She and I, Volume 1 Page 5

  CHAPTER FIVE.

  "JOY."

  "Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of self that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight!"

  It was a regular joyous, jolly, old-fashioned Christmas morning: bright,sparkling, exhilarating.

  Just sufficient snow had fallen during the night to give that semblanceof winter to the house-tops and hedge-rows, with a faint white powderingof the roadway and pavement, which adds so much to the quondam season offamily gatherings, merrymakings, and plum-pudding; and this, King Frosthad hardened by his patent adamantine process, so that it might notcause any inconvenience to foot passengers or lose its virgin freshness;while, at the same time, he decked and bedizened each separate twig andbranch of the poor, leafless, skeleton trees with rare festal jewels andear-drops of glittering icicles; besides weaving fantastic devices ofgoblin castles and airy, feathery foliage on the window panes, fairyarmies in martial array and delicate gnome-tracery--transforming theirappearance from that of ordinary glass into brilliantly-embroideredflakes of transparent, lucent crystal. Ah me! Jack Frost is a cunningenchanter: his will is all-powerful, his taste wondrous.

  The clanging church bells were merrily ringing in "the day of gladtidings," as our good vicar styled it, when I jumped out of bed andlooked out to see what the weather was like. It was exactly as I couldhave wished--if I had had any choice in the matter--Christmas all over!

  A little robin acquaintance, who never omitted his daily call at mywindow-ledge for his matutinal crumbs, was stretching his tiny crimsonthroat to its fullest extent, with quivering heart-notes of choral song,from a solitary poplar-tree in the adjacent garden on which my room out-looked, making the still air re-echo with his melody; my old retriever,Catch, a good dog and true, was pawing and scratching at the door to beadmitted, in his customary way, and sniffing a cordial welcome, as hewondered and grumbled, in the most intelligible doggy language, at mybeing so late in taking him out for his preprandial walk--when it wassuch a fine morning, too! I heard the maid wishing me a cheery "MerryChristmas, sir!" as she left my hot water; so, it is not to be wonderedthat, after I had had the moral courage to plunge into my cold tub,dressing afterwards in a subsequent glow, I became infected with thebuoyant spirit of all these social surroundings; and felt as light-hearted and "seasonable" as Santa Claus and his wintry comrades, thechurch bells, little robin redbreast, dog Catch, and Bridget the maid,could either inspire or expect.

  Dog Catch and I sallied forth for our walk--I, cheerful, and drinking inhealthy draughts of the fresh, frosty aether; he with great red tonguelolling out, as he trotted along in front of me, coming back everysecond step and looking up into my face with a broad grin on his jawsand a roguish glance in his brown eyes--I suppose at some funny caninejoke or other, which he could not permit me to share--or else, dartingbackwards and forwards, gleefully barking and making sundry feints anddashes at me; or, prancing up in his elephantine bounds, with feloniousintentions regarding my walking stick, which he considered he had a muchbetter right to carry than myself.

  We had lots of meetings and greetings when strolling along.

  First, there was the gardener's dog at the corner, an old chum ofCatch's, who passed the time of day to us with a cheerful bow-wow;although I was surprised to see that he had not "a posy tied to histail," according to the orthodox adage of typical smartness. Then therewas the milkman's dog, a gaunt retriever like mine, but of a very baddisposition, and a surly brute withal. He and Catch were deadly foes,as is frequently the case with dogs of the same breed; so, of course,they could never meet without quarrelling: on this occasion theyexchanged ferocious challenges, and parted with signs and symptoms ofunmitigated contempt on both sides, expressed by growls and barks, tailrisings, and mane upliftings.

  Further on, we encountered Mrs O'Flannagan, an Irish lady, who kept thefruit stall at the corner by the cross roads. She was dressed, asneatly as a new pin, in an "illigant" Connemara cloak, which seemed tobe donned for the first time, besides a bran new bonnet; and, thanks to"elbow grease," her peachy, soap-scrubbed cheeks shone again. She wasreturning from early chapel, whither she had gone to mass andconfession; and where I trust she had received absolution for her littlepeccadilloes. I've no doubt she _did_ get absolution, for she told methat Father Macmanus was "a raal gintleman."

