The Children of the New Forest - Frederick Marryat (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📗

let them know that your brother is better, if you do not leave this for the cottage yourself after the surgeon has called again.”

“My sisters are no longer at the cottage, Master Heatherstone,” replied Humphrey; “they have gone to some friends who have taken charge of them. I saw them safe to London myself, or I should have known of my brother’s illness and have been here before this.”

“You indeed tell me news, Master Humphrey,” replied the intendant. “With whom, may I ask, are your sisters placed, and in what capacity are they gone?”

This reply of the intendant’s reminded Humphrey that he had somewhat committed himself, as, being supposed to be the daughters of a forester, it was not to be thought that they had gone up to be educated; and he therefore replied—

“They found it lonely in the forest, Master Heatherstone, and wished to see London; so we have taken them there, and put them into the care of those who have promised that they shall be well placed.”

The intendant appeared to be much disturbed and surprised, but he said nothing, and soon afterward quitted the room. He almost immediately returned with the surgeon, who, as soon as he felt Edward’s pulse, declared that the crisis was over, and that when he awoke he would be quite sensible. Having given directions as to the drink of his patient, and some medicine which he was to take, the surgeon then left, stating that he should not call until the next evening, unless he was sent for, as he considered all danger over.

Edward continued in a quiet slumber for the major portion of the night. It was just break of day when he opened his eyes. Humphrey offered him some drink, which Edward took greedily; and seeing Humphrey, said—

“Oh, Humphrey, I had quite forgotten where I was—I’m so sleepy!” and with these words his head fell on the pillow, and he was again asleep.

When it was broad daylight, Oswald came into the room:

“Master Humphrey, they say that all danger is over now, but that you have remained here all night. I will relieve you now if you will let me. Go and take a walk in the fresh air—it will revive you.”

“I will, Oswald, and many thanks. My brother has woke up once, and, I thank God, is quite sensible. He will know you when he wakes again, and then do you send for me.”

Humphrey left the room, and was glad, after a night of close confinement in a sick-room, to feel the cool morning air fanning his cheeks. He had not been long out of the house before he perceived Clara coming toward him.

“How d’ye do, Humphrey?” said Clara; “and how is your brother this morning?”

“He is better, Clara, and I hope now out of danger.”

“But, Humphrey,” continued Clara, “when we came into the room last night, what made you say what you did?”

“I do not recollect that I said any thing.”

“Yes, you did; you said that there were now hopes that your brother would be able soon to quit this house which he had been so unfortunate as to enter. Do you recollect?”

“I may have said so, Clara,” replied Humphrey; “it was only speaking my thoughts aloud.”

“But why do you think so, Humphrey? Why has Edward been unfortunate in entering this house? That is what I want to know. Patience cried so much after she left the room because you said that. Why did you say so? You did not think so a short time ago.”

“No, my dear Clara, I did not, but I do now, and I can not give you my reasons; so you must say no more about it.”

Clara was silent for a time, and then said—

“Patience tells me that your sisters have gone away from the cottage. You told her father so.”

“It is very true; they have gone.”

“But why have they gone? What have they gone for? Who is to look after the cows, and goats, and poultry? Who is to cook your dinner, Humphrey? What can you do without them, and why did you send them away without letting me or Patience know that they were going, so that at least we might have bid them farewell?”

“My dear Clara,” replied Humphrey—who, feeling no little difficulty in replying to all these questions, resolved to cut the matter short, by appearing to be angry—“you know that you are the daughter of a gentleman, and so is Patience Heatherstone. You are both of gentle birth, but my sisters, you know, are only the daughters of a forester, and my brother Edward and I are no better. It does not become Mistress Patience and you to be intimate with such as we are, especially now that Mistress Patience is a great heiress; for her father has obtained the large property of Arnwood, and it will be hers after his death. It is not fit that the heiress of Arnwood should mix herself up with foresters’ daughters; and as we had friends near Lymington, who offered to assist us, and take our sisters under their charge, we thought it better that they should go; for what would become of them, if any accident was to happen to Edward or to me? Now they will be provided for. After they have been taught, they will make very nice tirewomen to some lady of quality,” added Humphrey, with a sneer. “Don’t you think they will, my pretty Clara?”

Clara burst into tears.

“You are very unkind, Humphrey,” sobbed she. “You had no right to send away your sisters. I don’t believe you—that’s more!” and Clara ran away into the house.

 

CHAPTER XXVI.

