Little Lord Fauntleroy (4 page)

“I am afraid you did not quite understand me,” he explained. “When I said ‘ancient lineage' I did not mean old age; I meant that the name of such a family has been known in the world a long time; perhaps for hundreds of years persons bearing that name have been known and spoken of in the history of their country.”

“Like George Washington,” said Ceddie. “I've heard of him ever since I was born, and he was known about long before that. Mr. Hobbs says he will never be forgotten. That's because of the Declaration of Independence, you know, and the Fourth of July. You see, he was a very brave man.”

“The first Earl of Dorincourt,” said Mr. Havisham solemnly, “was created an earl four hundred years ago.”

“Well, well!” said Ceddie. “That was a long time ago! Did you tell Dearest that? It would in'trust her very much. We'll tell her when she comes in. She always likes to hear cur'us things. What else does an earl do besides being created?”

“A great many of them have helped to govern England. Some of them have been brave men and have fought in great battles in the old days.”

“I should like to do that myself,” said Cedric. “My papa was a soldier, and he was a very brave man—as brave as George Washington. Perhaps that was because he would have been an earl if he hadn't died. I am glad earls are brave. That's a great 'vantage—to be a brave man. Once I used to be rather afraid of things—in the dark, you know; but when I thought about the soldiers in the Revolution and George Washington—it cured me.”

“There is another advantage in being an earl sometimes,” said Mr. Havisham slowly, and he fixed his shrewd eyes on the little boy with a rather curious expression. “Some earls have a great deal of money.”

He was curious because he wondered if his young friend knew what the power of money was.

“That's a good thing to have,” said Ceddie innocently. “I wish I had a great deal of money.”

“Do you?” said Mr. Havisham. “And why?”

“Well,” explained Cedric, “there are so many things a person can do with money. You see, there's the apple-woman. If I were very rich I should buy her a little tent to put her stall in, and a little stove, and then I should give her a dollar every morning it rained, so that she could afford to stay at home. And then—oh! I'd give her a shawl. And, you see, her bones wouldn't feel so badly. Her bones are not like our bones, they hurt her when she moves. It's very painful when your bones hurt you. If I were rich enough to do all those things for her I guess her bones would be all right.”

“Ahem!” said Mr. Havisham. “And what else would you do if you were rich?”

“Oh! I'd do a great many things. Of course I should buy Dearest all sorts of beautiful things, needle-books and fans and gold thimbles and rings, and an encyclopedia, and a carriage, so that she needn't have to wait for the street-cars. If she liked pink silk dresses, I should buy her some, but she likes black best. But I'd take her to the big stores, and tell her to look ‘round and choose for herself. And then Dick—”

“Who is Dick?” asked Mr. Havisham.

“Dick is a boot-black,” said his young lordship, quite warming up in his interest in plans so exciting. “He is one of the nicest boot-blacks you ever knew. He stands at the corner of a street down town. I've known him for years. Once when I was very little, I was walking out with Dearest and she bought me a beautiful ball that bounced, and I was carrying it and it bounced into the middle of the street where the carriages and horses were, and I was so disappointed I began to cry—I was very little. I had kilts on, and Dick was blacking a man's shoes, and he said ‘Hello!' and he ran in between the horses and caught the ball for me and wiped it off with his coat and gave it to me and said: ‘It's all right, young un.' So Dearest admired him very much, and so did I, and ever since then, when we go down town, we talk to him. He says ‘Hello!' and I say ‘Hello!' and then we talk a little, and he tells me how trade is. It's been bad lately.”

“And what would you like to do for him?” inquired the lawyer, rubbing his chin and smiling a queer smile.

“Well,” said Lord Fauntleroy, settling himself in his chair with a business air, “I'd buy Jake out.”

“And who is Jake?” Mr. Havisham asked.

“He's Dick's partner, and he is the worst partner a fellow could have! Dick says so. He isn't a credit to the business, and he isn't square. He cheats, and that makes Dick mad. It would make you mad, you know, if you were blacking boots as hard as you could, and being square all the time, and your partner wasn't square at all. People like Dick, but they don't like Jake, and so sometimes they don't come twice. So if I were rich, I'd buy Jake out and get Dick a ‘boss' sign—he says a ‘boss' sign goes a long way; and I'd get him some new clothes and new brushes, and start him out fair. He says all he wants is to start out fair.”