  Then Catch chased a roving cat until it got within the neighbouringshelter of its domiciliary railings, whence it me-ai-ouwed to him,through all the vowels of pussy's vocabulary, a Christmas compliment--with, probably, a curse tacked on to the tail of it, or that "phoo!phoo! phiz!" meant nothing. But the feline expletives were all thrownaway; for Catch was only "full of fun and with nobody to play with him,"like Peter Mooney's goose, and had only chased pussy in the naturalexuberance of his spirits, having no "hard feelings" towards her, or anydesire, I know, to injure her soft tabby fur.

  We next came across old Shuffler, the house-agent, waddling along, withhis sound eye rolling buoyantly on its axis, while the artificial orbglared steadily forward in a fixed, glassy stare.

  "Bootiful weether!" said he, cordially, to me, touching hishat--"bootiful weether, sir!"

  "It _is_ a fine day," I responded. "A merry Christmas to you, MrShuffler."

  "Same to you, sir, and many on 'em," he replied, courteously.

  "Thank you, Shuffler," I said, satisfied with the colloquy, "but I mustnow say good day!"

  "Good day, and a 'appy noo year to you," answered he, passing on hisway. Really, everybody appeared to be very civil and good natured to-day; and everything joyous and rose-coloured! Was it owing to thebright morning, or to the fact of its being Christmas, or to the sweetfeelings I had lying hidden in my heart anent my darling?

  I cannot tell: can you?

  After a time Catch and I reached the river. It was not now rolling by,a muddy, silent, whilom sluggish, whilom busy stream. It was quitetransformed in its appearance and resembled more some frozen arcticstream than the old Thames which I knew so well. Far as the eye couldreach, it was covered with sheets of broken ice, again congealedtogether and piled up with snow--so many little bergs, that had beenborn at Great Marlow and Hampton, and other spots above the locks;gradually increasing in size and bulk as they span round and swept by onthe current, until they should reach the bridges below. Then, theywould, perhaps, be formed into one great icefield, stretching from bankto bank, whereon a grand bullock-roasting festival might be held, or afancy fair instituted, as happened in the reign of James, the king, "ofever pious memory:" that is, if my chronology be right and my memory notat fault, as may very possibly be the case.

  Doggy did not mind the ice a bit, however. He plunged in, time aftertime, to fetch out my in-thrown stick, with a frisky bound; emergingafter the performance with ice-pendants to his glossy, silken ears andcoat smartly curled, as if he had just paid a visit to Truefitt's, andbeen manipulated by the dexterous hands of one of the assistants at thatcelebrated establishment, armed with the crinal tongs and anybody's bestmacassar.

  By-and-by we returned; and whom should I then meet on my way home but,positively, my eye-glass acquaintance of Downing Street. Fancy hisbeing out before nine o'clock in the morning! It was an unparalleledoccurrence.

  "Hullo, Horner!" I sang out, "'morning, old fellow. Compliments of theseason!"

  "Bai-ey Je-ove! Lorton, how you stawtled me--'do!"

  "You don't mean to say," I asked, on getting closer to him, "that you'veactually taken to early rising?"

  "No, 'pon honah, I asshaw you, my deah fellah, no!" he replied, quiteexcitedly. "No, I asshaw you, no," he repeated.

  "Well, then, what on earth makes you come out at this early unearthlyhour?" I said.

  "Oh--ah! you see--ah, my deah fellah," he answered, "it was all thoseconfawnded little bahds and the bells kicking up such a raow; that, 'ponhonah, I couldn't sl
eep and so I came out. I asshaw you it was allthose bweastwy little bahds and the bells!"

  "At all events, I must congratulate you on your reformation," I said.

