Sybil, or the Two Nations Part 32

Morley immediately referring to the newspaper said, "This is what I have just read--

"EXTRAORDINARY SPORT AT THE EARL OF MARNEY'S.

On Wednesday, in a small cover called the Horns, near Marney Abbey, his grace the Duke of Fitz-Aquitaine, the Earl of Marney, Colonel Rippe and Captain Grouse, with only four hours shooting, bagged the extraordinary number of seven hundred and thirty head of game, namely hares three hundred and thirty-nine; pheasants two hundred and twenty-one; partridges thirty-four; rabbits eighty-seven; and the following day upwards of fifty hares, pheasants, &c., (wounded the previous day) were picked up. Out of the four hours' shooting two of the party were absent an hour and a-half, namely the Earl of Marney and Captain Grouse, attending an agricultural meeting in the neighbourhood; the n.o.ble earl with his usual considerate condescension having kindly consented personally to distribute the various prizes to the labourers whose good conduct ent.i.tled them to the distinction."

"What do you think of that, Franklin?" said Morley. "That is our worthy friend of Marney Abbey, where we first met. You do not know this part of the country, or you would smile at the considerate condescension of the worst landlord in England; and who was, it seems, thus employed the day or so after his battue, as they call it." And Morley turning the paper read another paragraph:--

"At a Petty Sessions holden at the Green Dragon Inn, Marney, Friday, October--, 1837.

"Magistrates present: The Earl of Marney, the Rev. Felix Flimsey, and Captain Grouse.

"Information against Robert Hind for a trespa.s.s in pursuit of game in Blackrock Wood, the property of Sir Vavasour Firebrace, Bart. The case was distinctly proved; several wires being found in the pocket of the defendant. Defendant was fined in the full penalty of forty shillings and costs twenty-seven; the Bench being of opinion there was no excuse for him, Hind being in regular employ as a farm labourer and gaining his seven shillings a-week. Defendant being unable to pay the penalty, was sent for two months to Marham Gaol."

"What a pity," said Morley, "that Robert Hind, instead of meditating the snaring of a hare, had not been fortunate enough to pick up a maimed one crawling about the fields the day after the battue. It would certainly have been better for himself; and if he has a wife and family, better for the parish."

"Oh!" said Gerard, "I doubt not they were all picked up by the poulterer who has the contract: even the Normans did not sell their game."

"The question is," said Morley, "would you rather be barbarous or mean; that is the alternative presented by the real and the pseudo Norman n.o.bility of England. Where I have been lately, there is a Bishopsgate Street merchant who has been made for no conceiveable public reason a baron bold. BiG.o.d and Bohun could not enforce the forest laws with such severity as this dealer in cotton and indigo."

"It is a difficult question to deal with--this affair of the game laws,"

said Egremont; "how will you reach the evil? Would you do away with the offence of trespa.s.s? And if so, what is your protection for property?"

"It comes to a simple point though," said Morley, "the Territorialists must at length understand that they cannot at the same time have the profits of a farm and the pleasures of a chase."

At this moment entered Sybil. At the sight of her, the remembrance that they were about to part, nearly overwhelmed Egremont. Her supremacy over his spirit was revealed to him, and nothing but the presence of other persons could have prevented him avowing his entire subjection. His hand trembled as he touched her's, and his eye, searching yet agitated, would have penetrated her serene soul. Gerard and Morley, somewhat withdrawn, pursued their conversation; while Egremont hanging over Sybil, attempted to summon courage to express to her his sad adieu. It was in vain.

Alone, perhaps he might have poured forth a pa.s.sionate farewell. But constrained he became embarra.s.sed; and his conduct was at the same time tender and perplexing. He asked and repeated questions which had already been answered. His thoughts wandered from their conversation but not from her with whom he should have conversed. Once their eyes met, and Sybil observed his suffused with tears. Once he looked round and caught the glance of Morley, instantly withdrawn, but not easy to be forgotten.

Shortly after this and earlier than his wont, Morley rose and wished them good night. He shook hands with Egremont and bade him farewell with some abruptness. Harold who seemed half asleep suddenly sprang from the side of his mistress and gave an agitated bark. Harold was never very friendly to Morley, who now tried to soothe him, but in vain. The dog looked fiercely at him and barked again, but the moment Morley had disappeared, Harold resumed his usual air of proud high-bred gentleness, and thrust his nose into the hand of Egremont, who patted him with fondness.

The departure of Morley was a great relief to Egremont, though the task that was left was still a painful effort. He rose and walked for a moment up and down the room, commenced an unfinished sentence, approached the hearth and leant over the mantel; and then at length extending his hand to Gerard he exclaimed, in a trembling voice, "Best of friends, I must leave Mowedale."

"I am very sorry," said Gerard; "and when?"

"Now," said Egremont.

"Now!" said Sybil.

"Yes; this instant. My summons is urgent. I ought to have left this morning. I came here then to bid you farewell," he said looking at Sybil, "to express to you how deeply I was indebted to you for all your goodness--how dearly I shall cherish the memory of these happy days--the happiest I have ever known;" and his voice faltered. "I came also to leave a kind message for you, my friend, a hope that we might meet again and soon--but your daughter was absent, and I could not leave Mowedale without seeing either of you. So I must contrive to get on through the night."

