Westwood

“ At that moment an inspector in plain clothes, who had been hastily fetched from Scotland Yard, made his way into the room and inquired what he was wanted for.
"We shall both have to go with you, I think," said Hubert firmly, glancing at Westwood as he rose. "I presume that you cannot liberate Mr. Westwood at once."
"What—Westwood the convict? I should think not!" said the inspector briskly; and he made a sign to his men, who stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs.
"I shall come quietly enough," said Westwood, with a smile. "You needn't trouble yourself about the bracelets." ”

“ But the spirit of the young, unfettered country had got into her soul, and she went her way unmindful of Westwood’s opinions.
For three days she continued her search for tidings of her father, eager and hopeful; and then for the remainder of the week she did her searching mechanically, doggedly, with a presentiment of failure to harass her. ”

“ Then she cried out:
“Ah, God is good—God is good! It is no dream. He is safe—safe! Claude Westwood is alive.”
CHAPTER VII. What were his feelings as he read the telegram which she thrust into his hand—the telegram sent to her by a relative, who lived in London, acquainting her with the fact that an enterprising London paper had in its issue of that morning announced the safe arrival at Uganda of the distinguished explorer, Claude Westwood? “Authority unquestionable,” were the words with which the telegram ended. ”

“ The Rector looked up in mild surprise.
"Why not 'Jane Westwood,' my dear? 'Westwood' is her name."
"She had much better not be known as Westwood's daughter," said Mrs. Rumbold, with decision, quite heedless of Cynthia's presence. "It will be against her all her life. I have told Sister Louisa about her, and she asked me to let her be called 'Wood.' 'Jane Wood' is a nice sensible name."
"Well, as you please. You will not mind being called 'Jane,' will you, my dear?" said the Rector, mindful of the red flush that was creeping into the little pale cheeks. ”

“ Any one who fancies that—that—Oh, my dear Agnes, do you really suppose that Claude Westwood—the man who fought his way from the clutches of those savages—the most terrible in the world—the man who fought his way through the long forest of wild animals, deadly serpents, horrible poisonous unshapely creatures never before seen by the eye of man—and the swamps—a world of miasma, every breath meaning death—do you really suppose that such a man would allow any power to stand between him and the woman whom he loves? ”

“ A puzzled look was on his face.
“Claude Westwood—Claude Westwood?” he said. “But there is no Claude Westwood. Was not Claude Westwood the African explorer killed years ago—it must be nearly ten years ago—when trying to reach the Upper Zambesi?”
“Claude Westwood is the man to whom I have given my promise,” said she in an unshaken voice—the voice of one whose faith remains unshaken. “He is not dead. He is alive and our love lives. Ah, my dear friend”—she put out both her hands frankly to Sir Percival and he took them, tenderly and reverently—“my dear friend, you may think me a fool ”

“ Westwood.”
“Yes, it is always the woman who has to bear the punishment for this sin. I wish I could lighten yours, my poor child.”
“You can, sir, you can!” The girl had begun to sob, and she could not speak for some time. He waited patiently. “I have come to talk to you about that, sir,” she continued, when she was able to speak once more. “Sir Percival Hope's sister has promised to give me a chance, Mr. Westwood; but only if I agree never to see him again.”
“And, of course, you agreed. You are very fortunate, my girl.” ”

“ Perhaps even Cynthia and Hubert Lepel were in the plot. They had perhaps meant him to be caught and sent back to Portland, to die like a wild beast in a cage.
"There'll be murder done first!" said Westwood, looking round him for a weapon. "Let's see which is the strongest—Hubert Lepel or me. And now for the door! The window is too high." ”

“ Let him enjoy his fame for me, nor let me hint a whisper that shall dismount Bellerophon. But in case he was an involuntary martyr, yet if in the fiery conflict he buckled the soul of a constant haberdasher to him, and adopted his flames, let accident and him share the glory. You would all like Thomas Westwood. ”

