<h2> <SPAN name="XLIV"> </SPAN> CHAPTER XLIV. <br/><br/> <span class="small"> THE MANNER. </span> </h2>
<p>"You see now, Miranda," continued Mr. Sharp, as his wife came and sat
quite close to him, "that it was my duty to make the most of the
knowledge thus providentially obtained. We had met with a bitter
disappointment through the most gross injustice, brought about, no
doubt, by craft, and wheedling, and black falsehood. When old
Fermitage stood godfather to our only child, and showed a sense of
duty towards him by bottling and walling up a pipe of wine, everybody
looked upon Kit as certain to stand in his shoes in the course of
time. You know how we always looked forward to it, not covetously or
improperly, but simply as a matter of justice. And you remember what
he said to me, before he went to church with Joan Oglander: 'Quibbles,
my boy, this shall make no difference between you and me, mind!'</p>
<p>"I am sure that he meant it when he said it; but that artful woman so
led him astray, and laid down the law about wives and husbands, and
'county families,' and all that, and pouring contempt upon our
profession, that all his better feelings left him, and he made the
will he did. And but for her low, unwomanly cowardice during his last
illness, so it would have stood—as she believes it even now to
stand."</p>
<p>"Oh, what a pure delight it will be," cried the lady, unable to help
herself, "such a triumph of right over might and falsehood! Do let me
be there to see it."</p>
<p>"There is time enough to think of that, Miranda. Well, as soon as ever
I felt quite sure of my ground about the codicil (which Senhor
Gelofilos placed in my hands after making inquiry about me here, and
being satisfied of my relationship and respectability), I began to
cast about for the most effectual mode of working it. It was clear in
a moment that the right course was to make a match between Grace, now
the legal heiress, and Kit, the legitimate heir. But here I was met by
difficulties which appeared at first sight insuperable. The pride of
the old Squire, and his family nonsense, the suit of Russel Overshute,
and the girl's own liking for that young fellow (which I had some
reason to suspect), the impossibility of getting at the girl, and last
not least the stupid shyness of our Christopher himself; these and
other obstacles compelled me to knock them all out of the way, by some
decisive action. The girl must be taken out of stupid people's power,
and brought to know what was good for her.</p>
<p>"Of course, I might have cut the matter short by walking the girl off,
and allowing her no food until she consented to marry Kit; and
probably if I could only have foreseen my sad anxieties and heavy
outlay, I should have acted in that way. But I have a natural dislike
to measures that wear an appearance of harshness; and I could not tell
how Kit might take it, or even you, Miranda dear. In this sad puzzle,
some good inspiration brought to my mind Hannah Patch, then living by
herself in London. In a sort of a manner she is my sister (as I have
told you long ago), although she is so many years my elder."</p>
<p>Mrs. Sharp nodded; she knew all about it and admired her husband none
the less for being the illegitimate son of the fashionable Captain
Patch.</p>
<p>"Very well," this admirable man resumed, "you are aware that Hannah
looked very coldly upon me, and spoke of me always as 'that child of
sin,' until I was enabled to marry you, my dear, through your
disinterested affection, which is my choicest treasure. Having won
that, and another more lucrative (but less delightful) partnership, I
became to sweet Hannah the child of love, and was immediately allowed
the privilege of doing all her legal business gratis. You have often
grumbled at that, but I had some knowledge of what I was about, my
dear, and I soon obtained that due influence over her which all women
ought to have some man to wield. Setting aside her present use, Hannah
Patch has £200 a year of her own, which might be much better invested,
and shall be, as soon as it comes to us; but it would not do to have
her too set up herself."</p>
<p>"Oh Luke, what a large-minded dear you are!" whispered Mrs. Sharp,
with much enthusiasm; "I do believe nothing escapes you, and nothing
that gets into your hand ever does get out again!"</p>
<p>"Well, I am pretty well for that," he answered, looking at his large,
strong palm; "I began with my hands pretty empty, God knows, and only
my own brain to fill them. But perseverance, integrity, and readiness
to oblige, have brought me on; and above all things, Miranda, the
grace that I found in your kind eyes."</p>
<p>The kind and still pretty eyes looked prettier, and almost young, with
the gleam of tears; while the owner of all this integrity proved that
it had stood him in good stead, by drawing from his pocket, and
spreading on his head, a handkerchief which had cost him yesterday
fourteen and sixpence, in Holborn, ready hemmed.</p>
<p>"Yes," he continued with a very honest smile; "you see me as I am, my
dear; and there are many poor people in the world worse off. Still it
would never do for me to stop. One must be either backward or forward,
always; and I prefer to be forward. And I hope to make a great step
now. But there must be no hesitation. Well, to go on with my story, I
saw how useful Miss Patch might be to us. She has strong religious
views, which always make it so easy to guide any one aright, by giving
