Books: My Young Alcides

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> My Young Alcides

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The hall was draughty, but there was a huge wood fire in it, and it
seemed the best place to watch in, so there we sat together, and
Eustace abused the climate and I told stories--dismal ones, I fear--
about sheep and shepherds, dogs and snowdrifts, to the tune of that
peculiar howl that the wind always makes when the blast is snow-
laden; and dinner time came, and I could not make up my mind to go
and dress so as to be out of reach of--I don't know what I expected
to happen. Certainly what did happen was far from anything I had
pictured to myself.

Battling with the elements and plunging in the snow, and seeing,
whenever it slackened, so strange and new a world, was a sort of
sport to Harold, and he strode on, making his goal the highest point
of the moor, whence, if it cleared a little, he would be able to see
to a vast distance. He was curious, too, to look down into the
railway cutting. This was a sort of twig from a branch of the main
line, chiefly due to Lord Erymanth, who, after fighting off the
railway from all points adjacent to his estate, had found it so
inconvenient to be without a station within reasonable distance, that
a single line had at last been made from Mycening for the benefit of
the places in this direction, but not many trains ran on it, for it
was not much frequented.

Harold came to the brow of the cutting, and there beheld the funnel
of a locomotive engine, locomotive no more, but firmly embedded in
the snowdrift into which it had run, with a poor little train of
three or four carriages behind it, already half buried. Not a person
was to be seen, as Harold scrambled and slid down the descent and
lighted on the top of one of the carriages; for, as it proved, the
engineer, stoker, and two or three passengers had left the train an
hour before, and were struggling along the line to the nearest
station. Harold got down on the farther side, which was free of
snow, and looked into all the carriages. No one was there, till, in
a first-class one, he beheld an old gentleman, well wrapped up
indeed, but numb, stiff, and dazed with the sleep out of which he was
roused.

"Tickets, eh?" he said, and he dreamily held one out to Harold and
tried to get up, but he stumbled, and hardly seemed to understand
when Harold told him it was not the station, but that they had run
into the snowdrift; he only muttered something about being met,
staggered forward, and fell into Harold's arms. There was a
carriage-bag on the seat, but Harold looked in vain there for a
flask. The poor old man was hardly sensible. Ours was the nearest
house, and Harold saw that the only chance for the poor old
gentleman's life was to carry him home at once. Even for him it was
no small effort, for his burthen was a sturdy man with the solidity
of years, and nearly helpless, save that the warmth of Harold's body
did give him just life and instinct to hold on, and let himself be
bound to him with the long plaid so as least to impede his movements;
but only one possessed of Harold's almost giant strength could have
thus clambered the cutting at the nearest point to Arghouse and
plodded through the snow. The only wonder is that they were not both
lost. Their track was marked as long as that snow lasted by mighty
holes.

It was at about a quarter-past seven that all the dogs barked, a
fumbling was heard at the door, and a muffled voice, "Let me in."

Then in stumbled a heap of snow, panting, and amid Spitz's frantic
barks, we saw it was Harold, bent nearly double by the figure tied to
him. He sank on his knee, so as to place his burthen on the great
couch, gasping, "Untie me," and as I undid the knot, he rose to his
feet, panting heavily, and, in spite of the cold, bathed in
perspiration.

"Get something hot for him directly," he said, falling back into an
arm-chair, while we broke out in exclamations. "Who--where did you
find him? Some poor old beggar. Not too near the fire--call
Richardson--hot brandy-and-water--bed. He's some poor old beggar,"
and such outcries for a moment or two, till Harold, recovering
himself in a second, explained, "Snowed up in the train. Here, Lucy,
Eustace, rub his hands. Dora, ask Richardson for something hot. Are
you better now, sir?" beginning to pull off the boots that he might
rub his feet; but this measure roused the traveller, who resisted,
crying out, "Don't, don't, my good man, I'll reward you handsomely.
I'm a justice of the peace."

Thick and stifled as it was, the voice was familiar. I looked again,
and screamed out, "Lord Erymanth, is it you?"

That roused him, and as I took hold of both hands and bent over him,
he looked up, dazzled and muttering, "Lucy, Lucy Alison! Arghouse!
How came I here?" and then as the hot cordial came at last, in the
hand of Richardson, who had once been in his service, he swallowed
it, and then leant back and gazed at me as I went on rubbing his
hands. "Thank you, my dear. Is it you? I thought I was snowed up,
and I have never signed that codicil about little Viola, or I could
die easily. It is not such a severe mode, after all."

