Margaret Oliphant - The Days of My Life: An Autobiography

I was going home from the village, and it was an autumn evening, justafter sunset, when every crop was cut and housed in our level country,and when the fields of stubble and browned grass had nothing on them,except here and there, a tree. They say our bare flats, inCambridgeshire, are neither picturesque, nor beautiful. I cannot say forthatbut I know no landscape has ever caught my eye like the long lineof sunburnt, wiry grass, and the great, wide arch above, with all itsshades of beautiful color. There were no hedgerows to skirt the path onwhich I was, and I saw nothing between me and the sky, save a solitaryfigure stalking along the highway, and in the other direction the clumpof trees which surrounded Cottiswoode; the sky, in the west, was stillfull of the colors of the sunset, and from the horizon it rose upward ina multitude of tints and shades, the orange and red melting into a rosyflush which contrasted for a while, and then fell into the sweet, calm,peaceful tone of the full blue. In the time of the year, and the look ofthe night, there was alike that indescribable composure and satisfactionwhich are in the sunny evenings after harvest; the work was done, theday was fading, everything was going home; the rooks sailed over thesky, and the laborer trudged across the moor. Labor was over, andprovision made, and the evening and the night, peace and refreshment,and rest were coming for every man. I do not suppose I noticed this atthe time, but I have the strongest impression of it all in myremembrance now.

And I was passing along, as I always did, quickly and, perhaps, with afirmer and a steadier step than was usual to girls of my years, swingingin my hand a bit of briony, which, for the sake of its beautifulberries, I was carrying home, but which stood a good chance of beingdestroyed before we got therenot taking leisure to look much about me,thinking of nothing particular, with a little air of the superior, thelady of the manor, in my independent carriagea little pride ofproprietorship in my firm footstep.

I was going homewhen there suddenly appeared two figures before me,advancing on my way. I say two figures, because in our countryeverything stands out so clear upon the great universal background ofsky, that I could not so truly say it was a man and a boy, as two darkoutlines, clearly marked and separated from the low, broad level of thecountry, and the arch of heaven, which now approached upon me. I cannothelp an unconscious estimate of character from the tricks of gesture andcarriage, which, perhaps, could not have been so visible anywhere else,as here, upon this flat, unbroken road. One of these figures was astooping and pliant one, with a sort of sinuous twisting motion,noiseless and sidelong, as if his habit was to twist and glide throughways too narrow to admit the passage of a man; the other form was thatof a boya slight figure, which, to my perfect health and girlishcourage, looked timid and hesitating; the brightness of the sky behindcast the faces of the strangers into shadowbut my eye was caught bythe unfamiliar outlines; they were strangers, that was sure.

We gradually approached nearer, for I was walking quickly, though theirpace was slow; but before we met my thoughts had wandered off from them,and I was greatly astonished by the sudden address which brought me toan abrupt pause before them. "Young lady," the man said, with anawkward bow, "what is your name?"

I was a country girl, and utterly beyond the reach of fear fromimpertinence. I was my father's daughter, moreover, and loftilypersuaded that nothing disrespectful could approach me. I answeredimmediately with a little scorn of the questionfor to be unknown in myown country was a new sensation"I am Hester Southcote, ofCottiswoode," and having said so, was about to pass on.

"Ah, indeed! it is just as I thought, then," said the stranger, wheelinghis young companion round, so as to place him side by side with me. "Weare going back to Cottiswoodewe will have the pleasure of yourcompany; I am quite happy we have met."

But my girlish disdain did not annihilate the bold intruder; it onlybrought a disagreeable smile to his mouth which made him look still morelike some dangerous unknown animal to me. I was not very well versed insociety, nor much acquainted with the world, but I knew by intuitionthat this person, though quite as well dressed as any one I had everseen, was not a gentleman; he was one of those nondescripts whom youcould not respect either for wealth or povertyone of those few peopleyou could be disrespectful to, without blushing for yourself.

"Do you want any thing at Cottiswoode?" I asked accordingly, not at allendeavoring to conceal that I thought my new companion a very unsuitablevisitor at my father's house.

"Yes! we want a great deal at Cottiswoode," said the stranger,significantly; and as I raised my head in wonder and indignation, Icould not but observe how the boy lagged behind, and how his companionconstantly attempted to drag him forward close to me.

With an impatient impulse, I gathered up the folds of my dress in myhand and drew another step apart. I was the only child of a haughtygentleman. I did not know what it was to be addressed in the tone of asuperior, and I was fully more annoyed than angrybut with a younggirl's grand and innocent assumption, I held my head higher. "You arenot aware whom you are speaking to," I said, proudly; but I was verymuch confused and disconcerted when the stranger answered me by alaughand the laugh was still less pleasant than the smile, for therewas irritation mingled with its sneer.

"I am perfectly aware whom I am speaking to, Miss," he said, rather morecoarsely than he had yet spoken; "better aware than the young lady iswho tells me so, or than my lord himself among the trees yonder," and hepointed at Cottiswoode, to which we were drawing near. "But you willfind it best to be friends," he continued, after a moment, in a toneintended to be light and easy, "look what I have brought youhere'sthis pretty young gentleman is your cousin."

"My cousin!" I said, with great astonishment, "I have no cousin."

"Oh, no! I dare say!" said the man, with such a sneer of insinuation,that in my childish passion I could have struck him, almost. "I'd disownhim, out and out, if I were you."

"What do you mean, sir?" I said, stopping short and turning round uponhim; then my eye caught the face of the boy, which was naturally pale,but now greatly flushed with shame and anger, as I thought; he lookedshrinking, and timid, and weak, with his delicate blue-veined temples,his long, fair hair, and refined mild face. I felt myself so strong, sosunburnt, so ruddy, and with such a strength and wealth of life, inpresence of this delicate and hesitating boy. "What does he mean," Irepeated, addressing him, "does he mean that I say what is not true?"