An English Squire. Coleridge Christabel Rose
all be so ready at foreign languages and so accommodating, shouldn’t we?”
Alvar’s individuality was not to be ignored, though unfortunately it was very distasteful to his kindred. He was so dignified, so terribly polite they were half afraid of him, and as the awe wore off, they wanted to quarrel with him. He announced that he loved riding, and seemed to know something of horses; he played billiards much too well to be a pleasant opponent to his father, he sang much too quaintly and prettily for his family to appreciate, and he played the guitar! Even Cheriton wished it had been a fiddle. He hated going to walk, smoked incessantly, and was indifferent to every one except Cheriton, to whom he deferred in everything.
Poor Cheriton! “Among the blind, the one-eyed is king,” and his sentiments were amazingly liberal for Oakby; but he was very young and deeply attached to his home and his surroundings, too tender-hearted not to be touched at Alvar’s preference, imaginative enough to realise his position, and yet repelled and put out of countenance by his peculiarities. To be tenderly addressed as “my brother,” “mi caro,” “mi Cheriton,” “Cherito mio,” to be deferred to on all occasions, and even told in the hearing of Jack and Bob “that his eyes when he laughed were the colour of the Mediterranean on a sunny day,” was, as he said, “so out-facing, that it made him feel a perfect fool,” especially when his brothers echoed it at every turn.
Yet he put up with it. It was so hard on the poor fellow if no one was kind to him! So hard, he added to himself, to be an unloved and unloving son.
Perhaps, after all, Alvar’s essential strangeness prevented Cheriton from feeling himself put aside.
Cheriton was very popular at school and at college. He had strong, intellectual ambitions, and though of less powerful mind than Jack, had attained to much graceful scholarship and possessed much command of language. He hoped to take honours, to go to the bar, and distinguish himself there under his uncle, Judge Cheriton’s, auspices. He had too a further and a sweeter hope, hitherto confided to no one.
But it was a certain “genius for loving” that really distinguished him from his fellows – really made him every one’s friend. He did not seek out his poorer neighbours so much from a sense of duty, as because his heart went out to every one belonging to Oakby, nay, every animal, every bit of ground – nothing was a trouble that conduced to the welfare of the place. This loving-kindness was a natural gift; but Cheriton made good use of it. He had high principles, and deep within his soul, struggling with the temptations of this ardent nature, were the pure aspirations and the capability of fervent piety which have made saints – responsibilities with which he was born.
But all this fire and force did not make tolerance easy; he was full of instinctive prejudices, and perhaps his greatest aids in his dealings with his new brother were his joyous unchecked spirits and the keen sense of the ludicrous that enabled him to laugh at himself as well as at other people.
Some little time after Alvar’s arrival there was a deep fall of snow, and while the pond was being swept for skating, the young Lesters, with Harry Seyton and the children from the rectory, who had come up for the purpose, proceeded to erect a snow man of gigantic proportions in front of the house.
“What a fright you have made of him!” said Cheriton, coming up with Alvar as they finished; “he has no nose and no expression.”
“Well, come and do his nose, then; it keeps on coming off,” said Nettie, who was standing on a bench to put the finishing touches.
Cherry was nothing loath, and was soon engaged in moulding the snowy countenance with the skill of long practice, while Alvar, with his great crimson-lined cloak wrapped about him, stood looking on.
“Give him a good lumpy nose, that won’t melt,” said Cherry. “There, he’s lovely! got an old pipe for him?”
As he spoke a great snowball came stinging against his face, and in a moment, to the astonishment of Alvar, the whole party set on Cherry, and a wild bout of snowballing ensued.
“No, no, that’s not fair! I can’t fight you all,” shouted Cherry; “and you’ve got all your snowballs ready made. Give me the girls, and then – Come on.”
“Oh, yes, yes; we’ll be on Cherry’s side,” cried Nettie.
It was a picturesque scene enough – the pale blue sky overhead, the dazzling snow under foot, the little girls in their scarlet cloaks or petticoats, their long hair flying as they darted in and out, the great boys struggling, wrestling, knocking each other about with small mercy. No one threw a snowball at Alvar; perhaps they had forgotten him, as he stood silently watching them as if they were a troop of Berserkers, till the contest terminated in a tremendous struggle between Cheriton and Jack, who were, of course, much the biggest of the party. Cherry was getting decidedly the worst of it, and either tripped in the rough snow or was thrown down into it by Jack, when suddenly Alvar threw off his cloak, stepped forward, and seizing Jack by the shoulders, pulled him back with sudden irresistible force.
“By Jove!” was all that Jack could utter.
“What on earth did you do that for?” ejaculated Cherry as soon as he gained his breath and his feet.
“He might have hurt you, my brother,” said Alvar, who looked flushed, and for once excited. “And besides, I am stronger than either of you. I could struggle with you both.”
“Hurt me? Suppose he had?” said Cherry disdainfully. “But, Jack – Jack, I do believe you’re getting too many for me at last.”
“That is what you call athletics,” said Alvar, who looked unusually bright.
“Yes; wrestling is a regular north-country game, and the fellows about here have taught us all the tricks of it. Come, Jack, let us show him a bout.”
The two brothers pulled off their coats, and set to with a will; and after a long struggle, and with considerable difficulty, Cheriton succeeded in throwing Jack.
“There, I’ve done it once more!” he said breathlessly, “and I don’t suppose I shall ever do it again. You’re getting much stronger than I am, and of course you’re heavier.”
“Let me try to throw you down,” said Alvar eagerly.
“Nay, Jack may have first turn; but it’s fair to tell you there’s a great deal of knack in it.”
Alvar, however, was man instead of boy; he was quite as tall as Jack, and however he might have learnt to exercise his muscles, his grasp was like steel; and though Jack’s superior skill triumphed in the end, Alvar rose up cool and smiling, and Jack panted out, in half-unwilling admiration, —
“You’d beat us all with a little training.”
“Ah yes; that is because I am an Englishman,” said Alvar complacently. “But I bear no malice, Jack. It is in sport.”
“Of course,” said Jack. “Now, Cherry, you try.”
“It’s hardly fair in a biting frost,” said Cherry; “nobody can have any wind. However, here’s for the honour of Westmoreland.”
The younger ones gathered round in an admiring circle, and Cheriton, who did not like to be beaten, put forth all the strength and skill of which he was master. But he was the more slightly made, and had met his match, and to the extreme chagrin of his brothers and Nettie, sustained an entire defeat.
“Well, I never thought you would throw him,” said Jack, in a tone of deep disappointment.
“Ah,” said Alvar, “they always called me the strong Englishman.”
“Papa was the strongest man in Westmoreland,” said Nettie.
“Then,” said Alvar, “so far I have proved myself his son, and your brother. I would not skate with you, for I should look like a fool; but I knew you could not easily throw me down, since that is your sport. But, my brother, I have hurt you.”
“No,” said Cheriton getting up, “only knocked all the wind out of me, and made me look like a fool! Never mind, we shall understand each other all the better. Come upstairs, and we will show you some of the cups