V
It was late in the afternoon when the carriage containing little
Lord Fauntleroy and Mr. Havisham drove up the long avenue which
led to the castle. The Earl had given orders that his grandson
should arrive in time to dine with him; and for some reason best
known to himself, he had also ordered that the child should be
sent alone into the room in which he intended to receive him. As
the carriage rolled up the avenue, Lord Fauntleroy sat leaning
comfortably against the luxurious cushions, and regarded the
prospect with great interest. He was, in fact, interested in
everything he saw. He had been interested in the carriage, with
its large, splendid horses and their glittering harness; he had
been interested in the tall coachman and footman, with their
resplendent livery; and he had been especially interested in the
coronet on the panels, and had struck up an acquaintance with the
footman for the purpose of inquiring what it meant.
When the carriage reached the great gates of the park, he looked
out of the window to get a good view of the huge stone lions
ornamenting the entrance. The gates were opened by a motherly,
rosy-looking woman, who came out of a pretty, ivy-covered lodge.
Two children ran out of the door of the house and stood looking
with round, wide-open eyes at the little boy in the carriage, who
looked at them also. Their mother stood courtesying and smiling,
and the children, on receiving a sign from her, made bobbing
little courtesies too.
"Does she know me?" asked Lord Fauntleroy. "I think she must
think she knows me." And he took off his black velvet cap to her
and smiled.
"How do you do?" he said brightly. "Good-afternoon!"
The woman seemed pleased, he thought. The smile broadened on her
rosy face and a kind look came into her blue eyes.
"God bless your lordship!" she said. "God bless your pretty
face! Good luck and happiness to your lordship! Welcome to
you!"
Lord Fauntleroy waved his cap and nodded to her again as the
carriage rolled by her.
"I like that woman," he said. "She looks as if she liked
boys. I should like to come here and play with her children. I
wonder if she has enough to make up a company?"
Mr. Havisham did not tell him that he would scarcely be allowed
to make playmates of the gate-keeper's children. The lawyer
thought there was time enough for giving him that information.
The carriage rolled on and on between the great, beautiful trees
which grew on each side of the avenue and stretched their broad,
swaying branches in an arch across it. Cedric had never seen
such trees,--they were so grand and stately, and their branches
grew so low down on their huge trunks. He did not then know that
Dorincourt Castle was one of the most beautiful in all England;
that its park was one of the broadest and finest, and its trees
and avenue almost without rivals. But he did know that it was
all very beautiful. He liked the big, broad-branched trees, with
the late afternoon sunlight striking golden lances through them.
He liked the perfect stillness which rested on everything. He
felt a great, strange pleasure in the beauty of which he caught
glimpses under and between the sweeping boughs--the great,
beautiful spaces of the park, with still other trees standing
sometimes stately and alone, and sometimes in groups. Now and
then they passed places where tall ferns grew in masses, and
again and again the ground was azure with the bluebells swaying
in the soft breeze. Several times he started up with a laugh of
delight as a rabbit leaped up from under the greenery and scudded
away with a twinkle of short white tail behind it. Once a covey
of partridges rose with a sudden whir and flew away, and then he
shouted and clapped his hands.
"It's a beautiful place, isn't it?" he said to Mr. Havisham.
"I never saw such a beautiful place. It's prettier even than
Central Park."
He was rather puzzled by the length of time they were on their
way.
"How far is it," he said, at length, "from the gate to the
front door?"
"It is between three and four miles," answered the lawyer.
"That's a long way for a person to live from his gate,"
remarked his lordship.
Every few minutes he saw something new to wonder at and admire.
When he caught sight of the deer, some couched in the grass, some
standing with their pretty antlered heads turned with a
half-startled air toward the avenue as the carriage wheels
disturbed them, he was enchanted.
"Has there been a circus?" he cried; "or do they live here
always? Whose are they?"
"They live here," Mr. Havisham told him. "They belong to the
Earl, your grandfather."
