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Benedict de Spinoza - "A Theologico Political Treatise [Part IV]"

David N. Carvalho - "Project Gutenberg surfs with a modem donated by Supra."

Richard Harding Davis - "The Lost House"

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - "Unterhaltungen deutscher Ausgewanderten"

The Heir of Redclyffe

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Heir of Redclyffe




Mary took great pains to amuse Charles, always walking to see him in
the worst weather, when she thought other visitors likely to fall, and
chatting with him as if she was the idlest person in the world, though
the quantity she did at home and in the parish would be too amazing to
be recorded. Spirited and decided, without superfluous fears and
fineries, she had a firm, robust figure, and a rosy, good-natured face,
with a manner that, though perfectly feminine, had in it an air of
strength and determination.

Hollywell was a hamlet, two miles from the parish church of East-hill,
and Mary had thus seen very little of the Edmonstone's guest, having
only been introduced to him after church on Sunday. The pleasure on
which Charles chiefly reckoned for that evening was the talking him
over with her when the ladies came in from the dining-room. The Miss
Harpers, with his sisters, gathered round the piano, and Mrs.
Edmonstone sat at Charles's feet, while Mary knitted and talked.

'So you get on well with him?'

'He is one of those people who are never in the way, and yet you never
can forgot their presence,' said Mrs. Edmonstone.

'His manners are quite the pink of courtesy,' said Mary.

'Like his grandfather's,' said Mrs. Edmonstone; 'that old-school
deference and attention is very chivalrous, and sits prettily and
quaintly on his high spirits and animation; I hope it will not wear
off.'

'A vain hope,' said Charles. 'At present he is like that German myth,
Kaspar Hauser, who lived till twenty in a cellar. It is lucky for
mamma that, in his green state, he is courtly instead of bearish.'

'Lucky for you, too, Charlie; he spoils you finely.'

'He has the rare perfection of letting me know my own mind. I never
knew what it was to have my own way before.'

'Is that your complaint, Charlie? What next?' said Mary.

'So you think I have my way, do you, Mary? That is all envy, you see,
and very much misplaced. Could you guess what a conflict it is every
time I am helped up that mountain of a staircase, or the slope of my
sofa is altered? Last time Philip stayed here, every step cost an
argument, till at last, through sheer exhaustion, I left myself a dead
weight on his hands, to be carried up by main strength. And after all,
he is such a great, strong fellow, that I am afraid he did not mind it;
so next time I _crutched_ myself down alone, and I hope that did
provoke him.'

'Sir Guy is so kind that I am ashamed,' said Mrs. Edmonstone. 'It
seems as if we had brought him for the sole purpose of waiting on
Charles.'

'Half his heart is in his horse,' said Charles. 'Never had man such
delight in the "brute creation."'

'They have been his chief playfellows,' said Mrs. Edmonstone. 'The
chief of his time was spent in wandering in the woods or on the beach,
watching them and their ways.'

'I fairly dreamt of that Elysium of his last night,' said Charles: 'a
swamp half frozen on a winter's night, full of wild ducks. Here,
Charlotte, come and tell Mary the roll of Guy's pets.'

Charlotte began. 'There was the sea-gull, and the hedgehog, and the
fox, and the badger, and the jay, and the monkey, that he bought
because it was dying, and cured it, only it died the next winter, and a
toad, and a raven, and a squirrel, and--'

'That will do, Charlotte.'

'Oh! but Mary has not heard the names of all his dogs. And Mary, he
has cured Bustle of hunting my Puss. We held them up to each other, and
Puss hissed horribly, but Bustle did not mind it a bit; and the other
day, when Charles tried to set him at her, he would not take the least
notice.'

'Now, Charlotte,' said Charles, waving his hand, with a provoking mock
politeness, 'have the goodness to return to your friends.

Tea over, Laura proposed the game of definitions. 'You know it.
Philip,' said she, 'you taught us.'

'Yes I learnt it of your sisters, Thorndale,' said Philip.

'0 pray let us have it. It must be charming!' exclaimed Miss Harper,
on this recommendation.

'Definitions!' said Charles, contemptuously. 'Dr. Johnson must be the
hand for them.'

'They are just the definitions not to be found in Johnson,' said Mr.
Thorndale. 'Our standing specimen is adversity, which may be
differently explained according to your taste, as "a toad with a
precious jewel in its head," or "the test of friendship."'

'The spirit of words,' said Guy, looking eager and interested.

'Well, we'll try,' said Charles, 'though I can't say it sounds to me
promising. Come, Maurice, define an Irishman.'

