Juliet read this letter with real concern. Had she rescued the poor, weak, and wilful Flora from immediate moral, only to devote her to immediate physical, destruction? And what now could be devised for her relief? Her intellects were too feeble for reason, her temper was too petulant for entreaty. Nevertheless, the benevolent are easily urged to exertion; and Juliet would not refuse the summons of the distressed mother, while she could flatter herself that any possible means might be suggested for serving the self-willed, and half-witted, but innocent daughter.
She set out, therefore, upon this plan, far from sanguine of success, but persuaded that the effort was a duty.
By her own calculations from memory, she was arrived within about a mile of Lewes, when the horses suddenly turned down a narrow lane.
She demanded of the postilion why he did not proceed straight forward. He answered, that he knew a short cut to the house of Mrs Pierson. Uneasy, nevertheless, at quitting thus alone the high road, she begged him to go the common way, promising to reward him for the additional time which it might require. But he drove on without replying; though, growing now alarmed, she called, supplicated, and menaced in turn.
She looked from window to window to seek some object to whom she might apply for aid; none appeared, save a man on horseback, whom she had already noticed from time to time, near the side of the chaise; and to whom she was beginning to appeal, when she surprised him making signs to hurry on the postilion.
She now believed the postilion himself to be leagued with some highwayman; and was filled with affright and dismay.
The horses galloped on with encreased swiftness, the horseman always keeping closely behind the chaise; till they were stopt by a small cart, from which Juliet had the joy to see two men alight, forced, by the narrowness of the road, to take off their horse, and drag back their vehicle.
She eagerly solicited their assistance, and made an effort to open the chaise door. This, however, was prevented by the pursuing horseman, who, dismounting, opened it himself; and, to her inexpressible terrour, sprung into the carriage.
What, then, was her mingled consternation and astonishment, when, instead of demanding her purse, he gaily exclaimed, ‘Why are you frightened, you beautiful little creature?’ And she saw Sir Lyell Sycamore.
A change, but not a diminution of alarm, now took place; yet, assuming a firmness that sought to conceal her fears, ‘Quit the chaise, Sir Lyell,’ she cried, ‘instantly, or you will compel me to claim protection from those two men!’
‘Protection? you pretty little vixen!’ cried he, yet more familiarly, ‘who should protect you like your own adorer?’
Juliet, leaning out, as far as was in her power, from the chaise-window, called with energy for help.
‘What do you mean?’ cried he, striving to draw her back. ‘What are you afraid of? You don’t imagine me such a blundering cavalier, as to intend to carry you off by force?’
The postilion was assisting the two men to fix their horse, for dragging back their cart; but her cries reached their ears, and one of them, advancing to the chaise, exclaimed, ‘Good now! if it is not Miss Ellis!’ And, to her infinite relief and comfort, she beheld young Gooch.
She entreated him to open the door; but, lolling his arms over it, without attending to her, he said, ‘Well! to see but how things turn out! Here have I been twice this very morning, at your new lodgings, to let you know it’s now or never, for our junket’s to night; and the old gentlewoman that keeps the house, who’s none of the good-naturedest, as I take it, would never let me get a sight of you, say what I would; and here, all of the sudden, when I was thinking of you no more than if you had never been born, I come pop upon you, as one may say, within cock-crow of our very door; all alone, with only the young Baronight!’
Nearly as much shocked, now, as, the moment before, she had been relieved, Juliet eagerly declared, that she was not with any body; she was simply going to Lewes upon business.
‘Why then,’ cried he, ‘the Baronight must be out his head, begging his pardon, to let you come this way; and the postilion as stupid as a post; for it’s quite the contrary. It will lead you to you don’t know where. We only turned down it ourselves, just to borrow a few glasses, of farmer Barnes, because we’ve more mouths than we have got of our own: for I’ve invited all our club; which poor dad don’t much like. He says I am but a bungler at saving money, any more than at getting it; but I am as rare a hand as any you know, far or near, says the old gentleman, for spending it. The old gentleman likes to say his say. However, I must not leave my horse to his gambols.’
