Now and Then

Chapter I

Somewhere about a hundred years ago (but in which of our good kings' reigns, or in which of our sea-coast counties, is needless to be known) there stood alone, at a little distance from the secluded village of Mil verstoke, a cottage of the better sort, which no one could have seen, without its suggesting to him that he was looking at a cottage osthe true old English kind. It was most snug in winter, and in summer very beautiful; glistening, as then it did, in all its fragrant loveliness of jessamine, honeysuckle, and sweet-briar. There, also, stood a bee -hive, in the centre of the garden, which, stretching down to the road-side, was so filled with flowers, especially roses, that nothing whatever could be seen of the ground in which they grew ; wherefore it might well be that the busy little personages who occupied the tiny mansion so situated, conceived that the lines had fallen to them in very pleasant places indeed.

The cottage was built substantially, though originally somewhat rudely, and principally of sea-shore stones. It had a thick thatched overhanging roof, and the walls were low. In front there were two latticed windows, one above the other. The lower one belonged to the room of the building; the higher, which was much smaller than the other, belonged to what might be called the chief bed-room ; for there were three little dormitories — tw*o being small, and at the back of the cottage. Not far behind, and somewhat to the left, stood an elm-tree, its trunk covered with ivy ; and it so effec tually sheltered from the sea breezes the modest little fabric beneath, and otherwise so materially contributed to its snug, picturesque appearance, that there could be little doubt of the tree's having reached its ma turity before there was any such structure for it to grace and protect.

Beside this tree was a wicket, by which was entered a small slip of ground, half garden and half orchard. All the foregoing formed the remnant of a little freehold property, which had be longed to its present owner and to his family before him, for several generations. The initial letter (<U) of their name, Ayliffe, was rudely cut, in old English character, in a piece of stone forming a sort of centre facing over the doorway ; and no one then living there, knew when that letter had been cut. The present owner of the cottage was Adam Ayliffe, once a substantial, but now a reduced yeoman, well stricken in years, being at the time now spoken of not far from his sixty-eighth year. The crown of his head was bald, and finely formed ; and the little hair that he had left, was of a silvery colour, verging on white.

His countenance and figure were very striking to an observant beholder ; who would have said at once, " That man is of a firm and upright character, and has seen trouble," — all which was indeed distinctly written in his open Saxon features. His eye was of a clear blue, and steadfast in its gaze; and when he spoke, it was with a certain quaintness, which seemed in keeping with his simple and stern character. All who had ever known Ayliffe entertained for him a deep respect. He was of a very independent spirit, somewhat taciturn, and of a retiring, contemplative humour. His life was utterly blameless, regulated throughout by the purifying and elevating influence of Christianity. The excellent vicar of the parish in which he lived, reverenced him, holding him up as a pattern, and pointing him out as one of whom it might be humbly said, Behold an Israelite indeed, in toltom is no guile.

Yet the last few years of his life had been passed in great trouble. b2 Ten years before had occurred, in the loss of his wife, who had been every way worthy of him, the first great sorrow of his life. After twenty years spent together in happiness greater than tongue could tell, it had pleased God, who had given her to him, to take her away — suddenly, indeed, but very gently. He woke one morning, when she woke not, but lay sweetly sleeping the sleep of death. His Sarah was gone, and thenceforth his great hope was to follow her, and be with her again. His spirit was stunned for a while, but murmured not ; saying, with resignation, " The Lord hath given, and the Lord hath taken away : blessed be the name of the Lord." A year or two afterwards occurred to him a second trouble, great, but of a different kind.

He was suddenly reduced almost to beggary. To enable the son of an old deceased friend to become a collector of public rates in an adjoining county, Ayliffe had unsuspiciously be come his surety. The man, however, for whom he had done this service, fell soon afterwards into intem perate and dissolute habits ; dishonesty, as usual, soon followed ; and poor Ayliffe was horrified one evening by being called upon, his principal having absconded, a great defaulter, to contribute to repair the de ficiency, to the full extent of his bond. At the time of this sad event, Ayliffe was the freehold owner of some forty or fifty acres of ground adjoining his cottage, besides some small sums of money advanced upon mortgage to a neighbour, the interest of which he was setting apart for a purpose which will be presently mentioned.