'No, no, don't let us be personal,' said Laura; 'I had thought of the
word "happiness". We are each to write a definition on a slip of
paper, then compare them.'

The game was carried on with great spirit for more than an hour. It
was hard to say, which made most fun, Maurice, Charles, or Guy; the
last no longer a spectator, but an active contributor to the sport.
When the break-up came, Mary and Amabel were standing over the table
together, collecting the scattered papers, and observing that it had
been very good fun. 'Some so characteristic,' said Amy, 'such as
Maurice's definition of happiness, - a row at Dublin.'

'Some were very deep, though,' said Mary; 'if it is not treason, I
should like to make out whose that other was of happiness.'

'You mean this,' said Amy: '"Gleams from a brighter world, too soon
eclipsed or forfeited." I thought it was Philip's, but it is Sir Guy's
writing. How very sad! I should not like to think so. And he was so
merry all the time! This is his, too, I see; this one about riches
being the freight for which the traveller is responsible.'

'There is a great deal of character in them,' said Mary. 'I should not
have wondered at any of us, penniless people, philosophizing in the fox
and grapes style, but, for him, and at his age--'

'He has been brought up so as to make the theory of wisdom come early,'
said Philip, who was nearer than she thought.

'Is that intended for disparagement?' she asked quickly.

I think very highly of him; he has a great deal of sense and right
feeling,' was Philip's sedate answer; and he turned away to say some
last words to Mr. Thorndale.

The Rosses were the last to depart, Mary in cloak and clogs, while Mr.
Edmonstone lamented that it was in vain to offer the carriage; and Mary
laughed, and thanked, and said the walk home with Papa was the greatest
of treats in the frost and star-light.

'Don't I pity you, who always go out to dinner in a carriage!' were her
last words to Laura.

'Well, Guy,' said Charlotte, 'how do you like it?'

'Very much, indeed. It was very pleasant.'

'You are getting into the fairy ring,' said Laura, smiling.

'Ay' he said, smiling too; 'but it does not turn to tinsel. Would it
if I saw more of it?' and he looked at Mrs, Edmonstone.

'It would be no compliment to ourselves to say so,' she answered.

'I suppose tinsel or gold depends on the using,' said he, thoughtfully;
'there are some lumps of solid gold among those papers, I am sure, one,
in particular, about a trifle. May I see that again? I mean--


'Little things
On little wings
Bear little souls to heaven.'


'Oh! that was only a quotation,' said Amy, turning over the definitions
again with him, and laughing at some of the most amusing; while, in the
mean time, Philip went to help Laura, who was putting some books away
in the ante-room.

'Yes, Laura,' he said, 'he has thought, mind, and soul; he is no mere
rattle.'

'No indeed. Who could help seeing his superiority over Maurice?'

'If only he does not pervert his gifts, and if it is not all talk. I
don't like such excess of openness about his feelings; it is too like
talking for talking's sake.'

'Mamma says it in the transparency of youthfulness. You know he has
never been at school; so his thoughts come out in security of sympathy,
without fear of being laughed at. But it is very late. Good night.'


The frost turned to rain the next morning, and the torrents streamed
against the window, seeming to have a kind of attraction for Philip and
Guy, who stood watching them.

Guy wondered if the floods would be out at Redclyffe and his cousins
were interested by his description of the sudden, angry rush of the
mountain streams, eddying fiercely along, bearing with them tree and
rock, while the valleys became lakes, and the little mounds islets; and
the trees looked strangely out of proportion when only their branches
were visible. 'Oh! a great flood is famous fun,' said he.

'Surely,' said Philip, 'I have heard a legend of your being nearly
drowned in some flood.

'Yes,' said Guy, 'I had a tolerable ducking.'

'Oh, tell us about it!' said Amy.

'Ay! I have a curiosity to hear a personal experience of drowning,'
said Charles. 'Come, begin at the beginning.'

'I was standing watching the tremendous force of the stream, when I saw
an unhappy old ram floating along, bleating so piteously, and making
such absurd, helpless struggles, that I could not help pulling off my
coat and jumping in after him. It was very foolish, for the stream was
too strong--I was two years younger then. Moreover, the beast was very
heavy, and not at all grateful for any kind intentions, and I found
myself sailing off to the sea, with the prospect of a good many rocks
before long; but just then an old tree stretched out its friendly arms
through the water; it stopped the sheep, and I caught hold of the
branches, and managed to scramble up, while my friend got entangled in
them with his wool'--


'Omne quum Proteus pecus egit altos
Visere montes,'

quoted Philip.


