Kenrick

“ Kenrick loved the place—castle, village, river—low-lying water meadows—ancient avenues—fair green field where the foundations of the abbey had been marked out with rows of stones—a stone for each pillar in nave and aisles—chancel [214] and apse—he loved all these things with a love that was almost a passion. His heart thrilled within him when he came back to the familiar scene after a year or more of exile. His nature, not too warm elsewhere, warmed to the old goodies and gaffers of Culverhouse village with an unalterable tenderness. ”

“ Wigman and Onslow drank to the sentiment, but Kenrick, calling a negro waiter, handed the glass to him, and said: “Throw that to the pigs, and bring me a fresh glass.”
“Halloo! What the deuce do you mean by that?” cried Robson. “Have we a Bourbon among us? Have we a Yankee sympathizer among us? Is it possible? Does Mr. Charles Kenrick of Kenrick, son of Robert Kenrick, Esq., Confederate M. C., and heir to a thousand niggers, refuse to drink to the downfall of Abolitionism, and those other isms against which we’ve drawn the sword and flung away the scabbard?” ”

“ Besides, it’s so frightfully cold, now that we are obliged to go slowly.”
“Let’s stop and consider what we’d best do,” said Kenrick. “Walter, what do you say?”
“We can only do one of two things. Either go on, and trust to God’s mercy to keep us safe, or sit still here and hope that the mist may clear away.”
“That last’ll never do,” answered Kenrick; “I’ve seen the mist rest on Appenfell for days and days.”
“Besides,” said Power, “unless we move on, at all hazards, night will be on us. ”

“ So Kenrick, vexed and discontented, almost hid himself in those days in his own study, the victim of that most wearing of intolerable and sickening diseases—a sense of shame. Except to play football occasionally, he seldom left his room or took any exercise, and fell into a dispirited, broken way of life, feeling unhappy and alone. He had no associates now except his inferiors, for his conduct had forfeited the regard of his equals, and with many of them he was at open feud. The only pleasure left to him was desperately hard work. ”

“ Mrs Kenrick’s eyes filled with sad tears at the bitter words; but she checked them to greet Walter, who advanced and shook her by the hand so cordially, and with a manner so respectfully affectionate, that he won her heart at once.
“Harry has not yet learned,” she said playfully, “that poverty is not a thing to be ashamed of; but I am sure, Walter—forgive my using the name which my boy has made so familiar to me—that you will not mind any little inconveniences during your short stay with us.”
“Oh, no, Mrs Kenrick,” said Walter; “to be with you and him will be the greatest possible enjoyment.” ”

“ Kenrick, terrible as the tempest, young as the snake of the valley, strong as the mountain of the slain; his armour shining like the stars in the dark night, when the moon is veiled in sable, and the blasting winds howl over the wide plain; his shield like the black rock, prepared himself for war.
Ceolwolf of the high mountain, who viewed the first rays of the morning star, swift as the flying deer, strong as the young oak, fierce as an evening wolf, drew his sword; glittering like the blue vapours in the valley of Horso; terrible as the red lightning, bursting from the dark-brown clouds ”

“ But Kenrick’s eyes were riveted on the letter: it was edged with the deepest black, and bore the Fuzby post-mark. For a time he sat stupidly staring at it: he dared not open it.
At length he made an effort, and tore it open. It was a rude, blurred scrawl from their old servant, telling him that his mother had died the day before. A brief note enclosed in this, from the curate of the place, said, “It is quite true, my poor boy. Your mother died very suddenly of spasms in the heart. God’s ways are not as our ways. I have written to tell your guardian, and he will no doubt meet you here.” ”

“ Kenrick was not in love with Beatrix Harefield, in spite of all those hints and innuendos wherewith Mrs. Dulcimer had artfully striven to kindle the fire of passion in his heart. He was not in love with her, but he admired her beyond any woman he had ever met, and he could but remember that her fortune would give him the desire of his heart. He was above the meanness of marrying for money. He would not have sold himself to a woman he disliked or despised, any more than he would have sold himself to Satan. ”