Then nodding, still without listening to Juliet, he returned to his chay-cart.
Juliet now unhasped the chaise-door herself, and was springing from the carriage; when Sir Lyell, forcibly holding her, exclaimed, ‘What would you do, you lovely termagant? Would you make me pass for a devil of a ravisher? No, no, no! you handsome little firebrand! name your terms, and command me! I know you love me,—and I adore you. Why then this idle cruelty to us both? to nature itself; and to beauty?’
More and more indignant, Juliet uttered a cry for help, that immediately brought back young Gooch, who was followed by an elderly companion.
Provoked and resentful, yet amazed and ashamed, the Baronet jumped out of the chaise, saying, with affected contempt, yet stronger pique, ‘Yes! help, gentlemen, help! come quick! quick! Miss Ellis is taken suddenly ill!’
The insolent boldness of this appeal, was felt only by Juliet; whose scorn, however potent, was less prevalent than her satisfaction, upon beholding her old friend Mr Tedman. She descended to meet him, with an energetic ‘Thank Heaven!’ and an excess of gladness, not more tormenting to the Baronet, than unexpected by himself. ‘Well, this is very kind of you, indeed, my dear,’ cried he, heartily shaking hands with her; ‘to be so glad to see me; especially after the ungenteel way I was served in by your lodging-gentlewoman, making no more ceremony than refusing to let me up, under cover that you saw no gentlemen; though I told her what a good friend I had been to you; and how you learnt my darter the musics; and how I used to bring you things; and lend you money; and that; and how I was willing enough to do the like again, put in case you was in need: but I might just as well have talked to the post; which huffed me a little, I own.’
‘O, those old gentlewomen,’ interrupted Gooch, ‘are always like that. One can never make any thing of ’em. I don’t over like them myself, to tell you the truth.’
Juliet assured them that, having no time but for business, her injunctions of non-admission had been uniform and universal; and ought not, therefore, to offend any one. She then requested Mr Tedman to order that the postilion would return to the high road; which he had quitted against her positive direction; and to have the goodness to insist upon his driving her by the side of his own vehicle, till they reached Lewes.
Tedman, looking equally important and elated, again heartily shook hands with her, and said, ‘My dear, I’ll do it with pleasure; or, I’ll engage Tim to send off your chay, and I’ll take you in his’n; put in case it will be more to your liking; for I am as little agreeable as you are, to letting them rascals of drivers get the better of me.’
Juliet acceded to this proposal, in which she saw immediate safety, with the most lively readiness; entreating Mr Tedman to complete his kindness, in extricating her from so suspicious a person, by paying him the half-crown, which she had promised him, for carrying her to Lewes.
‘Half-a-crown?’ repeated Mr Tedman, angrily refusing to take it. ‘It’s too much by half, for coming such a mere step; put in case he did not put to o’purpose. You’re just like the quality; and they’re none of your sharpest; to throw away your money, and know neither the why nor the wherefore.’
The Baronet, with a loud oath, said that the postilion was a scoundrel, for having offended the young lady; and menaced to inform against him, if he received a sixpence.
The postilion made no resistance; the horses were taken off, and the chaise was drawn back to the high road. The little carriage belonging to young Gooch followed, into which Juliet, refusing all aid but from Mr Tedman, eagerly sprang; and her old friend placed himself at her side; while Gooch took the reins.
Sir Lyell looked on, visibly provoked; and when they were driving away, called out, in a tone between derision and indignation, ‘Bravo, Mr Tedman! You are still, I see, the happy man!’
Young Gooch, laughing without scruple, smacked his horse; while Mr Tedman angrily muttered, ‘The quality always allows themselves to say any thing! They think nothing of that! All’s one to them whether one likes it or not.’