It was not long after this that they saw the castle. It rose up
before them stately and beautiful and gray, the last rays of the
sun casting dazzling lights on its many windows. It had turrets
and battlements and towers; a great deal of ivy grew upon its
walls; all the broad, open space about it was laid out in
terraces and lawns and beds of brilliant flowers.
"It's the most beautiful place I ever saw!" said Cedric, his
round face flushing with pleasure. "It reminds any one of a
king's palace. I saw a picture of one once in a fairy-book."
He saw the great entrance-door thrown open and many servants
standing in two lines looking at him. He wondered why they were
standing there, and admired their liveries very much. He did not
know that they were there to do honor to the little boy to whom
all this splendor would one day belong,--the beautiful castle
like the fairy king's palace, the magnificent park, the grand old
trees, the dells full of ferns and bluebells where the hares and
rabbits played, the dappled, large-eyed deer couching in the deep
grass. It was only a couple of weeks since he had sat with Mr.
Hobbs among the potatoes and canned peaches, with his legs
dangling from the high stool; it would not have been possible for
him to realize that he had very much to do with all this
grandeur. At the head of the line of servants there stood an
elderly woman in a rich, plain black silk gown; she had gray hair
and wore a cap. As he entered the hall she stood nearer than the
rest, and the child thought from the look in her eyes that she
was going to speak to him. Mr. Havisham, who held his hand,
paused a moment.
"This is Lord Fauntleroy, Mrs. Mellon," he said. "Lord
Fauntleroy, this is Mrs. Mellon, who is the housekeeper."
Cedric gave her his hand, his eyes lighting up.
"Was it you who sent the cat?" he said. "I'm much obliged to
you, ma'am."
Mrs. Mellon's handsome old face looked as pleased as the face of
the lodge-keeper's wife had done.
"I should know his lordship anywhere," she said to Mr.
Havisham. "He has the Captain's face and way. It's a great
day, this, sir."
Cedric wondered why it was a great day. He looked at Mrs. Mellon
curiously. It seemed to him for a moment as if there were tears
in her eyes, and yet it was evident she was not unhappy. She
smiled down on him.
"The cat left two beautiful kittens here," she said; "they
shall be sent up to your lordship's nursery."
Mr. Havisham said a few words to her in a low voice.
"In the library, sir," Mrs. Mellon replied. "His lordship is
to be taken there alone."
A few minutes later, the very tall footman in livery, who had
escorted Cedric to the library door, opened it and announced:
"Lord Fauntleroy, my lord," in quite a majestic tone. If he
was only a footman, he felt it was rather a grand occasion when
the heir came home to his own land and possessions, and was
ushered into the presence of the old Earl, whose place and title
he was to take.
Cedric crossed the threshold into the room. It was a very large
and splendid room, with massive carven furniture in it, and
shelves upon shelves of books; the furniture was so dark, and the
draperies so heavy, the diamond-paned windows were so deep, and
it seemed such a distance from one end of it to the other, that,
since the sun had gone down, the effect of it all was rather
gloomy. For a moment Cedric thought there was nobody in the
room, but soon he saw that by the fire burning on the wide hearth
there was a large easy-chair and that in that chair some one was
sitting--some one who did not at first turn to look at him.
But he had attracted attention in one quarter at least. On the
floor, by the arm-chair, lay a dog, a huge tawny mastiff, with
body and limbs almost as big as a lion's; and this great creature
rose majestically and slowly, and marched toward the little
fellow with a heavy step.
Then the person in the chair spoke. "Dougal," he called,
"come back, sir."
But there was no more fear in little Lord Fauntleroy's heart than
there was unkindness--he had been a brave little fellow all his
life. He put his hand on the big dog's collar in the most
natural way in the world, and they strayed forward together,
Dougal sniffing as he went.