“ I’ll tell him about it when he’s cooler,” said Whalley.
“As you like, Whalley; Kenrick has no business to suspect me in that shameful way, and to abuse me, and treat me as if I was quite beneath his notice, and cast old faults in my teeth,” answered Walter, with deep vexation. “Let him find out the truth for himself. He can, if he takes the trouble.” ”

“ Dulcimer and their ward went back to Little Yafford on the same day that saw Sir Kenrick’s departure from Southampton in the Peninsular and Oriental steamer. The parting between the betrothed lovers was more serious than sentimental. Beatrix was touched by Kenrick’s devotion, and grateful for his confidence, and there was a grave tenderness in her manner at parting which made him very happy, for it seemed to him the promise of a warmer feeling in the future. ”

“ It was about a week since Sir Kenrick had made his offer and had been rejected. He had taken a wonderful fancy to fishing for pike after that catastrophe, and had brought home some very handsome specimens of that ravenous tribe, for the Vicarage cook to stuff and bake, and serve with savoury sauces for the three o’clock dinner.
‘I think I shall have to protest, like the highland gillies when they got too much salmon, if Kenrick goes on bringing home pike in this way,’ said Mr. Dulcimer, when the cover was lifted and the hungry-jawed scaly monster appeared before him. ”

“ This was Mackworth’s work, and Wilton acted as his Azazel, and Kenrick did not interfere, though he knew or guessed all that was going on; he did not interfere, he did not prevent it, he did not even remonstrate at first, and afterwards he began by acquiescing, he ended by—yes, the truth must be told—he ended in joining in it all. O Kenrick, when human beings meet face to face before a certain judgment-seat, there are some young souls who will have a bill of indictment against you; the same who may point to Mackworth or to Wilton, and say, as of old, “The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat.” ”

“ Yet, if any one could have made happy a home in such a place, it would have been Mrs Kenrick. Never, I think, did a purer, a fairer, a sweeter soul live on earth, or one more like the angels of heaven. The winning grace of her manners, the simple sweetness of her address, the pathetic beauty and sadness of her face, would have won for her, and had won for her, in any other place but Fuzby, the love and admiration which were her due. ”

“ Every one present felt how great must have been the suffering which could wring such an expression of regret from a nature so proud as Kenrick’s. They listened in silence, and when he sat down greeted him with an applause which showed how readily he might win their regard; while many of them came round him and shook hands with warmth.
“Gentlemen,” said Power, rising, “I am sure we all feel that the remarks we have just heard do honour to the speaker. I hold in my hand the monitors’ book, open at the page on which our censure was written. ”

“ It would be just the same as having no one. It will be only for a year, remember, Beatrix. A year hence you will be married, and your own mistress.’
‘If there is no war, and if Kenrick comes home.’
‘We will hope there will be no war. I shall be so proud and happy when I see you established at Culverhouse Castle. It was my idea, you know, long ago, before you or Kenrick dreamed of such a thing. Clement would never have thought of it; but I saw from the very first that you and Kenrick were made for each other.’
Mrs. Dulcimer could not refrain from these little gushes of self-gratulation. ”

“ Kenrick thought of Beatrix Harefield as he walked slowly up and down. How well her stately beauty would become the room! how well the room would become her! She was just the wife for the master of such a place as Culverhouse. It seemed a hard thing that honour forbade his putting himself forward as her suitor.
‘How do I know that she cares for Cyril?’ he asked himself; ‘and if she does not, why should not I have my chance? Cyril is such a close fellow. I don’t know how far things have gone between them. She may not care a straw for him. ”

“ But he would have been very glad to marry a woman with money, provided he could think her the first of women, and worthy to rule in the halls of his race. That he should love her was a secondary necessity. Sir Kenrick was not a young man who considered loving and being beloved essential to the happiness of life. Nature had made him of colder stuff than his cousin Cyril. He could do very well without love, but existence could hardly be tolerable to him without Culverhouse Castle.
He thought of Beatrix Harefield as he paced the long tapestried saloon on the evening of his arrival. ”

