University of Virginia Library

43. CHAPTER XLIII.
AN UNEXPECTED VISITER ACTUALLY COMES.

A VIOLENT thumping was heard at the door of Willow
Croft, which, before it could be properly noticed, answered
itself, and burst into the house in the obese and burly shape
of Climper, of Climper's, or rather of Merrywater. He had
on a farmer's frock, and brandished a large whip in his hand.
“I am an odd fish,” he said; “I know I am. People abuse
me, and I let them alone; — that is odd. They are kind to
me, and I am kind to them; — that is odd. They won't be
happy, and I make them happy; — that, again, is odd. Out
of this,” — he touched Richard with his whip, — “no more
sulking! You would n't dance with Mrs. Melbourne, and I
made you; and she likes it, and has had some more of it,
and I mean she shall have more yet. I love to please people.
Forward!”

This was concise and forcible, — rather too much so for
Richard, in his present weak state. He would fain have an
explanation. The commentary was as obscure as the text.
But Richard learned as much as this, — that Climper liked
Richard and the Governor's Family; — there may have been
cause from the fact that the Governor and his Family, and the
coaches belonging to Munk, Richard's brother-in-law, often
visited Merrywater, and were profitable customers of Climper;
— that he had heard of the rupture between them, and possessed,
as he imagined, a clue to the origin of it in Clover.
This fellow had been at Merrywater with Miss Eyre. Once,
being out with them on the pond, and drowsily tending the

tiller, and, as they thought, sleeping, he overheard Clover
urging Miss Eyre to the assault of Richard, and particularly
suggesting the method of approach, through Mrs. Melbourne.
He thought little of it at the time,—believed Richard
could take care of himself. But a party, comprising
Captain Creamer, Mangil, Helen the Good, and Miss Freeling,
being at his house, told him of the disastrous and irretrievable
result. This man cherished, moreover, a particular
disrelish for Clover, who ran up bills at Merrywater
which he never paid, and plagued Climper by a little yelping
terrier that he took with him. Coming to Woodylin
with a load of vegetables for the Market, he went to Willow
Croft with purposes that he whimsically and characteristically
unfolded.

He would lead Richard to the Governor's. Richard drew
back. “That's pleasant,” said he. “I like opposition. It
stimulates me. Forward! I'll cry fire, if you wish it, and
raise the neighbors. Shall I run off with one of the children?
Shall I go and let your hens out of the coop? Shall
I get the city crier to ring your dumpishness through the
streets, — or you will not start? He laid his hand on
Richard's collar. The children clung to their mother, who
was herself alarmed. “I am not much used to women and
children,” he said. “They are flesh, I suppose; and all
flesh is vanity. If Richard knew this, he would be wiser
than he is now. We must teach him.”

At this instant, Aunt Grint entered the room, in one of
her panics, though of a pleasanter sort than usual. “What
is it?” she exclaimed. “We heard crickets as lively as
could be! I could n't stop. I told Sally to mind the pot,
and I'd run out, and see.”

“We want this fellow to go to the Governor's,” replied
Climper, “and he is n't willing. It's a dreadful cross, but
he must bear it.”

“That's it!” echoed the old woman. “I knew it was
something pleasant. I could n't stay to put up the dishes,
but come right out in the suds as I was. He shall go.”

If Climper pulled at Richard's collar, Aunt Grint seemed
to drub his shoulders.

Resistance was unavailing against this novel pertinacity.
Richard took his hat, and went with Climper. Reluctantly,
and with a shudder of trepidation, he allowed
himself to be taken to and through the Governor's gate, and
across the yard, and up the piazza, and face to face with the
great front-door. He must endure the heavy tramp of his
companion where he wished himself all cat's-paws, and his
violent ringing of the bell when there was not strength
enough in his own arm to shake a cob-web. Climper asked
for Mrs. Melbourne, and they were taken to the drawing-room.
Mrs. Melbourne appeared. She was formal and
reserved. She did not know to what she owed the honor of
the visit or the company. “To the pleasure I have in coming
to see you,” replied Climper, — “the same as people
come to see me.” “People often behave very rudely at your
house,” replied Mrs. Melbourne. “I know they do,” rejoined
Climper, “and that is what has brought me here.
This young man —”

“I thought you would refer to his conduct,” interrupted
the lady; “but you need not. We are too well informed.
We do not wish the subject broached in this way, Mr.
Climper.”

