This etext was produced by Pat Castevans <patcat@ctnet.net>
and David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
By George Meredith
1905
By twelve o'clock at noon next day the inhabitants of Raynham Abbey knewthat Berry, the baronet's man, had arrived post-haste from town, withorders to conduct Mr. Richard thither, and that Mr. Richard had refusedto go, had sworn he would not, defied his father, and despatched Berry tothe Shades. Berry was all that Benson was not. Whereas Benson hatedwoman, Berry admired her warmly. Second to his own stately person, womanoccupied his reflections, and commanded his homage. Berry was ofmajestic port, and used dictionary words. Among the maids of Raynham hisconscious calves produced all the discord and the frenzy those adornmentsseem destined to create in tender bosoms. He had, moreover, thereputation of having suffered for the sex; which assisted his object ininducing the sex to suffer for him. What with his calves, and hisdictionary words, and the attractive halo of the mysteriousvindictiveness of Venus surrounding him, this Adonis of the lowerhousehold was a mighty man below, and he moved as one.
On hearing the tumult that followed Berry's arrival, Adrian sent for him,and was informed of the nature of his mission, and its result.
"You should come to me first," said Adrian. "I should have imagined youwere shrewd enough for that, Berry?"
"Pardon me, Mr. Adrian," Berry doubled his elbow to explain. "Pardon me,sir. Acting recipient of special injunctions I was not a free agent."
"Go to Mr. Richard again, Berry. There will be a little confusion if heholds back. Perhaps you had better throw out a hint or so of apoplexy.A slight hint will do. And here—Berry! when you return to town, youhad better not mention anything—to quote Johnson—of Benson'sspiflication."
"Certainly not, sir."
The wise youth's hint had the desired effect on Richard.
He dashed off a hasty letter by Tom to Belthorpe, and, mounting hishorse, galloped to the Bellingham station.
Sir Austin was sitting down to a quiet early dinner at his hotel, whenthe Hope of Raynham burst into his room.
The baronet was not angry with his son. On the contrary, for he wassingularly just and self-accusing while pride was not up in arms, he hadbeen thinking all day after the receipt of Benson's letter that he wasdeficient in cordiality, and did not, by reason of his excessive anxiety,make himself sufficiently his son's companion: was not enough, as hestrove to be, mother and father to him.; preceptor and friend; previsorand associate. He had not to ask his conscience where he had lately beento blame towards the System. He had slunk away from Raynham in the verycrisis of the Magnetic Age, and this young woman of the parish (as Bensonhad termed sweet Lucy in his letter) was the consequence.
Yes! pride and sensitiveness were his chief foes, and he would trample onthem. To begin, he embraced his son: hard upon an Englishman at anytime—doubly so to one so shamefaced at em