Little Lord Fauntleroy
The lawyer slightly cleared his throat. It touched his worldly, hard old
heart to see the tender, timid look in her brown eyes.
“I think, madam,” he said, “that if I may judge from my interview with
Lord Fauntleroy this morning, the next Earl of Dorincourt will think
for others as well as for his noble self. He is only a child yet, but I
think he may be trusted.”
Then his mother went for Cedric and brought him back into the parlor.
Mr. Havisham heard him talking before he entered the room.
“It's infam-natory rheumatism,” he was saying, “and that's a kind of
rheumatism that's dreadful. And he thinks about the rent not being paid,
and Bridget says that makes the inf'ammation worse. And Pat could get a
place in a store if he had some clothes.”
His little face looked quite anxious when he came in. He was very sorry
for Bridget.
“Dearest said you wanted me,” he said to Mr. Havisham. “I've been
talking to Bridget.”
Mr. Havisham looked down at him a moment. He felt a little awkward and
undecided. As Cedric's mother had said, he was a very little boy.
“The Earl of Dorincourt----” he began, and then he glanced involuntarily
at Mrs. Errol.
Little Lord Fauntleroy's mother suddenly kneeled down by him and put
both her tender arms around his childish body.
“Ceddie,” she said, “the Earl is your grandpapa, your own papa's father.
He is very, very kind, and he loves you and wishes you to love him,
because the sons who were his little boys are dead. He wishes you to be
happy and to make other people happy. He is very rich, and he wishes you
to have everything you would like to have. He told Mr. Havisham so, and
gave him a great deal of money for you. You can give some to Bridget
now; enough to pay her rent and buy Michael everything. Isn't that fine,
Ceddie? Isn't he good?” And she kissed the child on his round cheek,
where the bright color suddenly flashed up in his excited amazement.
He looked from his mother to Mr. Havisham.
“Can I have it now?” he cried. “Can I give it to her this minute? She's
just going.”
Mr. Havisham handed him the money. It was in fresh, clean greenbacks and
made a neat roll.
Ceddie flew out of the room with it.
“Bridget!” they heard him shout, as he tore into the kitchen. “Bridget,
wait a minute! Here's some money. It's for you, and you can pay the
rent. My grandpapa gave it to me. It's for you and Michael!”
“Oh, Master Ceddie!” cried Bridget, in an awe-stricken voice. “It's
twinty-foive dollars is here. Where be's the misthress?”
“I think I shall have to go and explain it to her,” Mrs. Errol said.
So she, too, went out of the room and Mr. Havisham was left alone for
a while. He went to the window and stood looking out into the street
reflectively. He was thinking of the old Earl of Dorincourt, sitting
in his great, splendid, gloomy library at the castle, gouty and lonely,
surrounded by grandeur and luxury, but not really loved by any one,
because in all his long life he had never really loved any one but
himself; he had been selfish and self-indulgent and arrogant and
passionate; he had cared so much for the Earl of Dorincourt and his
pleasures that there had been no time for him to think of other people;
all his wealth and power, all the benefits from his noble name and high
rank, had seemed to him to be things only to be used to amuse and give
pleasure to the Earl of Dorincourt; and now that he was an old man, all
this excitement and self-indulgence had only brought him ill health and
irritability and a dislike of the world, which certainly disliked him.
In spite of all his splendor, there was never a more unpopular old
nobleman than the Earl of Dorincourt, and there could scarcely have been
a more lonely one. He could fill his castle with guests if he chose. He
could give great dinners and splendid hunting parties; but he knew that
in secret the people who would accept his invitations were afraid of his
frowning old face and sarcastic, biting speeches. He had a cruel tongue
and a bitter nature, and he took pleasure in sneering at people and
making them feel uncomfortable, when he had the power to do so, because
they were sensitive or proud or timid.
Mr. Havisham knew his hard, fierce ways by heart, and he was thinking
of him as he looked out of the window into the narrow, quiet street. And
there rose in his mind, in sharp contrast, the picture of the cheery,
handsome little fellow sitting in the big chair and telling his story of
his friends, Dick and the apple-woman, in his generous, innocent, honest
way. And he thought of the immense income, the beautiful, majestic
estates, the wealth, and power for good or evil, which in the course of
time would lie in the small, chubby hands little Lord Fauntleroy thrust
so deep into his pockets.
“It will make a great difference,” he said to himself. “It will make a
great difference.”
Cedric and his mother came back soon after. Cedric was in high spirits.
He sat down in his own chair, between his mother and the lawyer, and
fell into one of his quaint attitudes, with his hands on his knees. He
was glowing with enjoyment of Bridget's relief and rapture.
“She cried!” he said. “She said she was crying for joy! I never saw any
one cry for joy before. My grandpapa must be a very good man. I didn't
know he was so good a man. It's more--more agreeabler to be an earl than
I thought it was. I'm almost glad--I'm almost QUITE glad I'm going to be
one.”