The design of Juliet was, when safely arrived at the farm, which was within a very short walk of the town of Lewes, to beg a safe guide to accompany her to the house of Mrs Pierson; where she resolved to pass the night; and whence she determined to write to Elinor, and solicit an interview; in which she meant to lay open her new difficulties, in the hope of re-awakening some interest that might operate in her favour.
To save herself from the vulgar forwardness of ignorant importunity, she forbore to mention her plan, till she alighted from the little vehicle, at the gate of the farm-yard.
‘Goodness! Ma’am,’ then cried young Gooch, ‘you won’t think of such a thing as going away, I hope, before you’ve well come? Why our sport’s all ready! why, if you’ll step a little this way, you may see the three sacks, that three of our men are to run a race in! There’ll be fine scrambling and tumbling, one o’ top o’ t’other. You’ll laugh till you split your sides. And if you’ll only come here, to the right, I’ll shew you the stye where our pig is, that’s to be caught by the tail. But it will be well soaped, I can tell you; so it will be no such easy thing.’
Slightly thanking him, Juliet applied for aid, in procuring her a conductor, to Mr Tedman; who, though at first he pressed her to stay, as she might get a little amusement so pure cheap, since it would cost nothing but looking on; no sooner heard her pronounce that she was called away by business, than he ceased all opposition; and promised to take care of her to Lewes himself, when he’d just spoken a word or two to his cousin Gooch: ‘For I can’t go with you, my dear, only I and you, you know, without that,’ he said, ‘just upon coming; for fear it should put them upon joking; which I don’t like; for all the quality’s so fond of it. Besides which, I must give in my presents; for this little hamper’s full of little odd things for the junket; and if I leave ’em out here, to the mercy of nobody knows who, somebody or other’ll be a pilfering, as sure as a gun; put in case they smoke what I’ve got in my hamper. And they’re pretty quick at mischief.’
Juliet supplicated him to be speedy. Pleased to have his services accepted, he put his hamper under his arm, and walked on to the house; mindless of the impatient remonstrances of young Gooch, who exclaimed, ‘Why now, who’d have thought this of the ‘Squire? it’s doing just contrary; for he’s the very person I thought would make you stay! for he’s come, as one may say, half o’ purpose for your sake; for he never plump accepted of our invitation till I told him, in my letter, of my having invited of you. And then he said he would come.’
Then, lowering his voice into a whisper, he added, ‘Between ourselves, Ma’am, the poor ‘Squire, my good cousin, don’t get much for his money at home, I believe. His daughter’s got quite the top end; and she’s none of your obligingests; she won’t do one mortal thing he desires. She’s been brought up at them fine boarding-schools, with misses that hold up their heads so high, that nothing’s good enough for ’em. So she’s always ashamed of her papa, because, she says, he’s so mean; as he tells us. The poor ‘Squire, my cousin, don’t much like it; but he can’t help himself. She’s as exact like a fine lady as ever you see; and she won’t speak a word to any of her poor relations, because they are so low, she says.’ He then added, ‘If you won’t go while I’m gone, I’ll give you as agreeable a surprize as ever you had in your life!’
He ran on to the house.
In a few minutes, Juliet felt something tickle the nape of her neck, and, imagining it to be an insect, she would have brushed it away with her hand, but received, between her fingers, a pink; and, looking round, saw Flora Pierson, nearly breathless from her efforts to smother a laugh.
‘Is it possible?’ cried Juliet, in great amazement. ‘Miss Pierson! I thought you were ill in bed?’
No further efforts were necessary to repress the laugh; resentment, rather than gravity, took its place, and, with pouting lips, and a frowning brow, she answered, ‘Ill? Yes! I have had enough to make me ill, that’s sure! It’s more a wonder, by half, that I a’n’t dead; for I cried so that my eyes grew quite little; and I looked quite a fright; and I grew so hoarse that nobody could tell a word I said; though I talked enough, I’m sure; for nothing can hinder me of my talking, if it was never so, papa says.’
