Throckmorton Part 5

General Temple looked rather sheepish. He had never actually tried stealing six potatoes, or testing the virtue in hairs from a black cat's tail, as a relief from gout, but he had not been above a course of tansy tea, and decoctions of jimson-weed, and other of Delilah's remedies that scientifically were on a par with the black cat's tail. But, being racked with pain, he took refuge in pessimism and profanity.

"Excuse me, Wortley, but all medicine is a d.a.m.ned humbug!--I mean--er--an empirical science. What is written is written. The Great First Cause, that decrees from the hour of our birth every act of our lives, has decreed that I should suffer great pain, anguish, and discomfort from this hereditary disease."

"Ma.r.s.e, ef you wuz ter repent an' be saved--"

"Hold your infernal tongue!"

"An' jine de Foot-washers--"

"d.a.m.n the Foot-washers!" howled the general.

"Plague on it!" snarled Dr. Wortley, whirling round with his back to the fire. "If you've got as far as predestination, you're in for a six weeks' spell. I can cure the gout, but I'll be shot if I can do anything when it's complicated with religion and black cats' tails and a constant diet like a Christmas dinner!"

In the midst of the discussion, the doctor's shrill voice rising high over Delilah's, who, with arms akimbo and a defiant air, only awaited Dr. Wortley's departure to get in her innings with the patient, Mrs.

Temple, serene and sweet, came in and quelled the insurrection. Delilah at once subsided, Dr. Wortley began to laugh, and the general directed that Mrs. Temple's chair be put next to his.

"As your presence, my love, makes me forget my most unhappy foot," he said.

Mrs. Temple's adherence to either Delilah or Dr. Wortley would have caused victory to perch upon that side; but Mrs. Temple, like the general, had more faith in Delilah than she was willing to own up to.

So, between Delilah's feeding him high all the time, while the doctor only saw him once or twice a week, General Temple bade fair to remain an invalid for a considerable time. The attack of gout, though, just at that time, had its consolatory aspects. General Temple really wished to call at Millenbeck, but Mrs. Temple showed no sign of yielding. For the present, however, there could be no notion of his stirring out of doors.

As long as the gout lasted there was a good excuse. But General Temple worried over it.

"My love," he said one night, while Mrs. Temple and Jacqueline and Judith sat around the table in his room, where they had a.s.sembled to make his evening less dull, "I am troubled in my mind regarding George Throckmorton. It unquestionably seems heathenish for us to have one so intimately connected with our early married life--that truly blissful period--within a stone's throw of us, and then to deny him the sacred rites of hospitality."

Jacqueline gave a half glance at Judith which was full of meaning, and Judith could not for her life keep a slight blush from rising in her cheek.

Mrs. Temple said nothing, but looked hard at the fire, sighing profoundly. She had made herself some sort of a vague revengeful promise, that no man wearing a blue uniform should ever darken her doors. She had yielded first one thing, then another, of that scrupulous and daily mourning and remembrance she had promised herself, for Beverley--but this--

The pause was long. Mrs. Temple, looking at General Temple, was touched by something in his expression--a longing, a patient, but genuine desire. Occasionally she indulged him, as she sometimes relaxed a little the discipline over Jacqueline in her childish days. She put her hand over her eyes and waited a moment as if she were praying. Then she said in broken voice, "Do what seems best to you, my husband."

General Temple took her hand.

"But, my own, I do not wish to coerce you. No matter what I think is our duty in the case, if it does not satisfy you, it shall not be done. I would rather anything befell Throckmorton, than you, my beloved Jane, should be grieved or troubled."

Mrs. Temple received this sort of thing as she always did, with a shy pleasure like a girl.

"I have said it, my dear, and you know I do not easily recede. Like you, this thing has been upon me ever since Throckmorton's return. I have felt it every day harder to maintain my att.i.tude. Now, for your sake, I will abandon it. Have Throckmorton when you like. I will invite him over to tea on Sunday evening."

General Temple fairly beamed. When Mrs. Temple gave in to him, which was not oftener than once a year, she gave in thoroughly.

"Thank you, my wife. It certainly seems unnatural that Millenbeck and Barn Elms should be estranged. It shall be so no longer, please G.o.d. And that George Throckmorton is a high-toned gentleman"--General Temple paused a little before saying this, hunting for a term magniloquent enough for the occasion--"no one, I think, will deny."

This was early in the week. The very next afternoon, Jacqueline finding time more than usually hard to kill, went up into the garret and began rummaging over the remains of Mrs. Temple's wedding finery of thirty years before. She dived down into a capacious chest, and brought forth two or three faded silk dresses, the bridal bonnet and veil, yellowed from age; and, among other antiques, a huge m.u.f.f almost as big as Jacqueline herself. This suddenly put the notion of a walk into her head. Judith was engaged in reading Napier's History of the Peninsular Wars to General Temple, and Jacqueline had only herself for company. So, carrying her huge m.u.f.f in which she plunged her arms up to her elbows, she started off. It was a raw autumn afternoon. The leaves had not yet all fallen, although the ground was dank with them, and the peculiar stillness of a lonely and lowland country was upon the monotonous landscape. The entire absence of sounds is a characteristic of that sort of country, and it makes a gloomy day more gloomy. Jacqueline, tripping along very fast, did not find it cheerful. She would go as far as the gate of the lane that led into the main road, and then turn back. This lane was also the entrance to Millenbeck, and Jacqueline had some sort of a faint expectation that she might run across Jack Throckmorton. She looked longingly toward Millenbeck, visible at intervals through the straggling fringe of pines. What an infinity of pleasure could be had, if her mother only came round thoroughly regarding the Throckmortons!

