CHAPTER XVIII.
A FLASH OF LIGHT
The Carrier, with a decisive gesture, ceased from both solid and liquid food, and settled his face, and whole body, and members into a grim and yet flexible aspect, as if he were driving a half-broken horse, and must be prepared for any sort of start. And yet with all this he reconciled a duly receptive deference, and a pleasant readiness, as if he were his own Dobbin, just fresh from stable.
"I need not tell you, Master Cripps," said Russel, "how I have picked up the many little things, which have been coming to my knowledge lately. And I will not be too positive about any of them; because I made such a mistake in the beginning of this inquiry. All my suspicions at first were set on a man who was purely innocent – a legal gentleman of fair repute, to whom I have now made all honourable amends. In the most candid manner he has forgiven me, and desires no better than to act in the best faith with us."
"Asking your pardon for interrupting – did the gentleman happen to have a sharp name?"
"Yes, Cripps, he did. But no more of that. I was over sharp myself, no doubt; he is thoroughly blameless, and more than that, his behaviour has been most generous, most unwearying, most – I never can do justice to him."
"Well, your Worship, no – perhaps not. A would take a rare sharp un to do so."
"You hold by the vulgar prejudice – well, I should be the last to blame you. That, however, has nothing to do with what I want to ask you. But first, I must tell you my reason, Cripps. You know I have no faith whatever in that man John Smith. At first I thought him a tool of Mr. – never mind who – since I was so wrong. I am now convinced that John Smith is 'art and part' in the whole affair himself. He has thrown dust in our eyes throughout. He has stopped us from taking the proper track. Do you remember what discredit he threw on your sister's story?"
"He didn't believe a word of un. Had a good mind, I had, to a' knocked un down."
"To be sure, Cripps, I wonder that you forbore. Though violent measures must not be encouraged. And I myself thought that your sister might have made some mistakes through her scare in the dark. Poor thing! Her hair can have wanted no bandoline ever since, I should fancy. What a brave girl too not to shriek or faint!"
"Well, her did goo zummut queer, sir, and lie down in the quarry-pit. Perhaps 'twas the wisest thing the poor young wench could do."
"No doubt it was – the very wisest. However, before she lost her wits she noticed, as I understand her to say – or rather she was particularly struck with the harsh cackling voice of the taller man, who also had a pointed hat, she thinks. It was not exactly a cackling voice, nor a clacking voice, nor a guttural voice, but something compounded of all three. Your sister, of course, could not quite so describe it; but she imitated it; which was better."
"Her hath had great advantages. Her can imitate a'most anything. Her waited for months on a College-chap, the very same in whose house we be sitting now."
"Cripps, that is strange. But to come back again. Your sister, who is a very nice girl, indeed, and a good member of a good family – "
"Ay, your Worship, that her be. Wish a could come across the man as would dare to say the contrairy!"
"Now, Cripps, we never shall get on, while you are so horribly warlike. Are you ready to listen to me, or not?"
"Every blessed word, your Worship, every blessed word goeth down; unto such time as you begins to spake of things at home to me."
"Such dangerous topics I will avoid. And now for the man with this villainous voice. You knew, or at any rate now you know, that I never was satisfied with that wretched affair that was called an 'Inquest.' Inquest a non inquirendo – but I beg your pardon, my good Cripps. Enough that the whole was pompous child's play, guided by crafty hands beneath; as happens with most inquests. I only doubted the more, friend Cripps; I only doubted the more, from having a wrong way taken to extinguish doubts."
"To be sure, your Worship; a lie on the back of another lie makes un go heavier."
"Well, never mind; only this I did. For a few days perhaps I was overcome; and the illness of my dear old friend, the Squire, and the trouble of managing so that he should not hear anything to kill him; and my own slowness at the back of it all; for I never, as you know, am hasty – these things, one and another, kept me from going on horseback anywhere."
