Sir John Constantine Part 15

The little man seemed to come out of himself with a start, and gazed from one to another of us perplexedly.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." He drew himself up with dignity.

"Do my ears deceive me, or are you mistaking me for a Methodist?"

"Indeed, and are you not, sir?" asked my father. "Why, good G.o.d, gentlemen!--if you'll excuse me--but I'm the parish clerk of Axminster!"

My father recovered himself with a bow. "In Devon?" he asked gravely, after a pause in which our silence paid tribute to the announcement.

"In Devon, sir; a county remarkable for its attachment to the principles of the Church of England. And that I should have lived to be mistaken for a Methodist!"

"But, surely, John Wesley himself is a Clerk in Holy Orders? and, I have heard, a great stickler for the Church's authority."

"He may say so, sir," answered the little man, darkly. "He may say so. But, if he means it, why does he go about encouraging such a low cla.s.s of people? A man, sir, is known by the company he keeps."

"Is that in the Bible?" my father inquired. "I seem to remember, on the contrary, that in the matter of consorting with publicans and sinners--"

"It won't work, sir. It has been tried in Axminster before now, and you may take my word for it that it won't work. You mustn't suppose, gentlemen," he went on, including us all in the argument, "you mustn't take me for one of those parrot-Christians who just echo what they hear in the pulpits on Sundays. I _think_ about these things; and I find that your extreme doctrines may do all very well for the East and for hot countries where you can go about half-naked and n.o.body takes any notice; but the Church of England, as its name implies, is the only Church for England. A truly Christian Church, gentlemen, because it selects its doctrines from the Gospels; and English, sir, to the core, because it selects 'em with a special view to the needs of our beloved country. And what (if I may so put it) is the basis of that selection? The same, sirs, which we all admit to be the basis of England's welfare and the foundation of her society; in other words, the land. The land, gentlemen, is solid; and our reformed religion (say what you will, I am not denying that it has, and will ever have, its detractors) is the religion for solid Englishmen."

My father put out a hand and arrested Mr. Fett, who had been regarding the speaker with joyful admiration, and at this point made a movement to embrace him.

"I must have his name!" murmured Mr. Fett. "He shall at least tell us his name!"

"Badc.o.c.k, sir; Ebenezer Badc.o.c.k," answered the little man, producing a black-edged visiting-card.

"But," urged my father, "you must forgive us, Mr. Badc.o.c.k, if we find it hard to reconcile your conduct this morning with these sentiments, on which, for the moment, I offer no comment except that they are admirably expressed. What song the Sirens sang, Mr. Badc.o.c.k, or what name Achilles a.s.sumed when he hid himself among women, are questions (as Sir Thomas Browne observes) not beyond conjecture, albeit the Emperor Tiberius posed his grammarians with 'em. But when a man openly champions street-preaching, and goes on to lay about him with a mace--"

"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Badc.o.c.k, with sudden eagerness. "And what--by the way, sir--did you think of that performance?"

"Why, to be sure, you behaved valiantly."

The little man blushed with pleasure. "You really think so?

It struck you in that light, did it? Well, now I am glad--yes, sir, and proud--to hear that opinion; because, to tell you the truth, I thought it pretty fair myself. The fact is, gentlemen, I wasn't altogether sure what my behaviour would be at the critical moment.

You may deem it strange that a man should arrive at my time of life without being sure whether he's a coward or a brave man; but Axminster--if you knew the place--affords few opportunities for that sort of thing."

"Allow us to rea.s.sure you, then," said my father. "But there remains the question, why you did it?"

Mr. Badc.o.c.k rubbed his hands. "Appearances were against me, I'll allow," he answered, with a bashful chuckle; "but you may set it down to tchivalry. We all have our weaknesses, I hope, sir; and tchivalry is mine."

"Chivalry?" echoed my father.

"You spell it with an 's'? Excuse me; whatever schooling I have picked up has been at odd times; but I am always open to correction, I thank the Lord."

"But why call it a weakness, Mr. Badc.o.c.k?"

"Call it a hobby; call it what you like. _I_ look upon it as a debt, sir, due to the memory of my late wife. An admirable woman, sir, and by name Artemisia; which, I have sometimes thought, may partially account for it. Allow me, gentlemen." He drew a small s.h.a.green case from his breast-pocket, opened it, and displayed a miniature.

"Her portrait?"

"In a sense. As a matter of fact, I will not conceal from you, gentlemen, that it came to me in the form of a pledge--that being my late profession--and I have never been able to trace the original.

