Chapter 19: The Drive Back to Hammersmith
I said nothing, for
I was not inclined for mere politeness to him after such very serious
talk; but in fact I should like to have gone on talking with the older
man, who could understand something at least of my wonted ways of looking
at life, whereas, with the younger people, in spite of their kindness, I
really was a being from another planet. However, I made the best of
it, and smiled as amiably as I could on the young couple; and Dick
returned the smile by saying, "well, guest, I am glad to have you again,
and to find that you and my kinsman have not quite talked yourselves into
another world; I was half suspecting as I was listening to the Welshmen
yonder
[Page 158]
that you would presently be
vanishing away from us, and began to picture my kinsman sitting in the
hall staring at nothing and finding that he had been talking a while past
to nobody."
I felt rather uncomfortable at
this speech, for suddenly the picture of the sordid squabble, the dirty
and miserable tragedy of the life I had left for a while, came before my
eyes; and I had, as it were, a vision of all my longings for rest and
peace in the past, and I loathed the idea of going back to it again.
But the old man chuckled and said:
"Don't be
afraid, Dick. In any case, I have not been talking to thin air; nor,
indeed to this new friend of ours only. Who knows but I may not have been
talking to many people? For perhaps our guest may some day go back to the
people he has come from, and may take a message from us which may bear
fruit for them, and consequently for us."
Dick looked puzzled, and said: "Well, gaffer, I do
not quite understand what you mean. All I can say is, that I hope he will
not leave us: for don't you see, he is another kind of man to what we
are used to, and somehow he makes us think of all kind of things; and
already I feel as if I could understand Dickens the better for having
talked with him."
"Yes," said Clara, and I
think in a few months we shall make him look younger; and I should like
to see what he was like with the wrinkles smoothed out of his face. Don't
you think he will look younger after a little time with us?"
The old man shook his head, and looked earnestly
at me, but did not answer her, and for a moment or two we were all
silent. Then Clara broke out:
"Kinsman, I
don't like this: something or another troubles me, and I feel as if
something untoward were going to happen. You have been talking of past
[Page 159]
miseries to the guest, and have been living
in past unhappy times, and it is in the air all round us, and makes us
feel as if we were longing for something we cannot have."
The old man smiled on her kindly, and said: "Well,
my child, if that be so, go and live in the present, and you will soon
shake it off." Then he turned to me, and said: "Do you remember anything
like that, guest, in the country from which you come?"
The lovers had turned aside now, and were talking
together softly, and not heeding us; so I said, but in a low voice:
"Yes, when I was a happy child on a sunny holiday, and had everything
that I could think of."
"So it is," said he.
You remember just now you twitted me with living in the second childhood
of the world. You will find it a happy world to live in; you will be
happy there -- for a while."
Again I did not
like his scarcely veiled threat, and was beginning to trouble myself with
trying to remember how I had got amongst this curious people, when the
old man called out in a cheery voice: "Now, my children, take your guest
away, and make much of him; for it is your business to make him sleek of
skin and peaceful of mind: he has by no means been as lucky as you have.
Farewell, guest!" and he grasped my hand warmly.
"Good-bye," said I, and thank you very much for
all that you have told me. I will come and see you as soon as I come
back from London. May I?"
"Yes," he said, come
by all means -- if you can.
"It won't be for
some time yet," quoth Dick, in his
cheery voice; "for when the hay is in up the river, I shall be for
taking him a round through the country between hay and wheat harvest, to
see how our friends live in the north country. Then in the wheat harvest
we shall do a good stroke of work, I
[Page 160]
should
hope, -- in Wiltshire by preference; for he will be getting a little hard
with all the open-air living, and I shall be tough as nails."
"But you will take me along, won't you, Dick?"
said Clara, laying her pretty hand on his shoulder.
"Will I not?" said Dick, somewhat boisterously,
And we will manage to send you to bed pretty tired every night; and you
will look so beautiful with your neck all brown, and your hands too, and
you under your gown as white as privet, that you will get some of those
strange discontented whims out of your head, my dear. However, our week's
haymaking will do all that for you."
The girl
reddened very prettily, and not for shame but for pleasure; and the old
man laughed, and said:
"Guest, I see that you
will be as comfortable as need be; for you need not fear that those two
will be too officious with you: they will be so busy with each other,
that they will leave you a good deal to yourself, I am sure, and that is
a real kindness to a guest, after all. O, you need not be afraid of being
one too many either: it is just what these birds in a nest like, to have
a good convenient friend to turn to, so that they may relieve the
ecstasies of love with the solid commonplace of friendship. Besides,
Dick, and much more Clara, likes a little talking at times; and you know
lovers do not talk unless they get into trouble, they only prattle.
Good-bye guest; may you be happy!"
Clara went
up to old Hammond, threw her arms about his neck and kissed him heartily,
and said: "You are a dear old man, and may have your jest about me as
much as you please; and it won't be long before we see you again; and you
may be sure we shall make our guest happy; though, mind you, there is
some truth in what you say."
[Page 161]
Then I shook hands again, and we went out of the
hall and into the cloisters, and so in the street found Greylocks in the
shafts waiting for us. He was well looked after; for a little lad of
about seven years old had his hand on the rein and was solemnly looking
up into his face; on his back, withal, was a girl of fourteen, holding a
three-year-old sister on before her; while another girl, about a year
older than the boy hung on behind. The three were occupied partly with
eating cherries, partly with patting and punching Greylocks, who took all
their caresses in good part, but pricked up his ears when Dick made his
appearance. The girls got off quietly, and going up to Clara, made much
of her and snuggled up to her. And then we got into the carriage, Dick
shook the reins, and we got under way at once, Greylocks trotting soberly
between the lovely trees of the London streets, that were sending floods
of fragrance into the cool evening air; for it was now getting toward
sunset.
