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Updated: June 15, 2025
The main village of Drumston was about a mile from the church which I have before noticed, and consisted of a narrow street of cob-houses, whitewashed and thatched, crossing at right angles, by a little stone bridge, over a pretty, clear trout-stream.
The thin lips, the everlasting smile, the quick, suspicious glance were fearfully repulsive. He was the only son of a small farmer in one of the outlying hamlets of Drumston.
Mulhaus, the mysterious German, with his good-humoured roar, first heard at old Drumston, and with us to the end, who is everybody's friend and counsellor, and beloved by all except George Hawker, of whose 'tom-cat' skull he has made that amusingly audacious examination at the beginning of their acquaintance.
Stockbridge sat in his saddle immoveable and silent as a statue, and when I looked in his face I saw that his heart had travelled further than his eye could reach, and that he was looking far beyond the horizon that bounded his earthly vision, away to the pleasant old home which was home to us no longer. "Jim," said I, "I wonder what is going on at Drumston now?" "I wonder," he said softly.
But in the meantime he moved into Devonshire, and took a pretty little cottage which was to let, not a quarter of a mile from Drumston Vicarage. Such an addition to John Thornton's little circle of acquaintances was very welcome. The Major and he very soon became fast friends, and noble Mrs. Buckley was seldom a day without spending an hour at least, with the beautiful, wilful, Mary Thornton.
I mentioned before that, after Clere was sold, the Major had taken a cottage in Drumston, and was a constant visitor on the Vicar; generally calling for the old gentleman to come fishing or shooting, and leaving his wife and his little son Samuel in the company of Mary and Miss Thornton. "I have come, Vicar, to take you out fishing," said he. "Get your rod and come. A capital day.
"I know," she said. "It was that horrible villain they call Touan." "The same man," he answered. "Do you know who he is?" She found somehow breath to say, "How can I? How is it possible?" "I will tell you," said Lee. "There, sitting in front of Mr. Troubridge, hardly altered in all these long years, sat George Hawker, formerly of Drumston, your husband!"
"The living of Drumston, nephew, is in my gift; and if Mr. Thornton does not recover, as is very possible, I shall give it to you. I wish you, therefore, to go to Drumston, and become acquainted with your future parishioners. You will find Miss Thornton a most charming old lady." Frank Maberly was the second son of a country gentleman of good property, and was a very remarkable character.
You are a great stranger here lately. Some young lady to run after, I suppose? Well, never mind; I hope it ain't Miss Blake." "A man may not marry his grandmother, Lee," said Sam, laughing. "True for you, sir," said Lee. "That was wrote up in Drumston church, I mind, and some other things alongside of it, which I could say by heart once on a time all on black boards, with yellow letters.
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