.

"He'll come, Humphrey. There, I'll promise for him, and so you may make your mind happy."

"But just say you will, Master d.i.c.k," said Humphrey, rising.