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<h2> Chapter II </h2>
<p>'Twas on the evening of a winter's day.'<br/></p>
<p>When two or three additional hours had merged the same afternoon in
evening, some moving outlines might have been observed against the sky on
the summit of a wild lone hill in that district. They circumscribed two
men, having at present the aspect of silhouettes, sitting in a dog-cart
and pushing along in the teeth of the wind. Scarcely a solitary house or
man had been visible along the whole dreary distance of open country they
were traversing; and now that night had begun to fall, the faint twilight,
which still gave an idea of the landscape to their observation, was
enlivened by the quiet appearance of the planet Jupiter, momentarily
gleaming in intenser brilliancy in front of them, and by Sirius shedding
his rays in rivalry from his position over their shoulders. The only
lights apparent on earth were some spots of dull red, glowing here and
there upon the distant hills, which, as the driver of the vehicle
gratuitously remarked to the hirer, were smouldering fires for the
consumption of peat and gorse-roots, where the common was being broken up
for agricultural purposes. The wind prevailed with but little abatement
from its daytime boisterousness, three or four small clouds, delicate and
pale, creeping along under the sky southward to the Channel.</p>
<p>Fourteen of the sixteen miles intervening between the railway terminus and
the end of their journey had been gone over, when they began to pass along
the brink of a valley some miles in extent, wherein the wintry skeletons
of a more luxuriant vegetation than had hitherto surrounded them
proclaimed an increased richness of soil, which showed signs of far more
careful enclosure and management than had any slopes they had yet passed.
A little farther, and an opening in the elms stretching up from this
fertile valley revealed a mansion.</p>
<p>'That's Endelstow House, Lord Luxellian's,' said the driver.</p>
<p>'Endelstow House, Lord Luxellian's,' repeated the other mechanically. He
then turned himself sideways, and keenly scrutinized the almost invisible
house with an interest which the indistinct picture itself seemed far from
adequate to create. 'Yes, that's Lord Luxellian's,' he said yet again
after a while, as he still looked in the same direction.</p>
<p>'What, be we going there?'</p>
<p>'No; Endelstow Vicarage, as I have told you.'</p>
<p>'I thought you m't have altered your mind, sir, as ye have stared that way
at nothing so long.'</p>
<p>'Oh no; I am interested in the house, that's all.'</p>
<p>'Most people be, as the saying is.'</p>
<p>'Not in the sense that I am.'</p>
<p>'Oh!...Well, his family is no better than my own, 'a b'lieve.'</p>
<p>'How is that?'</p>
<p>'Hedgers and ditchers by rights. But once in ancient times one of 'em,
when he was at work, changed clothes with King Charles the Second, and
saved the king's life. King Charles came up to him like a common man, and
said off-hand, "Man in the smock-frock, my name is Charles the Second, and
that's the truth on't. Will you lend me your clothes?" "I don't mind if I
do," said Hedger Luxellian; and they changed there and then. "Now mind
ye," King Charles the Second said, like a common man, as he rode away, "if
ever I come to the crown, you come to court, knock at the door, and say
out bold, 'Is King Charles the Second at home?' Tell your name, and they
shall let you in, and you shall be made a lord." Now, that was very nice
of Master Charley?'</p>
<p>'Very nice indeed.'</p>
<p>'Well, as the story is, the king came to the throne; and some years after
that, away went Hedger Luxellian, knocked at the king's door, and asked if
King Charles the Second was in. "No, he isn't," they said. "Then, is
Charles the Third?" said Hedger Luxellian. "Yes," said a young feller
standing by like a common man, only he had a crown on, "my name is Charles
the Third." And——'</p>
<p>'I really fancy that must be a mistake. I don't recollect anything in
English history about Charles the Third,' said the other in a tone of mild
remonstrance.</p>
<p>'Oh, that's right history enough, only 'twasn't prented; he was rather a
queer-tempered man, if you remember.'</p>
<p>'Very well; go on.'</p>
<p>'And, by hook or by crook, Hedger Luxellian was made a lord, and
everything went on well till some time after, when he got into a most
terrible row with King Charles the Fourth.</p>
<p>'I can't stand Charles the Fourth. Upon my word, that's too much.'</p>
<p>'Why? There was a George the Fourth, wasn't there?'</p>
<p>'Certainly.'</p>
<p>'Well, Charleses be as common as Georges. However I'll say no more about
it....Ah, well! 'tis the funniest world ever I lived in—upon my life
'tis. Ah, that such should be!'</p>
<p>The dusk had thickened into darkness while they thus conversed, and the
outline and surface of the mansion gradually disappeared. The windows,
which had before been as black blots on a lighter expanse of wall, became
illuminated, and were transfigured to squares of light on the general dark
body of the night landscape as it absorbed the outlines of the edifice
into its gloomy monochrome.</p>
<p>Not another word was spoken for some time, and they climbed a hill, then
another hill piled on the summit of the first. An additional mile of
plateau followed, from which could be discerned two light-houses on the
coast they were nearing, reposing on the horizon with a calm lustre of
benignity. Another oasis was reached; a little dell lay like a nest at
their feet, towards which the driver pulled the horse at a sharp angle,
and descended a steep slope which dived under the trees like a rabbit's
burrow. They sank lower and lower.</p>
<p>'Endelstow Vicarage is inside here,' continued the man with the reins.
