A Reputed Changeling Read online

  CHAPTER IV: IMP OR NO IMP

  "But wist I of a woman bold Who thrice my brow durst sign,I might regain my mortal mould, As fair a form as thine."

  SCOTT.

  At last came a wakening with intelligence in the eyes. In thesummer morning light that streamed through the chinks of theshutters Mrs. Woodford perceived the glance of inquiry, and when shebrought some cool drink, a rational though feeble voice asked thosefirst questions, "Who? and where?"

  "I am Mrs. Woodford, my dear child. You remember me at Winchester.You are at Portchester. You fell down and hurt yourself, but youare getting better."

  She was grieved to see the look of utter disappointment andweariness that overspread the features, and the boy hardly spokeagain all day. There was much drowsiness, but also depression, andmore than once Mrs. Woodford detected tears, but at other times hereceived her attentions with smiles and looks of wonderinggratitude, as though ordinary kindness and solicitude were so new tohim that he did not know what to make of them, and perhaps wasafraid of breaking a happy dream by saying too much.

  The surgeon saw him, and declared him so much better that he mightsoon be taken home, recommending his sitting up for a little whileas a first stage. Peregrine, however, seemed far from beingcheered, and showed himself so unwilling to undergo the fatigue ofbeing dressed, even when good Dr. Woodford had brought up his ownlarge chair--the only approach to an easy one in the house--that theproposal was dropped, and he was left in peace for the rest of theday.

  In the evening Mrs. Woodford was sitting by the window, letting herneedlework drop as the light faded, and just beginning to doze, whenher repose was broken by a voice saying "Madam."

  "Yes, Peregrine."

  "Come near, I pray. Will you tell no one?"

  "No; what is it?"

  In so low a tone that she had to bend over him: "Do you know howthe Papists cross themselves?"

  "Yes, I have seen the Queen's confessor and some of the ladies makethe sign."

  "Dear lady, you have been very good to me! If you would only crossme thrice, and not be afraid! They could not hurt you!"

  "Who? What do you mean?" she asked, for fairy lore had not become apopular study, but comprehension came when he said in an awe-stricken voice, "You know what I am."

  "I know there have been old wives' tales about you, my poor boy, butsurely you do not believe them yourself."

  "Ah! if you will not believe them, there is no hope. I might haveknown. You were so good to me;" and he hid his face.

  She took his unwilling hand and said, "Be you what you will, my poorchild, I am sorry for you, for I see you are very unhappy. Come,tell me all."

  "Nay, then you would be like the rest," said Peregrine, "and I couldnot bear that," and he wrung her hand.

  "Perhaps not," she said gently, "for I know that a story is afloatthat you were changed in your cradle, and that there are folkignorant enough to believe it."

  "They all _know_ it," he said impressively. "My mother and brothersand all the servants. Every soul knows it except my father and Mr.Horncastle, and they will never hear a word, but will have it that Iam possessed with a spirit of evil that is to be flogged out of me.Goody Madge and Moll Owens, they knew how it was at the first, andwould fain have forced them--mine own people--to take me home, andbring the other back, but my father found it out and hindered them."

  "To save your life."

  "Much good does my life do me! Every one hates or fears me. No onehas a word for me. Every mischance is laid on me. When the kitchenwench broke a crock, it was because I looked at it. If the keepermisses a deer, he swears at Master Perry! Oliver and Robert willnot let me touch a thing of theirs; they bait me for a moon-calf,and grin when I am beaten for their doings. Even my mother quakesand trembles when I come near, and thinks I give her the creeps. Asto my father and tutor, it is ever the rod with them, though I canlearn my tasks far better than those jolter-heads Noll and Robin. Inever heard so many kind words in all my life as you have given mesince I have been lying here!"

  He stopped in a sort of awe, for tears fell from her eyes, and shekissed his forehead.