  "Yaas? But it was all those bweastwy little bahds and the bells, youknow; and it's only once a ye-ah you know, Lorton," he added.

  "So you will never do so again till next time--is that what you mean,Horner?" I asked.

  "Yaas! But, bai-ey Je-ove, I say, Lorton, my deah fellah, were theClydes those ladies in hawf-mawning, eh?" said he, smiling feebly in hisusual suave manner. He thought he had got hold of a grand joke at myexpense.

  However, I was not in the least angry with him. I felt too happy tohave lost my temper with any one, especially Horner, whom I generallyregarded as a poor creature to be tolerated rather than blamed.

  "Did you ever hear, Horner," said I, "how Peabody made his firstfortune?"

  "No, 'pon honah, I asshaw you, no."

  "Well, then, I'll tell you, Horner," said I. "It was by minding his ownbusiness, my dear fellow."

  "Bai-ey Je-ove!" he ejaculated, adding, after a pause, "Weally, Lorton,you dawn't mean it?"

  "I suppose," I continued, "that you are also just as ignorant again howMr Peabody made his second and greater fortune, eh?"

  "Yaas," he drawled out.

  "Ah," said I, "he got _that_ by letting other people's business alone!"

  "Bai-ey Je-ove!" said Horner, quite staggered at this second blow."Vewy amusing anecdote, indeed! Thank you, Lorton. Much obwiged, andall that sawt of thing, for the in-fawmation. Yaas, bai-ey Je-ove! Andso I'll say good day. Good day, Lorton; good day to you!" and hestarted off, with a quick step, in the very opposite direction to thatwhich he had been previously going. I went on homeward, with Catchfollowing obediently at my heels.

  Which way did we go?

  Can you not guess, or must I have to tell you?

  How very obtuse some persons are!

  Why, by The Terrace, of course. Was it not there that Min lived; andmight I not chance to get a glance from her love-speaking, soft greyeyes? Only one glance--and I would be amply repaid!

  I passed by her house. Yes, there she was at the window, attending toher flowers and carefully shielding a much-prized little maidenhair fernwith a bell glass from the rays of the sun, which beamed as thoughPhoebus had mistaken the season and thought it a summer day.

  She saw me as I sauntered by, recognising me with a little nod and smileand a sudden heightening of colour; and came to the door. Of course Iwent up the steps and spoke to her. _You_ would have proceeded on yourway with a passing bow? Oh, yes!

  "Good morning, Mr Lorton," she said. "How very early you are out to besure! I thought gentlemen were always lazy, but you're an exception tothe rule, it seems;" and her soft grey eyes sparkled.

  "Well, I don't know that, Miss Clyde," I said. "I suppose I'm just aslazy as the rest. I only came out to give my old doggy a walk and adip, as I generally do every morning before breakfast. If it were notfor him, I do not believe I would get up sooner than anybody else; buthe's such a pertinacious fellow that he won't be denied his walk, alwaysrousing me up at eight o'clock `sharp.' Would you believe it, he bringsmy boots up to my door, and it is a trick he taught himself!"

  "Dear old doggy," she said, stooping down and patting his head. "What anice sagacious fellow you are! Come here, sir, and give me your paw!Now, shake hands. Doggy, do you like me?" Catch could tell a friend atonce; so looking up, he licked her hand, expressing, as intelligently aspossible, that he was pleased to make her acquaintance. "How I lovedogs!" she ejaculated, rising up again.

  "Do you!" said I. "Ah, Miss Clyde! `Love me, love my dog.'"

  "What nonsense, Mr Lorton!" she said, with a warm blush tinting hercheek. "But, I declare you haven't wished me the compliments of theseason yet. How very ungallant you are! I will set you an example--amerry Christmas, Mr Lorton!"

  "A thousand to you, Miss Clyde; and each happier than the last!" Isaid.

  "Oh dear, dear!" she exclaimed in mimic dismay; "I am sure I would notcare about having so many as that! Fancy a thousand Christmases--why,what an old, old woman I should be then!"

