Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 37, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 April 1905 — CRIPPS, THE CARRIER [ARTICLE]

CRIPPS, THE CARRIER

BY R. D. BLACKMORE

Author of “LORNA DOONE,” “ALICE LORRAI N E,” ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER XV. Mr. John Smith had surprised his friends, ami disappointed the entire public. by finding oift nothing at all about anything after his one great discovery, made with the help of the British army. For some cause or other, best known to himself, he'had dropped his indefatigability and taken to very grave shakes of his head instead of .nimble footings. He feigned to be very busy still with this leading case of the neighborhood; but though his superiors might believe it, his underlings were not to be misled. All of these knew whether Mr. John was launching thunderbolts or throwing dust, and wore well aware that he had quite taken up with the latter process in the Beckley ease. But still, whatever his *feelings. were, or his desires in the matter, the resolute face and active step of this intelligent officer were often to be seen and heard at Beckley; and to several persons in the village they were becoming welcome. He, had several good reasons-of his own for haunting the village as he did; one of them being that he thus- obeyed the genera! orders he had received. Also he really liked the Squire, his victuals, and his domestics. Among these latter he had quite outlived any little prejudice created by his early manner; and even Mary Ilookham was now inclined to use him as an irritant, or stimulant, for the lukewarm Cripps. "How is the fine old gentleman now? Mary, my love, how is he?"’ Mr. Smith asked, as he pulled off his cloak in the lobby, just after church time. “I hope you find him getting better. Everything now is looking up again.” “Xo, Mr. Smith; he is very sadly, thanking you, sir. for inquiring of him. He do seem a little better one day, and then there come something all over him again, the same as might be this here cloak, sir, thrown on the head of that there stick. But come in and see him, Mr. Smith, if you please. I thought it was the parson when you rang. But master will be glad lo see you every bit the same as if you was, no doubt.” John Smith, who was never to he put down by any small .comparisons, followed quick Mary with a steadfast march over the quiet matting. In the long, oldfashioned dining room sat the Squire at the head of his table. For many years it had been his wont to have an early dinner on Sunday, with a knife and fork always ready-for the clergyman, who was a bachelor of middle age. The clergyman came, or did not come, according to his own convenience, without ceremony or apology. "I beg you to excuse,” said the Squire rising, as Smith was shown into the room, “my absence from church this morning,„ Mr. Warbelow. I had quite made up my mind to go, and everything was quite ready, when I did not feel quite so well as usual,, and was ordered to stay at home l .” Squire Oglander made his fine old-fash-ioned bow when he had spoken, and held out his hand fur the parson to take it, as the parson always did, with eyes that gave a look of grief and then fell, and kind lips that murmured that all things were ordered for the best. But instead of the parson's gentle clasp, the Squire, whose sight was beginning to fail altogether with his other faculties, was saluted with a strong, rough grasp, and a gaze from entirely unclerical eyes. “How is your worship? Well nicely, I hope. Charming you look, sir, as ever .1 see.”

“Sir, I thank yoti. I am in good health. But I have not the honor of remembering your name.” “Smith, your worship—John Smith, at your service: as he was the day before yesterday. ‘Olll of sight out of mind,’ the old saying is. I suppose you tiud it so, sir?" With this home thrust, delivered quite unwittingly. Mr. Smith sat down-: his opinion was that* Her klajest y’s service levelled all distinctions. Mr. Oglander gave him one glance, like the keen look of his better days, and then turned away and gazed round the room for something out of sight, but never likely to be out of mind. The old man was weak, and knew his weakness. In the presence of a gentleman he might have broken down and wept, and been much better for it; but before a man of this sort, not a sign would he let out of the sorrow that was killing him. He begged Mr. Smith to take a chair; then, weak as he was, he tottered to the bell pull, rather than ask his guest to ring. John Smith jumped up to help, but felt uncertain what good manners were. “Mary,” said the Squire, when Mary came, “bring in the dinner, if you please. This gentleman will line with me, instead of Mr. Warbelow.” “Well, now, if I ever did!” Miss Ilookhnm exclaimed to herself in the passage. “Why, a’ must be a sort of a gentleman! Master wouldn’t dine along of Master Cripps; but to my mind Znk be the gentleman afore he!" The Squire’s oblique little sarcasm—if sarcasm at all it were—failed to hit Mr. Smith; “give me the carving knife, ed plate and spoon, and fell to at the soup,, which was excellent. The soup was followed by a line sirloin; whereupon Mr. Oglander, through some association of . ideas, could not suppress a little sigh. “Never sigh at your meat, sir,” cried Mr. Smbith; “give me the carving knife, sir, if you are unequal to the situation. To sigh at such a sirloin—oh. lie, or, fie!” “I was thinking of some one who always used to like the brown,” the old man said, in the simplest manner, ns if an apology were needed. “Well, sir, I like the brown very much. I will put it by for myself, sir, and help you to all inner slice. Here, Mary, a plate for your master! Quick! Everything will be cold, my goodness! And who sliced this horseradish, pray? for slicing it is, not scrapings!” Mary was obliged to bite her tongue to keep it in any way mnnnersomc; when the door was thrown open, and in enmo her mother, with her fneo quite white, and both hand* stretched on high. “Oh my! oh my! A sin I call It —a arlskad, cruel, sinful sin!" Widow Hook-

