The Hermit of Nottingham: A Novel

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Contents

CHAPTER XI ,^g,

llOBB&T ATWOOD MBETS ATLANTA GUTHRIB I5I

CHAPTER Xn Alice Riixseley sees the Hermit • • • • 167

Chapter I Wanted : A Pedigree

" O AY, Bob, you've got positively >J nothing to do, so won't you go up to Riverside, I believe it is, and then go back into the country a mile or two and ask for a Miss Ridgeley, and request her to tell you how Grandpa Bloomfield was related to the Brookses. And say, Bob, — that's a good boy, — look at the records, or whatever they call them, for the date of great-grandfather's wedding, and put it all down straight, and then come home quick as you can and let me know. Now there's a chance to spend a day worth having, and you can skip your club and Chestnut Street just for once."

When his sister stopped and drew in

_ li a long breath, her good-natured brother Robert walked to the door of the library, and, calling to his mother, whom he knew was within hearing, said, —

"Mother, do come in here. Helen has a fit or something, or has gone mad. Do come quick."

" What do you mean, my son ?" exclaimed Mrs. Atwood, as she came forward with something more than her usual speed, even when she felt hurried She found her daughter standing in the middle of the room, apparently in excellent health, but with rather more than her usual color.

"I think Bob's real mean," Helen said, before her mother could repeat her question. "He won't go to Riverside and find out what I want to know, and you said yourself it would be so nice for me to join the Revolutionary Daughters of Colonial Dames."

" Oh, oh, oh !" gurgled her brother Robert, as he looked steadily into the grate and tried to send the smoke of a cigarette up the chimney.

lO

"I say, mother," he remarked, when his face straightened, "I always knew you had a revolutionary daughter, but are you really a colonial dame and older than grandmother?"

"Hush, Robert," replied Mrs. Atwood. "Helen, dear, do get things straight and be a little less impulsive. You mean Daughters of the Revolution or Colonial Dames. I prefer the latter, for many reasons, though you could be either, I think. Did you go to the Historical Society?"

"Of course I did; and Miss Krosscutt told me lots and gave me a paper with something printed on it "

"She'd not be hkely to give you a blank sheet of paper, would she ?" asked Robert

" Now, hush. Bob, as mother told you," Helen said, impatiently, and continued, " It's to fill out, I believe ; and so I asked Bob "

" Please, Helen, say ' Robert" or 'brother,' " said her mother, quietly.

"Then he shan't call me Hel for

Nelly, that's all ; and I want him to go to Riverside. I don't see why people don't live where we can know all about them. How far is it? Could I go alone ?"

"No, dear, not alone, and it isn't necessary you should go at all I think brother will look it up for you, if you don't expect everything at a moment's notice." Then, turning to her son, Mrs, Atwood continued, "Couldn't you go, Robert, and in Riverside ask for Henry Ridgeley, and so find out? Anyone, I think, could direct you to his office."

"Office? What sort of a one?" Robert asked.

" I am not positive. Real estate and insurance, I think ; but your father can tell."

"As he will not be home for a month, that isn't much of a suggestion," replied Robert, laughing.

"True ; well, he is well known there, I am sure, and you will have no trouble."

"That's all plain enough; but Nell

THE HERMIT OF NOTTINGHAM says ifs back in the country I'm to go-"

" And you can hire a horse and carriage and drive out I suppose," replied his mother.

"And find nobody at home. But I don't mind. Lefs see. I'll have to go by way of Market Street Ferry. I'll study it out down town, so don't fret, sis ; and here's to the Torylutionaiy dames." And brother Robert sent a circle of smoke whirling towards the ceiling as he left the room.

"I think Bob's real mean to make fun of me so," Helen said to her mother when the young man had gone.

" It is because you are so impulsive, Helen, and get things so mixed. You do not take up with a new idea, but let the idea take you up and toss you about Do take matters more quietly."

" Mother, I can't All the girls are joining and I want to, too ; and I don't care what ifs about, only I don't want to be left out in the cold."