'This part about here is West Endelstow; Lord Luxellian's is East
Endelstow, and has a church to itself. Pa'son Swancourt is the pa'son of
both, and bobs backward and forward. Ah, well! 'tis a funny world. 'A
b'lieve there was once a quarry where this house stands. The man who built
it in past time scraped all the glebe for earth to put round the vicarage,
and laid out a little paradise of flowers and trees in the soil he had got
together in this way, whilst the fields he scraped have been good for
nothing ever since.'</p>
<p>'How long has the present incumbent been here?'</p>
<p>'Maybe about a year, or a year and half: 'tisn't two years; for they don't
scandalize him yet; and, as a rule, a parish begins to scandalize the
pa'son at the end of two years among 'em familiar. But he's a very nice
party. Ay, Pa'son Swancourt knows me pretty well from often driving over;
and I know Pa'son Swancourt.'</p>
<p>They emerged from the bower, swept round in a curve, and the chimneys and
gables of the vicarage became darkly visible. Not a light showed anywhere.
They alighted; the man felt his way into the porch, and rang the bell.</p>
<p>At the end of three or four minutes, spent in patient waiting without
hearing any sounds of a response, the stranger advanced and repeated the
call in a more decided manner. He then fancied he heard footsteps in the
hall, and sundry movements of the door-knob, but nobody appeared.</p>
<p>'Perhaps they beant at home,' sighed the driver. 'And I promised myself a
bit of supper in Pa'son Swancourt's kitchen. Sich lovely mate-pize and
figged keakes, and cider, and drops o' cordial that they do keep here!'</p>
<p>'All right, naibours! Be ye rich men or be ye poor men, that ye must needs
come to the world's end at this time o' night?' exclaimed a voice at this
instant; and, turning their heads, they saw a rickety individual shambling
round from the back door with a horn lantern dangling from his hand.</p>
<p>'Time o' night, 'a b'lieve! and the clock only gone seven of 'em. Show a
light, and let us in, William Worm.'</p>
<p>'Oh, that you, Robert Lickpan?'</p>
<p>'Nobody else, William Worm.'</p>
<p>'And is the visiting man a-come?'</p>
<p>'Yes,' said the stranger. 'Is Mr. Swancourt at home?'</p>
<p>'That 'a is, sir. And would ye mind coming round by the back way? The
front door is got stuck wi' the wet, as he will do sometimes; and the Turk
can't open en. I know I am only a poor wambling man that 'ill never pay
the Lord for my making, sir; but I can show the way in, sir.'</p>
<p>The new arrival followed his guide through a little door in a wall, and
then promenaded a scullery and a kitchen, along which he passed with eyes
rigidly fixed in advance, an inbred horror of prying forbidding him to
gaze around apartments that formed the back side of the household
tapestry. Entering the hall, he was about to be shown to his room, when
from the inner lobby of the front entrance, whither she had gone to learn
the cause of the delay, sailed forth the form of Elfride. Her start of
amazement at the sight of the visitor coming forth from under the stairs
proved that she had not been expecting this surprising flank movement,
which had been originated entirely by the ingenuity of William Worm.</p>
<p>She appeared in the prettiest of all feminine guises, that is to say, in
demi-toilette, with plenty of loose curly hair tumbling down about her
shoulders. An expression of uneasiness pervaded her countenance; and
altogether she scarcely appeared woman enough for the situation. The
visitor removed his hat, and the first words were spoken; Elfride
prelusively looking with a deal of interest, not unmixed with surprise, at
the person towards whom she was to do the duties of hospitality.</p>
<p>'I am Mr. Smith,' said the stranger in a musical voice.</p>
<p>'I am Miss Swancourt,' said Elfride.</p>
<p>Her constraint was over. The great contrast between the reality she beheld
before her, and the dark, taciturn, sharp, elderly man of business who had
lurked in her imagination—a man with clothes smelling of city smoke,
skin sallow from want of sun, and talk flavoured with epigram—was
such a relief to her that Elfride smiled, almost laughed, in the