But all was suddenly sacrificed : — not only the little accumulation of interest, but the principal from which it had grown, — and not only that, but more than half of his land had to be sold, to make good the loss for which he had so unhappily become responsible. This stroke seemed to prostrate poor Ayliffe, not only on account of his severe pecuniary loss, but his cruelly betrayed confidence. Nor was this all: — his favourite purpose had been suddenly de feated, that purpose having been, to make a provision for the marriage of his only child, a son, called after himself, Adam, — being the fifth Adam Ayliffe, father and son, during as many generations. That fondly desired object was now unattainable ; and father and son shortly afterwards experienced a bitter proof of the too frequent fickleness of earthly friendships.

The girl whose hand had been pledged to j*oung Adam, readily broke off the match at her parents' desire ; and she being very pretty, and they so well to do in the world as would have enabled them with ease to set Adam Ayliffe and their daughter comfortably going in life, little difficulty was found in obtaining a successor to poor Adam, in a thriving young farmer, whom, if the truth must be told, she had originally jilted in his favour : for Adam was not only of an old family, and would have succeeded to no inconsiderable hereditary property, but was at once one of the finest young fellows in the county; with a handsome countenance, of a most engaging frank ness ; a figure tall and well formed ; possessed of sur passing activity and strength, and of a daring and reckless courage. In all manly exercises he excelled every competitor ; and as to his feats at singlestick, they were famous in several adjoining counties.

Every one, in short, liked Adam Ayliffe : he had a laugh and a good word for all whom he met ; would do anything to oblige anybody ; and seemed not to know that there was such a thing in the world to be looked after as — self. It was everywhere said that a handsomer couple than Adam and Phœbe would make, was not to be seen. But, poor soul ! all his prospects were, as has been seen, in one moment blighted ; and Phœbe's heartless desertion hurt him far more than he cared for the poverty, with its humiliating incidents, into which he and his father had so unexpectedly been plunged. His buoyancy of spirits had fled for ever ; but the manly strength and simplicity of character which he had inherited from his father, remained. Much, how ever, of that father's pious teaching it took, to soothe the ruffled spirit of his son.

Long was it before any one could exchange a smile with Adam Ayliffe the younger. Alas ! what a contrast now, between father and son going heretofore together arm in arm to church, the one with his great walking-stick, broad hat, and long rough blue coat, and face of grave, but not austere, composure; the other gaily clad, and his hat somewhat jauntily set upon his curly nut-brown hair, nodding to this one, and smiling to the other, and taking off his hat to the elder folk ! As the two would stand suddenly uncovered while the parson passed or met them, on his way into the church, his heart yearned towards them both. He thoroughly loved and respected them, and was in a certain way proud of two such specimens of the English yeoman : and, above all, was he charmed with the good example which they uniformly set to all his other parishioners.

He had from Adam's boyhood entertained a liking for him, and had personally bestowed no inconsiderable pains upon his education, which, though plain, as suited his posi tion, was yet sound and substantial. Greatly con cerned had been the Vicar, at the disasters befalling the Ayliffes ; nay, he went so far as secretly to make an effort to reclaim the fickle Phœbe : but in vain : it was plainly not to be ; and then he sought to satisfy the sorely discomfited suitor, that he might depend upon it all would turn out for the best. The Rev. Henry Hylton, M.A., at the time now spoken of, had been Vicar of Milverstoke for nearly twenty years. It was a Cambridge College living, of about 300/. a year ; the first that had fallen to his choice, after he had obtained his Fellowship, to which, in consequence of his distinguished degree, he had been elected almost unanimously.