Mother and dau^ter soon separated, i3 the former to her household cares, the latter idling her time with some impatience until it was late enough to stroll down the street, for Helen Atwood was very near to those spoiled darlings that do not look seriously upon life, and, as a fact, take hold of the brief creed, " I was born to be happy," with a firmer grip than they do the suggestions of their pastors. All this, of course, would be in time outgrown, but too often lingers longer in a life than is desirable, and years that are well fitted for intellectual advancement are frittered away. While mother and daughter were engaged in-doors Robert was on his way down town, and this had been his practice for several years. For eight months in the year he had gone down town at the same time every morning, and returned with almost the same mathematical regularity. Think of it I Facing the Delaware in the A.M., and facing the Schuylkill in the p.m., week in and week out, without variation or shadow of turning ! A voluntary tread-mill existence, and almost as monotonous. What excellent bricks are in Philadelphia pavements ! Twice daily the same narrow line of sidewalk is tramped over, not only by Robert Atwood but by a thousand others ; and twice daily, but later, the sisters of these young men wend their ways to and fro along the same pathway, yet there is no trace of constant travel. What a deep trail they would make if tramping through the woods or across lots ! The exception to the rule may be very slow, but it is absolutely sure. We have mid-day darkness when there is a total eclipse. To-day Robert Atwood had a new purpose in going . down town, and he was meditating on

the desirability of novel sensations as he approached his club.

I This young man was like a leaf on the

topmost twig of some tall tree. He had had all his life a commanding outlook upon the social world. From his emi- : nent position — a birthright one — he had

I looked for years, from the front windows

' of the Exclusive Club, up and down

Walnut Street and across Exclusive Square to the stately mansions behind the trees. He was accustomed to seeing much and surveying little. As the leaf from its grand outlook gazed upon a wide-spread reach of pretty country, and had heard the sweetest songs of many a warbling bird, so, too, had Robert, by means of his social eminence, seen the best of his native city, and heard all the best singers not only of the opera but those who charmed the chosen few of private parlors. And as the leaf has never given thought to the tree's trunk or dreamed of the sturdy roots that had firm hold upon the earth, so Robert had only a vague knowledge that his family had a stately trunk, and this in turn was merged into the roots that aspired not even to daylight, but labored to keep their place in the soil where nature placed them. As incurious as the leaf, he had never gone below his appointed place to see where the foundations rested. He, like his companions, must in time fall, that he knew,

i6 and his bones rest with the ancestral dust, as the leaf falls when the blighting touch of frost shall come ; but now it seemed a little like anticipating all this to go back into the country and dig and delve among the musty records that tell of primitive folk who had lived nearer to Mother Earth than he ever dreamed of He would have shuddered at the thought of a permanent shelter in the home of his ancestors. Still, as he thought the matter over, a sense of novelty took possession of him, and, to his credit, he was devoted to his sister. She, he often thought, must keep up the family's standing, and he believed she could. He was a bachelor, and should remain one ; that was settled. She would marry well, he felt, or not at all, he hoped, and so the Atwoods would disappear as such, the name dying with his parents and himself

"Of course I'll go, if just to please Nelly ; but it's a good deal like groping in the dark, unless I can get something more in the way of a guide as to this business. Til ask Tom Procter; he comes from over in Jersey, I think."

Two days later it came to pass that Robert Atwood went to Riverside on Nelly's errand. He learned at his club that the town could be reached most readily by taking the cars at Broad Street Station to Clifton and crossing the river to the town opposite, and that the walk to the Ridgeleys was just long enough for wholesome exercise ; but not until he reached Clifton did he learn that the ferry was operated at the convenience of the captain, and he must wait a full hour while Captain Rodno attended to a little business in his office. "A whole hour lost, pish !" and the young man would have articulated his disgust more distinctly had no one been near. His profanity was monosyllabic and only made use of under strong provocation. Somehow the hour stolen from him by the pig-headed ferryman, in a sense, must be passed, and Clifton hotels were not inviting. After a moments thought,

