CHAPTER VIII. Farmer Blaise was not so astonished at the visit of Richard Feverell as that young gentleman expected him to be. The farmer seated in his easy chair in the little low-roofed parlor of an old-fashioned farmhouse with a long clay pipe on the table at his elbow and a veteran pointer at his feet had already given audience to three distinguished members of the Feverell blood who had come separately according to their accustomed secretiveness and with one object. In the morning it was Sir Austin himself. Shortly after his departure arrived Austin Wentworth close on his heels, Algernon, known about Lowburn as the captain, popular wherever he was known. Farmer Blaise reclined in considerable elation, he had brought these great people to a pretty low pitch. He had welcomed them hospitably, as a British yeoman should, but not budged a foot in his demands not to the baronet, not to the captain, not to good young Mr. Wentworth. For Farmer Blaise was a solid Englishman, and on hearing from the baronet a frank confession of the hold he had on the family he determined to tighten his hold and only relax it in exchange for tangible advantages compensation to his pocket, his wounded person and his still more wounded sentiments the total indemnity being in round figures 300 pounds and a spoken apology from the prime offender young Mr. Richard. Even then there was a reservation, provided the farmer said nobody had been tampering with any of his witnesses in that ease Farmer Blaise declared the money might go and he would transport Tom Bakewell as he had sworn he would and it goes hard too with an accomplice by law added the farmer knocking the ashes leisurely out of his pipe he had no wish to bring any disgrace anywhere he respected the inmates of Rainham Abbey as in duty bound he should be sorry to see them in trouble only no tampering with his witnesses he was a man for law rank was much money was much but law was more in this country law was above the sovereign to tamper with the law was treason to the realm I come to you direct the baronet explained I tell you candidly what way I discovered my son to be mixed up in this miserable affair I promise you indemnity for your loss and an apology that shall I trust satisfy your feelings assuring you that to tamper with witnesses is not the province of a febrile all I ask of you in return is not to press the prosecution at present it rests with you I am bound to do all that lies in my power for this imprisoned man how and wherefore my son was prompted to suggest or assist in such an act I cannot explain for I do not know home said the farmer I think I do you know the cause Sir Austin stared I beg you to confide it to me least I can put in my neighbor it with a guess said the farmer we ain't good friends Sir Austin me and your son just now not to say cordial I see Sir Austin I'm a man as don't like young gentlemen approaching on his grounds without his permission in special when birds is plentiful on their own it appear he do like it consequently has to flick this whip as them fellas at the races all in this air rings mine as much as to say and who's been hit he's had a fair warning I'm sorry for it but that's just the case Sir Austin retired to communicate with his son when he should find him Algernon's interview passed off in ale and promises he also assured farmer blaze that no febrile could be affected by his proviso no less did Austin Wentworth the farmer was satisfied money safe I know said he now for the apology said farmer blaze thrust his legs further out and his head further back the farmer naturally reflected that the three separate visits had been conspired together still the Baronettes frankness and the Baronettes not having reserved himself for the third and final charge puzzled him he was considering whether they were a deep or a shallow lot when young Richard was announced a pretty little girl with the roses of thirteen springs in her cheeks and abundant beautiful bright tresses tripped before the boy and loitered shyly by the farmer's armchair to steal a look at the handsome newcomer she was introduced to Richard as the farmer's niece Lucy Desbro the daughter of a lieutenant in the Royal Navy and what was better though the farmer did not pronounce it so loudly a real good girl neither the excellence of her character nor her rank in life tempted Richard to inspect the little lady he made an awkward bow and sat down the farmer's eyes twinkled her father he continued fought and fell for his country a man as fights for its country a right to hold up his head I with any in the land Desbro's or Darcyt do you know that family master febrile Richard did not know them and by his air did not desire to become acquainted with any offshoot of that family she can make puddings and pies the farmer went on regardless of his auditor's gloom she's a lady as good as the best of them I don't care about their being Catholics the Desbro's or Darcyt are gentlemen and she's good for the piano too she strums to me of evenings I'm for the old tunes she's for the new gal like well she's with me she shall be taught things useful she can parley voodoo and foot it as it goes been in France a couple a year I prefer the singing out or the talking out come loose tune up eh you won't that song about the vifendir a female farmer blaze volunteered the translation of the title who wears the you guess what and marches along with the French soldiers a pretty brazen bitter goods I should fancy mademoiselle Lucy corrected her uncle's French but objected to do more the handsome crossboy had almost taken away her voice for speech as it was and sing in his company she could not so she stood a hand on her uncle's chair to stay herself from falling while she wriggled a dozen various shapes of refusal and shook her head at the farmer with fixed eyes ah ha laughed the farmer dismissing her they soon learned the difference twix the young and the olden go along loose and learn your lessons for tomorrow reluctantly the daughter of the Royal Navy glided away her uncle's head followed her to the door where she dallyed to catch a last impression of the young stranger's lowering face and darted through farmer blaze laughed and chuckled she ain't so fond of her uncle is that every day not that she ain't a good nurse the kindest little soul you'd meet of a winter's walk she'll read to you and make drinks and sing to if you likes it and she won't be tired an obstinate good and she be lesser the farmer may have designed by these eulogies of his niece to give his visitor time to recover his composure and establish a common topic his diversion only irritated and confused our shame eaten youth Richard's intention had been to come to the farmer's threshold to summon the farmer thither and in a loud and haughty tone then and there to take upon himself the whole burden of the charge against Tom Bakewell he had strayed during his passage to bell Thorpe somewhat back to his old nature and his being compelled to enter the house of his enemy sit in his chair and endure an introduction to his family was more than he bargained for he commenced blinking hard in preparation for the horrible dose to which delay and the farmer's cordiality added inconceivable bitters farmer blaze was quite at his ease no wise in a hurry he spoke of the weather and the harvest of recent doings up at the abbey glanced over that year's cricketing hoped that no future feverell would lose a leg to the game Richard saw and heard arson in it all he blinked harder as he neared the cup in a moment of silence he seized it with a gasp Mr. Blaze I have come to tell you that I am the person who set fire to your rick the other night an odd consternation formed around the farmer's mouth he changed his posture and said I that's what you come to tell me sir yes said Richard firmly and that be a hole yes Richard reiterated the farmer again changed his posture then me lad you come to tell me a lie farmer blaze looks straight at the boy undismayed by the dark flush of ire he had kindled you dare to call me a liar cried Richard starting up I say the farmer renewed his first emphasis and smacked his thigh there too that's a lie Richard held out his clenched fist you have twice insulted me you have struck me you have dare to call me a liar I would have apologized I would have asked your pardon to have got off that fellow in prison yes I would have degraded myself that another man should not suffer for my deed quite proper interpose the farmer and you take this opportunity of insulting me a fresh you're a coward sir nobody but a coward would have insulted me in his own house sit you down sit you down young master said the farmer indicating the chair and cooling the outburst with his hand sit you down don't you be hasty if you hadn't been hasty the other day we should have been friends yet sit you down sir I should be sorry to reckon you out a liar Mr. Feverell or anybody or your name I respects your father though we're opposite politics I'm willing to thank well yeah what I say is that as you say ain't the truth mind I don't like you none the worse for it but it ain't what is that's all you know is it as well as I Richard disdaining to show signs of being pacified angrily receded himself the farmer spoke sense and the boy after his late interview with Austin had become capable of perceiving vaguely that a towering passion is hardly the justification for a wrong course of conduct calm continued the farmer not unkindly what else have you to say here was the same bitter cup he had already once drained brimming at Richard's lips again alas poor human nature that empties to the dregs a dozen of these evil drinks to evade the single one which destiny less cruel had insisted upon the boy blinked and tossed it off I came to say that I regretted the revenge I had taken on you for your striking me farmer blaze nodded and now you've done young gentlemen still another cup full I should be very much obliged Richard formally began but his stomach was turned he could but sip and sip and gather a distaste which threatened to make the penitential act impossible very much obliged he repeated much obliged if you would be so kind and it struck him that had he spoken this at first he would have given it a wording more persuasive with the farmer and more worthy of his own pride more honest in fact for a sense of the dishonesty of what he was saying caused him to cringe and simulate humility to deceive the farmer and the more he said the less he felt his words and feeling them less he inflated them more so kind he stammered so kind fancy a federal asking this big brute to be so kind as to do me the favor me the favor to exert yourself it's all to please Austin to endeavor to him to there's no saying it the cup was full as ever Richard dashed at it again what I came to ask is whether you would have the kindness to try what you could do what an infamous shame to have to beg like this do to save do to ensure whether you would have the kindness it seemed out of all human power to gulp it down the draft grew more and more important to proclaim one's iniquity to apologize for one's wrongdoing thus much could be done but to beg a favor of the offended party that was beyond