He was a man of good family ; powerful intellect ; of accurate scholarship ; deeply read in divinity ; of great decision of character, and lofty independence of spirit ; and fer vent piety. He, too, was naturally of a cheerful dis position, but had been saddened by domestic affliction ; for marrying, shortly after coming to the living, a woman every way fitted for her post, being of sweet and most amiable temper, they had had five children ; all of whom had died, except the youngest, a little girl, for whom it may easily be believed that they entertained an anxious love passing expression. After young Adam's troubles had come upon him, by way of occupying or diverting his attention, Mr. Hylton would have him often to the parsonage, on some kind pretext or other; one of them being to copy out some old sermons, the manuscript of which had become too small to be read in the pulpit conveniently ; the good Vicar's eyesight not being as clear and strong as it had been originally.

Thus it was that Adam came to be constantly thrown into the way of a certain maid of Mr. Hylton's — Sarah, whose history was short, but not uninteresting. She had been left an orphan, when young, by a poor widow, a parishioner of Milverstoke, who had died some years before ; and Mrs. Hylton, having taken a liking to the girl, had her carried, about her fourteenth y*ear, to the parsonage, and brought up under her own eye, and that of her housekeeper. Sarah proved a good and grateful girl, and became very useful, being a thoroughly good needle-woman, and discreet and intelligent : in short, she was a great favourite with both Mr. and Mrs. Hylton. Though her countenance was pleasing, it could not properly be called pretty* ; its expression was pensive and thoughtful ; her voice was soft, and pleasant to hear; and her figure slight, but well-proportioned.

Now Adam and she were often thrown together ; for he used to sit in the housekeeper's room, in the evenings, copying out Mr. Hylton's sermons, none other being present than the housekeeper and Sarah : and no one can wonder that Adam should often talk of what had happened to him, particularly touching Phœbe. The good housekeeper pronounced her a hussy, who would live to repent her shameful conduct; and assured Adam that there were quite as good fish in the sea, as had ever come out; he all the while listening in silence, or with a sigh, and shaking his head. The last ob servation, however, imperceptibly grew more grateful to his feelings whenever it was repeated. At length it occurred to him that Sarah, who was never very voluble, always preserved silence when such topic, or anything akin to it, was introduced, and looked very steadily at her needlework.

One's own heart indicates the natural result of all this. On one such occasion as that which has just been referred to, Sarah ven tured to lift up her eyes for an instant from her work, and glanced timidly at Adam, whom she imagined to be busy writing; but, behold! he was looking in silence, and rather earnestly, at her. Thus was kindled the first spark of love between .Adam and Sarah ; and, after several years' quiet courtship, long discouraged, but never absolutely forbidden, by both Mr. and Mrs. Hylton, Adam married Sarah from the parsonage, with the full consent of all persons concerned : his own father, and Mr. and Mrs. Hylton : and then took her home to the cottage; where old Adam Ayliffe, as he kissed the pale cheek of the meek and trembling new-comer, welcomed them both with a solemn and affecting bene diction that was quite patriarchal.

" Daughter-in-law," said he, " I am poor, so is this thy husband ; and we may become poorer : but hei*e is that which will make those rich, who rely on it. Give me thy hand, Sarah, and thine, Adam," said he, and placed them, with his own, upon the cover of the old family Bible : " Promise, with the blessing of Him who gave us this Book, never to look beyond it, in time of trouble, nor then to forget it. Thus promised my Sarah when God gave her to me, who hath since taken her away again !" The old man's voice here trembled, but failed him not. Then he tenderly embraced both his son and daughter-in-law, the latter weeping much ; and they sat down to their frugal repast, with such cheerfulness as they might. Adam and his son had for some time betaken themselves to labour, for their subsistence ; and on this marriage taking place, both found it necessary to redouble their exertions, in order to meet their aug mented expenditure ; for small though it might be at first, prudence warned them to prepare against any probable increase of it.

