Little Lord Fauntleroy
old man's increasing affection for the boy.
But it was not long before he had other pangs, so much harder to face
that he almost forgot, for the time, he had ever hated his son's wife at
all. And in a strange and startling way it happened. One evening, just
before the Earl's Court cottages were completed, there was a grand
dinner party at Dorincourt. There had not been such a party at the
Castle for a long time. A few days before it took place, Sir Harry
Lorridaile and Lady Lorridaile, who was the Earl's only sister, actually
came for a visit--a thing which caused the greatest excitement in the
village and set Mrs. Dibble's shop-bell tinkling madly again, because
it was well known that Lady Lorridaile had only been to Dorincourt once
since her marriage, thirty-five years before. She was a handsome old
lady with white curls and dimpled, peachy cheeks, and she was as good
as gold, but she had never approved of her brother any more than did the
rest of the world, and having a strong will of her own and not being
at all afraid to speak her mind frankly, she had, after several lively
quarrels with his lordship, seen very little of him since her young
days.
She had heard a great deal of him that was not pleasant through the
years in which they had been separated. She had heard about his neglect
of his wife, and of the poor lady's death; and of his indifference to
his children; and of the two weak, vicious, unprepossessing elder boys
who had been no credit to him or to any one else. Those two elder
sons, Bevis and Maurice, she had never seen; but once there had come to
Lorridaile Park a tall, stalwart, beautiful young fellow about eighteen
years old, who had told her that he was her nephew Cedric Errol, and
that he had come to see her because he was passing near the place and
wished to look at his Aunt Constantia of whom he had heard his mother
speak. Lady Lorridaile's kind heart had warmed through and through at
the sight of the young man, and she had made him stay with her a week,
and petted him, and made much of him and admired him immensely. He was
so sweet-tempered, light-hearted, spirited a lad, that when he went
away, she had hoped to see him often again; but she never did, because
the Earl had been in a bad humor when he went back to Dorincourt,
and had forbidden him ever to go to Lorridaile Park again. But Lady
Lorridaile had always remembered him tenderly, and though she feared he
had made a rash marriage in America, she had been very angry when she
heard how he had been cast off by his father and that no one really knew
where or how he lived. At last there came a rumor of his death, and then
Bevis had been thrown from his horse and killed, and Maurice had died in
Rome of the fever; and soon after came the story of the American child
who was to be found and brought home as Lord Fauntleroy.
“Probably to be ruined as the others were,” she said to her husband,
“unless his mother is good enough and has a will of her own to help her
to take care of him.”
But when she heard that Cedric's mother had been parted from him she was
almost too indignant for words.
“It is disgraceful, Harry!” she said. “Fancy a child of that age being
taken from his mother, and made the companion of a man like my brother!
He will either be brutal to the boy or indulge him until he is a little
monster. If I thought it would do any good to write----”
“It wouldn't, Constantia,” said Sir Harry.
“I know it wouldn't,” she answered. “I know his lordship the Earl of
Dorincourt too well;--but it is outrageous.”
Not only the poor people and farmers heard about little Lord Fauntleroy;
others knew him. He was talked about so much and there were so many
stories of him--of his beauty, his sweet temper, his popularity, and
his growing influence over the Earl, his grandfather--that rumors of him
reached the gentry at their country places and he was heard of in
more than one county of England. People talked about him at the dinner
tables, ladies pitied his young mother, and wondered if the boy were as
handsome as he was said to be, and men who knew the Earl and his habits
laughed heartily at the stories of the little fellow's belief in his
lordship's amiability. Sir Thomas Asshe of Asshawe Hall, being in
Erleboro one day, met the Earl and his grandson riding together, and
stopped to shake hands with my lord and congratulate him on his change
of looks and on his recovery from the gout. “And, d' ye know,” he said,
when he spoke of the incident afterward, “the old man looked as proud as
a turkey-cock; and upon my word I don't wonder, for a handsomer, finer
lad than his grandson I never saw! As straight as a dart, and sat his
pony like a young trooper!”
And so by degrees Lady Lorridaile, too, heard of the child; she heard
about Higgins and the lame boy, and the cottages at Earl's Court, and a
score of other things,--and she began to wish to see the little fellow.
And just as she was wondering how it might be brought about, to her
utter astonishment, she received a letter from her brother inviting her
to come with her husband to Dorincourt.
“It seems incredible!” she exclaimed. “I have heard it said that the
child has worked miracles, and I begin to believe it. They say my
brother adores the boy and can scarcely endure to have him out of sight.
And he is so proud of him! Actually, I believe he wants to show him to
us.” And she accepted the invitation at once.
When she reached Dorincourt Castle with Sir Harry, it was late in the
afternoon, and she went to her room at once before seeing her brother.
Having dressed for dinner, she entered the drawing-room. The Earl was
there standing near the fire and looking very tall and imposing; and at
his side stood a little boy in black velvet, and a large Vandyke collar
of rich lace--a little fellow whose round bright face was so handsome,
and who turned upon her such beautiful, candid brown eyes, that she
almost uttered an exclamation of pleasure and surprise at the sight.
