He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (books you need to read .txt) 📕

DARTMOOR

The well-weighed decision of Miss Stanbury respecting the Stanbury

Trevelyan arrangement at Nuncombe Putney had been communicated to

Dorothy as the two walked home at night across the Close from Mrs

MacHugh’s house, and it was accepted by Dorothy as being wise and

proper. It amounted to this. If Mrs Trevelyan should behave herself

with propriety in her retirement at the Clock House, no further blame

in the matter should be attributed to Mrs Stanbury for receiving her at

any rate in Dorothy’s hearing. The existing scheme, whether wise or

foolish, should be regarded as an accepted scheme. But if Mrs Trevelyan

should be indiscreet if, for instance, Colonel Osborne should show

himself at Nuncombe Putney then, for the sake of the family, Miss

Stanbury would speak out, and would speak out very loudly. All this

Dorothy understood, and she could perceive that her aunt had strong

suspicion that there would be indiscretion.

‘I never knew one like her,’ said Miss Stanbury, ‘who, when she’d got

away from one man, didn’t want to have another dangling after her.’

A week had hardly passed after the party at Mrs MacHugh’s, and Mrs

Trevelyan had hardly been three weeks at Nuncombe Putney, before the

tidings which Miss Stanbury almost expected reached her ears.

‘The Colonel’s been at the Clock House, ma’am,’ said Martha.

Now, it was quite understood in the Close by this time that ‘the

Colonel’ meant Colonel Osborne.

‘No!’

‘I’m told he has though, ma’am, for sure and certain.’

‘Who says so?’

‘Giles Hickbody was down at Lessboro’, and see’d him hisself a portly,

middle-aged man not one of your young scampish-like lovers.’

‘That’s the man.’

‘Oh, yes. He went over to Nuncombe Putney, as sure as anything hired

Mrs Clegg’s chaise and pair, and asked for Mrs Trevelyan’s house as

open as anything. When Giles asked in the yard, they told him as how

that was the married lady’s young man.’

‘I’d like to be at his tail so I would with a mop-handle,’ said Miss

Stanbury, whose hatred for those sins by which the comfort and

respectability of the world are destroyed, was not only sincere, but

intense. ‘Well; and what then?’

‘He came back and slept at Mrs Clegg’s that night at least, that was

what he said he should do.’

Miss Stanbury, however, was not so precipitate or uncharitable as to

act strongly upon information such as this. Before she even said a word

to Dorothy, she made further inquiry. She made very minute inquiry,

writing even to her very old and intimate friend Mrs Ellison, of

Lessboro’ writing to that lady a most cautious and guarded letter. At

last it became a fact proved to her mind that Colonel Osborne had been

at the Clock House, had been received there, and had remained there for

hours had been allowed access to Mrs Trevelyan, and had slept the night

at the inn at Lessboro’. The thing was so terrible to Miss Stanbury’s

mind, that even false hair, Dr Colenso, and penny newspapers did not

account for it.

‘I shall begin to believe that the Evil One has been allowed to come

among us in person because of our sins,’ she said to Martha and she

meant it.

In the meantime, Mrs Trevelyan, as may be remembered, had hired Mrs

Crocket’s open carriage, and the three young women, Mrs Trevelyan,

Nora, and Priscilla, made a little excursion to Princetown, somewhat

after the fashion of a picnic. At Princetown, in the middle of

Dartmoor, about nine miles from Nuncombe Putney, is the prison

establishment at which are kept convicts undergoing penal servitude. It

is regarded by all the country round with great interest, chiefly

because the prisoners now and again escape, and then there comes a

period of interesting excitement until the escaped felon shall have

been again taken. How can you tell where he may be, or whether it may

not suit him to find his rest in your own cupboard, or under your own

bed? And then, as escape without notice will of course be the felon’s

object, to attain that he will probably cut your throat, and the throat

of everybody belonging to you. All which considerations give an

interest to Princetown, and excite in the hearts of the Devonians of

these parts a strong affection for the Dartmoor prison. Of those who

visit Princetown comparatively few effect an entrance within the walls

of the gaol. They look at the gloomy place with a mysterious interest,

feeling something akin to envy for the prisoners who have enjoyed the

privilege of solving the mysteries of prison life, and who know how men

feel when they have their hair cut short, and are free from moral

responsibility for their own conduct, and are moved about in gangs, and

treated like wild beasts.

But the journey to Princetown, from whatever side it is approached, has

the charm of wild and beautiful scenery. The spot itself is ugly

enough; but you can go not thither without breathing the sweetest,

freshest air, and encountering that delightful sense of romance which

moorland scenery always produces. The idea of our three friends was to

see the Moor rather than the prison, to learn something of the country

around, and to enjoy the excitement of eating a sandwich sitting on a

hillock, in exchange for the ordinary comforts of a good dinner with

chairs and tables. A bottle of sherry and water and a paper of

sandwiches contained their whole banquet; for ladies, though they like

good things at picnics, and, indeed, at other times, almost as well as

men like them, very seldom prepare dainties for themselves alone. Men

are wiser and more thoughtful, and are careful to have the good things,

even if they are to be enjoyed without companionship.

Mrs Crocket’s boy, though he was only about three feet high, was a

miracle of skill and discretion. He used the machine, as the patent

drag is called, in going down the hills with the utmost care. He never

forced the beast beyond a walk if there was the slightest rise in the

ground; and as there was always a rise, the journey was slow. But the

three ladies enjoyed it thoroughly, and Mrs Trevelyan was in better

spirits than she herself had thought to be possible for her in her

present condition. Most of us have recognised the fact that a dram of

spirits will create, that a so-called nip of brandy will create

hilarity, or, at least, alacrity, and that a glass of sherry will often

‘pick up’ and set in order the prostrate animal and mental faculties of

the drinker. But we are not sufficiently alive to the fact that copious

draughts of fresh air—of air fresh and unaccustomed—will have precisely

the same effect. We do know that now and again it is very essential to

‘change the air’; but we generally consider that to do that with any

chance of advantage, it is necessary to go far afield; and we think

also that such change of the air is only needful when sickness of the

body has come upon us, or when it threatens to come. We are seldom

aware that we may imbibe long potations of pleasure and healthy

excitement without perhaps going out of our own county; that such

potations are within a day’s journey of most of us; and that they are

to be had for half-a-crown a head, all expenses told. Mrs Trevelyan

probably did not know that the cloud was lifted off her mind, and the

load of her sorrow made light to her, by the special vigour of the air

of the Moor; but she did know that she was enjoying herself, and that

the world was pleasanter to her than it had been for months past.

When they had sat upon their hillocks, and eaten their sandwiches

regretting that the basket of provisions had not been bigger and had

drunk their sherry and water out of the little horn mug which Mrs

Crocket had lent them, Nora started off across the moorland