25. THE ROYAL ACADEMY - THE FARNFIELD ESTATE
Ethelberta was a firm believer in the kindly effects of artistic
education upon the masses. She held that defilement of mind often
arose from ignorance of eye; and her philanthropy being, by the
simple force of her situation, of that sort which lingers in the
neighbourhood of home, she concentrated her efforts in this kind
upon Sol and Dan. Accordingly, the Academy exhibition having now
just opened, she ordered the brothers to appear in their best
clothes at the entrance to Burlington House just after noontide on
the Saturday of the first week, this being the only day and hour at
which they could attend without 'losing a half' and therefore it was
necessary to put up with the inconvenience of arriving at a crowded
and enervating time.
When Ethelberta was set down in the quadrangle she perceived the
faithful pair, big as the Zamzummims of old time, standing like
sentinels in the particular corner that she had named to them: for
Sol and Dan would as soon have attempted petty larceny as broken
faith with their admired lady-sister Ethelberta. They welcomed her
with a painfully lavish exhibition of large new gloves, and chests
covered with broad triangular areas of padded blue silk, occupying
the position that the shirt-front had occupied in earlier days, and
supposed to be lineally descended from the tie of a neckerchief.
The dress of their sister for to-day was exactly that of a
respectable workman's relative who had no particular ambition in the
matter of fashion--a black stuff gown, a plain bonnet to match. A
veil she wore for obvious reasons: her face was getting well known
in London, and it had already appeared at the private view in an
uncovered state, when it was scrutinized more than the paintings
around. But now homely and useful labour was her purpose.
Catalogue in hand she took the two brothers through the galleries,
teaching them in whispers as they walked, and occasionally
correcting them--first, for too reverential a bearing towards the
well-dressed crowd, among whom they persisted in walking with their
hats in their hands and with the contrite bearing of meek people in
church; and, secondly, for a tendency which they too often showed
towards straying from the contemplation of the pictures as art to
indulge in curious speculations on the intrinsic nature of the
delineated subject, the gilding of the frames, the construction of
the skylights overhead, or admiration for the bracelets, lockets,
and lofty eloquence of persons around them.
'Now,' said Ethelberta, in a warning whisper, 'we are coming near
the picture which was partly painted from myself. And, Dan, when
you see it, don't you exclaim "Hullo!" or "That's Berta to a T," or
anything at all. It would not matter were it not dangerous for me
to be noticed here to-day. I see several people who would recognize
me on the least provocation.'
'Not a word,' said Dan. 'Don't you be afeard about that. I feel
that I baint upon my own ground to-day; and wouldn't do anything to
cause an upset, drown me if I would. Would you, Sol?'
In this temper they all pressed forward, and Ethelberta could not
but be gratified at the reception of Ladywell's picture, though it
was accorded by critics not very profound. It was an operation of
some minutes to get exactly opposite, and when side by side the
three stood there they overheard the immediate reason of the
pressure. 'Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing' had been
lengthily discoursed upon that morning by the Coryphaeus of popular
opinion; and the spirit having once been poured out sons and
daughters could prophesy. But, in truth, Ladywell's work, if not
emphatically original, was happily centred on a middle stratum of
taste, and apart from this adventitious help commanded, and deserved
to command, a wide area of appreciation.
While they were standing here in the very heart of the throng
Ethelberta's ears were arrested by two male voices behind her, whose
words formed a novel contrast to those of the other speakers around.
'Some men, you see, with extravagant expectations of themselves,
coolly get them gratified, while others hope rationally and are
disappointed. Luck, that's what it is. And the more easily a man
takes life the more persistently does luck follow him.'
'Of course; because, if he's industrious he does not want luck's
assistance. Natural laws will help him instead.'
'Well, if it is true that Ladywell has painted a good picture he has
done it by an exhaustive process. He has painted every possible bad
one till nothing more of that sort is left for him. You know what
lady's face served as the original to this, I suppose?'
'Mrs. Petherwin's, I hear.'
'Yes, Mrs. Alfred Neigh that's to be.'
'What, that elusive fellow caught at last?'
'So it appears; but she herself is hardly so well secured as yet, it
seems, though he takes the uncertainty as coolly as possible. I
knew nothing about it till he introduced the subject as we were
standing here on Monday, and said, in an off-hand way, "I mean to
marry that lady." I asked him how. "Easily," he said; "I will have
her if there are a hundred at her heels." You will understand that
this was quite in confidence.'