“ Kenrick returned to Saint Winifred’s a changed boy; long-continued terror had quite altered the expression of his countenance, but, while this effect soon wore off, the moral effects produced in him were happily permanent. He began a life in earnest; for him there was no more listlessness, or moody fits of sorrow, or bursts of wayward self-indulgence. He became strenuous, diligent, modest, earnest, kind; he too, like Walter and Charlie, began his career “from strength to strength.” ”

“ A December night on Appenfell, without food or extra coverings, and the chance of being kept indefinitely longer—” the sentence ended in a shudder.
“Yes; I don’t know what we should look like in the morning,” said Kenrick. “Let’s move on, at all events; better that than the chance of being frozen and starved to death.”
They moved on again a little way through the clouds with uncertain and hesitating steps, when suddenly Walter cried out in an agitated voice, “Stop! God only knows where we are. I feel by a kind of instinct that we’re somewhere near the rift. ”

“ The conversation of the two boys turned chiefly on the holidays which were just over, and Power was asking Walter about his visit to Kenrick’s house.
“How did you enjoy the visit, Walter?”
“Very much for some things. Mrs Kenrick is the sweetest lady you ever saw.”
“But Ken is always abusing Fuzby—isn’t that the name?”
“Yes; it isn’t a particularly jolly place, certainly, but he doesn’t make the best of it; he makes up his mind to detest it.” ”

“ There was a corrosive malice in this speech so intense that Kenrick never saw Mackworth without recalling the shame and anguish it had caused. Fresh from home, full of quick sensibility, feeling ridicule with great keenness, Kenrick was too much pained by these words even for anger. ”

“ It was not his suspicion, but the evil thoughts of others, that parted us.’
‘Then he is a coward,’ cried Kenrick, honestly angry. ‘A man’s choice of his wife is a question of life or death for himself. He is both craven and fool if he allows other people to be the arbiters of his fate.’
‘But you do not understand,’ urged Beatrix, pleading for the man who had broken her heart. ‘It is his office——’
‘His office be——’
He might have said something very shocking if Mrs. Dulcimer had not come in at this moment. She found Beatrix in tears, and Kenrick pacing up and down the room with a distracted air. ”

“ A single muddy road runs through Fuzby. Except along this road—muddy and rutty in winter, dusty and rutty in summer—no walk is to be had. The fields are all more or less impassable with ditches and bogs. Kenrick had christened it “The Dreary Swamp.” Nothing in the shape of a view is to be found anywhere, and barely a single flower will deign to grow. The air is unhealthy with moisture, and the only element to be had there in perfection is earth.
All this, Kenrick’s father—who had been curate of the village—had fancied would be at least endurable to any man upheld by a strong sense of duty. ”

“ Life had nothing for him beyond or above them. And thus the weeks slipped by till February, and the 10th of February was to be Sir Kenrick’s wedding day. He had improved wonderfully in health by this time. His bent back had straightened itself. He was able to endure the fatigue of a day’s fishing, in the wintry wind and rain. He was [61] altogether a changed man. Yorkshire breezes had done much for him, but happiness had done more.
‘How he loves you!’ cried Mrs. Dulcimer to Beatrix one day, in a rapture of admiration for her protégée. ”

“ Kenrick’s character and career is thus summed up in the “Biographia Dramatica:”—“This author, with singular abilities, was neither happy or successful. Few persons were ever less respected by the world; still fewer have created so many enemies, or dropped into the grave so little regretted by their contemporaries. He was seldom without an enemy to attack or defend himself from.” ”

“ KENRICK or KENDRICK, DANIEL (fl. 1685) , physician and poet, son of Samuel Kenrick of Leigh, Gloucestershire, was born about 1652, and entered as a servitor at Christ Church, Oxford, on 31 March 1666, whence he proceeded B.A. 1669, and M.A. 1674. At the age of thirty-two, when his portrait was engraved by R. White, Kenrick was practising as a doctor at his native town of Worcester, and was much esteemed there as ‘a man of wit and a jolly companion.’ Several poems by ‘Dr. Kenrick’ appear in ‘The Grove, or a Collection of Original Poems, by W. Walsh, Dr. ”