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Updated: June 26, 2025
Harry, Miss Quiney and he. The Captain was talking. . . . A servant brought word that two ladies Mr. Hanmer could not recall their names had called from Boston and desired to see Mrs. Vyell. "Surely," protested Mrs. Harry, "they must mean Lady Vyell?" The servant was positive: Mrs. Captain Vyell had been the name. "They are anxious to pay their respects," suggested Miss Quiney. "Anxious indeed!
"No? . . ." She was wondering at the mysterious life a-flutter in her side that it should be his brother. "Not half. I'll have to get you into training. . . . Now show me the stables, please." They were retracing their steps when along a green alley they saw Mr. Hanmer coming down to meet them. He was alone, and his face, always grave, seemed to Ruth graver than ever. "Dicky!" said he.
"Thank you," answered Mr. Hanmer. "But are you sure? In my experience of houses there's always some one that objects." Dicky lifted his chin. "We call this the nursery because it has always been the nursery. But I do what I like here." Mr.
"Maybe," she answered snappishly. "For my part, I'd take more comfort, just now, to be called a respectable woman." Ruth laughed, kissed her again, and stood listening to the footsteps as they retreated down the gravelled way. Among them her ear distinguished easily the firm tread of Mr. Hanmer.
"I have a favour to beg. . . . Is it true, by the way," she asked mischievously, "that to talk with a woman distresses you?" "Ma'am " "My name is Ruth Josselin." Mr. Hanmer either missed to hear the correction or heard and put it aside. "Been at sea all my life," he explained. "They caught me young."
Hanmer, with a bow and hand lifted to the salute, stalked out at their heels. "I'll warrant Jack Hanmer 'd liefer walk up to a gun," swore Captain Harry as the curtain fell behind them. "He bolts from the sight of Sally. I'll make Sally laugh over this." But here he pulled himself up and added beneath his voice, "I can't tell her, though."
Hanmer has put out his pipe, you see, and the window is open." Lady Caroline carried an eyeglass with a long handle of tortoise-shell. Through it she treated Dicky to a deliberate and disconcerting scrutiny, and lowered it to turn and ask Mrs. Harry, "You permit him to call you 'Aunt Sarah'?" Mrs. Harry laughed.
Our authour fell then into the hands of Sir Thomas Hanmer, the Oxford editor, a man, in my opinion, eminently qualified by nature for such studies. He had, what is the first requisite to emendatory criticism, that intuition by which the poet's intention is immediately discovered, and that dexterity of intellect which dispatches its work by the easiest means.
Meredith Hanmer relates in his Chronicle that William Rufus, standing on a high rock, and looking towards Ireland said: "I will bring hither my ships, and pass over and conquer that land;" and on these words of the son of the Conqueror being repeated to Murkertach O'Brien, he replied: "Hath the King in his great threatening said if it please God?" and when answered "No;" "Then," said the Irish monarch, "I fear him not, since he putteth his trust in man and not in God."
"It sounds better, you will admit, than 'Aunt Sally, and don't necessitate my carrying a pipe in my mouth. Oh yes," she added, with a glance at the boy's flushed face, "Dicky and I are great friends. In any one's presence but Mr. Hanmer's I would say 'the best of friends." Lady Caroline turned her eyeglass upon Mr. Hanmer. "Is this er gentleman his tutor?" she asked.
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