"the marble statue of an antique god
may win our admiration for a time,
seeing it lacks not any outward grace,
but stands a type of flesh idealised.
yet as we gaze in silent wonderment,
we weary of the irresponsive stone,
because the cold perfection wants a soul."
it was without doubt a charming cottage--such as one reads of in a fairy tale. clay walls, thatched roof, wide diamond-paned casements, and twisted chimney, with all the violent colours subdued to a pleasant neutral tint by the sun and rain, while ivy, rose-trees and wistaria clambered over all, enclosing it in a network of greenery.
and the garden--oh, it was a most delightful garden; not too neat, but all the handiwork of man softened by the gentle touch of nature. tall hollyhocks, odorous stocks, crimson-tipped daisies, flaunting dahlias, and staring sunflowers grew together in riotous sweetness, breaking bounds here and there as they nodded over the low white fence and bent across the narrow path leading up to the rose-wreathed trellis of the porch. there was an apple-tree, too, on one side--a gnarled, moss-tufted apple-tree, already snowy with white blossoms, and on the other a low-branched cherry-tree, looking like a frosted twelfth cake. pigeons fluttered around the eaves of the cottage, fowls strutted among the flowers, and over all blazed the hot sun of summer from the cloud-dappled sky. it was really charming in its rustic picturesqueness, and mrs. belswin, pausing at the gate, looked regretfully at this vision of bucolic ease so far removed from her own feverish existence.
"if i had been a village girl i might have been a good woman," she thought, walking up to the porch; "but i daresay i should have tired of this innocent sweetness and gone up to the evil life of london, as all village beauties have done."
on knocking at the door it was opened shortly by a tiny woman, old, shrivelled, and evil-looking enough to have been the witch of the cottage. not that mrs. belk was ill-looking; on the contrary, she must have been pretty when young, for she still retained a sufficiency of beauty to warrant a second glance; but there was a restless look in her dark eyes, a settled sneer on her thin lips, and a generally discontented expression on her face which repelled the onlooker. mrs. belswin had an intuitive capability of reading faces, and the first glance she threw on this little figure with the withered face put her at once on her guard. on her guard against a cottager! mrs. belswin would have laughed at the idea. still, the fact remains that mrs. belk bore her character in her face, and mrs. belswin at once put herself on her guard against mrs. belk. hardly probable that these two women would meet again. the cottager could never have it in her power to harm the lady; but in spite of the absurdity of the situation, mrs. belswin, with that inherent suspicion created by a long life of duplicity and watchfulness, did not think it beneath her dignity to pick and choose her words while talking to this humble woman, in case chance should turn her into a possible enemy.
"i beg your pardon," she said slowly; "but i am very tired, and would like to rest."
"there's a public a little way on, ma'am," replied mrs. belk, respectfully, by no means inclined to entertain a stranger.
"i prefer to rest here," said mrs. belswin, coolly. "you know me, i daresay--miss pethram's companion."
"mrs. belsin?" said the old woman, doubtfully.
"let the lady come in, mother," remarked the slow soft voice of a man inside the cottage. "don't you see she looks tired?"
whereupon mrs. belk with manifest reluctance moved to one side, and miss pethram's companion entered the room to find herself face to face with the handsomest man she had ever seen. he offered her a chair in silence, and she sat down thankfully, while mrs. belk closed the door, and the rustic apollo stood leaning against the table looking at their visitor.
handsome! yes; splendidly handsome this man, in a massive herculean fashion. one who would be called a magnificent animal; for there was no intellect in the fresh-coloured face, no intelligence in the bright blue eyes, and his whole figure had but beauty and symmetry after the fashion of a brute. he was very tall--over six feet--with long limbs, a great breadth of chest, and a small, well-shaped head covered with crisp locks of curly golden hair. his skin was browned by the sun, he had a well-shaped nose, sleepy blue eyes, and his mouth and chin were hidden by a magnificent golden beard which swept his chest. nature had lavished her gift of physical beauty on this man, but the casket contained no jewel, for the soul which would have lent light to the eyes, expression to the mouth, and noble bearing to the body, was absent, and samson belk was simply a fine animal whom one would admire like a soulless picture, but tire of in a few moments. mrs. belswin's first thought was, "what a handsome man!" her second, "what a brute he would be to the woman who loved him!"
they were a curious couple, the little withered mother and the tall handsome son, dissimilar enough in appearance to negative the relationship except for the expression of the face; for there, in the countenance of the man, appeared the same expression that pervaded the face of the woman. the eyes were not so restless, because they had rather a sleepy expression, the sneer on the lips was hidden by the drooping moustache, and the general look was more of ill-humour than discontent: but in spite of the physical difference between them, no one could have helped noticing, by the worst traits of the woman appearing in the man, that this splendid specimen of humanity was the offspring of this dwarfish feminine personality.
