This power has been in my family for upwards of a thousand years, coming out and forming great bards sometimes, and at other times great storytellers. Therefore let no one find any fault or doubt any single thing I tell them concerning some people who happen just now to be five or six shelves in the world above me, for I have seen a great deal of the very highest society when I cleaned my Earl’s pumps and epaulettes, and waited upon him at breakfast; and I know well how those great people talk, not from observation only, but by aid of my own fellow-feeling for them, which, perhaps, owes its power of insight not to my own sagacity only, but to my ancestors’ lofty positions, as poets to royal families. Now although I may have mentioned this to the man of the Press—whose hat appeared to have undergone Press experience—I have otherwise kept it quite out of sight, because every writer should hold himself entirely round the corner, and discover his hand, but not his face, to as many as kindly encourage him. Of late, however, it has been said—not by people of our own parish, who have seen and heard me at the well and elsewhere, but by persons with no more right than power to form opinions—that I cannot fail of breaking down when I come to describe great people. To these my answer is quite conclusive. From my long connection with royalty, lasting over a thousand years, I need not hesitate to describe the Prince of Wales himself; and inasmuch as His Royal Highness is not of pure ancient British descent, I verily doubt whether he could manage to better my humble style to my liking.
Enough of that. I felt doubts at beginning, but I find myself stronger as I get on. You may rely upon me now to leave the question to your own intelligence. The proof of the pudding is in the eating; and if anyone fears that I cannot cook it, I only beg him to wait and see.
Lady Bluett was taken so much with my Bardie, and the Colonel the same—though he tried at first to keep it under—that nothing except their own warm kindness stopped them from making off with her. The lady had vowed that she would do so, for it would be so much for the little soul’s good; and of course, so far as legality went, the Chief-Justice of the neighbourhood had more right to her than a common rough farmer. But Watty came down, being sent by Moxy, after he went home with that shilling, and must needs make show of it. He came down shyly, from habit of nature, to the black eyebrows of the tide, where the Colonel and Bardie were holding grand play, with the top of the spring running up to them. She was flying at the wink of every wave, and trying to push him back into it; and he was laughing with all his heart at her spry ways and audacity, and the quickness of her smiles and frowns, and the whole of her nature one whirl of play, till he thought nothing more of his coattails.
“What do you want here, boy?” the Colonel asked, being not best pleased that a man of his standing should be caught in the middle of such antics.
Watkin opened his great blue eyes, and opened his mouth as well, but could not get steerageway on his tongue, being a boy of great reverence.
“Little fellow, what are you come for?” with these words he smiled on the boy, and was vexed with himself for frightening him.
“Oh sir, oh sir, if you please, sir, mother says as Miss Delushy must come home to bed, sir.”
“ ’E go ayay now, ’e bad Yatkin! I ’ants more pay with my dear Colonel Yucca.”
“I am not at all sure,” said the Colonel, laughing, “that I shall not put her into my car, and drive away with her, Watkin.”
“You may go home, my good boy, and tell your mother that we have taken this poor little dear to Candleston.” This, of course, was Lady Bluett.
You should have seen Watkin’s face, they told me, when I came to hear of it. Betwixt his terror of giving offence, and his ignorance how to express his meaning, and the sorrow he felt on his mother’s account, and perhaps his own pain also, not a word had he to say, but made a grope after the baby’s hands. Then the little child ran up to him, and flung both arms around his leg, and showed the stanchness of her breed. Could anyone, even of six years old, better enter into it?
“I yoves Yatkin. Yatkin is aye good and kind. And I yoves poor Moky. I ’ont go ayay till my dear papa and my dear mamma comes for me.”
Lady Bluett, being quick and soft, could not keep her tears from starting; and the Colonel said, “It must be so. We might have done a great wrong, my dear. Consider all”—and here he whispered out of Watkin’s hearing, and the lady nodded sadly, having known what trouble is. But the last words he spoke bravely, “God has sent her for a comfort where He saw that it was needed. We must not give way to a passing fancy against a deep affliction; only we will keep our eyes upon this little orphan darling.”
XXIV
Sound Investments
The spring-tides led me to Sker the next day, and being full early for the ebb, I went in to see what the Colonel had done. For if he should happen to take up the child, she would pass out of my hands altogether, which might of course be