We could hardly go but fair and softly
all the way, as there were a great many people abroad in that cool hour.
Seeing so many people made me notice their looks the more; and I must say
my taste cultivated in the sombre greyness, or rather brownness, of the
nineteenth century, was rather apt to condemn the gaiety and brightness
of the raiment; and I even ventured to say as much to Clara. She seemed
rather surprised, and even slightly indignant, and said: "Well, well,
what's the matter? They are not about any dirty work; they are only
amusing themselves in the fine evening; there is nothing to foul their
clothes. Come, doesn't it all look very pretty? It isn't gaudy, you
know."
Indeed that was true;
for many of the people were clad in colours that were sober enough,
though beautiful,
[Page 162]
and the harmony of the
colours was perfect and most delightful.
I
said, "Yes, that is so; but how can everybody afford such costly
garments? Look! there goes a middle-aged man in a sober grey dress; but I
can see from here that it is made of very fine woollen stuff, and is
covered with silk embroidery."
Said Clara: "He
could wear shabby clothes if he pleased, -- that is, if he didn't think
he would hurt people's feelings by doing so."
"But please tell me," said i, how can they afford
it?
As soon as I had spoken I perceived that I
had got back to my old blunder; for I saw Dick's shoulders shaking with
laughter; but he wouldn't say a word, but handed me over to the tender
mercies of Clara, who said:
"Why, I don't
know what you mean. Of course we can afford it, or else we shouldn't do
it. It would be easy enough for us to say, we will only spend our labour
on making our clothes comfortable: but we don't choose to stop there. Why
do you find fault with us? Does it seem to you as if we starved ourselves
of food in order to make ourselves fine clothes? or do you think there
is anything wrong in liking to see the coverings of our bodies beautiful
like our bodies are? -- just as a deer's or an otter's skin has been made
beautiful from the first? Come, what is wrong with you?"
I bowed before the storm, and mumbled out some
excuse or other. I must say, I might have known that people who were so
fond of architecture generally, would not be backward in ornamenting
themselves; all the more as the shape of their raiment, apart from its
colour was both beautiful and reasonable -- veiling the form, without
either muffling or caricaturing it.
[Page 163]
Clara was soon mollified; and as we drove along
toward the wood before mentioned, she said to Dick:
"I tell you what, Dick: now that our kinsman
Hammond the Elder has seen our guest in his queer clothes, I think we
ought to find him something decent to put on for our journey to-morrow:
especially since, if we do not, we shall have to answer all sorts of
questions as to his clothes and where they came from. Besides," she said
slyly, "when he is clad in handsome garments he will not be so quick to
blame us for our childishness in wasting our time in making ourselves
look pleasant to each other."
"All right,
Clara," said Dick; he shall have everything that you -- that he wants to
have. I will look something out for him before he gets up tomorrow."
Chapter 20: The Hammersmith Guest-House Again
Amidst such
talk, driving quietly through the balmy evening, we came to Hammersmith,
and were well received by our friends there. Boffin, in a fresh suit of
clothes, welcomed me back with stately courtesy; the weaver wanted to
button-hole me and get out of me what old Hammond had said, but was very
friendly and cheerful when Dick warned him off; Annie shook hands with
me, and hoped I had had a pleasant day -- so kindly, that I felt a slight
pang as our hands parted; for to say the truth, I liked her better than
Clara, who seemed to be always a little on the defensive, whereas Annie
was as frank as could be, and seemed to get honest pleasure from
everything and everybody about her without the least effort.
[Page
164]
We had quite a little feast
that evening, partly in my honour, and partly, I suspect, though nothing
was said about it, in honour of Dick and Clara coming together again. The
wine was of the best; the hall was redolent of rich summer flowers; and
after supper we not
only had music (Annie, to my mind, surpassing all the others for
sweetness and clearness of voice, as well as for feeling and meaning),
but at last we even got to telling stories, and sat there listening with
no other light but that of the summer moon streaming through the
beautiful traceries of the windows, as if we had belonged to time long
passed, when books were scarce and the art of reading somewhat rare.
Indeed, I may say here, that, though, as you will have noted, my friends
had mostly something to say about books, yet they were not great
readers, considering the refinement of their manners and the great amount
of leisure which they obviously had. In fact, when Dick, especially,
mentioned a book, he did so with an air of a man who has accomplished an
achievement; as much as to say, "There, you see, I have actually read
that!"
The evening passed all too quickly for
me; since that day, for the first time in my life, I was having my fill
of pleasure of the eyes without any of that sense of incongruity, that
dread of approaching ruin, which had always beset me hitherto when I had
been amongst the beautiful works of art of the past, mingled with the
lovely nature of the present; both of them, in fact, the result of the
long centuries of tradition, which had compelled men to produce the art,
and compelled nature to run into the mould of the ages. Here I could
enjoy everything without an after-thought of the injustice and miseraable
toil which made my leisure; the ignorance and dulness of life which went
to make my keen appreciation of
[Page 165]
history;
the tyranny and the struggle full of fear and mishap which went to make
my romance. The only weight I had upon my heart was a vague fear as it
drew toward bed-time concerning the place wherein I should wake on the
morrow: but I choked that down, and went to bed happy, and in a very few
moments was in a dreamless sleep.
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