And then the Earl looked up. What Cedric saw was a large old man
with shaggy white hair and eyebrows, and a nose like an eagle's
beak between his deep, fierce eyes. What the Earl saw was a
graceful, childish figure in a black velvet suit, with a lace
collar, and with love-locks waving about the handsome, manly
little face, whose eyes met his with a look of innocent
good-fellowship. If the Castle was like the palace in a fairy
story, it must be owned that little Lord Fauntleroy was himself
rather like a small copy of the fairy prince, though he was not
at all aware of the fact, and perhaps was rather a sturdy young
model of a fairy. But there was a sudden glow of triumph and
exultation in the fiery old Earl's heart as he saw what a strong,
beautiful boy this grandson was, and how unhesitatingly he looked
up as he stood with his hand on the big dog's neck. It pleased
the grim old nobleman that the child should show no shyness or
fear, either of the dog or of himself.
Cedric looked at him just as he had looked at the woman at the
lodge and at the housekeeper, and came quite close to him.
"Are you the Earl?" he said. "I'm your grandson, you know,
that Mr. Havisham brought. I'm Lord Fauntleroy."
He held out his hand because he thought it must be the polite and
proper thing to do even with earls. "I hope you are very
well," he continued, with the utmost friendliness. "I'm very
glad to see you."
The Earl shook hands with him, with a curious gleam in his eyes;
just at first, he was so astonished that he scarcely knew what to
say. He stared at the picturesque little apparition from under
his shaggy brows, and took it all in from head to foot.
"Glad to see me, are you?" he said.
"Yes," answered Lord Fauntleroy, "very."
There was a chair near him, and he sat down on it; it was a
high-backed, rather tall chair, and his feet did not touch the
floor when he had settled himself in it, but he seemed to be
quite comfortable as he sat there, and regarded his august
relative intently but modestly.
"I've kept wondering what you would look like," he remarked.
"I used to lie in my berth in the ship and wonder if you would
be anything like my father."
"Am I?" asked the Earl.
"Well," Cedric replied, "I was very young when he died, and I
may not remember exactly how he looked, but I don't think you are
like him."
"You are disappointed, I suppose?" suggested his grandfather.
"Oh, no," responded Cedric politely. "Of course you would
like any one to look like your father; but of course you would
enjoy the way your grandfather looked, even if he wasn't like
your father. You know how it is yourself about admiring your
relations."
The Earl leaned back in his chair and stared. He could not be
said to know how it was about admiring his relations. He had
employed most of his noble leisure in quarreling violently with
them, in turning them out of his house, and applying abusive
epithets to them; and they all hated him cordially.
"Any boy would love his grandfather," continued Lord
Fauntleroy, "especially one that had been as kind to him as you
have been."
Another queer gleam came into the old nobleman's eyes.
"Oh!" he said, "I have been kind to you, have I?"
"Yes," answered Lord Fauntleroy brightly; "I'm ever so much
obliged to you about Bridget, and the apple-woman, and Dick."
"Bridget!" exclaimed the Earl. "Dick! The apple-woman!"
"Yes!" explained Cedric; "the ones you gave me all that money
for--the money you told Mr. Havisham to give me if I wanted it."
"Ha!" ejaculated his lordship. "That's it, is it? The money
you were to spend as you liked. What did you buy with it? I
should like to hear something about that."
He drew his shaggy eyebrows together and looked at the child
sharply. He was secretly curious to know in what way the lad had
indulged himself.
"Oh!" said Lord Fauntleroy, "perhaps you didn't know about
Dick and the apple-woman and Bridget. I forgot you lived such a
long way off from them. They were particular friends of mine.
And you see Michael had the fever----"
"Who's Michael?" asked the Earl.
"Michael is Bridget's husband, and they were in great trouble.
When a man is sick and can't work and has twelve children, you
know how it is. And Michael has always been a sober man. And
Bridget used to come to our house and cry. And the evening Mr.