As she shook hands with the Earl, she called him by the name she had not
used since her girlhood.
“What, Molyneux!” she said, “is this the child?”
“Yes, Constantia,” answered the Earl, “this is the boy. Fauntleroy, this
is your grand-aunt, Lady Lorridaile.”
“How do you do, Grand-Aunt?” said Fauntleroy.
Lady Lorridaile put her hand on his shoulders, and after looking down
into his upraised face a few seconds, kissed him warmly.
“I am your Aunt Constantia,” she said, “and I loved your poor papa, and
you are very like him.”
“It makes me glad when I am told I am like him,” answered Fauntleroy,
“because it seems as if every one liked him,--just like Dearest,
eszackly,--Aunt Constantia” (adding the two words after a second's
pause).
Lady Lorridaile was delighted. She bent and kissed him again, and from
that moment they were warm friends.
“Well, Molyneux,” she said aside to the Earl afterward, “it could not
possibly be better than this!”
“I think not,” answered his lordship dryly. “He is a fine little
fellow. We are great friends. He believes me to be the most charming
and sweet-tempered of philanthropists. I will confess to you,
Constantia,--as you would find it out if I did not,--that I am in some
slight danger of becoming rather an old fool about him.”
“What does his mother think of you?” asked Lady Lorridaile, with her
usual straightforwardness.
“I have not asked her,” answered the Earl, slightly scowling.
“Well,” said Lady Lorridaile, “I will be frank with you at the outset,
Molyneux, and tell you I don't approve of your course, and that it is my
intention to call on Mrs. Errol as soon as possible; so if you wish to
quarrel with me, you had better mention it at once. What I hear of the
young creature makes me quite sure that her child owes her everything.
We were told even at Lorridaile Park that your poorer tenants adore her
already.”
“They adore HIM,” said the Earl, nodding toward Fauntleroy. “As to Mrs.
Errol, you'll find her a pretty little woman. I'm rather in debt to her
for giving some of her beauty to the boy, and you can go to see her if
you like. All I ask is that she will remain at Court Lodge and that you
will not ask me to go and see her,” and he scowled a little again.
“But he doesn't hate her as much as he used to, that is plain enough to
me,” her ladyship said to Sir Harry afterward. “And he is a changed man
in a measure, and, incredible as it may seem, Harry, it is my opinion
that he is being made into a human being, through nothing more nor less
than his affection for that innocent, affectionate little fellow. Why,
the child actually loves him--leans on his chair and against his knee.
His own children would as soon have thought of nestling up to a tiger.”
The very next day she went to call upon Mrs. Errol. When she returned,
she said to her brother:
“Molyneux, she is the loveliest little woman I ever saw! She has a voice
like a silver bell, and you may thank her for making the boy what he is.
She has given him more than her beauty, and you make a great mistake in
not persuading her to come and take charge of you. I shall invite her to
Lorridaile.”
“She'll not leave the boy,” replied the Earl.
“I must have the boy too,” said Lady Lorridaile, laughing.
But she knew Fauntleroy would not be given up to her, and each day she
saw more clearly how closely those two had grown to each other, and
how all the proud, grim old man's ambition and hope and love centered
themselves in the child, and how the warm, innocent nature returned his
affection with most perfect trust and good faith.
She knew, too, that the prime reason for the great dinner party was the
Earl's secret desire to show the world his grandson and heir, and to let
people see that the boy who had been so much spoken of and described was
even a finer little specimen of boyhood than rumor had made him.
“Bevis and Maurice were such a bitter humiliation to him,” she said to
her husband. “Every one knew it. He actually hated them. His pride
has full sway here.” Perhaps there was not one person who accepted the
invitation without feeling some curiosity about little Lord Fauntleroy,
and wondering if he would be on view.
And when the time came he was on view.
“The lad has good manners,” said the Earl. “He will be in no one's
way. Children are usually idiots or bores,--mine were both,--but he can
actually answer when he's spoken to, and be silent when he is not. He is
never offensive.”
But he was not allowed to be silent very long. Every one had something
to say to him. The fact was they wished to make him talk. The ladies
petted him and asked him questions, and the men asked him questions too,
and joked with him, as the men on the steamer had done when he crossed
the Atlantic. Fauntleroy did not quite understand why they laughed so
sometimes when he answered them, but he was so used to seeing people
amused when he was quite serious, that he did not mind. He thought the
whole evening delightful. The magnificent rooms were so brilliant with
lights, there were so many flowers, the gentlemen seemed so gay, and
the ladies wore such beautiful, wonderful dresses, and such sparkling
ornaments in their hair and on their necks. There was one young lady
who, he heard them say, had just come down from London, where she had
spent the “season”; and she was so charming that he could not keep his
eyes from her. She was a rather tall young lady with a proud little
head, and very soft dark hair, and large eyes the color of purple
pansies, and the color on her cheeks and lips was like that of a rose.
She was dressed in a beautiful white dress, and had pearls around her
throat. There was one strange thing about this young lady. So many
gentlemen stood near her, and seemed anxious to please her, that