John Halifax, Gentleman

rdinary woman. I repeat it—

said extraordinary woman had just removed breakfast,

fore,

et and her own temper likewise. Astonishing patience! However

an-hour ago holding the eldest Tod boy on a refracto

le scamp from making a noise under the windows. And that reminds me

w s

ed to us a single fact concerning our nei

u want

at he always had a certain pleasure in

plimentary word ‘thing.’ But what possible interest ca

o take a little interest in your neighbours. So I’ve a great mind to indulge you with an important idea, suggestion, discovery. Harkee, friend!”—and he

old gentlem

fe side, and call her the—individual. In short; the owner of that g

gown! when

I thought that it—well, let me say SHE—might not like to be watched or followed. She w

sekeeper! ex

She walked a great deal quicker and merrier tha

ng at John’s original n

nvalid ‘the old gentleman!’ and I don

o sometimes mar

to his point—“though this lady did not look like a sylph or a wood-nymph—being neither very small nor very slight, and havin

sibly tell? Did

y to chase a lady as a schoolboy does a butterfly, for the mere gratification

Rose C

y—y

w-laid eggs for her—I mean for the si

home I saw her stop twice; once to speak to an old woman who was

ou hea

enitent face as I passed him. I a

nd upon it. Your beautiful

rather not cheat myself, or be cheated after that manner. Perfection is imp

n! The fair div

ngly object to divinities. How unpleasant it would be to woo an an

I; at which he laughe

of subjects, when we talk such no

n the grey gow

must go saddle the brown mare, and be off to Norton B

ed his healthy nature, whatsoever romance was there—and never was there a thoroughly noble nature withou

he wheeled it to the window,

you want? You’ll take a walk bef

ot—the best things never are expressed or expressible—knew by a thousand little daily acts like these, the depth and tenderness of his friendship, his brotherly love for me. As yet

olitary day. With much merriment, too, for we were the gayest couple of young ba

t that. With two sets of lodgers, a husband, and an indefinite numbe

knew he would come to grief with that do

t, leaping out through the open window. The next minute I saw him carrying in the un

—I saw it done. Jack, my lad!—be a man, and never

cause for terror, hers changed into hearty wrath against Jack for

ch came, he got playing with the carriage-horse, and it kicked him and broke his arm. A deal h

hen—the centre room of the cottage; and was trying to divert the torrent of maternal indignation, while he helped her to pla

y the words, the manner, or the tone, she looked up s

ood as being forgiven when one has been

say, too. You talk like my man does, o’ Sundays. Tod be a Scotchman, Mr. Halifax; and they’re good folks

’re safe this time; only you must not disobey your mo

“You be a gentleman—Mr. March bean’t—he said i

rply; for the latch of the opposite door w

; my fath

ough somewhat quick and decided in tone—John and I both involuntarily turned. We

ll take his soup at ele

Miss M

rch shut the door a

ere fixed on the door, which had disclosed and concealed the momentary picture. I

he whole colouring being of that soft darkness of tone which gives a sense of something at once warm and tender, strong and womanly. Thorough woman she seemed—not a bit of the angel about her. S

or fandangos of any sort—reaching up to her throat and down to her wrists, where it had

said our landlady, whe

removing his eyes

nter than her father, who is always ailing, and always grumbling. Poor gentleman!—m

n. His laconism

Jack’s cut forehead, and even some minutes after his protege had begun playing about as us

Mrs. Tod, I hope our presence did

come into this kitchen—just as you did, gentlemen, and very happy to see you always,” added Mrs. Tod, curtseying.

