The old man did not leave them long in this shy discomfort, but said, smiling with an old man’s mirth: “Dick, my lad, and you, my dear Clara, I rather think that we two oldsters are in your way; for I think you will have plenty to say to each other. You had better go into Nelson’s room up above; I know he has gone out; and he has just been covering the walls all over with medieval books, so it will be pretty enough even for you two and your renewed pleasure.”
The girl reached out her hand to Dick, and taking his led him out of the room, looking straight before her; but it was easy to see that her blushes came from happiness, not anger; as, indeed, love is far more self-conscious than wrath.
When the door had shut on them the old man turned to me, still smiling, and said—
“Frankly, my dear guest, you will do me a great service if you are come to set my old tongue wagging. My love of talk still abides with me, or rather grows on me; and though it is pleasant enough to see these youngsters moving about and playing together so seriously, as if the whole world depended on their kisses (as indeed it does somewhat), yet I don’t think my tales of the past interest them much. The last harvest, the last baby, the last knot of carving in the marketplace, is history enough for them. It was different, I think, when I was a lad, when we were not so assured of peace and continuous plenty as we are now—Well, well! Without putting you to the question, let me ask you this: Am I to consider you as an enquirer who knows a little of our modern ways of life, or as one who comes from some place where the very foundations of life are different from ours—do you know anything or nothing about us?”
He looked at me keenly and with growing wonder in his eyes as he spoke; and I answered in a low voice—
“I know only so much of your modern life as I could gather from using my eyes on the way here from Hammersmith, and from asking some questions of Richard Hammond, most of which he could hardly understand.”
The old man smiled at this. “Then,” said he, “I am to speak to you as—”
“As if I were a being from another planet,” said I.
The old man, whose name, by the by, like his kinsman’s, was Hammond, smiled and nodded, and wheeling his seat round to me, bade me sit in a heavy oak chair, and said, as he saw my eyes fix on its curious carving—
“Yes, I am much tied to the past, my past, you understand. These very pieces of furniture belong to a time before my early days; it was my father who got them made; if they had been done within the last fifty years they would have been much cleverer in execution; but I don’t think I should have liked them the better. We were almost beginning again in those days; and they were brisk, hotheaded times. But you hear how garrulous I am; ask me questions, ask me questions about anything, dear guest; since I must talk, make my talk profitable to you.”
I was silent for a minute, and then I said, somewhat nervously: “Excuse me if I am rude; but I am so much interested in Richard, since he has been so kind to me, a perfect stranger, that I should like to ask a question about him.”
“Well,” said old Hammond, “if he were not ‘kind,’ as you call it, to a perfect stranger he would be thought a strange person, and people would be apt to shun him. But ask on, ask on! don’t be shy of asking.”
Said I: “That beautiful girl, is he going to be married to her?”
“Well,” said he, “yes, he is. He has been married to her once already, and now I should say it is pretty clear that he will be married to her again.”
“Indeed,” quoth I, wondering what that meant.
“Here is the whole tale,” said old Hammond—“a short one enough; and now I hope a happy one: they lived together two years the first time; were both very young; and then she got it into her head that she was in love with somebody else. So she left poor Dick; I say poor Dick, because he had not found anyone else. But it did not last long, only about a year. Then she came to me, as she was in the habit of bringing her troubles to the old carle, and asked me how Dick was, and whether he was happy, and all the rest of it. So I saw how the land lay, and said that he was very unhappy, and not at all well; which last at any rate was a lie. There, you can guess the rest. Clara came to have a long talk with me today, but Dick will serve her turn much better. Indeed, if he hadn’t chanced in upon me today I should have had to have sent for him tomorrow.”
“Dear me,” said I. “Have they any children?”
“Yes,” said he, “two; they are staying with one of my daughters at present, where, indeed, Clara has mostly been. I wouldn’t lose sight of her, as I felt sure they would come together again; and Dick, who is the best of good fellows, really took the matter to heart. You see, he had no other love to run to, as she had. So I managed it all; as I have done with suchlike matters before.”
“Ah,” said I, “no doubt you wanted to keep them out