Juliet now, upon closer enquiry, learnt that Flora had neither had a fever, nor desired a meeting; and that Mrs Pierson had neither written the letter, nor given any orders about a return post-chaise.
The passing suspicions which already had occurred to Juliet in disfavour of Sir Lyell Sycamore, returned, now, with redoubled force. That he had made signs to the driver to quit the high road, however dismaying, she had attributed to sudden impulse, upon meeting her alone in a post-chaise; and had not doubted that, upon seeing the sincerity of her resentment, he would have retired with shame and repentance: but a plan thus concerted to get her into his power, changed apprehension into certainty, and indignation into abhorrence.
The happy accident to which she owed her escape, even from the knowledge, till it was past, of her danger, she now blessed with rapture; and the junket, so disdained and rejected, she now felt that she could never recollect without grateful delight.
But how return to Brighthelmstone? What vehicle find? How trust herself to any even when procured?
She enquired of Flora whether it were possible that Mrs Pierson could grant her one night’s lodging?
The smiles, the dimples, and the good humour of the simple girl, all revived, and played about her pretty face, at this request. ‘O yes!’ she cried. ‘Miss Ellis, I shall be so glad to have you come! for mamma and I are so dull together that I’m quite moped. I don’t like it by half as well as I did the shop. So many smart gentlemen and ladies coming in and out every moment! dressed so nice, and speaking so polite! I’m obliged to wear all my worst things, now, to save my others, mamma says, for fear of the expence. And it makes me not look as well by half, as I did at Miss Matson’s. I looked well enough there, I believe; as people told me; at least the gentlemen. But I go such a dowd, here, that it’s enough to frighten you. I’m sure when I go to the glass, and that’s a hundred times a-day, for aught I know, if it were counted, to see what sort of a figure I make, I could break it with pleasure, for seeing me such a disguise; for I look quite ugly, unless I happen to be in my smilings.’
This prattle was interrupted by a signal from Mr Tedman, that made Juliet hope that he was now ready to depart; but, upon approaching him, he only said, ‘Come hither, my dear, and sit down a bit, upon this bench, for we can’t go yet. I have not given all my presents. And I don’t care to leave ’em!’ winking significantly: ‘not that I mean to doubt any body; only it’s as well have a sharp eye. We are all honestest with good looking after.’
Juliet now was surrounded by young farmers, who offered her cakes or ale, and asked her hand for the ensuing dance; while young Gooch collected around him an admiring audience, to listen to his account, how he and the young gentlewoman, who was so pretty, had acted together in a play.
Mr Tedman then bid her divine how his cousin Gooch was employed, and why the presents were not yet delivered? and upon her declared inability to conjecture, ‘Would you believe it, my dear?’ he cried, ‘For all Tim drove us such a good round trot, the quality got the start of us! And now he’s in the kitchen, with cousin Gooch, taking a cup of ale!’
The disturbance of Juliet at this intelligence, he thought simply surprize, and continued, ‘Nay, it was not easy to guess, sure enough. He must have rid over every thing, hedge, ditch, and the like. But your quality’s not over mindful of other people’s property. He’s come to buy some hay. He come o’purpose, he says. And he’s a mortal good customer, for he says nothing but, “Mighty well! That’s very reasonable, indeed! I thought it had been twice the price!” Old coz chuckles, I warrant him! Your quality’s but a poor hand at a bargain. I would not employ ’em, between you and I. They never know what they are about.’
They were now joined by Mr Gooch, a hale, hearty, cherry-cheeked dapper farmer, fair in all his dealings, and upright in all his principles, except when they had immediate reference to his professional profits. ‘Well!’ he cried, ”Squire!’ rubbing his hands in great glee. ‘I’ve had a good chapman enough here! I’ve often seen un at our races, but I little thought of having to chaffer with un. Howsever, one may have worse luck with one’s money. A don’t much understand business. But who’s that pretty lass with ye, ‘Squire? Some play-mate, I warrant, of cousin Molly? And why did no’ cousin Molly come, too? A’d a have been heartily welcome. And perhaps a’d a picked up a sweetheart.’
