A Tale of a Lonely Parish Part 4

"Oh, I wish n.o.body knew, mamma. It was so nice. When shall I be grown up, mamma?"

"Soon, my child--too soon," said Mrs. G.o.ddard with a sigh. Nellie looked at her mother and was silent for a minute.

"Mamma, do you like Mr. Juxon?" she asked presently.

"No, dear--how can one like anybody one has only seen once?"

"Oh--but I thought you might," said Nellie. "Don't you think you will, mamma? Say you will--do!"

"Why?" asked her mother in some surprise. "I cannot say anything about it. I daresay he is very nice."

"It will be so delightful to go to the Hall to dinner and be waited on by big real servants--not like Susan at the vicarage, or Martha. Won't you like it, mamma? Of course Mr. Juxon will have real servants, just like--like poor papa." Nellie finished her speech rather doubtfully as though not sure how her mother would take it. Mrs. G.o.ddard sighed again, but said nothing. She could not stop the child's talking--why should Nellie not speak of her father? Nellie did not know.

"I think it will be perfectly delightful," said Nellie, seeing she got no answer from her mother, and as though putting the final seal of affirmation to her remarks about the Hall. But she appeared to be satisfied at not having been contradicted and did not return to the subject that evening.

Mr. Juxon lost no time in keeping his word and on the following morning at about eleven o'clock, when Mrs. G.o.ddard was just hearing the last of Nellie's lesson in geography and little Nellie herself was beginning to be terribly tired of acquiring knowledge in such very warm weather, the squire's square figure was seen to emerge from the park gate opposite, clad in grey knickerbockers and dark green stockings, a rose in his b.u.t.tonhole and a thick stick in his hand, presenting all the traditional appearance of a thriving country gentleman of the period. He crossed the road, stopped a moment and whistled his dog to heel and then opened the wicket gate that led to the cottage. Nellie sprang to the window in wild excitement.

"Oh what a dog!" she cried. "Mamma, _do_ come and see! And Mr. Juxon is coming, too--he has green stockings!"

But Mrs. G.o.ddard, who was not prepared for so early a visit, hastily put away what might be described as the debris of Nellie's lessons, to wit, a much thumbed book of geography, a well worn spelling book, a very particularly inky piece of blotting paper, a pen of which most of the stock had been subjected to the continuous action of Nellie's teeth for several months, and an ancient doll, without the a.s.sistance of which, as a species of Stokesite _memoria teohnica_, Nellie declared that she could not say her lessons at all. Those things disappeared, and, with them, Nellie's troubles, into a large drawer set apart for the purpose. By the time Mr. Juxon had rung the bell and Martha's answering footstep was beginning to echo in the small pa.s.sage, Mrs. G.o.ddard had pa.s.sed to the consideration of Nellie herself. Nellie's fingers were mightily inky, but in other respects she was presentable.

"Run and wash your hands, child, and then you may come back," said her mother.

"Oh mamma, _must_ I go? He's just coming in." She gave one despairing look at her little hands, and then ran away. The idea of missing one moment of Mr. Juxon's visit was bitter, but to be caught with inky fingers by a beautiful gentleman with green stockings and a rose in his coat would be more terribly humiliating still. There was a sound as of some gigantic beast plunging into the pa.s.sage as the front door was opened, and a scream of terror from Martha followed by a good-natured laugh from the squire.

"You'll excuse _me_, sir, but he don't bite, sir, does he? Oh my! what a dog he is, sir--"

"Is Mrs. G.o.ddard in?" inquired Mr. Juxon, holding the hound by the collar. Martha opened the door of the little sitting-room and the squire looked in. Martha fled down the pa.s.sage.

"Oh my! What a tremendious dog that is, to be sure!" she was heard to exclaim as she disappeared into the back of the cottage.

"May I come in?" asked Mr. Juxon, rather timidly and with an expression of amused perplexity on his brown face. "Lie down, Stamboul!"

"Oh, bring him in, too," said Mrs. G.o.ddard coming forward and taking Mr.

Juxon's hand. "I am so fond of dogs." Indeed she was rather embarra.s.sed and was glad of the diversion.

"He is really very quiet," said the squire apologetically, "only he is a little impetuous about getting into a house." Then, seeing that Mrs.

G.o.ddard looked at the enormous animal with some interest and much wonder, he added, "he is a Russian bloodhound--perhaps you never saw one? He was given to me in Constantinople, so I call him Stamboul--good name for a big dog is not it?"

