"she's a fine woman the mistress, a rare fine woman; but she's going the wrong way. it's the cart before the horse, and i tell you it's not conformable; and the master, god help him, poor fellow, will never be brought to go at the tail of the cart—never." so ruminated gervase norgate's old servant, miles, pushing back the tufts of ragged red hair on his long head ruefully, as he sat "promiscuous" in what he was pleased to call his pantry at ashpound, while he contemplated with the eye of the body his chamois skin for what he proudly denominated his silver, and with the eye of the mind the new régime and its ruling spirit.
"she's a fine woman," remarked also of her new niece, miss tabitha norgate, of redwells. "she's a fine woman, a great deal too good for him; but she oughtn't to have gone and married jarvie, or to have married anybody, there's the long and the short of it. she ought to have remained single, like me. she was made to stand alone, while he wanted a woman and as many children as she could muster to hang round his neck—the liker a millstone the better,—he won't drown: he could not take the straight road without a weight to ballast him and keep him steady. if he had consulted me, i would have advised him to marry that dawdling, whimpering susie lefroy, the widowed daughter of the vicar, with her unprovided-for orphans. jarvie might have stepped into a young family at once, and he would have been a kind stepfather—he might have righted himself then. to go and marry [page 312]a clever, active, handsome, well-born woman like die baring. oh! dear, dear, what folly!"
in spite of her critics, mrs. gervase norgate spared no pains to acquit herself of her obligation, and to discharge her debt at ashpound. ashpound was a much more exhilarating residence than newton-le-moor. at newton-le-moor the desolation of prodigality and immorality was objective and deductive. at ashpound the desolation was subjective and inductive, a plague-spot within; and although the flush of decay was visible, gervase would struggle against it to the last. he would make an effort to preserve the pleasant, rambling, mellow brick house, most of it one-storied and draped with jessamine and clematis as old as the building; the belt of ash-trees round the ferny dells of the little park; and the whitewashed offices, in excellent repair; the well cared for cattle and poultry-yard; the amply-stocked, flourishing gardens; the pretty gardener's house and lodge—the prettiest things about the place, as his father had left them to him. to the last gervase would aim at keeping up the place, to his mother's drawing-room, his father's study, miles's pantry and cellar, even the modern housekeeper's room, and the maids' gallery, in comfort and pleasantness. only his own rooms—dining-room, smoking-room, bedroom—had been suffered to show traces of many a brawl and fray. it was as if he had deemed anything good enough for a scapegrace and beast like him, and thought to pay the whole price in his own person. it would not be with his will if any other person, high or low, contributed to his heavy forfeits. and gervase norgate's servants, new as well as [page 313]old, had a pitiful liking for him, a remorseful regard for his interests, even when these clashed with their own. so when gervase had removed the traces, repaired the damages, and taken the decisive step of forbidding the inroads of his evil associates, mrs. gervase norgate found a peaceful, prosperous-seeming, as well as fair, country home awaiting her.
neither did mrs. gervase norgate droop or mope; she was alive to every advantage, alert to improve every opportunity. frankly she praised the house at ashpound, which she had formerly known at the distance of common acquaintanceship, but now knew in the nearness of home, from garret to cellar. "what a well-seasoned, kindly dwelling you have here, gervase. how i like the windows opening down to the floors, the creeping plants, the hall window-seats, and the attics with their pigeon-hole bureaux." she made herself familiar with its details, and she flattered its old occupants with the extent of her intimacy and appreciation. she did not let the grass grow beneath her feet in learning and acquiring its owner's habits. early rising had been one of the good old country habits which had stuck to gervase. and not a dairymaid at ashpound was up and abroad at so primitive an hour as its mistress, ready to walk with the squire to his horses' stalls and paddocks, his cattle sheds, his game preserves, his workpeople in the fields; anywhere but to the sign of the 'spreading ash-tree,' in the village of ash-cum-thorpe, for his morning draught.