“ CHAPTER II. For three hours Richard Westwood had been subjected to a severer strain than most men have to submit to in the course of their lives. He was, as has already been stated, the senior partner in the chief banking house of Brackenshire—an old and highly-respected establishment. In fact, there was a time when the stability of the house of Westwood, Westwood, Barwell, & Westwood was regarded as at least equal to that of the county itself. ”

“ I know what manner of man it is that succeeds in the world, and Claude Westwood is not the man to fail. I shall not see him, but you will. Whatever happens, whatever people round you may say, don't relinquish hope for him.”
Those had been her father's words, and she had obeyed their injunction. She had not given up hope, although no one in the neighbourhood ever thought of mentioning the name of Claude Westwood in her hearing. It seemed that the very memory of the man had died out in Brackenhurst. ”

“ I no more knew what I was doing, by this time, nor where we were, than the spar before me,—till again, the light broadened, glimmering low betwixt the high land and a lump of rising level on the other bow. I hurried aft past the confused knots of men holding on to the lee of the bulwarks, and seized a spoke of the wheel. "Tom," shouted I to Westwood, "run and let free the spanker on the poop! Down with the helm—down with it, Jacobs, my lad!" I sang out; "never mind spars or canvass!" ”

“ T. Westwood has passed a retired life in this hamlet of thirty or forty years, living upon the minimum which is consistent with gentility, yet a star among the minor gentry, receiving the bows of the tradespeople and courtesies of the alms-women daily. Children venerate him not less for his external show of gentry than they wonder at him for a gentle rising endorsation of the person, not amounting to a hump, or if a hump, innocuous as the hump of the buffalo, and coronative of as mild qualities. ”

“ Perhaps a dozen people had recognised in Carton Standish the man with whom the Clare Tristram of twenty-two years before had run away, although no one had come forward to state that the man who had been found guilty of the murder of Mr. Westwood was the same person. Agnes knew enough of the world to be well aware of the fact that not only in Brackenshire but in every county in England the question “Who is she?” would be asked, so soon as it became known that Claude Westwood had got married. ”

“ The mate gave a stamp on the deck, and kept her away a little to set a stunsail. "Why," said I to Westwood, "he'll fall to leeward of himself!" "She's too much by the head, [Pg 197] Collins," said Westwood; "that's it!" "Hasn't he the sense to take the fore-course off her?" said I, "instead of packing more on! Why, that craft weathers on us like a schooner—I wish you and I had the Indiaman for an hour or two, Tom!" ”

“ Thus, within three weeks of the tragedy at the Court, the people of Brackenhurst had begun to talk of other matters—during a fortnight no other topic was possible in the town. After Mr. Westwood's death there was no run on the bank: but even if there had been, plenty of gold would have been forthcoming to meet all demands. It was then that the people began to discuss the probability of Mr. Westwood's having died a wealthy man, and the likelihood of his having made a will. They feared that Claude Westwood would not find himself better provided for than he had been at his father's death ”

“ It was impossible to risk driving to Westwood in an open car. He ordered the landaulette, closed.
It was necessary to go because he had Miss Seer’s telegram to deliver. Also the desire was strong upon him for the people of his own little world, those who felt things as he felt them, and saw things even as he saw them. He wanted to talk over the various small happenings of the morning with an understanding spirit; the sweep’s familiarity, Miss Seer’s odd activities, and last, but not least, Mr. Pithey’s hateful facetiousness. ”

“ At this point a fresh visitor was admitted—Sir Percival Hope. He said he was very glad to meet Mr. Westwood that afternoon, the fact being that he had just been at the Court to see Mr. Westwood in order to inquire about his gamekeeper, Ralph Dangan, who had applied to him, Sir Percival, for a situation. He wondered why the man was leaving the Court preserves.
“The man seems to me to be a very foolish fellow,” said Claude. ”

“ WESTWOOD, THOMAS (1814–1888) , minor poet and bibliographer of angling, was the son of the Thomas Westwood of Enfield so vividly portrayed by Charles Lamb in several letters bearing date 1829–1830. ‘Father (‘Daddy’ or more familiarly ‘Gaffer’) Westwood,’ as Lamb calls him, was formerly a rider or traveller for a wholesale drapery house, then a thriving haberdasher within the sound of Bow Bells, who retired with something under a competence before the beginning of the French war at the close of the eighteenth century, and settled at Enfield, of which place he became a patriarch. ”

