Cousin Phillis (4 page)

But I was vexed, and would take no notice. Presently, having finished
his pipe, he got up and left the room. Phillis put her work hastily
down, and went after him. In a minute or two she returned, and sate
down again. Not long after, and before I had quite recovered my good
temper, he opened the door out of which he had passed, and called to me
to come to him. I went across a narrow stone passage into a strange,
many-cornered room, not ten feet in area, part study, part counting
house, looking into the farm-yard; with a desk to sit at, a desk to
stand at, a Spittoon, a set of shelves with old divinity books upon
them; another, smaller, filled with books on farriery, farming,
manures, and such subjects, with pieces of paper containing memoranda
stuck against the whitewashed walls with wafers, nails, pins, anything
that came readiest to hand; a box of carpenter's tools on the floor,
and some manuscripts in short-hand on the desk.

He turned round, half laughing. 'That foolish girl of mine thinks I
have vexed you'—putting his large, powerful hand on my shoulder.
'"Nay," says I, "kindly meant is kidney taken"—is it not so?'

'It was not quite, sir,' replied I, vanquished by his manner; 'but it
shall be in future.'

'Come, that's right. You and I shall be friends. Indeed, it's not many
a one I would bring in here. But I was reading a book this morning, and
I could not make it out; it is a book that was left here by mistake one
day; I had subscribed to Brother Robinson's sermons; and I was glad to
see this instead of them, for sermons though they be, they're . . .
well, never mind! I took 'em both, and made my old coat do a bit
longer; but all's fish that comes to my net. I have fewer books than
leisure to read them, and I have a prodigious big appetite. Here it is.'

It was a volume of stiff mechanics, involving many technical terms, and
some rather deep mathematics. These last, which would have puzzled me,
seemed easy enough to him; all that he wanted was the explanations of
the technical words, which I could easily give.

While he was looking through the book to find the places where he had
been puzzled, my wandering eye caught on some of the papers on the
wall, and I could not help reading one, which has stuck by me ever
since. At first, it seemed a kind of weekly diary; but then I saw that
the seven days were portioned out for special prayers and
intercessions: Monday for his family, Tuesday for enemies, Wednesday
for the Independent churches, Thursday for all other churches, Friday
for persons afflicted, Saturday for his own soul, Sunday for all
wanderers and sinners, that they might be brought home to the fold.

We were called back into the house-place to have supper. A door opening
into the kitchen was opened; and all stood up in both rooms, while the
minister, tall, large, one hand resting on the spread table, the other
lifted up, said, in the deep voice that would have been loud had it not
been so full and rich, but without the peculiar accent or twang that I
believe is considered devout by some people, 'Whether we eat or drink,
or whatsoever we do, let us do all to the glory of God.'

The supper was an immense meat-pie. We of the house-place were helped
first; then the minister hit the handle of his buck-horn carving-knife
on the table once, and said,—

'Now or never,' which meant, did any of us want any more; and when we
had all declined, either by silence or by words, he knocked twice with
his knife on the table, and Betty came in through the open door, and
carried off the great dish to the kitchen, where an old man and a young
one, and a help-girl, were awaiting their meal.

'Shut the door, if you will,' said the minister to Betty.

'That's in honour of you,' said cousin Holman, in a tone of
satisfaction, as the door was shut. 'When we've no stranger with us,
the minister is so fond of keeping the door Open, and talking to the
men and maids, just as much as to Phillis and me.

'It brings us all together like a household just before we meet as a
household in prayer,' said he, in explanation. 'But to go back to what
we were talking about—can you tell me of any simple book on dynamics
that I could put in my pocket, and study a little at leisure times in
the day?'

'Leisure times, father?' said Phillis, with a nearer approach to a
smile than I had yet seen on her face.

'Yes; leisure times, daughter. There is many an odd minute lost in
waiting for other folk; and now that railroads are coming so near us,
it behoves us to know something about them.'

I thought of his own description of his 'prodigious big appetite' for
learning. And he had a good appetite of his own for the more material
victual before him. But I saw, or fancied I saw, that he had some rule
for himself in the matter both of food and drink.