the self abasement any feverell could consent to pride however whose inevitable battle is against itself drew aside the curtains of poor Tom's prison crying a second time behold your benefactor and with the words burning in his ears Richard swallowed the dose well then I want you Mr. Blaze if you don't mind will you help me to get this man Bakewell off his punishment to do Farmer Blaze justice he waited very patiently for the boy though he could not quite see why he did not take the gate at the first offer all said he when he heard and had pondered on the request home ah we'll see about it tomorrow but if he's innocent you know we shan't make him guilty it was I did it Richard declared the farmers half-amused expression sharpened a bit so young gentlemen and you're sorry for the night's work I shall see that you are paid the full extent of your losses thank he said the farmer dryly and if this poor man is released tomorrow I don't care what the amount is Farmer Blaze deflected his head twice in silence bribery one motion expressed corruption the other now said he leaning forward and fixing his elbows on his knees while he counted the case at his fingers ends excuse the liberty but wishing to know where this era's money to come from I should like just ask if so be sir Austin know of this my father knows nothing of it replied Richard the farmer flung back in his chair lie number two said his shoulders soured by the British aversion to being plotted at and not dealt with openly and you've the money already young gentlemen I shall ask my father for it and he'll hand it out certainly he will Richard had not the slightest intention of ever letting his father into his councils a good 300 pounds you know the farmer suggested no consideration of the extent of damages and the size of the some affected young Richard who said boldly he will not object when I tell him I want that some it was natural Farmer Blaze should be a trifle suspicious that a youth's guarantee would hardly be given for his father's readiness to disperse such a thumping bill unless he had previously received his father's sanction and authority home said he why not to told him before the farmer threw an objectionable shrewdness into his query that caused Richard to compress his mouth and glance high Farmer Blaze was positive towards a lie you still hold to it you fired the Rick he asked the blame is mine quote Richard with the loftiness of a patriot of old Rome no no the straightforward Britain put him aside you did it or you didn't dot did you do it or no thrust in a corner Richard said I did it Farmer Blaze reached his hand to the bell it was answered in an instant by little Lucy who received orders to fetch in a dependent at Belthorpe going by the name of the Bantam and made her exit as she had entered with her eyes on the young stranger now said the farmer these be my principles I'm a plain man Mr. Ferrell above board with me and you'll find me handsome try to circumvent me and I'm an ugly customer I'll show you have no animosity your father pays you apologize that's enough for me let Tom Bake will fight it out with the law and I'll look on the law wasn't on the spot I suppose so the law ain't much witness but I am least wise the Bantam is I tell you young gentlemen the Bantam sought it's no more use whatever you're denying that evidence and where's the good sir I ask what comes of it whether it be you or whether it be Tom Bakewell ain't all one if I holds back ain't it similar it's the truth I want and here it comes added the farmer as Miss Lucy ushered in the Bantam who presented a curious figure for that rare divinity to enliven end of chapter 8 chapter 9 the ordeal of Richard Feverell this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Rita Butros the ordeal of Richard Feverell by George Meredith chapter 9 in build of body gate and stature Giles Jinxon the Bantam was a tolerably fair representative of the Punic elephant whose part with diverse anticipations the generals of the Blaze and Feverell forces from opposing ranks expected him to play Giles surnamed the Bantam on account of some forgotten sally of his youth or infancy moved and looked elephantine it's sufficed that Giles was well-fed to assure that Giles was faithful if uncorrupted the farm which supplied to him ungrudging Proventer had all his best capacity for work in willing exercise the farmer who held the farm his instinct reverenced as the fountain source of beef and bacon to say nothing of beer which was plentiful at Belthorpe and good this farmer Blaze well knew and he reckoned consequently that here was an animal always to be relied on a sort of human composition out of dog horse and bull a cut above each of these quadrupeds in usefulness and costing proportionately more but on the whole worth the money and therefore invaluable as everything worth its money must be to a wise man when the stealing of grain had been made known at Belthorpe the Bantam a fellow thresher with Tom Bakewell had shared with him the shadow of the guilt Farmer Blaze if he hesitated which to suspect did not debate a second as to which he would discard and when the Bantam said he had seen Tom secreting Pilkins in a sack Farmer Blaze chose to believe him and off went poor Tom told to rejoice in the clemency that spared his appearance at sessions the Bantam small sleepy orbit saw many things and just at the right moment it seemed he was certainly the first to give the clue at Belthorpe on the night of the conflagration and he may therefore have seen poor Tom retreating stealthily from the scene as he avert he did lowburn had it say on the subject rustic lowburn hinted broadly at a young woman in the case and moreover told a tale of how these fellow threshers had in noble rivalry one day turned upon each other to see which of the two threshed the best whereof the Bantam still bore marks and malice it was said however there he stood and tugged his forelocks to the company and if truth really had concealed herself in him she must have been hard set to find her unlikeliest hiding place now said the farmer marshaling forth his elephant with the confidence of one who delivers his ace of trumps tell this young gentleman what you saw on the night of the fire Bantam the Bantam jerked a bit of a bow to his patron and then swung round fully obscuring him from Richard Richard fixed his eyes on the floor while the Bantam in rude historic commenced his narrative knowing what was to come and thoroughly nerve to confuse the main incident Richard barely listened to his barbarous location but when the recital arrived at the point where the Bantam affirmed he had seen Tom Bagels with Owen Hoyes Richard faced him and was amazed to find himself being mutely addressed by a series of intensely significant grimaces signs and winks what do you mean why are you making those faces at me cried the boy indignantly farmer blaze leaned round the Bantam to have a look at him and be held by the most missed mask ever given to man Bantam making no faces at nobody growled the sulky elephant the farmer commanded him to face about and finish I see Tom Bagel the Bantam recommenced and again the contortions of a horrible wink were directed at Richard the boy might well believe this churl was lying and he did and was emboldened to exclaim you never saw Tom Bagel set fire to that Rick the Bantam swore to it grimacing and accompaniment I tell you said Richard I put the Lucifer's there myself the suborned elephant was staggered he meant to telegraph to the young gentlemen that he was loyal and true to certain gold pieces that had been given him and that in the right place and at the right time he should prove so why was he thus suspected why was he not understood I thought to see and then muttered the Bantam trying a middle course this brought down on him the farmer who roared thought you thought what do you mean speak out and don't be thinking thought what the devil's that how could he see who it was on a pitch dark night Richard put in thought the farmer bellowed louder thought devil take you when you took your thought it hello what do you screw in your eye at Mr. Ferrell for I say young gentleman have you spoke to this chap before now I replied Richard I have not seen him before farmer blaze grasped the two arms of the chair he sat on and glared his doubts come said he to the Bantam speak out and had done with it say what you saw and none of your thoughts damn your thoughts you saw Tom Bakewell fire that they're Rick the farmer pointed at some musk pots in the window what business how you to be thinking you're a witness thinking ain't evidence what are you say tomorrow before magistrate mind what she says today you'll stick by tomorrow thus adjured the Bantam hitched his breach what on earth the young gentleman meant he was at a loss to speculate he could not believe that the young gentleman wanted to be transported but if he had been paid to help that why he would and considering that this day's evidence rather bound him down to the morrows he determined after much plowing and harrowing through obstinance shocks of hair to be not altogether positive as to the person it is possible that he became thereby more a mansion of truth than he previously had been for the night as he said was so dark that you could not see your hand before your face and though as he expressed it you might be mortal sure of a man you could not identify him upon oath and the party he had taken for Tom Bakewell and could have sworn to might have been the young gentleman present especially as he was ready to swear it upon oath so ended the Bantam no sooner had he ceased then Farmer Blaze jumped up from his chair and made a fine effort to lift him out of the room from the point of his toe he failed and sank back groaning with the pain of the exertion and disappointment there are liars every one he cried liars perjurs bribers and corruptors stop he said to the Bantam who was slinking away you've done for yourself already you swore to it I didn't said the Bantam doggedly you swore to it the farmer vociferated afresh the Bantam played a tune upon the handle of the door and still affirmed that he did not a double contradiction at which the farmer absolutely raged in his chair and was hoarse as he called out a third time that the Bantam had sworn to it Noa said the Bantam ducking his pull Noa he repeated in a lower tone and then while a somber grin betokening idiotic enjoyment of his profound casuistical quibble worked at his jaw not up an oath he added with a twitch of the shoulder and an angular jerk of the elbow Farmer Blaze looked vacantly at Richard as if to ask him what he thought of England's peasantry after the sample they had there Richard would have preferred not to laugh but his dignity gave way to his sense of the ludicrous and he let fly a shout the farmer was in no laughing mood he turned a wide eye back to the door lucky for him he exclaimed seeing the Bantam had vanished for his fingers itched to break that stubborn head he grew very puffy and addressed Richard solemnly now look here Mr. Feverell you've been a tamperin with my witness it's no use denying I say you have sir you're some of you I don't care about no Feverell my witness there