Havisham was there, she was in the kitchen crying, because they
had almost nothing to eat and couldn't pay the rent; and I went
in to see her, and Mr. Havisham sent for me and he said you had
given him some money for me. And I ran as fast as I could into
the kitchen and gave it to Bridget; and that made it all right;
and Bridget could scarcely believe her eyes. That's why I'm so
obliged to you."
"Oh!" said the Earl in his deep voice, "that was one of the
things you did for yourself, was it? What else?"
Dougal had been sitting by the tall chair; the great dog had
taken its place there when Cedric sat down. Several times it had
turned and looked up at the boy as if interested in the
conversation. Dougal was a solemn dog, who seemed to feel
altogether too big to take life's responsibilities lightly. The
old Earl, who knew the dog well, had watched it with secret
interest. Dougal was not a dog whose habit it was to make
acquaintances rashly, and the Earl wondered somewhat to see how
quietly the brute sat under the touch of the childish hand. And,
just at this moment, the big dog gave little Lord Fauntleroy one
more look of dignified scrutiny, and deliberately laid its huge,
lion-like head on the boy's black-velvet knee.
The small hand went on stroking this new friend as Cedric
answered:
"Well, there was Dick," he said. "You'd like Dick, he's so
square."
This was an Americanism the Earl was not prepared for.
"What does that mean?" he inquired.
Lord Fauntleroy paused a moment to reflect. He was not very sure
himself what it meant. He had taken it for granted as meaning
something very creditable because Dick had been fond of using it.
"I think it means that he wouldn't cheat any one," he
exclaimed; "or hit a boy who was under his size, and that he
blacks people's boots very well and makes them shine as much as
he can. He's a perfessional bootblack."
"And he's one of your acquaintances, is he?" said the Earl.
"He is an old friend of mine," replied his grandson. "Not
quite as old as Mr. Hobbs, but quite old. He gave me a present
just before the ship sailed."
He put his hand into his pocket and drew forth a neatly folded
red object and opened it with an air of affectionate pride. It
was the red silk handkerchief with the large purple horse-shoes
and heads on it.
"He gave me this," said his young lordship. "I shall keep it
always. You can wear it round your neck or keep it in your
pocket. He bought it with the first money he earned after I
bought Jake out and gave him the new brushes. It's a keepsake.
I put some poetry in Mr. Hobbs's watch. It was, `When this you
see, remember me.' When this I see, I shall always remember
Dick."
The sensations of the Right Honorable the Earl of Dorincourt
could scarcely be described. He was not an old nobleman who was
very easily bewildered, because he had seen a great deal of the
world; but here was something he found so novel that it almost
took his lordly breath away, and caused him some singular
emotions. He had never cared for children; he had been so
occupied with his own pleasures that he had never had time to
care for them. His own sons had not interested him when they
were very young--though sometimes he remembered having thought
Cedric's father a handsome and strong little fellow. He had been
so selfish himself that he had missed the pleasure of seeing
unselfishness in others, and he had not known how tender and
faithful and affectionate a kind-hearted little child can be, and
how innocent and unconscious are its simple, generous impulses.
A boy had always seemed to him a most objectionable little
animal, selfish and greedy and boisterous when not under strict
restraint; his own two eldest sons had given their tutors
constant trouble and annoyance, and of the younger one he fancied
he had heard few complaints because the boy was of no particular
importance. It had never once occurred to him that he should
like his grandson; he had sent for the little Cedric because his
pride impelled him to do so. If the boy was to take his place in
the future, he did not wish his name to be made ridiculous by
descending to an uneducated boor. He had been convinced the boy
would be a clownish fellow if he were brought up in America. He
had no feeling of affection for the lad; his only hope was that
he should find him decently well-featured, and with a respectable
share of sense; he had been so disappointed in his other sons,
and had been made so furious by Captain Errol's American
marriage, that he had never once thought that anything creditable
could come of it. When the footman had announced Lord
Fauntleroy, he had almost dreaded to look at the boy lest he
should find him all that he had feared. It was because of this
feeling that he had ordered that the child should be sent to him
alone. His pride could not endure that others should see his
disappointment if he was to be disappointed. His proud, stubborn
old heart therefore had leaped within him when the boy came
forward with his graceful, easy carriage, his fearless hand on
the big dog's neck. Even in the moments when he had hoped the
most, the Earl had never hoped that his grandson would look like
that. It seemed almost too good to be true that this should be
the boy he had dreaded to see--the child of the woman he so
disliked--this little fellow with so much beauty and such a
brave, childish grace! The Earl's stern composure was quite
shaken by this startling surprise.
