The Children of the New Forest by Frederick Marryat (well read books .TXT) 📕

Edward arrived at the intendant’s house, he was very kindly received by the intendant and the two girls. Having deposited his wardrobe in his bedroom, he went out to Oswald and put Smoker in the kennel, and on his return found Pablo sitting on the carpet in the sitting-room, talking to Patience and Clara, and they all three appeared much amused. When Pablo and Billy had both had something to eat, the cart was filled with pots of flowers, and several, other little things as presents from Patience Heatherstone, and Pablo set off on his return.

“Well, Edward, you do look like a—” said Clara, stopping.

“Like a secretary, I hope,” added Edward.

“Well, you don’t look like a forester; does he, Patience?” continued Clara.

“You must not judge of people by their clothes, Clara.”

“Nor do I,” replied Clara. “Those clothes would not look well upon Oswald, or the other men, for they would not suit them; but they do suit you: don’t they, Patience?”

Patience Heatherstone, however, did not make any answer to this second appeal made by Clara.

“Why don’t you answer me, Patience?”, said Clara.

“My dear Clara, it’s not the custom for young maidens to make remarks upon people’s attire. Little girls like you may do so.”

“Why, did you not tell Pablo that he looked well in his new clothes?”

“Yes, but Pablo is not Mr. Armitage, Clara. That is very different.”

“Well, it may be, but still you might answer a question, if put to you, Patience: and I ask again, does not Edward look much better in the dress he has on than in the one that he has generally worn?”

“I think it a becoming dress, Clara, since you will have an answer.”

“Fine feathers make fine birds, Clara,” said Edward, laughing; “and so that is all we can say about it.”

Edward then changed the conversation. Soon afterward dinner was announced, and Clara again observed to Edward,

“Why do you always call Patience Mistress Heatherstone? Ought he not to call her Patience, sir?” said Clara, appealing to the intendant.

“That must depend upon his own feelings, my dear Clara,” replied Mr. Heatherstone. “It is my intention to wave ceremony as much as possible. Edward Armitage has come to live with us as one of the family, and he will find himself treated by me as one of us. I shall, therefore, in future address him as Edward; and he has my full permission, and I may say it is my wish, that he should be on the same familiar terms with us all. When Edward feels inclined to address my daughter as he does you, by her name of baptism, he will, I dare say, now that he has heard my opinion, do so; and reserve ‘Mistress Heatherstone,’ for the time when they have a quarrel.”

“Then I hope he will never again address me that way,” observed Patience, “for I am under too great obligations to him to bear even the idea of being on bad terms with him.”

“Do you hear that, Edward?” said Clara.

“Yes, I do, Clara, and after such a remark you may be sure that I shall never address her in that way again.”

In a few days, Edward became quite at home. In the forenoon, Mr. Heatherstone dictated one or two letters to him, which he wrote; and after that his time was at his own disposal, and was chiefly passed in the company of Patience and Clara. With the first he had now become on the most intimate and brotherly footing; and when they addressed each other, Patience and Edward were the only appellations made use of. Once Mr. Heatherstone asked Edward whether he would not like to go out with Oswald to kill a deer, which he did; but the venison was hardly yet in season. There was a fine horse in the stable at Edward’s order, and he often rode out with Patience and Clara; indeed his time passed so agreeably that he could hardly think it possible that a fortnight had passed away, when he asked permission to go over to the cottage and see his sisters. With the intendant’s permission, Patience and Clara accompanied him; and the joy of Alice and Edith was great when they made their appearance. Oswald had, by Edward’s request, gone over a day or two before, to tell them that they were coming, that they might be prepared; and the consequence was, that it was a holyday at the cottage. Alice had cooked her best dinner, and Humphrey and Pablo were at home to receive them.

“How pleasant it will be, if we are to see you and Clara whenever we see Edward!” said Alice to Patience. “So far from being sorry that Edward is with you, I shall be quite glad of it.”

“I water the flowers every day,” said Edith, “and they make the garden look so gay.”

“I will bring you plenty more in the autumn, Edith; but this is not the right time for transplanting flowers yet,” replied Patience. “And now, Alice, you must take me to see your farm, for when I was here last I had no time; let us come now, and show me every thing.”

“But my dinner, Patience; I can not leave it, or it will be spoiled, and that will never do. You must either go with Edith now, or wait till after dinner, when I can get away.”

“Well, then, we will stay till after dinner, Alice, and we will help you to serve it up.”

“Thank you; Pablo generally does that, for Edith can not reach down the things. I don’t know where he is.”