“ Everything he said to me helped to strengthen my hope. You have heard how attached he and Claude were?”
Sir Percival, seeing how excited she had become—how she alternated between the extremes of hope and fear, dissuaded her from her intention of going to the Court at once.
“You must have some rest,” he said. “The strain of going to the Court would be too much for you. You must not run the chance of breaking down when you need most to be strong. You will let me do this for you. I will see Westwood myself, whether he is at the Court or at the bank, and bring him to you.” ”

“ There was a look in his eye that I did not like,” said Cyril.
“A man is not dangerous because of a look in his eye, but rather because of a revolver in his hand; and you saw that that poor fool was more afraid of it than I was,” said Westwood. “Oh, he's a poor sort of fellow after all. No man shows up worse than one who tries to be threatening in a heroic way. He sinks into the mountebank in a moment. He'll be all right in the morning when he handles his money—assuming that he will draw out his balance, which is doubtful. Most likely he will have recovered from his panic, and will apologize. ”

“ I sprang to the fore-braces and besought the men near me, for God's sake, to drag upon the lee one—and that as if their life hung upon it—when Westwood caught me by the arm. I merely shouted through my hands into his ear to go aft to Jacobs and tell him to keep her head a single point up, whatever might happen, to the last,—then I pulled with the men at the brace till it was fast, and scrambled up again to the bowsprit heel. Jove! how she surged to it: the little canvass we had strained like to burst ”

“ However, on second thoughts, the notion struck me, that, by sticking to the name, as I must do now at any rate, why, I should keep Westwood clear of all scrapes, which, in his case, might be disagreeable enough; whereas, at present, he was known only as the Reverend Mr Thomas—and, as for his either shamming the griffin, or giving hints how to work the ship, he was one of those men you'd scarce know for a sailor, by aught in his manner, at least; and, indeed, Tom Westwood always seemed to need a whole frigate's ways about him, with perhaps 729 somewhat of a stir, to show what he really was. ”

“ While Maud she flouts, and Bell she pouts, They scamper and drop their posies; But dear little Kate takes naught amiss, And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss, And I give her all my roses. Thomas Westwood [1814?-1888] LITTLE BELL He prayeth well who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. The Ancient Mariner Piped the blackbird on the beechwood spray "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way, What's your name?" quoth he— "What's your name? Oh stop and straight unfold, Pretty maid with showery curls of gold,"— "Little Bell," said she. ”

“ Vane would let the police know. That gives us till about eleven or twelve o'clock."
"Two hours' start. Is not that sufficient?"
Westwood shook his head.
"The first thing they will do is to telegraph to all the ports."
"But you look so different now, father! And I can make myself look quite different too."
"You! Why, you don't suppose I am going to let you come with me?"
"Oh, yes, father dear, I cannot leave you now!"
"It would be madness, Cynthia. You are well known, and you would be too easily recognised. Everybody turns to look at a handsome girl like you." ”

“ She looked twenty years older than she is, even assuming that the estimate of her age made by the women in our neighbourhood is correct.”
“Yes, I was always interested in observing my fellow-men,” said Mr. Westwood musingly. “I noticed those women to-day. They were worth it. Women always give themselves away upon such an occasion. Men seldom do.”
“By George, Dick, there were some men in the crowd that filled the bank to-day who gave themselves away quite as badly as the women!” said Cyril. ”

“ Andrew Westwood's little girl was still sitting on the chair where she had been placed, her [Pg 48] hands crossed before her on her lap, her bare feet swinging idly to and fro, her dark eyes fixed vaguely on the trees and shrubs of the Rectory garden, which she could see from the hall window. Hubert paused beside her and spoke.
"I am going to leave you with this lady—Mrs. Rumbold," he said. "You know her already, and know that she will be kind to you. You are to go to a good school, where I hope that you will be happy." ”