Two Years Ago, Volume II. Charles Kingsley
will come to nothing. But the truth is, they have heard that you are a great painter, and they have taken it into their heads to ask you to paint a picture for them."
"Not to ask you a favour, sir, mind!" interrupted Jan; "we'd scorn to be so forward; we'll subscribe and pay for it, in course, any price in reason. There's forty and more promised already."
"You must tell me, first, what the picture is to be about," said Claude, puzzled and amused.
"Why didn't you tell the gentleman, Captain?"
"Because I think it is no use; and I told them all so from the first. The truth is, sir, they want a picture of my—of our schoolmistress, to hang up in the school or somewhere—"
"That's it, dra'ed out all natural, in paints, and her bonnet, and her shawl, and all, just like life; we was a going to ax you to do one of they garrytypes; but she would have'n noo price; besides tan't cheerful looking they sort, with your leave; too much blackamoor wise, you see, and over thick about the nozzes, most times, to my liking; so we'll pay you and welcome, all you ask."
"Too much blackamoor wise, indeed!" said Claude, amused. "And how much do you think I should ask?"
No answer.
"We'll settle that presently. Come down into the cabin with me."
"Why, sir, we couldn't make so hold. His lordship—"
"Oh, his lordship's on shore, and I am skipper for the time; and if not, he'd be delighted to see two good seamen here. So come along."
And down they went.
"Bowie, bring these gentlemen some sherry!" cried Claude, turning over his portfolio. "Now then, my worthy friends, is that the sort of thing you want?"
And he spread on the table a water-colour sketch of Grace.
The two worthies gazed in silent delight, and then looked at each other, and then at Claude, and then at the picture.
"Why, sir," said Willis; "I couldn't have believed it! You've got the very smile of her, and the sadness of her too, as if you'd known her a hundred year!"
"'Tis beautiful!" sighed Jan, half to himself. Poor fellow, he had cherished, perhaps, hopes of winning Grace after all.
"Well, will that suit you?"
"Why, sir, make so bold:—but what we thought on was to have her drawn from head to foot, and a child standing by her like, holding to her hand, for a token as she was schoolmistress; and the pier behind, maybe, to signify as she was our maid, and belonged to Aberalva."
"A capital thought! Upon my word, you're men of taste here in the West; but what do you think I should charge for such a picture as that?"
"Name your price, sir," said Jan, who was in high good humour at Claude's approbation.
"Two hundred guineas?"
Jan gave a long whistle.
"I told you so, Captain Beer," said Willis, "or ever we got into the boat."
"Now," said Claude, laughing, "I've two prices, ore's two hundred, and the other is just nothing; and if you won't agree to the one, you must take the other."
"But we wants to pay, we'd take it an honour to pay, if we could afford it."
"Then wait till next Christmas."
"Christmas?"
"My good friend, pictures are not painted in a day. Next Christmas, if I live, I'll send you what you shall not be ashamed of, or she either, and do you club your money and put it into a handsome gold frame."
"But, sir," said Willis, "this will give you a sight of trouble, and all for our fancy."
"I like it, and I like you! You're fine fellows, who know a noble creature when God sends her to you; and I should be ashamed to ask a farthing of your money. There, no more words!"
"Well, you are a gentleman, sir!" said Gentleman Jan.
"And so are you," said Claude. "Now I'll show you some more sketches."
"I should like to know, sir," asked Willis, "how you got at that likeness. She would not hear of the thing, and that's why I had no liking to come troubling you about nothing."
Claude told them, and Jan laughed heartily, while Willis said,—
"Do you know, sir, that's a relief to my mind. There is no sin in being drawn, of course; but I didn't like to think my maid had changed her mind, when once she'd made it up."
So the deputation retired in high glee, after Willis had entreated Claude and Beer to keep the thing a secret from Grace.
It befell that Claude, knowing no reason why he should not tell Frank Headley, told him the whole story, as a proof of the chivalry of his parishioners, in which he would take delight.
Frank smiled, but said little; his opinion of Grace was altering fast. A circumstance which occurred a few days after altered it still more.
Scoutbush had gone forth, as he threatened, and exploded in every direction, with such effect as was to be supposed. Everybody promised his lordship to do everything. But when his lordship's back was turned, everybody did just nothing. They knew very well that he could not make them do anything; and what was more, in some of the very worst cases, the evil was past remedy now, and better left alone. For the drought went on pitiless. A copper sun, a sea of glass, a brown easterly blight, day after day, while Thurnall looked grimly aloft and mystified the sailors with—
"Fine weather for the Flying Dutchman, this!"
"Coffins sail fastest in a calm."
"You'd best all out to the quay-head, and whistle for a wind: it would be an ill one that would blow nobody good just now!"
But the wind came not, nor the rain; and the cholera crept nearer and nearer: while the hearts of all in Aberalva were hardened, and out of very spite against the agitators, they did less than they would have done otherwise. Even the inhabitants of the half-a-dozen cottages, which Scoutbush, finding that they were in his own hands, whitewashed by main force, filled the town with lamentations over his lordship's tyranny. True—their pig-styes were either under their front windows; or within two feet of the wall: but to pull down a poor man's pig-stye!—they might ever so well be Rooshian slaves!—and all the town was on their side; for pigs were the normal inhabitants of Aberalva back-yards.
Tardrew's wrath, of course, knew no bounds; and meeting Thurnall standing at Willis's door, with Frank and Mellot, he fell upon him open-mouthed.
"Well, sir! I've a crow to pick with you."
"Pick away!" quoth Tom.
"What business have you meddling between his lordship and me?"
"That is my concern," quoth Tom, who evidently was not disinclined to quarrel. "I am not here to give an account to you of what I choose to do."
"I'll tell you what, sir; ever since you've been in this parish you've been meddling, you and Mr. Headley too,—I'll say it to your faces,– I'll speak the truth to any man, gentle or simple; and that ain't enough for you, but you must come over that poor half-crazed girl, to set her plaguing honest people, with telling 'em they'll all be dead in a month, till nobody can eat their suppers in peace: and that again ain't enough for you, but you must go to my lord with your—"
"Hold hard!" quoth Tom. "Don't start two hares at once. Let's hear that about Miss Harvey again!"
"Miss Harvey? Why, you should know better than I."
"Let's hear what you know."
"Why, ever since that night Trebooze caught you and her together—"
"Stop!" said Tom, "that's a lie."
"Everybody says so."
"Then everybody lies, that's all; and you may say I said so, and take care you don't say it again yourself. But what ever since that night?"
"Why, I suppose you come over the poor thing somehow, as you seem minded to do over every one as you can. But she's been running up and down the town ever since, preaching to 'em about windilation, and drains, and smells, and cholera,