has been bribed the Bantam's been bribed and he shivered his pipe with an energetic thump on the table bribed I knows it I could swear to upon oath Richard inquired with a grave face I upon oath said the farmer not observing the impertinence I take my Bible oath on it he has been corrupted my principal witness oh it's damn cunning but it won't do the trick I'll transport Tom Bakewell sure as a gun he shall travel that man shall sorry for you Mr. Feverell sorry you haven't seen how to treat me proper you are yours money won't do everything no it won't it'll corrupt a witness but it won't clear a felon I'll house you sir you're a boy and you'll learn better I asked no more than payment an apology and that I'd had taken content always provided my witnesses weren't tampered with now you must stand your luck all you Richard stood up and replied very well Mr. Blaze and if continued the farmer Tom Bakewell don't drag you into it after him why you're safe as I hope you'll be sincere it was not in consideration of my own safety that I sought this interview with you said Richard had erect grant you that the farmer responded grant you that you're bold enough young gentlemen comes with a blood that should be if you had only spoken truth I believe your father believe every word he said I do wish I could have said as much for sir Austin son and heir what cried Richard with an astonishment hardly to be feigned you have seen my father but Farmer Blaze had now such a scent for lies that he could detect them where they did not exist and mumbled gruffly I we knows all about that the boys from being irritated who could have told his father an old fear of his father came upon him and a touch of an old inclination to revolt my father knows of this said he very loudly and staring as he spoke right through the farmer who has played me false who would betray me to him it was Austin no one knew it but Austin yes and it was Austin who persuaded me to come here and submit to these indignities why couldn't he be open with me I shall never trust him again and why not you with me young gentlemen said the farmer I should trust you if you had Richard did not see the analogy he bowed stiffly and bad him good afternoon Farmer Blaze pulled the bell company the young gentlemen out Lucy he waved to the little damsel in the doorway do the honors and Mr. Richard you might have made a friend to me sir and it's not too late so to do I'm not cruel but I hate lies I whipped my boy Tom bigger than you for not being above board only yesterday I made him stand within swing of this chair and takes measure now if you come down to me and speak truth before the trial if it's only five minutes before it or if sir Austin was a gentleman it'll say there has been no tampering with any of my witnesses his word for it well and good I do my best to help off Tom Bakewell and I'm glad young gentlemen you've got a conscience about a poor man though he's a villain good afternoon sir Richard marched hastily out of the room and through the garden never so much as daining a glance at his wistful little guide who hung at the garden gate to watch him up the lane wondering a world of fancies about the handsome proud boy end of chapter nine chapter ten the ordeal of Richard Feverell this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Rita Butros the ordeal of Richard Feverell by George Meredith chapter ten to have determined upon an act something akin to heroism in its way and to have fulfilled it by lying heartily and so subverting the whole structure built by good resolution seems a sad downfall if we forget what human nature in its green weedy spring is composed of young Richard had quitted his cousin Austin fully resolved to do his penance and drink the bitter cup and he had drunk it drained many cups to the dregs and it was to no purpose still they floated before him brimmed trebly bitter away from Austin's influence he was almost the same boy who had slipped the guinea into Tom Bakewell's hand and the Lucifers into Farmer Blaze's Rick for good seed is long ripening a good boy is not made in a minute enough that the seed was in him he chafed on his road to Rainham at the scene he had just endured and the figure of Bellthorpe's fat tenant burnt like hot copper on the tablet of his brain in sufferably condescending and what is worse in the right Richard obscured as his mind's eye was by wounded pride saw that clearly and hated his enemy for it the more heavy Benson's tongue was nelling dinner as Richard arrived at the Abbey he hurried up to his room to dress accident or design had laid the book of Sir Austin's aphorisms open on the dressing table hastily combing his hair Richard glance down and read the dog returneth to his vomit the liar must eat his lie underneath was interjected in pencil the devil's mouthful young Richard ran downstairs feeling that his father had struck him in the face Sir Austin marked the scarlet stain on his son's cheekbones he sought the youth's eye but Richard would not look and sat conning his plate and abject copy of Adrian's succulent air at that employment how could he pretend to the relish of an epicure when he was painfully endeavoring to masticate the devil's mouthful heavy Benson sat upon the wretched dinner hippiest usually the silent member as if awakened by the unnatural stillness became sprightly like the goat sucker owl at night and spoke much of his book his digestion and his dreams and was spared both by Algernon and Adrian one inconsequent dream he related about fanciing himself quite young and rich and finding himself suddenly in a field cropping razors around him when just as he had by steps dainty as those of a French dancing master reached the middle he to his dismay beheld a path clear of the blood thirsty steel crop which he might have taken at first had he looked narrowly and there he was hippiest brethren regarded him with eyes that plainly said they wished he had remained there Sir Austin however drew forth his notebook and jotted down a reflection a composer of aphorisms can pluck blossoms even from a razor prop was not hippiest dream the very counterpart of Richard's position he had he looked narrowly might have taken the clear path he too had been making dainty steps till he was surrounded by the grinning blades and from that text Sir Austin preached to his son when they were alone little Claire was still too unwell to be permitted to attend the dessert and father and son were soon closeted together it was a strange meeting they seemed to have been separated so long the father took his son's hand they sat without a word passing between them silence said most the boy did not understand his father his father frequently thwarted him at times he thought his father foolish but that paternal pressure of his hand was eloquent to him of how warmly he was beloved he tried once or twice to steal his hand away conscious it was melting him the spirit of his pride and old rebellion whispered him to be hard unbending resolute hard he had entered his father's study hard he had met his father's eyes he could not meet them now his father set beside him gently with a manner that was almost meekness so he loved this boy the poor gentleman's lips moved he was praying internally to God for him by degrees and emotion awoke in the boy's bosom love is that blessed wand which wins the waters from the hardness of the heart Richard fought against it for the dignity of old rebellion the tears would come hot and struggling over the dams of pride shamefully fast they began to fall he could no longer conceal them or check the sobs sir Austin drew him nearer and nearer till the beloved head was on his breast an hour afterwards Adrian Harley Austin Wentworth and Algernon Feverl were summoned to the Baronet study Adrian came last there was a style of affable omnipotence about the wise youth as he slung himself into a chair and made an arch of the points of his fingers through which to gaze on his blundering kinsmen careless as one may be whose sagacity has foreseen and whose benevolent efforts have forestalled the point of danger at the threshold Adrian crossed his legs and only intruded on their introductory remarks so far as to hum half audibly at intervals ripped in and Richard were two pretty men in parody of the old ballad young Richard's red eyes and the Baronet's ruffled demeanor told him that an explanation had taken place and a reconciliation that was well the Baronet would now pay cheerfully Adrian summed and considered these matters and barely listened when the Baronet called attention to what he had to say which was elaborately to inform all present what all present very well knew that a Rick had been fired that his son was implicated as an accessory to the fact that the perpetrator was now imprisoned and that Richard's family were as it seemed to him bound in honor to do their utmost to effect the man's release then the Baronet stated that he had himself been down to Belforp his son likewise and that he had found every disposition in blaze to meet his wishes the lamp which ultimately was sure to be lifted up to illumine the acts of this secretive race began slowly to disbred its rays and a statement followed statement they saw that all had known of the business that all had been down to Belforp all save the wise youth Adrian who with due deference and a sarcastic shrug objected to the proceeding as putting them in the hands of the man blaze his wisdom shown forth in an oration so persuasive and aphoristic that had it not been based on a plea against honor it would have made Sir Austin waiver but its basis was expediency and the Baronet had a better aphorism of his own to confute him with expediency is man's wisdom Adrian Harley doing right is God's Adrian curbed his desire to ask Sir Austin whether an attempt to counteract the just working of the law was doing right the direct application of an aphorism was unpopular at Rainham I am to understand then said he that blaze can sense not to press the prosecution of course he won't Algernon remarked confound him he'll have his money and what does he want besides these agricultural gentlemen are delicate customers to deal with however if he really can sense I have his promise said the Baronet fondling his son young Richard looked up to his father as if he wished to speak he said nothing and Sir Austin took it as a mute reply to his caresses and caressed him the more Adrian perceived a reserve in the boys manner and as he was not quite satisfied that his chief should suppose him to have been the only idol and not the most acute and vigilant member of the family he commenced a cross examination of him by asking who had last spoken with the tenant of Belfort I think I saw him last murmured Richard and relinquished his father's hand Adrian fastened on his prey and left him with a distinct and satisfactory assurance of his amicable intentions no said Richard not the Federals joined in astounded chorus Richard sidled away from his father and repeated a shame faced no was he hostile inquired Adrian smoothing his palms and smiling yes the boy confessed here was quite another view of their position Adrian generally patient of results triumphed strongly at having evoked it