‘Stop, father, stop!’ cried young Gooch: ‘I’ve something to say to you. You know how you’ve always stood to it, that you would not believe a word about all those battles, and guillotines, and the like, of Mounseer Robert Speer, in foreign parts; though I told you, over and over, that I had it from our club? Well! here’s a person now here, in your own grounds, that’s seen it all with her own eyes! So if you don’t believe it, never believe it as long as you live.’
‘Like enough not, Tim,’ answered the father: ‘I do no’ much give my mind to believing all them outlandish fibs, told by travellers. I can hear staring stories eno’ by my own fire-side. And I a’n’t over friendly to believing ’em there. But, bless my heart! for a man for to come for to go for to pretend telling me, because it be a great ways off, and I can’t find un out, that there be a place where there comes a man, who says, every morning of his life, to as many of his fellow-creatures as a can set eyes on, whether they be man, woman, or baby; here, mount me two or three dozen of you into that cart, and go and have your heads chopt off! And that they’ll make no more ado, than go, only because they’re bid! Why if one will believe such staring stuff as that be, one may as well believe that the moon be made of cream-cheese, and the like. There’s no sense in such a set of lies; for life’s life every where, even in France; though it be but a poor starving place, at best, without pasture, or cattle; or corn, either, fit for a man for to eat.’
‘Ay, father, ay; but Bob Spear, as we call him at our club—’
‘Y’re young, y’re young, Tim,’ interrupted Mr Gooch; ‘and your youngsters do believe every thing. When you’ve sowed your wild oats, you’ll know better. But we mustn’t all be calves at the same time. If there were none for to give milk, there’d be none for to suck. So it be all for the best. And that makes me for to take it the less to heart, when I do see you be such a gudgeon, Tim, with no more sense than to swallow neat down every thing that do come in your way. But you’ll never thrive, Tim, till you be like to what I be; people do tell such a peck of staring lies, that I do no’ believe, nor I wo’no’ believe one mortal word by hear-say.’
‘For my part,’ said Mr Tedman, ‘I never enquire into all that, whether it be true, or whether it be false; because it’s nothing to me either way; and one wastes a deal of time in idle curiosity, about things that don’t concern one; put in case one can’t turn them to one’s profit.’
‘That’s true, coz,’ said Mr Gooch; ‘for as to profit, there be none to come from foreign parts: for they be all main poor thereabout; for, they do tell me, that there be not a man among un, as sets his eyes, above once in his life, or thereabout, upon a golden guinea! And as to roast beef and plum-pudding, I do hear that they do no’ know the taste of such a thing. So that they be but a poor stinted race at best, for they can never come to their natural growth.’
‘What, then, you do believe what folks tell you sometimes, father?’ cried the son, grinning.
‘To be sure I do, Tim; when they do tell me somewhat that be worth a man’s hearing.’
They were now joined by Mr Stubbs, who, seeing Juliet, was happy in the opportunity of renewing her favourite enquiries, relative to the agricultural state of the continent.
Mr Gooch, extremely surprized, exclaimed, ‘Odds heart! Why sure such a young lass as that be, ha’n’t been across seas already? Why a couldn’t make out their gibberish, I warrant me! for’t be such queer stuff that they do talk, all o’un, that there’s no getting at what they’d be at; unless one larns to speak after the same guise, like to our boarding-school misses. I’ve seen one or two o’un myself, that passed here about; but their manner o’ talk was so out of the way, I could no’ make out a word they did say. T’might all be Dutch for me. And I found ’em vast ignorant. They knew no more than my horse when land ought to be manured, from when it ought for to lie fallow. I did ask un a many questions; but a could no’ answer me, for to be understood.’
‘But, for all that, Master Gooch,’ said Mr Stubbs, ‘my late Lord has told me that France is sincerely a fine country, if they knew how to make the most of it; but the waste lands are quite out of reason; for they are such a boggling set of farmers, that they grow nothing but what comes, as one may say, of itself.’