And then their talk began; and he was still more curiously moved,
and more and more puzzled. In the first place, he was so used to
seeing people rather afraid and embarrassed before him, that he
had expected nothing else but that his grandson would be timid or
shy. But Cedric was no more afraid of the Earl than he had been
of Dougal. He was not bold; he was only innocently friendly, and
he was not conscious that there could be any reason why he should
be awkward or afraid. The Earl could not help seeing that the
little boy took him for a friend and treated him as one, without
having any doubt of him at all. It was quite plain as the little
fellow sat there in his tall chair and talked in his friendly way
that it had never occurred to him that this large, fierce-looking
old man could be anything but kind to him, and rather pleased to
see him there. And it was plain, too, that, in his childish way,
he wished to please and interest his grandfather. Cross, and
hard-hearted, and worldly as the old Earl was, he could not help
feeling a secret and novel pleasure in this very confidence.
After all, it was not disagreeable to meet some one who did not
distrust him or shrink from him, or seem to detect the ugly part
of his nature; some one who looked at him with clear,
unsuspecting eyes,--if it was only a little boy in a black velvet
suit.
So the old man leaned back in his chair, and led his young
companion on to telling him still more of himself, and with that
odd gleam in his eyes watched the little fellow as he talked.
Lord Fauntleroy was quite willing to answer all his questions and
chatted on in his genial little way quite composedly. He told
him all about Dick and Jake, and the apple-woman, and Mr. Hobbs;
he described the Republican Rally in all the glory of its banners
and transparencies, torches and rockets. In the course of the
conversation, he reached the Fourth of July and the Revolution,
and was just becoming enthusiastic, when he suddenly recollected
something and stopped very abruptly.
"What is the matter?" demanded his grandfather. "Why don't
you go on?"
Lord Fauntleroy moved rather uneasily in his chair. It was
evident to the Earl that he was embarrassed by the thought which
had just occurred to him.
"I was just thinking that perhaps you mightn't like it," he
replied. "Perhaps some one belonging to you might have been
there. I forgot you were an Englishman."
"You can go on," said my lord. "No one belonging to me was
there. You forgot you were an Englishman, too."
"Oh! no," said Cedric quickly. "I'm an American!"
"You are an Englishman," said the Earl grimly. "Your father
was an Englishman."
It amused him a little to say this, but it did not amuse Cedric.
The lad had never thought of such a development as this. He felt
himself grow quite hot up to the roots of his hair.
"I was born in America," he protested. "You have to be an
American if you are born in America. I beg your pardon," with
serious politeness and delicacy, "for contradicting you. Mr.
Hobbs told me, if there were another war, you know, I should have
to--to be an American."
The Earl gave a grim half laugh--it was short and grim, but it
was a laugh.
"You would, would you?" he said.
He hated America and Americans, but it amused him to see how
serious and interested this small patriot was. He thought that
so good an American might make a rather good Englishman when he
was a man.
They had not time to go very deep into the Revolution again--and
indeed Lord Fauntleroy felt some delicacy about returning to the
subject--before dinner was announced.
Cedric left his chair and went to his noble kinsman. He looked
down at his gouty foot.