  "Will you not help me, good madam?" he entreated. "I went down toGoody Madge, and she said there was a chance for me every sevenyears. The first went by, but this is my fourteenth year. I had ahope when the King spoke of beheading me, but he was only in jest,as I might have known. Then methought I would try what Midsummernight in the fairy ring would do, but that was in vain; and now you,who could cross me if you would, will not believe. Oh, will you notmake the trial?"

  "Alas! Peregrine, supposing I could do it in good faith, would youbecome a mere tricksy sprite, a thing of the elements, and yield upyour hopes as a Christian soul, a child of God and heir of Heaven?"

  "My father says I am an heir of hell."

  "No, no, never," she cried, shuddering at his quiet way of sayingit. "You are flesh and blood, christened, and with the hope setbefore you."

  "The christening came too late," he said. "O lady, you who are sogood and pitiful, let my mother get back her true Peregrine--astraight-limbed, comely dullard, such as would be welcome to her.She would bless and thank you, and for me, to be a Will-of-the-wisp,or what not, would be far better than the life I lead. Never did Iknow what my mother calls peace till I lay here."

  "Ah, Peregrine, poor lad, your value for peace and for my poorkindness proves that you have a human heart and are no elf."

  "Indeed, I meant to flit about and give you good dreams, and keepoff all that could hurt or frighten you," he said earnestly.

  "Only the human soul could feel so, dear boy," she answeredtenderly.

  "And you _really_ disbelieve--the other," he said wistfully.

  "This is what I verily believe, my child: that there were causes tomake you weakly, and that you may have had some palsy stroke orconvulsive fit perhaps at the moment you were left alone. Suchwould explain much of your oddness of face, which made the ignorantnurses deem you changed; and thus it was only your father who, byGod's mercy, saved you from a miserable death, to become, as Itrust, a good and true man, and servant of God." Then answering ahopeless groan, she added, "Yes, it is harder for you than for many.I see that these silly servants have so nurtured you in this beliefthat you have never even thought it worth while to strive forgoodness, but supposed tricksomeness and waywardness a part of yournature."

  "The only pleasure in life is paying folk off," said Peregrine, witha glitter in his eye. "It serves them right."

  "And thus," she said sadly, "you have gone on hating and spiting,deeming yourself a goblin without hope or aim; but now you feel thatyou have a Christian soul you will strive with evil, you will solove as to win love, you will pray and conquer."

  "My father and Mr. Horncastle pray," said Peregrine bitterly. "Ihate it! They go on for ever, past all bearing; I _must_ dosomething--stand on my head, pluck some one's stool away, or tickleRobin with a straw, if I am birched the next moment. That's thegoblin."

  "Yet you love the Minster music."

  "Ay! Father calls it rank Popery. I listened many a time he neverguessed, hid away in the Holy Hole, or within old Bishop Wykeham'slittle house."

  "Ah, Peregrine, could an imp of evil brook to lie hidden in the HolyHole behind the very altar?" said Mrs. Woodford. "But I hear Nickbringing in supper, and I must leave you for the present. God inHis mercy bless you, His poor child, and lead you in His ways."

  As she went Peregrine muttered, "Is that a prayer? It is not likefather's."

  She was anxious to consult her brother-in-law on the strange mood ofher patient. She found that he had heard more than he had told herof what Major Oakshott deemed the hopeless wickedness of his son,the antics at prayers, the hatred of everything good, the spitefultricks that were the family torment. No doubt much was due to theboy's entire belief in his own elfship, and these two good peopleseriously considered how to save him from himself.

  "If we could only keep him here," s
aid Mrs. Woodford, "I think wemight bring him to have some faith and love in God and man."

  "You could, dear sister," said the Doctor, smiling affectionately;"but Major Oakshott would never leave his son in our house. Heabhors our principles too much, and besides, it is too near home.All the servants have heard rumours of this cruel fable, and wouldascribe the least misadventure to his goblin origin. I must rideover to Oakwood and endeavour to induce his father to remove him tosafe and judicious keeping."

  Some days, however, elapsed before Dr. Woodford could do this, andin the meantime the good lady did her best to infuse into her pooryoung guest the sense that he had a human soul, responsible for hisactions, and with hope set before him, and that he was not a merefrolicsome and malicious sprite, the creature of unreasoningimpulse.