'Ovium et summa, genus haesit ulmo,'

added Guy.

'_Ovium_,' exclaimed Philip, with a face of horror. 'Don't you know
that _0_ in _Ovis_ is short? Do anything but take liberties with
Horace!'

'Get out of the tree first, Guy,' said Charles, 'for at present your
history seems likely to end with a long ohone!'

'Well, Triton--not Proteus--came to the rescue at last,' said Guy,
laughing; 'I could not stir, and the tree bent so frightfully with the
current that I expected every minute we should all go together; so I
had nothing for it but to halloo as loud as I could. No one heard but
Triton, the old Newfoundland dog, who presently came swimming up, so
eager to help, poor fellow, that I thought he would have throttled me,
or hurt himself in the branches. I took off my handkerchief and threw
it to him, telling him to take it to Arnaud, who I knew would
understand it as a signal of distress.'

'Did he? How long had you to wait?'

'I don't know--it seemed long enough before a most welcome boat
appeared, with some men in it, and Triton in an agony. They would
never have found me but for him, for my voice was gone; indeed the next
thing I remember was lying on the grass in the park, and Markham
saying, 'Well, sir, if you do wish to throw away your life, let it be
for something better worth saving than Farmer Holt's vicious old ram!'

'In the language of the great Mr. Toots,' said Charles 'I am afraid
you got very wet.'

'Were you the worse for it?' said Amy.

'Not in the least. I was so glad to hear it was Holt's! for you must
know that I had behaved very ill to Farmer Holt. I had been very angry
at his beating our old hound, for, as he thought, worrying his sheep;
not that Dart ever did, though.

'And was the ram saved?'

'Yes, and next time I saw it, it nearly knocked me down.'

'Would you do it again?' said Philip.

'I don't know.'

'I hope you had a medal from the Humane Society,' said Charles.

'That would have been more proper for Triton.'

'Yours should have been an ovation,' said Charles, cutting the o
absurdly short, and looking at Philip.

Laura saw that the spirit of teasing was strong in Charles this morning
and suspected that he wanted to stir up what he called the deadly feud,
and she hastened to change the conversation by saying, 'You quite
impressed Guy with your translation of Fra Cristoforo.'

'Indeed I must thank you for recommending the book,' said Guy; 'how
beautiful it is!'

'I am glad you entered into it,' said Philip; 'it has every quality
that a fiction ought to have.'

'I never read anything equal to the repentance of the nameless man.'

'Is he your favourite character?' said Philip, looking at him
attentively.

'Oh no--of course not--though he is so grand that one thinks most about
him, but no one can be cared about as much as Lucia.'

'Lucia! She never struck me as more than a well-painted peasant girl,'
said Philip.

'Oh!' cried Guy, indignantly; then, controlling himself, he continued:
'She pretends to no more than she is, but she shows the beauty of
goodness in itself in a--a--wonderful way. And think of the power of
those words of hers over that gloomy, desperate man.'

'Your sympathy with the Innominato again,' said Philip. Every subject
seemed to excite Guy to a dangerous extent, as Laura thought, and she
turned to Philip to ask if he would not read to them again.

'I brought this book on purpose,' said Philip. 'I wished to read you a
description of that print from Raffaelle--you know it--the Madonna di
San Sisto?'

'The one you brought to show us?' said Amy, 'with the two little
angels?'

'Yes, here is the description,' and he began to read--

'Dwell on the form of the Child, more than human in grandeur, seated on
the arms of the Blessed Virgin as on an august throne. Note the tokens
of divine grace, His ardent eyes, what a spirit, what a countenance is
His; yet His very resemblance to His mother denotes sufficiently that
He is of us and takes care for us. Beneath are two figures adoring,
each in their own manner. On one side is a pontiff, on the other a
virgin each a most sweet and solemn example, the one of aged, the other
of maidenly piety and reverence. Between, are two winged boys,
evidently presenting a wonderful pattern of childlike piety. Their
eyes, indeed, are not turned towards the Virgin, but both in face and
gesture, they show how careless of themselves they are in the presence
of God.'

All were struck by the description. Guy did not speak at first, but
the solemn expression of his face showed how he felt its power and
reverence. Philip asked if they would like to hear more, and Charles
assented: Amy worked, Laura went on with her perspective, and Guy sat
by her side, making concentric circles with her compasses, or when she
wanted them he tormented her parallel ruler, or cut the pencils, never
letting his fingers rest except at some high or deep passage, or when
some interesting discussion arose. All were surprised when luncheon
time arrived; Charles held out his hand for the book; it was given with
a slight smile, and he exclaimed' Latin! I thought you were
translating. Is it your own property?'

