The Sapphire Cross Part 5

"And if here ain't Mr Gurdon himself!" exclaimed Chunt, one evening, when he had been distilling information to a select knot of customers.

"Take a chair, Mr Gurdon, sir. Glad to see you this evening. Very curious coincidence, sir: we were just talking about you and your people;" which was indeed most remarkable, considering that nothing else had been talked of in the village for weeks past. "What'll you take, sir? only give it a name. Quite an honour to have you distinguished furreners amongst us."

Mr Gurdon smiled and rubbed his hands; but, evidently considering that he had mistaken his position, he frowned the next moment, and nodded condescendingly to the tradesmen and little yeomen present. Certainly they had, several of them, known him as a boy; but then he had risen in the world, and deserved their respect; besides which, look at the patronage he could bestow. So Mr Gurdon frowned, coughed, and looked important; but, finding that room was made for him, and that incense in abundance was being prepared in his behalf, he condescended to take a seat, and gave what he would take the name of sherry, with which he smoked a cigar, whose aroma whispered strongly of the box from which it had been taken.

Mr Gurdon's presence, though, did not tend to the increase of comfort in the party a.s.sembled, for the gentleman's gentleman seemed to have imbibed a considerable portion of his master's dignity, sitting there very haughty and reserved, while, the flow of conversation being stopped, the rest sat still, smoked, breathed hard, and stared.

But Chunt was satisfied, and he winked and nodded, and whispered behind his hand most mysteriously as he took orders from one and another. He expected that Mr Gurdon would thaw in time with a little management, and, putting on his diplomatic cap, he set to work by asking his advice.

"That sherry's not much account, Mr Gurdon, sir," he said, in a whisper; "but it's the best I've got to offer you. The long and short of it is, sir, we can't order enough, in a little house like this, to make a wine-merchant care about sending it good; but I've got a few gallons of brandy down now that I should just like you to try, and give me your opinion. You see, it isn't every day as one has a gent in as understands such things; but you, being used to your cellar, and having good stuff in your bins, yours is an opinion one would like to have.

There, sir, now just taste that," said Chunt, filling a liqueur-gla.s.s from a big stone bottle; "that's, between ourselves, just as it comes-- untouched, you know. I'll mix you a gla.s.s hot; but just give me your opinion on it as it is."

Mr Gurdon was touched in a weak place, for, though his cellar knowledge was almost nil, it was not worth while to say so. Incense was nice-- almost as nice as brandy, so accepting Chunt's gla.s.s, and confidential wink, he tasted the brandy--tasted it again, and then agreed that it wasn't bad, only it wanted age.

"The very words as my spirit-merchant says to me, sir," said Chunt. "If that brandy had age, sir, it wouldn't be surpa.s.sed anywhere."

Mr Gurdon felt better, and agreed with one of the visitors present that they wanted rain. Then, after finis.h.i.+ng the neat brandy, he commenced the stiff tumbler of hot grog placed before him by Chunt, toyed with the end of his cigar; and, finding a general disposition to pay him respect, and to call him "sir," he gradually unbent--more swiftly, perhaps, than he would have done--under the influence of the brandy and water, for which he had a decided weakness, the potent spirit unlocking, or, as Chunt told his wife, oiling the butlers tongue, so that he gratified the curiosity of the Merlandites that evening to a considerable extent. And there was no lack of brandy and water that night: every one drank it, doing as Mr Gurdon did; and there was quite a struggle amongst the little traders for the honour of "standing" Mr Gurdon's next gla.s.s, the most eager of them, so as not to be outdone, requesting Chunt to fill it again, while it was yet but half empty.

"And do you like furren parts, Mr Gurdon, sir?" said Chunt, setting the ball rolling.

"Pretty well--pretty well," said Gurdon. "On the whole, perhaps, better than England. Society's higher there--more t.i.tles."

"I suppose Mr Gurdon ain't brought home a Hightalian wife," said Huttoft.

Mr Gurdon did not quite approve of this; and Huttoft had to suffer the frowns of the whole company.

"And so, after all these years, Mr Gurdon, sir," said Mouncey, who was in high spirits with the prospect of bread supplying, "you haven't brought us home a heir to the Castle."

"No," said Mr Gurdon; "and it's my opinion as there'll never be one."

"Turned out a happy match, and all that sort of thing, though, I suppose?" said Mouncey.

"Happy! yes, I should think so. Sir Murray wors.h.i.+ps her, and she's never happy unless he's along with her, or else going hunting weeds and gra.s.s and moss in the hills. Lor' bless you! it's wonderful what a happy pair they are. Awfully jealous man, though, Sir Murray--nearly had a duel with a foreign Count, who wanted to be too attentive to my lady; but when my gentleman found as master meant fight, he cooled down, and made an apology."

"Ladys.h.i.+p changed much?" said Chunt.

"Well, no; not much," said Gurdon. "We all look older at the end of five years. She always was pale, and perhaps she is a bit thinner than when she went away. But there, you'll see her safe enough before long; they'll be home to-morrow, and she'll be always out, either riding or walking."

"I used to fancy that things wouldn't turn out happily after that set-out at the church door," said Huttoft, venturing another remark.

"Of course you know as Mr Norton's settled down at the Hall?--married Miss Lee, you know. Good customer of mine, too."

