Little Lord Fauntleroy

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‘Who is Dick?’ asked Mr Havisham.

‘Dick is a boot-black,’ said his young lordship, quite warming up in his interest in plans so exciting. ‘He is one of the nicest boot-blacks you ever knew. He stands at the corner of a street down town. I’ve known him for years. Once when I was very little I was walking out with Dearest and she bought me a beautiful ball that bounced, and I was carrying it and it bounced into the middle of the street where the carriages and horses were, and I was so disappointed I began to cry – I was very little. I had kilts on, and Dick was blacking a man’s shoes, and he said “Hallo!” and he ran in between the horses and caught the ball for me and wiped it off with his coat and gave it to me and said: “It’s all right, young ’un.” So Dearest admired him very much, and so did I, and ever since then, when we go down town, we talk to him. He says “Hallo!” and I say “Hallo!” and then we talk a little, and he tells me how trade is. It’s been bad lately.’

‘And what would you like to do for him?’ inquired the lawyer, rubbing his chin and smiling a queer smile.

‘Well,’ said Lord Fauntleroy, settling himself in his chair with a business air, ‘I’d buy Jake out.’

‘And who is Jake?’ Mr Havisham said.

‘He’s Dick’s partner, and he is the worst partner a fellow could have! Dick says so. He isn’t a credit to the business, and he isn’t square. He cheats, and that makes Dick mad. It would make you mad, you know, if you were blacking boots as hard as you could, and being square all the time, and your partner wasn’t square at all. People like Dick, but they don’t like Jake, and so sometimes they don’t come twice. So if I were rich, I’d buy Jake out and get Dick a “boss” sign – he says a “boss” sign goes a long way; and I’d get him some new clothes and new brushes, and start him out fair. He says all he wants is to start out fair.’

There could have been nothing more confiding and innocent than the way in which his small lordship told his little story, quoting his friend Dick’s bits of slang in the most candid good faith. He seemed to feel not a shade of a doubt that his elderly companion would be just as interested as he was himself. And in truth Mr Havisham was beginning to be greatly interested; but perhaps not quite so much in Dick and the apple-woman as in this kind little lordling, whose curly head was so busy, under its yellow thatch, with good-natured plans for his friends, and who seemed somehow to have forgotten himself altogether.

‘Is there anything –’ he began. ‘What would you get for yourself if you were rich?’

‘Lots of things!’ answered Lord Fauntleroy briskly; ‘but first I’d give Mary some money for Bridget – that’s her sister, with twelve children and a husband out of work. She comes here and cries, and Dearest gives her things in a basket, and then she cries again, and says: “Blessin’s be on yez, for a beautiful lady.” And I think Mr Hobbs would like a gold watch and chain to remember me by, and a meerschaum pipe. And then I’d like to get up a company.’

‘A company!’ exclaimed Mr Havisham.

‘Like a Republican rally,’ explained Cedric, becoming quite excited. ‘I’d have torches and uniforms and things for all the boys, and myself too. And we’d march, you know, and drill. That’s what I’d like for myself, if I were rich.’

The door opened and Mrs Errol came in.

‘I am sorry to have been obliged to leave you so long,’ she said to Mr Havisham; ‘but a poor woman, who is in great trouble, came to see me.’

‘This young gentleman,’ said Mr Havisham, ‘has been telling me about some of his friends, and what he would do for them if he were rich.’

‘Bridget is one of his friends,’ said Mrs Errol; ‘and it is Bridget to whom I have been talking in the kitchen. She is in great trouble now because her husband has rheumatic fever.’

Cedric slipped down out of his big chair.

‘I think I’ll go and see her,’ he said, ‘and ask her how he is. He’s a nice man when he is well. I’m obliged to him because he once made me a sword out of wood. He’s a very talented man.’

