Barford

“ Lord DARCEY to the Honourable GEORGE MOLESWORTH.
Barford Abbey.
Prepare your ten pieces, George!—Upon my honour, I was at Barford Abbey a quarter before three, notwithstanding a detention on the road by Lord Michell and Flecher, driving on Jehu for Bath, in his Lordship's phaeton and fix.—You have seen them before this,—and, I suppose, know their errand.—The girl is an egregious fool, that is certain.—I warrant there are a hundred bets depending.—I ask'd what he intended doing with her if he succeeded?—Do with her! said his Lordship; why, she is not more than eighteen ”

“ Barford, the real mistress of the house, for the farm belonged to her, and she shared the profits with her son; had quite recovered from the ague, which she attributed to the good nursing and care of Dorothy. She and her son's wife were not on very good terms.
Mrs. Barford, as a country heiress, had received a boarding-school education, and was very superior to Letty in every respect. Her mother died when she was very young. After her father's death, which happened before she was out of her teens, she had married the bailiff, who [Pg 140] farmed the estate for her benefit. ”

“ I am often enough squeez'd by them:—though hard as a horse's hoof, and the colour of tanned leather, I hold her capable of friendship.—Neck she has none,—smile she has none! yet need I the determination of another, to tell me whether my regard for her proceeds from love or friendship?—Awake,—Awake, Darcey,—Awake:—Have you any value for your own peace?—have you any for that of Miss Warley's? If so, leave Barford Abbey.—Should you persist in loving her, for love her I know you do?—Should the quiet of such an amiable woman as you describe be at stake? ”

“ Ah, well, my dear sir, it is what we must all come to. He was a fine old gentleman, a very fine old gentleman,--has not left many like him in Gloucestershire; more's the pity;" and Dr. Barford continued to talk on with smooth professional glibness, by no means unconscious of the fact that he was not listened to by Miles Challoner with even a show of attention. ”

“ Barford one day that the steward met the doctor taking his gig by a short cut through a lane which formed the boundary of Rowley Court on one side,--"I really can't make him out. He cares for nothing; and it is not natural for a young gentleman like him. ”

“ Salaman turned on Sover.
“Get outside and wait for me there,” he snarled softly, and Sover made haste to obey.
The little man locked the door behind him and turned to the Barfords. The woman, close in her husband's arms, was weeping terribly.
Over the fair, gleaming head, Barford looked with mute mystified appeal at Salaman—who spoke earnestly.
“I am old enough to be the father of either of you two,” he said. “There's something to tell you that Lady Barford shrinks from. So I will do it. After all, it's not so deadly. She has been sinned against more than she has sinned. ”

“ IT was a golden morning as we left Warwick, and with slow feet followed Avon down through the park towards Barford Bridge, where our canoe lay ready for us. The light, too generously spread to dazzle, bathed the castle towers, lay on the terraces, where the peacocks sunned themselves, and on the living rock below them, where the river washes. Only on the weir it fell in splashes, scattered through the elms’ thick foliage. At the water’s brim, below Mill Street, stood a man with a pitcher—a stranger to us—who took our farewells with equable astonishment. ”

“ Barford, from Alaric's description of him. "But you don't work all the time, do you?"
"No. Laddie and I go in swimming, and roam around generally all over the place. You seem to like trotting off by yourself a great deal too. ”

“ Salaman, instant, even anxious, as usual, to discover offense, thrust his fierce face close to that of Mr. Sover.
“I am Salaman Chayne—remember that. And I allow no man to be insolent with me. Remember that, also, Sover. I am engaged at present in aiding the law to run down an employer of yours—a man called Dragour.”
The flush on the jockey's thin face died down suddenly, and his eyes grew hard and watchful.
“Dragour!” repeated Mr. Chayne softly, his eyes fast on his man. “Between whom and the Countess of Barford you acted as go-between—jackal—in the matter of the Barford carved rubies.” ”

“ He has a special drug which victims cannot easily obtain except through him—or his agents, for he rarely appears himself. After a period he deprives them of supplies and they become desperate, as drug takers do under deprivation. Then this scoundrel—this pest—the Drugmaster—Dragour, he is called—makes his bargain, always through agents. In the case of Lady Barford, Sover, her jockey, was the agent. He offered to renew her supply of the drug in return for the heirloom rubies. Lady Barford gave Sover the rubies to hand to Dragour. ”