"But you're not dying, you're only dreaming. You are at Arghouse.
Harold here found you and brought you to us."

And then we agreed that he had better be put to bed at once in
Eustace's room, as there was already a fire there, and any other
would take long in being warmed.

Harold and Eustace got him upstairs between them, and Richardson
followed, while I looked out with dismay at the drifting snow, and
wondered how to send either for a doctor or for Lady Diana in case of
need. He had been a childless widower for many years, and had no one
nearer belonging to him. Dora expressed her amazement that I did not
go to help, but I knew this would have shocked him dreadfully, and I
only sent Colman to see whether she could be of any use.

Harold came out first, and on his way to get rid of his snow-soaked
garments, paused to tell me that the old gentleman had pretty well
come round, and was being fed with hot soup and wine, while he seemed
half asleep. "He is not frost-bitten," added Harold; "but if he is
likely to want the doctor, I'd better go on to Mycening at once,
before I change my things."

But I knew Lord Erymanth to be a hale, strong man of his years,
little given to doctors, and as I heard he had said "No, no," when
Eustace proposed to send for one, I was glad to negative the proposal
from a man already wet through and tired--"well, just a little."

Our patient dropped asleep almost as soon as he had had his meal, in
the very middle of a ceremonious speech of thanks, which sent Eustace
down to dinner more than ever sure that there was nothing like the
aristocracy, who all understood one another; and we left Richardson
to watch over him, and sleep in the dressing-room in case of such a
catastrophe as a rheumatic waking in the night.

We were standing about the fire in the hall, our usual morning
waiting-place before breakfast, and had just received Richardson's
report that his lordship had had a good night, seemed none the worse,
and would presently appear, but that he desired we would not wait
breakfast, when there was a hasty ring at the door, and no sooner was
it opened than Dermot Tracy, battered and worn, in a sou'-wester
sprinkled with snow and with boots up to his thighs, burst into the
hall.

"Alison, you there? All right, I want you," shaking hands in an
agitated way all round, and speaking very fast with much emotion.
"I want you to come and search for my poor uncle. He was certainly
in the train from Mycening that ran into a drift. Men went to get
help; couldn't get back for three hours. He wasn't there--never
arrived at home. My mother is in a dreadful state. Hogg is setting
all the men to dig at the Erymanth end. I've got a lot to begin in
the Kalydon cutting; but you'll come, Alison, you'll be worth a dozen
of them. He might be alive still, you see."

"Thank you, Dermot, I am happy to say that such is the case," said a
voice from the oak staircase, and down it was slowly proceeding Lord
Erymanth, as trim, and portly, and well brushed-up as if he had
arrived behind his two long-tailed bays.

Dermot, with his eyes full of tears, which he was squeezing and
winking away, and his rapid, broken voice, had seen and heard nothing
in our faces or exclamations to prepare him. He started violently
and sprang forward, meeting Lord Erymanth at the foot of the stairs,
and wringing both his hands--nay, I almost thought he would have
kissed him, as he broke out into some incoherent cry of scarcely-
believing joy, which perhaps surprised and touched the old man.
"There, there, Dermot, my boy, your solicitude is--is honourable to
you; but restrain--restrain it, my dear boy--we are not alone." And
he advanced, a little rheumatically, to us, holding out his hand with
morning greetings.

"I must send to my mother. Joe is here with the sleigh," said
Dermot. "Uncle, how did you come here?" he added, as reflection only
made his amazement profounder.

"It is true, as you said just now, that Mr. Harold Alison is equal to
a dozen men. I owe my preservation, under Providence, to him," said
Lord Erymanth, who, though not a small man, had to look far up as
Harold stood towering above us all. "My most earnest acknowledgments
are due to him," he added, solemnly holding out his hand.

"I might have expected that!" ejaculated Dermot, while Harold took
the offered hand with a smile, and a mutter in his beard of "I am
very glad."

"I'll just send a line to satisfy my mother," said Dermot, taking a
pen from the inkstand on the hall-table. "Joe's here with the
sleigh, and we must telegraph to George St. Glear."