He ran out of the room, and Mr Havisham rose from his chair. He seemed to have something in his mind which he wished to speak of. He hesitated a moment, and then said, looking down at Mrs Errol:

‘Before I left Dorincourt Castle I had an interview with the Earl, in which he gave me some instructions. He is desirous that his grandson should look forward with some pleasure to his future life in England, and also to his acquaintance with himself. He said that I must let his lordship know that the change in his life would bring him money and the pleasures children enjoy; if he expressed any wishes I was to gratify them, and to tell him that his grandfather had given him what he wished. I am aware that the Earl did not expect anything quite like this; but if it would give Lord Fauntleroy pleasure to assist this poor woman, I should feel that the Earl would be displeased if he were not gratified.’

For the second time he did not repeat the Earl’s exact words. His lordship had indeed said:

‘Make the lad understand that I can give him anything he wants. Let him know what it is to be the grandson of the Earl of Dorincourt. Buy him everything he takes a fancy to: let him have money in his pockets, and tell him his grandfather put it there.’

His motives were far from being good, and if he had been dealing with a nature less affectionate and warm-hearted than little Lord Fauntleroy’s, great harm might have been done. And Cedric’s mother was too gentle to suspect any harm. She thought that perhaps this meant that a lonely, unhappy old man, whose children were dead, wished to be kind to her little boy, and win his love and confidence. And it pleased her very much to think that Ceddie would be able to help Bridget. It made her happier to know that the very first result of the strange fortune which had befallen her little boy was that he could do kind things for those who needed kindness. Quite a warm colour bloomed on her pretty young face.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘that was very kind of the Earl; Cedric will be so glad! He has always been fond of Bridget and Michael. They are quite deserving. I have often wished I had been able to help them more. Michael is a hard-working man when he is well, but he has been ill a long time and needs expensive medicines and warm clothing and nourishing food. He and Bridget will not be wasteful of what is given them.’

Mr Havisham put his thin hand in his breast pocket and drew forth a large pocket-book. There was a queer look in his keen face. The truth was he was wondering what the Earl of Dorincourt would say when he was told what was the first wish of his grandson that had been granted. He wondered what the cross, worldly, selfish old nobleman would think of it.

‘I do not know that you have realized,’ he said, ‘that the Earl of Dorincourt is an exceedingly rich man. He can afford to gratify any caprice. I think it would please him to know that Lord Fauntleroy had been indulged in any fancy. If you will call him back and allow me, I shall give him five pounds for these people.’

‘That would be twenty-five dollars!’ exclaimed Mrs Errol. ‘It will seem like wealth to them. I can scarcely believe that it is true.’

‘It is quite true,’ said Mr Havisham with his dry smile. ‘A great change has taken place in your son’s life, a great deal of power will lie in his hands.’

‘Oh,’ cried his mother. ‘And he is such a little boy – a very little boy. How can I teach him to use it well? It makes me half afraid. My pretty little Ceddie!’

The lawyer slightly cleared his throat. It touched his worldly, hard old heart to see the tender, timid look in her brown eyes.

‘I think, madam,’ he said, ‘that if I may judge from my interview with Lord Fauntleroy this morning, the next Earl of Dorincourt will think for others as well as for his noble self. He is only a child yet, but I think he may be trusted.’

Then his mother went for Cedric and brought him back into the parlour. Mr Havisham heard him talking before he entered the room.

‘It’s infam-natory rheumatism,’ he was saying, ‘and that’s a kind of rheumatism that’s dreadful. And he thinks about the rent not being paid, and Bridget says that makes the inf’ammation worse. And Pat could get a place in a store if he had some clothes.’

His little face looked quite anxious when he came in. He was very sorry for Bridget.

‘Dearest said you wanted me,’ he said to Mr Havisham. ‘I’ve been talking to Bridget.’

Mr Havisham looked down at him a moment. He felt a little awkward and undecided. As Cedric’s mother had said, he was a very little boy.

‘The Earl of Dorincourt –’ he began, and then he glanced involuntarily at Mrs Errol.

Little Lord Fauntleroy’s mother suddenly kneeled down by him and put her tender arms around his childish body.

‘Ceddie,’ she said, ‘the Earl is your grandpapa, your own papa’s father. He is very, very kind, and he loves you and wishes you to love him, because the sons who were his little boys are dead. He wishes you to be happy and to make other people happy. He is very rich, and he wishes you to have everything you would like to have. He told Mr Havisham so, and gave him a great deal of money for you. You can give some to Bridget now; enough to pay her rent and buy Michael everything. Isn’t that fine, Ceddie? Isn’t he good?’ And she kissed the child on his round cheek, where the bright colour suddenly flashed up in his excited amazement.