Bitter, bitter was it to young Ayliffe, when first he saw his venerable father enter into the capacity of a hireling ; but not so with that father, who heartily* thanked God for the strength that he still had, and the opportunity of profitably exerting that strength. 'Twas somewhat late in the day, to be sure : but the necessity for doing so had not arisen from his fault. Labour was the lot of man : this he knew* ; and was reverently content with that lot. These three were the sole occupants of the cottage : and Mrs. Ayliffe, being as one might say, neatness personified, felt a pride in keeping her pretty residence, in fitting order. Often, however, when her husband and father-in-law were absent at their labour, to wliich they would sometimes go very early, and return from it late, she thought with trembling solicitude about the future ; for in due time there was the prospect of her becoming a mother.

The sight of her venerable father-in-law thus daily going to, and returning from, his labour, at a time when he ought to have been enjoying the repose suited to his years, greatly distressed her ; and sometimes she would secretly reproach herself for having added even a straw's weight to his burthens, by becoming the wife of his son. That son, however, loved her tenderly ; and with, perhaps, a more last ing affection than ever he might have entertained for her whose place she had so unexpectedly come to occupy. Both he and his father engaged themselves in their labours with sustained alacrity. But after about a year and a halfs severe and constant exertion, in the ordinary out-door operations of farming, it told more heavily on old Adam's impaired physical powers than he had calculated upon ; and to his grievous mortification the doctor at length positively forbade his resuming work of any kind, for several months to come.

So the old man was obliged to lay up ; and also to incur considerable expense by medical attendance, rendered necessary by a serious injury, which strong exertion, at his time of life, was but too sure to occasion. About a year after her marriage, poor Mrs. Ayliffe brought her husband, at the peril of her own life, a son. She had, indeed, a terrible time of it, and did not quit her bed for three months, nor the cottage, for two months after that ; during the whole of that period being quite unable to manage her household affairs, — small, it was true — but requiring, never theless, constant attention, especially to secure any degree of comfort. Alas ! how were all these sadly increased exigencies, and that of medical attendance, to be encountered and provided for ? There was but the labour of young Ayliffe, itself producing no great results, but still sufficient, with good management and frugality, to supply their daily necessities ; there being, fortunately, no rent to be paid for the house in which they lived.

But how long might that be the case? For already had arisen the sad necessity of parting with another portion of the land which still consti tuted the family property. It had cost old Ayliffe a bitter pang to part with an acre of that land ; yet had he been obliged to do so, and was now again driven to repeat the sacrifice. All hitherto sold, had been purchased on account of the Earl of Milverstoke — a nobleman of ancient lineage and vast possessions, whose principal country residence, Milverstoke Castle, a magnificent structure, stood at only some two miles' distance from Ayliffe's cottage. Much must presently be said of this distinguished personage, for such, indeed, he was, even were it only in respect of his lofty personal character, his great talents, and the high political position which he had occupied.

Suffice it at present to say*, that the Earl did not give him self much personal concern about the management of his estates, but devolved it upon others — upon agents resident where his properties were situate, and all of whom were under the control of one principal who lived in London, and was a person of no little importance, from the nature and extent of the influence and authority which he exercised. The Earl's local agent at Milverstoke was Mr. Oxley, formerly a land-valuer in the adjoining county, a shrewd and energetic man, devoted to the Earl's interests, but occasionally acting in a way that was not likely to secure to his noble employer the good will of those who were connected with him as tenants or neighbours, for little cared Mr. Oxley about hurt ing the feelings of any one who stood in his way.

He it was who had negotiated the purchase of the land which old Ayliffe had been forced to sell in consequence of the villainy of the person for whom he had become bound ; and the object of Mr. Oxley, in making that purchase, was the furtherance of a favourite scheme which he had for some time had in view, and which had met with the Earl's own approbation, of making a new approach to the Castle, through the woods at the back of it, instead of the present road, which was somewhat inconvenient with reference to the highway, and very circuitous. This object could not, however, be attained, unless all the remaining property of Ayliffe could be acquired by the Earl; whose agent had teased and harassed Ayliffe on the subject, to an extent which only one of so well-regulated a temper as his, could have tolerated with anything like calmness.