Lord Erymanth repeated the name in some amazement, for he was not
particularly fond of his heir.

"Hogg telegraphed to him this morning," and as the uncle observed,
"Somewhat premature," he went on: "Poor Hogg was beside himself; he
came to Arked at ten o'clock last night to look for you, and,
luckily, I was there, so we've been hallooing half the night along
the line, and then getting men together in readiness for the search
as soon as it was light. I must be off to stop them at once. I came
in to get the Alisons' help--never dreamt of such a thing as finding
you here. And, after all, I don't understand--how did you come?"

"I cannot give you a detailed account," said his lordship. "Mr.
Harold Alison roused me from a drowsiness which might soon, very
probably, have been fatal, and brought me here. I have no very
distinct recollection of the mode, and I fear I must have been a
somewhat helpless and encumbering burthen."

Dora put in her oar. "Harry can carry anything," she said; "he
brought you in so nicely on his back--just as I used to ride."

"On his back!"

"Yes," said Dora, who was fond of Mr, Tracy, and glad to impart her
information, "on his back, with his boots sticking out on each side,
so funnily!"

Lord Erymanth endeavoured to swallow the information suavely by the
help of a classical precedent, and said, with a gracious smile, "Then
I perceive we must have played the part of AEneas and Anchises--" But
before he had got so far, the idea had been quite too much for
Dermot, who cried out, "Pick-a-back! With his boots sticking out on
both sides! Thank you, Dora. Oh! my uncle, pick-a-back!" and went
off in an increasing, uncontrollable roar of laughter, while Harold,
with a great tug to his moustache, observed apologetically to Lord
Erymanth, "It was the only way I could do it," which speech had the
effect of so prolonging poor Dermot's mirth, that all the good effect
of the feeling he had previously displayed for his uncle was lost,
and Lord Erymanth observed, in his most dry and solemn manner, "There
are some people who can see nothing but food for senseless ridicule
in the dangers of their friends."

"My dear Lord Erymanth," I said, almost wild, "do just consider
Dermot has been up all night, and has had nothing to eat, and is
immensely relieved to find you all safe. He can't be expected to
quite know what he is about when he is so shaken. Come to breakfast,
and we shall all be better."

"That might be a very sufficient excuse for you or for Viola, my dear
Lucy," returned Lord Erymanth, taking, however, the arm I offered.
"Young _ladies_ may be very amiably hysterical, but a young man, in
my day, who had not trifled away his manliness, would be ashamed of
such an excuse."

There was a certain truth in what he said. Dermot was not then so
strong, nor had he the self-command he would have had, if his life
had been more regular; but he must always have had a much more
sensitive and emotional nature than his uncle could ever understand.
The reproach, however, sobered him in a moment, and he followed us
gravely into the dining-room, without uttering a word for the next
quarter of an hour; neither did Harold, who was genuinely vexed at
having made the old man feel himself ridiculous, and was sorry for
the displeasure with his friend. Nobody did say much except Eustace,
who was delighted at having to play host to such distinguished
guests, and Lord Erymanth himself, who was so gracious and
sententious as quite to restore Dermot's usual self by the time
breakfast was over, and he saw his servant bringing back his sleigh,
in which he offered to convey his uncle either home or to Arked. But
it was still fitfully snowing, and Lord Erymanth was evidently not
without touches of rheumatism, which made him lend a willing ear to
our entreaties to him not to expose himself. Harold then undertook
to go in search of his portmanteau either to the scene of the
catastrophe or the Hall.

"My dear sir, I could not think of exposing you to a repetition of
such inclement weather as you have already encountered. I am well
supplied here, my young friend--I think I may use the term,
considering that two generations ago, at least, a mutual friendship
existed between the houses, which, however obscured for a time--hum--
hum--hum--may be said still to exist towards my dear friend's very
amiable young daughter; and although I may have regretted as hasty
and premature a decision that, as her oldest and most experienced--I
may say paternal--friend, I ventured to question--you will excuse my
plain speaking; I am always accustomed to utter my sentiments freely-
--yet on better acquaintance--brought about as it was in a manner
which, however peculiar, and, I may say, unpleasant--cannot do
otherwise than command my perpetual gratitude--I am induced to revoke
a verdict, uttered, perhaps, rather with a view to the antecedents
than to the individuals, and to express a hope that the ancient
family ties may again assert themselves, and that I may again address
as such Mr. Alison of Arghouse."