ham excleimeu as soon ns she could speak. “All over the voillage! all over the parish in two days’ time at the latest it will be! Oh, how could your worship allow of it? That Cripps! oh that Cripps! If ever a darter of mine hath Cripps, in spite of two stockings of money, they say ” “What is it about Cripps?” asked the Squire, in a voice that required an immediate answer. The first news of his trouble had come through Cripps; and now, in his helpless condition, lie always connected the name of the carrier with the solution, if one there should be. “He hath done a thing he ought to be ashamed on,” screamed Mrs. Hookham, with such excitement that they were forced to give her another glass of wine; “he hath brought into this parish, and the buzzum of his family, pestilence and death, he hath. And who be he to do such a thing, a road-faring, two-penny carrier?” “Cripps charges a good deal more than twopence,’ said Mr. Oglander quietly; for his hopes and fears were once more postponed. “He hath brought the worst load ever were brought,” cried the widow, growing eloquent. “Black death, and the plague, ,aiul the murrain of Egypt hath come in through Crippe the carrier. How much will he charge Beckley, your worship? How much shall Beckley pay him, when she mourneth for her children? when she spreadeth forth her hands and seeketh north and- south, and cauuot find them, because they are not?” “What is it, good woman?” cried Smith impatiently, “what is all this uproar? Do tell us, and have done with it.”

“Good man,” replied Widow Hookham tartly, “my words arc addressed to your betters, sir. Your worship knoweth well that Master Kale hath leave and license for his Sunday dinner; ever since his poor wife died, he sittetli with a knife and fork to the right side of our cookmaid. He were that genteel, I do assure you, although his appearance bespeaketh it not, and city gents may look down on him; lie had such a sense of propriety, not a word did he say all the time of dinner to raise an objection to the weakest stomach. But as soon as he see that all were done, and the parlor dinner forward, he layeth his finger on his lips, and looketh to me as the prime authority; and when I ask him to spea-k out, no secrets being among good friends, what he said were a deal too much for me, or any other Christian person.” “Well, well, ma’am, if your own dinner was respected, you might have showed some respect for ours,” Mr. Smith exclaimed very sndly, beholding the noble sirloin weeping with lost opportunity. But Mr. Oglander took no notice. To such things lie was indifferent now. “To keep the mind dwelling upon earthly victuals,” the widow replied severely, “on the Lord's day, and with the day of the Lord a hanging special over us —such things is beyond me to deal with, and calls for Mr. Warbelow. Carrier Cripps hath sent his sister over to nurse Squire Overshute.” John Smith pretended to be busy witli liia beef, but Mary, who made a point of watching whatever lie did, startled as she was by her mother’s words, this girl had her quick eyes upon his face, and was sure that it lost color, as the carved sirloin of beef had done from the trickling of the gravy. “Overshute' nurse Mr. Overshute?” cried the Squire, with great astonishment.'' “Why, wliat ails Mr. Overshute? It is a long time since I have seen him, and I thought that he had perhaps forgotten me. He used to come very often, when —but who am I to tempt him? When my darling was here, in the time of my darling, everybody came to visit me; now nobody comes, and of course it is right. There is nobody .for them to look at now, and no one. to make them laugh a little. Ah, she used to make them laugh till I was quite jealous, I do believe; not of myself, bless your heart! but of her, because I never liked her to have too much to say {o anybody, unless it was one who could understand her. And nobody ever turned up that was able, in any way, to understand her, except her poor old father, sir.” The Squire, at the end of this long speech, stood up and flourished his fork, which should have been better employed in feeding him, and looked from face to face, in fear that he had made himself ridiculous. Nobody laughed at him, or even smiled; and he was pleased with this, ami resolved never to give such occasion again; because it would have shamed him so. And after all it was his own business. None of these people could have any idea, and lie hoped they never might have. By this time his mind was dropping softly into some confusion. Bor a few minutes Mr. John Smith had his flourish all about the Queen, and the law of the land, and the jurisdiction of the Bench, and lie threatened the absent Cripps with three months' imprisonment, and perhaps the treadmill. He knew that he was talking unswept rubbish, but his audience was female. They listened to him without leaving olf their work, and their courage increased as Ids did. But presently Mr. Oglander, who had seemed to be taking a nap, arose and said, ns clearly ns ever he had said anything in his clearest days; “Mary, go and tell Charlie to put the saddle on the mare at once." “Oh, sir! whatever are yon thinking of? 1 couldn't do it, I coulfin’t. You ain't nbcen ahorseback for nigh four months, and your orders is to keep quiet iu your chair, mid not even look out o' winder, sir. L)o 'e plaize to go into your slippers, sir.” “I will not go into my slippers, Mary. I will go into my hoots. I hear that Mr. Overshute is ill, and I gather from what you have all been saying that his illness is of such n kind that nobody will go near him. I have wrouged the young gentleman bitterly, nnd I will do my best to right myself. If I never do another thing, I will ride to Shotover this day. Order the mare, as I tell you, nnd the aird will do me good, please God!”