“There are some things you would be glad to know.”

“Nothing, — nothing.”

“There are some things I should like to tell you. I am
an odd man, — very odd; I love to tell the truth.”

“If anything more is to be said, I must call witnesses. I
am disinclined to personal communications relating to Mr.
Edney.”

She left the room firmly, and returned with Miss Rowena,
Barbara, and Glendar, — a formidable troop, that
would have abashed anybody but Climper. Cousin took a
seat on the sofa by Richard. Barbara posted herself behind
the centre-table, where she thrust one hand into a book, as
if she would let agitation discharge at the ends of her fingers
into its leaves. Glendar sat very stiffly in a chair, with
his hand in his vest. It fell to Mrs. Melbourne to face the
occasion, and support its dignity.

Climper, in his way, related the plot Clover had concerted
against the peace of Richard and the Family.

“I know nothing of Clover, — neither do I desire to,”
interposed Mrs. Melbourne.

“Perhaps you do not,” rejoined Climper. “I always go
against people's feelings, you say. I cannot stop that now;
— you must know about him.”

“You will not insult my Aunt,” said Glendar.

“Nor you either, so long as you run up bills at Merrywater,
which I suppose your Aunt is to pay.”

Glendar grew more stiff in his chair, and seemed with the
hand in his vest to be clutching at his heart. Mrs. Melbourne
looked angrily at Climper, and worriedly at her
nephew. Cousin bit her lip very hard.

“There is nothing frightful in Clover.” Mrs. Melbourne
tried to laugh the matter off. Climper laughed harder, and
added, “You are right. I have got my heel upon him.”

“He is not a brute.” This was a fling at Climper himself.

“He loves dogs, and is a dog!”

“He is n't Miss Eyre; — you must know he is n't, Mr.
Climper; and that is where wickedness lies.”

Barbara trembled, and Richard, too.

“I have told you the truth about him,” continued Climper;
“and whether he is Miss Eyre or not, you can see. I

rather guess Miss Eyre is n't him, and is somebody else, and
you would do well to think so. He is a villain; and if she
is n't him, perhaps she is n't a villain. Think of that. It
may do you all good to think of that. And I mean somebody
shall think of that. If you do not, and Miss Melicent
would come in, I would make her think of it.”

This allusion to Melicent brought Glendar to his feet, but
it did not anybody else. Spending himself in an effort to
stand, tired, the young man left the room, and was speedily
followed by his indignant Aunt.

Climper said, “My business was with Mrs. Melbourne,
and I will go,” — and took his leave.

No sooner was he out of the house than Mrs. Melbourne
returned, in haste, and flushed.

“We have been abused by that man. He was always a
brute!” she said.

“You are very kind to the brute creation, Mrs. Melbourne,”
said Cousin, softly.

This was better said than received. It raised a storm, in
which Richard would fain have got away.

“All this is nothing to the point,” said Mrs. Melbourne.
“You must see that it is n't, Rowena.” She did not deign
to address Richard.

“If it's Clover's doings —” Cousin Rowena began to say.

“'T is somebody's else doings!” Mrs. Melbourne said
this with a tone so terrible, and a look so scathing, Richard
could not contain himself, and quite abruptly left the house.

He did, however, hear other words which Mrs. Melbourne
uttered, with a loud and almost tragic emphasis —

“You must see, Barbara, that Clover's agency don't alter
Miss Eyre's wrongs, nor that fellow's baseness!”

These words, and the ring of the voice, adhered to Richard
all the way home.