That speech absolutely cleared the field of Harold and Dermot both.
One strode, the other backed, to the door, Dermot hastily said,
"Good-bye then, uncle, I shall look you up to-morrow, but I must go
and stop George St. Glear," and Harold made no further ceremony, but
departed under his cover.

Probably, Richardson had spoken a word or two in our favour to his
former master, for, when Lord Erymanth was relieved from his nephew's
trying presence, he was most gracious, and his harangues, much as
they had once fretted me, had now a familiar sound, as proving that
we were no longer "at the back of the north wind," while Eustace
listened with rapt attention, both to the long words and to anything
coming from one whose name was enrolled in his favourite volume; who
likewise discovered in him likenesses to generations past of Alisons,
and seemed ready to admit him to all the privileges for which he had
been six months pining.

At the first opportunity, Lord Erymanth began to me, "My dear Lucy,
it is a confession that to some natures may seem humiliating, but I
have so sedulously cultivated candour for my whole term of existence,
that I hope I may flatter myself that I am not a novice in the great
art of retracting a conclusion arrived at under premises which,
though probable, have proved to be illusory. I therefore freely
confess that I have allowed probability to weigh too much with me in
my estimation of these young men." I almost jumped for joy as I
cried out that I knew he would think so when he came to know them.

"Yes, I am grateful to the accident that has given me the opportunity
of judging for myself," quoth Lord Erymanth, and with a magnanimity
which I was then too inexperienced to perceive, he added, "I can
better estimate the motives which made you decide on fixing your
residence with your nephews, and I have no reluctance in declaring
them natural and praiseworthy." I showed my satisfaction in my old
friend's forgiveness, but he still went on: "Still, my dear, you must
allow me to represent that your residence here, though it is self-
innocent, exposes you to unpleasant complications. I cannot think it
well that a young lady of your age should live entirely with two
youths without female society, and be constantly associating with
such friends as they may collect round them."

I remember now how the unshed tears burnt in my eyes as I said the
female society had left me to myself, and begged to know with whom
I had associated. In return I heard something that filled me with
indignation about his nephew, Dermot Tracy, not being exactly the
companion for an unchaperoned young lady, far less his sporting
friends, or that young man who had been Dr. Kingston's partner. He
was very sorry for me, as he saw my cheeks flaming, but he felt it
right that I should be aware. I told him how I had guarded myself--
never once come across the sportsmen, and only seen Mr. Yolland
professionally when he showed me how to dress Harold's hand, besides
the time when he went over the pottery with us. Nay, Dermot himself
had only twice come into my company--once about his sister, and once
to inquire after Harold after the adventure with the lion.

There I found I had alluded to what made Lord Erymanth doubly
convinced that I must be blinded; my sight must be amiably obscured,
as to the unfitness--he might say, the impropriety of such companions
for me. He regretted all the more where his nephew was concerned,
but it was due to me to warn, to admonish, me of the true facts of
the case.

I did not see how I could want any admonition of the true facts I had
seen with my own eyes.

He was intensely astonished, and did not know how to believe that I
had actually seen the lion overpowered; whereupon I begged to know
what he had heard. He was very unwilling to tell me, but it came out
at last that Dermot and Harold--being, he feared, in an improperly
excited condition--had insisted on going to the den with the keeper,
and had irritated the animal by wanton mischief, and he was convinced
that this could not have taken place in my presence.

I was indignant beyond measure. Had not Dermot told him the true
story? He shook his head, and was much concerned at having to say
so, but he had so entirely ceased to put any confidence in Dermot's
statements that he preferred not listening to them. And I knew it
was vain to try to show him the difference between deliberate
falsehood, which was abhorrent to Dermot, and the exaggerations and
mystifications to which his uncle's solemnity always prompted him. I
appealed to the county paper; but he had been abroad at the time, and
had, moreover, been told that the facts had been hushed up.

Happily, he had some trust in my veracity, and let me prove my
perfect alibi for Harold as well as for Dermot. When I represented
how those two were the only men among some hundreds who had shown
either courage or coolness, he granted it with the words, "True,
true. Of course, of course. That's the way good blood shows itself.
Hereditary qualities are sure to manifest themselves."