  "And a very nice old woman, too," said I.

  "Merci pour le compliment, Monsieur," she replied, making me anelaborate curtsey and laughing merrily. "And what have you got there?"she asked, pointing to a little bunch of violets that I was extractingfrom my overcoat pocket, and which I had procured for her when Catch methis friend the gardener's dog.

  "I got them for you, Miss Clyde," said I, somewhat bashfully; "and--and--"

  "Oh, _thank_ you, Mr Lorton," she said, quite pleased. "I love violetsmore than any other flower. You could not have given me a nicerpresent. I was only wishing for some just now. But, I hear mammacoming down stairs; so, as I've not made the tea yet, I must go in--good-bye!"

  "Good-bye," I echoed, clasping her tiny hand in mine. "Good-bye, andmany good wishes for the day, _my darling_!" I courageously added thelast two words, lowering my voice over them, as she gently closed thedoor.

  She was not offended, if she _had_ heard the term of endearment I used,for she gave me another nice little bow and smile from the window.Still I think she _did_ hear me. I fancied I saw a conscious look inthe dancing grey eyes, a blush yet lingering on her damask cheek.

  I went home with joy in my heart--joy which fed upon itself andincreased each moment. Don't you remember what Herder says? Let butthe heart once awake, and wave follows wave of newborn feelings--

  "So bald sich das Herz ergiesst, Stromt Welle auf Welle!"

  I only know that I was as happy as possible, and astonished everybody bythe breakfast I ate.

  You fancy, perhaps, that I wasn't really in love, or I wouldn't probablyhave been hungry? Nonsense! Let me tell you that happy lovers arealways hungry, and have great appetites. It is only your poor,miserable, disappointed suitors, who are in a state of suspense, that goabout with a hang-dog look and cannot eat. I firmly believe thatShakespeare intended to convey the idea that Valentine was mad, or hewould never have put into his mouth such ridiculous words as those, thathe could "break his fast, dine, sup, and sleep, upon the very naked nameof love!" If that gentleman of Verona had been sane knowing how hispassion was reciprocated and that his lady loved him in return, he wouldhave had just as good an appetite as I had that morning; when, joyous asa bird, I was as hungry as a hunter.

  As for dog Catch, you should have seen how he galloped into his oatmealporridge after his walk--how the oatmeal porridge galloped into himwould, however, be a more correct form of expression. You should haveonly seen him, that's all!

  Next came church; and, of all occasions when church-going strikes evenan uninterested spectator, generally lacking in religious zeal, withfeelings of unwonted emotion, commend me to Christmas day. Then, toparaphrase the well-known lines of the poet, those in the habit of beingregularly present at worship "went the more;" while those go now "whonever went before." People make a practice of visiting church on thatday who seldom, if ever, attend a religious service at any other time,taking the year all through. It is like the wedding feast to which thelame, the halt, and the blind were invited. Every one goes then; everyclass and clan is represented.

  Saint Canon's was a sight. Its garland-twined oaken columns, itswreath-hung galleries, its scroll-work in the chancel--where "Unto us ason is born," and the message of glad tidings, which the shepherds ofBethlehem first heard when they "watched their flocks by night," and sawthe star in the east, two thousand years ago, shone forth in blazonmentsof red and purple and gold--all reminded the congregation of thefestival they had assembled to commemorate; the day of peace and good-will to all, that had dawned for them once more, as I trust it will dawnagain and again for us yet on many more future anniversaries. Theplace, too, was crammed, contrary to Lady Dasher's fears concerning thespread of unbelief and the degeneracy of the present age. Everybody wasthere that could go at all, for it was a year in which we had
to bespecially mindful of mercies vouchsafed to us. Even old Shuffler, whohad not been seen inside a place of public worship before within thememory of man, was not an absentee.

  I was not thinking of him, however, nor of the display which thedecorations made, nor of the congregation--indeed, I hardly attended tothe service. All my thoughts were centred on Min.