"To be sure, your Worship, to be sure. You ought to be always a-horseback. I've a-seed you many times on the Bench; but you looks a very poor stick there compared to what 'ee be a-horseback."
"Now, Cripps, where is your reverence? You call me 'your Worship,' and in the same breath contemn my judicial functions. I must commit you for a week's hard labour at getting in and out of your own cart, if you will not allow me to speak, Cripps. At last I have frightened you, have I? Then let me secure the result in silence. Well, after the weather began to change from that tremendous frost and snow, and the poor Squire fell into the quiet state that he has been in ever since, I found that nothing would do for me, my health not being quite as usual – "
"Oh, your Worship was wonderfully kind; they told me you was as good as any old woman in the room almost!"
"Except to take long rides, Cripps, nothing at all would do for me. And, not to speak of myself too much, I believe that saved me from falling into a weak, and spooney, and godless state. I assure you there were times – however, never mind that, I am all right now, and – "
"Thank the Lord! you ought to say, sir; but you great Squires upon the bench – "
"Thank the Lord! I do say, Cripps; I thank Him every day for it. But if I may edge in a word, in your unusually eloquent state, I will tell you just what happened to me. I never believed, and never will, that poor Miss Oglander is dead. The coroner and the jury believed that they had her remains before them, although for the Squire's sake they forbore to identify her in the verdict. Your sister, no doubt, believed the same; and so did almost every one. I could not go, I could not go – no doubt I was a fool; but I could not face the chance of what I might see, after what I had heard of it. Well, I began to ride about, saying nothing of course to any one. And the more I rode, the more my spirit and faith in good things came back to me. And I think I have been rewarded, Cripps; at last I have been rewarded. It is not very much; but still it is like a flash of light to me. I have found out the man with the horrible voice."
"Lord have mercy upon me! your Worship – the man as laid hold of the pick-axe!"
"I have found him, Cripps, I do believe. But rather by pure luck than skill."
"There be no such thing as luck, your Worship; if you will excoose me. The Lord in heaven is the master of us!"
"Upon my word, it looks almost like it, though I never took that view of things. However, this was the way of it. To-day is Saturday. Well, it was last Wednesday night, I was coming home from a long, and wet, and muddy ride to Maidenhead. That little town always pleases me; and I like the landlord and the hostler, and I am sure that my horse is fed – "
"Your Worship must never think such a thing, without you see it mixed, and feel it, and watch him a-munching, until he hath done."
"More than that, I have always fancied, ever since that story was about the bag of potatoes you brought, without knowing any more of it – ever since I heard of that, it has seemed to me that more inquiries ought to be made at Maidenhead. I need not say why; but I know that the Squire's opinion had been the same, as long as – I mean while – his health permitted. On Wednesday I went to the foreman of the nursery whence the potatoes came. It was raining hard, and he was in a shed, with a green baize apron on, seeing to some potting work. I got him away from the other men, and I found him a very sharp fellow indeed. He remembered all about those potatoes, especially as Squire Oglander had ridden from Oxford, in the snowy weather, to ask many questions about them. But the Squire could not put the questions I did. The poor old gentleman could not bear, of course, to expose his trouble. But I threw away all little scruples (as truly I should have done long ago), and I told the good foreman every word, so far as we know it yet, at least. He was shocked beyond expression – people take things in such different ways – not at the poor Squire's loss and anguish, but that anybody should have dared to meddle with his own pet 'oakleafs,' and, above all, his new pet seal.
"'I sealed them myself,' he said, 'sealed them myself, sir, with the new coat of arms that we paid for that month, because of the tricks of the trade, sir! Has anybody dared to imitate – ' 'No, Mr. Foreman,' I said, 'they simply cut away your seal altogether, and tied it again, without any seal.' 'Oh, then,' he replied, 'that quite alters the case. If they had only meddled with our new arms, while the money was hot that we paid for them, what a case we might have had! But to knock them off – no action lies.'