There could have been nothing more confiding and innocent than the way in which his small lordship told his little story, quoting his friend Dick's bits of slang in the most candid good faith. He seemed to feel not a shade of a doubt that his elderly companion would be just as interested as he was himself. And in truth Mr. Havisham was beginning to be greatly interested; but perhaps not quite so much in Dick and the apple-woman as in this kind little lordling, whose curly head was so busy, under its yellow thatch, with good-natured plans for his friends, and who seemed somehow to have forgotten himself altogether.

“Is there anything—” he began. “What would you get for yourself if you were rich?”

“Lots of things!” answered Lord Fauntleroy briskly; “but first I'd give Mary some money for Bridget—that's her sister, with twelve children and a husband out of work. She comes here and cries, and Dearest gives her things in a basket, and then she cries again, and says: ‘Blessin's be on yez, for a beautiful lady.' And I think Mr. Hobbs would like a gold watch and chain to remember me by, and a meerschaum pipe. And then I'd like to get up a company.”

“A company!” exclaimed Mr. Havisham.

“Like a Republican rally,” explained Cedric, becoming quite excited. “I'd have torches and uniforms and things for all the boys, and myself too. And we'd march, you know, and drill. That's what I should like for myself, if I were rich.”

The door opened and Mrs. Errol came in.

“I am sorry to have been obliged to leave you so long,” she said to Mr. Havisham; “but a poor woman, who is in great trouble, came to see me.”

“This young gentleman,” said Mr. Havisham, “has been telling me about some of his friends, and what he would do for them if he were rich.”

“Bridget is one of his friends,” said Mrs. Errol; “and it is Bridget to whom I have been talking in the kitchen. She is in great trouble now because her husband has rheumatic fever.”

Cedric slipped down out of his big chair.

“I think I'll go and see her,” he said, “and ask her how he is. He's a nice man when he is well. I'm obliged to him because he once made me a sword out of wood. He's a very talented man.”

He ran out of the room, and Mr. Havisham rose from his chair. He seemed to have something in his mind which he wished to speak of. He hesitated a moment, and then said, looking down at Mrs. Errol:

“Before I left Dorincourt Castle, I had an interview with the Earl, in which he gave me some instructions. He is desirous that his grandson should look forward with some pleasure to his future life in England, and also to his acquaintance with himself. He said that I must let his lordship know that the change in his life would bring him money and the pleasures children enjoy; if he expressed any wishes I was to gratify them, and to tell him that his grandfather had given him what he wished. I am aware that the Earl did not expect anything quite like this; but if it would give Lord Fauntleroy pleasure to assist this poor woman, I should feel that the Earl would be displeased if he were not gratified.”

For the second time he did not repeat the Earl's exact words. His lordship had indeed said:

“Make the lad understand that I can give him anything he wants. Let him know what it is to be the grandson of the Earl of Dorincourt. Buy him everything he takes a fancy to; let him have money in his pockets, and tell him his grandfather put it there.”

His motives were far from being good, and if he had been dealing with a nature less affectionate and warm-hearted than little Lord Fauntleroy's, great harm might have been done. And Cedric's mother was too gentle to suspect any harm. She thought that perhaps this meant that a lonely, unhappy old man, whose children were dead, wished to be kind to her little boy, and win his love and confidence. And it pleased her very much to think that Ceddie would be able to help Bridget. It made her happier to know that the very first result of the strange fortune which had befallen her little boy was that he could do kind things for those who needed kindness. Quite a warm color bloomed on her pretty young face.

“Oh,” she said, “that was very kind of the Earl; Cedric will be so glad! He has always been fond of Bridget and Michael. They are quite deserving. I have often wished I had been able to help them more. Michael is a hardworking man when he is well, but he has been ill a long time and needs expensive medicines and warm clothing and nourishing food. He and Bridget will not be wasteful of what is given them.”

Mr. Havisham put his thin hand in his breast pocket and drew forth a large pocket-book. There was a queer look in his keen face. The truth was he was wondering what the Earl of Dorincourt would say when he was told what was the first wish of his grandson that had been granted. He wondered what the cross, worldly, selfish old nobleman would think of it.