He looked from his mother to Mr Havisham.

‘Can I have it now?’ he cried. ‘Can I give it to her this minute? She’s just going.’

Mr Havisham handed him the money. It was in fresh clean greenbacks and made a neat roll.

Ceddie flew out of the room.

‘Bridget!’ they heard him shout, as he tore into the kitchen. ‘Bridget, wait a minute! Here’s some money. It’s for you, and you can pay the rent. My grandpapa gave it to me. It’s for you and Michael!’

‘Oh, Master Ceddie!’ cried Bridget, in an awestricken voice. ‘It’s twenty-foive dollars is here. Where be’s the misthress?’

‘I think I shall have to go and explain it to her,’ Mrs Errol said.

So she too went out of the room, and Mr Havisham was left alone for a while. He went to the window and stood looking out into the street reflectively. He was thinking of the old Earl of Dorincourt, sitting in his great, splendid gloomy library at the castle, gouty and lonely, surrounded by grandeur and luxury, but not really loved by anyone, because in all his long life he had never really loved anyone but himself; he had been selfish and self-indulgent, and arrogant and passionate; he had cared so much for the Earl of Dorincourt and his pleasures that there had been no time for him to think of other people; all his wealth and power, all the benefits from his noble name and high rank, had seemed to him to be things only to be used to amuse and give pleasure to the Earl of Dorincourt; and now that he was an old man, all this excitement and self-indulgence had only brought him ill-health and irritability and a dislike of the world, which certainly disliked him. In spite of all his splendour, there was never a more unpopular old nobleman than the Earl of Dorincourt, and there could scarcely have been a more lonely one. He could fill his castle with guests if he chose. He could give great dinners and splendid hunting parties; but he knew that in secret the people who would accept his invitations were afraid of his frowning old face and sarcastic, biting speeches. He had a cruel tongue and a bitter nature, and he took pleasure in sneering at people and making them feel uncomfortable, when he had the power to do so, because they were sensitive or proud or timid.

Mr Havisham knew his hard, fierce ways by heart, and he was thinking of him as he looked out of the window into the quiet, narrow street. And there rose in his mind, in sharp contrast, the picture of the cheery, handsome little fellow sitting in the big chair and telling his story of his friends, Dick and the apple-woman, in his generous, innocent, honest way. And he thought of the immense income, the beautiful, majestic estates, the wealth, and power for good or evil, which in the course of time would lie in the small, chubby hands little Lord Fauntleroy thrust so deep into his pockets.

‘It will make a great difference,’ he said to himself. ‘It will make a great difference.’

Cedric and his mother came back soon after. Cedric was in high spirits. He sat down in his own chair, between his mother and the lawyer, and fell into one of his quaint attitudes, with his hands on his knees. He was glowing with enjoyment of Bridget’s relief and rapture.

‘She cried!’ he said. ‘She said she was crying for joy. I never saw anyone cry for joy before. My grandpapa must be a very good man. I didn’t know he was so good a man. It’s more – more agreeabler to be an earl than I thought it was. I’m almost glad – I’m almost quite glad I’m going to be one.’

CHAPTER 3 Leaving Home (#ulink_64655e49-be5c-5c43-9ab4-5f59d875be6e)

Cedric’s good opinion of the advantages of being an earl increased greatly during the next week. It seemed almost impossible for him to realize that there was scarcely anything he might wish to do which he could not do easily; in fact I think it may be said that he did not fully realize it at all. But at least he understood, after a few conversations with Mr Havisham, that he could gratify all his nearest wishes, and he proceeded to gratify them with a simplicity and delight which caused Mr Havisham much diversion. In the week before they sailed for England he did many curious things. The lawyer long after remembered the morning they went down together to pay a visit to Dick, and the afternoon they so amazed the apple-woman of ancient lineage by stopping before her stall and telling her she was to have a tent and a stove and a shawl and a sum of money, which seemed to her quite wonderful.