The new road to the Castle, it w*as intended, should pass exactly over the present site of the cottage; which therefore had long been a grievous eyesore to Mr. Oxley, as a monument at once of his own abortive negotiation, and, as he chose to consider it, Ayliffe's dogged ob stinacy. In vain the old man earnestly told him that it would break his heart to be separated for ever from the property of his fathers— to see their residence pulled down, and all trace of it destroyed; in vain did the selfish matter-of-fact man of business hear that Ayliffe had solemnly promised his father, on his death-bed, not to part with the cottage so long as he had a crust of bread to eat in it, and a son to succeed to it. Mr. Oxley largely increased, and finally doubled, his original offer, on hearing these cunning pretexts, for such to him they* appeared, urged so pertinaciously; but the old yeoman was not to be tempted : and his resolution irritated Mr. Oxley the more, because the latter, never dreaming of such an obstacle, had some what precipitately pledged himself to the Earl, that his Lordship might depend upon the new road to the Castle being laid down, by a day which had — long passed by.

A last and desperate effort was made by Mr. Oxley, on behalf of his noble principal, who little dreamed of the real state of the case : or, high-minded as he was, he would have sacrificed a thousand acres of his richest land, rather than have sanctioned the ungracious and unwarrantable proceedings attempted on his behalf. But his Lordship had only recently made Milverstoke his constant residence, on his somewhat sudden retirement from public life, and probably knew little or nothing of what went on in his name, and professedly on his behalf; and as for Ayliffe and his property, the Earl knew little more than that there was a small freeholder of that name living at a short distance from the Castle, whose slight interest in the soil it would be necessary to purchase, before the contemplated approach could be made from the high road to the Castle.

On the occasion just alluded to, as witnessing the last eager effort of Mr. Oxley to effect his purpose, Ayliffe and his son were together in the cottage ; and the former, unprovoked by much intemperate and coarse language, which, however, greatly inflamed the latter, finally but quietly told Mr. Oxley that he would talk no more with him on the subject : " And as for my Lord," he added, with a calm, though somewhat stern smile, " let him be satisfied with what he hath : the Castle for him, the cottage for me I" "Be not a fool, .Adam Ayliffe — know your interest and duty better," replied Mr. Oxley; " depend upon it, I will not throw all this my trouble away, nor shall mv Lord be disappointed. Listen, therefore, once for all, to reason, and take what is offered, which is princely, and be thankful!" c "Well, well," said Ayliffe; "it seems that I cannot say that which will suit thee, good Mr. Oxley.

Yet once more will I try, and with words that perhaps may reach the ear which mine cannot. Wilt thou hear me ?" "Ay, I will hear, sure enough, friend Adam," said Mr. Oxley, curiously; on which xAyliff'e took down from the top of the clock, which stood in the corner, a large old brass-bound bible, and, opening it on his lap, read with deliberate emphasis as follows : — " Naboth, the Jezreelite, had a viney*ard, which was in Jezreel, hard by the palace of Ahab, King of Samaria. " And Ahab spake unto Naboth, saying, ' Give me thy vineyard, that I may have it for a garden of herbs, because it is near unto my house : and 1 will give thee for it a better vineyard than it ; or if it seem good to thee, I will give thee the worth of it in money.' "And Naboth said unto Ahab, ' The Lord forbid it me, that I should give the inheritance of my fathers unto thee.' " When he had read these last words, which he did very solemnly, Ayliffe closed the Bible, and gazed at Mr. Oxley in silence.