'Yes.'

'Is it very tough? I would read it, if any one would read it with me.'

'Do you mean me?' said Guy; 'I should like it very much, but you have
seen how little Latin I know.'

'That is the very thing,' said Charles; 'that Ovis of yours was music;
I would have made you a Knight of the Golden Fleece on the spot.
Tutors I could get by shoals, but a fellow-dunce is inestimable.'

'It is a bargain, then,' said Guy; 'if Philip has done with the book
and will lend it to us.'

The luncheon bell rang, and they all adjourned to the dining-room. Mr.
Edmonstone came in when luncheon was nearly over, rejoicing that his
letters were done, but then he looked disconsolately from the window,
and pitied the weather. 'Nothing for it but billiards. People might
say it was nonsense to have a billiard-table in such a house, but for
his part he found there was no getting through a wet day without them.
Philip must beat him as usual, and Guy might have one of the young
ladies to make a fourth.'

'Thank you,' said Guy, 'but I don't play.'

'Not play--eh?' Well, we will teach you in the spinning of a ball, and
I'll have my little Amy to help me against you and Philip.'

'No, thank you,' repeated Guy, colouring, 'I am under a promise.'

'Ha! Eh? What? Your grandfather? He could see no harm in such play
as this. For nothing, you understand. You did not suppose I meant
anything else?'

'0 no, of course not,' eagerly replied Guy; 'but it is impossible for
me to play, thank you. I have promised never even to look on at a game
at billiards.'

'Ah, poor man, he had too much reason.' uttered Mr. Edmonstone to
himself, but catching a warning look from his wife, he became suddenly
silent. Guy, meanwhile, sat looking lost in sad thoughts, till,
rousing himself, he exclaimed, 'Don't let me prevent you.'

Mr. Edmonstone needed but little persuasion, and carried Philip off to
the billiard-table in the front hall.

'0, I am so glad!' cried Charlotte, who had, within the last week,
learnt Guy's value as a playfellow. 'Now you will never go to those
stupid billiards, but I shall have you always, every rainy day. Come
and have a real good game at ball on the stairs.'

She already had hold of his hand, and would have dragged him off at
once, had he not waited to help Charles back to his sofa; and in the
mean time she tried in vain to persuade her more constant playmate,
Amabel, to join the game. Poor little Amy regretted the being obliged
to refuse, as she listened to the merry sounds and bouncing balls,
sighing more than once at having turned into a grown-up young lady;
while Philip observed to Laura, who was officiating as billiard-marker,
that Guy was still a mere boy.

The fates favoured Amy at last for about half after three, the
billiards were interrupted, and Philip, pronouncing the rain to be
almost over, invited Guy to take a walk, and they set out in a very
gray wet mist, while Charlotte and Amy commenced a vigorous game at
battledore and shuttle-cock.

The gray mist had faded into twilight, and twilight into something like
night, when Charles was crossing the hall, with the aid of Amy's arm,
Charlotte carrying the crutch behind him, and Mrs, Edmonstone helping
Laura with her perspective apparatus, all on their way to dress for
dinner; the door opened and in came the two Morvilles. Guy, without,
even stopping to take off his great coat, ran at once up-stairs, and
the next moment the door of his room was shut with a bang that shook
the house, and made them all start and look at Philip for explanation.

'Redclyffe temper,' said he, coolly, with a half-smile curling his
short upper lip.

'What have you been doing to him?' said Charles.'

'Nothing. At least nothing worthy of such ire. I only entered on the
subject of his Oxford life, and advised him to prepare for it, for his
education has as yet been a mere farce. He used to go two or three
days in the week to one Potts, a self-educated genius--a sort of
superior writing-master at the Moorworth commercial school. Of course,
though it is no fault of his, poor fellow, he is hardly up to the fifth
form, and he must make the most of his time, if he is not to be
plucked. I set all this before him as gently as I could, for I knew
with whom I had to deal, yet you see how it is.'

'What did he say?' asked Charles.

'He said nothing; so far I give him credit; but he strode on furiously
for the last half mile, and this explosion is the finale. I am very
sorry for him, poor boy; I beg no further notice may be taken of it.
Don't you want an arm, Charlie?'

'No thank you,' answered Charles, with a little surliness.

'You had better. It really is too much for Amy,' said Philip, making a
move as if to take possession of him, as he arrived at the foot of the
stairs.