'Of course, of course.' Then there was a slight laugh, and the
companions proceeded to other gossip.
Ethelberta, calm and compressed in manner, sidled along to extricate
herself, not daring to turn round, and Dan and Sol followed, till
they were all clear of the spot. The brothers, who had heard the
words equally well with Ethelberta, made no remark to her upon them,
assuming that they referred to some peculiar system of courtship
adopted in high life, with which they had rightly no concern.
Ethelberta ostensibly continued her business of tutoring the young
workmen just as before, though every emotion in her had been put on
the alert by this discovery. She had known that Neigh admired her;
yet his presumption in uttering such a remark as he was reported to
have uttered, confidentially or otherwise, nearly took away her
breath. Perhaps it was not altogether disagreeable to have her
breath so taken away.
'I mean to marry that lady.' She whispered the words to herself
twenty times in the course of the afternoon. Sol and Dan were left
considerably longer to their private perceptions of the false and
true in art than they had been earlier in the day.
When she reached home Ethelberta was still far removed in her
reflections; and it was noticed afterwards that about this time in
her career her openness of manner entirely deserted her. She mostly
was silent as to her thoughts, and she wore an air of unusual
stillness. It was the silence and stillness of a starry sky, where
all is force and motion. This deep undecipherable habit sometimes
suggested, though it did not reveal, Ethelberta's busy brain to her
sisters, and they said to one another, 'I cannot think what's coming
to Berta: she is not so nice as she used to be.'
The evening under notice was passed desultorily enough after the
discovery of Neigh's self-assured statement. Among other things
that she did after dark, while still musingly examining the
probabilities of the report turning out true, was to wander to the
large attic where the children slept, a frequent habit of hers at
night, to learn if they were snug and comfortable. They were
talking now from bed to bed, the person under discussion being
herself. Herself seemed everywhere to-day.
'I know that she is a fairy,' Myrtle was insisting, 'because she
must be, to have such pretty things in her house, and wear silk
dresses such as mother and we and Picotee haven't got, and have
money to give us whenever we want it.'
'Emmeline says perhaps she knows the fairy's godmother, and is not a
fairy herself, because Berta is too tall for a real fairy.'
'She must be one; for when there was a notch burnt in the hem of my
pretty blue frock she said it should be gone in the morning if I
would go to bed and not cry; and in the morning it was gone, and all
nice and straight as new.'
Ethelberta was recalling to mind how she had sat up and repaired the
damage alluded to by cutting off half an inch of the skirt all round
and hemming it anew, when the breathing of the children became
regular, and they fell asleep. Here were bright little minds ready
for a training, which without money and influence she could never
give them. The wisdom which knowledge brings, and the power which
wisdom may bring, she had always assumed would be theirs in her
dreams for their social elevation. By what means were these things
to be ensured to them if her skill in bread-winning should fail her?
Would not a well-contrived marriage be of service? She covered and
tucked in one more closely, lifted another upon the pillow and
straightened the soft limbs to an easy position; then sat down by
the window and looked out at the flashing stars. Thoughts of
Neigh's audacious statement returned again upon Ethelberta. He had
said that he meant to marry her. Of what standing was the man who
had uttered such an intention respecting one to whom a politic
marriage had become almost a necessity of existence?
She had often heard Neigh speak indefinitely of some estate--'my
little place' he had called it--which he had purchased no very long
time ago. All she knew was that its name was Farnfield, that it lay
thirty or forty miles out of London in a south-westerly direction, a
railway station in the district bearing the same name, so that there
was probably a village or small town adjoining. Whether the dignity
of this landed property was that of domain, farmstead, allotment, or
garden-plot, Ethelberta had not the slightest conception. She was
almost certain that Neigh never lived there, but that might signify
nothing. The exact size and value of the estate would, she mused,
be curious, interesting, and almost necessary information to her who
must become mistress of it were she to allow him to carry out his
singularly cool and crude, if tender, intention. Moreover, its
importance would afford a very good random sample of his worldly
substance throughout, from which alone, after all, could the true
spirit and worth and seriousness of his words be apprehended.
Impecuniosity may revel in unqualified vows and brim over with
confessions as blithely as a bird of May, but such careless
pleasures are not for the solvent, whose very dreams are negotiable,
and are expressed with due care accordingly.