"Cripps, it took me a very long time to warm him up to the matter again, after that great disappointment. He was burning for some great suit at law against some rival nursery, which always pays the upstart one; but I led him round, and by patient words and simple truth brought him back to reason. The packing of the bag he remembered well, and the pouring of a lot of buck-wheat husks around and among the potato sets, to keep them from bruising, and to keep out frost, which seemed even then to be in the air. And he sent his best man to the Oxford coach, the first down coach from London, which passed by their gate about ten o'clock, and would be in Oxford about two, with the weather and the roads as usual. In that case, the bag could scarcely have been at the Black Horse more than half an hour before you came and laid hold of it; and being put into the bar, as the Squire's parcels always are, it was very unlikely to be tampered with."
"Lord a' mercy! your Worship, it was witchcraft then! The same as I said all along; it were witches' craft, and nothing else."
"Stop, Cripps, don't you be in such a hurry. But wait till you hear what I have next to tell. But oh, here comes my friend Hardenow, as punctual as the clock strikes two! Well, old fellow, how are you getting on?"
CHAPTER XIX.
A STORMY NIGHT
The Rev. Thomas Hardenow, fellow and tutor of Brasenose, strode into his own room at full speed, and stopped abruptly at sight of the Carrier. "Of all men, most I have avoided thee," was in his mind; but he spoke it not, though being a strongly outspoken man. Not that he ever had done any wrong to make him be shy of the Cripps race; but that he felt in his heart a desire for commune, which must be dangerous. He knew that in him lurked a foolish tendency towards Esther; and (which was worse) he knew that she had done her best to overcome a still more foolish turn towards him.
Cripps, however (who would have fed the doves of Venus on black peas), looked upon any little bygone "coorting" as a social and congenial topic, enabling a quiet man to get on (if he only had a good memory) with almost any woman. Like a sensible man, he had always acquitted Hardenow of any blame in the matter, knowing that young girls' fancies may be caught without any angling. "If her chose to be a fool, how were he to blame for it?" And the Carrier never forgot the stages of social distinction. "Servant, sir," he therefore said, with his usual salaam; "hope I see you well, sir."
"Thank you, Zacchary," said Mr. Hardenow, taking the Carrier's horny palm (which always smelled of straps and buckles), and trying to squeeze it, with a passive result, "I am pretty well, Zacchary, thank you."
"Then you don't look it, sir, that you doesn't. We heerd you was getting on wonderful well. But the proof of the puddin' ain't in you, sir."
"That's right, Cripps," cried Overshute; "give it to him, Cripps! Why, he starves himself! Ever since he took his first and second, and got his fellowship and took orders, he hasn't known what a good dinner is. He keeps all the fasts in the calendar, and the vigils of the festivals, and he ought to have an appetite for the feasts; but he overstays his time, and can't keep anything on his stomach!"
"Now, Russel, as usual!" Hardenow answered, with a true and pleasant smile; "what a fine fellow you would be, if you only had moderation! But I see that you want to talk to Cripps; and I have several men waiting in the quad. Where is my beaver? Oh! here, to be sure! Will you come with us? No, of course you can't. Will you dine in hall with me?"
"Of course, I won't. But come you and dine with me on Sunday – the only day you dare eat a bit – and my mother will do her best to strengthen you, build you up, establish you, for a fortnight of macaroni. Will you come?"
"Yes, yes, to-morrow – to be sure – I have many things I want to say to you. Good-bye for the present; good-bye, Master Cripps."
"There goes one of the finest fellows, of all the fine fellows yet ruined by rubbish!" With these words Russel Overshute ran to the window and looked out. A dozen or more of young men were waiting, the best undergraduates of the college, for Mr. Hardenow to lead them for fifteen miles, without a word.
"Well, every man to his liking," said Russel; "but that would be about the last of mine. Now, Cripps, most patient of carriers, are you ready for me to go on or not?"