CHAPTER XVI. Now was t*ie happy time when Oxford, ever old, wr.s preparing itself for the sweet leisure for which it is seldom ill prepared. The first and most essential Step is to summon all her students, and send them to chapel to pay their vpws. After this there need be no misgiving or fear of industry. With one accord they issue forth, all pledged to do nothing for the day, week or month; each intellectual lirow is stamped with the strongest resolve not to open a book. This being so, whether winter shatters the Isid wave against Folly Bridge, or spring's arrival rustle in the wavering leaves of Magdalen, or autumn strews the chnstened fragrance of many brewers on ripe air —how much more when beauteous summer fosters the coy down on the lip of the junior sophist like thistle-seed, and casts the freshman’s shadow hotly on the flags of High street —now or never is the proper period not to overwork one’s self and the hour for taking it easy.

After the Easter vacation was over, with too few fattening festivals, the most popular tutor in Braseuose carnfe back to his college work with a very fine appetite for doing good. According, at least, to his own ideas of good and duty, and usefulness; all of which were fundamentally wrong in the opinion of the other tutors. But. Hardenow, while he avoided carefully all disputes with his colleagues, strictly kept to his own course, and doing more work than the other five attempted, was permitted to have his own way, because of the trouble there might be in stopping him. Harnenow took long tramps for the sake of collecting his forces. Saturday was not their proper day for this very admirable coat-tail chase. Neither did they swallow hill and plain iu this manner on a Sunday. Lectures were needful to fetch them to the proper pitch for striding so. Wherefore on the morrow Mr. Hardenow was free for. a cruise on his own account, after morning sermon at St. Mary's; and not having heard of his old friend Russel for several weeks, he resolved to go and hunt him up iu his own home.

As he strode up the hill it was brought home suddenly to his ranging mind that he might be within view of Beckley. At a bend of the rising road he turned, and endwise down a plait of hills, and between soft pillowy folds of trees, the simple old church of Beckley stood. Hardenow thought of the months he had spent, some few years back, in that quiet place; of the long, laborious, lonesome days, the solid hours divided well, the space allotted for each hard drill;, then the glory of sallying into the air, inhaling grander volumes than ever from mortal breath proceeded, and plunging into leaves that speak of one'great Author only. Nor iu this pleasant retrospect of kindness and simplicity was the element of rustic grace and beauty wholly absent—the slight young figure that flitted in and out, with quick desire to please him; the soft pretty smile with which his improvements of Beckley dialect were received; and the sweet gray eyes that filled with tears so the day before his college met. Hardnow had feared, humble-minded as he was, that the young girl might be falling into liking him too well; and he knew that!* there might be on his own part too much reciprocity. Therefore (much as he loved Cripps, and fully as he allowed for all that was to be said upon every side), he had felt himself hound to take uo more than a distant view of Beckley. Even now, after three years and a half, there was some resolve in him to that effect. He turned from the gentle invitation of the distant bells, and went on with his face set towards the house jf his old friend, Overshute. When he came to the lodge it caused him a little surprise to find the gate wide open, and nobody there. But he thought that, as it was Sunday, perhaps the lodge people were gone for a holiday. In this way he came to the door at last, with the fine old porch of Purheck stone heavily overhanging it, and the long wings of the house stretched out, with empty windows either way. Hnrdenow rang and knocked, and then set to and knocked and rang again; and then sat down on a stone balustrade; and then jumped up with just vigor renewed and pushed and pulled. Nobody answered. At last he pushed the great door, and lo! there was nothing to resist his thrust, except its sullen weight. (To be continued.)