  It was a matter only to be attempted by gentle hints, for thoughreared in a strictly religious household, Peregrine's ears seemed tohave been absolutely closed, partly by nursery ideas of his ownexclusion from the pale of humanity, partly by the harsh treatmentthat he was continually bringing on himself. Preachings and prayersto him only meant a time of intolerable restraint, usually ending indisgrace and punishment; Scripture and the Westminster Catechismcontained a collection of tasks more tedious and irksome than theLatin and Greek Grammar; Sunday was his worst day of the week, andthese repugnances, as he had been taught to believe, were so manyproofs that he was a being beyond the power of grace.

  Mrs. Woodford scrupled to leave him to any one else on this firstSunday of his recovered consciousness, and in hopes of keeping himquiet through fatigue, she contrived that it should be the first dayof his being dressed, and seated in the arm-chair, resting againstcushions beside the open window, whence he could watch the church-goers, Anne in her little white cap, with her book in one hand, anda posy in the other, tripping demurely beside her uncle, stately ingown, cassock, and scarlet hood.

  Peregrine could not refrain from boasting to his hostess how he hadonce grimaced from outside the church window at Havant, and at thewomen shrieking that the fiend was there. She would not smile, andshook her head sadly, so that he said, "I would never do so here."

  "Nor anywhere, I hope."

  Whereupon, thinking better to please the churchwoman, he relatedhow, when imprisoned for popping a toad into the soup, he hadescaped over the leads, and had beaten a drum outside the barn,during a discourse of the godly tinker, John Bunyan, tramping andrattling so that all thought the troopers were come, and rushed out,tumbling one over the other, while he yelled out his "Ho! ho! ho!"from the haystack where he had hidden.

  "When you feel how kind and loving God is," said Mrs. Woodfordgravely, "you will not like to disturb those who are doing Himhonour."

  "Is He kind?" asked Peregrine. "I thought He was all wrath andanger."

  She replied, "The Lord is loving unto every man, and His mercy isover all His works."

  He made no answer. If he were sullen, this subsided intosleepiness, and when he awoke he found the lady on her knees goingthrough the service with her Prayer-book. She encountered hiswistful eyes, but no remark was made, though on her return fromfetching him some broth, she found him peeping into her book, whichhe laid down hastily, as though afraid of detection.

  She had to go down to the Sunday dinner, where, according to goodold custom, half a dozen of the poor and aged were regaled with theparish priest and his household. There she heard inquiries andremarks showing how widely spread and deeply rooted was the notionof Peregrine's elfish extraction. If Daddy Hoskins did ask afterthe poor young gentleman as if he were a human being, the three olddames present shook their heads, and while the more bashful onlygroaned, Granny Perkins demanded, "Well, now, my lady, do he eat andsleep like other folk?"

  "Exactly, granny, now that he's mending in health."

  "And don't he turn and writhe when there's prayers?"

  Mrs. Woodford deposed to having observed no such demonstrations.

  "Think of that now! Lauk-a-daisy! I've heard tell by my nevvyDavy, as is turnspit at Oak'ood, as how when there's prayers andexpounding by Master Horncastle, as is a godly man, saving hisReverence's presence, he have seen him, have Davy--Master Perry, asthey calls him, a-twisted round with his heels on the chair, and hishead where his heels should be, and a grin on his face enough togive one a turn."

  "Did Davy never see a mischievous boy fidgeting at prayers?" askedthe Doctor, who was nearer than she thought. "If so, he has beenluckier than I have been."

  There was a laugh, out of deference to the clergyman, but the oldwoman held to her point. "Begging your Reverence's pardon, sir,there be more in this than we knows. They says up at Oakwood,there's no peace in the place for the spite of him, and when theythinks he is safe locked into his chamber, there he be a-clogging ofthe spit, or changing sugar into pepper, or making the stool breakdown under one. Oh, he be a strange one, sir, or summat worse. Ihave heerd him myself hollaing 'Ho! ho! ho!' on the downs enough tomake one's flesh creep."