 

Our readers may think that Humphrey was very unkind, but it was to avoid being questioned by Clara, who was evidently sent for the purpose, that he was so harsh. At the same time it must be admitted, that Mr. Heatherstone having obtained possession of Arnwood, rankled, no doubt, in the minds of both the brothers, and every act now, on the part of him or his family, was viewed in a false medium. But our feelings are not always at our control, and Edward was naturally impetuous, and Humphrey so much attached, and so much alarmed at his brother’s danger, that he was even more excited. The blow fell doubly heavy, as it appeared that at the very same time Patience had rejected his brother, and taken possession of their property, which had been held by the family for centuries. What made the case more annoying was, that explanation, if there was any to offer on either side, was, under present circumstances, almost impossible.

Soon after Clara left him, Humphrey returned to his brother’s room. He found him awake and talking to Oswald. Ardently pressing his brother’s hand, Edward said—

“My dear Humphrey, I shall soon be well now, and able, I trust, to quit this house. What I fear is, that some explanation will be asked for by the intendant, not only relative to my sisters having left us, but also upon other points. This is what I wish to avoid without giving offense. I do not think that the intendant is so much to blame in having obtained my property, as he does not know that a Beverley existed; but I can not bear to have any further intimacy with him, especially after what has taken place between me and his daughter. What I have to request is, that you will never quit this room while I am still here unless you are relieved by Oswald; so that the intendant or any body else may have no opportunity of having any private communication with me, or forcing me to listen to what they may have to say. I made this known to Oswald before you came in.”

“Depend upon it, it shall be so, Edward, for I am of your opinion. Clara came tome just now, and I had much trouble, and was compelled to be harsh, to get rid of her importunity.”

When the surgeon called, he pronounced Edward out of danger, and that his attendance would be no longer necessary. Edward felt the truth of this. All that he required was strength; and that he trusted in a few days to obtain.

Oswald was sent over to the cottage, to ascertain how Pablo was going on by himself. He found that every thing was correct, and that Pablo, although he felt proud of his responsibility, was very anxious for Humphrey’s return, as he found himself very lonely. During Oswald’s absence on this day, Humphrey never quitted the room; and although the intendant came up several times, he never could find an opportunity of speaking to Edward, which he evidently wished to do.

To the inquiries made as to how he was, Edward always complained of great weakness, for a reason which will soon be understood. Several days elapsed, and Edward had often been out of bed during the night, when not likely to be intruded upon, and he now felt himself strong enough to be removed; and his object was to leave the intendant’s house without his knowledge, so as to avoid an explanation.

One evening Pablo came over with the horses after it was dark. Oswald put them into the stable; and the morning proving fine and clear, a little before break of day, Edward came softly down stairs with Humphrey, and, mounting the horses, set off for the cottage, without any one in the intendant’s house being aware of their departure.

It must not be supposed, however, that Edward took this step without some degree of consideration as to the feelings of the intendant. On the contrary, he left a letter with Oswald, to be delivered after his departure, in which he thanked the intendant sincerely for all the kindness and compassion he had shown toward him; assured him of his gratitude and kind feelings toward him and his daughter, but said that circumstances had occurred, of which no explanation could be given without great pain to all parties, which rendered it advisable that he should take such an apparently unkind step as to leave without bidding them farewell in person; that he was about to embark immediately for the Continent, to seek his fortune in the wars; and that he wished all prosperity to the family, which would ever have his kindest wishes and remembrances.

“Humphrey,” said Edward, after they had ridden about two miles across the forest, and the sun had risen in an unclouded sky, “I feel like an emancipated slave. Thank God! my sickness has cured me of all my complaints, and all I want now is active employment. And now, Humphrey, Chaloner and Grenville are not a little tired of being mured up in the cottage, and I am as anxious as they are to be off. What will you do? Will you join us, or will you remain at the cottage?”

“I have reflected upon it, Edward, and I have come to the determination of remaining at the cottage. You will find it expensive enough to support one where you are going, and you must appear as a Beverley should do. We have plenty of money saved to equip you, and maintain you well for a year or so, but after that you may require more. Leave me here. I can make money now that the farm is well stocked; and I have no doubt that I shall be able to send over a trifle every year, to support the honor of the family. Besides, I do not wish to leave this for another reason. I want to know what is going on, and watch the motions of the intendant and the heiress of Arnwood. I also do not wish to leave the country until I know how my sisters