CHAPTER XXXIII

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER AT STEYNHAM

The judge pronouncing sentence of condemnation on the criminal is

proverbially a sorrowfully-minded man; and still more would he be so had

he to undertake the part of executioner as well. This is equivalent to

saying that the simple pleasures are no longer with us; it must be a

personal enemy now to give us any satisfaction in chastising and slaying.

Perhaps by-and-by that will be savourless: we degenerate. There is,

nevertheless, ever (and let nature be praised for it) a strong

sustainment in the dutiful exertion of our physical energies, and Mr.

Everard Romfrey experienced it after he had fulfilled his double office

on the person of Dr. Shrapnel by carrying out his own decree. His

conscience approved him cheerlessly, as it is the habit of that secret

monitor to do when we have no particular advantage coming of the act we

have performed; but the righteous labour of his arm gave him high

breathing and an appetite.

He foresaw that he and Nevil would soon be having a wrestle over the

matter, hand and thigh; but a gentleman in the right engaged with a

fellow in the wrong has nothing to apprehend; is, in fact, in the

position of a game-preserver with a poacher. The nearest approach to

gratification in that day's work which Mr. Romfrey knew was offered by

the picture of Nevil's lamentable attitude above his dirty idol. He

conceived it in the mock-mediaeval style of our caricaturists:--Shrapnel

stretched at his length, half a league, in slashed yellows and blacks,

with his bauble beside him, and prodigious pointed toes; Nevil in

parti-coloured tights, on one leg, raising his fists in imprecation to a

nose in the firmament.

Gentlemen of an unpractised imaginative capacity cannot vision for

themselves exactly what they would, being unable to exercise authority

over the proportions and the hues of the objects they conceive, which are

very much at the mercy of their sportive caprices; and the state of mind

of Mr. Romfrey is not to be judged by his ridiculous view of the pair. In

the abstract he could be sorry for Shrapnel. As he knew himself

magnanimous, he promised himself to be forbearing with Nevil.

Moreover, the month of September was drawing nigh; he had plenty to think

of. The entire land (signifying all but all of those who occupy the

situation of thinkers in it) may be said to have been exhaling the same

thought in connection with September. Our England holds possession of a

considerable portion of the globe, and it keeps the world in awe to see

her bestowing so considerable a portion of her intelligence upon her

recreations. To prosecute them with her whole heart is an ingenious

exhibition of her power. Mr. Romfrey was of those who said to his

countrymen, 'Go yachting; go cricketing; go boat-racing; go shooting; go

horseracing, nine months of the year, while the other Europeans go

marching and drilling.' Those occupations he considered good for us; and

our much talking, writing, and thinking about them characteristic, and

therefore good. And he was not one of those who do penance for that

sweating indolence in the fits of desperate panic. Beauchamp's argument

that the rich idler begets the idling vagabond, the rich wagerer the

brutal swindler, the general thirst for a mad round of recreation a

generally-increasing disposition to avoid serious work, and the unbraced

moral tone of the country an indifference to national responsibility (an

argument doubtless extracted from Shrapnel, talk tall as the very

demagogue when he stood upright), Mr. Romfrey laughed at scornfully,

affirming that our manufactures could take care of themselves. As for

invasion, we are circled by the sea. Providence has done that for us, and

may be relied on to do more in an emergency.--The children of wealth and

the children of the sun alike believe that Providence is for them, and it

would seem that the former can do without it less than the latter, though

the former are less inclined to give it personification.

This year, however, the array of armaments on the Continent made Mr.

Romfrey anxious about our navy. Almost his first topic in welcoming

Colonel Halkett and Cecilia to Steynham was the rottenness of navy

administration; for if Providence is to do anything for us it must have a

sea-worthy fleet for the operation. How loudly would his contemptuous

laughter have repudiated the charge that he trusted to supernatural

agency for assistance in case of need! But so it was: and he owned to

believing in English luck. Partly of course he meant that steady fire of

combat which his countrymen have got heated to of old till fortune

blessed them.

'Nevil is not here?' the colonel asked.

'No, I suspect he's gruelling and plastering a doctor of his

acquaintance,' Mr. Romfrey said, with his nasal laugh composed of scorn

and resignation.

'Yes, yes, I've heard,' said Colonel Halkett hastily.

He would have liked to be informed of Dr. Shrapnel's particular offence:

he mentioned the execrable letter.

