CHAPTER XXXVI. TABLE TALK CONTINUED. Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law SHAKSPEARE. To the alehouse! I see, reader, you are as much surprised as Tremaine himself was, when the Doctor bustled off; only I am not sure that the finer gentleman did not even begin to question the soundness of his friend's intellect. 66 He at least carries the simplicity of nature as far as reasonable vulgarity can wish," thought Tremaine to himself. To his daughter and Careless, however, this movement of Evelyn's seemed nothing extraordinary; and while Tremaine fell into a fit of musing, doubtful whether to set it down to the mere rusticity, which too familiar and mixing a disposition never failed, he said, to contract, or to wait for an explanation of this and two or three other oddities, his companions left him, to inspect, under the auspices of Mrs. Becky, the foaming repast which the Doctor had commanded. Tremaine, wondering whether all this was happiness or not, found himself alone, or at least saw his companions at a distance, so occupied either with one another, or what they appeared to be preparing with their own hands, that he seemed to be neglected—a situation he never likedand he immediately joined them. "Can I not be useful?" asked Tremaine. "Exceedingly so, if you like," answered Georgina. "If you are not above it," said Careless. "I can never be above a lady's commands, whatever the business," rejoined Tremaine, with an air of gallantry. "Then carry this immense bench," proceeded Georgina, "to the door of the porch; and then this immense bowl to the cow, that is waiting for it under the elm." "We may have hopes of him," cried Careless, perceiving that he prepared to obey. The bench was placed, and the bowl carried; and to Evelyn's astonishment, when he returned, he found Tremaine in the act of bringing it back, and with his own hands placing it on the table within the porch. It was a very pretty porch, composed of the trunks of some young trees, which Jack had cut in thinning his plantation, preserving all their nodosities, as stages for the honeysuckle and jessamine to climb-which they did most luxuriantly to their very tops. "You never did this at Belmont," exclaimed Evelyn, who had rejoined them. "I never had the same motive," said he, looking at Georgina, who seemed far from displeased. "He will do in time," observed Careless. The party took their seats, waited upon by Mrs. Becky and her niece, a young girl full of freshness, curtesies, and civility, who had milked the cow into the bowl, and now, in the whitest of aprons and cleanest of pinners, seemed anxious and proud to be employed. "Confess," said Evelyn, quaffing his syllabub, "that a pastoral is not merely an imaginary pleasure." "I never thought so till now," replied Tremaine, "and own I never enjoyed it before.” "What, not at Belmont?" retorted Evelyn, with some archness. "I had no companions," said Tremaine," and could not, therefore, have such a feast as this." "But solitude is above company, and disdains such mean helps," continued the Doctor, drily. "Even in solitude I could not have had this," replied Tremaine, "for I dined almost always by candle-light." "Another reason for leaving off so inconvenient a custom," returned Evelyn; "for, besides that an exhausted stomach does not easily recover its tone, you lose the enjoyment of that delightful calm which evening always brings with it." "Yet evening is evening, whether before or after dinner," retorted Tremaine. i By the clock I grant you," replied Evelyn, "but not by the mind. There is a soothing stillness at the closing-in of day which seems naturally to say things are at rest; a proposition which a hungry stomach is by no means disposed to admit." "This is mere raillery," cried Tremaine. "I never was more in earnest," answered the Doctor, "nor would I exchange, first the little occupations, and afterwards the mental treat that evening brings with it, for all the supposed advantages, as they are called, of finishing business before dinner. We get rid of business, indeed, but only by getting an indigestion; which, for one, I would rather be without." "What could public men do?" asked Tremaine. "What used they to do?" rejoined Evelyn. do they even now ?-for I am misinformed if business is not now more agreeably done in the House of Commons, by its leaders dining at three o'clock, than when they exhausted themselves in debate, in order to have full leisure, after it was over, for a table which they could not enjoy." "What "You mentioned occupations, continued Tremaine ; "I should be glad to know, in the country, what occupations can press, so as to call for afternoon exertion ?" 66 If they do not," rebutted Evelyn, "your only reason for late dining fails, because you may then choose your hour. But I own there are a thousand little superintendencies of domestic economy, which I am not above, and should not if I were master of Woodington; and even if there were not, there are exercises, or reading, which, if it were only to earn our evening walk, and so make it more valuable, would employ me with pleasure both at home and abroad." 66 "Your superintendencies?" said Tremaine, pressingly. Why, as a country 'squire, I should not be afraid of offending, by a thing so orthodox as the stable. I love my horse as I do anything that seems, by its docility and patience, to love me in doing me good." "That's downright Yorkshire, and quite right," cried Careless. 66 "It is a real treat, therefore, exclusive of the advantage, to see him as comfortable for the night as I am myself. But exclusive of this," continued the Doctor, as a philosopher, or even a bon vivant, I do not blush to say, that watering my own vegetables, or at least seeing it well done, is in summer not only one of the most useful, but the pleasantest of occupations." Tremaine looked at Georgina. "You will not get her of your side," added he: "for while the Diocletian cabbages we talked of the other day employ all my care, she is not the less intent upon her roses and her mignonette." 66 They seem so grateful!" said Georgina. "But your exercises, Sir?" "Oh! quoits, bowls, or even nine-pins; these help the salutary process of digestion; after which the calm which the later hour brings on is perfect, whether in a walk lighted up by the moon, or a little social conversation on Work of day past, or morrow's next return. This sends me to rest, if I have no guilt on my conscience, with much more chance of the sweetest of all refreshment, sleep, than with the remorse that always attends idleness, and wine and coffee reeking in my throat." A pause ensued, during which Georgina took her father's hand, with looks expressive of that approbation which is derived from the most perfect coincidence of sentiment. She then turned to Tremaine, as if expecting a counter system; but he held his peace and the pause continued. It was broken by Careless exclaiming, "I should be glad, Mr. Tremaine, to know what you have to say to all this?" Luckily for Tremaine (who in truth had but little to 'say to all this,' and what is more, felt as much), the servants brought the horses round by the spot where they were sitting, and the conversation and the party broke up together-Georgina anticipating the delicious moonlight ride they would have home, and Tremaine taking leave of his host with a heartier hand shake, and a feeling of more internal respect, than he had ever yet been inclined to entertain for him. CHAPTER XXXVII. REFINEMENT STILL ASSERTS ITSELF. The self-same sun that shines upon his court, SHAKSPEARE. "AND how do you like Jack's house, and Jack's life?" said Evelyn, breaking a pause after they had ridden about a quarter of a mile. It is quite enough that he should like them," replied Tremaine. "He is the happiest creature in the world," added Georgina; "his wants are so few." That would apply to a savage," remarked Tremaine. "True," said Georgina, submittingly. "Jack is no But the Doctor never liked to submit. savage," said he; "he does not make so good a bow as you or I do" (the Doctor once piqued himself on his bow), "nor perhaps has he as many ideas drawn from other men's heads; but what he has are genuine and sound, and his heart is in the right place." "That might do for a savage too," said Tremaine. "Yes! I suppose when he cuts his prisoner in pieces, and eats him," returned Evelyn. "Jack's wants being few, does not make him the more like a savage, though it may make him happier; for these wants are SO moderate, yet so interesting, as to be just enough within his reach to prevent any great anxiety, and just enough out of it to give him occupation." |