and turned upon Austin Wentworth reproving him for inducing the boy to go down to Belfort Austin looked grieved he feared that Richard had faded in his good resolve I thought it his duty to go he observed it was said the Baronette emphatically and you see what comes of it sir Adrian struck in these agricultural gentlemen I repeat are delicate customers to deal with for my part I would prefer being in the hands of a policeman we are decidedly collared by blaze what were his words Ricky give it in his own Doric he said he would transport Tom Bakewell Adrian smoothed his palms and smiled again then they could afford to defy Mr. Blaze he informed them significantly and made once more a mysterious illusion to the Punic elephant bidding his relatives be at peace they were attaching in his opinion too much importance to Richard's complicity the man was a fool and a very extraordinary arsonite to have an accomplice at all it was a thing unknown in the annals of Rick burning but one would be severe than law itself to say that a boy of fourteen had instigated to crime a full grown man at that rate the boy was father of the man with a vengeance and one might hear next that the baby was father of the boy they would find common sense a more benevolent ruler than poetical metaphysics when he had done Austin with his customary directness asked him what he meant I confess Adrian said the Baron net hearing him expotulate with Austin's stupidity I for one a metal loss I have heard that this man Bakewell chooses voluntarily not to inculpate my son seldom have I heard anything that so gratified me it is a view of innate nobleness in the rustic character which many a gentleman might example from we are bound to do our utmost for the man and saying that he should pay a second visit to Belthorpe to inquire into the reasons for the farmer's sudden exposition of vindictiveness Sir Austin Rose before he left the room Algernon asked Richard if the farmer had vouchsafed any reasons and the boy then spoke of the tampering with the witnesses and the bantams not upon oath which caused Adrian to choke with laughter even the baronet smiled at so cunning a distinction as that involved in swearing a thing and not swearing it upon oath how little he exclaimed does one yeoman know another to elevate a distinction into a difference is the natural action of their minds I will point that out to blaze he shall see that the idea is native born Richard saw his father go forth Adrian to was ill at ease this trotting down to Belthorpe spoils all said he the affair would pass over tomorrow blaze has no witnesses the old rascal is only standing out for more money no he isn't Richard corrected him it's not that I'm sure he believes his witnesses have been tampered with as he calls it what if they have boy Adrian put it boldly the ground is cut from under his feet blaze told me that if my father would give his word there had been nothing of the sort he would take it my father will give his word then said Adrian you had better stop him from going down Austin looked at Adrian keenly and questioned him whether he thought the farmer was justified in his suspicions the wise youth was not to be entrapped he had only been given to understand that the witnesses were tolerably unstable and like the Bantam ready to swear lustily but not upon the book how given to understand he chose not to explain but he reiterated that the chief should not be allowed to go down to Belthorpe sir Austin was in the lane leading to the farm when he heard steps of someone running behind him it was dark and he shook off the hand that laid hold of his cloak roughly not recognizing his son it's I sir said Richard panting pardon me you mustn't go in there why not said the baronet putting his arm about him not now continued the boy I will tell you all tonight I must see the farmer myself it was my fault sir I I lied to him the liar must eat his lie oh forgive me for disgracing you sir I did it I hope I did it to save Tom Bakewell let me go in alone and speak the truth go and I will wait for you here said his father the wind that bowed the old elms and shivered the dead leaves in the air had a voice and a meaning for the baronet during that half hours lonely pacing up and down under the darkness awaiting his boy's return the solemn gladness of his heart gave nature a tongue through the desolation flying overhead the whaling of the mother of plenty across the bare swept land he caught intelligible signs of the beneficent order of the universe from a heart newly confirmed in its grasp of the principle of human goodness as manifested in the dear child who had just left him confirmed in its belief in the ultimate victory of good within us without which nature has neither music nor meaning and is rock stone tree and nothing more in the dark the dead leaves beating on his face he had a word for his notebook there is for the mind but one grasp of happiness from that uppermost pinnacle of wisdom once we see that this world is well-designed end of chapter 10 chapter 11 the ordeal of Richard Feverell this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Rita Butros the ordeal of Richard Feverell by George Meredith chapter 11 of all the chief actors in the Bakewell comedy master Ripton Thompson awaited the fearful morning which was to decide Tom's fate in dolefulist mood and suffered the gravest mental terrors Adrian on parting with him had taken casual occasion to speak of the position of the criminal in modern Europe assuring him that international treaty now did what Universal Empire had a four time done and that among Atlantic barbarians now as among the Scythians of old an offender would find precarious refuge and an emissary haunting him in the paternal home under the roofs of law and removed from the influence of his conscience less young chief the staggering nature of the act he had put his hand to its awful felonious aspect overwhelmed Ripton he saw it now for the first time why it's next to murder he cried out to his amazed soul and wondered about the house with a prickly skin thoughts of America and commencing life afresh as an innocent gentleman had crossed his disordered brain he wrote to his friend Richard proposing to collect disposable funds and embark in case of Tom's breaking his word or of accidental discovery he dared not confide the secret to his family as his leader had sternly enjoined him to avoid any weakness of that kind and being by nature honest and communicative the restriction was painful and melancholy fell upon the boy mama Thompson attributed it to love the daughters of parchment rallied him concerning Miss Claire Forrey his hourly letters to Rainham and silence as to everything and everybody there his nervousness and unwanted propensity to sudden inflammation of the cheeks were set down for sure signs of the passion Miss Latisha Thompson the pretty and least parchmenty one destined by her papa for the air of Rainham and perfectly aware of her brilliant future up to which she had since Ripton's departure dressed and grimaced and studied cadences the latter with such success though not yet fifteen that she languished to her maid and melted the small factotum footmen Miss Letty whose insatiable thirst for intimations about the young air Ripton could not satisfy tormented him daily in revenge and once quite unconsciously gave the lad a fearful turn for after dinner when Mr. Thompson read the paper by the fire preparatory to sleeping at his accustomed post and Mama Thompson and her submissive female brood sat tasking the swift intricacies of the needle and emulating them with the tongue Miss Letty stole behind Ripton's chair and introduced between him and his book the Latin initial letter large and illuminated of the theme she supposed to be absorbing him as it did herself the unexpected vision of this accusing captain of the alphabet this resplendent and haunting a fronting him bodily through Ripton's straight back in his chair while guilt with her ancient indecision what color to assume on detection flew from red to white from white to red across his fallen chaps Letty laughed triumphantly a more the word she had in mind certainly has a connection with arson but the delivery of a letter into master Ripton's hands furnished her with other and likelier appearances to study for scarce had Ripton plunged his head into the missive then he gave way to violent transports such as the healthy minded little damsel for all her languishing cadences deemed she really could express were a downright declaration to be made to her the boy did not stop at table quickly recollecting the presence of his family he rushed to his own room and now the girls ingenuity was taxed to gain possession of that letter she succeeded of course she being a huntress with few scruples and the game unguarded with the eyes of amazement she read this foreign matter dear Ripton if Tom had been committed I would have shot old blaze do you know my father was behind us that when Claire saw the ghost and heard all we said before the fire burst out it is no use trying to conceal anything from him well as you are in an awful state I will tell you all about it after you left Ripton I had a conversation with Austin and he persuaded me to go down to old blaze and ask him to help off Tom I went for I would have done anything for Tom after what he said to Austin and I defied the old Charles to do his worst then he said if my father paid the money and nobody had tampered with his witnesses he would not mind if Tom did get off and he had his chief witness in called the Bantam very like his master I think and the Bantam began winking at me tremendously as you say and said he had sworn he saw Tom Bakewell but not upon oath he meant not on the Bible he could swear to it but not on the Bible I burst out laughing and you should have seen the rage old blaze was in it was splendid fun then we had a consultation at home Austin radi my father Uncle Aljunan who has come down to us again and your friend in prosperity and adversity RDF my father said he would go down to old blaze and give him the word of a gentleman we had not tampered with his witnesses and when he was gone we were all talking and radi says he must not see the farmer I am a certain as I live that it was radi bribed the Bantam well I ran and caught up my father and told him not to go into old blaze but I would and eat my words and tell him the truth he waited for me in the lane never mind what passed between me and old blaze he made me beg and pray of him not to press it and then to complete it he brought in a little girl a niece of his and says to me she is your best friend after all and told me to thank her a little girl 12 years of age what business had she to mix herself up in my matters depend upon it Ripton wherever there is mischief there are girls I think she had the insolence to notice my face and ask me not to be unhappy I was delighted of course but I would not look at her well the morning came and Tom was had up before Sir Miles Papworth it was Sir Miles gout gave us the time or Tom would have been had up before we could do anything Adrian did not want me to go but my father said I should accompany him and held my hand all the time