Mr. Romfrey complacently interjected: 'Drug-vomit!' and after an

interval: 'Gallows!'

'That man has done Nevil Beauchamp a world of mischief, Romfrey.'

'We'll hope for a cure, colonel.'

'Did the man come across you?'

'He did.'

Mr. Romfrey was mute on the subject. Colonel Halkett abstained from

pushing his inquiries.

Cecilia could only tell her father when they were alone in the

drawing-room a few minutes before dinner that Mrs. Culling was entirely

ignorant of any cause to which Nevil's absence might be attributed.

'Mr. Romfrey had good cause,' the colonel said, emphatically.

He repeated it next day, without being a bit wiser of the cause.

Cecilia's happiness or hope was too sensitive to allow of a beloved

father's deceiving her in his opposition to it.

She saw clearly now that he had fastened on this miserable incident,

expecting an imbroglio that would divide Nevil and his uncle, and be an

excuse for dividing her and Nevil. O for the passionate will to make head

against what appeared as a fate in this matter! She had it not.

Mr. and Mrs. Wardour-Devereux, Sir John and Lady Baskelett, and the

Countess of Welshpool, another sister of Mr. Romfrey's, arrived at

Steynham for a day and a night. Lady Baskelett and Lady Welshpool came to

see their brother, not to countenance his household; and Mr.

Wardour-Devereux could not stay longer than a certain number of hours

under a roof where tobacco was in evil odour. From her friend Louise, his

wife, Cecilia learnt that Mr. Lydiard had been summoned to Dr. Shrapnel's

bedside, as Mrs. Devereux knew by a letter she had received from Mr.

Lydiard, who was no political devotee of that man, she assured Cecilia,

but had an extraordinary admiration for the Miss Denham living with him.

This was kindly intended to imply that Beauchamp was released from his

attendance on Dr. Shrapnel, and also that it was not he whom the Miss

Denham attracted.

'She is in Switzerland,' said Cecilia.

'She is better there,' said Mrs. Devereux.

Mr. Stukely Culbrett succeeded to these visitors. He heard of the case of

Dr. Shrapnel from Colonel Halkett, and of Beauchamp's missing of his

chance with the heiress from Mr. Romfrey.

Rosamund Culling was in great perplexity about Beauchamp's prolonged

absence; for he had engaged to come, he had written to her to say he

would be sure to come; and she feared he was ill. She would have

persuaded Mr. Culbrett to go down to Bevisham to see him: she declared

that she could even persuade herself to call on Dr. Shrapnel a second

time, in spite of her horror of the man. Her anger at the thought of his

keeping Nevil away from good fortune and happiness caused her to speak in

resentment and loathing of the man.

'He behaved badly when you saw him, did he?' said Stukely.

'Badly, is no word. He is detestable,' Rosamund replied.

'You think he ought to be whipped?'

She feigned an extremity of vindictiveness, and twisted her brows in

comic apology for the unfeminine sentiment, as she said: 'I really do.'

The feminine gentleness of her character was known to Stukely, so she

could afford to exaggerate the expression of her anger, and she did not

modify it, forgetful that a woman is the representative of the sex with

cynical men, and escapes from contempt at the cost of her sisterhood.

Looking out of an upper window in the afternoon she beheld Nevil

Beauchamp in a group with his uncle Everard, the colonel and Cecilia, and

Mr. Culbrett. Nevil was on his feet; the others were seated under the

great tulip-tree on the lawn.

A little observation of them warned her that something was wrong. There

was a vacant chair; Nevil took it in his hand at times, stamped it to the

ground, walked away and sharply back fronting his uncle, speaking

vehemently, she perceived, and vainly, as she judged by the cast of his

uncle's figure. Mr. Romfrey's head was bent, and wagged slightly, as he

screwed his brows up and shot his eyes, queerly at the agitated young

man. Colonel Halkett's arms crossed his chest. Cecilia's eyelids drooped

their, lashes. Mr. Culbrett was balancing on the hind-legs of his chair.

No one appeared to be speaking but Nevil.

It became evident that Nevil was putting a series of questions to his

uncle. Mechanical nods were given him in reply.

Presently Mr. Romfrey rose, thundering out a word or two, without a

gesture.

Colonel Halkett rose.

Nevil flung his hand out straight to the house.

Mr. Romfrey seemed to consent; the colonel shook his head: Nevil

insisted.