Robert Atwood concluded to stroll up

i8

River Street and back, seeing so much of Clifton, and viewing from afar, to his annoyance, the sleeping sands of South Jersey. Now, he found River Street was pretty, particularly so in May, and the few people that he met had a thoroughly self-satisfied air, which circumstance led him to conclude that River Street was a spot peculiarly blessed in their estimation, — so blessed that all who dwelt beyond its limits were to be pitied. Robert felt that, seeing he was a stranger, he was pitied by the folk he met, and he did not like it Could it be possible, he wondered, even in a quiet little village unknown to the outside world, that the people were divided and subdivided, — a few on this shelf and a few on that, and all so stirred by jealousies that the poor pastors of the several churches had hard time of it to prevent open warfare. Robert looked up the quiet cross-streets and wondered why as good people could not live there, but he doubted it The atmosphere of River Street whispered the open secret^ or he read it in the faces

'9 of the airish girls he met, that a backstreeter seeks too much in expecting recognition on Clifton's main avenue. A carriage and pair could not secure more than civil treatment from the people who lived on River Street They were a peculiar people, — set apart, in their own estimation, — ^and woe unto him who forgets it " Yet," Robert ventured to say to himself, "they are really like every other community, very much of a mixture, I have no doubt Doubtless, this pretty road along the river-shore has its rich liars and poor truthful folk, and the happy medium who prefer the latter, to the disgust of the mendacious plutocrats."

Robert Atwood imagined all this and much more as he passed house after house. There was nothing strange in it He was right in all essential particulars, for the simple reason that such a condition everywhere exists. What he had seen of the world elsewhere was true of this small town, and so it is

even of the unfashionable, informal

ao iiii^mn back country. He of the newly-painted house snubs his neighbor of the whitewashed cottage. Thinking how funny it all was, and finding he had gone far enough not to have to hurry back, he was just turning about when he was somewhat startled by a salutation apparently addressed to him.

"Hello, Bob, where do you hail from ?"

Robert looked up and saw a club acquaintance whom he had long known, and replied, " Hello, Ned, what are you doing here ?"

"Loafing at present Came on an errand, and am on my way to the station."

" Know anybody here?" Robert asked.

"Yes; the Maurices."

"Who?" asked Robert, with a tone suggestive of surprise.

"The Maurices," repeated his friend.

" Big name for a little place. Fresh importation ?"

"Oh, no. Lived here a long time. Connected with the railroad, and up and down to the city every day. Have a jolly place on the river-bank ?"

** Seemed to me," Robert remarked, " as I walked along, this river-shore was something better than being shut in by the same old evergreens as out our way."

" I like it here," replied his friend ; " but it's a long way from healthy. Chills every year till you get used to 'em."

"The deuce I"

" Exactly so, deuce or two ; chills and fever."

" Give us a rest, Ned ; I'm going across when the fellow's ready to paddle his old tub over."

" Over to Riverside ?"

" Yes, and beyond ; I've got an errand over there, and it's lucky these are long days."

"Sorry I can't keep you company* I'd get Algernon Maurice to set you across, but he's so awful lazy. You'll save time by waiting for the ferry. It isn't much to row across, but Algy turns pale if you mention a row-boat"

"Due, I suppose," said Robert, "to living in a sleepy village. Seems to me everybody I met was yawning or wanted to."

"You're about right ; but I'm pushed for time ; good-by."

It was so unusual for any one to huny on River Street, that many a face peeped through the blinds as Edward Anderson strode away, and when he was gone these same faces stared at and wondered who Robert Atwood might be and what was his errand. Had they followed him, they would have learned that he crossed the feriy to Riverside, and something more, perhaps, — that he had become quite interested in Clifton, and determined to ask Ned Anderson more about it ; and when the ferry-boat was rounding the lower end of Matinicunk Island, he thought he would like to take a boatride all around it, even if he went with Algernon Maurice.