"Well we lose a very pleasant neighbour," said Gerard; "we shall miss you, I doubt not, eh, Sybil?"

But Sybil had turned away her head; she was leaning over and seemed to be caressing Harold and was silent.

How much Egremont would have liked to have offered or invited correspondence; to have proffered his services when the occasion permitted; to have said or proposed many things that might have cherished their acquaintance or friendship; but embarra.s.sed by his incognito and all its consequent deception, he could do nothing but tenderly express his regret at parting, and speak vaguely and almost mysteriously of their soon again meeting. He held out again his hand to Gerard who shook it heartily: then approaching Sybil, Egremont said, "you have shewn me a thousand kindnesses, which I cherish," he added in a lower tone, "above all human circ.u.mstances. Would you deign to let this volume lie upon your table," and he offered Sybil an English translation of Thomas a Kempis, ill.u.s.trated by some masterpieces. In its first page was written "Sybil, from a faithful friend."

"I accept it," said Sybil with a trembling voice and rather pale, "in remembrance of a friend." She held forth her hand to Egremont, who retained it for an instant, and then bending very low, pressed it to his lips. As with an agitated heart, he hastily crossed the threshold of the cottage, something seemed to hold him back. He turned round. The bloodhound had seized him by the coat and looked up to him with an expression of affectionate remonstrance against his departure. Egremont bent down, caressed Harold and released himself from his grasp.

When Egremont left the cottage, he found the country enveloped in a thick white mist, so that had it not been for some huge black shadows which he recognized as the crests of trees, it would have been very difficult to discriminate the earth from the sky, and the mist thickening as he advanced, even these fallacious landmarks threatened to disappear. He had to walk to Mowbray to catch a night train for London.

Every moment was valuable, but the unexpected and increasing obscurity rendered his progress slow and even perilous. The contiguity to the river made every step important. He had according to his calculations proceeded nearly as far as his old residence, and notwithstanding the careless courage of youth and the annoyance of relinquishing a project, intolerable at that season of life, was meditating the expediency of renouncing that night the attempt on Mowbray and of gaining his former quarters for shelter. He stopped, as he had stopped several times before, to calculate rather than to observe. The mist was so thick that he could not see his own extended hand. It was not the first time that it had occurred to him that some one or something was hovering about his course.

"Who is there?" exclaimed Egremont. But no one answered.

He moved on a little, but very slowly. He felt a.s.sured that his ear caught a contiguous step. He repeated his interrogatory in a louder tone, but it obtained no response. Again he stopped. Suddenly he was seized; an iron grasp a.s.sailed his throat, a hand of steel griped his arm. The unexpected onset hurried him on. The sound of waters a.s.sured him that he was approaching the precipitous bank of that part of the river which, from a ledge of pointed rocks, here formed rapids. Vigorous and desperate, Egremont plunged like some strong animal on whom a beast of prey had made a fatal spring. His feet clung to the earth as if they were held by some magnetic power. With his disengaged arm he grappled with his mysterious and unseen foe.

At this moment he heard the deep bay of a hound.

"Harold!" he exclaimed. The dog, invisible, sprang forward and seized upon his a.s.sailant. So violent was the impulse that Egremont staggered and fell, but he fell freed from his dark enemy. Stunned and exhausted, some moments elapsed before he was entirely himself. The wind had suddenly changed; a violent gust had partially dispelled the mist; the outline of the landscape was in many places visible. Beneath him were the rapids of the Mowe, over which a watery moon threw a faint, flickering light. Egremont was lying on its precipitous bank; and Harold panting was leaning over him and looking in his face, and sometimes licking him with that tongue which, though not gifted with speech, had spoken so seasonably in the moment of danger.

END OF THE THIRD BOOK

BOOK IV

Book 4 Chapter 1

"Are you going down to the house, Egerton?" enquired Mr Berners at Brookes, of a brother M.P., about four o'clock in the early part of the spring of 1839.

"The moment I have sealed this letter; we will walk down together, if you like!" and in a few minutes they left the club.

"Our fellows are in a sort of fright about this Jamaica bill," said Mr Egerton in an undertone, as if he were afraid a pa.s.ser-by might overhear him. "Don't say anything about it, but there's a screw loose."

"The deuce! But how do you mean?"

"They say the Rads are going to throw us over."

"Talk, talk. They have threatened this half-a-dozen times. Smoke, sir; it will end in smoke."

"I hope it may; but I know, in great confidence mind you, that Lord John was saying something about it yesterday."

"That may be; I believe our fellows are heartily sick of the business, and perhaps would be glad of an excuse to break up the government: but we must not have Peel in; nothing could prevent a dissolution."

"Their fellows go about and say that Peel would not dissolve if he came in."

"Trust him!"

"He has had enough of dissolutions they say."

"Why, after all they have not done him much harm. Even --34 was a hit."

"Whoever dissolves," said Mr Egerton, "I don't think there will be much of a majority either way in our time."