I shall be careful about getting into these scrapes again when you have done anything honorable do not mind but getting among policemen and magistrates makes you ashamed of yourself Sir Miles was very attentive to my father and me and dead against Tom we sat beside him and Tom was brought in Sir Miles told my father that if there was one thing that showed a low villain it was Rick Burning what do you think of that I looked him straight in the face and he said to me he was doing me a service in getting Tom committed clearing the country of such fellows and Rady began laughing I hate Rady my father said his son was not in haste to inherit and have estates of his own to watch and Sir Miles laughed too I thought we were discovered at first then they began the examination of Tom the tinker was the first witness and he proved that Tom had spoken against old blaze and said something about burning his Rick I wished I had stood in the lane to Bursley with him alone our country lawyer we engaged for Tom cross questioned him and then he said he was not ready to swear to the exact words that had passed between him and Tom I should think not then came another who swore he had seen Tom lurking about the farmers grounds that night then came the Bantam and I saw him look at Rady I was tremendously excited I kept pressing my hand just fancy my being brought to feel that a word from that fellow would make me miserable for life and he must perjure himself to help me that comes of giving way to passion my father says when we do that we are calling in the devil as doctor well the Bantam was told to state what he had seen and the moment he began Rady who was close by me began to shake and he was laughing I knew though his face was as grave as Sir Miles you never heard such a rigmarole but I could not laugh he said he thought he was certain he had seen somebody by the rick and it was Tom Bakewell who was the only man he knew who had a grudge against farmer blaze and if the object had been a little bigger he would not mind swearing to Tom and would swear to him for he was dead certain it was Tom only what he saw looked smaller and it was pitch dark at the time he was asked what time it was he saw the person steal away from the rick and then he began to scratch his head and said supper time then they asked what time he had supper and he said nine o'clock by the clock and we proved that at nine o'clock Tom was drinking in the ale house with the tinker at Bursley and Sir Miles swore and said he was afraid he could not commit Tom and when he heard that Tom looked up at me and I say he is a noble fellow and no one shall sneer at Tom while I live mind that well Sir Miles asked us to dine with him and Tom was safe and I am to have him and educate him if I like for my servant and I will and I will give money to his mother and make her rich and he shall never repent he knew me I say rip the Bantam must have seen me it was when I went to stick in the Lucifers as we were all going home from Sir Miles at night he had lots of red faced daughters but I did not dance with them though they had music and were full of fun and I did not care to I was so delighted and almost let it out when we left and rode home Rady said to my father the Bantam was not such a fool as he was thought and my father said one must be in a state of great personal exultation to apply that epithet to any man and Rady shut his mouth and I gave my pony a clap of the heel for joy I think my father suspects what Rady did and does not approve of it and he need not have done it after all and might have spoiled it I have been obliged to order him not to call me Ricky for he stops short at Rick so that everybody knows what he means my dear Austin is going to South America my pony is in capital condition my father is the cleverest and best man in the world Claire is a little better I am quite happy I hope we shall meet soon my dear old Rip and we will not get into any more tremendous scrapes will we I remain your sworn friend Richard Doria Feverell P.S. I am to have a nice river yacht goodbye Rip good bye old Rip poor little Laetitia after three peruzels of this ingenuous epistle where the laws of punctuation were so disregarded resided to one of the most important and the most important and the most important and most important and the most important and the most important and the most important resided to one of the pocks of her brother Ripten's best jacket deeply smitten with the careless composer and so ended the last act of the Bakewell comedy in which the curtain closes with sir Austin's pointing out to his friends the beneficial action in it from beginning to end End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 the ordeal of Richard Richard Feverell. Laying of Ghosts is a public duty, and as the mystery of the apparition that had frightened little Claire was never solved on the stage of events at Rainham, where dread walked the abbey. Let us go behind the scenes a moment, morally superstitious as the baronette was. The character of his mind was opposed to anything like spiritual agency in the affairs of men, and when the matter was made clear to him, it shook off a weight of weakness and restored his mental balance. So that from this time he went about more like the man he had once been, grasping more thoroughly the great truth that this world is well designed. Nay, he could laugh on hearing Adrian in reminiscence of the ill luck of one of the family members at its first manifestation, called the uneasy spirit, Algernon's leg. Mrs. Doria was outraged. She maintained that her child had seen it. Not to believe in it was almost to rob her of her personal property. After satisfactorily studying his old state of mind in her, Sir Austin, moved by pity, took her aside one day and showed her that her ghost could write words in the flesh. It was a letter from the unhappy lady who had given Richard Berth brief cold lines, simply telling him his house would be disturbed by her no more. Cold lines, but penned by what heartbroken abnegation, and underlying them with what anguish of soul. Like most who dealt with him, Lady Feverell thought her husband a man fatally stern and implacable, and she acted as silly creatures will act when they fancy they see a fate against them. She neither petitioned for her right nor claimed it. She tried to ease her heart's yearning by stealth, and now she renounced all. Mrs. Doria, not wanting in the family tenderness and softness, shuddered at him for accepting the sacrifice so composedly. But he bade her to think how distracting to this boy would be the sight of such relations between mother and father. A few years, and as man he should know and judge and love her. Let this be her penance, not inflicted by me. Mrs. Doria bowed to the system for another, not opining when it would be her turn to bow for herself. Further behind the scenes we observe Rizio and Mary, grown older, much disenchanted. She, discrowned, disheveled, he with gouty fingers on a greasy guitar. The diaper sandow of promise lends his pen for small hires. His fame has sunk, his bodily girth has sensibly increased. What he can do and will do is still his theme. Meanwhile, the juice of the juniper is in requisition, and it seems that those small hires cannot be performed without it. Returning from her wretched journey to her wretched home, the lady had to listen to a mild reproof from easygoing diaper, a reproof so mild that he couched it in blank verse, for seldom writing metrically now, he took to talking it. With a fluent, sympathetic tear, he explained to her that she was damaging her interest by these proceedings, nor did he shrink from undertaking to elucidate wherefore. Pluming a smile upon his succulent mouth, he told her that the poverty she lived in was utterly unbefitting her gentle nurture, and that he had reason to believe, could assure her, that an annuity was on the point of being granted her by her husband. And diaper broke his butt of a smile into full flower as he delivered this information. She learned that he had applied to her husband for money. It is hard to have one's prop of self-respect cut away, just when we are suffering a martyr's agony at the stake. There was a five-minutes tragic colloquy in the recesses behind the scenes, totally tragic to diaper, who had fondly hoped to bask in the warm sun of that annuity, and re-emerge from his state of grub. The lady then wrote the letter Sir Austin held open to his sister. The atmosphere behind the scenes is not wholesome, so, having laid the ghost, we will return and face the curtain. That infantismal dose of the world, which Master Ripton Thompson had furnished to the system with such instantaneous and surprising effect, was considered by Sir Austin to have worked well, and to be for the time quite sufficient, so that Ripton did not receive a second invitation to Raynam, and Richard had no special intimate of his own age to rub his excessive vitality against, and wanted none. His hands were full enough with Tom Bakewell. Moreover, his father and he were heart in heart. The boy's mind was opening, and turned to his father affectionately reverent. At this period, when the young savage grows into higher influences, the faculty of worship is foremost in him. At this period, Jesuits will stamp the future of their charging flocks, and all who bring up youth by a system, and watch it, know that it is the malleable moment. Boys possessing any mental or moral force to give them a tendency, then predestinate their careers, or, if under supervision, take the impress that is given them, not often to cast it off, and seldom to cast it off altogether. In Sir Austin's notebook was written, between simple boyhood and adolescence, the blossoming season, on the threshold of puberty, there is one unselfish hour, say, spiritual seed time. He took care that good seed should be planted in Richard, and that the most fruitful seed for a youth, namely, example, should be of a kind to germinate in him the love of every form of nobleness. I am only striving to make my son a Christian, he said, answering them who persisted in expatulating with the system. And to these instructions he gave an aim. First, be virtuous, he told his son, and then serve your country with heart and soul. The youth was instructed to cherish an ambition for statesmanship, and he and his father read history and the speeches of British orders to some purpose. For one day, Sir Austin found him leaning cross-legged, and with his hand to his chin, against a pedestal supporting the bust of Chatham, contemplating the hero of our parliament, his eyes streaming with tears. People said the baronet carried the principle of example so far that he only retained his boozing, disceptic brother Hippias at Rainham in order to exhibit to his son the woeful retribution nature reeked upon a life of indulgence. Poor Hippias having now become a walking complaint. This was unjust, but there is no doubt he made use of every illustration to disgust or encourage his son that his neighborhood afforded him, and did not spare his brother for whom Richard entertained a contempt in proportion to his admiration of his father, and was for flying into penitential extremes which