"Would you like me to help you?" he said politely. "You could
lean on me, you know. Once when Mr. Hobbs hurt his foot with a
potato-barrel rolling on it, he used to lean on me."
The big footman almost periled his reputation and his situation
by smiling. He was an aristocratic footman who had always lived
in the best of noble families, and he had never smiled; indeed,
he would have felt himself a disgraced and vulgar footman if he
had allowed himself to be led by any circumstance whatever into
such an indiscretion as a smile. But he had a very narrow
escape. He only just saved himself by staring straight over the
Earl's head at a very ugly picture.
The Earl looked his valiant young relative over from head to
foot.
"Do you think you could do it?" he asked gruffly.
"I THINK I could," said Cedric. "I'm strong. I'm seven, you
know. You could lean on your stick on one side, and on me on the
other. Dick says I've a good deal of muscle for a boy that's
only seven."
He shut his hand and moved it upward to his shoulder, so that the
Earl might see the muscle Dick had kindly approved of, and his
face was so grave and earnest that the footman found it necessary
to look very hard indeed at the ugly picture.
"Well," said the Earl, "you may try."
Cedric gave him his stick and began to assist him to rise.
Usually, the footman did this, and was violently sworn at when
his lordship had an extra twinge of gout. The Earl was not a
very polite person as a rule, and many a time the huge footmen
about him quaked inside their imposing liveries.
But this evening he did not swear, though his gouty foot gave him
more twinges than one. He chose to try an experiment. He got up
slowly and put his hand on the small shoulder presented to him
with so much courage. Little Lord Fauntleroy made a careful step
forward, looking down at the gouty foot.
"Just lean on me," he said, with encouraging good cheer.
"I'll walk very slowly."
If the Earl had been supported by the footman he would have
rested less on his stick and more on his assistant's arm. And
yet it was part of his experiment to let his grandson feel his
burden as no light weight. It was quite a heavy weight indeed,
and after a few steps his young lordship's face grew quite hot,
and his heart beat rather fast, but he braced himself sturdily,
remembering his muscle and Dick's approval of it.
"Don't be afraid of leaning on me," he panted. "I'm all
right--if--if it isn't a very long way."
It was not really very far to the dining-room, but it seemed
rather a long way to Cedric, before they reached the chair at the
head of the table. The hand on his shoulder seemed to grow
heavier at every step, and his face grew redder and hotter, and
his breath shorter, but he never thought of giving up; he
stiffened his childish muscles, held his head erect, and
encouraged the Earl as he limped along.
"Does your foot hurt you very much when you stand on it?" he
asked. "Did you ever put it in hot water and mustard? Mr.
Hobbs used to put his in hot water. Arnica is a very nice thing,
they tell me."
The big dog stalked slowly beside them, and the big footman
followed; several times he looked very queer as he watched the
little figure making the very most of all its strength, and
bearing its burden with such good-will. The Earl, too, looked
rather queer, once, as he glanced sidewise down at the flushed
little face. When they entered the room where they were to dine,
Cedric saw it was a very large and imposing one, and that the
footman who stood behind the chair at the head of the table
stared very hard as they came in.
But they reached the chair at last. The hand was removed from
his shoulder, and the Earl was fairly seated.
Cedric took out Dick's handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
"It's a warm night, isn't it?" he said. "Perhaps you need a
fire because--because of your foot, but it seems just a little
warm to me."
His delicate consideration for his noble relative's feelings was
such that he did not wish to seem to intimate that any of his
surroundings were unnecessary.
"You have been doing some rather hard work," said the Earl.
"Oh, no!" said Lord Fauntleroy, "it wasn't exactly hard, but I
got a little warm. A person will get warm in summer time."