“ Well might he start; for Lord Caterham threw his hands wildly above his head, then let them fall helplessly by his side. By the time Algy Barford had sprung to his chair, and passed his arms around him, the dying man's head had drooped on to his right shoulder, and his eyes were glazing fast.
"Arthur! dear Arthur! one instant! Let me call for help."
"No, Algy; leave us so; no one else. Only one who could--and she--better not--bless her! better not. Take my hand, Algy, old friend--tried, trusted, dear old friend--always thoughtful, always affectionate--God bless you--Algy! ”

“ Now if the infatuation in question had been legitimate, and likely to lead to good results, Algy Barford would have been the very last man on earth to attempt to put a stop to it, or to interfere in any way save for its advancement. But this airy, laughing philosopher, with all his apparent carelessness, was a man of the world and a shrewd reader of human character; and he had made certain inquiries, the result of which proved that Carry Chesterton was, if not all that Lionel Brakespere had made her out, at all events a heartless coquette and fortune-huntress, always rising at the largest fly. ”

“ There were but few days that Algy Barford did not come; bright, airy, and cheerful, bringing sunshine into the sick-room; never noisy or obtrusive, always taking a cheery view of affairs, and never failing to tell the invalid that he looked infinitely better than the last time he had seen him, and that this illness was "evidently a kind of clearing-up shower before the storm, dear old boy," and was the precursor of such excellent health as he had never had before. Lord Caterham, of course, never believed any of this ”

“ This was the decision which the doctors had given to Annie, and which she, in other words, imparted to Algy Barford, who, coupling it with his experience of the guarded manner in which fashionable physicians usually announced their opinions, felt utterly hopeless, and shook his head mournfully. He tried to be himself; to resume his old smile and old confident buoyant way; he told his dear Miss Maurice that she must hope for the best; that these doctor-fellows, by Jove, generally knew nothing; half of them died suddenly themselves, without even having anticipated their own ailments ”

“ Ah, how many years since Gertrude, Countess of Beauport, had allowed real, natural, hot, blinding tears to course down her cheeks! The society people, who only knew her as the calmest, most collected, most imperious woman amongst them, would hardly recognise this palpitating frame, those tear-blurred features. The sight completely finishes Algy Barford, already very much upset by the news which Lady Beauport has communicated, and he can only proffer a seat, and suggest that he should fetch a glass of sherry. ”

“ I do not even know his name, but Lady Barford told me that she thinks he is the same man as troubled her—Dragour was the name she used. He is—is—reaching out for me. The doctor—Doctor Allenmore—was ordered to ste—secure them and hide them. He must have done so—and he was so ashamed that I think he threw himself into the lake immediately after. Life could not have meant very much to him—he was dazed with drugs—or distraught for lack of them. ”

“ In 1773 he resigned Fordingbridge for the rectory of Kimpton, Hertfordshire, which he held along with the living of Allhallows, Lombard Street, till his death in November 1792. He married in 1764. A Latin dissertation of Barford's on the ‘First Pythian’ is published in Dr. ”

“ You haven't got the pluck of a dead fowl, but I'll not deny that your brains are fair—very fair. I'll ask you to stretch 'em another trifle, in fact. How will this help me get on the track of Dragour?”
Without an instant's pause the mountainous Mr. Dass replied:
“Oah, see the Lady Barford, get Sover's address from her if possible, tell Sover you have proof of his passing rubies to Dragour, exhibit rubies to him, and make ugly threats till he betrays Dragour—if he can. Veree simple matter. ”

“ You've heard of the Argrath suicide. That was Dragour's work. He ensnared Lady Argrath, and through her ruined her husband. Never mind that now. That's all your wife has to confess—and what you ought to thank God for is this that it's not come too late. You've got back the heirlooms—though they don't matter much—and you're going to get back your wife! I can see how much that matters. She takes this drug, yes—but, compared with many she's hardly more than a novice at the habit. Be glad of that, Barford, for it affects your whole life. Take her away and protect her. ”

“ Now and then a shot sounded far away, but clear and sharp, from where the guests of my lord of Barfield were killing time in the warren.
A labouring man, smock-frocked, billy-cocked, gaitered, and hob-nailed, was clamping down the frozen lane, the earth ringing like iron under iron as he walked. By his side was a fair-haired lad of nine or ten years of age, a boy of frank and engaging countenance, carefully and even daintily dressed, and holding up his head as if he were a lord of the soil and knew it. ”