  "I will tell you what he is, dame," said the Doctor gravely. "He isa poor child who had a fit in his cradle, and whom all around havejoined in driving to folly, evil, and despair through your foolishsuperstitions. He is my guest, and I will have no more said againsthim at my table."

  The village gossips might be silenced by awe of the parson, buttheir opinion was unshaken; and Silas Hewlett, a weather-beatensailor with a wooden leg, was bold enough to answer, "Ay, ay, sir,you parsons and gentlefolk don't believe naught; but you've not seenwhat I have with my own two bodily eyes--" and this of course wasthe prelude to the history of an encounter with a mermaid, whichalternated with the Flying Dutchman and a combat with the Moors, asregular entertainment at the Sunday meal.

  When Mrs. Woodford went upstairs she was met by the servant Nicolas,declaring that she might get whom she would to wait on that theremoon-calf, he would not go neist the spiteful thing, and exhibitinga swollen finger, stung by a dead wasp, which Peregrine hadcunningly disposed on the edge of his empty plate.

  She soothed the man's wrath, and healed his wound as best she might,ere returning to her patient, who looked at her with an impish grinon his lips, and yet human deprecation in his eyes. Feelingunprepared for discussion, she merely asked whether the dinner hadbeen relished, and sat down to her book; but there was a grave,sorrowful expression on her countenance, and, after an interval oflying back uneasily in his chair, he exclaimed, "It is of no use; Icould not help it. It is my nature."

  "It is the nature of many lads to be mischievous," she answered;"but grace can cure them."

  Therewith she began to read aloud. She had bought the Pilgrim'sProgress (the first part) from a hawker, and she was glad to have athand something that could hardly be condemned as frivolous orprelatical. The spell of the marvellous book fell on Peregrine; helistened intently, and craved ever to hear more, not being yet ableto read without pain and dizziness. He was struck by hearing thatthe dream of Christian's adventures had visited that same tinker,whose congregation his own wicked practices had broken up.

  "He would take me for one of the hobgoblins that beset MasterChristian."

  "Nay," said Mrs. Woodford, "he would say you were Christianfloundering in the Slough of Despond, and deeming yourself one ofits efts or tadpoles."

  He made no answer, but on the whole behaved so well that the nextday Mrs. Woodford ventured to bring her little daughter in afterhaving extracted a promise that there should be no tricks norteasing, a pledge honourably kept.

  Anne did not like the prospect of the interview. "Oh, ma'am, don'tleave me alone with him!" she said. "Do you know what he did toMistress Martha Browning, his own cousin, you know, who lives atEmsworth with her aunt? He put a horsehair slily round her glass ofwine, and tipped it over her best gray taffeta, and her aunt whippedher for the stain. She never would say it was his doing, and yet hegoes on teasing her the same as ever, though his brother Oliverfound it out, and thrashed him for it: you know Oliver is to marryMistress Martha."

 
"My dear child, where did you hear all this?" asked Mrs. Woodford,rather overwhelmed with this flood of gossip from her usually quietdaughter.

  "Lucy told me, mamma. She heard it from Sedley, who says he doesnot wonder at any one serving out Martha Browning, for she is asugly as sin."

  "Hush, hush, Anne! Such sayings do not become a young maid. Thispoor lad has scarce known kindness. Every one's hand has beenagainst him, and so his hand has been against every one. I want mylittle daughter to be brave enough not to pain and anger him byshrinking from him as if he were not like other people. We mustteach him to be happy before we can teach him to be good."

  "Madam, I will try," said the child, with a great gulp; "only if youwould be pleased not to leave me alone with him the first time!"

  This Mrs. Woodford promised. At first the boy lay and looked atAnne as if she were a rare curiosity brought for his examination,and it took all her resolution, even to a heroic exertion ofchildish fortitude, not to flinch under the gaze of those queereyes. However, Mrs. Woodford diverted the glances by producing abox of spillekins, and in the interest of the game the childrenbecame better acquainted.