"Very," said Mrs. G.o.ddard rather nervously. Stamboul was indeed an exceedingly remarkable beast. Taller than the tallest mastiff, he combined with his gigantic strength and size a grace and swiftness of motion which no mastiff can possess. His smooth clean coat, of a perfectly even slate colour throughout, was without folds, close as a greyhound's, showing every articulation and every swelling muscle of his body. His broad square head and monstrous jaw betrayed more of the quickness and sudden ferocity of the tiger than those suggested by the heavy, lion-like jowl of the English mastiff. His ears, too, were close cropped, in accordance with the Russian fashion, and somehow the compactness this gave to his head seemed to throw forward and bring into prominence his great fiery eyes, that reflected red lights as he moved, and did not tend to inspire confidence in the timid stranger.

"Do sit down," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, and when the squire was seated Stamboul sat himself down upon his haunches beside him, and looked slowly from his master to the lady and back again, his tongue hanging out as though anxious to hear what they might have to say to each other.

"I thought I should be sure to find you in the morning," began Mr. Juxon, after a pause. "I hope I have not disturbed you?"

"Oh, not at all. Nellie has just finished her lessons."

"The fact is," continued the squire, "that I was going to survey the nakedness of the land which has fallen to my lot, and as I came out of the park I saw the cottage right before me and I could not resist the temptation of calling. I had no idea we were such near neighbours."

"Yes," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, "it is very near."

Mr. Juxon glanced round the room. He was not exactly at a loss for words, but Mrs. G.o.ddard did not seem inclined to encourage the conversation. He saw that the room was not only exceedingly comfortable but that its arrangement betrayed a considerable taste for luxury. The furniture was of a kind not generally seen in cottages, and appeared to have formed part of some great establishment. The carpet itself was of a finer and softer kind than any at the Hall. The writing-table was a piece of richly inlaid work, and the implements upon it were of the solid, severe and valuable kind that are seen in rich men's houses. A clock which was undoubtedly of the Louis Quinze period stood upon the chimneypiece. On the walls were hung three or four pictures which, Mr. Juxon thought, must be both old and of great value. Upon a little table by the fireplace lay four or five objects of Chinese jade and j.a.panese ivory and a silver chatelaine of old workmanship. The squire saw, and wondered why such a very pretty woman, who possessed such very pretty things, should choose to come and live in his cottage in the parish of Billingsfield. And having seen and wondered he became interested in his charming tenant and endeavoured to carry on the conversation in a more confidential strain.

CHAPTER V.

"You have done more towards beautifying the cottage than I could have hoped to do," said Mr. Juxon, leaning back in his chair and resting one hand on Stamboul's great head.

"It was very pretty of itself," answered Mrs. G.o.ddard, "and fortunately it is not very big, or my things would look lost in it."

"I should not say that--you have so many beautiful things. They seem to suit the place so well. I am sure you will never think of taking them away."

"Not if I can help it--I am too glad to be quiet."

"You have travelled a great deal, Mrs. G.o.ddard?" asked the squire.

"No--not exactly that--only a little, after all. I have not been to Constantinople for instance," she added looking at the hound Mr. Juxon had brought from the East. "You are indeed a traveller."

"I have travelled all my life," said the squire, indifferently, as though the subject of his wanderings did not interest him. "From what little I have seen of Billingsfield I fancy you will find all the quiet you could wish, here. Really, I realise that at my own gate I must come to you for information. What sort of man is that excellent rector down there, whom I met last night?"

The squire's tone became more confidential as he put the question.

"Well--he is not a rector, to begin with," answered Mrs. G.o.ddard with a smile, "he is the vicar, and he is a most good man, whom I have always found most kind."

"I can readily fancy that," said Mr. Juxon. "But his wife seems to be of the severe type."

"No--she struck me so at first, too. I think it is only with strangers.

She is such a motherly sort of woman, you do not know! She only has that little manner when you first meet her."

"What a strange thing that is!" remarked the squire, looking at Mrs.

G.o.ddard. "The natural belief of English people in each other's depravity until they have had time to make acquaintance! And is there no one else here--no doctor--no doctor's wife?"

"Not a soul," answered Mrs. G.o.ddard. "There is a doctor, but the vicarage suspects him of free thought. He certainly never goes to church. He has no wife."

"This is the most Arcadian retreat I ever was in. Upon my word, I am a very lucky man."

"I suppose that it must be a relief when one has travelled so much,"

replied Mrs. G.o.ddard.

"Or suffered very much," added the squire, half unconsciously, looking at her sad face.

"Yes," she answered. At that moment the door opened and Nellie entered the room, having successfully grappled with the inkstains. She went straight to the squire, and held out her hand, blushing a little, but looking very pretty. Then she saw the huge head of Stamboul who looked up at her with a ferociously agreeable canine smile, and thwacked the carpet with his tail as he sat; Nellie started back.

"Oh, what a dog!" she exclaimed. But very soon she was on excellent terms with him; little Nellie was not timid, and Stamboul, who liked people who were not afraid of him and was especially fond of children, did his best to be amusing.