And why does Uncle Roland put that absurd French de before his name; and why were my father and he not good friends; and is he married; and has he any children?
Scene of this conference: my own little room, new papered on purpose for my return for good,trellis-work paper, flowers and birds, all so fresh and so new and so clean and so gay, with my books ranged in neat shelves, and a writing-table by the window; and, without the window, shines the still summer moon. The window is a little open: you scent the flowers and the new-mown hay. Past eleven; and the boy and his dear mother are all alone.
My dear, my dear, you ask so many questions at once!
Dont answer them, then. Begin at the beginning, as Nurse Primmins does with her fairy tales, Once on a time.
Once on a time, then, said my mother, kissing me between the eyes,once on a time, my love, there was a certain clergyman in Cumberland who had two sons; he had but a small living, and the boys were to make their own way in the world. But close to the parsonage, on the brow of a hill, rose an old ruin with one tower left, and this, with half the country round it, had once belonged to the clergymans family; but all had been sold,all gone piece by piece, you see, my dear, except the presentation to the living (what they call the advowson was sold too), which had been secured to the last of the family. The elder of these sons was your Uncle Roland; the younger was your father. Now I believe the first quarrel arose from the absurdist thing possible, as your father says; but Roland was exceedingly touchy on all things connected with his ancestors. He was always poring over the old pedigree, or wandering amongst the ruins, or reading books of knight-errantry. Well, where this pedigree began, I know not, but it seems that King Henry II. gave some lands in Cumberland to one Sir Adam de Caxton; and from that time, you see, the pedigree went regularly from father to son till Henry V. Then, apparently from the disorders produced, as your father says, by the Wars of the Roses, there was a sad blank left,only one or two names, without dates or marriages, till the time of Henry VII, except that in the reign of Edward IV. there was one insertion of a William Caxton (named in a deed). Now in the village church there was a beautiful brass monument to one Sir William de Caxton, who had been killed at the battle of Bosworth, fighting for that wicked king Richard III. And about the same time there lived, as you know, the great printer, William Caxton. Well, your father, happening to be in town on a visit to his aunt, took great trouble in hunting up all the old papers he could find at the Heralds College; and, sure enough, he was overjoyed to satisfy himself that he was descended, not from that poor Sir William who had been killed in so bad a cause, but from the great printer, who was from a younger branch of the same family, and to whose descendants the estate came in the reign of Henry VIII. It was upon this that your Uncle Roland quarrelled with him,and, indeed, I tremble to think that they may touch on that matter again.
Then, my dear mother, I must say my uncle was wrong there so far as common-sense is concerned; but still, somehow or other, I can understand it. Surely, this was not the only cause of estrangement?
My mother looked down, and moved one hand gently over the other, which was her way when embarrassed. What was it, my own mother? said I, coaxingly.
I believethat is, II think that they were both attached to the same young lady.
How! you dont mean to say that my father was ever in love with any one but you?
Yes, Sisty,yes, and deeply! And, added my mother, after a slight pause, and with a very low sigh, he never was in love with me; and what is more, he had the frankness to tell me so!
And yet you
Married himyes! said my mother, raising the softest and purest eyes that ever lover could have wished to read his fate in; yes, for the old love was hopeless. I knew that I could make him happy. I knew that he would love me at last, and he does so! My son, your father loves me!
As she spoke, there came a blush, as innocent as virgin ever knew, to my mothers smooth cheek; and she looked so fair, so good, and still so young all the while that you would have said that either Dusius, the Teuton fiend, or Nock, the Scandinavian sea-imp, from whom the learned assure us we derive our modern Daimones, The Deuce, and Old Nick, had possessed my father, if he had not learned to love such a creature.
I pressed her hand to my lips; but my heart was too full tot speak for a moment or so, and then I partially changed the subject.
Well, and this rivalry estranged them more? And who was the lady?
Your father never told me, and I never asked, said my mother, simply. But she was very different from me, I know. Very accomplished, very beautiful, very highborn.
For all that, my father was a lucky man to escape her. Pass on. What did the Captain do?
Why, about that time your grandfather died; and shortly after an aunt, on the mothers side, who was rich and saving, died, and unexpectedly left each sixteen thousand pounds. Your uncle, with his share, bought back, at an enormous price, the old castle and some land round it, which they say does not bring him in three hundred a year. With the little that remained, he purchased a commission in the army; and the brothers met no more till last week, when Roland suddenly arrived.
He did not marry this accomplished young lady?
No! but he married another, and is a widower.
Why, he was as inconstant as my father, and I am sure without so good an excuse. How was that?
I dont know. He says nothing about it.
Has he any children?
Two, a sonBy the by, you must never speak about him. Your uncle briefly said, when I asked him what was his family, A girl, maam. I had a son, but
He is dead, cried your father, in his kind, pitying voice.
Dead to me, brother; and you will never mention his name! You should have seen how stern your uncle looked. I was terrified.
But the girl,why did not he bring her here?
She is still in France, but he talks of going over for her; and we have half promised to visit them both in Cumberland. But, bless me! is that twelve? and the posset quite cold!
One word more, dearest mother,one word. My fathers book,is he still going on with it?
Oh yes, indeed! cried my mother, clasping her hands; and he must read it to you, as he does to me,you will understand it so well. I have always been so anxious that the world should know him, and be proud of him as we are,soso anxious! For perhaps, Sisty, if he had married that great lady, he would have roused himself, been more ambitious,and I could only make him happy, I could not make him great!
So he has listened to you at last?
To me? said my mother, shaking her head and smiling gently. No, rather to your Uncle Jack, who, I am happy to say, has at length got a proper hold over him.
A proper hold, my dear mother! Pray beware of Uncle Jack, or we shall all be swept into a coal-mine, or explode with a grand national company for making gunpowder out of tea-leaves!
Wicked child! said my mother, laughing; and then, as she took up her candle and lingered a moment while I wound my watch, she said, musingly: Yet Jack is very, very clever; and if for your sake we could make a fortune, Sisty!