"I hath a been thinking about my horse. How greedy o' me to be ating like this" – for the thought of so much fasting had made him set to again, while he got the chance – "drinking likewise of college ale – better I have tasted, but not often – and all this time, as you might say, old Dobbin easing of his dainty foot, with no more nor a wisp of hay to drag through his water – if he hath any."
"An excruciating picture, Cripps, drawn by too vivid a conscience. Dobbin is as happy as he can be, with twenty-five horses to talk to him. At this very moment I behold him munching choicest of white oats and chaff."
"Your Worship can see through a stone-wall, they say; but they only keeps black oats at the Cross just now, along of a contract the landlord have made – and a blind sort of bargain, to my thinking – "
"Never mind that – let him have black oats then, or Irish oats, or no oats at all. But do you wish to hear my story out, or will you leave it till next Saturday?"
"Sir, you might a' seen as I was waiting, until such time as you plaze to go on wi' un."
"Very well, Cripps, that satisfies the most exacting historian. I will go on where I left off, if that point can be established. Well, I left the foreman of the nursery telling me about the man he sent with the bag of potatoes to the Oxford coach. He told me he was one of his sharpest hands, who had been off work for a week or two then, and had only returned that morning. 'Joe Smith' was his name; and when they could get him to work, he would do as much work as any two other men on the place. He might be trusted with anything, if he only undertook it; but the worst of him was that he never could be got to stick long to anything. Here to-day and gone to-morrow had always been his character; and they thought that he must be of gipsy race, and perhaps had a wandering family.
"This made me a little curious about the man; and I asked to see him. But the foreman said that for some days now he had not been near the nursery, and they thought that he was on the Oxford road, in the neighbourhood of Nettlebed; and another thing – if I did see him, I could not make out more than half he said, for the man had such a defect in his voice, that only those who were used to him could be certain of his meaning. Suddenly I thought of your sister's tale, and I said to the foreman, 'Does he speak like this?' imitating as well as I could your sister's imitation of him. 'You know the man, sir,' the foreman answered; 'you have got him so exactly, that you must have heard him many times.' I told him no more, but asked him to describe Joe Smith's appearance. He answered that he was a tall, dark man, loosely built, but powerful, with a stoop in his neck, and a long sharp nose; and he generally wore a brown pointed hat.
"Cripps, you may well suppose that my suspicions were strong by this time. Here was your sister's description – so far as the poor girl could see in the dusk and the fright – confirmed to the very letter; and here was the clear opportunity offered for slipping the wreath of hair into the bag."
"Your Worship, now, your Worship! you be a bit too sharp! If that there man were at Headington quarry at nightfall of the Tuesday, how could he possible a' been to Maidenhead next morning? No, no, your Worship are too sharp."
"Too thick, you mean, Cripps; and not sharp enough. But listen to me for a moment. Those long-legged gipsies think very little of going thirty miles in a night; though they never travel by day so. And then there is the up mail-coach. Of course he would not pay his fare, but he might hang on beneath the guard's bugle, with or without his knowledge, and slip away at the changing-houses. Of that objection I think nothing. It serves to my mind as a confirmation."
"Very well, sir," said Cripps discreetly; "who be I for to argify?"
"No, Cripps, of course not. But still I wish to allow you to think of everything. You may not be right; but still I like you to speak when you think of anything. That is what I have always said, and contended for continually – let every man speak – when sensible."
"Your Worship hath hit the mark again. The old Squire saith, 'let no man speak,' as St. Paul sayeth of the women. But your Worship saith 'let all men speak, all women likewise, as hath a tongue' – and then you stoppeth us both the more, by restirrecting all on us, women or men, whichever a may happen, till such time as all turns up sensible. Now, there never could ever be such a time!"