And he rubbed his damp curls rather vigorously with the gorgeous
handkerchief. His own chair was placed at the other end of the
table, opposite his grandfather's. It was a chair with arms, and
intended for a much larger individual than himself; indeed,
everything he had seen so far,--the great rooms, with their high
ceilings, the massive furniture, the big footman, the big dog,
the Earl himself,--were all of proportions calculated to make
this little lad feel that he was very small, indeed. But that
did not trouble him; he had never thought himself very large or
important, and he was quite willing to accommodate himself even
to circumstances which rather overpowered him.
Perhaps he had never looked so little a fellow as when seated now
in his great chair, at the end of the table. Notwithstanding his
solitary existence, the Earl chose to live in some state. He was
fond of his dinner, and he dined in a formal style. Cedric
looked at him across a glitter of splendid glass and plate, which
to his unaccustomed eyes seemed quite dazzling. A stranger
looking on might well have smiled at the picture,--the great
stately room, the big liveried servants, the bright lights, the
glittering silver and glass, the fierce-looking old nobleman at
the head of the table and the very small boy at the foot. Dinner
was usually a very serious matter with the Earl--and it was a
very serious matter with the cook, if his lordship was not
pleased or had an indifferent appetite. To-day, however, his
appetite seemed a trifle better than usual, perhaps because he
had something to think of beside the flavor of the entrees and
the management of the gravies. His grandson gave him something
to think of. He kept looking at him across the table. He did
not say very much himself, but he managed to make the boy talk.
He had never imagined that he could be entertained by hearing a
child talk, but Lord Fauntleroy at once puzzled and amused him,
and he kept remembering how he had let the childish shoulder feel
his weight just for the sake of trying how far the boy's courage
and endurance would go, and it pleased him to know that his
grandson had not quailed and had not seemed to think even for a
moment of giving up what he had undertaken to do.
"You don't wear your coronet all the time?" remarked Lord
Fauntleroy respectfully.
"No," replied the Earl, with his grim smile; "it is not
becoming to me."
"Mr. Hobbs said you always wore it," said Cedric; "but after
he thought it over, he said he supposed you must sometimes take
it off to put your hat on."
"Yes," said the Earl, "I take it off occasionally."
And one of the footmen suddenly turned aside and gave a singular
little cough behind his hand.
Cedric finished his dinner first, and then he leaned back in his
chair and took a survey of the room.
"You must be very proud of your house," he said, "it's such a
beautiful house. I never saw anything so beautiful; but, of
course, as I'm only seven, I haven't seen much."
"And you think I must be proud of it, do you?" said the Earl.
"I should think any one would be proud of it," replied Lord
Fauntleroy. "I should be proud of it if it were my house.
Everything about it is beautiful. And the park, and those
trees,--how beautiful they are, and how the leaves rustle!"
Then he paused an instant and looked across the table rather
wistfully.
"It's a very big house for just two people to live in, isn't
it?" he said.
"It is quite large enough for two," answered the Earl. "Do
you find it too large?"
His little lordship hesitated a moment.
"I was only thinking," he said, "that if two people lived in
it who were not very good companions, they might feel lonely
sometimes."
"Do you think I shall make a good companion?" inquired the
Earl.
"Yes," replied Cedric, "I think you will. Mr. Hobbs and I
were great friends. He was the best friend I had except
Dearest."
The Earl made a quick movement of his bushy eyebrows.
"Who is Dearest?"
"She is my mother," said Lord Fauntleroy, in a rather low,
quiet little voice.
Perhaps he was a trifle tired, as his bed-time was nearing, and
perhaps after the excitement of the last few days it was natural
he should be tired, so perhaps, too, the feeling of weariness
brought to him a vague sense of loneliness in the remembrance
that to-night he was not to sleep at home, watched over by the
loving eyes of that "best friend" of his. They had always been
"best friends," this boy and his young mother. He could not
help thinking of her, and the more he thought of her the less was
he inclined to talk, and by the time the dinner was at an end the
Earl saw that there was a faint shadow on his face. But Cedric
bore himself with excellent courage, and when they went back to
the library, though the tall footman walked on one side of his
master, the Earl's hand rested on his grandson's shoulder, though
not so heavily as before.