Chapter II

" A FORK and two spoons, mother, ii, what does it mean ?"

"It means, I presume, two spoons and a fork, Alice ; what else could it

"But I dropped 'em, and so somebody's coming. It's a sure sign ; and thee or Aunt Martha said so."

"Not I, surely."

"Well, somebody's coming, so I'll keep on the lookout Is my hair smooth ?"

" Alice, .what is the matter with thee, to carry on so ? It is silly to go on so. Does thee expect anybody?" And Mrs. Ridgeley looked very intently at her lively daughter for a moment

"And there's the old red rooster, right at the kitchen door. What better evidence of prophetic warning, as Robert Kirby says every First-day morning, and has said for twenty years, with a shout as he sits down, about the ''ings of weagles.' "

"Alice, dear, don't canyon so," said her mother, in a half-amused, half-supplicating way.

" Carry on ? Why, mother, it is the simple, sober truth. Thee said thyself that friend Kirby preached that same sermon at thy wedding, and here am I, a sedate maiden of twenty, who has been brought up on it ; but never mind. No, I didn't expect anybody, of course, until all this happened ; but now, somebody's coming and I wish I knew who." And Alice looked up the long lane and suddenly turned about with a rueful countenance, or else an assumed air of deep disappointment

" Ifs just my luck. The fish-man is in the lane. Want any clams, mother ?" And Alice imitated cleverly the fishmonger's voice.

Mrs. Ridgeley could not repress a smile, and replied, —

"No, dear, not to-day. Will thee tell him, please?"

Alice pulled her pet collie's ear with a trace of impatience while she waited for the lumbering old fish-wagon to approach, and then, as suddenly as April clouds make way for sunshine, her face was wreathed in smiles.

"There is somebody coming, after all," she called to her mother. "TU believe in falling forks hereafter, rooster and spoons thrown in. Somebody, sure enough, and a stranger."

Alice said, " No" very curtly to the astonished fish-monger before the man had spoken, but he, not being a fool, saw how preoccupied she was, and significantly grinning, after glancing down the lane, much to her indignation, he went directly to the kitchen door and announced fresh fish in such persuasive way that Mrs. Ridgeley bought more than she needed, though possibly vaguely impressed by the statements of both her daughter and this man that a visitor was in the lane.

When a young woman sees a young man approaching her home, and realizes at a glance that he is not only a stranger but evidently a person of equal social standing, her curiosi^ is at once aroused. This is one of the laws or rules concerning humanity absolutely without ex~ ceptioa Who is he? What does he want? These are the two questions that are invariably asked in the same breath and, of course, never immediately answered.

Alice Ridgeley was not given to idleness, and yet never had had too much to do. In other words, she enjoyed life, and when the merry May days came, it seemed to her that all the world should feel as she did, disposed to laugh, sing, and dance. Mere quiet walking and serious meditation could wait till the year was older.

The day was perfect and bird-full as a May day in central New Jersey only can be, with never a bough but with its warbler, and never a fruit-tree but laden with blossoms. Alice Ridgeley had not yet met with any setbacks. She knew sorrow only from hearsay or seen its marks on others. She did not hold herself as proof against it when it came, but until it did she must laugh and love the world as she found it, and the stranger now drawing near to where she was standing, by a great sweetbrier near the door, was a source of genuine pleasure, because an unexpected inci^ dent of the day. Birds and flowers, she had supposed, would occupy pretty much all her time, but here was something new, and she felt a little like the field naturalist when he finds himself face to face with a new species. " He's goodlooking," she said to herself; he's well-dressed, she noted at a glance. He's from the city, she assured herself with a positiveness that would do credit to Lucretius in his way of laying down the law.