“I do not know that you have realized,” he said, “that the Earl of Dorincourt is an exceedingly rich man. He can afford to gratify any caprice. I think it would please him to know that Lord Fauntleroy had been indulged in any fancy. If you will call him back and allow me, I shall give him five pounds for these people.”

“That would be twenty-five dollars!” exclaimed Mrs. Errol. “It will seem like wealth to them. I can scarcely believe that it is true.”

“It is quite true,” said Mr. Havisham with his dry smile. “A great change has taken place in your son's life, a great deal of power will lie in his hands.”

“Oh,” cried his mother. “And he is such a little boy—a very little boy. How can I teach him to use it well? It makes me half afraid. My pretty little Ceddie!”

The lawyer slightly cleared his throat. It touched his worldly, hard old heart to see the tender, timid look in her brown eyes.

“I think, madam,” he said, “that if I may judge from my interview with Lord Fauntleroy this morning, the next Earl of Dorincourt will think for others as well as for his noble self. He is only a child yet, but I think he may be trusted.”

Then his mother went for Cedric and brought him back into the parlor. Mr. Havisham heard him talking before he entered the room.

“It's infam-natory rheumatism,” he was saying, “and that's a kind of rheumatism that's dreadful. And he thinks about the rent not being paid, and Bridget says that makes the inf'ammation worse. And Pat could get a place in a store if he had some clothes.”

His little face looked quite anxious when he came in. He was very sorry for Bridget.

“Dearest said you wanted me,” he said to Mr. Havisham. “I've been talking to Bridget.”

Mr. Havisham looked down at him a moment. He felt a little awkward and undecided. As Cedric's mother had said, he was a very little boy.

“The Earl of Dorincourt—” he began, and then he glanced involuntarily at Mrs. Errol.

Little Lord Fauntleroy's mother suddenly kneeled down by him and put both her tender arms around his childish body.

“Ceddie,” she said, “the Earl is your grandpapa, your own papa's father. He is very, very kind, and he loves you and wishes you to love him, because the sons who were his little boys are dead. He wishes you to be happy and to make other people happy. He is very rich, and he wishes you to have everything you would like to have. He told Mr. Havisham so, and gave him a great deal of money for you. You can give some to Bridget now; enough to pay her rent and buy Michael everything. Isn't that fine, Ceddie? Isn't he good?” And she kissed the child on his round cheek, where the bright color suddenly flashed up in his excited amazement.

He looked from his mother to Mr. Havisham.

“Can I have it now?” he cried. “Can I give it to her this minute? She's just going.”

Mr. Havisham handed him the money. It was in fresh, clean greenbacks and made a neat roll.

Ceddie flew out of the room.

“Bridget!” they heard him shout, as he tore into the kitchen. “Bridget, wait a minute! Here's some money. It's for you, and you can pay the rent. My grandpapa gave it to me. It's for you and Michael!”

“Oh, Master Ceddie!” cried Bridget, in an awe-stricken voice. “It's twenty-foive dollars is here. Where be's the misthress?”

“I think I shall have to go and explain it to her,” Mrs. Errol said.

So she too went out of the room and Mr. Havisham was left alone for a while. He went to the window and stood looking out into the street reflectively. He was thinking of the old Earl of Dorincourt, sitting in his great, splendid gloomy library at the castle, gouty and lonely, surrounded by grandeur and luxury, but not really loved by anyone, because in all his long life he had never really loved anyone but himself; he had been selfish and self-indulgent, and arrogant and passionate; he had cared so much for the Earl of Dorincourt and his pleasures that there had been no time for him to think of other people; all his wealth and power, all the benefits from his noble name and high rank, had seemed to him to be things only to be used to amuse and give pleasure to the Earl of Dorincourt; and now that he was an old man, all this excitement and self-indulgence had only brought him ill health and irritability and a dislike of the world, which certainly disliked him. In spite of all his splendor, there was never a more unpopular old nobleman than the Earl of Dorincourt, and there could scarcely have been a more lonely one. He could fill his castle with guests if he chose. He could give great dinners and splendid hunting parties; but he knew that in secret the people who would accept his invitations were afraid of his frowning old face and sarcastic, biting speeches. He had a cruel tongue and a bitter nature, and he took pleasure in sneering at people and making them feel uncomfortable, when he had the power to do so, because they were sensitive or proud or timid.