Erema; Or, My Father's Sin Part 36

"There were not seven graves without the mother," the Major answered, sternly. "And what odds whether seven or seventy? The criminality is the point, not the acc.u.mulation of results. Still, I never heard of so big a blackguard. And what did he do next, my dear?"

The way in which they took my story was a great surprise to me, because, although they were so good, they had never paid any attention to it until it became exciting. They listened with mere politeness until the scent of a very wicked man began to taint my narrative; but from that moment they drew nearer, and tightened their lips, and held their breath, and let no word escape them. It made me almost think that people even of pure excellence, weaned as they are from wicked things by teaching and long practice, must still retain a hankering for them done at other people's cost.

"And now," cried the Major, "let us see it"--even before I had time to pull it out, though ready to be quick, from a knowledge of his ways.

"Show it, and you shall have my opinion. And Mary's is certain to agree with mine. My dear, that makes yours so priceless."

"Then, Nicholas, if I retain my own, yours is of no value. Never mind that. Now don't catch words, or neither opinion will be worth a thought.

My dear, let us see it and then judge."

"My own idea, but not so well expressed," Major Hockin answered, as he danced about, while I with stupid haste was tugging at my package of the hateful locket. For I had not allowed that deceitful thing any quarters in my pocket, where dear little relics of my father lay, but had fastened it under my dress in a manner intended in no way for gentlemen to think about. Such little things annoy one's comfort, and destroy one's power of being quite high-minded. However, I got it out at last, and a flash of the sun made the difference.

"Brilliants, Mary!" the Major cried; "brilliants of first water; such as we saw, you know where; and any officer in the British army except myself, I do believe, would have had them at once in his camlet pouch--my dear, you know all about it. Bless my heart, how slow you are!

Is it possible you have forgotten it? There came out a fellow, and I cut him down, as my duty was, without ceremony. You know how I used to do it, out of regulation, with a slash like this--"

"Oh, Nicholas, you will be over the cliff! You have shown me how you used to do it, a thousand times--but you had no cricks in your back then: and remember how brittle the chalk is."

"The chalk may be brittle, but I am tough. I insist upon doing every thing as well as I did it forty years ago. Mary, you ought not to speak to me like that. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty brilliants, worth twenty pounds apiece upon an average, I do believe. Four hundred pounds. That would finish our hotel."

"Nicholas!"

"My dear, I was only in fun. Erema understands me. But who is this beautiful lady?"

"The very point," I exclaimed, while he held it so that the pensive beauty of the face gleamed in soft relief among bright blue enamel and sparkling gems. "The very thing that I must know--that I would give my life to know--that I have fifty thousand fancies--"

"Now don't be excited, Erema, if you please. What will you give me to tell you who it is?"

"All those diamonds, which I hate the sight of, and three-quarters of my half nugget; and if that is not enough--"

"It is a thousand times too much; I will tell you for just one smile, and I know it, will be a smile of unbelief."

"No, no; I will believe it, whoever you say," with excitement superior to grammar, I cried; "only tell me at once--don't be so long."

"But then you won't believe me when I do tell you," the Major replied, in the most provoking way. "I shall tell you the last person you would ever think of, and then you will only laugh at me."

"I won't laugh; how can I laugh in such a matter? I will believe you if you say it is--Aunt Mary."

"My dear, you had better say at once that it is I, and have no more mystery about it." Mrs. Hockin was almost as impatient as myself.

"Mrs. Hockin, you must indeed entertain an exalted idea of your own charms. I knew that you were vain, but certainly did not--Well, then, if you will allow me no peace, this is the lady that lives down in the ruin, and stands like a pillar by my pillar-box."

"I never thought you would joke like that," I cried, with vexation and anger. "Oh, is it a subject to be joked about?"

"I never was graver in my life; and you promised implicitly to believe me. At any rate, believe that I speak in earnest."

"That I must believe, when you tell me so. But what makes you think such a wonderful thing? I should have thought nothing more impossible. I had made up my mind that it was Flittamore who lived down here; but this can not be she. Flittamore was unheard of at the time of my grandfather's death. Moreover, her character was not like this; she was giddy and light and heartless. This lady had a heart--good or bad, a deep one.

Most certainly it is not Flittamore."

"Flittamore! I do not remember that name. You should either tell us all or tell us nothing." The Major's tone was reproachful, and his eyes from their angular roofs looked fierce.

"I have not told you," I said, "because it can have nothing to do with it. The subject is a painful one, and belongs to my family only."

"Enough. I am not inquisitive--on the other hand, too forgetful. I have an appointment at 3.25. It takes me seven minutes and a quarter to get there. I must be two minutes and three-quarters late. Mrs. Hockin, mount the big telescope and point it at the ramparts; keep the flag up also.

Those fellows will be certain that I am up here, while I enfilade them from the western end with this fine binocular. Surprises maintain discipline. Good-by, my dear, and, Miss Castlewood, good-by. Tea at 6.30, and not too much water."