By this time passive mental activity

had to give way to active thought and action^ for the stranger was now at arm's length, and she looked up at the proper moment to see him raising his hat in the most approved manner and to hear him ask, " Is Miss Ridgeley at home ?*'

" I am Miss Ridgely, or as I should say, I suppose, Alice Ridgeley. Can I be of any service ?*'

Robert Atwood handed her his card, and said as he did so, "Your resemblance to Henry Ridgeley of Riverside is so marked, I felt sure to whom I was speaking.*'

"Well, that is news to me. Harry's dark and I am light ; or do you mean I look just like a man ?" Alice asked, with a bewitching smile that told just a little on Robert Atwood.

How he wanted to look indefinitely at her dark blue eyes, but he looked away as he replied, "Oh, I did not mean that, but there is a strong family likeness, do you not think so ?"

"I suppose there is," replied Alice,

"but I never thought much about it

Will you come in ?"

"Thanks, but really it is delightful here."

" And you prefer standing to sitting ?" asked Alice, giving him again a look that stirred his pulse.

"Well, I can hardly say that, but the step of the porch will do very well, though I am not tired."

" Would not the seat on the porch be better than the step?"

" ReaUy, I did not "

" Notice, I see ; you are from the city. Are not city men comprehensively observant ? You saw the porch and was not aware there was a seat on each side of it I am not tired of standing, but I think it more comfortable to sit when one has something to say."

Roberts ears tingled just a little. He had not anticipated such a reception, but rather scanty words from a demure Quakeress. After a moment's pause, he recovered himself and said, " Please, Miss Ridgeley, permit me to state my errand and the question of being seated can be settled afterwards. I understand you are the keeper of the Riverside Quaker Meeting Records, and I desired to consult them for my sister."

" Yes, it is true that I have the records in charge, but now they are not all here ; only the later ones."

"Thafs bad for me," said Robert ** I wanted to learn what I could from them of Marmaduke Bloomfield."

" Marmaduke Bloomfield ! Are you a descendant of his?" Alice asked, with evident surprise.

" I am told by my sister that I am," Robert replied

" And I am of his brother, so go back one step and we have a common ancestor. I have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of a new cousin." And Alice made a neat little courtesy, such as was known to our grandmothers and is now almost a lost art Robert Atwood bowed profoundly, and was struggling hard to find something very nice to say, when Alice continued, " But cousins of remote degree are always very plentiful"

" And so they do not appeal to you ?* ' he asked.

"Well, not always," she slowly and thoughtfully replied,

"You have probably had some unfortunate experience?" Robert suggested.

" Not at all ; but I can give you such a shock, if you wish it" And Alice tried hard not to laugh, although there was really nothing to laugh a^ but she could not go about with a grim countenance on a bright May morning.

" I cannot say," replied Robert, " that I am a candidate for disappointment and yet I read it in your manner, Miss Ridgeiey."

"The Riveiside records will not aid you much, if at all, as your ancestor was not a Friend, — that is, he was once, but not in later life. I am truly sorty, if you have had all this trouble for nothing."

" Joined some other church, you mean?" suggested Robert

"No, not that He was disowned

by the Friends." And Alice looked at ttmwin wmntiimit""« ■ ■■-■ the blooming sweetbrier as she spoke. Robert Atwood drew in a long breath and then came very near whistling. Alice read him like a book, and, with a merry laugh at his puzzled countenance, said, "Oh, whistle if you like. That's what all the birds are doing."

"And am I a bird?" asked Robert

"I am not prepared to express any opinion ; but you are disappointed, and I am awfully sorry. You came to me for this information, and what could I do? I mean that I can only tell you what you do not wish to know. Our records do not mention his marriage."

"But you know about his brother?" Robert remarked, scarcely knowing what to say.

" Yes ; he was my great-grandfather, and lived here, and built this house in 1800," Alice replied, not looking at Robert as she spoke.

"And did his father before him live here?" Robert asked.

"Yes; out there in the workshop." And Alice pointed to an old frame 3 33 building that had once been a dwelling.

"And my ancestor," continued Robert, "was bom there and moved to where ?"

" About a mile away, where he lived long enough to repent of his folly, so I have heard father say." And Alice showed she was quite tired of discussing the matter.

