It Is Never Too Late to Mend — Chapter I, part 2
Fortunately for Isaac wood encountered leather instead of gray hairs.
Attracted by the raised voices, and unseen in their frenzy by either of these antagonists, young George Fielding had drawn near them.
He had, luckily, a stout pig-whip in his hand, and by an adroit turn of his muscular wrist he parried a blow that would have stopped the old Jew's eloquence perhaps forever.
As it was, the corn-factor's stick cut like a razor through the air, and made a most musical whirr within a foot of the Jew's ear.
The basilisk look of venom and vengeance he instantly shot back amounted to a stab.
“Not if I know it,” said George.
And he stood cool and erect with a calm manly air of defiance between the two belligerents.
While the stick and the whip still remained in contact, Meadows glared at Isaac's champion with surprise and wrath, and a sort of half fear half wonder that this of all men in the world should be the one to cross weapons with and thwart him.
“You are joking, Master Meadows,” said George coolly.
“Why the man is twice your age, and nothing in his hand but his fist.
Who are ye, old man, and what d'ye want?
It's you for cursing, anyway.
” “He insults me,” cried Meadows, “because I won't have him for a tenant against my will.
Who is he?
A villainous old Jew.
” “Yes, young man,” said the other, sadly, “I am Isaac Levi, a Jew.
And what is your religion” (he turned upon Meadows)?
“It never came out of Judea in any name or shape.
D'ye call yourself a heathen?
Ye lie, ye cur; the heathen were not without starlight from heaven; they respected sorrow and gray hairs.
” “You shall smart for this.
I'll show you what my religion is,” said Meadows, inadvertent with passion, and the corn-factor's fingers grasped his stick convulsively.
“Don't you be so aggravating, old man,” said the good-natured George, “and you, Mr. Meadows, should know how to make light of an old man's tongue; why it's like a woman's, it's all he has got to hit with;
leastways you mustn't lift hand to him on my premises, or you will have to settle with me first; and I don't think that would suit your book or any man's for a mile or two round about Farnborough,” said George with his little Berkshire drawl.
“He!
” shrieked Isaac, “he dare not!
see!
see!
” and he pointed nearly into the man's eye, “he doesn't look you in the face.
Any soul that has read men from east to west can see lion in your eye, young man, and cowardly wolf in his.
” “Lady-day!
Lady-day!
” snorted Meadows, who was now shaking with suppressed rage.
“Ah!
” cried Isaac, and he turned white and quivered in his turn.
“Lady-day!
” said George, uneasily, “Confound Lady-day, and every day of the sort--there, don't you be so spiteful, old man--why if he isn't all of a tremble.
Poor old man.
” He went to his own door, and called “Sarah!
” A stout servant-girl answered the summons.
“Take the old man in, and give him whatever is going, and his mug and pipe,” then he whispered her, “and don't go lumping the chine down under his nose now.
” “I thank you, young man,” faltered Isaac, “I must not eat with you, but I will go in and rest my limbs which fail me, and compose myself; for passion is unseemly at my years.
” Arrived at the door, he suddenly paused, and looking upward, said: “Peace be under this roof, and comfort and love follow me into this dwelling.
” “Thank ye kindly,” said young Fielding, a little surprised and touched by this.
“How old are you, daddy, if you please?
” added he respectfully.
“My son, I am threescore years and ten--a man of years and grief--grief for myself, grief still more for my nation and city.
Men that are men pity us; men that are dogs have insulted us in all ages.
” “Well,” said the good-natured young man soothingly--“don't you vex yourself any more about it.
Now you go in, and forget all your trouble awhile, please God, by my fireside, my poor old man.
” Isaac turned, the water came to his eyes at this after being insulted so; a little struggle took place in him, but nature conquered prejudice and certain rubbish he called religion.
He held out his hand like the king of all Asia; George grasped it like an Englishman.
“Isaac Levi is your friend,” and the expression of the man's whole face and body showed these words carried with them a meaning unknown in good society.
He entered the house, and young Fielding stood watching him with a natural curiosity.
Now Isaac Levi knew nothing about the corn-factor's plans.