When the footman left them alone, Cedric sat down upon the
hearth-rug near Dougal. For a few minutes he stroked the dog's
ears in silence and looked at the fire.
The Earl watched him. The boy's eyes looked wistful and
thoughtful, and once or twice he gave a little sigh. The Earl
sat still, and kept his eyes fixed on his grandson.
"Fauntleroy," he said at last, "what are you thinking of?"
Fauntleroy looked up with a manful effort at a smile.
"I was thinking about Dearest," he said; "and--and I think I'd
better get up and walk up and down the room."
He rose up, and put his hands in his small pockets, and began to
walk to and fro. His eyes were very bright, and his lips were
pressed together, but he kept his head up and walked firmly.
Dougal moved lazily and looked at him, and then stood up. He
walked over to the child, and began to follow him uneasily.
Fauntleroy drew one hand from his pocket and laid it on the dog's
head.
"He's a very nice dog," he said. "He's my friend. He knows
how I feel."
"How do you feel?" asked the Earl.
It disturbed him to see the struggle the little fellow was having
with his first feeling of homesickness, but it pleased him to see
that he was making so brave an effort to bear it well. He liked
this childish courage.
"Come here," he said.
Fauntleroy went to him.
"I never was away from my own house before," said the boy, with
a troubled look in his brown eyes. "It makes a person feel a
strange feeling when he has to stay all night in another person's
castle instead of in his own house. But Dearest is not very far
away from me. She told me to remember that--and--and I'm
seven--and I can look at the picture she gave me."
He put his hand in his pocket, and brought out a small violet
velvet-covered case.
"This is it," he said. "You see, you press this spring and it
opens, and she is in there!"
He had come close to the Earl's chair, and, as he drew forth the
little case, he leaned against the arm of it, and against the old
man's arm, too, as confidingly as if children had always leaned
there.
"There she is," he said, as the case opened; and he looked up
with a smile.
The Earl knitted his brows; he did not wish to see the picture,
but he looked at it in spite of himself; and there looked up at
him from it such a pretty young face--a face so like the child's
at his side--that it quite startled him.
"I suppose you think you are very fond of her," he said.
"Yes," answered Lord Fauntleroy, in a gentle tone, and with
simple directness; "I do think so, and I think it's true. You
see, Mr. Hobbs was my friend, and Dick and Bridget and Mary and
Michael, they were my friends, too; but Dearest--well, she is my
CLOSE friend, and we always tell each other everything. My
father left her to me to take care of, and when I am a man I am
going to work and earn money for her."
"What do you think of doing?" inquired his grandfather.
His young lordship slipped down upon the hearth-rug, and sat
there with the picture still in his hand. He seemed to be
reflecting seriously, before he answered.
"I did think perhaps I might go into business with Mr. Hobbs,"
he said; "but I should LIKE to be a President."
"We'll send you to the House of Lords instead," said his
grandfather.
"Well," remarked Lord Fauntleroy, "if I COULDN'T be a
President, and if that is a good business, I shouldn't mind. The
grocery business is dull sometimes."
Perhaps he was weighing the matter in his mind, for he sat very
quiet after this, and looked at the fire for some time.
The Earl did not speak again. He leaned back in his chair and
watched him. A great many strange new thoughts passed through
the old nobleman's mind. Dougal had stretched himself out and
gone to sleep with his head on his huge paws. There was a long
silence.
In about half an hour's time Mr. Havisham was ushered in. The
great room was very still when he entered. The Earl was still
leaning back in his chair. He moved as Mr. Havisham approached,
and held up his hand in a gesture of warning--it seemed as if he
had scarcely intended to make the gesture--as if it were almost
involuntary. Dougal was still asleep, and close beside the great
dog, sleeping also, with his curly head upon his arm, lay little
Lord Fauntleroy.
