Little Lord Fauntleroy
like a pauper because I have done nothing for her! She wants to give the
boy a bad opinion of me! I suppose she has poisoned his mind against me
already!”
“No,” said Mr. Havisham. “I have another message, which will prove to
you that she has not done that.”
“I don't want to hear it!” panted the Earl, out of breath with anger and
excitement and gout.
But Mr. Havisham delivered it.
“She asks you not to let Lord Fauntleroy hear anything which would
lead him to understand that you separate him from her because of your
prejudice against her. He is very fond of her, and she is convinced that
it would cause a barrier to exist between you. She says he would not
comprehend it, and it might make him fear you in some measure, or at
least cause him to feel less affection for you. She has told him that
he is too young to understand the reason, but shall hear it when he is
older. She wishes that there should be no shadow on your first meeting.”
The Earl sank back into his chair. His deep-set fierce old eyes gleamed
under his beetling brows.
“Come, now!” he said, still breathlessly. “Come, now! You don't mean the
mother hasn't told him?”
“Not one word, my lord,” replied the lawyer coolly. “That I can
assure you. The child is prepared to believe you the most amiable and
affectionate of grandparents. Nothing--absolutely nothing has been said
to him to give him the slightest doubt of your perfection. And as
I carried out your commands in every detail, while in New York, he
certainly regards you as a wonder of generosity.”
“He does, eh?” said the Earl.
“I give you my word of honor,” said Mr. Havisham, “that Lord
Fauntleroy's impressions of you will depend entirely upon yourself. And
if you will pardon the liberty I take in making the suggestion, I think
you will succeed better with him if you take the precaution not to speak
slightingly of his mother.”
“Pooh, pooh!” said the Earl. “The youngster is only seven years old!”
“He has spent those seven years at his mother's side,” returned Mr.
Havisham; “and she has all his affection.”
V
It was late in the afternoon when the carriage containing little Lord
Fauntleroy and Mr. Havisham drove up the long avenue which led to the
castle. The Earl had given orders that his grandson should arrive in
time to dine with him; and for some reason best known to himself, he had
also ordered that the child should be sent alone into the room in which
he intended to receive him. As the carriage rolled up the avenue, Lord
Fauntleroy sat leaning comfortably against the luxurious cushions, and
regarded the prospect with great interest. He was, in fact, interested
in everything he saw. He had been interested in the carriage, with
its large, splendid horses and their glittering harness; he had been
interested in the tall coachman and footman, with their resplendent
livery; and he had been especially interested in the coronet on the
panels, and had struck up an acquaintance with the footman for the
purpose of inquiring what it meant.
When the carriage reached the great gates of the park, he looked out of
the window to get a good view of the huge stone lions ornamenting the
entrance. The gates were opened by a motherly, rosy-looking woman, who
came out of a pretty, ivy-covered lodge. Two children ran out of the
door of the house and stood looking with round, wide-open eyes at the
little boy in the carriage, who looked at them also. Their mother stood
courtesying and smiling, and the children, on receiving a sign from her,
made bobbing little courtesies too.
“Does she know me?” asked Lord Fauntleroy. “I think she must think she
knows me.” And he took off his black velvet cap to her and smiled.
“How do you do?” he said brightly. “Good-afternoon!”
The woman seemed pleased, he thought. The smile broadened on her rosy
face and a kind look came into her blue eyes.
“God bless your lordship!” she said. “God bless your pretty face! Good
luck and happiness to your lordship! Welcome to you!”
Lord Fauntleroy waved his cap and nodded to her again as the carriage
rolled by her.
“I like that woman,” he said. “She looks as if she liked boys. I should
like to come here and play with her children. I wonder if she has enough
to make up a company?”
Mr. Havisham did not tell him that he would scarcely be allowed to make
playmates of the gate-keeper's children. The lawyer thought there was
time enough for giving him that information.
The carriage rolled on and on between the great, beautiful trees which
grew on each side of the avenue and stretched their broad, swaying
branches in an arch across it. Cedric had never seen such trees,--they
were so grand and stately, and their branches grew so low down on their
huge trunks. He did not then know that Dorincourt Castle was one of the
most beautiful in all England; that its park was one of the broadest and
finest, and its trees and avenue almost without rivals. But he did know
that it was all very beautiful. He liked the big, broad-branched trees,
with the late afternoon sunlight striking golden lances through them. He
liked the perfect stillness which rested on everything. He felt a great,
strange pleasure in the beauty of which he caught glimpses under and
between the sweeping boughs--the great, beautiful spaces of the park,
with still other trees standing sometimes stately and alone, and
sometimes in groups. Now and then they passed places where tall ferns
grew in masses, and again and again the ground was azure with the
bluebells swaying in the soft breeze. Several times he started up with
a laugh of delight as a rabbit leaped up from under the greenery and
scudded away with a twinkle of short white tail behind it. Once a covey
of partridges rose with a sudden whir and flew away, and then he shouted
and clapped his hands.
“It's a beautiful place, isn't it?” he said to Mr. Havisham. “I never
saw such a beautiful place. It's prettier even than Central Park.”
He was rather puzzled by the length of time they were on their way.