new-comer's face.</p>
<p>Stephen Smith, who has hitherto been hidden from us by the darkness, was
at this time of his life but a youth in appearance, and barely a man in
years. Judging from his look, London was the last place in the world that
one would have imagined to be the scene of his activities: such a face
surely could not be nourished amid smoke and mud and fog and dust; such an
open countenance could never even have seen anything of 'the weariness,
the fever, and the fret' of Babylon the Second.</p>
<p>His complexion was as fine as Elfride's own; the pink of his cheeks as
delicate. His mouth as perfect as Cupid's bow in form, and as cherry-red
in colour as hers. Bright curly hair; bright sparkling blue-gray eyes; a
boy's blush and manner; neither whisker nor moustache, unless a little
light-brown fur on his upper lip deserved the latter title: this composed
the London professional man, the prospect of whose advent had so troubled
Elfride.</p>
<p>Elfride hastened to say she was sorry to tell him that Mr. Swancourt was
not able to receive him that evening, and gave the reason why. Mr. Smith
replied, in a voice boyish by nature and manly by art, that he was very
sorry to hear this news; but that as far as his reception was concerned,
it did not matter in the least.</p>
<p>Stephen was shown up to his room. In his absence Elfride stealthily glided
into her father's.</p>
<p>'He's come, papa. Such a young man for a business man!'</p>
<p>'Oh, indeed!'</p>
<p>'His face is—well—PRETTY; just like mine.'</p>
<p>'H'm! what next?'</p>
<p>'Nothing; that's all I know of him yet. It is rather nice, is it not?'</p>
<p>'Well, we shall see that when we know him better. Go down and give the
poor fellow something to eat and drink, for Heaven's sake. And when he has
done eating, say I should like to have a few words with him, if he doesn't
mind coming up here.'</p>
<p>The young lady glided downstairs again, and whilst she awaits young
Smith's entry, the letters referring to his visit had better be given.</p>
<p>1.—MR. SWANCOURT TO MR. HEWBY.</p>
<p>'ENDELSTOW VICARAGE, Feb. 18, 18—.</p>
<p>'SIR,—We are thinking of restoring the tower and aisle of the church
in this parish; and Lord Luxellian, the patron of the living, has
mentioned your name as that of a trustworthy architect whom it would be
desirable to ask to superintend the work.</p>
<p>'I am exceedingly ignorant of the necessary preliminary steps. Probably,
however, the first is that (should you be, as Lord Luxellian says you are,
disposed to assist us) yourself or some member of your staff come and see
the building, and report thereupon for the satisfaction of parishioners
and others.</p>
<p>'The spot is a very remote one: we have no railway within fourteen miles;
and the nearest place for putting up at—called a town, though merely
a large village—is Castle Boterel, two miles further on; so that it
would be most convenient for you to stay at the vicarage—which I am
glad to place at your disposal—instead of pushing on to the hotel at
Castle Boterel, and coming back again in the morning.</p>
<p>'Any day of the next week that you like to name for the visit will find us
quite ready to receive you.—Yours very truly,</p>
<p>CHRISTOPHER SWANCOURT. 2.—MR. HEWBY TO MR. SWANCOURT.</p>
<p>"PERCY PLACE, CHARING CROSS, Feb. 20, 18—.</p>
<p>'DEAR SIR,—Agreeably to your request of the 18th instant, I have
arranged to survey and make drawings of the aisle and tower of your parish
church, and of the dilapidations which have been suffered to accrue
thereto, with a view to its restoration.</p>
<p>'My assistant, Mr. Stephen Smith, will leave London by the early train
to-morrow morning for the purpose. Many thanks for your proposal to
accommodate him. He will take advantage of your offer, and will probably
reach your house at some hour of the evening. You may put every confidence
in him, and may rely upon his discernment in the matter of church
architecture.</p>
<p>'Trusting that the plans for the restoration, which I shall prepare from
the details of his survey, will prove satisfactory to yourself and Lord
Luxellian, I am, dear sir, yours faithfully,</p>
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