CHAPTER XLVI

VAIN ZEAL

Leaving his telescope leveled at the men, the Major marched off with his opera-gla.s.s in a consciously provoking style, and Mrs. Hockin most heartily joined me in condemning such behavior. In a minute or two, however, she would not have one word said against him, and the tide of her mind (as befits a married woman) was beyond all science; so that the drift of all words came back to her husband's extraordinary merits. And certainly these, if at all like her description, deserved to be dwelt upon at very precious periods.

However, I had heard enough of them before; for the Major himself was not mute upon this point, though comparatively modest, and oftentimes deprecating praise ere ever he received it. And so I brought Mrs. Hockin back at last to talk about the lady who was living in the ruin.

"It is not quite a ruin," she said. "My dear husband is fond of picturesque expressions. However, it is not in very good repair; and being unable to get possession of it, through some legal quibble, possibly he may look at it from a rather unfavorable point of view. And for the same reason--though he is so purely just--he may have formed a bad opinion of the strange individual who lives there. What right has she to be living without his leave upon his own manor? But there she is, and she does not care for us or any body. She fetches all she wants, she speaks to none, and if any body calls for rates or taxes, or any other public intrusion, they may knock and knock, but never get in, and at last they go away again."

"But surely that can not go on forever. Bruntsea is such an enlightened place."

"Our part of it is, but the rest quite benighted. As the man says--I forget his name, but the man that misunderstands us so--his contention is that 'Desolate Hole,' as the Major calls it, although in the middle of our land, is entirely distinct from it. My husband never will put up with that--his love of justice is far too strong--and he means to have a lawsuit. But still he has reasons for not beginning yet; and he puts up with a great deal, I am sure. It is too bad for them to tease him so."

"It does seem a very sad thing," I replied; "and the poor soul living there all alone! Even in the summer it is bad enough; but whatever will she do when the winter comes? Why, the sea in bad weather must be almost in upon her. And the roar of the pebbles all night! Major Hockin will never allow her to stay there."

"What can he do, when he can not get in, and they even deny his t.i.tle?

I a.s.sure you, Erema, I have sent down cream, and even a dozen of my precious eggs, with the lady of the manor's compliments; but instead of being grateful, they were never taken in; and my Polly--'Miss Polly Hopkins,' you know--very wisely took it all to her grandmother."

"To her grandmother instead of mine, as the Major facetiously calls her.

And now he says this is her portrait; and instead of giving his reasons, runs away! Really you must excuse me, Aunt Mary, for thinking that your good husband has a little too much upon his mind sometimes."

The old lady laughed, as I loved to see her do. "Well, my dear, after that, I think you had better have it out with him. He comes home to tea at 6.30, which used to be half past six in my days. He is very tired then, though he never will allow it, and it would not be fair to attack him. I give him a mutton-chop, or two poached eggs, or some other trifle of nourishment. And then I make him doze for an hour and a half, to soothe his agitated intellect. And when he wakes he has just one gla.s.s of hot water and sugar, with a little Lochnagar. And then he is equal to any thing--backgammon, bezique, or even conversation."

Impatient as I was, I saw nothing better; and by this time I was becoming used to what all of us must put up with--the long postponement of our heavy cares to the light convenience of others. Major Hockin might just as well have stopped, when he saw how anxious I was. Uncle Sam would have stopped the mill itself, with a dozen customers waiting; but no doubt he had spoiled me; and even that should not make me bitter.

Aunt Mary and I understood one another. We gazed away over the breadth of the sea and the gleam of its texture, and we held our peace.

Few things are more surprising than the calm way in which ripe age looks on at things which ought to amaze it. And yet any little one of its own concerns grows more important, perhaps, than ever as the shadow of the future dwindles. Major Hockin had found on the beach a pebble with a streak of agate in it. He took it as the harbinger of countless agates, and resolved to set up a lapidary, with a tent, or even a shop, perhaps--not to pay, but to be advertised, and catch distinguished visitors.

"Erema, you are a mighty finder; you found the biggest nugget yet discovered. You know about stones from the Rocky Mountains, or at least the Sierra Nevada. You did not discover this beautiful agate, but you saw and greatly admired it. We might say that a 'young lady, eminent for great skill in lithology, famed as the discoverer,' etc. Hold it between your eyes and this candle, but wet it in the slop-basin first; now you see the magnificent veins of blue."

"I see nothing of the kind," I said; for really it was too bad of him.

"It seems to me a dirty bit of the commonest flint you could pick up."

This vexed him more than I wished to have done, and I could not help being sorry; for he went into a little fit of sulks, and Aunt Mary almost frowned at me. But he could not stay long in that condition, and after his doze and his gla.s.s he came forth as lively and meddlesome as ever. And the first thing he did was to ask me for the locket.

"Open it?" he cried; "why, of course I can; there is never any difficulty about that. The finest workmanship in the world is that of the Indian jewelers. I have been among them often; I know all their devices and mechanism, of which the European are bad copies. I have only to look round this thing twice, and then p.r.o.nounce my Sesame."

"My dear, then look round it as fast as you can," said his wife, with a traitorous smile at me, "and we won't breathe a Sess till it flies asunder."

"Mary, Miss Castlewood makes you pert, although herself so well conducted. However, I do not hesitate to say that I will open this case in two minutes."