"you are sir rupert's head bailiff, are you not?" said mrs. belswin, when she had sufficiently admired her host.
"yes, madam, i have that honour."
he spoke in a slow sleepy voice, eminently attractive, and suited to his appearance; a voice which, in its languor and oily softness, had an accent of refinement and culture. yet this man was a simple rustic, a bailiff, one of the peasant class. it was most perplexing; and mrs. belswin, clever woman of the world as she was, felt herself puzzled. she was a woman and inquisitive, so she set herself to work to solve this problem by a series of artful questions.
"have you been a bailiff here long?"
"about four years, madam. i was bailiff to sir robert, and when sir rupert came into the title he kindly kept me on."
"i should think you were fitted for better things."
belk gazed at her in a slow, bovine fashion, and a spark of admiration flashed into his sleepy eyes as he looked at this stately woman who spoke in such a friendly manner.
"it's very kind of you to say so, madam, but i have no one to say a good word for me."
"ah! the rich never say a good word for the poor, my lady," said mrs. belk, with fawning deprecation. "if looks go for anything, my samson ought to live in a palace. he's the finest wrestler in all the county, and the best shot, and the most daring rider----"
"and the poorest man," finished samson, with a coarse laugh, which betrayed his real nature. "aye, aye, mother, if i'd money to play the swell, i'd cut a dash with the best of these fine, lily-handed gents."
"what would you do?" asked mrs. belswin, curious to find out how different this man's soul was to his body.
"do!" echoed the giant, folding his arms; "why, madam, i'd keep a fine stable, and race my horses at the derby. i'd marry a lady, and have a fine house with servants, and the finest of wine to drink and food to eat--that's what i'd do."
"a very modest ambition, truly," said mrs. belswin, with a scarcely concealed sneer. "i presume you would not cultivate your brains."
"i've had enough schooling," growled belk, stroking his beard. "mother made me learn things, and a fine time i had of it."
"you were never a good boy, samson," said his mother, shaking her head with a look of pride which belied her words. "handsome is as handsome does--that's what i always tells him, my lady."
"if it were handsome does as handsome is, your son would be a clever man," replied mrs. belswin, rising to go.
neither mrs. belk nor samson were clever enough to understand this remark, but after a time a faint idea of what she meant dawned on the obtuse intellect of the giant, and he smiled approvingly.
"won't you have a glass of milk, my lady?" asked mrs. belk, dropping a curtsey.
"no, thank you!"
"may i have the honour of showing you the nearest way through the wood, madam?" said belk, hat in hand, resuming his polite manner, and languid mode of speaking.
"no, thank you, i know my way," answered mrs. belswin, coolly; "many thanks for your courtesy--good-day."
when she had vanished, samson belk stood for some minutes in a brown study, then, recovering himself with a huge sigh, ordered his mother to bring him a mug of beer.
"eh, she's a fine madam that," he said, as he drank the ale; "got a spice of the devil in her too. i wish i could marry her."
"that wouldn't do much good," said his mother contemptuously, "she's only a companion. now if you married miss pethram, you'd have all this place, and be master here."
"not much chance of that," growled belk, putting on his hat; "she's in love with that friend of parson's."
"a whipper-snapper."
"aye, that he is. i could smash him with one hand; not any great shakes with money either, as i've heard tell. what'll sir rupert say to his courting?"
"well, i heard at the great house this morning, that sir rupert was on his way home."
belk scowled and shook his broad shoulders in an uneasy manner. he did not like sir rupert, who was a severe master, and therefore was not at all pleased to hear that his term of liberty would soon be over.
"i hope accounts are all right, samson," said his mother anxiously. "let sir rupert see you've been a good servant, lad."
"i'm good enough for the wage i get," growled belk, sulkily; "if sir rupert meddles with me, he'll get the worst of it; i'll stand no man's handling, d----n me if i do."
he thrust his hands into his pockets and strolled off defiantly.
"where are you going, lad?" asked his mother, as he paused at the gate.
"to 'the badger,'" retorted mr. belk, curtly, and hurriedly retreated so as to escape his parent's expostulations.
"the lad's always there," said mrs. belk to herself as she closed the door; "he's after no good i reckon. eh, if i could only get some money, i'd march him off to america, where he could live like a gentleman. but there's no chance of that while rich folk have the handling of the money."
meanwhile, mrs. belswin was walking rapidly back to the house, thinking over the curious couple she had just left.
"not a bit like the ordinary people," she thought. "the mother's not to be trusted except as concerns the son, and the son--well, he's discontented with his lot. i wonder if rupert finds him a good servant. he must, or he wouldn't keep him on. but if mr. samson belk tries any games on with his master, i think he'll get the worst of it."