“He went away with Edward and Humphrey I think,” said Edith. “I’ll scold him when he comes back, for being out of the way.”

“Never mind, Edith, I can reach the dishes,” said Patience, “and you and Clara can then take them, and the platters, and put them on the table for Alice.”

And Patience did as she proposed, and the dinner was soon afterward on the table. There was a ham, and two boiled fowls, and a piece of salted beef, and some roasted kid, besides potatoes and green peas; and when it is considered that such a dinner was bet on the table by such young people left entirely to their own exertions and. industry, it must be admitted that it did then and their farm great credit.

In the mean time, Edward and Humphrey, after the first greetings were over, had walked out to converse, while Pablo had taken the horses into the stable.

“Well, Humphrey how do you get on?”

“Very well,” replied Humphrey. “I have just finished a very tough job. I have dug out the saw-pit, and have sawed the slabs for the sides of the pit, and made it quite secure. The large fir-tree that was blown down is now at the pit, ready for sawing up into planks, and Pablo and I are to commence tomorrow. At first we made but a bad hand of sawing off the slabs, but before we had cut them all, we got on pretty well Pablo don’t much like it, and indeed no more do I much, it is such mechanical work, and so tiring; but he does not complain—I do not intend that he shall saw more than two days in a week; that will be sufficient: we shall get on fast enough.

“You are right, Humphrey; it is an old saying, that you must not work a willing horse to death. Pablo is very willing, but hard work he is not accustomed to.

“Well, now you must come and look at my flock of goats, Edward, they are not far off. I have taught Holdfast to take care of them, and he never leaves them now, and brings them home at night. Watch always remains with me, and is an excellent dog, and very intelligent.”

“You have indeed a fine flock, Humphrey!” said Edward.

“Yes, and they are improved in appearance already since they have been here. Alice has got her geese and ducks, and I have made a place large enough for them to wash in, until I have time to dig them out a pond.”

“I thought we had gathered more hay than you required; but with this addition, I think you will find none to spare before the spring.”

“So far from it, that I have been mowing down a great deal more, Edward, and it is almost ready to carry away. Poor Billy has had hard work of it, I assure you, since he came back, with one thing and another.”

“Poor fellow! but it won’t last long, Humphrey,” said Edward, smiling; “the other horses will soon take his place.”

“I trust they will,” said Humphrey, “at all events by next spring; before that I do not expect that they will.”

“By-the-by, Humphrey, you recollect what I said to you that the robber I shot told me just before he died.”

“Yes, I do recollect it now,” replied Humphrey; “but I had quite forgotten all about it till you mentioned it now, although I wrote it down that we might not forget it.”

“Well, I have been thinking all about it, Humphrey. The robber told me that the money was mine, taking me for another person; therefore I do not consider it was given to me, nor do I consider that it was his to give. I hardly know what to do about it, nor to whom the money can be said to belong.”

“Well, I think I can answer that question. The property of all malefactors belongs to the king; and therefore this money belongs to the king; and we may retain it for the king, or use it for his service.”

“Yes, it would have belonged to the king, had the man been condemned, and hung on the gallows as he deserved; but he was not, and therefore I think that it does not belong to the king.”

“Then it belongs to whoever finds it, and who keeps it till it is claimed—which will never be.”

“I think I must speak to the intendant about it,” replied Edward; “I should feel more comfortable.”

“Then do so,” replied Humphrey; “I think you are right to have no concealments from him.”

“But, Humphrey,” replied Edward, laughing, “what silly fellows we are! we do not yet know whether we shall find any thing; we must first see if there is any thing buried there; and when we have done so, then we will decide how to act. I shall, if it please God, be over again in a fortnight, and in the mean time, do you find out the place, and ascertain if what the fellow said is true.”

“I will,” replied Humphrey. “I will go tomorrow, with Billy and the cart, and take a spade and pickax with me. It may be a fool’s errand, but still they say, and one would credit, for the honor of human nature, that the words of a dying man are those of truth. We had better go back now, for I think dinner must be ready.”

Now that they had become so intimate with Patience Heatherstone—and, I may add, so fond of her—there was no longer any restraint, and they had a very merry dinner party; and after dinner, Patience went out with Alice and Edith, and looked over the garden and farm. She wished very much to ascertain if there was any thing that they required, but she could discover but few things, and those only trifles; but she recollected them all, and sent them to the cottage a few days afterward. But the hour of parting arrived, for it was a long ride back, and they could not stay any longer if they wished to get home before dark, as Mr. Heatherstone had requested Edward that they