The Complete Works of Frances Hodgson Burnett. Frances Hodgson Burnett

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      “It is disgraceful, Harry!” she said. “Fancy a child of that age being taken from his mother, and made the companion of a man like my brother! He will either be brutal to the boy or indulge him until he is a little monster. If I thought it would do any good to write——”

      “It wouldn’t, Constantia,” said Sir Harry.

      “I know it wouldn’t,” she answered. “I know his lordship the Earl of Dorincourt too well;—but it is outrageous.”

      Not only the poor people and farmers heard about little Lord Fauntleroy; others knew him. He was talked about so much and there were so many stories of him—of his beauty, his sweet temper, his popularity, and his growing influence over the Earl, his grandfather—that rumors of him reached the gentry at their country places and he was heard of in more than one county of England. People talked about him at the dinner tables, ladies pitied his young mother, and wondered if the boy were as handsome as he was said to be, and men who knew the Earl and his habits laughed heartily at the stories of the little fellow’s belief in his lordship’s amiability. Sir Thomas Asshe of Asshawe Hall, being in Erleboro one day, met the Earl and his grandson riding together, and stopped to shake hands with my lord and congratulate him on his change of looks and on his recovery from the gout. “And, d’ ye know,” he said, when he spoke of the incident afterward, “the old man looked as proud as a turkey-cock; and upon my word I don’t wonder, for a handsomer, finer lad than his grandson I never saw! As straight as a dart, and sat his pony like a young trooper!”

      And so by degrees Lady Lorridaile, too, heard of the child; she heard about Higgins and the lame boy, and the cottages at Earl’s Court, and a score of other things,—and she began to wish to see the little fellow. And just as she was wondering how it might be brought about, to her utter astonishment, she received a letter from her brother inviting her to come with her husband to Dorincourt.

      “It seems incredible!” she exclaimed. “I have heard it said that the child has worked miracles, and I begin to believe it. They say my brother adores the boy and can scarcely endure to have him out of sight. And he is so proud of him! Actually, I believe he wants to show him to us.” And she accepted the invitation at once.

      When she reached Dorincourt Castle with Sir Harry, it was late in the afternoon, and she went to her room at once before seeing her brother. Having dressed for dinner, she entered the drawing-room. The Earl was there standing near the fire and looking very tall and imposing; and at his side stood a little boy in black velvet, and a large Vandyke collar of rich lace—a little fellow whose round bright face was so handsome, and who turned upon her such beautiful, candid brown eyes, that she almost uttered an exclamation of pleasure and surprise at the sight.

      As she shook hands with the Earl, she called him by the name she had not used since her girlhood.

      “What, Molyneux!” she said, “is this the child?”

      “Yes, Constantia,” answered the Earl, “this is the boy. Fauntleroy, this is your grand-aunt, Lady Lorridaile.”

      “How do you do, Grand-Aunt?” said Fauntleroy.

      Lady Lorridaile put her hand on his shoulders, and after looking down into his upraised face a few seconds, kissed him warmly.

      “I am your Aunt Constantia,” she said, “and I loved your poor papa, and you are very like him.”

      “It makes me glad when I am told I am like him,” answered Fauntleroy, “because it seems as if every one liked him,—just like Dearest, eszackly,—Aunt Constantia” (adding the two words after a second’s pause).

      Lady Lorridaile was delighted. She bent and kissed him again, and from that moment they were warm friends.

      “Well, Molyneux,” she said aside to the Earl afterward, “it could not possibly be better than this!”

      “I think not,” answered his lordship dryly. “He is a fine little fellow. We are great friends. He believes me to be the most charming and sweet-tempered of philanthropists. I will confess to you, Constantia,—as you would find it out if I did not,—that I am in some slight danger of becoming rather an old fool about him.”

      “What does his mother think of you?” asked Lady Lorridaile, with her usual straightforwardness.

      “I have not asked her,” answered the Earl, slightly scowling.

      “Well,” said Lady Lorridaile, “I will be frank with you at the outset, Molyneux, and tell you I don’t approve of your course, and that it is my intention to call on Mrs. Errol as soon as possible; so if you wish to quarrel with me, you had better mention it at once. What I hear of the young creature makes me quite sure that her child owes her everything. We were told even at Lorridaile Park that your poorer tenants adore her already.”

      “They adore HIM,” said the Earl, nodding toward Fauntleroy. “As to Mrs. Errol, you’ll find her a pretty little woman. I’m rather in debt to her for giving some of her beauty to the boy, and you can go to see her if you like. All I ask is that she will remain at Court Lodge and that you will not ask me to go and see her,” and he scowled a little again.

      “But he doesn’t hate her as much as he used to, that is plain enough to me,” her ladyship said to Sir Harry afterward. “And he is a changed man in a measure, and, incredible as it may seem, Harry, it is my opinion that he is being made into a human being, through nothing more nor less than his affection for that innocent, affectionate little fellow. Why, the child actually loves him—leans on his chair and against his knee. His own children would as soon have thought of nestling up to a tiger.”

      The very next day she went to call upon Mrs. Errol. When she returned, she said to her brother:

      “Molyneux, she is the loveliest little woman I ever saw! She has a voice like a silver bell, and you may thank her for making the boy what he is. She has given him more than her beauty, and you make a great mistake in not persuading her to come and take charge of you. I shall invite her to Lorridaile.”

      “She’ll not leave the boy,” replied the Earl.

      “I must have the boy too,” said Lady Lorridaile, laughing.

      But she knew Fauntleroy would not be given up to her, and each day she saw more clearly how closely those two had grown to each other, and how all the proud, grim old man’s ambition and hope and love centered themselves in the child, and how the warm, innocent nature returned his affection with most perfect trust and good faith.

      She knew, too, that the prime reason for the great dinner party was the Earl’s secret desire to show the world his grandson and heir, and to let people see that the boy who had been so much spoken of and described was even a finer little specimen of boyhood than rumor had made him.

      “Bevis and Maurice were such a bitter humiliation to him,” she said to her husband. “Every one knew it. He actually hated them. His pride has full sway here.” Perhaps there was not one person who accepted the invitation without feeling some curiosity about little Lord Fauntleroy, and wondering if he would be on view.

      And when the time came he was on view.

      “The lad has good manners,” said the Earl. “He will be in no one’s way. Children are usually idiots or bores,—mine were both,—but he can actually answer when he’s spoken to, and be silent when he is not. He is never offensive.”

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