But, as I said when first I showed it to the late Mrs. B., 'My dear, you might have sat for it.' A well-developed woman, gentlemen, though in the end she went out like the snuff of a candle, that being the way sometimes with people who have never known an hour's sickness. 'Am I really like that, Ebenezer?' she asked. 'In your prime, my dear,' said I--she having married me late in life owing to her romantic nature--'in your prime, my dear, I'll defy any one to tell you and this party from two peas.' 'I wish I knew who she was,'

said my wife. 'Hadn't you best leave well alone?' said I; 'for I declare till this moment I hadn't dreamed that another such woman as yourself existed in the world, and it gives me a kind of bigamous feeling which I can't say I find altogether unpleasant.' 'Then I'll keep the thing,' says she, very positively, 'until the owner turns up and redeems it;' which he never did, being, as I discovered, a strolling portrait painter very much down on his luck. So there the mystery remained. But (as I was telling you), though a first-rate manager, my poor dear wife had a number of romantic notions; and often she has said to me after I'd shut up shop, 'If wishes grew on brambles, Ebenezer, it's not a p.a.w.nbroker's wife I'd be at this moment.' 'Well, my dear,' I'd say to soothe her, 'there _is_ a little bit of that about the profession, now you come to mention it.'

'And them there was a time,' she'd go on, 'when I dreamed of marryin'

a red-cross knight!' 'I have my higher moments, Artemisia,' I'd say, half in joke; 'Why not try shutting your eyes?' But afterwards, when that splendid woman was gone for ever, and my daughter Heeb (which is a cla.s.sical name given her by her mother) comfortably married to a wholesale glover, and me left at home a solitary grandfather--which, proud as you may be of it, is a slight occupation--I began to think things over and find there was more in my poor wife's notions than I'd ever allowed. And the upshot was that seeing this advertis.e.m.e.nt by chance in a copy of the _Sherborne Messenger_, I determined to shut up shop and let Axminster think I was gone on a holiday, while I gave it a trial; for, you see, I was not altogether sure of myself."

"Excuse me, Badc.o.c.k," interrupted Mr. Fett, advancing towards him with outstretched arms; "but have you perused the books of chivalry, or is this the pure light of nature?"

"Books, sir?" answered Mr. Badc.o.c.k, seriously. "I never knew there were any books about it. I never heard of tchivalry except from my late wife; and you'll excuse the force of habit, but she p.r.o.nounced it the same as in chibbles."

"You never read of the meeting of Amadis and Sir Galaor?"

Mr. Badc.o.c.k shook his head.

"Nor of Percival and Galahad, nor of Sir Balin and Sir Balan? No?

Then embrace me!"

"Sir?"

"Embrace me!"

"Sit down, the pair of you," my father commanded. "I have a proposal to make, which, if I mistake not, will interest you both.

Mr. Badc.o.c.k, I have heard your aspirations, and can fulfil them in a degree that will surprise you. I like you, Mr. Badc.o.c.k."

"The feeling, sir, is mutchual." Mr. Badc.o.c.k bowed with much amiability.

"Is time an object with you?"

"None whatever, sir. I am on a holiday."

"Will you be my guest to-night?"

"With the more pleasure, sir, after my experience of the inns in these parts. Though I may have presented her to you in a somewhat romantic light, my Artemisia _did_ know how to make a bed; and twenty-two years of her ministrations, not to mention her companions.h.i.+p, have coddled me in this particular."

"And you, sir"--my father turned to Mr. Fett--"will you accompany us?"

"With what ulterior object?" demanded Mr. Fett. "You will excuse my speaking as a business man, and overlook the d.a.m.ned bad manners of the question for the sake of its pertinence."

My father smiled. "Why, sir, I was proposing to invite you to a sea voyage with me."

"There was a time, before commerce claimed me, when the mere hint of a nautical expedition had evoked an emotion which, if it survive at all, lingers but as in a sea-sh.e.l.l the whisper of the parent ocean."

"As a supercargo, at four s.h.i.+llings _per diem_," suggested my father.

"Say no more, sir; I am yours."

"As for Mr. Fiennes--nay, lad, I remember you well." My father turned to him with that sweet courtesy which few ever resisted.

"And blush not, lad, if I guess that to you we all owe this meeting; 'twere a bravery well beseeming your blood. As for Mr. Fiennes, he will accompany us in heart if he cannot in presence--being, as I understand, destined for the law?"

"Why, sir, as for that," stammered Nat, "I have had the devil's own dispute with my father."