Sir Austin had to soften. The boy prayed with his father morning and night. How is it, sir? he said one night. I can't get Tom Bakewell to pray. Does he refuse? Sir Austin asked. He seems to be ashamed too, Richard replied. He wants to know what is the good, and I don't know what to tell him. I'm afraid it has gone too far with him, said Sir Austin, and until he has had some deep sorrows he will not find the divine want of prayer. Strive, my son, when you represent the people to provide for their education. He feels everything now through a dull, impenetrable rind. Culture is halfway to heaven. Tell him, my son, should he ever be brought to ask how he may know the efficacy of prayer, and that his prayer will be answered. Tell him, he quoted the pilgrim's script. Who rises from prayer a better man, his prayer is answered. I will, sir, said Richard, and went to sleep happy. Happy in his father and in himself the youth now lived. Conscience was beginning to inhabit him, and he carried some of the freightage known to men, though in so crude a form that it overweighed him. Now on this side, now on that. The wise youth, Adrienne, observed these further progressionary developments in his pupil, soberly cynical. He was under Sir Austin's interdict, not to banter him, and eased his acrid humors inspired by the sight of a felonious young rickburner turning saint. By grave affectations of sympathy, and extreme accuracy in marking the not widely distant dates of his various changes. The bread and water phase lasted a fortnight. The vegetarian, an imitation of his cousin Austin, little better than a month. The religious, somewhat longer, the religious propagandist, when he was for converting the heathen of Loburn and Burnley, and the domestics of the abbey, including Tom Bakewell, longer still, and hard to bear. He tried to convert Adrienne. All the while, Tom was being exercised like a raw recruit. Richard had a drill sergeant from the nearest barracks down for him, to give him a proper pride in himself, and marched him to and fro with immense satisfaction. And nearly broke his heart, trying to get the round-shouldered rustic to take in the rudiments of letters, for the boy had unbounded hopes for Tom as a hero in grain. His pride also was cast aside. He affected to be, and really thought he was, humble. Whereupon Adrienne, as by accident, imparted to him the fact that men were animals, and he an animal with the rest of them. I, an animal, cries Richard in scorn, and for weeks he was as troubled by this rudiment of self-knowledge as Tom by his letters. Sir Austin had him instructed, in the wonders of anatomy, to restore his self-respect. Seed-time passed thus smoothly, and adolescence came on, and his cousin Claire felt what it was to be of an opposite sex to him. She too was growing, but nobody cared how she grew. Outwardly, even her mother seemed absorbed in the sprouting of the green offshoot of the feverell tree, and Claire was his handmaiden little marked by him. Lady Blandish honestly loved the boy. She would tell him, if I had been a girl, I would have had you for my husband. And he, with the frankness of his ears would reply, and how do you know I would have had you? Causing her to laugh, and call him a silly boy, for had he not heard her say, she would have had him. Little words he knew not then the meaning of. You don't read your father's book, she said. Her own copy was bound in purple velvet, gilt-edged as decorative ladies like to have holier books, and she carried it about with her, and quoted it, and, Adrienne remarked to Mrs. Doria, hunted a noble quarry, and deliberately aimed at him therewith, which Mrs. Doria chose to believe, and regretted her brother would not be on his guard. See here, said Lady Blandish, pressing an almondy fingernail to one of the aphorisms, which instanced how age and adversity must clay, and close us ere we can effectually resist the magnetism of any human creature in our path. Can you understand it, child? Richard informed her that when she read he could. Well then, my squire, she touched his cheek, and ran her fingers through his hair. Learn as quick as you can not to be all hither and yawn with a hundred different attractions, as I was before I met a wise man to guide me. Is my father very wise, Richard asked? I think so, the lady emphasized her individual judgment.  Do I what, she calmly queried. I was going to say, do you, I mean, I love him so much. Lady Blandish smiled, and slightly colored. They frequently approached this theme, and always retreated from it, always with the same beating of heart to Richard, accompanied by the sense of a growing mystery which, however, did not as yet generally disturb him. Life was made very pleasant to him at Rainham, as it was part of Sir Austin's principle of education that his boy should be thoroughly joyous and happy. And whenever Adrian sent in a satisfactory report of his pupil's advancement, which he did pretty liberally, diversions were planned just as prizes are given to diligent schoolboys, and Richard was supposed to have all his desires gratified while he attended to his studies. The system flourished, tall, strong, bloomingly healthy. He took the lead of his companions on land and water, and had more than one bondsman in his service besides Ripton Thompson, the boy without a destiny. Perhaps the boy with a destiny was growing up a trifle too conscious of it, his generosity to his occasional companions was princely, but was exercised something too much in the manner of a prince, and, notwithstanding his contempt for baseness, he would overlook that more easily than an offense to his pride, which demanded an utter servility when it had once been rendered susceptible. If Richard had his followers, he had also his feuds. The paparths were as subservient as Ripton, but young Ralph Morton, the nephew of Mr. Morton, and a match for Richard in numerous promising qualities, comprising the noble science of fisticuffs, this youth spoke his mind too openly, and, moreover, would not be snubbed. There was no middle course for Richard's comrades between high friendship or absolute slavery. He was deficient in those cosmopolite habits and feelings which enable boys and men to hold together without caring much for each other, and, like every insulated mortal, he attributed the deficiency of which he was quite aware to the fact of his possessing a superior nature. Young Ralph was a lively talker, therefore argued Richard's vanity he had no intellect. He was affable, therefore he was frivolous. The women liked him, therefore he was a butterfly. In fine, young Ralph was popular. And our superb Prince denied the privilege of despising, ended by detesting him. Early in the days of their contention for leadership, Richard saw the absurdity of affecting to scorn his rival. Ralph was an eaten boy, and hence, being robust, a swimmer and a cricketer. A swimmer and a cricketer is nowhere to be scorned in youth's republic. Finding that maneuver would not do, Richard was prompted once or twice to entrench himself behind his greater wealth and his position, but he soon abandoned that also partly because his chilliness to ridicule told him he was exposing himself, and chiefly that his heart was too chivalrous. And so he was dragged into the lists by Ralph and experienced the luck of champions. For cricket and for diving Ralph bore away the belt, Richard's middle stump tottered before his ball, and he could seldom pick up more than three eggs underwater to Ralph's half dozen. He was beaten too in jumping and running. Why will silly mortals strive to the painful pinnacles of championship? Or why, once having reached them, not have the magnanimity and circumspection to retire into private life immediately? Stung by his defeats, Richard sent one of his dependent paparths to Pier Hall with a challenge to Ralph Barthup Morton, matching himself to swim across the Thames and back. Once trice or thrice, within a less time than he, Ralph Barthup Morton would require for the undertaking. It was accepted, and a reply returned equally formal in the trumpeting of Christian names wherein Ralph Barthup Morton acknowledged the challenge of Richard Doria Feverell and was his man. The match came off on a mid-summer morning under the direction of Captain Algernon. Sir Austin was a spectator from the cover of a plantation by the riverside unknown to his son, and to the scandal of her sex Lady Blandish accompanied the baronet. He had invited her attendants and she obeying her frank nature and, knowing what the pilgrim script said about prudes, at once agreed to view the match pleasing him mightily. For was not here a woman worthy the golden ages of the world, one who could look upon man as a creature divinely made, and look with a mind neither tempted nor taunted by the serpent. Such a woman was rare. Sir Austin did not discompose her by uttering his praises. She was conscious of his approval only in an increased gentleness of manner and something in his voice and communications as if he was speaking to a familiar, a very high compliment from him. While the lads were standing ready for the signal to plunge from the steep decline of Green's word into the shining waters, Sir Austin called upon her to admire their beauty, and she did, and even advanced her head above his shoulder delicately. In so doing and just as the start was given, a bonnet became visible to Richard. Young Ralph was heels in air before he moved, and then he dropped like lead. He was beaten by several lengths. The result of the match was unaccountable to all present, and Richard's friends unanimously pressed him to plead a false start. But, though the youth with full confidence in his better style and equal strength had backed himself heavily against his rival, and had lost his little river yacht to Ralph, he would do nothing of the sort. It was the bonnet had beaten him, not Ralph. The bonnet, typical of the mystery that caused his heart, those violent palpitations, was his dear, detestable enemy. And now, as he progressed from mood to mood, his ambition turned towards a field where Ralph could not rival him, and where the bonnet was etherealized and reigned glorious mistress. A cheek to the pride of a boy will frequently divert him to the path where lie his subtlest powers. Richard gave up his companions, servile or antagonistic. He relinquished the material world to young Ralph, and retired into himself, where he was growing to be Lord of Kingdoms, where beauty was his handmaid, and history his minister and time his ancient harper, and sweet romance his bride, where he walked in a realm vaster and more gorgeous than the great Orient, peopled with the heroes that have been. Where there is no princely wealth, and no loftiest heritage, to equal this early one that is made bountifully common to so many. When the ripening blood has put a spark to the imagination, and the earth is seen through rosy mists of a thousand fresh awakened nameless and aimless desires, panting for bliss and taking it as it comes, making of any sight or sound per force of the enchantment they carry with them. A key to infinite because innocent pleasure. The passions then are gambling cubs, not the ravaging gluttons they grow to. They have their teeth and their talons, but they neither tear nor bite. They are in council and fellowship with the quickened heart and brain. The whole sweet system moves to music. Something akin to the indications of a change in the spirit of his son, which we're now seeing, Sir Austin had marked down to be expected as due to his plan. The blushes of the youth, his long vigils, his clinging to solitude, his abstraction, and downcast but not melancholy air were matters for rejoicing to the prescient gentleman. For it comes, said he to Dr. Clifford of Lowburn, after consulting him medically on the youth's behalf and being assured of his soundness. It comes of a thoroughly sane condition. The blood is healthy, the mind virtuous, neither instigates the other to evil, and both are perfecting toward the flower of manhood. If he reached that pure, in the untainted fullness and perfection of his natural powers, I am indeed a happy father. But one thing he will owe to me, that at one period of his life he knew paradise and could read God's handwriting on the earth.  