As soon as supper was done the household assembled for prayer. It was a
long impromptu evening prayer; and it would have seemed desultory
enough had I not had a glimpse of the kind of day that preceded it, and
so been able to find a clue to the thoughts that preceded the
disjointed utterances; for he kept there kneeling down in the centre of
a circle, his eyes shut, his outstretched hands pressed palm to
palm—sometimes with a long pause of silence was anything else he
wished to 'lay before the Lord! (to use his own expression)—before he
concluded with the blessing. He prayed for the cattle and live
creatures, rather to my surprise; for my attention had begun to wander,
till it was recalled by the familiar words.

And here I must not forget to name an odd incident at the conclusion of
the prayer, and before we had risen from our knees (indeed before Betty
was well awake, for she made a practice of having a sound nap, her
weary head lying on her stalwart arms); the minister, still kneeling in
our midst, but with his eyes wide open, and his arms dropped by his
side, spoke to the elder man, who turned round on his knees to attend.
'John, didst see that Daisy had her warm mash to-night; for we must not
neglect the means, John—two quarts of gruel, a spoonful of ginger, and
a gill of beer—the poor beast needs it, and I fear it slipped Out of
my mind to tell thee; and here was I asking a blessing and neglecting
the means, which is a mockery,' said he, dropping his voice. Before we
went to bed he told me he should see little or nothing more of me
during my visit, which was to end on Sunday evening, as he always gave
up both Saturday and Sabbath to his work in the ministry. I remembered
that the landlord at the inn had told me this on the day when I first
inquired about these new relations of mine; and I did not dislike the
opportunity which I saw would be afforded me of becoming more
acquainted with cousin Holman and Phillis, though I earnestly hoped
that the latter would not attack me on the subject of the dead
languages.

I went to bed, and dreamed that I was as tall as cousin Phillis, and
had a sudden and miraculous growth of whisker, and a still more
miraculous acquaintance with Latin and Greek. Alas! I wakened up still
a short, beardless lad, with 'tempus fugit' for my sole remembrance of
the little Latin I had once learnt. While I was dressing, a bright
thought came over me: I could question cousin Phillis, instead of her
questioning me, and so manage to keep the choice of the subjects of
conversation in my own power.

Early as it was, every one had breakfasted, and my basin of bread and
milk was put on the oven-top to await my coming down. Every one was
gone about their work. The first to come into the house-place was
Phillis with a basket of eggs. Faithful to my resolution, I asked,—

'What are those?'

She looked at me for a moment, and then said gravely,—

'Potatoes!'

'No! they are not,' said I. 'They are eggs. What do you mean by saying
they are potatoes?'

'What do you mean by asking me what they were, when they were plain to
be seen?' retorted she.

We were both getting a little angry with each other.

'I don't know. I wanted to begin to talk to you; and I was afraid you
would talk to me about books as you did yesterday. I have not read
much; and you and the minister have read so much.'

'I have not,' said she. 'But you are our guest; and mother says I must
make it pleasant to you. We won't talk of books. What must we talk
about?'

'I don't know. How old are you?'

'Seventeen last May. How old are you?'

'I am nineteen. Older than you by nearly two years,' said I, drawing
myself up to my full height.

'I should not have thought you were above sixteen,' she replied, as
quietly as if she were not saying the most provoking thing she possibly
could. Then came a pause.

'What are you going to do now?' asked I.

'I should be dusting the bed-chambers; but mother said I had better
stay and make it pleasant to you,' said she, a little plaintively, as
if dusting rooms was far the easiest task.

'Will you take me to see the live-stock? I like animals, though I don't
know much about them.'

'Oh, do you? I am so glad! I was afraid you would not like animals, as
you did not like books.'

