Part 29

‘“And only that grumbler, Bob Harris, remarked that we stood one to ten: ‘Ye fool,’ says Mick Grady, ‘just tell ’em they know to compliment men!’ And I sang out your old words: ‘If the opposite side isn’t God’s, Heigh! after you’ve counted a dozen, the pluckiest lads have the odds.’ Ping-ping flew the enemies’ pepper: the Colonel roared, Forward, and we Went at them. ’Twas first like a blanket: and then a long plunge in the sea.

XVIII

‘“Well, now about me and the Frenchman: it happened I can’t tell you how: And, Grandfather, hear, if you love me, and put aside prejudice now”: He never says “Grandfather”—Tom don’t—save it’s a serious thing. “Well, there were some pits for the rifles, just dug on our French-leaning wing: And backwards, and forwards, and backwards we went, and at last I was vexed, And swore I would never surrender a foot when the Russians charged next.

XIX

‘“I know that life’s worth keeping.”—Ay, so it is, lad; so it is!— “But my life belongs to a woman.”—Does that mean Her Majesty, Miss?— “These Russians came lumping and grinning: they’re fierce at it, though they are blocks. Our fellows were pretty well pumped, and looked sharp for the little French cocks. Lord, didn’t we pray for their crowing! when over us, on the hill-top, Behold the first line of them skipping, like kangaroos seen on the hop.

‘“That sent me into a passion, to think of them spying our flight!” Heigh, Tom! you’ve Bridgeman blood, boy! And, “‘Face them!’ I shouted: ‘All right; Sure, Serjeant, we’ll take their shot dacent, like gentlemen,’ Grady replied. A ball in his mouth, and the noble old Irishman dropped by my side. Then there was just an instant to save myself, when a short wheeze Of bloody lungs under the smoke, and a red-coat crawled up on his knees.

XXI

‘“’Twas Ensign Baynes of our parish.”—Ah, ah, Miss Charlworth, the one Our Tom fought for a young lady? Come, now we’ve got into the fun!— “I shouldered him: he primed his pistol, and I trailed my musket, prepared.” Why, that’s a fine pick-a-back for ye, to make twenty Russians look scared! “They came—never mind how many: we couldn’t have run very well, We fought back to back: ‘face to face, our last time!’ he said, smiling, and fell.

XXII

‘“Then I strove wild for his body: the beggars saw glittering rings, Which I vowed to send to his mother. I got some hard knocks and sharp stings, But felt them no more than angel, or devil, except in the wind. I know that I swore at a Russian for showing his teeth, and he grinned The harder: quick, as from heaven, a man on a horse rode between, And fired, and swung his bright sabre: I can’t write you more of the scene.

XXIII

‘“But half in his arms, and half at his stirrup, he bore me right forth, And pitched me among my old comrades: before I could tell south from north, He caught my hand up, and kissed it! Don’t ever let any man speak A word against Frenchmen, I near him! I can’t find his name, tho’ I seek. But French, and a General, surely he was, and, God bless him! thro’ him I’ve learnt to love a whole nation.”’ The ancient man paused, winking dim.

XXIV

A curious look, half woeful, was seen on his face as he turned His eyes upon each of his children, like one who but faintly discerned His old self in an old mirror. Then gathering sense in his fist, He sounded it hard on his knee-cap. ‘Your hand, Tom, the French fellow kissed! He kissed my boy’s old pounder! I say he’s a gentleman!’ Straight The letter he tossed to one daughter; bade her the remainder relate.

XXV

Tom properly stated his praises in facts, but the lady preferred To deck the narration with brackets, and drop her additional word. What nobler Christian natures these women could boast, who, ’twas known, Once spat at the name of their nephew, and now made his praises their own! The letter at last was finished, the hearers breathed freely, and sign Was given, ‘Tom’s health!’—Quoth the farmer: ‘Eh, Miss? are you weak in the spine?’

XXVI

For Mary had sunk, and her body was shaking, as if in a fit. Tom’s letter she held, and her thumb-nail the month when the letter was writ Fast-dinted, while she hung sobbing: ‘O, see, Sir, the letter is old! O, do not be too happy!’—‘If I understand you, I’m bowled!’ Said Grandfather Bridgeman, ‘and down go my wickets!—not happy! when here, Here’s Tom like to marry his General’s daughter—or widow—I’ll swear!

XXVII

‘I wager he knows how to strut, too! It’s all on the cards that the Queen Will ask him to Buckingham Palace, to say what he’s done and he’s seen. Victoria’s fond of her soldiers: and she’s got a nose for a fight. If Tom tells a cleverish story—there is such a thing as a knight! And don’t he look roguish and handsome!—To see a girl snivelling there— By George, Miss, it’s clear that you’re jealous’—‘I love him!’ she answered his stare.

XXVIII

‘Yes! now!’ breathed the voice of a woman.—‘Ah! now!’ quiver’d low the reply. ‘And “now”’s just a bit too late, so it’s no use your piping your eye,’ The farmer added bluffly: ‘Old Lawyer Charlworth was rich; You followed his instructions in kicking Tom into the ditch. If you’re such a dutiful daughter, that doesn’t prove Tom is a fool. Forgive and forget’s my motto! and here’s my grog growing cool!’

XXIX

‘But, Sir,’ Mary faintly repeated: ‘for four long weeks I have failed To come and cast on you my burden; such grief for you always prevailed! My heart has so bled for you!’ The old man burst on her speech: ‘You’ve chosen a likely time, Miss! a pretty occasion to preach!’ And was it not outrageous, that now, of all times, one should come With incomprehensible pity! Far better had Mary been dumb.

XXX

But when again she stammered in this bewildering way, The farmer no longer could bear it, and begged her to go, or to stay, But not to be whimpering nonsense at such a time. Pricked by a goad, ’Twas you who sent him to glory:—you’ve come here to reap what you sowed. Is that it?’ he asked; and the silence the elders preserved plainly said, On Mary’s heaving bosom this begging-petition was read.

XXXI

And that it was scarcely a bargain that she who had driven him wild Should share now the fruits of his valour, the women expressed, as they smiled. The family pride of the Bridgemans was comforted; still, with contempt, They looked on a monied damsel of modesty quite so exempt. ‘O give me force to tell them!’ cried Mary, and even as she spoke, A shout and a hush of the children: a vision on all of them broke.