"good-day, mrs. belswin."
it was gelthrip, the curate, who saluted her, a lank lean man, with a hatchet face, lantern-jawed, and clean shaven, not by any means what the world would term handsome. dressed in black he looked like a crow, and his hoarse voice--for he suffered from clergyman's soar throat--was not unlike the cawing of those dreary birds. he was a gossip, and very inquisitive. he supported a sick sister, and professed high church principles, and it was lucky that he should have vowed himself to celibacy, for certainly no woman would have taken him as her husband. he had long bony hands, and cracked his knuckles in order to punctuate his sentences, and he talked without ceasing, mixing up religion, gossip, literature, music, art, and science in one heterogeneous mass of chatter.
having drawn the cork of his eloquence by saying good-day, and touching his low-crowned hat, mr. gelthrip cracked his knuckles cheerfully, and poured forth a flood of aimless nonsense.
"good-day! ah, yes, it is a charming day, is it not. the blue of the sky, with the lark singing so delightfully. you know shelley's poem do you not--yes--turner might paint that scene. puts me in mind of his vale of health, and this place by the way, is very healthy--plenty of oxygen in the air for weak lungs. ah--ah, my heart swells with goodness towards the creator of all things as i drink in the air. i think i saw you coming out of belk's cottage, mrs. belswin!"
"yes! i went in there to rest for a few minutes."
"a great contrast, mother and son, mrs. belswin. the witch of endor and apollo, the far darter. yes! but a touching instance of parental affection, for she is devoted to her son. a devotion of which i regret to say he's not worthy, mrs. belswin, not worthy, my dear lady. he never comes to church. passes his time in public-houses, and at wrestling matches, and horse-races. a most godless young man."
"but surely sir rupert objects to this conduct?"
"he does not know, mrs. belswin. belk, in a rough fashion, is crafty, very crafty, but when the baronet returns i have no doubt he will hear from others of the behaviour of this misguided young man. i deem it my duty," continued mr. gelthrip, inflating his chest, "to inform sir rupert of his servant's misdeeds."
"i don't think i would do that," said mrs. belswin, drily. "sir rupert does not care about his private business being meddled with."
"ah, you know sir rupert then?"
mrs. belswin bit her lip in vexation, for she saw that she had made a mistake, and at once hastened to put herself right in the eyes of this tale-bearer.
"no! of course not. i only speak from hearsay."
"sir rupert," said the curate in a dogmatic fashion, "does not, i believe, care about the church, therefore, as you say, he may resent my interference, but i would not be doing my duty as a clergyman if i did not warn him of the dissipated ways of his bailiff."
"do you think it is kind to deprive the young man of his situation?"
"in this case, mrs. belswin, i do. he is dissipated and neglects his business. he has the handling of money, and, seeing he is always betting on races, he may be tempted to--well, you know what i mean."
"i know this, sir," said mrs. belswin, with great spirit, "that you are about to act a most unworthy part. if this man is as you say, warn him, remonstrate with him, but don't take the bread out of his mouth by getting him dismissed. charity covers a multitude of sins. that remark is in the bible, i believe. if so, practise what you preach, and you will be far more respected than if you drive this man to despair by taking away his only means of livelihood. good morning."
she bowed and walked off, leaving the curate staring after her with open mouth, the stream of his eloquence being for once dried up.
reflections on the part of mr. gelthrip.--"where has this woman been brought up that she manifests such little reverence for the cloth? a dangerous woman, i am afraid, and not at all suited to be the companion of miss pethram. i'm afraid i shall have to warn sir rupert about her as well as about belk. as for belk! it is my duty--my duty as a clergyman, to open his master's eyes to the deplorable state of this young man. he gambles, bets, plays cards, drinks, all these things entail money, and yet he spends far more than his salary, so i must warn sir rupert of his bailiffs real character. now, mrs. belswin--ah!"
there was a good deal of spiteful meaning in the curate's "ah," and there was no doubt that mrs. belswin had made a bitter enemy of this well-meaning but meddlesome young man.
reflections on the part of mrs. belswin.--"i've been preaching a sermon to a man whose duty it is to preach one to me. saul among the prophets this time. i'm not sorry, for i hate those meek young men who make mischief under the pretence of doing good. why are these clergymen so meddlesome? it's none of his business to enlighten rupert about belk. if belk is dissipated, i know rupert will find it out quick enough and discharge him. i shouldn't like to be either rupert or the curate if such a thing does come to pass, for belk is a most unforgiving man. i can see that in his face. i have made an enemy of this rev. meekness. well, he can't harm me until rupert comes home, and then--ah well, i'll see."