When at one and the same moment he grasped George's hand, and darted a long, lingering glance of demoniacal hatred on Meadows, he coupled two sentiments by pure chance.
And Meadows knew this; but still it struck Meadows as singular and ominous.
When, with the best of motives, one is on a wolf's errand, it is not nice to hear a hyena say to the shepherd's dog, “I am your friend,” and see him contemptuously shoot the eye of a rattlesnake at one's self.
The misgiving, however, was but momentary; Meadows respected his own motives and felt his own power; an old Jew's wild fury could not shake his confidence.
He muttered, “One more down to your account, George Fielding,” and left the young man watching Isaac's retreating form.
George, who didn't know he was gone, said: “Old man's words seem to knock against my bosom, Mr. Meadows--Gone, eh?
--that man,” thought George Fielding, “has everybody's good word, parson's and all--who'd think he'd lift his hand, leastways his stick it was and that's worse, against a man of three score and upward--Ugh!
” thought George Fielding, yeoman of the midland counties--and unaffected wonder mingled with his disgust.
His reverie was broken by William Fielding just ridden in from Farnborough.
“Better late than never,” said the elder brother, impatiently.
“Couldn't get away sooner, George; here's the money for the sheep, 13 pounds 10s.
; no offer for the cow, Jem is driving her home.
” “Well, but the money--the 80 pounds, Will?
” William looked sulkily down.
“I haven't got it, George!
There's your draft again, the bank wouldn't take it.
” A keen pang shot across George's face, as much for the affront as the disappointment.
“They wouldn't take it?
” gasped he.
“Ay, Will, our credit is down, the whole town knows our rent is overdue.
I suppose you know money _must_ be got some way.
” “Any way is better than threshing out new wheat at such a price,” said William sullenly.
“Ask a loan of a neighbor.
” “Oh, Will,” appealed George, “to ask a loan of a neighbor, and be denied--it is bitterer than death.
_You_ can do it.
” “I!
Am I master here?
” retorted the younger.
“The farm is not farmed my way, nor ever was.
No!
Give me the plow-handle and I'll cut the furrow, George.
” “No doubt, no doubt!
” said the other, very sharply, “you'd like to draw the land dry with potato crops, and have fourscore hogs snoring in the farmyard; that's your idea of a farm.
Oh!
I know you want to be elder brother.
Well, I tell'ee what do; you kill me first, Bill Fielding, and then you will be elder brother, and not afore.
” Here was a pretty little burst of temper!
We have all our sore part.
“So be it, George!
” replied William, “you got us into the mud, elder brother, you get us out of the mire!
” George subdued his tone directly.
“Who shall I ask?
” said he, as one addressing a bosom counselor.
“Uncle Merton, or--or---Mr. Meadows the corn-factor; he lends money at times to friends.
It would not be much to either of them.
” “Show my empty pockets to Susanna's father!
Oh, Will!
how can you be so cruel?
” “Meadows, then.
” “No use for me, I've just offended him a hit; beside he's a man that never knew trouble or ill luck in his life; they are like flints, all that sort.
” “Well, look here, I'm pretty well with Meadows.
I'll ask him if you will try uncle; the first that meets his man to begin.
” “That sounds fair,” said George, “but I can't--well--yes,” said he, suddenly changing his mind.
“I agree,” said he, with simple cunning, and lowered his eyes; but suddenly raising them, he said cheerfully, “Why, you're in luck, Bill; here's your man,” and he shot like an arrow into his own kitchen.
“Confound it,” said the other, fairly caught.
Meadows, it is to be observed, was wandering about the premises until such time as Robinson should return; and while the brothers were arguing, he had been in the barn, and finding old Merton there had worked still higher that prudent man's determination to break off matters between his daughter and the farmer of “The Grove.
” After the usual salutations William Fielding, sore against the grain, began: “I did not know you were here, sir!
I want to speak to you.
” “I am at your service, Mr. Willum.
” “Well, sir.
George and I are a little short just at present; it is only for a time, and George says he should take it very kind if you would lend us a hundred pound, just to help us over the stile.