What rides and dances she could have with Jack, and Judith could talk to the major! "What a dull life Judith must lead!" she thought, stepping lightly along. It was true, Judith liked to read; but Jacqueline, who frankly confessed she could not read a novel through from cover to cover, hardly appreciated reading as a resource. Jacqueline's imagination, with this superstructure to build upon, went ardently to work, and in a few minutes had installed Judith as mistress of Millenbeck, and herself as the young lady of the establishment. To do Jacqueline justice, she longed for Judith's happiness, who, she sometimes bitterly felt, was her only friend. Just as she had arranged this scheme to her satisfaction, she looked up, and saw, not twenty feet ahead of her, Major Throckmorton coming out of the underbrush at the side of the lane. A big slouch hat half concealed his face. His usual trim and natty dress, with that unmistakable "military cut," was exchanged for a shooting suit of corduroy, much stained, and otherwise the worse for wear. His stylish and immaculate hat was replaced by the flapping felt, and his gun and game-bag proclaimed his day's employment.

Yet Jacqueline thought she had never seen him look so handsome, and in some way she was not half so much afraid of him in his shooting-togs as in his perfectly fitting evening clothes. Jacqueline's face turned a rosy red. As for Throckmorton, he too felt a thrill of pleasure. This pretty child, as he called her, had been in his mind rather constantly since he saw her at the party. He quickened his pace, and took his hat off while still some distance away.

"Any more parties in prospect?" he asked, smiling, as he took her little hand in his.

"No, I don't suppose there will be. Delicious parties like that don't happen very often," answered Jacqueline, quite seriously, and not in the least understanding Throckmorton's smile as she said this. "And--and young Mr. Throckmorton--oh, how I enjoyed dancing with him!"

The major did not smile at this. To have "young Mr. Throckmorton" thrust at him by a charming young girl was not particularly pleasing.

"Jack is a very jolly young fellow," he replied, shortly. "We are great friends, Jack and I."

Jacqueline had turned around, and they were now walking together toward Barn Elms.

"I--I should think," said Jacqueline, giving him one of her half-glances from under the dark fringe of her eyelashes--"that J--Jack would be afraid of you."

Throckmorton laughed aloud.

"Why should he be afraid of me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Everybody is afraid of one's father," replied Jacqueline, candidly.

"Jack and I entertain sentiments of mutual respect," laughed Throckmorton again. "The only fault I find with him is that he is unduly filial sometimes. For example, when I am enjoying the society of a charming young lady he thinks too young for me, he behaves as if I were his great-grandfather instead of his father. Jack has a good deal of Satan in him."

Jacqueline did not always follow Throckmorton's remarks, but she noticed he had a rich voice, and he was the straightest, most soldierly-looking man she ever saw in her life. Throckmorton slung his game-bag around and held it open.

"Do you like robins?" he said. "They are delicious broiled on toast"--and he took out a bird by the legs and showed it to her.

Jacqueline stood perfectly still. Her eyes dilated and her breath came quickly. She took the bird out of his hand. It had long stopped bleeding, and its little cold head, with half-closed eyes, fell over piteously. Jacqueline took out her handkerchief and wrapped the poor robin in it.

"Oh, the poor bird!" she said, and suddenly two large tears ran down her cheeks.

Throckmorton stood surprised, touched, delighted, and almost ashamed. He had been a sportsman all his life, and could see no harm in knocking over a few birds in the season; but the picture of this tender-hearted child, that could not see a dead bird without weeping, struck him as beautifully feminine. But what could he say? If he was a bloodthirsty brute to shoot a robin, what must all the slaughter of birds he had been guilty of in his lifetime make him? He could only say, half shamefacedly and half laughing "My dear little friend, you wouldn't have men as squeamish as women, would you?"

But to this Jacqueline only responded by pressing the poor bird's cold breast to her cheek.

Throckmorton, however, with an air of gentle authority, took the bird from her and put it back in the bag.

"If you cry for such things as this, you will have a hard time in life,"

he said.

Jacqueline's face did not clear up at once.

"I want you to do something for me--to promise me something," she said, gravely.

"What is it?" asked Throckmorton. Jacqueline had laid her charm upon him in the last ten minutes, but he did not forget his caution entirely.

"It is," said Jacqueline, punctuating her words with tender, appealing glances, "that you won't kill any more robins--never, never, as long as you live."

Throckmorton refrained from smiling, as he felt inclined, but it was plainly no laughing matter to Jacqueline. And if he gave the promise--n.o.body knew the absurdity of it more than Throckmorton--suppose Jack heard of it, what endless fun would he poke at his father on the sly! Nevertheless, Throckmorton, calling himself an old fool, made the promise.

Jacqueline, flushed with triumph, now conceived a bold design. She would--that is, if her courage held out--tell him that her mother had at last come round. This delightful information she proceeded to impart.

"Do you know," she said, smiling and showing her little even white teeth, "that mamma has at last agreed to--to let us have something to do with you and Jack?"

"Has she, indeed?" replied Throckmorton, with rather a grim smile.