[Literature] Charles Dickens: The Village Coquettes - There Are Dark Shadows on the #9/21
As the suspicions of the family are aroused, no time is to be lost: the girl must be carried off to-night, if possible. With Flam’s assistance and management, she may be speedily removed from within the reach of these rustic sparks. In my cooler moments, the reflection of the misery I may inflict upon the old man makes my conduct appear base and dishonourable, even to myself. Pshaw! hundreds have done the same thing before me, who have been lauded and blazoned forth as men of honour. Honour in such cases,—an idle tale!—a by-word! Honour! There is much to be gleaned from old tales; and the legend of the child and the old man speaks but too truly.
Song.—SQUIRE NORTON.
The child and the old man sat alone
In the quiet peaceful shade
Of the old green boughs, that had richly grown
In the deep thick forest glade.
It was a soft and pleasant sound,
That rustling of the oak;
And the gentle breeze play’d lightly round,
As thus the fair boy spoke:—
‘Dear father, what can honour be,
Of which I hear men rave?
Field, cell and cloister, land and sea,
The tempest and the grave:—
It lives in all, ’tis sought in each,
’Tis never heard or seen:
Now tell me, father, I beseech,
What can this honour mean?’
‘It is a name,—a name, my child,—
It lived in other days,
When men were rude, their passions wild,
Their sport, thick battle-frays.
When in armour bright, the warrior bold,
Knelt to his lady’s eyes:
Beneath the abbey-pavement old
That warrior’s dust now lies.
‘The iron hearts of that old day
Have moulder’d in the grave;
And chivalry has pass’d away,
With knights so true and brave;
The honour, which to them was life,
Throbs in no bosom now;
It only gilds the gambler’s strife,
Or decks the worthless vow.’
Enter LUCY.
SQUIRE. Lucy, dear Lucy.
LUCY. Let me entreat you not to stay here, sir! you will be exposed to nothing but insult and attack. Edmunds and my brother have both returned, irritated at something that has passed with my cousin Rose:—for my sake,—for my sake, Mr. Norton, spare me the pain of witnessing what will ensue, if they find you here. You little know what I have borne already.
SQUIRE. For your sake, Lucy, I would do much; but why should I leave you to encounter the passion and ill-will, from which you would have me fly?
LUCY. Oh, I can bear it, sir; I deserve it but too well.
SQUIRE. Deserve it!—you do yourself an injustice, Lucy. No; rather let me remove you from a house where you will suffer nothing but persecution, and confer upon you a title which the proudest lady in the land might wear. Here—here, on my knees (he bends on his knee, and seizes her hand.)
Enter FLAM.
SQUIRE (rising). Flam here!
FLAM (aside). Upon my word!—I thought we had been getting on pretty well in the open air, but they’re beating us hollow here, under cover.
SQUIRE. Lucy, but one word, and I understand your decision.
LUCY. I—I—cannot subdue the feelings of uneasiness and distrust which the great difference between your honour’s rank and mine awakens in my mind.
SQUIRE. Difference! Hundreds of such cases happen every day!
LUCY. Indeed!
SQUIRE. Oh, ’tis a matter of general notoriety,—isn’t it, Flam?
FLAM. No doubt of it. (Aside.) Don’t exactly know yet what they are talking about, though.
SQUIRE. A relation of my own, a man of exalted rank, courted a girl far his inferior in station but only beneath him in that respect. In all others she was on a footing of equality with himself, if not far above him.
LUCY. And were they married?
FLAM (aside). Rather an important circumstance in the case. I do remember that.
SQUIRE. They were,—after a time, when the resentment of his friends, occasioned by his forming such an attachment, had subsided, and he was able to acknowledge her, without involving the ruin of both.
LUCY. They were married privately at first, then?
FLAM (aside). I must put in a word here. Oh, yes, it was all comfortably arranged to everybody’s satisfaction,—wasn’t it, Norton?
SQUIRE. Certainly. And a happy couple they were, weren’t they, Flam?
FLAM. Happiest of the happy. As happy as (aside)—a separation could make them.
SQUIRE. Hundreds of great people have formed similar attachments,—haven’t they, Flam?
FLAM. Undoubtedly. There was the Right Honourable Augustus Frederick Charles Thomson Camharado, and the German Baron Hyfenstyfenlooberhausen, and they were both married—(aside) to somebody else, first. Not to mention Damask and I, who are models of constancy.