the proper turn to things. Pugnacious dread of Popery, and valiant
terror of the Jesuits, are the leading-strings of her poor old mind. I
got firm hold of both of these, and being trustee of her money also, I
found her quite ready to do good deeds.</p>
<p>"I allowed her to perceive that if things went on, without our
interference, Grace Oglander would be married, and her enormous
fortune sacrificed, to a man whose bosom friend is a Jesuit, a fierce
wolf in sheep's clothing—an uncommonly clever fellow by the bye—a
very young tutor of Brasenose. She had heard of him; for his name is
well known among the leaders of this new sect, who call themselves
Anglo-Catholics, and will end by being Roman Catholics. Of these good
men (according to their lights) Hannah Patch has even deeper terror
than of downright Jesuits. Naturally such stuff matters not to me;
except when I can work it."</p>
<p>"Hannah Patch also had a special grudge against old Squire Oglander, a
man very well in his way, and very honest, who thinks a great deal of
his own opinions, and is fit to be his own grandfather. He had no love
at all for the Patch connection—the patch on the family, as he called
it—and the marriage of his stepmother with Captain Patch, and the
Captain's patronising air towards him—in a word, Miranda, he hated
them all.</p>
<p>"However, when Hannah was in trouble once or twice, and without a roof
to shelter her—before she got her present bit of cash—old Oglander
had her down, and was very good, and tried to like her. He put his
child under her care to learn 'theology,' as she called it, and he
paid her well for teaching her the Psalms, and the other
denunciations. They went away together to some very lonely place;
while the Squire was a week or two away from home. And now it occurred
to me that this experience might be repeated, and prolonged if
needful. Oglander had been nervous, as I knew, and as his daughter
also knew, about some form of black fever or something, which had been
killing some gipsy people, and was likely to come into the villages. I
made use of this fact, with Hannah Patch to help me, and quietly took
my young heiress off to a snug little home in the thick of the woods,
where I should be sorry to reside myself. She was under the holy wing
of Miss Patch; and there she abides to this present day; and I feed
them very well, I assure you. They cost me four pound ten a week; for
the evangelical Hannah believes it to be the clearest 'mark of the
beast' to eat meat less than twice a day; and Leviticus Cripps, who
supplies all the victuals, is making a fortune out of me. No bigger
rogue ever lived than that fellow. He is under my thumb so entirely
that if I told him to roll in the mud he would roll. And yet with all
his awe of me, he cannot forbear from cheating me. He has found out a
manner of dipping his pork so that he turns it into beef or mutton,
according to the orders from the cottage; and he charges me butcher's
price for it, and cartage for six miles and a half, and a penny a
pound for trimming off the flanks!"</p>
<p>"My dear!" said Mrs. Sharp, "it is impossible! He never could deceive a
woman so, however devoted her mind might be. The grain of the meat is
quite different, and the formation of the bones not at all alike; and
directly it began to roast——"</p>
<p>"Well, never mind, Miranda, there they are quite reconciled to the
situation; except that Hannah Patch is always hankering after 'the
means of grace,' and the young girl mooning about her sweet old parent
and beloved Beckley. Sometimes there are very fine scenes between
them; but upon the whole they get on well together, and appreciate one
another's virtues. And I heartily trust that the merits of our Kit
have made their impression on a sensitive young heart. They took to
one another quite kindly in the romance of the situation, when I
brought their sweet innocence into contact by a very simple stratagem.
The dear young creatures have believed themselves to be outwitting
everybody; the very thing I laboured for them both to do. All's well
that ends well—don't you think, Miranda?"</p>
<p>"I am so entirely lost—I mean I am so unable to think it all out,
without more time being given me," Mrs. Sharp answered, while she
passed her hand across her unwrinkled forehead, and into her generally
consulted curl, "that really, Luke, for the moment I can only admire
your audacity. But I think, dear, that in a matter of this kind—an
especially feminine province, I may say—you might have done me the
honour of consulting me."</p>
<p>"Miranda, it was not to be thought of. Your health and well-being are
the dearest objects of my life. I will only ask, could you have borne
the suspense, and the worry, and anxiety of the last four months;
above all, the necessity for silence?"</p>
<p>"Yes, Luke, I could have been very silent; but I cannot abide anxiety.
You call me a dear fat soul sometimes, and your judgment is always
correct, my dear. At the same time, I have little views of my own, and
sensible ways of regarding things. You would like to hear my opinion,
Luke, and to answer me one or two questions?"</p>
<p>"Certainly, Miranda; beyond all doubt. For what other purpose do I
tell you all? Now, let me have a nap for five minutes, my dear, while
you ponder this subject and arrange your questions."</p>
<p>He threw his smart handkerchief over his head, stretched out his feet,
and took a nice little doze.</p>
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