That Neigh had used the words she had far more than prima-facie
appearances for believing. Neigh's own conduct towards her, though
peculiar rather than devoted, found in these words alone a
reasonable key. But, supposing the estate to be such a verbal
hallucination as, for instance, hers had been at Arrowthorne, when
her poor, unprogressive, hopelessly impracticable Christopher came
there to visit her, and was so wonderfully undeceived about her
social standing: what a fiasco, and what a cuckoo-cry would his
utterances about marriage seem then. Christopher had often told her
of his expectations from 'Arrowthorne Lodge,' and of the blunders
that had resulted in consequence. Had not Ethelberta's affection
for Christopher partaken less of lover's passion than of old-
established tutelary tenderness she might have been reminded by this
reflection of the transcendent fidelity he had shown under that
trial--as severe a trial, considering the abnormal, almost morbid,
development of the passion for position in present-day society, as
can be prepared for men who move in the ordinary, unheroic channels
of life.
By the following evening the consideration of this possibility, that
Neigh's position might furnish scope for such a disillusive
discovery by herself as hers had afforded to Christopher, decoyed
Ethelberta into a curious little scheme. She was piqued into a
practical undertaking by the man who could say to his friend with
such sangfroid, 'I mean to marry that lady.'
Merely telling Picotee to prepare for an evening excursion, of which
she was to talk to no one, Ethelberta made ready likewise, and they
left the house in a cab about half-an-hour before sunset, and drove
to the Waterloo Station.
With the decline and departure of the sun a fog gathered itself out
of the low meadow-land that bordered the railway as they went along
towards the west, stretching over it like a placid lake, till at the
end of the journey, the mist became generally pervasive, though not
dense. Avoiding observation as much as they conveniently could, the
two sisters walked from the long wooden shed which formed the
station here, into the rheumy air and along the road to the open
country. Picotee occasionally questioned Ethelberta on the object
of the strange journey: she did not question closely, being
satisfied that in such sure hands as Ethelberta's she was safe.
Deeming it unwise to make any inquiry just yet beyond the simple one
of the way to Farnfield, Ethelberta led her companion along a newly-
fenced road across a heath. In due time they came to an ornamental
gate with a curved sweep of wall on each side, signifying the
entrance to some enclosed property or other. Ethelberta, being
quite free from any digested plan for encouraging Neigh in his
resolve to wive, was startled to find a hope in her that this very
respectable beginning before their eyes was the entrance to the
Farnfield property: that she hoped it was nevertheless
unquestionable. Just beyond lay a turnpike-house, where was dimly
visible a woman in the act of putting up a shutter to the front
window.
Compelled by this time to come to special questions, Ethelberta
instructed Picotee to ask of this person if the place they had just
passed was the entrance to Farnfield Park. The woman replied that
it was. Directly she had gone indoors Ethelberta turned back again
towards the park gate.
'What have we come for, Berta?' said Picotee, as she turned also.
'I'll tell you some day,' replied her sister.
It was now much past eight o'clock, and, from the nature of the
evening, dusk. The last stopping up-train was about ten, so that
half-an-hour could well be afforded for looking round. Ethelberta
went to the gate, which was found to be fastened by a chain and
padlock.
'Ah, the London season,' she murmured.
There was a wicket at the side, and they entered. An avenue of
young fir trees three or four feet in height extended from the gate
into the mist, and down this they walked. The drive was not in very
good order, and the two women were frequently obliged to walk on the
grass to avoid the rough stones in the carriage-way. The double
line of young firs now abruptly terminated, and the road swept
lower, bending to the right, immediately in front being a large
lake, calm and silent as a second sky. They could hear from
somewhere on the margin the purl of a weir, and around were clumps
of shrubs, araucarias and deodars being the commonest.
Ethelberta could not resist being charmed with the repose of the
spot, and hastened on with curiosity to reach the other side of the
pool, where, by every law of manorial topography, the mansion would
be situate. The fog concealed all objects beyond a distance of
twenty yards or thereabouts, but it was nearly full moon, and though
the orb was hidden, a pale diffused light enabled them to see
objects in the foreground. Reaching the other side of the lake the
drive enlarged itself most legitimately to a large oval, as for a
sweep before a door, a pile of rockwork standing in the midst.
But where should have been the front door of a mansion was simply a
rough rail fence, about four feet high. They drew near and looked
over.