” “Why, Mr. Willum,” replied Meadows, “I should be delighted, and if you had only asked me yesterday, I could have done it as easy as stand here;
but my business drinks a deal of money, Mr. Willum, and I laid out all my loose cash yesterday; but, of course, it is of no consequence--another time--good morning, Mr. Willum.
” Away sauntered Meadows, leaving William planted there, as the French say.
George ran out of the kitchen.
“Well?
” “He says he has got no money loose.
” “He is a liar!
he paid 1,600 pounds into the bank yesterday, and you knew it; didn't you tell him so?
” “No; what use?
A man that lies to avoid lending won't be driven to lend.
” “You don't play fair,” retorted George.
“You could have got it from Meadows, if you had a mind; but you want to drive your poor brother against his sweetheart's father; you are false, my lad.
” “You are the only man that ever said so; and you durstn't say it if you weren't my brother.
” “If it wasn't for that, I'd say a deal more.
” “Well, show your high stomach to Uncle Merton, for there he is.
Hy!
--uncle!
” cried William to Merton, who turned instantly and came toward them.
“George wants to speak to you,” said William, and shot like a cross-bow bolt behind the house.
“That is lucky,” said Merton, “for I want to speak to you.
” “Who would have thought of his being about?
” muttered George.
While George was calling up his courage and wits to open his subject, Mr. Merton, who had no such difficulties, was beforehand with him.
“You are threshing out new wheat?
” said Merton, gravely.
“Yes,” answered George, looking down.
“That is a bad lookout; a farmer has no business to go to his barn door for his rent.
” “Where is he to go, then?
to the church door, and ask for a miracle?
” “No; to his ship-fold, to be sure.
” “Ay!
you can; you have got grass and water and everything to hand.
” “And so must you, young man, or you'll never be a farmer.
Now, George, I must speak to you seriously” (George winced).
“You are a fine lad, and I like you very well, but I love my own daughter better.
” “So do I!
” said George simply.
“And I must look out for her,” resumed Merton.
“I have seen a pretty while how things are going here, and if she marries you she will have to keep you instead of you her.
” “Heaven forbid!
Matters are not so bad as that, uncle.
” “You are too much of a man, I hope,” continued Merton, “to eat a woman's bread; and if you are not, I am man enough to keep the girl from it.
” “These are hard words to bear,” gasped George.
“So near my own house, old man.
” “Well, plain speaking is best when the mind is made up,” was the reply.
“Is this from Susanna, as well as you?
” said George, with a trembling lip, and scarce able to utter the words.
“Susan is an obedient daughter.
What I say she'll stand to; and I hope you know better than to tempt her to disobey me; you wouldn't succeed.
” “Enough said,” answered George very sternly.
“Enough said, old man; I've no need to tempt any girl.
” “Good morning, George!
” and away stumped Merton.
“Good morning, uncle!
(ungrateful old thief).
” “William,” cried he, to his brother, who came the next minute to hear the news, “our mother took him out of the dirt.
--I have heard her say as much--or he'd not have a ship-fold to brag of.
Oh!
my heart--oh!
Will!
--” “Well, will he lend the money?
” “I never asked him.
” “You never asked him!
” cried William.
“Bill, he began upon me in a moment,” said George, looking appealingly into his brother's face; “he sees we are going down hill, and he as good as bade me think no more of Susan.
” “Well,” said the other, harshly, “it was your business to own the truth and ask him help us over the stile--he's our own blood.
” “You want to let me down lower than I would let that Carlo dog of yours.
You're no brother of mine,” retorted George fiercely and bitterly.
“A bargain is a bargain,” replied the other sullenly: “I asked Meadows, and he said No. You fell talking with uncle about Susan, and never put the question to him at all.
Who is the false one, eh?
” “If you call me false, I'll knock your ugly head off, sulky Bill.
” “You're false, and a fool into the bargain, bragging George!
” “What, you will have it, then?
” “If you can give it me.
” “Well, if it is to be,” said George, “I'll give you something to put you on your mettle.