A footman carrying a tea-tray to Miss Halkett received some commission

and swiftly disappeared, making Rosamund wonder whether sugar, milk or

cream had been omitted.

She met him on the first landing, and heard that Mr. Romfrey requested

her to step out on the lawn.

Expecting to hear of a piece of misconduct on the part of the household

servants, she hurried forth, and found that she had to traverse the whole

space of the lawn up to the tuliptree. Colonel Halkett and Mr. Romfrey

had resumed their seats. The colonel stood up and bowed to her.

Mr. Romfrey said: 'One question to you, ma'am, and you shall not be

detained. Did not that man Shrapnel grossly insult you on the day you

called on him to see Captain Beauchamp about a couple of months before

the Election?'

'Look at me when you speak, ma'am,' said Beauchamp.

Rosamund looked at him.

The whiteness of his face paralyzed her tongue. A dreadful levelling of

his eyes penetrated and chilled her. Instead of thinking of her answer

she thought of what could possibly have happened.

'Did he insult you at all, ma'am?' said Beauchamp.

Mr. Romfrey reminded him that he was not a cross-examining criminal

barrister.

They waited for her to speak.

She hesitated, coloured, betrayed confusion; her senses telling her of a

catastrophe, her conscience accusing her as the origin of it.

'Did Dr. Shrapnel, to your belief, intentionally hurt your feelings or

your dignity?' said Beauchamp, and made the answer easier:

'Not intentionally, surely: not . . . I certainly do not accuse him.'

'Can you tell me you feel that he wounded you in the smallest degree? And

if so, how? I ask you this, because he is anxious, if he lives, to

apologize to you for any offence that he may have been guilty of: he was

ignorant of it. I have his word for that, and his commands to me to bear

it to you. I may tell you I have never known him injure the most feeble

thing--anything alive, or wish to.'

Beauchamp's voice choked. Rosamund saw tears leap out of the stern face

of her dearest now in wrath with her.

'Is he ill?' she faltered.

'He is. You own to a strong dislike of him, do you not?'

'But not to desire any harm to him.'

'Not a whipping,' Mr. Culbrett murmured.

Everard Romfrey overheard it.

He had allowed Mrs. Culling to be sent for, that she might with a bare

affirmative silence Nevil, when his conduct was becoming intolerable

before the guests of the house.

'That will do, ma'am,' he dismissed her.

Beauchamp would not let her depart.

'I must have your distinct reply, and in Mr. Romfrey's presence:--say,

that if you accused him you were mistaken, or that they were mistaken who

supposed you had accused him. I must have the answer before you go.'

'Sir, will you learn manners!' Mr. Romfrey said to him, with a rattle of

the throat.

Beauchamp turned his face from-her.

Colonel Halkett offered her his arm to lead her away.

'What is it? Oh, what is it?' she whispered, scarcely able to walk, but

declining the colonel's arm.

'You ought not to have been dragged out here,' said he. 'Any one might

have known there would be no convincing of Captain Beauchamp. That old

rascal in Bevisham has been having a beating; that's all. And a very

beautiful day it is!--a little too hot, though. Before we leave, you must

give me a lesson or two in gardening.'

'Dr. Shrapnel--Mr. Romfrey!' said Rosamund half audibly under the

oppression of the more she saw than what she said.

The colonel talked of her renown in landscape-gardening. He added

casually: 'They met the other day.'

'By accident?'

'By chance, I suppose. Shrapnel defends one of your Steynham poaching

vermin.'

'Mr. Romfrey struck him?--for that? Oh, never!' Rosamund exclaimed.

'I suppose he had a long account to settle.'

She fetched her breath painfully. 'I shall never be forgiven.'

'And I say that a gentleman has no business with idols,' the colonel

fumed as he spoke. 'Those letters of Shrapnel to Nevil Beauchamp are a

scandal on the name of Englishman.'

'You have read that shocking one, Colonel Halkett?'

'Captain Baskelett read it out to us.'

'He? Oh! then . . .' She stopped:--Then the author of this mischief is

clear to me! her divining hatred of Cecil would have said, but her humble

position did not warrant such speech. A consideration of the lowliness

necessitating this restraint at a moment when loudly to denounce

another's infamy with triumphant insight would have solaced and supported

her, kept Rosamund dumb.

She could not bear to think of her part in the mischief.

She was not bound to think of it, knowing actually nothing of the

occurrence.