"Ah, yes; we know all about that," said Gurdon, sarcastically. "Her ladys.h.i.+p was frightened, of course; and enough to frighten any lady, to see a mad-brain fellow rush at her like that. Boy and girl love affair, that's what that was. Them sort of things never come to nought; and look how soon he got over it and married. Her ladys.h.i.+p was upset about it, though, when she got the news. She was fond of her cousin, you know, Miss Lee, and you may say what you like here, but we got the right tale over abroad about that Captain Norton shooting her; while, when her ladys.h.i.+p heard that her cousin had been foolish enough to marry him, she had a brain fever, and was bad for weeks. No wonder, neither. He must be half-cracked with sunstroke or drink. They do say them Indy officers drink hard. Well, just one more, gents, and this must be the last."

Mr Mouncey could not help siding with the butler, for he happened to know that Captain Norton was a bit queer at times, as the servants had told him more than once, going rus.h.i.+ng off to all parts without saying a word to anybody, not even to Mrs Norton; and he couldn't quite see through it, unless it was, as Mr Gurdon said, the Captain was, after all, a bit touched.

"By the way, though," said Chunt, "isn't he taking up with that Iron Company?"

"Iron!" said Gurdon, thickly. "No iron about here."

"Oh yes," said Huttoft; "they've found a bed, and there's some talk of trying to work it, bringing coal by ca.n.a.l, but I can't see as it will answer."

Soon after this the conversation became general upon the future of the iron, the company being divided, some declaring for riches to those who took shares in the company, others prognosticating that the shareholders would find the iron too hot to hold, and would burn their fingers in a way not to be forgotten. But, at last, remembrances of frowning wives sitting up for absent lords brought the hour into serious consideration, and, after gla.s.ses round, the enthusiastic party insisted upon seeing Mr Gurdon home, which they did to the lodge gates, parting from him most affectionately, though it might have been better had they continued their escort until he reached his normal bed, the one he chose, when left to himself, being a bed of verbenas, where he was found, covered with dew, at early morning, by Alexander McCray, one of the under-gardeners, who did not fail to treasure up the circ.u.mstance against the next time he might be snubbed.

Book 1, Chapter XI.

HUSBANDS AND WIVES.

The Gernons had returned to the Castle for some days before Philip Norton came home, his wife anxiously scanning his countenance, to find him apparently quite happy and untroubled of mind. She had something she wished to say to him, but she shrank from her task, hardly knowing how to commence; her difficulty, though, was ended by Norton himself, who, as they were seated at tea, turned the conversation in the required direction.

"So the Castle folks are back," he said, quietly.

"Yes; they arrived last Thursday," said Mrs Norton, uneasily.

"Busy times there'll be there, then, I expect," said Norton. "Do the old place good."

Mrs Norton looked searchingly at him, but not a muscle of his countenance was moved.

"Do you know, love, I've been thinking over their return," he said, after a few moments' silence, "and I fancy that, perhaps, it would be better if the intimacy between you and Lady Gernon were not resumed.

Time works wonders, we know, but I cannot think that there could ever be the cordiality that one would wish to feel towards one's friends."

"Can you read my thoughts, dear?" said Mrs Norton, kneeling at his feet, so as to rest her elbows on his knees, and gaze up in his face.

"Well, not all," he said, laughing. "A great many, though, for you are horribly transparent. But why?"

"Because you have been thoroughly expressing my wishes. Do not think me foolish, but I do, indeed, think it would be better that there should be no intimacy between the families."

"Foolis.h.!.+" he laughed. "Why, that would be like blaming myself. But there, I don't think we need trouble ourselves; for I suppose they will be very grand, and take up only with the county families and grandees from London; they will not want our society. And do you know, dear, we shall have to pinch and save no end, for I have been investing heaps of money in a speculation--one, though, that is certain to pay. Iron mines, you know, that were found last year at Blankesley. Capital thing it is to be, so they tell me."

"But was it not foolish?" said Mrs Norton. "Had we not enough, dear?"

"Well, yes," he said, rather impatiently; "enough for ourselves, but we have the child to think of. You do not suppose he will be content to lead his fathers dreary life."

"Dreary, Philip?"

"Well, no--not dreary. I don't mean that; but quiet, retired existence; and besides, a little to do with this iron affair--a little occupation-- will be the making of me. I've grown so rusty," he said, laughing, "that I have run to iron to polish it off."

That same night a similar conversation took place at the Castle, where, in quiet, well-chosen words, Sir Murray expressed a wish that there might be no communication held with the inmates of the Hall.

"Do you doubt me, Murray?" said Lady Gernon, rising, and standing looking down upon her husband, as he leaned back in his chair.

"Doubt you!" he said, almost angrily. "My dear Lady Gernon, what a question!"

"Then why should you ask me, now that at your wish we have returned to the Castle, to give up the love, sympathy, and companions.h.i.+p of my cousin? Why did we not stay abroad, if such coldness is to be preserved. I ceased corresponding with her at her marriage, but with what pain and cost you only know. Do not ask more of me."

"There--there," he said, "what a trouble you are making of this trifle.

It is my wish that the old acquaintances.h.i.+p should not be renewed. No good can result from it; but, perhaps, for all parties a great deal of heartburning and pain. Be guided by me, Marion."

"Not in this," she said, firmly. "Murray, I never yet in anything opposed your wishes, but in this I do. It is my intention to drive over and call upon Ada to-morrow, and I ask you to accompany me. To be distant now would be like disinterring old griefs and sorrows that should before this have been forgotten. Let the past be buried in the past, and let us be, with these our nearest neighbours, upon intimate terms. You do not know Philip and Ada as I know them; and I love them both too dearly to slight them even in thought."