Take Courage by Phyllis Bentley Read Free Book Online

sparkling eyes told me they enjoyed it. Francis in those days had such a pleasantness and gaiety of humour, such a clear high courage, such a real sweetness of nature beneath his rushing spirits, such charm of manner and such a grace of person as endeared him to all who knew him. It wasvery agreeable to me to see him standing in our house before my father, one hand on hip, the other swinging his hat, his eyes sparkling with the laughter affection kept from his lips, listening with a great air of respect to my father’s gentle admonitions, and promising him in a teasing voice to amend.
    â€œNoise and swiftness,” my father told him in his clear mild tones, looking over his spectacles at the lad’s bright face: “are not to be confused with action, Francis.”
    â€œNo, sir,” returned Francis. “Nor silence and slowness either, I suppose, sir.”
    â€œGod,” said my father, a little fluttered, “was not in the great wind or the earthquake or the fire; He was in the still small voice.”
    â€œYes, sir,” agreed Francis. He smothered a yawn, for the moment any talk grew religious his attention wandered.
    My father sighed, then smiled. “Well, be off with you into the sunshine,” he said. “I fear you will never be a wise man, Frank Ferrand.”
    â€œNo, sir!” cried Francis, springing away in great joyous bounds. “Come out into the orchard, Pen.”
    Besides Will, Francis had many other tutors, for music, dancing, fencing and the like; indeed in Bradford some folk laughed at Giles Ferrand, who was bringing his son up as though he were a nobleman, they said, and wondered how long his estate would stand it. I have heard Mr. Thorpe, for instance, say to my father that if Giles would mind his bowls less and his land more, things would be in a better way at Holroyd Hall.
    When I was with the Thorpes I felt that this was doubtless true, but when I was with the Ferrands I was apt to think it was better to spend and be happy than save and be glum, and I did not take Mr. Thorpe’s observations seriously, for I never saw any sign of distress over business or scarcity of money—such as we sometimes had at Fairgap, when my father looked grave and talked soberly to Will—at Holroyd Hall. We children ran in and out of the Hall whenever we liked, without a set invitation, as we dared not do at TheBreck; and I could not help liking to go there, for everything there seemed bright and quick and easy. There was always much rich meat and drink, and many serving men and maids hastening to and fro, and Mr. Ferrand roaring away cheerfully in his fine stables or playing at bowls on a little alley he had made, and Mrs. Ferrand dressing her hair before the mirror, or coaxing her husband with her pretty eyes and sweet silly speech to get money from him for some piece of furniture or new gown, and Francis fencing, very supple and nimble on his feet, or playing on the lute, of which he had some mastery. When I think of Holroyd Hall in those days, I always see it in golden sunshine, with tall daisies and buttercups in thick grass, and an elder-bush in flower, and music and laughter spilling from the windows. The meals were often unpunctual, the panelling was dusty, there was such a waste of food and drink as the mere thought of would have made Mrs. Thorpe mad; but nobody scolded us if we came to the table with hands unwashed or tore our clothes; it was thought natural for us, being children, to play; and whenever Mrs. Ferrand saw us she carelessly and lightly and serenely gave us something—an apple, a ribbon, a drink of milk. I marvelled sometimes how she could be so, being Mr. Thorpe’s sister, but it seemed Mr. Ferrand was a great match for a Thorpe and had condescended in marrying her, and she, being a sunny feather-headed girl easily swayed, took all his ways for gospel and was happy in them. Certainly she was happy enough when I first knew her; everyone