“ Whether at the end of the year he would be able to pass the examinations for Hillton, I can’t say. It will depend a great deal on himself. But I should think that, with some help during the summer, as you had planned, he ought [259] to be able to pass. You will see him, you say, at Barrington?”
“Yes, sir; at least, we hope to,” answered Bob. “He said when we left him that he expected to be there about the twentieth. I hope we will find him! When does your school begin, sir?” ”

“ He bolted for the toilet room and got the door fastened behind him before Dan could reach him.
“Looks to me as though we were here for a while,” observed Nelson, glancing through a port at the impenetrable grayness outside. “We can’t go chugging around the place in this fog.”
“Maybe it will burn off after a time,” said Bob. “If we get to Newport before dark we can spend the night there. What’s the good of hurrying, anyhow? We haven’t got to get anywhere at any particular time.”
“Well, there’s Dan to think of. He’s homesick and wants to get to New York, you know.” ”

“ If you’ve got any silly idea in your head that Bob and I are going to buy a house for Miss Comfort to spend the rest of her days in—”
“Don’t be an ass,” begged Laurie.
“All right, but why the locked door, then? And why all the—the talk about it?”
“Nod’s got a scheme,” said Bob, and he beamed trustfully at Laurie.
Ned grunted suspiciously. “Bet you it calls for money,” he said.
“It doesn’t,” replied Laurie. “At least, only a few pennies. The price of a telegram to Sioux City, Iowa, and, divided among the three of us, that won’t amount to anything, I guess.” ”

“ What made you think of that?”
“I don’t know,” answered Dan, puzzled.
“I do,” said Tom. “You’d just told the man you got him at Barrington; see? Barry—Barrington.”
“I guess that was it. Mr. Barry, of Barrington. Well, that isn’t such a bad name.”
“It’s easy to say,” responded Bob. “Here, Barry.”
But the terrier only wagged his tail in a friendly way.
“He’ll learn his name quick enough,” said Dan. “I wonder, though, what his real name is.”
“Let’s see if we can find out,” suggested Bob. “We’ll call him all the names we can think of and see if he answers to any of them.” ”

“ The labourer’s voice only reached the listener in the meadow. He spoke with the Barfield drawl, and his features, which were stiffened by the frozen wind, were twisted into a look of habitual waggery.
‘Well,’ said he, in answer to his young companion, ‘maybe, Master Richard, it might be wicked, but it’s main like natur.’
‘I shan’t hate Joe Mountain when I’m a man,’ said the boy. ”

“ There you are. I really think I’d have Mrs. Crow fix those. You’ve got about a yard more than you need.”
“Or ankled,” growled Jelly, tossing the discarded trousers on to the bench. “Thanks, Kingsford. I’ll do as much for you sometime maybe.”
“I hope you won’t have to,” Evan laughed.
A half-hour later he walked back alone up the hill to Holden, and as he went he reviewed his first day at Riverport. It had been pleasant enough on the whole, he decided. Rob had awakened him at a quarter past seven and there had ensued a mad scramble into clothes and across to Academy Hall for morning prayers. ”

“ Folks who can’t stand a speck of dust on their automobile will get out and eat their lunch and leave the place looking like a pigsty. Ought to be brought back and made to eat every scrap of the mess they leave behind them.”
“Right-o,” agreed Bob, “but I don’t believe these folks were automobilists, Ned. It’s a long way up here from the road.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Ned, “whether they came in a car or walked; they’re hogs just the same.”
“Well, let’s sit down and get our breaths,” said Polly, suiting action to words. “That’s a [149] perfectly frightful climb, isn’t it. ”

“ They’re real friendly folks. Mr. Parmenter hauled the coal that’s in the bin in the boiler-room himself. That shelving is all new. Brose and Bob put that up. The hanging lamp in the center is one Mrs. Deane had. Miss Starling sent those flowers. Looks pretty nice, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t mind living here yourself? Well, neither would I! And look at the view from those windows; sun sparkling on the water, boats passing! Think Miss Comfort’ll like it?
That was a busy, bustling morning. As early as Ned and Laurie and Kewpie reached the Pequot Queen, Polly and Mae and Brose Wilkins were before them. ”