|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 39
After changing at Ipswich, a little local train deposited me at
a small, deserted station lying amidst a rolling grassy country,
with a sluggish and winding river curving in and out amidst the
valleys, between high, silted banks, which showed that we were
within reach of the tide. No carriage was awaiting me (I found
afterwards that my telegram had been delayed), so I hired a dogcart
at the local inn. The driver, an excellent fellow, was full of my
relative's praises, and I learned from him that Mr. Everard King
was already a name to conjure with in that part of the county. He
had entertained the school-children, he had thrown his grounds open
to visitors, he had subscribed to charities--in short, his
benevolence had been so universal that my driver could only account
for it on the supposition that he had parliamentary ambitions.
My attention was drawn away from my driver's panegyric by the
appearance of a very beautiful bird which settled on a telegraph-
post beside the road. At first I thought that it was a jay, but it
was larger, with a brighter plumage. The driver accounted for its
presence at once by saying that it belonged to the very man whom we
were about to visit. It seems that the acclimatization of foreign
creatures was one of his hobbies, and that he had brought with him
from Brazil a number of birds and beasts which he was endeavouring
to rear in England. When once we had passed the gates of Greylands
Park we had ample evidence of this taste of his. Some small
spotted deer, a curious wild pig known, I believe, as a peccary, a
gorgeously feathered oriole, some sort of armadillo, and a singular
lumbering in-toed beast like a very fat badger, were among the
creatures which I observed as we drove along the winding avenue.
Mr. Everard King, my unknown cousin, was standing in person
upon the steps of his house, for he had seen us in the distance,
and guessed that it was I. His appearance was very homely and
benevolent, short and stout, forty-five years old, perhaps, with a
round, good-humoured face, burned brown with the tropical sun, and
shot with a thousand wrinkles. He wore white linen clothes, in
true planter style, with a cigar between his lips, and a large
Panama hat upon the back of his head. It was such a figure as one
associates with a verandahed bungalow, and it looked curiously out
of place in front of this broad, stone English mansion, with its
solid wings and its Palladio pillars before the doorway.
"My dear!" he cried, glancing over his shoulder; "my dear, here
is our guest! Welcome, welcome to Greylands! I am delighted to
make your acquaintance, Cousin Marshall, and I take it as a great
compliment that you should honour this sleepy little country place
with your presence."
Nothing could be more hearty than his manner, and he set me at
my ease in an instant. But it needed all his cordiality to atone
for the frigidity and even rudeness of his wife, a tall, haggard
woman, who came forward at his summons. She was, I believe, of
Brazilian extraction, though she spoke excellent English, and I
excused her manners on the score of her ignorance of our customs.
She did not attempt to conceal, however, either then or afterwards,
that I was no very welcome visitor at Greylands Court. Her actual
words were, as a rule, courteous, but she was the possessor of a
pair of particularly expressive dark eyes, and I read in them very
clearly from the first that she heartily wished me back in London
once more.
However, my debts were too pressing and my designs upon my
wealthy relative were too vital for me to allow them to be upset by
the ill-temper of his wife, so I disregarded her coldness and
reciprocated the extreme cordiality of his welcome. No pains had
been spared by him to make me comfortable. My room was a charming
one. He implored me to tell him anything which could add to my
happiness. It was on the tip of my tongue to inform him that a
blank cheque would materially help towards that end, but I felt
that it might be premature in the present state of our
acquaintance. The dinner was excellent, and as we sat together
afterwards over his Havanas and coffee, which later he told me was
specially prepared upon his own plantation, it seemed to me that
all my driver's eulogies were justified, and that I had never met
a more large-hearted and hospitable man.
But, in spite of his cheery good nature, he was a man with a
strong will and a fiery temper of his own. Of this I had an
example upon the following morning. The curious aversion which
Mrs. Everard King had conceived towards me was so strong, that her
manner at breakfast was almost offensive. But her meaning became
unmistakable when her husband had quitted the room.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|