But my boy and the baronet dropped his voice to a key that was touching to here. My boy, if he fall, will fall from an actual region of purity. He dare not be as skeptic as to that. Whatever his darkness, he will have the guiding light of a memory behind him. So much is secure. To talk nonsense or poetry, or the dash between the two, in a tone of profound sincerity, and to enunciate solemn discordances with received opinions so seriously as to convey the impression of a spiritual insight is the peculiar gift by which monomaniacs, having first persuaded themselves, contrived to influence their neighbors, and threw them to make conquest of a good half of the world, for good or for ill. Sir Austin had this gift. He spoke as if he saw the truth, and persisting in it so long, he was accredited by those who did not understand him, and silenced them that did. We shall see was all the argument left to Dr. Clifford and other unbelievers. So far certainly the experiment had succeeded. A comelier bracer, better boy, was nowhere to be met. His promise was undeniable. The vessel, too, though it lay now in harbour, and had not yet been proved by the buffets of the elements on the great ocean, had made a good trial trip, and got well through stormy weather, as the records of the Bakewell comedy witnessed to at Rainham. No augury could be hopefuler. The fates must indeed be hard, the ordeal severe, the destiny dark, that could destroy so bright a spring. But bright as it was, the baronet relaxed nothing of his vigilant supervision. He said to his intimates, every act, every fostered inclination, almost every thought in this blossoming season, bears its seed for the future. The living tree now requires incessant watchfulness. And acting up to his light, Sir Austin did watch. The youth submitted to an examination every night before he sought his bed, professedly to give an account of his studies, but really to recapitulate his moral experiences of the day. He could do so, for he was pure. Any wildness in him that his father noted, any remoteness or richness of fancy in his expressions, was set down as incidental to the blossoming season. There is nothing like a theory for binding the wise. Sir Austin, despite his rigid watch and ward, knew less of his son than the servant of his household, and he was deaf as well as blind. Adrian thought at his duty to tell him that the youth was consuming paper. Lady Blandish likewise hinted at his moaning propensities. Sir Austin, from his lofty watchtower of the system, had foreseen it, he said. But when he came to hear that the youth was writing poetry, his wounded heart had its reasons for being much disturbed. Surely, said Lady Blandish, you knew he scribbled. A very different thing from writing poetry, said the baronet. No feverell has ever written poetry. I don't think it's a sign of degeneracy, the lady remarked. He rhymes very prettily to me. A London phrenologist and a friendly Oxford professor of poetry quieted Sir Austin's fears. The phrenologist said he was totally deficient in the imitative faculty and the professor that he was equally so in the rhythmic, and instanced several consoling false quantities in the few effusions submitted to him. Added to this, Sir Austin told Lady Blandish that Richard had, at his best, done what no poet had ever been known to be capable of doing. He had, with his own hands and in cold blood, committed his virgin manuscript to the flames, which made Lady Blandish sigh forth, poor boy.  A strange man had been introduced to him, who traversed and bisected his skull with sagacious stiff fingers and crushed his soul while, in an infallible voice, declaring him the animal, he was making him feel such an animal. Not only his blossoms withered, his being seemed to draw in its shoots and twigs, and when, coupled there unto the strange man having departed his work done, his father, in his tenderest manner, stated that it would give him pleasure to see those same precocious, utterly valueless scribblings among the cinders, the last remaining mental blossoms spontaneously fell away. Richard's spirit stood bare. He protested not. Enough that it could be wished. He would not delay a minute in doing it. Desiring his father to follow him, he went to a drawer in his room, and from a clean linen recess, never suspected by Sir Austin, the secretive youth drew out, bundle after bundle, each neatly tied, named, and numbered, and pitched them into flames. And so farewell my young ambition, and with it farewell all true confidence between father and son. CHAPTER XIII It was now, as Sir Austin had written it down, the magnetic age, the age of violent attractions, when to hear mention of love is dangerous, and to see it a communication of the disease. People at Rainham were put on their guard by the baronet, and his reputation for wisdom was severely criticized. In consequence of the injunctions he thought fit to issue, through butler and housekeeper down to the lower household, for the preservation of his son from any visible symptom of the passion. A footman and two housemates are believed to have been dismissed on the report of Hevy Benson that they were in or inclining to the state, upon which an undercook and a dairymaid voluntarily threw up their places, avering that they did not want no young men, but to have their sex spied after by an old wretch like that, indicating the ponderous butler. Was a little too much for a Christian woman, and then they were ungenerous enough to glance at Benson's well-known marital calamity, hinting that some men met their desserts. So intolerable did Hevy Benson's espionage become, that Rainham would have grown depopulated of its womankind, had not Adrien interfered, who pointed out to the baronet what a fearful arm his butler was wielding. Sir Austin acknowledged it despondently. It only shows, said he, with a fine spirit of justice, how all but impossible it is to legislate where there are women. I do not object, he added, I hope I am too just to object to the exercise of their natural inclinations. All I ask from them is discreteness. I, said Adrien, whose discreteness was a marvel. No gating about in couples continued the baronet, no kissing in public. Such occurrences no boy should witness. Whenever people of both sexes are thrown together, they will be silly, and where they are high-fed, uneducated and barely occupied, it must be looked for as a matter of course. Let it be known that I only require discreteness. Discreteness, therefore, was instructed to rain at the abbey. Under Adrien's able tuition the fairest of its domestics acquired that virtue. Discreteness, too, was enjoined to the upper household. Sir Austin, who had not previously appeared to notice the case of Loburn's hopeless curate, now desired Mrs. Doria to interdict, or at least discourage his visits, for the appearance of the man was that of an embodied sigh and groan. Really, Austin, said Mrs. Doria, astonished to find her brother more awake than she had supposed, I have never allowed him to hope. Let him see it, then, replied the baronet, let him see it. The man amuses me, said Mrs. Doria. You know, we have few amusements here, we inferior creatures. I confess I should like a barrel organ better. That reminds one of town and the opera, and, besides, it plays more than one tune. However, since you think my society bad for him, let him stop away. With the self-devotion of a woman, she grew patient and sweet the moment her daughter Clare was spoken of, and the business of her life in view. Mrs. Doria's maternal heart had betrothed the two cousins, Richard and Clare, had already beheld them espoused and fruitful. For this she yielded the pleasures of town. For this she amured herself at Rainham. For this she bore with a thousand follies, exactions, inconveniences, things abhorrent to her, and heaven knows what forms of torture and self-denial, which are smilingly endured by that greatest of voluntary martyrs, a mother with a daughter to marry. Mrs. Doria, an amiable widow, had surely married but for her daughter Clare. The lady's hair no woman could possess without feeling at her pride. It was the daily theme of her lady's maid, a natural oriole to her head. She was gay, witty, still physically youthful enough to claim a destiny, and she sacrificed it to accomplish her daughters, sacrificed as with heroic scissors, hair, wit, gaiety. Let us not attempt to enumerate how much, more than may be said. And she was only one of thousands, thousands who have no portion of the hero's reward. For he may reckon on applause, and condolence, and sympathy, and honor. They, poor slaves, must look for nothing but the opposition of their own sex and the sneers of ours. Oh, Sir Austin, had you not been so blinded, what an aphorism might have sprung from this point of observation. Mrs. Doria was coolly told between sister and brother that during the magnetic age her daughter's presence at Raynam was undesirable. Instead of nursing offence, her soul thought was the mountain of prejudice she had to contend against. She bowed and said, Clare wanted sea air. She had never quite recovered the shock of that dreadful night. How long, Mrs. Doria wished to know, might the peculiar period be expected to last? That, said Sir Austin, depends. A year perhaps? He is entering on it. I shall be most grieved to lose you, Helen. Clare is now, how old? Seventeen. She is marriageable. Marriageable, Austin, at seventeen. Don't name such a thing. My child shall not be robbed of her youth. Our women marry early, Helen. My child shall not. The baronet reflected a moment. He did not wish to lose his sister. As you are of that opinion, Helen, said he, perhaps we may still make arrangements to retain you with us. Would you think it advisable to send Clare, she should know discipline, to some establishment, for a few months? To an asylum, Austin, cried Mrs. Doria, controlling her indignation as well as she could. To some select superior seminary, Helen, there are such to be found.  