"Carrier, you are satirical. Keep from the Dusty Anvil, Cripps. Marry a wife, and you will have a surfeit of argument at home. But still you have been very good on the whole, and you never will get home to-night. At any rate, I was so convinced, in spite of all smaller difficulties, that I bound the foreman to let me know, by a man on horseback, at any expense, the moment he saw Joe Smith again. And his parting words to me were these – 'Well, sir, don't you think harm of Joe without sure proof against him. He is a random chap, I know; but I never saw a better man to earn his wages.'
"Well, I went back to the inn at once, and rode leisurely to Henley. It was raining hard, and the river in flood with all the melted snow and so on, when I crossed that pretty bridge. I had been trying in vain to think what was the best thing I could do; not liking to go home, and leave my new discovery so vague. But being soaked and chilly now, I resolved to have a glass of something hot, for fear of taking a violent cold, and losing perhaps a week by it. So I went into the entrance of that good inn by the waterside, and called for some brandy and water hot. The landlord was good enough to come out; and knowing me from old boating days, he got into a talk with me. I had helped him at the sessions about a house of his at Dorchester; and nothing could exceed his good will. Remembering how the gipsies hang about the boats and the waterside, I asked him (quite as a random shot) whether any of them happened to be in the neighbourhood just now. He thought perhaps that I was timid about my dark ride homeward, and he told me all he knew of them. There was one lot, as usual, in the open ground about Nuneham, and another large camp near Chalgrove, and another, quite a small pitch that, on the edge of the firs above Nettlebed.
"This last was the lot for me; and I pressed him so about them, that he looked at me with a peculiar grin. 'What do you mean by that?' I asked. 'Now, Squire Overshute, as if you did not know!' he answered. 'Doth your Worship happen to remember Cinnaminta's name?'
"Cripps, I assure you I was astonished. Of course you knew Cinnaminta – well, I don't want to be interrupted. No one could say any harm of her; and a lovelier girl was never seen. The landlord had heard some bygone gossip about Cinnaminta and myself. I did admire her. I am not ashamed to say that I greatly admired her. And so did every young fellow here, who had got a bit of pluck in him. I will not go into that question; but you know what Cinnaminta was."
Cripps nodded, with a thick mixture of feelings. His poetical self had been smitten more with Cinnaminta than he cared to tell; and his practical self was getting into a terrible hubbub about his horse. "To be sure, your Worship," was all he said.
"Very well, now you understand me. To hear of Cinnaminta being in that camp at Nettlebed made me so determined that I laid hold of the landlord by the collar without thinking. He begged me not to ride off with him, or his business would be ruined; and feeling that he weighed about eighteen stone, I left him on his threshold.
"I could not bear to ask him now another word of anything. Knowing looks, and winks, and reeking jokes so irritate me, when I know that a woman is pure and good. You remember how we all lost Cinnaminta. Three or four score of undergraduates, reckless of parental will, had offered her matrimony; and three or four newly-elected fellows were asking whether they would vacate, if they happened to jump the broomstick."
"All that were too fine to last," muttered Cripps, most sensibly. "But her ought to a' had a sound man on the road – a man with a horse well seasoned, and a substantial cart – her ought."
"Oh, then, Cripps, you were smitten too! A nice connection for light parcels! Well, never mind. The whole thing is over. We all are sadder and wiser men; but we like to know who the chief sufferer is – what man has won the beauty. And with this in my mind, I rode up the hill, and resolved to go through with my seeking.
"When I got to the end of 'the fair-mile,' the night came down in earnest. You know my young horse 'Cantelupe,' freckled like a melon. He knows me as well as my old dog; and a child can ride him. But in the dark he gets often nervous, and jumps across the road, if he sees what he does not consider sociable. So that one must watch his ears, whatever the weather may be. And now the weather was as bad as man or horse could be out in.