In the enclosure, and on the site of the imaginary house, was an
extraordinary group. It consisted of numerous horses in the last
stage of decrepitude, the animals being such mere skeletons that at
first Ethelberta hardly recognized them to be horses at all; they
seemed rather to be specimens of some attenuated heraldic animal,
scarcely thick enough through the body to throw a shadow: or
enlarged castings of the fire-dog of past times. These poor
creatures were endeavouring to make a meal from herbage so trodden
and thin that scarcely a wholesome blade remained; the little that
there was consisted of the sourer sorts common on such sandy soils,
mingled with tufts of heather and sprouting ferns.
'Why have we come here, dear Berta?' said Picotee, shuddering.
'I hardly know,' said Ethelberta.
Adjoining this enclosure was another and smaller one, formed of high
boarding, within which appeared to be some sheds and outhouses.
Ethelberta looked through the crevices, and saw that in the midst of
the yard stood trunks of trees as if they were growing, with
branches also extending, but these were sawn off at the points where
they began to be flexible, no twigs or boughs remaining. Each torso
was not unlike a huge hat-stand, and suspended to the pegs and
prongs were lumps of some substance which at first she did not
recognize; they proved to be a chronological sequel to the previous
scene. Horses' skulls, ribs, quarters, legs, and other joints were
hung thereon, the whole forming a huge open-air larder emitting not
too sweet a smell.
But what Stygian sound was this? There had arisen at the moment
upon the mute and sleepy air a varied howling from a hundred
tongues. It had burst from a spot close at hand--a low wooden
building by a stream which fed the lake--and reverberated for miles.
No further explanation was required.
'We are close to a kennel of hounds,' said Ethelberta, as Picotee
held tightly to her arm. 'They cannot get out, so you need not
fear. They have a horrid way of suddenly beginning thus at
different hours of the night, for no apparent reason: though
perhaps they hear us. These poor horses are waiting to be killed
for their food.'
The experience altogether, from its intense melancholy, was very
depressing, almost appalling to the two lone young women, and they
quickly retraced their footsteps. The pleasant lake, the purl of
the weir, the rudimentary lawns, shrubberies, and avenue, had
changed their character quite. Ethelberta fancied at that moment
that she could not have married Neigh, even had she loved him, so
horrid did his belongings appear to be. But for many other reasons
she had been gradually feeling within this hour that she would not
go out of her way at a beck from a man whose interest was so
unimpassioned.
Thinking no more of him as a possible husband she ceased to be
afraid to make inquiries about the peculiarities of his possessions.
In the high-road they came on a local man, resting from wheeling a
wheelbarrow, and Ethelberta asked him, with the air of a
countrywoman, who owned the estate across the road.
'The man owning that is one of the name of Neigh,' said the native,
wiping his face. ''Tis a family that have made a very large fortune
by the knacker business and tanning, though they be only sleeping
partners in it now, and live like lords. Mr. Neigh was going to
pull down the old huts here, and improve the place and build a
mansion--in short, he went so far as to have the grounds planted,
and the roads marked out, and the fish-pond made, and the place
christened Farnfield Park; but he did no more. "I shall never have
a wife," he said, "so why should I want a house to put her in?"
He's a terrible hater of women, I hear, particularly the lower
class.'
'Indeed!'
'Yes, and since then he has let half the land to the Honourable Mr.
Mountclere, a brother of Lord Mountclere's. Mr. Mountclere wanted
the spot for a kennel, and as the land is too poor and sandy for
cropping, Mr. Neigh let him have it. 'Tis his hounds that you hear
howling.'
They passed on. 'Berta, why did we come down here?' said Picotee.
'To see the nakedness of the land. It was a whim only, and as it
will end in nothing, it is not worth while for me to make further
explanation.'
It was with a curious sense of renunciation that Ethelberta went
homeward. Neigh was handsome, grim-natured, rather wicked, and an
indifferentist; and these attractions interested her as a woman.
But the news of this evening suggested to Ethelberta that herself
and Neigh were too nearly cattle of one colour for a confession on
the matter of lineage to be well received by him; and without
confidence of every sort on the nature of her situation, she was
determined to contract no union at all. The sympathy of unlikeness
might lead the scion of some family, hollow and fungous with
antiquity, and as yet unmarked by a mesalliance, to be won over by
her story; but the antipathy of resemblance would be ineradicable.