'Like the camellia, I suppose,' he replied; and taking his other crutch
from Charlotte, he began determinedly to ascend without assistance,
resolved to keep Philip a prisoner below him as long as he could, and
enjoying the notion of chafing him by the delay. Certainly teasing
Philip was a dear delight to Charles, though it was all on trust, as,
if he succeeded, his cousin never betrayed his annoyance by look or
sign.

About a quarter of an hour after, there was a knock at the dressing-
room door. 'Come in,' said Mrs. Edmonstone, looking up from her
letter-writing, and Guy made his appearance, looking very downcast.

'I am come,' he said, 'to ask pardon for the disturbance I made just
now. I was so foolish as to be irritated at Philip's manner, when he
was giving me some good advice, and I am very sorry.'

'What has happened to your lip?' she exclaimed.

He put his handkerchief to it. 'Is it bleeding still? It is a trick
of mine to bite my lip when I am vexed. It seems to help to keep down
words. There! I have given myself a mark of this hateful outbreak.'

He looked very unhappy, more so, Mrs. Edmonstone thought, than the
actual offence required. 'You have only failed in part,' she said.
'It was a victory to keep down words.'

'The feeling is the _thing_,' said Guy; 'besides, I showed it plainly
enough, without speaking.'

'It is not easy to take advice from one so little your elder,' began
Mrs. Edmonstone, but he interrupted her. 'It was not the advice. That
was very good; I--' but he spoke with an effort,--'I am obliged to him.
It was--no, I won't say what,' he added, his eyes kindling, then
changing in a moment to a sorrowful, resolute tone, 'Yes, but I _will_,
and then I shall make myself thoroughly ashamed. It was his veiled
assumption of superiority, his contempt for all I have been taught.
Just as if he had not every right to despise me, with his talent and
scholarship, after such egregious mistakes as I had made in the
morning. I gave him little reason to think highly of my attainments;
but let him slight me as much as he pleases, he must not slight those
who taught me. It was not Mr. Potts' fault.'

Even the name could not spoil the spirited sound of the speech, and
Mrs. Edmonstone was full of sympathy. 'You must remember,' she said,
'that in the eyes of a man brought up at public school, nothing
compensates for the want of the regular classical education. I have no
doubt it was very provoking.'

'I don't want to be excused, thank you,' said Guy. 'Oh I am grieved;
for I thought the worst of my temper had been subdued. After all that
has passed--all I felt--I thought it impossible. Is there no hope for-
-' He covered his face with his hands, then recovering and turning to
Mrs. Edmonstone, he said, 'It is encroaching too much on your kindness
to come here and trouble you with my confessions.'

'No, no, indeed,' said she, earnestly. 'Remember how we agreed that
you should come to me like one of my own children. And, indeed, I do
not see why you need grieve in this despairing way, for you almost
overcame the fit of anger; and perhaps you were off your guard because
the trial came in an unexpected way?'

'It did, it did,' he said, eagerly; 'I don't, mind being told point
blank that I am a dunce, but that Mr. Potts--nay, by implication--my
grandfather should be set at nought in that cool-- But here I am
again!' said he, checking himself in the midst of his vehemence; 'he
did not mean that, of course. I have no one to blame but myself.'

'I am sure,' said Mrs, Edmonstone, 'that if you always treat your
failings in this way, you must subdue them at last.'

'It is all failing, and resolving, and failing again!' said Guy.

'Yes, but the failures become slighter and less frequent, and the end
is victory.'

'The end victory!' repeated Guy, in a musing tone, as he stood leaning
against the mantelshelf.

'Yes, to all who persevere and seek for help,' said Mrs Edmonstone; and
he raised his eyes and fixed them on her with an earnest look that
surprised her, for it was almost as if the hope came home to him as
something new. At that moment, however, she was called away, and
directly after a voice in the next room exclaimed, 'Are you there, Guy?
I want an arm!' while he for the first time perceived that Charles's
door was ajar.

Charles thought all this a great fuss about nothing, indeed he was glad
to find there was anyone who had no patience with Philip; and in his
usual mischievous manner, totally reckless of the fearful evil of
interfering with the influence for good which it was to be hoped that
Philip might exert over Guy, he spoke thus: 'I begin to think the world
must be more docile than I have been disposed to give it credit for.
How a certain cousin of ours has escaped numerous delicate hints to
mind his own business is to me one of the wonders of the world.'

'No one better deserves that his advice should be followed,' said Guy,
with some constraint.

'An additional reason against it,' said Charles. 'Plague on that bell!
I meant to have broken through your formalities and had a candid
opinion of Don Philip before it rang.'

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