ed to set up, from its cradle in the corner, such a terri

covered at last. She’s young, ce

r said

I can easily imagine her trotting over the common with her baske

She must have a hard l

take it up so seriou

t should turn out to be the very Mr. March you pulled out of Seve

me; then came back to wish me a kind goodbye. “Take care of yourself,

once to look back at Rose Cottage, ere he finally disappeared betwee

nd, and I fancied a white-furred wrist, pulling down the blind. It amus

h more than once friendly Mrs. Tod broke in upon my solitude. She treated me in a

common struck their tops of a morning, and the broad western glimmer showed their forms distinctly until far in the night. They were just near enough for me to hear their faint rustling in windy weather; on calm days they stood up straight

d the old mare’s hoofs clattering

expressed it, “the David of the sheep-folds.” He was very tired, and had

lit candles, bade us good-night in her free, independent way, and “hoped Mr. Halifax had

r can rightly be left with so many anxieties on his shoulders. I must manage to get

he pleasant country life you planned,

me, and can’t afford to get used to too much pleasure. But we’ll make

hat would you like

ommon in early morning—th

e, or hum

know what you mean; but I had forgotten her, or, if not absolutely forgotten, she was not in my mind just t

was a tacit reproach to me. I let the matter drop; we had mu

orning we were

dews, Phineas. Come a little farther on, to

the bottom of the hollow, and a score or two of white cottages scattered themselves from this small nucleus of civilisation over the opposite bank of this imaginary river, which was now a lovely hill-side. Gorges, purple with shadow, yellow corn

on, having the whole valley in one’s hand, to do good to, or ill. You can’t think what primitive people they are hereabouts—descendants from an old colony of Flemi

as it had done when, as a boy, he had talked to me about his mac

stolidity! I do believe he and his ancestors have gone on in the same way, and with almost the same machinery, ever since Quee

xplain clearly, and

it remained—for ten minutes! Much longer remained the impression of his energetic talk—his clear-headed way o

ts; and then, you know, I always had a weakness for machinery; I could stand for

ike to be a

—at least, very few can. After all, it isn’t the trade that signifies—it’s the man. I’m a tanner, and a capital tanner I in

avid! this one month at least l

free, Arcadian life; the very thought of it was

involuntarily felt much as I did, if h

k with flowers—what a pretty blue cluster that is at your foot, Phineas!—who would guess that all yesterday I had been stirri

so bad, indeed; and if they

have done me good service, and will yet, tho

ies on the Flat. See, how large the figure looks

rpina gathe

the fa

e looks very like your friend Grey

suspect that fact had presented itself to him

a fatality about

id; and we both chanced again to hit upon the same,” answered John, gravely and expl

and good. Also, as I laboured in vain to convince my companion, the said face indicated an independent dignity which wou

having, in his journeys up and down the country for my father, occasionally fallen into “poli

took the knot of etiquette in

ing, and probably our breakfast-hours likewise,

we had a disti

s droop, as she looked for a moment at us both—a quiet, maidenly look of mere observation. Of course no recognition passed; but there was

little arms to come to her, with that pretty, babyish gesture which I suppose no w

ir, all gathered up in a mass of curls at the top of her head, as the fashion then was. As she stood, with her eyes sparkling, and the

s look, John th

he with Mrs. Tod’s bonny boy, until the landlady made some remark about “letting the gentlemen b

r, such a pleasant creature was she to behold. She half smiled—he bowed, which she returned, courteou

ivility between two people living unde

ably

t our window, contemplating the little group which filled up our wicket-gate, he mis

ery much better no

though there had been some lapse of time before I hazarded this remark,

l, with those irregular features, I ca

or

I think, John, for the first time in ou

rtainly

what is called ‘society.’ Which makes it the more likely that her father

odd coin

reply John relapse

nicative. Nay, when, as Mrs. Tod was removing the breakfast, I ventured to ask her a harmless question or two—who Mr. March was,

before, I had gained the desired information—namely, that Mr. March was a gentleman of i

be our Mr.

, with an air o

hbours, and especially—which was plain enough to see, though he doubtless believed he entirely disguised it—for that interest which a young man o

d to our very doors; we hardly notice it, or send it away with a laugh; it comes so naturally, so simply, so accidentally, as it were, that we recognise it not. W

naturally to open. There is a time—a sweet time, too, though it does not last—when to every y

ither; and then, thinking I had fallen asleep, he sat w

g else was stirring; not a single bird was to be seen or heard, except that now and then came a coo of the wood-pigeons among the beech-trees—a low, tender voice—reminding

at strange quiver about his mouth?—why that wonderful

to him as brief as a minute. To me it was long—ah, so long! as I lay pondering with an intensity that was