‘For I have to go to England and be a lord,’ explained Cedric sweet-temperedly. ‘And I shouldn’t like to have your bones on my mind every time it rained. My own bones never hurt, so I think I don’t know how painful a person’s bones can be, but I’ve sympathized with you a great deal, and I hope you’ll be better.’

‘She’s a very good apple-woman,’ he said to Mr Havisham as they walked away, leaving the proprietress of the stall almost gasping for breath, and not at all believing in her great fortune. ‘Once, when I fell down and cut my knee, she gave me an apple for nothing. I’ve always remembered her for it. You know you always remember people who are kind to you.’

It had never occurred to his honest, simple, little mind that there were people who could forget kindnesses.

The interview with Dick was quite exciting. Dick had just been having a great deal of trouble with Jake, and was in low spirits when they saw him. His amazement when Cedric calmly announced that they had come to give him what seemed a very great thing to him, and would set all his troubles right, almost struck him dumb. Lord Fauntleroy’s manner of announcing the object of his visit was very simple and unceremonious. Mr Havisham was much impressed by its directness as he stood by and listened. The statement that his old friend had become a lord, and was in danger of being an earl if he lived long enough, caused Dick to so open his eyes and mouth, and start, that his cap fell off. When he picked it up he uttered a rather singular exclamation. Mr Havisham thought it singular, but Cedric had heard it before.

‘I soy!’ he said, ‘what ’re yer givin’ us?’ This plainly embarrassed his lordship a little, but he bore himself bravely.

‘Everybody thinks it not true at first,’ he said. ‘Mr Hobbs thought I’d had a sunstroke. I didn’t think I was going to like it myself, but I like it better now I’m used to it. The one who is the earl now – he’s my grandpapa; and he wants me to do anything I like. He’s very kind, if he is an earl; and he sent me a lot of money by Mr Havisham, and I’ve brought some to you to buy Jake out.’

And the end of the matter was that Dick actually bought Jake out, and found himself the possessor of the business, and some new brushes and a most astonishing sign and outfit. He could not believe in his good luck any more easily than the apple-woman of ancient lineage could believe in hers; he walked about like a boot-black in a dream; he stared at his young benefactor and felt as if he might wake up at any moment. He scarcely seemed to realize anything until Cedric put out his hand to shake hands with him before going away.

‘Well, good-bye,’ he said; and though he tried to speak steadily, there was a little trouble in his voice and he winked his big brown eyes. ‘And I hope trade’ll be good. I’m sorry I’m going away to leave you, but perhaps I shall come back again when I’m an earl. And I wish you’d write to me, because we were always good friends. And if you write to me, here’s where you must send your letter.’ And he gave him a slip of paper. ‘And my name isn’t Cedric Errol any more; it’s Lord Fauntleroy and – and good-bye, Dick.’

Dick winked his eyes also, and yet they looked rather moist about the lashes. He was not an educated boot-black, and he would have felt it difficult to tell what he felt just then, if he had tried; perhaps that was why he didn’t try, and only winked his eyes and swallowed a lump in his throat.

‘I wish ye wasn’t goin’ away,’ he said in a husky voice. Then he winked his eyes again. Then he looked at Mr Havisham and touched his cap. ‘Thanky, sir, fur bringin’ him down here an’ fur wot ye’ve done. He’s – he’s a queer little feller,’ he added. ‘I’ve allers thort a heap of him. He’s such a game little feller, an’ – an’ such a queer little ‘un.’

And when they turned away he stood and looked after them in a dazed kind of way, and there was still a mist in his eyes and a lump in his throat, as he watched the gallant little figure marching gaily along by the side of its tall, rigid escort.

Until the day of his departure his lordship spent as much time as possible with Mr Hobbs in the store. Gloom had settled upon Mr Hobbs; he was much depressed in spirits. When his young friend brought to him in triumph the parting gift of a gold watch and chain, Mr Hobbs found it difficult to acknowledge it properly. He laid the case on his stout knee, and blew his nose violently several times.

‘There’s something written on it,’ said Cedric, ‘inside the case. I told the man myself what to say. “From his oldest friend, Lord Fauntleroy, to Mr Hobbs. When this you see, remember me.” I don’t want you to forget me.’