"All day, there had been spits of rain, with sudden puffs of wind, and streaks of green upon the sky, and racing clouds with ragged edges. You remember the weather of course; Wednesday is one of your Oxford days. Well, I hope you were home before it began to pelt as it did that evening. For myself I did not care one fig. I would rather be drenched than slowly sodden. But I did care for my horse; because he had whistled a little in the afternoon, and his throat is slightly delicate. And the whirr of the wind in the hedge, and the way it struck the naked branches back, like the clashing of clubs against the sky, were enough to make even a steady old horse uneasy at the things before him. Moreover, the road began to flash with that peculiar light which comes upward or downward – who can tell? – in reckless tumults of the air and earth. The road was running like a river; come here and go there, like glass it shone with the furious blows of the wind striking a pale gleam out of it. I stooped upon Cantelupe's neck, or the wind would have dashed me back over his crupper.
"Suddenly in this swirl and roar, my horse stood steadfast. He spread his fore legs and stooped his head to throw his balance forward; and his mane (which had been lashing my beard) swished down in a waterfall of hair. I was startled as much as he was, and in the strange light stared about. 'You have better eyes than I have,' I said, 'or else you are a fool, Canty.'
"I thought that he was a fool, until I followed the turn of his head, and there I saw a white thing in the ditch. Something white or rather of a whity-brown colour was in the trough, with something dark leaning over it. 'Who are you there?' I shouted, and the wind blew my voice back between my teeth.
"'Nort to you, master. Nort to you. Go on, and look to your own consarns.'
"This rough reply was in a harsh high cackle, rather than a human voice; but it came through the roar of the tempest clearly, as no common voice could come. For a moment, I had a great mind to do exactly as I was ordered. But curiosity, and perhaps some pity for the fellow, stopped me. 'I will not leave you, my friend,' I said, 'until I am sure that I can do no good.' The man was in such trouble, that he made no answer which I could hear, so I jumped from my horse, who would come no nearer; and holding the bridle, I went up to see.
"In as sheltered a spot as could be found, but still in a dripping and weltering place, lay, or rather rolled and kicked, a poor child in a most violent fit. 'Don't 'ee now, my little Tom; don't 'ee, that's a deary, don't!' The man kept coaxing, and moaning, and trying to smooth down little legs and arms. 'Let it have its way,' I said; 'only keep the head well up; and try to put something between the teeth.' Without any answer, he did as I bade; and what he put betwixt the teeth must have been his own great thumb. Of course he mistook me for a doctor. None but a doctor was likely to be out riding on so rough a night."
"Ah, how I do pity they poor chaps!" cried Carrier Cripps, who really could not wait one minute longer. "Many a naight I mates 'em a starting for ten or twenty maile of it, just when I be in the smell o' my supper, and nort but nightcap arterward. Leastways, I mean, arter pipe and hot summat. Your Worship'll 'scoose me a-breakin' in. But there's half my arrands to do yet, and the sun gone flat on the Radcliffe! The Lord knows if I shall get home to-night. But if I doos – might I make so bold – your Worship be coming to see poor Squire? Your Worship is not like some worships be – and I has got a rare drop of fine old stuff! Your Worship is not the man to take me crooked. I means no liberty, mind you."
"Of that I am certain," Mr. Overshute answered. "Cripps, your suggestion just hits the mark. I particularly want to see your sister. That was my object in seeking you. And I did not like to see her, until you should have had time to prepare her. I have several things to see to here, and then I will ride to Beckley. Mrs. Hookham will give me a bit of dinner, when I have seen my dear friend the Squire. At night, I will come down, and smoke a pipe, and finish my story with you, as soon as I am sure you have had your supper."
"Never you pay no heed at all," said Master Cripps, with solemnity, "to no thought of my zupper, sir. That be entire what you worships call a zecondary consideration. However, I will have un, if so be I can. And you mustn't goo for to think, sir, that goo I would now, if stay I could. I goes with that there story, the same as the jog of a cart to the trot of the nag. My wits kapes on agoin' up and down. But business is a piece of the body, sir. But no slape for me; nor no church to-morrow; wi'out I hears the last of that there tale!"