Unjust, absurd, she murmured. The baronet thought it a natural proposition that Clare should be a bride or a schoolgirl. I cannot leave my child, Mrs. Doria trembled. Where she goes, I go. I am aware that she is only one of our sex and therefore of no value to the world, but she is my child. I will see, poor dear, that you have no cause to complain of her. I thought, Sir Austin remarked, that you acquiesced in my views with regard to my son. Yes, generally, said Mrs. Doria, and felt culpable that she had not before and could not then tell her brother that he had set up an idol in his house, an idol of flesh, more retributive and abominable than wood or brass or gold. But she had bowed to the idol too long. She had too entirely bound herself to gain her project by subserviency. She had, and she dimly perceived it, committed a greater fault in tactics in teaching her daughter to bow to the idol also. Love of that kind Richard took for tribute. He was indifferent to Claire's soft eyes. The parting kiss he gave her was ready and cold as his father could desire. Sir Austin now grew eloquent to him in laudation of manly pursuits. But Richard thought his eloquence barren, his attempts at companionship awkward, and all manly pursuits and aims, life itself, vain and worthless. To what end sighed the blossomless youth and cried aloud as soon as he was relieved of his father's society? What was the good of anything? Whatever he did, whichever path he selected, led back to reynum. And whatever he did, however wretched and wayward he showed himself, only confirmed Sir Austin more and more in the truth of his provisions. Tom Bakewell, now the youth's groom, had to give the baronet a report of his young master's proceedings in common with Adrian. And while there was no harm to tell, Tom spoke out. He do ride like fire every day to pigs snout, naming the highest hill in the neighborhood, and stand there and stare, never move in like a madden, and then home again all slack as if he'd been beaten in a race by somebody. There is no woman in that, mused the baronet. He would have ridden back as hard as he went, reflected this profound scientific humanist. Had there been a woman in it? He would shun vast expenses and seek shade, concealment, solitude, the desire for distances, betokens, emptiness, and undirected hunger, when the heart is possessed by an image we fly to wood and forest like the guilty. Adrian's report accused his pupil of an extraordinary access of cynicism. Exactly, said the baronet, as I foresaw, at this period an insatiate appetite is accompanied by a fastidious pallet. Nothing but the quintessences of existence and those in exhaustless supplies will satisfy this craving, which is not to be satisfied, hence his bitterness. Life can furnish no food fitting for him. The strength and purity of his energies have reached to an almost divine height, and roam through the inane. Poetry, love, and such like are the drugs Earth has to offer to high natures, as she offers to low ones debauchery. Tis a sign, this sourness, that he is subject to none of the empiricisms that are afloat. Now, to keep him clear of them. The Titans had an easier task in storming Olympus. As yet, however, it could not be said that Sir Austin's system had failed. On the contrary, it had reared a youth, handsome, intelligent, well-bred, and observed the ladies with acute emphasis innocent, where, they asked, was such another young man to be found. Oh, said Lady Blandish to Sir Austin, if men could give their hands to women unsoiled, how different would many a marriage be? She will be a happy girl who calls Richard husband. Happy indeed was the baronet's caustic ejaculation, but where shall I meet one equal to him and his match? I was innocent when I was a girl, said the lady. Sir Austin bowed a reserved opinion. Do you think no girls innocent? Sir Austin gallantly thought them also. No, that you know they are not, said the ladies, stamping, but they are more innocent than boys, I am sure.  Perhaps when my system is published, or rather, to speak more humbly, when it is practiced, the balance may be restored, and we shall have virtuous young men. It's too late for poor me to hope for a husband from one of them, said the lady, pouting and laughing. It is never too late for beauty to wake in love, return the baronet, and they trifled a little. They were approaching Daphne's Bower, which they entered, and sat there to taste the coolness of a descending midsummer day. The baronet seemed in a humor for dignified fooling, the lady, for serious converse. I shall believe again, in author's nights, she said, when I was a girl I dreamed of one, and he was in quest of the sangria, if you like, and showed his good taste by turning aside for the more tangible sand blandish. Of course you consider it would have been so, said the lady, ruffling. I can only judge by our generation, said Sir Austin, with a bend of homage. The lady gathered her mouth, either we are very mighty, or you are very weak. Both, madam, but whatever we are, and if we are bad, bad, we love virtue and truth, and lofty souls in men, and when we meet those qualities in them, we are constant, and would die for them, die for them. You know men, but not women. The night possessing such distinctions must be young, I presume, said Sir Austin. Old or young? But if old, they are scarce capable of enterprise. They are loved for themselves, not for their deeds. Ah. Yes, ah, said the lady, intellect may subdue women, make slaves of them, and they worship beauty perhaps as much as you do, but they only love forever and are mated when they meet a noble nature. Sir Austin looked at her wistfully, and did you encounter the night of your dream? Not then. She lowered her eyelids. It was prettily done. And how did you bear the disappointment? My dream was in the nursery. The day my frock was lengthened to a gown, I stood at the altar. I am not the only girl that has been made a woman in a day, and given to an ogre instead of a true night. Good God! exclaimed Sir Austin, women have much to bear. The couple changed characters.  You know it is our lot, she said. And we are allowed many amusements. If we fulfill our duty in producing children, that, like our virtue, is its own reward. Then, as a widow, I have wonderful privileges to preserve which you remain a widow. Certainly, she responded, I have no trouble now in patching and piecing that rag the world calls a character. I consider your feet every day unquestioned. To be sure, others do the same, but they are female eccentrics and have cast off the rag altogether. Sir Austin drew nearer to her. You would have made an admirable mother, madam. This from Sir Austin was very like positive wooing. It is, he continued, 10,000 pitties that you are not one. Do you think so? She spoke with humility. I would, he went on, that heaven had given you a daughter. Would you have thought her worthy of Richard? Our blood, madam, should have been one. The lady tapped her toe with her parasol. But I am a mother, she said. Richard is my son. Yes, Richard is my boy, she reiterated. Sir Austin most graciously appended. Call him hours, madam, and held his head as if to catch the word from her lips, which, however, she chose to refuse or defer. They made the colored west a common point for their eyes. And then, Sir Austin said, as you will not say hours, let me. And as you have, therefore, an equal claim on the boy, I will confide to you a project I have lately conceived. The announcement of a project hardly savored of a coming proposal. But for Sir Austin to confide one to a woman was almost tantamount to a declaration. So Lady Blandish thought, and so said her soft, deep-eyed smile as she perused the ground while listening to the project. It concerned Richard's nuptials. He was now nearly 18. He was to marry when he was five and 20. Meantime, a young lady some years his junior was to be sought for in the homes of England, who would be every way fitted by education, instincts, and blood, on each of which qualifications Sir Austin unreservedly enlarged to espouse so perfect a youth and accept the honorable duty of assisting in the perpetuation of the feverals. The baronet went on to say that he proposed to set forth immediately and devote a couple of months to the first essay in his Coelibite search. I fear, said Lady Blandish, when the project had been fully unfolded, you have laid down for yourself a difficult task. You must not be too exacting. I know it. The baronet's shake of the head was piteous. Even in England she will be rare, but I can find myself to no class if I ask for blood it is for untainted, not what you call high blood. I believe many of the middle classes are frequently more careful, more pure-blooded than our aristocracy. Show me among them a God-fearing family who educate their children. I should prefer a girl without brothers and sisters as a Christian damsel should be educated, say, on the model of my son and she may be penniless, I will pledge her to Richard Feverell. Lady Blandish bit her lip, and what do you do with Richard while you are absent on this expedition? Oh, said the baronet, he accompanies his father. Then give it up, his future bride is now pinniford and bread and buttery. She romps, she cries, she dreams of play and pudding. How can he care for her? He thinks more at his age of old women like me. He will be certain to kick against her and destroy your plan, believe me, Sir Austin. I, I, do you think that, said the baronet. Lady Blandish gave him a multitude of reasons. I, true, he muttered, Adrian said the same. He must not see her. How could I think of it?  He would despise her, naturally. Naturally, echoed the lady. Then, madam, and the baronet rose, there is one thing for me to determine upon. I must, for the first time in his life, leave him. Well, you indeed, said the lady. It is my duty, having thus brought him up, to see that he is properly mated, not wrecked upon the quicksands of marriage as a youth so delicately trained might be, more easily than another. Betrothed, he will be safe from a thousand snares. I may, I think, leave him for a term. My precautions have saved him from the temptations of his season. And under whose charge will you leave him, Lady Blandish inquired. She had emerged from the temple and stood beside Sir Austin on the upper steps under a clear summer twilight. Madam, he took her hand, and his voice was gallant and tender, under whose but yours. As the baronet said this, he bent above her hand and raised it to his lips. Lady Blandish felt that she had been wooed and asked in wedlock. She did not withdraw her hand. The baronet's salute was flatteringly reverent. He deliberated over it as one going through a grave ceremony. And he, the scornor of women, had chosen her for his homage. Lady Blandish forgot that she had taken some trouble to arrive at it. She received the exquisite compliment in all its unique honey-sweet. For in love we must deserve nothing, or the fine bloom of fruition is gone. The lady's hand was still endurance, and the baronet had not recovered from his profound inclination when a noise from the neighboring beachwood startled the two actors in this courtly pantomime. They turned their heads and beheld the hope of Rainim on horseback surveying the scene. The next moment he had galloped away. End of Chapter 13.