  Over their next day's game Mrs. Woodford left them, and Anne becameat ease since Peregrine never attempted any tricks. She taught himto play at draughts, the elders thinking it expedient not to doubtwhether such vanities were permissible at Oakwood.

  Soon there was such merriment between them that the kind Doctor saidit did his heart good to hear the boy's hearty natural laugh in lieuof the "Ho! ho! ho!" of malice or derision.

  They were odd conversations that used to take place between that boyand girl. The King's offer of a pageship had oozed out in theOakshott family, and Peregrine greatly resented the refusal, whichhe naturally attributed to his father's Whiggery and spite at allthings agreeable, and he was fond of discussing his wrongs andlongings with Anne, who, from her childish point of view, thoughtthe walls of Portchester and the sluggish creek a very bad exchangefor her enjoyments at Greenwich, where she had lived during herfather's years of broken health, after he had been disabled atSouthwold by a wound which had prevented his being knighted by theDuke of York for his daring in the excitement of the criticalmoment, a fact which Mistress Anne never forgot, though she onlyknew it by hearsay, as it happened a few weeks after she was born,and her father always averred that he was thankful to have missedthe barren and expensive honour, and that the _worst_ which had comeof his exploit was the royal sponsorship to his little maid.

  Anne had, however, been the pet of her father's old friends, the seacaptains, had played with the little Evelyns under the yew hedges ofSays Court, had been taken to London to behold the Lord Mayor's showand more than one Court pageant, had been sometimes at the palacesas the plaything of the Ladies Mary and Anne of York, had been morethan once kissed by their father, the Duke, and called a prettylittle poppet, and had even shared with them a notable game at rompswith their good-natured uncle the King, when she had actually caughthim at Blind-man's-buff!

  Ignorant as she was of evil, her old surroundings appeared to herdelightful, and Peregrine, bred in a Puritan home, was at fourteennot much more advanced than she was in the meaning of the vices andcorruptions that he heard inveighed against in general or scripturalterms at home, and was only too ready to believe that all that hisfather proscribed must be enchanting. Thus they built castlestogether about brilliant lives at a Court of which they knew aslittle as of that at Timbuctoo.

  There was another Court, however, of which Peregrine seemed to knowall the details, namely, that of King Oberon and Queen Mab. Howmuch was village lore picked up from Moll Owens and her kind, or howmuch was the work of his own imagination, no one could tell,probably not himself, certainly not Anne. When he appeared onintimate terms with Hip, Nip, and Skip, and described catching DaddyLong Legs to make a fence with his legs, or dwelt upon a terriblefight between two armies of elves mounted on grasshoppers andcrickets, and armed with lances tipped with stings of bees andwasps, she would exclaim, "Is it true, Perry?" and he would wink hisgreen eye and look at her with his yellow one till she hardly knewwhere she was.

  He would tell of his putting a hornet in a sluttish maid's shoe,which was credible, if scarcely meriting that elfish laughter whichmade his auditor shrink, but when he told of dancing over the mudbanks with a lantern, like a Will-of-the-wisp, till he lured boatsto get stranded, or horsemen to get stuck, in the hopeless mud, Annenever questioned the possibility, but listened with wide open eyes,and a restrained shudder, feeling as if under a spell. Thatmysterious childish feeling which dreads even what common senseforbids the calmer mind to believe, made her credit Peregrine, forthe time at least, with strange affinities to the underground folk,and kept her under a strange fascination, half attraction, halfrepulsion, which made her feel as if she must obey and follow him ifhe turned those eyes on her, whether she were willing or not.

  Nor did she ever tell her mother of these conversations. She hadbeen rebuked once for repeating nurse's story of the changeling, andagain for her shrinking from him; and this was quite enough in anessentially reserved, as well as proud and sensitive, nature, toprevent further confidences on a subject which she knew would betreated as a foolish fancy, bringing both herself and her companioninto trouble.