‘France a fine country, Maister Stubbs? Well, that be a word I did no’ count to hear from a man of your sense. Why’t be as poor a place as ye might wish to set eyes on, all over-run with weeds, and frogs, and the like. Why ye be as frenchified as Tim, making out them mounseers to be a parcel of Jack the Giant-killers, lopping off heads for mere play, as a body may say. However, here be one that’s come to our hop, that be a finer spark than there be in all France, I warrant me: for a makes a bow as like to a mounseer, as if a was twin-brother to un; and a was so ready to pay down his money handsomely, I could no’ but say a’d be welcome to our junket; for a says a does like such a thing more than all them new fangled balls and concerts.’
‘Oh, and you believe that upon hear-say do you, father?’ cried Tim, sneeringly.
‘Yes, to be sure, I do, Tim. When a man do say a thing that ha’ got some sense in it, why should no’ I believe un, Tim?’
Juliet, who from what had preceded, had concluded the Baronet to be gone, earnestly now pressed Mr Tedman to fulfil his kind engagement; but in vain: Mr Gooch brought his best silver tankard, to insist upon his cousin’s drinking success to the new purchase, that occasioned the junket; and Tim was outrageous at the proposal of retiring, just as the feats were going to commence. ‘Before five minutes are over,’ said he, ‘the pig will begin!’
‘Well,’ answered Mr Tedman, ‘it is but a silly thing, to be sure, things of that sort; and I never give my mind to them; but still, as it’s a thing I never saw, put in case you’ve no objections, we’ll just stay for the pig, my dear.’
Flora, having now gathered that the quality meant Sir Lyell Sycamore, began dancing and singing, in a childish extacy of delight, that shewed her already, in idea, Lady Sycamore, when, turning to Juliet with sudden and angry recollection, her smiles, gaiety, and capering gave way to a bitter fit of crying, and she exclaimed, ‘But if he is here, it will be nothing to me, I dare say, if Miss Ellis is here the while; for he won’t look at me, almost, when she is by: will he? For some people play one so false, that one might as well be as ugly as the cat, almost, when they are in the way.’
‘Don’t be fretted, Miss Flora,’ cried young Gooch, soothingly; ‘for I shall ask Miss Ellis to dance myself; for as I shall begin the hop, because of its being our own, I think I’ve a good right to chuse my partner; so don’t be fretted, so, Miss Flora, for you’ll have the Baronight left to you whether he will or no! But come; don’t let’s lose time; if you’ll follow me, you won’t want sport, I can tell you; for the beginning’s to be a syllabub under the cow.’
Flora was not too proud to accept this consolation; but Juliet positively declared that she should not dance; and earnestly entreated that some one might be found to conduct her to Mrs Pierson’s.
Flora, recovering her spirits, with the hopes of getting rid of her rival, whispered, ‘If you’re in real right earnest, Miss Ellis, and don’t say you want to go, only to make a fool of me, which I shall take pretty unkind, I assure you; why I can shew you the way so as you can’t miss it, if you’d never so. And I’m sure I shall be glad enough to have you go, if I must needs speak without a compliment. Only don’t tell mamma who’s here, for she don’t like persons of quality, she says, because of their bad designs; but I’m sure if she was to hear ’em talk as I do, she’d think quite another opinion: wouldn’t she?’
Fortunately for the intentions of Juliet, which were instantly to make known to Mrs Pierson the new danger of her daughter, Flora waited not for any answer to this injunction; but set out, prattling incessantly as they went on, to put the willing Juliet on her way to Lewes.
The cry, however, from young Gooch, of ‘Come! Where are the young ladies? The pig’s ready!’ caught the ears of Flora, with charm not to be resisted; and, hastily pointing out a style, to pass into the meadow, and another, to pass thence to the high road, she capered briskly back; fearing to miss some of the sport, if not a seat next to the Baronet.
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |