Cousin Phillis (7 page)

'Manning,' said he, 'I see you don't think I am half good enough for
your friends. Out with it, man.'

'No,' I replied, boldly. 'I think you are good; but I don't know if you
are quite of their kind of goodness.'

'And you've found out already that there is greater chance of
disagreement between two "kinds of goodness", each having its own idea
of right, than between a given goodness and a moderate degree of
naughtiness—which last often arises from an indifference to right?'

'I don't know. I think you're talking metaphysics, and I am sure that
is bad for you.'

'"When a man talks to you in a way that you don't understand about a
thing which he does not understand, them's metaphysics." You remember
the clown's definition, don't you, Manning?'

'No, I don't,' said I. 'But what I do understand is, that you must go
to bed; and tell me at what time we must start tomorrow, that I may go
to Hepworth, and get those letters written we were talking about this
morning.'

'Wait till to-morrow, and let us see what the day is like,' he
answered, with such languid indecision as showed me he was
over-fatigued. So I went my way. The morrow was blue and sunny, and
beautiful; the very perfection of an early summer's day. Mr Holdsworth
was all Impatience to be off into the country; morning had brought back
his freshness and strength, and consequent eagerness to be doing. I was
afraid we were going to my cousin's farm rather too early, before they
would expect us; but what could I do with such a restless vehement man
as Holdsworth was that morning? We came down upon the Hope Farm before
the dew was off the grass on the shady side of the lane; the great
house-dog was loose, basking in the sun, near the closed side door. I
was surprised at this door being shut, for all summer long it was open
from morning to night; but it was only on latch. I opened it, Rover
watching me with half-suspicious, half-trustful eyes. The room was
empty.

'I don't know where they can be,' said I. 'But come in and sit down
while I go and look for them. You must be tired.'

'Not I. This sweet balmy air is like a thousand tonics. Besides, this
room is hot, and smells of those pungent wood-ashes. What are we to do?'

'Go round to the kitchen. Betty will tell us where they are.' So we
went round into the farmyard, Rover accompanying us out of a grave
sense of duty. Betty was washing out her milk-pans in the cold bubbling
spring-water that constantly trickled in and out of a stone trough. In
such weather as this most of her kitchen-work was done out of doors.

'Eh, dear!' said she, 'the minister and missus is away at Hornby! They
ne'er thought of your coming so betimes! The missus had some errands to
do, and she thought as she'd walk with the minister and be back by
dinner-time.'

'Did not they expect us to dinner?' said I.

'Well, they did, and they did not, as I may say. Missus said to me the
cold lamb would do well enough if you did not come; and if you did I
was to put on a chicken and some bacon to boil; and I'll go do it now,
for it is hard to boil bacon enough.'

'And is Phillis gone, too?' Mr Holdsworth was making friends with Rover.

'No! She's just somewhere about. I reckon you'll find her in the
kitchen-garden, getting peas.

'Let us go there,' said Holsworth, suddenly leaving off his play with
the dog. So I led the way into the kitchen-garden. It was in the first
promise of a summer profuse in vegetables and fruits. Perhaps it was
not so much cared for as other parts of the property; but it was more
attended to than most kitchen-gardens belonging to farm-houses. There
were borders of flowers along each side of the gravel walks; and there
was an old sheltering wail on the north side covered with tolerably
choice fruit-trees; there was a slope down to the fish-pond at the end,
where there were great strawberry-beds; and raspberry-bushes and
rose-bushes grew wherever there was a space; it seemed a chance which
had been planted. Long rows of peas stretched at right angles from the
main walk, and I saw Phillis stooping down among them, before she saw
us. As soon as she heard our cranching steps on the gravel, she stood
up, and shading her eyes from the sun, recognized us. She was quite
still for a moment, and then came slowly towards us, blushing a little
from evident shyness. I had never seen Phillis shy before.

'This is Mr Holdsworth, Phillis,' said I, as soon as I had shaken hands
with her. She glanced up at him, and then looked down, more flushed
than ever at his grand formality of taking his hat off and bowing; such
manners had never been seen at Hope Farm before.

'Father and mother are out. They will be so sorry; you did not write,
Paul, as you said you would.'

'It was my fault,' said Holdsworth, understanding what she meant as
well as if she had put it more fully into words. 'I have not yet given
up all the privileges of an invalid; one of which is indecision. Last
night, when your cousin asked me at what time we were to start, I
really could not make up my mind.'

Phillis seemed as if she could not make up her mind as to what to do
with us. I tried to help her,—

'Have you finished getting peas?' taking hold of the half-filled basket
she was unconsciously holding in her hand; 'or may we stay and help
you?'

'If you would. But perhaps it will tire you, sir?' added she, speaking
now to Holdsworth.

'Not a bit,' said he. 'It will carry me back twenty years in my life,
when I used to gather peas in my grandfather's garden. I suppose I may
eat a few as I go along?'

'Certainly, sir. But if you went to the strawberry-beds you would find
some strawberries ripe, and Paul can show you where they are.'

'I am afraid you distrust me. I can assure you I know the exact fulness
at which peas should be gathered. I take great care not to pluck them
when they are unripe. I will not be turned off, as unfit for my work.'
This was a style of half-joking talk that Phillis was not accustomed
to. She looked for a moment as if she would have liked to defend
herself from the playful charge of distrust made against her, but she
ended by not saying a word. We all plucked our peas in busy silence for
the next five minutes. Then Holdsworth lifted himself up from between
the rows, and said, a little wearily,

'I am afraid I must strike work. I am not as strong as I fancied
myself.' Phillis was full of penitence immediately. He did, indeed,
look pale; and she blamed herself for having allowed him to help her.

'It was very thoughtless of me. I did not know—I thought, perhaps, you
really liked it. I ought to have offered you something to eat, sir! Oh,
Paul, we have gathered quite enough; how stupid I was to forget that Mr
Holdsworth had been ill!' And in a blushing hurry she led the way
towards the house. We went in, and she moved a heavy cushioned chair
forwards, into which Holdsworth was only too glad to sink. Then with
deft and quiet speed she brought in a little tray, wine, water, cake,
home-made bread, and newly-churned butter. She stood by in some anxiety
till, after bite and sup, the colour returned to Mr Holdsworth's face,
and he would fain have made us some laughing apologies for the fright
he had given us. But then Phillis drew back from her innocent show of
care and interest, and relapsed into the cold shyness habitual to her
when she was first thrown into the company of strangers. She brought
out the last week's county paper (which Mr Holdsworth had read five
days ago), and then quietly withdrew; and then he subsided into
languor, leaning back and shutting his eyes as if he would go to sleep.
I stole into the kitchen after Phillis; but she had made the round of
the corner of the house outside, and I found her sitting on the
horse-mount, with her basket of peas, and a basin into which she was
shelling them. Rover lay at her feet, snapping now and then at the
flies. I went to her, and tried to help her, but somehow the sweet
crisp young peas found their way more frequently into my mouth than
into the basket, while we talked together in a low tone, fearful of
being overheard through the open casements of the house-place in which
Holdsworth was resting.

'Don't you think him handsome?' asked I.

'Perhaps—yes—I have hardly looked at him,' she replied 'But is not he
very like a foreigner?'

'Yes, he cuts his hair foreign fashion,' said I.

'I like an Englishman to look like an Englishman.'

'I don't think he thinks about it. He says he began that way when he
was in Italy, because everybody wore it so, and it is natural to keep
it on in England.'

'Not if he began it in Italy because everybody there wore it so.
Everybody here wears it differently.'

I was a little offended with Phillis's logical fault-finding with my
friend; and I determined to change the subject.

'When is your mother coming home?'

'I should think she might come any time now; but she had to go and see
Mrs Morton, who was ill, and she might be kept, and not be home till
dinner. Don't you think you ought to go and see how Mr Holdsworth is
going on, Paul? He may be faint again.'

I went at her bidding; but there was no need for it. Mr Holdsworth was
up, standing by the window, his hands in his pockets; he had evidently
been watching us. He turned away as I entered.

'So that is the girl I found your good father planning for your wife,
Paul, that evening when I interrupted you! Are you of the same coy mind
still? It did not look like it a minute ago.'

'Phillis and I understand each other,' I replied, sturdily. 'We are
like brother and sister. She would not have me as a husband if there
was not another man in the world; and it would take a deal to make me
think of her—as my father wishes' (somehow I did not like to say 'as a
wife'), 'but we love each other dearly.'

'Well, I am rather surprised at it—not at your loving each other in a
brother-and-sister kind of way—but at your finding it so impossible to
fall in love with such a beautiful woman.' Woman! beautiful woman! I
had thought of Phillis as a comely but awkward girl; and I could not
banish the pinafore from my mind's eye when I tried to picture her to
myself. Now I turned, as Mr Holdsworth had done, to look at her again
out of the window: she had just finished her task, and was standing up,
her back to us, holding the basket, and the basin in it, high in air,
out of Rover's reach, who was giving vent to his delight at the
probability of a change of place by glad leaps and barks, and snatches
at what he imagined to be a withheld prize. At length she grew tired of
their mutual play, and with a feint of striking him, and a 'Down,
Rover! do hush!' she looked towards the window where we were standing,
as if to reassure herself that no one had been disturbed by the noise,
and seeing us, she coloured all over, and hurried away, with Rover
still curving in sinuous lines about her as she walked.

'I should like to have sketched her,' said Mr Holdsworth, as he turned
away. He went back to his chair, and rested in silence for a minute or
two. Then he was up again.

'I would give a good deal for a book,' he said. 'It would keep me
quiet.' He began to look round; there were a few volumes at one end of
the shovel-board. 'Fifth volume of Matthew Henry's Commentary,' said
he, reading their titles aloud. 'Housewife's complete Manual; Berridge
on Prayer; L'Inferno—Dante!' in great surprise. 'Why, who reads this?'

'I told you Phillis read it. Don't you remember? She knows Latin and
Greek, too.'

'To be sure! I remember! But somehow I never put two and two together.
That quiet girl, full of household work, is the wonderful scholar,
then, that put you to rout with her questions when you first began to
come here. To be sure, "Cousin Phillis!" What's here: a paper with the
hard, obsolete words written out. I wonder what sort of a dictionary
she has got. Baretti won't tell her all these words. Stay! I have got a
pencil here. I'll write down the most accepted meanings, and save her a
little trouble.'

So he took her book and the paper back to the little round table, and
employed himself in writing explanations and definitions of the words
which had troubled her. I was not sure if he was not taking a liberty:
it did not quite please me, and yet I did not know why. He had only
just done, and replaced the paper in the book, and put the latter back
in its place, when I heard the sound of wheels stopping in the lane,
and looking out, I saw cousin Holman getting out of a neighbour's gig,
making her little curtsey of acknowledgment, and then coming towards
the house. I went to meet her.

'Oh, Paul!' said she, 'I am so sorry I was kept; and then Thomas Dobson
said if I would wait a quarter of an hour he would—But where's your
friend Mr Holdsworth? I hope he is come?'

Just then he came out, and with his pleasant cordial manner took her
hand, and thanked her for asking him to come out here to get strong.

'I'm sure I am very glad to see you, sir. It was the minister's
thought. I took it into my head you would be dull in our quiet house,
for Paul says you've been such a great traveller; but the minister said
that dulness would perhaps suit you while you were but ailing, and that
I was to ask Paul to be here as much as he could. I hope you'll find
yourself happy with us, I'm sure, sir. Has Phillis given you something
to eat and drink, I wonder? there's a deal in eating a little often, if
one has to get strong after an illness.' And then she began to question
him as to the details of his indisposition in her simple, motherly way.
He seemed at once to understand her, and to enter into friendly
relations with her. It was not quite the same in the evening when the
minister came home. Men have always a little natural antipathy to get
over when they first meet as strangers. But in this case each was
disposed to make an effort to like the other; only each was to each a
specimen of an unknown class. I had to leave the Hope Farm on Sunday
afternoon, as I had Mr Holdsworth's work as well as my own to look to
in Eltham; and I was not at all sure how things would go on during the
week that Holdsworth was to remain on his visit; I had been once or
twice in hot water already at the near clash of opinions between the
minister and my much-vaunted friend. On the Wednesday I received a
short note from Holdsworth; he was going to stay on, and return with me
on the following Sunday, and he wanted me to send him a certain list of
books, his theodolite, and other surveying instruments, all of which
could easily be conveyed down the line to Heathbridge. I went to his
lodgings and picked out the books. Italian, Latin, trigonometry; a
pretty considerable parcel they made, besides the implements. I began
to be curious as to the general progress of affairs at Hope Farm, but I
could not go over till the Saturday. At Heathbridge I found Holdsworth,
come to meet me. He was looking quite a different man to what I had
left him; embrowned, sparkles in his eyes, so languid before. I told
him how much stronger he looked.