III
Cedric's good opinion of the advantages of being an earl increased
greatly during the next week. It seemed almost impossible for him to
realize that there was scarcely anything he might wish to do which he
could not do easily; in fact, I think it may be said that he did
not fully realize it at all. But at least he understood, after a few
conversations with Mr. Havisham, that he could gratify all his nearest
wishes, and he proceeded to gratify them with a simplicity and delight
which caused Mr. Havisham much diversion. In the week before they sailed
for England he did many curious things. The lawyer long after remembered
the morning they went down-town together to pay a visit to Dick, and the
afternoon they so amazed the apple-woman of ancient lineage by stopping
before her stall and telling her she was to have a tent, and a stove,
and a shawl, and a sum of money which seemed to her quite wonderful.
“For I have to go to England and be a lord,” explained Cedric,
sweet-temperedly. “And I shouldn't like to have your bones on my mind
every time it rained. My own bones never hurt, so I think I don't know
how painful a person's bones can be, but I've sympathized with you a
great deal, and I hope you'll be better.”
“She's a very good apple-woman,” he said to Mr. Havisham, as they walked
away, leaving the proprietress of the stall almost gasping for breath,
and not at all believing in her great fortune. “Once, when I fell
down and cut my knee, she gave me an apple for nothing. I've always
remembered her for it. You know you always remember people who are kind
to you.”
It had never occurred to his honest, simple little mind that there were
people who could forget kindnesses.
The interview with Dick was quite exciting. Dick had just been having
a great deal of trouble with Jake, and was in low spirits when they saw
him. His amazement when Cedric calmly announced that they had come to
give him what seemed a very great thing to him, and would set all his
troubles right, almost struck him dumb. Lord Fauntleroy's manner of
announcing the object of his visit was very simple and unceremonious.
Mr. Havisham was much impressed by its directness as he stood by and
listened. The statement that his old friend had become a lord, and was
in danger of being an earl if he lived long enough, caused Dick to
so open his eyes and mouth, and start, that his cap fell off. When he
picked it up, he uttered a rather singular exclamation. Mr. Havisham
thought it singular, but Cedric had heard it before.
“I soy!” he said, “what're yer givin' us?” This plainly embarrassed his
lordship a little, but he bore himself bravely.
“Everybody thinks it not true at first,” he said. “Mr. Hobbs thought
I'd had a sunstroke. I didn't think I was going to like it myself, but I
like it better now I'm used to it. The one who is the Earl now, he's my
grandpapa; and he wants me to do anything I like. He's very kind, if
he IS an earl; and he sent me a lot of money by Mr. Havisham, and I've
brought some to you to buy Jake out.”
And the end of the matter was that Dick actually bought Jake out, and
found himself the possessor of the business and some new brushes and a
most astonishing sign and outfit. He could not believe in his good luck
any more easily than the apple-woman of ancient lineage could believe
in hers; he walked about like a boot-black in a dream; he stared at
his young benefactor and felt as if he might wake up at any moment. He
scarcely seemed to realize anything until Cedric put out his hand to
shake hands with him before going away.
“Well, good-bye,” he said; and though he tried to speak steadily, there
was a little tremble in his voice and he winked his big brown eyes.
“And I hope trade'll be good. I'm sorry I'm going away to leave you, but
perhaps I shall come back again when I'm an earl. And I wish you'd write
to me, because we were always good friends. And if you write to me,
here's where you must send your letter.” And he gave him a slip of
paper. “And my name isn't Cedric Errol any more; it's Lord Fauntleroy
and--and good-bye, Dick.”
Dick winked his eyes also, and yet they looked rather moist about the
lashes. He was not an educated boot-black, and he would have found it
difficult to tell what he felt just then if he had tried; perhaps that
was why he didn't try, and only winked his eyes and swallowed a lump in
his throat.
“I wish ye wasn't goin' away,” he said in a husky voice. Then he winked
his eyes again. Then he looked at Mr. Havisham, and touched his cap.
“Thanky, sir, fur bringin' him down here an' fur wot ye've done,
He's--he's a queer little feller,” he added. “I've allers thort a heap
of him. He's such a game little feller, an'--an' such a queer little
un.”
And when they turned away he stood and looked after them in a dazed
kind of way, and there was still a mist in his eyes, and a lump in his
throat, as he watched the gallant little figure marching gayly along by
the side of its tall, rigid escort.
Until the day of his departure, his lordship spent as much time as
possible with Mr. Hobbs in the store. Gloom had settled upon Mr. Hobbs;
he was much depressed in spirits. When his young friend brought to him
in triumph the parting gift of a gold watch and chain, Mr. Hobbs found
it difficult to acknowledge it properly. He laid the case on his stout
knee, and blew his nose violently several times.
“There's something written on it,” said Cedric,--“inside the case.
I told the man myself what to say. 'From his oldest friend, Lord
Fauntleroy, to Mr. Hobbs. When this you see, remember me.' I don't want
you to forget me.”
Mr. Hobbs blew his nose very loudly again.
“I sha'n't forget you,” he said, speaking a trifle huskily, as Dick had
spoken; “nor don't you go and forget me when you get among the British
arrystocracy.”
“I shouldn't forget you, whoever I was among,” answered his lordship.
“I've spent my happiest hours with you; at least, some of my happiest
hours. I hope you'll come to see me sometime. I'm sure my grandpapa
would be very much pleased. Perhaps he'll write and ask you, when I tell
him about you. You--you wouldn't mind his being an earl, would you, I
mean you wouldn't stay away just because he was one, if he invited you
to come?”
“I'd come to see you,” replied Mr. Hobbs, graciously.