For a moment the latter seemed somewhat staggered by what he saw, and what he had heard ; but at length — " Oh, ho, Adam ! do you make your Bible speak for you, in business?" said he, in a tone of rude jocularity. " Well, I shall wish y*ou good day for some little while, it may be, and good luck to y*ou here. It is somewhat of a bit of a place," he continued, as he drew on his gloves, glancing, at the same time, contemptuously round the little room, " to set such store by ; but be patient — be patient, Adam ; there is one somewhat larger that will be ready for you by-and-bye " — This insulting allusion to the workhouse, or the county gaol, old Aydiffe received in dignified silence. Not so, however, his son ; who, rising with ominous calmness from the chair on which he had for some time been sitting, as it were on thorns, and silent only out of habitual deference to his father, approached Mr. Oxley in two strides, seized him by the collar with the hand of a giant, and before his astonished father could interpose, had dragged Mr. Oxley to the doorway, and, with a single jerk, flung him out into the open air with a violence which sent him staggering several yards, till he fell down at full length on the ground.

" Adam, Adam, what hast thou done ?" commenced his father, approaching his son with an astounded air. " Nay, never mind me, father," muttered his son, c2 vehemently, standing with arms a-kimbo, and watch ing Mr. Oxley, with eyes flashing fury. " There, Mas ter Oxley: show never here again that wizened face of yours, or worse may happen. Away ! Back to the Castle, and tell him that sent you here what you have received! Off! out into the road," he added, raising his voice, and striding towards Mr. Oxley, who pre cipitately quitted the garden, " or I '11 teach you to speak of the workhouse again ! See that the dogs lick not " — " Adam ! I charge thee — hold thy peace!" said the old man, loudly and authoritatively, and advancing towards Mr. Oxley ; who, however, having, after mut tering a few words, heard by the old man, and glancing furiously at young Ayliffe, hastily mounted his horse, which had been standing fastened at the gate, and was soon out of hearing.

About that time in the en suing day, he had contrived, during an interview on business with the Earl, to intimate, as if casually only, that the Ayliffes, who owned the road-side cottage, had received the liberal overtures made by Mr. Oxley on his Lordship's behalf, with expressions of coarse disre spect, and even malignant hostility. Not a word said Mr. Oxley of the violent treatment which he had received at the hands of young Ayliffe ; nor did he deem it expedient, for reasons of his own, to summon his assailant to answer before the magistrates for what he had done. Would that the Earl of Milverstoke had received the slightest inkling* of the occurrence of the day before, — of the spirit and temper in which Mr. Oxley's negotiations, if such they could be called, had been carried on with Adam Ayliffe.

Such information, however, was of course not to be expected from Mr. Oxley. Would, then, that it had occurred to Ayliffe or his son to go resolutely up to the Castle, insist on seeing its stern secluded lord, and apprise him of the insulting and oppressive line of conduct which had been pursued in his name. Mr. Oxley, un less his denial had been believed, would have fled blighted from the presence of his lord, who would have told him in a voice of thunder to give an account of his stewardship, for that he might be no longer steward. But it fell not out so. Such a step was never dreamed of by either of the Ayliffes ; who, on the contrary, rather anxiously awaited some vindictive movement on the part of Mr. Oxley. He seemed, however, disposed to take no notice of what had happened ; and the untoward occurrence appeared not likely to be followed by its apprehended consequences.

Ayliffe received no more molestation from Mr. Ox ley, or any one else, with the view of compelling him to surrender the poor remnant of his little patrimonial estate. That gentleman probably thought it his wisest course, hoping that distress might do what negotiation had failed in, to bide his time, as far as concerned the Earl's interests, with reference to gain ing possession of Ayliffe's cottage and the slip of ground still remaining attached to it, and on which stood the small orchard and garden which have been already mentioned. All the rest poor old Ayliffe had been compelled to dispose of with reluctance and agony, during the troubled two years and a half, or three years, ensuing on his son's marriage. Like any slave in the plantations worked that son, from morning to night, with fond willingness, to support those who were so dear to him ; and being also stimulated by an honourable ambition to preserve in his family the cherished spot where the parents from whom he sprung had been born ; which, moreover, seemed in finitely enhanced to him in value, now that he had become himself a father — the father of yet another Adam Ayliffe, for so the child had been christened.