Then he let me exonerate Harold from the charge of intemperance,
pointing out that not even after the injury and operation, nor after
yesterday's cold and fatigue, had he touched any liquor; but I don't
think the notion of teetotalism was gratifying, even when I called it
a private, individual vow. Nor could I make out whether his
Australian life was known, and I was afraid to speak of it, lest I
should be betraying what need never be mentioned. Of Viola's
adventure, to my surprise, her uncle did not make much, but he had
heard of that from the fountain-head, unpolluted by Stympson gossip;
and, moreover, Lady Diana had been so disproportionately angry as to
produce a reaction in him. Viola was his darling, and he had taken
her part when he had found that she knew her brother was at hand. He
allowed, too, that she might fairly be inspired with confidence by
the voice and countenance of her captor, whom he seemed to view as a
good-natured giant. But even this was an advance on "the prize-
fighter," as Lady Diana and the Stympsons called him.

It was an amusing thing to hear the old earl moralising on the
fortunate conjunction of circumstances, which had brought the
property, contrary to all expectation, to the most suitable
individual. Much did I long for Harold to return and show what he
was, but only his lordship's servant, letters, and portmanteau came
on an improvised sleigh. He had an immense political, county, and
benevolent correspondence, and was busied with it all the rest of the
day. Eustace hovered about reverentially and obligingly, and secured
the good opinion which had been already partly gained by the
statement of the police at the Quarter Sessions, whence Lord Erymanth
had been returning, that they never had had so few cases from the
Hydriot potteries as during this last quarter. Who could be
complimented upon this happy state of things save the chairman? And
who could appropriate the compliment more readily or with greater
delight? Even I felt that it would be cruel high treason to
demonstrate which was the mere chess king.

Poor Eustace! Harold had infected me enough with care for him to
like to see him in such glory, though somewhat restless as to the
appearances of this first state dinner of ours, and at Harold's
absence; but, happily, the well-known step was in the hall before our
guest came downstairs, and Eustace dashed out to superintend the
toilette that was to be as worthy of meeting with an earl as nature
and garments would permit. "Fit to be seen?" I heard Harold growl.
"Of course I do when I dine with Lucy, and this is only an old man."

Eustace and Richardson had disinterred and brushed up Harold's only
black suit (ordered as mourning for his wife, and never worn but at
his uncle's funeral); but three years' expansion of chest and
shoulder had made it pinion him so as to lessen the air of perfect
ease which, without being what is called grace, was goodly to look
upon. Eustace's studs were in his shirt, and the unnatural shine on
his tawny hair too plainly revealed the perfumeries that crowded the
young squire's dressing-table. With the purest intentions of
kindness Eustace had done his best to disguise a demigod as a lout.

We had a diner a la Russe, to satisfy Eustace's aspirations as to the
suitable. I had been seeking resources for it all the afternoon and
building up erections with Richardson and Colman; and when poor
Harold, who had been out in the snow with nothing to eat since
breakfast, beheld it, he exclaimed, "Lucy, why did you not tell me?
I could have gone over to Mycening and brought you home a leg of
mutton."

"Don't expose what a cub you are!" muttered the despairing Eustace.
"It is a deena a la Roos."

"I thought the Russians ate blubber," observed Harold, somewhat
unfeelingly, though I don't think he saw the joke; but I managed to
reassure him, sotto voce, as to there being something solid in the
background. He was really ravenous, and it was a little comedy to
see the despairing contempt with which he regarded the dainty little
mouthfuls that the cook viewed with triumph, and Eustace in equal
misery at his savage appetite; while Lord Erymanth, far too real a
gentleman to be shocked at a man's eating when he was hungry, was
quite insensible of the by-play until Harold, reduced to extremity at
sight of one delicate shaving of turkey's breast, burst out, "I say,
Richardson, I must have some food. Cut me its leg, please, at once!"

"Harry," faintly groaned Eustace, while Lord Erymanth observed, "Ah!
there is no such receipt for an appetite as shooting in the snow.
I remember when a turkey's leg would have been nothing to me, after
being out duck-shooting in Kalydon Bog. Have you been there to-day?
There would be good sport."

"No," said Harold, contented at last with the great leg, which seemed
in the same proportion to him as a chicken's to other men. "I have
been getting sheep out of the snow."

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