The best man shall farm 'The Grove,' and the other shall be a servant on it, or go elsewhere, for I am sick of this.
” “And so am I!
” cried William, hastily; “and have been any time this two years.
” They tucked up their sleeves a little, shook hands, and then retired each one step, and began to fight.
And how came these two honest men to forget that the blood they proposed to shed was thicker than water?
Was it the farm, money, agricultural dissension, temper?
They would have told you it was, and perhaps thought it was.
It was Susanna Merton!
The secret subtle influence of jealousy had long been fermenting, and now it exploded in this way and under this disguise.
Ah!
William Fielding, and all of you, “Beware of jealousy”--cursed jealousy!
it is the sultan of all the passions, and the Tartar chief of all the crimes.
Other passions affect the character; this changes, and, if good, always reverses it!
Mind that, reverses it!
turns honest men to snakes, and doves to vultures.
Horrible unnatural mixture of Love with Hate--you poison the whole mental constitution--you bandage the judgment--you crush the sense of right and wrong--you steel the bowels of compassion--you madden the brain--you corrupt the heart--you damn the soul.
The Fieldings, then, shook hands mechanically, and receding each a step began to spar.
Each of these farmers fancied himself slightly the best man; but they both knew they had an antagonist with whom it would not do to make the least mistake.
They therefore sparred and feinted with wary eye before they ventured to close; George, however, the more impetuous, was preparing to come to closer quarters when all of a sudden, to the other's surprise, he dropped his hands by his sides, and turned the other way with a face anything but warlike, fear being now the prominent expression.
William followed the direction of his eye, and then William partook his brother's uneasiness; however, he put his hands in his pockets, and began to saunter about, in a circumference of three yards, and to get up a would-be-careless whistle, while George's hands became dreadfully in his way, so he washed them in the air.
While they were employed in this peaceful pantomime a beautiful young woman glided rapidly between the brothers.
Her first words renewed their uneasiness.
“What is this?
” cried she, haughtily, and she looked from one to the other like a queen rebuking her subjects.
George looked at William--William had nothing ready.
So George said, with some hesitation, but in a mellifluous voice, “William was showing me--a trick--he learned at the fair--that is all, Susan.
” “That is a falsehood, George,” replied the lady, “the first you ever told me”--(George colored)--“you were fighting, you two boys--I saw your eyes flash!
” The rueful wink exchanged by the combatants at this stroke of sagacity was truly delicious.
“Oh, fie!
oh, fie!
brothers by one mother fighting--in a Christian land--within a stone's throw of a church, where brotherly love is preached as a debt we owe to strangers, let alone our own blood.
” “Yes!
it is a sin, Susan,” said William, his conscience suddenly illuminated.
“So I ask _your_ pardon, Susanna.
” “Oh!
it wasn't your fault, I'll be bound,” was the gracious reply.
“What a ruffian you must be, George, to shed your brother's blood.
” “La!
Susan,” said George, with a doleful whine, “I wasn't going to shed the beggar's blood.
I was only going to give him a hiding for his impudence.
” “Or take one for your own,” replied William coolly.
“That is more likely,” said Susan.
“George, take William's hand; take it this instant, I say,” cried she, with an air imperative and impatient.
“Well, why not?
don't you go in a passion, Susan, about nothing,” said George coaxingly.
They took hands; she made them hold one another by the hand, which they did with both their heads hanging down.
“While I speak a word to you two,” said Susan Merton.
“You ought both to go on your knees, and thank Providence that sent me here to prevent so great a crime; and as for you, your character must change greatly, George Fielding, before I trust myself to live in a house of yours.
” “Is all the blame to fall on my head?
” said George, letting go William's hand with no great apparent reluctance.
“Of course it is!
William is a quiet lad that quarrels with nobody; you are always quarreling; you thrashed our carter last Candlemas.
” “He spoke saucy words about you.
” Susan, smiling inwardly, made her face as repulsive outside as lay in her power.
“I don't believe it,” said Susan; “your time was come round to fight and be a ruffian, and so it was to-day, no doubt.
” “Ah!
” said George, sorrowfully, “it is always poor George that does all the wrong.