I wondered why she said this. I think it was because she had begun to
fancy all our tastes must be dissimilar. We went together all through
the farm-yard; we fed the poultry, she kneeling down with her pinafore
full of corn and meal, and tempting the little timid, downy chickens
upon it, much to the anxiety of the fussy ruffled hen, their mother.
She called to the pigeons, who fluttered down at the sound of her
voice. She and I examined the great sleek cart-horses; sympathized in
our dislike of pigs; fed the calves; coaxed the sick cow, Daisy; and
admired the others out at pasture; and came back tired and hungry and
dirty at dinner-time, having quite forgotten that there were such
things as dead languages, and consequently capital friends.

Cousin Holman gave me the weekly county newspaper to read aloud to her,
while she mended stockings out of a high piled-up basket, Phillis
helping her mother. I read and read, unregardful of the words I was
uttering, thinking of all manner of other things; of the bright colour
of Phillis's hair, as the afternoon sun fell on her bending head; of
the silence of the house, which enabled me to hear the double tick of
the old clock which stood half-way up the stairs; of the variety of
inarticulate noises which cousin Holman made while I read, to show her
sympathy, wonder, or horror at the newspaper intelligence. The tranquil
monotony of that hour made me feel as if I had lived for ever, and
should live for ever droning out paragraphs in that warm sunny room,
with my two quiet hearers, and the curled-up pussy cat sleeping on the
hearth-rug, and the clock on the house-stairs perpetually clicking out
the passage of the moments. By-and-by Betty the servant came to the
door into the kitchen, and made a sign to Phillis, who put her
half-mended stocking down, and went away to the kitchen without a word.
Looking at cousin Holman a minute or two afterwards, I saw that she had
dropped her chin upon her breast, and had fallen fast asleep. I put the
newspaper down, and was nearly following her example, when a waft of
air from some unseen source, slightly opened the door of communication
with the kitchen, that Phillis must have left unfastened; and I saw
part of her figure as she sate by the dresser, peeling apples with
quick dexterity of finger, but with repeated turnings of her head
towards some book lying on the dresser by her. I softly rose, and as
softly went into the kitchen, and looked over her shoulder; before she
was aware of my neighbourhood, I had seen that the book was in a
language unknown to me, and the running title was L'Inferno. Just as I
was making out the relationship of this word to 'infernal', she started
and turned round, and, as if continuing her thought as she spoke, she
sighed out,—

'Oh! it is so difficult! Can you help me?' putting her finger below a
line.

'Me! I! I don't even know what language it is in!'

'Don't you see it is Dante?' she replied, almost petulantly; she did so
want help.

'Italian, then?' said I, dubiously; for I was not quite sure.

'Yes. And I do so want to make it out. Father can help me a little, for
he knows Latin; but then he has so little time.'

'You have not much, I should think, if you have often to try and do two
things at once, as you are doing now.

'Oh! that's nothing! Father bought a heap of old books cheap. And I
knew something about Dante before; and I have always liked Virgil so
much. Paring apples is nothing, if I could only make out this old
Italian. I wish you knew it.'

'I wish I did,' said I, moved by her impetuosity of tone. 'If, now,
only Mr Holdsworth were here; he can speak Italian like anything, I
believe.'

'Who is Mr Holdsworth?' said Phillis, looking up.

'Oh, he's our head engineer. He's a regular first-rate fellow! He can
do anything;' my hero-worship and my pride in my chief all coming into
play. Besides, if I was not clever and book-learned myself, it was
something to belong to some one who was.

'How is it that he speaks Italian?' asked Phillis.

'He had to make a railway through Piedmont, which is in Italy, I
believe; and he had to talk to all the workmen in Italian; and I have
heard him say that for nearly two years he had only Italian books to
read in the queer outlandish places he was in.'

'Oh, dear!' said Phillis; 'I wish—' and then she stopped. I was not
quite sure whether to say the next thing that came into my mind; but I
said it.

'Could I ask him anything about your book, or your difficulties?'

She was silent for a minute or so, and then she made reply,—

'No! I think not. Thank you very much, though. I can generally puzzle a
thing out in time. And then, perhaps, I remember it better than if some
one had helped me. I'll put it away now, and you must move off, for
I've got to make the paste for the pies; we always have a cold dinner
on Sabbaths.'