Still she felt that she was on her trial. She detected herself running in

and out of her nature to fortify it against accusations rather than

cleanse it for inspection. It was narrowing in her own sight. The

prospect of her having to submit to a further interrogatory, shut it up

entrenched in the declaration that Dr. Shrapnel had so far outraged her

sentiments as to be said to have offended her: not insulted, perhaps, but

certainly offended.

And this was a generous distinction. It was generous; and, having

recognized the generosity, she was unable to go beyond it.

She was presently making the distinction to Miss Halkett. The colonel had

left her at the door of the house: Miss Halkett sought admission to her

private room on an errand of condolence, for she had sympathized with her

very much in the semi-indignity Nevil had forced her to undergo: and very

little indeed had she been able to sympathize with Nevil, who had been

guilty of the serious fault of allowing himself to appear moved by his

own commonplace utterances; or, in other words, the theme being hostile

to his audience, he had betrayed emotion over it without first evoking

the spirit of pathos.

'As for me,' Rosamund replied, to some comforting remarks of Miss

Halkett's, 'I do not understand why I should be mixed up in Dr.

Shrapnel's misfortunes: I really am quite unable to recollect his words

to me or his behaviour: I have only a positive impression that I left his

house, where I had gone to see Captain Beauchamp, in utter disgust, so

repelled by his language that I could hardly trust myself to speak of the

man to Mr. Romfrey when he questioned me. I did not volunteer it. I am

ready to say that I believe Dr. Shrapnel did not intend to be insulting.

I cannot say that he was not offensive.

You know, Miss Halkett, I would willingly, gladly have saved him from

anything like punishment.'

'You are too gentle to have thought of it,' said Cecilia.

'But I shall never be forgiven by Captain Beauchamp. I see in his eyes

that he accuses me and despises me.'

'He will not be so unjust, Mrs. Culling.'

Rosamund begged that she might hear what Nevil had first said on his

arrival.

Cecilia related that they had seen him walking swiftly across the park,

and that Mr. Romfrey had hailed him, and held his hand out; and that

Captain Beauchamp had overlooked it, saying he feared Mr. Romfrey's work

was complete. He had taken her father's hand and hers and his touch was

like ice.

'His worship of that Dr. Shrapnel is extraordinary,' quoth Rosamund. 'And

how did Mr. Romfrey behave to him?'

'My father thinks, very forbearingly.'

Rosamund sighed and made a semblance of wringing her hands. 'It seems to

me that I anticipated ever since I heard of the man . . . or at least

ever since I saw him and heard him, he would be the evil genius of us

all: if I dare include myself. But I am not permitted to escape! And,

Miss Halkett, can you tell me how it was that my name--that I became

involved? I cannot imagine the circumstances which would bring me forward

in this unhappy affair.'

Cecilia replied: 'The occasion was, that Captain Beauchamp so scornfully

contrasted the sort of injury done by Dr. Shrapnel's defence of a poacher

on his uncle's estate, with the severe chastisement inflicted by Mr.

Romfrey in revenge for it. He would not leave the subject.'

'I see him--see his eyes!' cried Rosamund, her bosom heaving and sinking

deep, as her conscience quavered within her. 'At last Mr. Romfrey

mentioned me?'

'He stood up and said you had been personally insulted by Dr. Shrapnel.'

Rosamund meditated in a distressing doubt of her conscientious

truthfulness.

'Captain Beauchamp will be coming to me; and how can I answer him? Heaven

knows I would have shielded the poor man, if possible--poor wretch!

Wicked though he is, one has only to hear of him suffering! But what can

I answer? I do recollect now that Mr. Romfrey compelled me from question

to question to confess that the man had vexed me. Insulted, I never said.

At the worst, I said vexed. I would not have said insulted, or even

offended, because Mr. Romfrey . . . ah! we know him. What I did say, I

forget. I have no guide to what I said but my present feelings, and they

are pity for the unfortunate man much more than dislike.--Well, I must go

through the scene with Nevil!' Rosamund concluded her outcry of

ostensible exculpation.

She asked in a cooler moment how it was that Captain Beauchamp had so far

forgotten himself as to burst out on his uncle before the guests of the

house. It appeared that he had wished his uncle to withdraw with him, and

Mr. Romfrey had bidden him postpone private communications. Rosamund

gathered from one or two words of Cecilia's that Mr. Romfrey, until

finally stung by Nevil, had indulged in his best-humoured banter.