“Oh!
” replied the lady, an arch smile playing for a moment about her lips, “I could scold William, too, if you think I am as much interested in his conduct and behavior as in yours.
” “No, no!
” cried George, brightening up, “don't think to scold anybody but me, Susan; and William,” said he, suddenly and frankly, “I ask your pardon.
” “No more about it, George, if you please,” answered William in his dogged way.
“Susan,” said George, “you don't know all I have to bear.
My heart is sore, Susan, dear.
Uncle twitted me not an hour ago with my ill luck, and almost bade me to speak to you no more, leastways as my sweetheart;
and that was why, when William came at me on the top of such a blow, it was more than I could bear; and Susan--Susan--uncle said you would stand to whatever he said.
” “George,” said Susan gently, “I am very sorry my father was so unkind.
” “Thank ye kindly, Susan; that is the first drop of dew that has fallen on me to-day.
” “But obedience to parents,” continued Susan, interrogating, as it were, her conscience, “is a great duty.
I _hope_ I shall never disobey my father,” faltered she.
“Oh!
” answered the goose George hastily, “I don't want any girl to be kind to me that does not love me; I am so unlucky, it would not be worth her while, you know.
” At this Susan answered still more sharply, “No, I don't think it would be worth any woman's while, till your character and temper undergo a change.
” George never answered a word, but went and leaned his head upon the side of a cart that stood half in and half out of a shed close by.
At this juncture a gay personage joined the party.
He had a ball waistcoat, as alarming tie, a shooting jacket, wet muddy trousers and shoes, and an empty basket on his back.
He joined our group, just as George was saying to himself very sadly, “I am in everybody's way here”--and he attacked him directly.
“Everybody is in this country.
” The reader is to understand that this Robinson was last from California;
and California had made such an impression upon him, that he turned the conversation that way oftener than a well-regulated understanding recurs to any one topic, except, perhaps, religion.
He was always pestering George to go to California with him, and it must be owned that on this one occasion George had given him a fair handle.
“Come out of it,” continued Robinson, “and make your fortune.
” “You did not make yours there,” said Susan sharply.
“I beg your pardon, miss. I made it, or how could I have spent it?
” “No doubt,” said William.
“What comes by the wind goes by the water.
” “Alluding to the dust?
” inquired the Cockney.
“Gold dust especially,” retorted Susan Merton.
Robinson laughed.
“The ladies are sharp, even in Berkshire,” said he.
Mr. Robinson then proceeded to disabuse their minds about the facility of gold.
“A crop of gold,” said he, “does not come by the wind any more than a crop of corn; it comes by harder digging than your potatoes ever saw, and harder work than you ever did--oxen and horses perspire for you, Fielding No. 2. ” “Did you ever see a horse or an ox mow an acre of grass or barley?
” retorted William dryly.
“Don't brag,” replied the other; “they'll eat all you can mow and never say a word about it.
” This repartee was so suited to their rustic idea of wit, that Robinson's antagonists laughed heartily, except George.
“What is the matter with him?
” said Robinson, sotto voce, indicating George.
“Oh!
he is cross, never mind him,” replied Susan ostentatiously loud.
George winced, but never spoke back to her.
Robinson then proceeded to disabuse the rural mind of the notion that gold is to be got without hard toil, even in California.
He told them how the miners' shirts were wet through and through in the struggle for gold; he told them how the little boys demanded a dollar apiece for washing these same garments; and how the miners to escape this extortion sent their linen to China in ships on Monday morning, and China sent them back on Saturday, only it was Saturday six weeks.
Next Mr. Robinson proceeded to draw a parallel between England and various nations on the other side of the Atlantic, not at all complimentary to his island home; above all, he was eloquent on the superior dignity of labor in new countries.
“I heard one of your clodhoppers say the other day, 'The squire is a good gentleman, he often _gives me a day's work_.'
Now I should think it was the clodhopper gave the gentleman the day's work, and the gentleman gave him a shilling for it--and made five by it.
” William Fielding scratched his head.
This was a new view of things to him, but there seemed to be something in it.
“Ay!