"well-a-day," cried dolly; "i would not be the mistress, to rise and go to her work afore the stroke of six, [page 314]and she a fine lady born and bred, for all the hats and feathers, table heads, and carriage-seats in this here world. if i ever have a word to say to luke jobling, i know it will be with an eye to a good long lie in the morning when he has gone to his mowing or his reaping. how madam does it without ever drooping an eyelid, none of us can tell; but they do say the gentlefolks are as strong as steel when they like to put out their strength; happen it is the high living as gives it to them. i know madam puts us to our mettle here. and lawk! the squire, he's as restless and lost like as a new weaned calf. eh! i had liefer have the holding-in of a senseless calf, though i had not luke to help me with the bars of the gates, than the holding in of a full-grown, whole-witted man. but the poor mistress—them as don't know the rights of a thing calls her saucy—young lady though she be, she do work hard for her place and living, she do, since she has got master gervase and ashpound."
anticipating her husband's commands, diana was ever ready to bear him company, to share his engagements and amusements, walking, riding, shooting, fishing, playing billiards, cribbage, bowls, racket, backgammon, draughts, for hours on a stretch; to go abroad attending the market and doing banking business at market hesketh, dining out with the vicar or with any country host save mr. baring—mrs. gervase norgate setting her face against the paternal hospitalities—dancing at the county balls as one of the leaders. she did not seem to know what weariness meant. she would trudge whole half-days with him and the keepers, after luncheon, beating the plantations and [page 315]pacing the turnip-fields to start and bring down birds, and she would be sauntering with him on the terrace and in the park after dinner all the same. she would be in the saddle ten hours during a long day's hunt, as the autumn advanced and the meets assembled, and within an hour of alighting at the door of ashpound, she would have exchanged muddy bottle-green or waterloo blue cloth for glistening white satin, and be stepping into the carriage with gervase to be present at one of their wedding parties.
there was something positively great in the intentness with which the woman pursued her end of the man's salvation; the vigilance with which she ever kept sight of the wounded quarry she was to rescue and to restore. the neighbourhood watched the struggle with interest, admiration, hostile criticism, not very delicate diversion. only to john fitzwilliam baring the struggle was a matter of indifference—rather of repugnance. he would have liked die to be more feminine and more helpless.
would die slacken in her energy and devotion? would gervase be able to bear his cure much longer?
beyond the honeymoon, and with the feeling decidedly growing, gervase norgate was gratified by his wife's sacrifice of herself in every respect, and long before he grew accustomed to it and felt easy under it, he was touched by it. he liked her company too, for he was fond of society, and had been lonely since his father and mother died. she was an observant, intelligent woman, high-minded and pure-hearted, and vastly superior to his late satellites. she was eager to suit herself to him, and made herself as [page 316]free with him as she could be, as far as he knew, with any one. at this season gervase norgate was attracted to something warmer, sweeter, more intimate in their intercourse. he enjoyed her quick remarks and shrewd conclusions. he was pleased with, and proud of the new blossoming of her beauty under the combined influences of an open-air life, constant occupation, and a powerful object. he was willing to wait till more tender feelings should awaken between them. it looked as if gervase norgate had turned over a new leaf: his cheek lost its dull, engrained red, or its pallor; his lips grew firmer; his eyes clearer and cooler; he raised his head, and threw off something of the slouch of his shoulders and the swing and uncertainty of his walk.
"how well you look in that pretty dress, diana!" he would say; "i declare you are as brave a figure as any in my lord's picture-gallery. let me fetch you a cluster of monthly roses, though i am not fit to hold the candle to you." or, "come, die, let us have a stroll and a smoke in the garden." or, "sit still for another game, will you? my hand is just in and my luck beginning. i know you are never tired. mrs. gervase, you are a trump—the ace of trumps."
ignorant spectators might have set them down for a good, happy, well-met young couple, with regard to whom it would be simply and equally appropriate to wish "god bless them."