“How far is it,” he said, at length, “from the gate to the front door?”
“It is between three and four miles,” answered the lawyer.
“That's a long way for a person to live from his gate,” remarked his
lordship.
Every few minutes he saw something new to wonder at and admire. When he
caught sight of the deer, some couched in the grass, some standing with
their pretty antlered heads turned with a half-startled air toward the
avenue as the carriage wheels disturbed them, he was enchanted.
“Has there been a circus?” he cried; “or do they live here always? Whose
are they?”
“They live here,” Mr. Havisham told him. “They belong to the Earl, your
grandfather.”
It was not long after this that they saw the castle. It rose up before
them stately and beautiful and gray, the last rays of the sun casting
dazzling lights on its many windows. It had turrets and battlements and
towers; a great deal of ivy grew upon its walls; all the broad, open
space about it was laid out in terraces and lawns and beds of brilliant
flowers.
“It's the most beautiful place I ever saw!” said Cedric, his round face
flushing with pleasure. “It reminds any one of a king's palace. I saw a
picture of one once in a fairy-book.”
He saw the great entrance-door thrown open and many servants standing in
two lines looking at him. He wondered why they were standing there, and
admired their liveries very much. He did not know that they were there
to do honor to the little boy to whom all this splendor would one
day belong,--the beautiful castle like the fairy king's palace, the
magnificent park, the grand old trees, the dells full of ferns and
bluebells where the hares and rabbits played, the dappled, large-eyed
deer couching in the deep grass. It was only a couple of weeks since he
had sat with Mr. Hobbs among the potatoes and canned peaches, with his
legs dangling from the high stool; it would not have been possible for
him to realize that he had very much to do with all this grandeur. At
the head of the line of servants there stood an elderly woman in a rich,
plain black silk gown; she had gray hair and wore a cap. As he entered
the hall she stood nearer than the rest, and the child thought from the
look in her eyes that she was going to speak to him. Mr. Havisham, who
held his hand, paused a moment.
“This is Lord Fauntleroy, Mrs. Mellon,” he said. “Lord Fauntleroy, this
is Mrs. Mellon, who is the housekeeper.”
Cedric gave her his hand, his eyes lighting up.
“Was it you who sent the cat?” he said. “I'm much obliged to you,
ma'am.”
Mrs. Mellon's handsome old face looked as pleased as the face of the
lodge-keeper's wife had done.
“I should know his lordship anywhere,” she said to Mr. Havisham. “He has
the Captain's face and way. It's a great day, this, sir.”
Cedric wondered why it was a great day. He looked at Mrs. Mellon
curiously. It seemed to him for a moment as if there were tears in her
eyes, and yet it was evident she was not unhappy. She smiled down on
him.
“The cat left two beautiful kittens here,” she said; “they shall be sent
up to your lordship's nursery.”
Mr. Havisham said a few words to her in a low voice.
“In the library, sir,” Mrs. Mellon replied. “His lordship is to be taken
there alone.”
A few minutes later, the very tall footman in livery, who had escorted
Cedric to the library door, opened it and announced: “Lord Fauntleroy,
my lord,” in quite a majestic tone. If he was only a footman, he felt it
was rather a grand occasion when the heir came home to his own land and
possessions, and was ushered into the presence of the old Earl, whose
place and title he was to take.
Cedric crossed the threshold into the room. It was a very large and
splendid room, with massive carven furniture in it, and shelves upon
shelves of books; the furniture was so dark, and the draperies so heavy,
the diamond-paned windows were so deep, and it seemed such a distance
from one end of it to the other, that, since the sun had gone down, the
effect of it all was rather gloomy. For a moment Cedric thought there
was nobody in the room, but soon he saw that by the fire burning on the
wide hearth there was a large easy-chair and that in that chair some one
was sitting--some one who did not at first turn to look at him.
But he had attracted attention in one quarter at least. On the floor,
by the arm-chair, lay a dog, a huge tawny mastiff, with body and limbs
almost as big as a lion's; and this great creature rose majestically and
slowly, and marched toward the little fellow with a heavy step.
Then the person in the chair spoke. “Dougal,” he called, “come back,
sir.”
But there was no more fear in little Lord Fauntleroy's heart than there
was unkindness--he had been a brave little fellow all his life. He put
his hand on the big dog's collar in the most natural way in the world,
and they strayed forward together, Dougal sniffing as he went.
And then the Earl looked up. What Cedric saw was a large old man with
shaggy white hair and eyebrows, and a nose like an eagle's beak between
his deep, fierce eyes. What the Earl saw was a graceful, childish figure
in a black velvet suit, with a lace collar, and with love-locks waving
about the handsome, manly little face, whose eyes met his with a look of
innocent good-fellowship. If the Castle was like the palace in a fairy
story, it must be owned that little Lord Fauntleroy was himself rather
like a small copy of the fairy prince, though he was not at all aware
of the fact, and perhaps was rather a sturdy young model of a fairy.
But there was a sudden glow of triumph and exultation in the fiery old
Earl's heart as he saw what a strong, beautiful boy this grandson was,
and how unhesitatingly he looked up as he stood with his hand on the big