  A madonna-like face, a pair of honest, steadfast, speaking, grey eyeswere ever before me; although I could not actually see her, except whenwe stood up during the service, according to the ordinances of therubric, as she sat a long way off. Notwithstanding my usual attachmenttowards them, I felt inclined to quarrel with the high pews that hid herfrom my sight; and, I'm afraid, despised Bishop Burnet for hisinnovation. The vicar, they told me afterwards, preached a simple,beautiful sermon, that struck home to the hearts of every one present;but I heard none of it. My sermon was in my heart, and bore for itstext one little word of four letters. O Min, Min! you had a good dealto answer for.

  "Long was the good man's sermon, Yet it seemed not so to me; For he spoke of Ruth the beautiful, And still I thought of thee.

  "Long was the prayer he uttered, Yet it seemed not so to me; For in my heart I prayed with him, And still I thought of thee!"

  After service, of course everybody met everybody else, each of their ownrespective little world, at the church door, exchanging those goodwishes and seasonable greetings proper to the day.

  There was a grand throng without the porch. Horner was there. It wouldhave been nothing at all without him and his eye-glass. He did notappear to bear me any hard feelings, I was glad to see, for myunkindness of the morning. He nodded affably, and said "'do!" to me, inhis usual way, as if he had not met me before.

  Min and her mother did not linger as did the other parishioners; so, Ihad only an opportunity of a passing bow, without that other tenderlittle hand-clasp which I had hoped for. But she looked at me, and thatwas something.

  Lady Dasher, however, stopped for a minute or two; so did her daughters.

  "Beautiful weather for Christmas, Lady Dasher," hazarded I. Sheevidently did not agree with me, for she looked about her mournfully,with a down-drawn visage, just as if we were all attending a funeral, ofwhich she was the chief mourner.

  "Really, Mr Lorton, do you think so?" came her answer at length."Don't you find it very cold?"

  "Dear me, ma! why you said last Christmas that it was too warm!" saidher daughter Bessie.

  "Ah! Mr Lorton," continued her mother, not noticing her remark, "wenever have those good, old-fashioned Christmases that we had when mypoor dear papa was alive!"

  "No, I suppose not," I answered; "people say that it is because of thevast American forests being gradually cut down, admitting freer currentsof air all over the world; while others put the change down to theinfluence of the Gulf Stream. Still, I dare say, it will all come rightagain at some time or other."

  "Ah, Mr Lorton," said Lady Dasher, "I'm afraid it will _never_ comeright again. You are too sanguine, like all young people."

  "Oh, `never' is a long day," I said; "we should all be hopeful andmerry, I think, at least on this one day in the year."

  "I could never be merry again, Mr Lorton," she said, with a prodigioussigh, which seemed to come from the depths of her heart, "since poordear papa died;" and she then passed on mournfully homewards, withBessie and Seraphine in her wake. Their cheerful faces, as they noddedback and smiled at Horner and myself, contrasted strongly with theirmother's lugubrious visage. I wonder if anybody ever saw her laugh?I've got my doubts about it.

  Then came out Miss Pimpernell, her kind old face beaming with smiles asshe bowed here and there, and gave a cordial greeting to us youngfellows, who still stood around the church porch. She did not forgetme, you may be certain. "God bless you, Frank, my boy!" she said, inher affectionate, purring way; dismissing me home with a light heart toeat the traditionary roast turkey and plum-pudding, at peace with allmankind, and in love with all womankind for her sake.

  What a happy, happy day it had been!

  That night I passed and repassed Min's house a dozen times at least,only that I might see her shadow on the blinds, weaving luxuriouscastles in Spain the while. I would be a great general, a distinguishedorator, a famous statesman, a celebrated author! I would do some grand,heroic action. I desired to be "somebody," something, only great andglorious! And yet, as One above is my judge, I had not one selfishcraving, not a single purely-personal thought in connection with thesemad wishes. It was but for _her_ sake that I longed for honour and fameand advancement. Only for her, only for her!