A Reputed Changeling. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ and silent, and Mrs. Woodford felt constrained to take leave, courteously conducted to the door by her unwilling host.

      She had not taken many steps before she was startled by a sharp shower from a squirt coming sidelong like a blow on her cheek and surprising her into a low cry, which was heard by the Major, so that he hastened out, exclaiming, “Madam, I trust that you are not hurt.”

      “Oh no, sir!  It is nothing—not a stone—only water!” she said, wiping it with her handkerchief.

      “I am grieved and ashamed at the evil pranks of my unhappy son, but he shall suffer for it.”

      “Nay, sir, I pray you.  It was only childish mischief.”

      He had not waited to hear her pleadings, and before she was half across the Close he had overtaken her, dragging the cowering struggling boy in his powerful grasp.

      “Now, Peregrine,” he commanded, “let me instantly hear you ask the lady’s pardon for your dastardly trick.  Or—!” and his other hand was raised for a blow.

      “I am sure he is sorry,” said Mrs. Woodford, making a motion to ward off the stroke, and as the queer eyes glanced up at her in wondering inquiry, she laid her hand on the bony shoulder, saying, “I know you did not mean to hurt me.  You are sorry, are you not?”

      “Ay,” the boy muttered, and she saw a look of surprise on his father’s face.

      “There,” she said, “he has made his amends, and surely that may suffice.”

      “Nay, madam, it would be a weak and ungodly tenderness that would spare to drive forth the evil spirit which possesses the child by the use of the rod.  I should fail in my duty alike to God and man,” he added, in reply to a fresh gesture of intercession, “did I not teach him what it is to insult a lady at mine own door.”

      Mrs. Woodford could only go away, heartily sorry for the boy.  From that time, however, both she and her little daughter were untouched by his tricks, though every one else had some complaint.  Peas were shot from unknown recesses at venerable canons, mice darted out before shrieking ladies, frogs’ clammy forms descended on the nape of their necks, hedgehogs were curled up on their chairs, and though Peregrine Oakshott was not often caught in the act, no mischief ever took place that was not attributed to him; and it was popularly believed in the Close that his father flogged him every morning for what he was about to do, and his tutor repeated the castigation every evening for what he had done, besides interludes at each detection.

      Perhaps frequent usage had toughened his skin, or he had become expert in wriggling from the full force of the blow, or else, as many believed, the elfish nature was impervious; for he was as ready as ever for a trick the moment he was released, like, as his brother said, the dog Keeper, who, with a slaughtered chick hung round his neck in penance, rushed murderously upon the rest of the brood.

      Yet Mrs. Woodford, on her way through the Cathedral nave, was aware of something leaning against one of the great columns, crouching together so that the dark head, supported on the arms, rested against the pillar which fluted the pier.  The organ was pealing softly and plaintively, and the little gray coat seemed to heave as with a sob.  She stood, impelled to offer to take him with her into the choir, but a verger, spying him, began rating him in a tone fit for expelling a dog, “Come, master, none of your pranks here!  Be not you ashamed of yourself to be lying in wait for godly folk on their way to prayers?  If I catch you here again the Dean shall hear of it, and you shall smart for it.”

      Mrs. Woodford began, “He was only hearkening to the music,” but she caught such a look of malignity cast upon the verger as perfectly appalled her, and in another moment the boy had dashed, head over heels, out at the nearest door.

      The next report that reached her related how a cloud of lime had suddenly descended from a broken arch of the cloister on the solemn verger, on his way to escort the Dean to the Minster, powdering his wig, whitening his black gown from collar to hem, and not a little endangering his eyesight.

      The culprit eluded all pursuit on this occasion; but Mrs. Woodford soon after was told that the Major had caught Peregrine listening at the little south door of the choir, had collared him, and flogged him worse than ever, for being seduced by the sounds of the popish and idolatrous worship, and had told all his sons that the like chastisement awaited them if they presumed to cross the threshold of the steeple house.

      Nevertheless the Senior Prefect of the college boys, when about to come out of the Cathedral on Sunday morning, found his gown pinned with a skewer so fast to the seat that he was only set free at the expense of a rent.  Public opinion decided that the deed had been done by the imp of Oakshott, and accordingly the whole of the Wykeham scholars set on him with hue and cry the first time they saw him outside the Close, and hunted him as far as St. Cross, where he suddenly and utterly vanished from their sight.

      Mrs. Woodford agreed with Anne that it was a very strange story.  For how could he have been in the Cathedral at service time when it was well known that Major Oakshott had all his family together at his own form of worship in his house?  Anne, who had been in hopes that her mother would be thus convinced of his supernatural powers, looked disappointed, but she had afterwards to confess that Charles Archfield had found out that it was his cousin Sedley Archfield who had played the audacious trick, in revenge for a well-merited tunding from the Prefect.

      “And then saddled it on young Oakshott?” asked her mother.

      “Charley says one such matter more or less makes no odds to the Whig ape; but I cannot endure Sedley Archfield, mamma.”

      “If he lets another lad bear the blame of his malice he cannot indeed be a good lad.”

      “So Charley and Lucy say,” returned Anne.  “We shall be glad to be away from Winchester, for while Peregrine Oakshott torments slyly, Sedley Archfield loves to frighten us openly, and to hurt us to see how much we can bear, and if Charley tries to stand up for us, Sedley calls him a puny wench, and a milksop, and knocks him down.  But, dear madam, pray do not tell what I have said to her ladyship, for there is no knowing what Sedley would do to us.”

      “My little maid has not known before what boys can be!”

      “No; but indeed Charles Archfield is quite different, almost as if he had been bred in London.  He is a very gentleman.  He never is rude to any girl, and he is courteous and gentle and kind.  He gathered walnuts for us yesterday, and cracked all mine, and I am to make him a purse with two of the shells.”

      Mrs. Woodford smiled, but there was a short thrill of anxiety in her motherly heart as her glance brought up a deeper colour into Anne’s cheeks.  There was a reserve to bring that glow, for the child knew that if she durst say that Charles called her his little sweetheart and wife, and that the walnut-shell purse would be kept as a token, she should be laughed at as a silly child, perhaps forbidden to make it, or else her uncle might hear and make a joke of it.  It was not exactly disingenuousness, but rather the first dawn of maidenly reserve and modesty that reddened her cheek in a manner her mother did not fail to observe.

      Yet it was with more amusement than misgiving, for children played at courtship like other games in mimicry of being grown up, and a baronet’s only son was in point of fact almost as much out of the reach of a sea captain’s daughter and clergyman’s niece as a prince of the blood royal; and Master Archfield would probably be contracted long before he could choose for himself, for his family were not likely to take into account that if Captain Woodford had not been too severely wounded to come forward after the battle of Southwold Bay he would have been knighted.  On the strength of which Anne, as her companions sometimes said, gave herself in consequence more airs than Mistress Lucy ever did.

      Sedley, СКАЧАТЬ