"* Repent of his folly,'" Robert repeated. " Oh, I see !" And from that moment he did not need to be further instructed He knew now that his ancestor had never married, and so he bit his lips and wondered what next to say.

Alice Ridgeley bit hers and was awfully sorry she had said so much.

There was an embarrassing pause that time would have made worse had not Mrs. Ridgeley come to the door at the right moment and asked the stranger if he would not be seated, and could her daughter give him the desired information.

Robert Atwood bowed to the mother of his fair companion, and assuring her he had learned what he wished to know — ^Alice interrupted him momentarily by a little gurgle that meant volumes, but he quickly recovered himself and continued that his visit had proved an unexpected pleasure — ^another gurgle in Alice's fair throat — and he would not trespass further upon their time, and he was about to conclude with "good-morning," when Mrs. Ridgeley, seeing he was somewhat ill at ease, asked him if he would not be seated and rest himself after his walk from town.

Robert Atwood was not at all disposed to do so under the circumstances. If the unexpected had not happened he could have spent the whole day over old records under Miss Ridgele/s guidance ; but as it was, he had no relish for genealogical research ; so, bowing to the ladies, he turned and walked slowly down the lane.

Mother and daughter stood in the door-way a moment looking at Robert's retreating figure and then passed into the house. As they did so, Alice said to her mother, —

"I wish rd never heard of the Riverside records or the Bloomfields either."

"Why, dear, what is the trouble now ?*' asked her mother.

" Mother, the look on his face when he guessed the truth about old Marmaduke Bloomfield was horrible. It*s enough to haunt me for a week."

" Was the young man a Bloomfield ?** Mrs. Ridgeley asked.

*' No ; here is his card."

JLJit^ ^jd^u^<,.a^.

1820 Elm Avenue,

" Oh, an Atwood. I know of them ; well, the Atwood part is all right," remarked Mrs. Ridgeley.

"Then," said Alice, "the Bloomfield part is all on the surface in his case, for he was not all right in looks when it dawned upon him and he said, after me, * Repent of his folly.' It sounded like a voice from the tombs."

" Really, Alice, the young man seems to have made an impression on thee."

"An exceedingly disagreeable one, mother, I am sorry to say," Alice replied, and then she stepped again into the wide hall and turned towards the lane. She saw Robert Atwood at the roadgate, standing still, and, as she thought, looking towards the house. Was he going to return? In a moment the field-glasses that hung by the old clock were brought into use, and she found that she was right, in part ; he was looking back ; and then she thought he was looking directly into her eyes from the other end of the glasses, and she promptly put them in their case and went to her room.

Chapter III The Hermits Home Invaded

AN admirably well-dressed woman of some thirty summers, — it might be more or less, no one could tell, — and who was noticeable perhaps more from her manner than any marked characteristic of form or feature, lefi^ with an audible expression of dissatisfaction, or, shall we say, of resignation, her comfortable seat in the Pullman car when the train stopped at Riverside. She surveyed the surroundings with some slight show of interest, as if she felt that here was to be the scene of some future events wherein she was to figure. She glanced at every passenger that was going away, or, like her, leaving the train, and her manner caused very nearly every one who saw her to look back at her with an expression of curiosity plainly shown on their faces. Whether or not this woman was really curious as to those whom she saw, the interest of certain Riverside people in her was unquestionable. After a full two minutes of this staring and staring back, the stranger asked a uniformed attendant at the station for a carriage and driver. This good-natured enemy of valise and trunk was somewhat astonished at the woman's imperious manner, but gave her the necessary information as to where her want could be supplied, and she marched off not a little nettled to find that the man was not wholly at her beck and call But she was too intent upon her errand to spend many moments in fault-finding, and telling the stable-owner what she required, and paying in advance, was soon on her way out the Pemberton pike. What was the trend of her thoughts for the first two miles of her journey is not known, but that she was anticipating an exciting meeting somewhere, with some one, was evident Her manner, «even as she sat well back in the carriage seat; showed she was preparing