Mr Hobbs blew his nose very loudly again.

‘I shan’t forget you,’ he said, speaking a trifle huskily, as Dick had spoken; ‘nor don’t you go and forget me when you get among the British arrystocracy.’

‘I shouldn’t forget you whoever I was among,’ answered his lordship. ‘I’ve spent my happiest hours with you; at least, some of my happiest hours. I hope you’ll come to see me some time. I’m sure grandpapa would be very much pleased. Perhaps he’ll write and ask you when I tell him about you? You – you wouldn’t mind his being an earl, would you? I mean you wouldn’t stay away just because he was one, if he invited you to come?’

‘I’d come to see you,’ replied Mr Hobbs graciously.

So it seemed to be agreed that if he received a pressing invitation from the Earl to come and spend a few months at Dorincourt Castle, he was to lay aside his republican prejudices and pack his valise at once.

At last the preparations were complete; the day came when the trunks were taken to the steamer, and the hour arrived when the carriage stood at the door. Then a curious feeling of loneliness came upon the little boy. His mamma had been shut up in her room for some time; when she came down the stairs her eyes looked large and wet, and her sweet mouth was trembling. Cedric went to her, and she bent down to him, and he put his arms around her, and they kissed each other. He knew something made them both sorry, though he scarcely knew what it was; but one tender little thought rose to his lips.

‘We liked this little house, Dearest, didn’t we?’ he said. ‘We always will like it, won’t we?’

‘Yes – yes,’ she answered in a low, sweet voice. ‘Yes, darling.’ And then they went into the carriage and Cedric sat very close to her, and as she looked back out of the window he looked at her, and stroked her hand and held it close.

And then, it seemed almost directly, they were on the steamer in the midst of the wildest bustle and confusion; carriages were driving down and leaving passengers; passengers were getting into a state of excitement about baggage which had not arrived and threatened to be too late; big trunks and cases were being bumped down and dragged about; sailors were uncoiling ropes and hurrying to and fro; officers were giving orders; ladies and gentlemen and children and nurses were coming on board – some were laughing and looked gay, some were silent and sad, here and there two or three were crying and touching their eyes with their handkerchiefs. Cedric found something to interest him on every side; he looked at the piles of rope, at the furled sails, at the tall, tall masts which seemed almost to touch the hot blue sky; he began to make plans for conversing with the sailors and gaining some information on the subject of pirates.

It was just at the very last, when he was standing leaning on the railing of the upper deck and watching the final preparations, enjoying the excitement and the shouts of the sailors and wharfmen, that his attention was called to a slight bustle in one of the groups not far from him. Someone was hurriedly forcing his way through this group and coming towards him. It was a boy, with something red in his hand. It was Dick. He came up to Cedric quite breathless.

‘I’ve run all the way,’ he said. ‘I’ve come down to see ye off. Trade’s been prime! I bought this for ye out o’ what I made yesterday. Ye kin wear it when ye get among the swells. I lost the paper when I was tryin’ to get through them fellers downstairs. They didn’t want to let me up. It’s a handkercher.’

He poured it all forth as if in one sentence. A bell rang and he made a leap away before Cedric had time to speak.

‘Good-bye!’ he panted. ‘Wear it when ye get among the swells.’ And he darted off and was gone.

A few seconds later they saw him struggle through the crowd on the lower deck, and rush on shore just before the gang-plank was drawn in. He stood on the wharf and waved his cap.

Cedric held the handkerchief in his hand. It was of bright red silk, ornamented with purple horseshoes and horses’ heads.

There was a great straining and creaking and confusion. The people on the wharf began to shout to their friends, and the people on the steamer shouted back:

‘Good-bye! Good-bye! Good-bye, old fellow!’ Everyone seemed to be saying: ‘Don’t forget us. Write when you get to Liverpool. Good-bye! Good-bye!’

Little Lord Fauntleroy leaned forward and waved the red handkerchief.

‘Good-bye, Dick!’ he shouted lustily. ‘Thank you! Good-bye, Dick!’

And the big steamer moved away, and the people cheered again, and Cedric’s mother drew the veil over her eyes, and on the shore there was left great confusion; but Dick saw nothing save the bright, childish face and the bright hair that the sun shone on and the breeze lifted, and he heard nothing but the hearty childish voice calling ‘Good-bye, Dick!’ as little Lord Fauntleroy steamed slowly away from the home of his birth to the unknown land of his ancestors.

CHAPTER 4 In England (#ulink_4cf10764-3c9b-53e7-997e-9f4abcef3b5f)

It was during the voyage that Cedric’s mother told him that his home was not to be hers; and when he first understood it his grief was so great that Mr Havisham saw that the Earl had been wise in making the arrangements that his mother should be quite near him, and see him often; for it was very plain he could not have borne the separation otherwise. But his mother managed the little fellow so sweetly and lovingly, and made him feel that she would be so near him, that after a while he ceased to be oppressed by the fear of any real parting.

‘My house is not far from the Castle, Ceddie,’ she repeated each time the subject was referred to – ‘a very little way from yours, and you can always run in and see me every day, and you will have so many things to tell me, and we shall be so happy together! It is a beautiful place. Your papa has often told me about it. He loved it very much; and you will love it too.’

‘I should love it better if you were there,’ his small lordship said with a heavy little sigh.

He could not but feel puzzled by so strange a state of affairs, which could put his ‘Dearest’ in one house and himself in another.

The fact was that Mrs Errol had thought it better not to tell him why this plan had been made.

‘I should prefer he should not be told,’ she said to Mr Havisham. ‘He would not really understand; he would only be shocked and hurt; and I feel sure that his feeling for the Earl will be a more natural and affectionate one if he does not know that his grandfather dislikes me so bitterly. He has never seen hatred or hardness, and it would be a great blow to him to find out that anyone could hate me. He is so loving himself, and I am so dear to him! It is better for him that he should not be told until he is much older, and it is far better for the Earl. It would make a barrier between them, even though Ceddie is such a child.’

So Cedric only knew that there was some mysterious reason for the arrangement, some reason which he was not old enough to understand, but which would be explained when he was older. He was puzzled; but after all it was not the reason he cared about so much; and after many talks with his mother, in which she comforted him and placed before him the bright side of the picture, the dark side of it gradually began to fade out, though now and then Mr Havisham saw him sitting in some queer little old-fashioned attitude, watching the sea, with a very grave face, and more than once he heard an unchildish sigh rise to his lips.

‘I don’t like it,’ he said once as he was having one of his almost venerable talks with the lawyer. ‘You don’t know how much I don’t like it; but there are a great many troubles in this world, and you have to bear them. Mary says so, and I’ve heard Mr Hobbs say it too. And Dearest wants me to like to live with my grandpapa, because, you see, all his children are dead, and that’s very mournful. It makes you sorry for a man when all his children have died – and one was killed suddenly.’

One of the things which always delighted the people who made the acquaintance of his young lordship was the sage little air he wore at times when he gave himself up to conversation; combined with his occasionally elderly remarks and the extreme innocence and seriousness of his round childish face, it was irresistible. He was such a handsome, blooming, curly-headed little fellow, that, when he sat down and nursed his knee with his chubby hands, and conversed with much gravity, he was a source of great entertainment to his hearers. Gradually Mr Havisham had begun to derive a great deal of private pleasure and amusement from his society.

‘And so you are going to try to like the Earl?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ answered his lordship. ‘He’s my relation, and of course you have to like your relations: and besides, he’s been very kind to me. When a person does so many things for you and wants you to have everything you wish for, of course you’d like him if he wasn’t your relation; but when he’s your relation and does that, why you’re very fond of him.’

‘Do you think,’ suggested Mr Havisham, ‘that he will be fond of you?’

‘Well,’ said Cedric, ‘I think he will, because, you see, I’m his relation too, and I’m his boy’s little boy besides, and, well, don’t you see – of course he must be fond of me now, or he wouldn’t want me to have everything that I like, and he wouldn’t have sent you for me.’

‘Oh,’ remarked the lawyer, ‘that’s it, is it?’