Chapter I

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　Cedric himself knew nothing whatever about it. It had never beeneven mentioned to him. He knew that his papa had been anEnglishman, because his mamma had told him so; but then his papahad died when he was so little a boy that he could not remembervery much about him, except that he was big, and had blue eyesand a long mustache, and that it was a splendid thing to becarried around the room on his shoulder. Since his papa's death,Cedric had found out that it was best not to talk to his mammaabout him. When his father was ill, Cedric had been sent away,and when he had returned, everything was over; and his mother,who had been very ill, too, was only just beginning to sit in herchair by the window. She was pale and thin, and all the dimpleshad gone from her pretty face, and her eyes looked large andmournful, and she was dressed in black."Dearest," said Cedric (his papa had called her that always,and so the little boy had learned to say it),--"dearest, is mypapa better?" He felt her arms tremble, and so he turned his curly head andlooked in her face. There was something in it that made him feelthat he was going to cry."Dearest," he said, "is he well?"Then suddenly his loving little heart told him that he'd betterput both his arms around her neck and kiss her again and again,and keep his soft cheek close to hers; and he did so, and shelaid her face on his shoulder and cried bitterly, holding him asif she could never let him go again."Yes, he is well," she sobbed; "he is quite, quite well, butwe--we have no one left but each other. No one at all."Then, little as he was, he understood that his big, handsomeyoung papa would not come back any more; that he was dead, as hehad heard of other people being, although he could not comprehendexactly what strange thing had brought all this sadness about.It was because his mamma always cried when he spoke of his papathat he secretly made up his mind it was better not to speak ofhim very often to her, and he found out, too, that it was betternot to let her sit still and look into the fire or out of thewindow without moving or talking. He and his mamma knew very fewpeople, and lived what might have been thought very lonely lives,although Cedric did not know it was lonely until he grew olderand heard why it was they had no visitors. Then he was told thathis mamma was an orphan, and quite alone in the world when hispapa had married her. She was very pretty, and had been livingas companion to a rich old lady who was not kind to her, and oneday Captain Cedric Errol, who was calling at the house, saw herrun up the stairs with tears on her eyelashes; and she looked sosweet and innocent and sorrowful that the Captain could notforget her. And after many strange things had happened, theyknew each other well and loved each other dearly, and weremarried, although their marriage brought them the ill-will ofseveral persons. The one who was most angry of all, however, wasthe Captain's father, who lived in England, and was a very richand important old nobleman, with a very bad temper and a veryviolent dislike to America and Americans. He had two sons olderthan Captain Cedric; and it was the law that the elder of thesesons should inherit the family title and estates, which were veryrich and splendid; if the eldest son died, the next one would beheir; so, though he was a member of such a great family, therewas little chance that Captain Cedric would be very rich himself.But it so happened that Nature had given to the youngest songifts which she had not bestowed upon his elder brothers. He hada beautiful face and a fine, strong, graceful figure; he had abright smile and a sweet, gay voice; he was brave and generous,and had the kindest heart in the world, and seemed to have thepower to make every one love him. And it was not so with hiselder brothers; neither of them was handsome, or very kind, orclever. When they were boys at Eton, they were not popular; whenthey were at college, they cared nothing for study, and wastedboth time and money, and made few real friends. The old Earl,their father, was constantly disappointed and humiliated by them;his heir was no honor to his noble name, and did not promise toend in being anything but a selfish, wasteful, insignificant man,with no manly or noble qualities. It was very bitter, the oldEarl thought, that the son who was only third, and would haveonly a very small fortune, should be the one who had all thegifts, and all the charms, and all the strength and beauty.Sometimes he almost hated the handsome young man because heseemed to have the good things which should have gone with thestately title and the magnificent estates; and yet, in the depthsof his proud, stubborn old heart, he could not help caring verymuch for his youngest son. It was in one of his fits ofpetulance that he sent him off to travel in America; he thoughthe would send him away for a while, so that he should not be madeangry by constantly contrasting him with his brothers, who wereat that time giving him a great deal of trouble by their wildways.But, after about six months, he began to feel lonely, and longedin secret to see his son again, so he wrote to Captain Cedric andordered him home. The letter he wrote crossed on its way aletter the Captain had just written to his father, telling of hislove for the pretty American girl, and of his intended marriage;and when the Earl received that letter he was furiously angry.Bad as his temper was, he had never given way to it in his lifeas he gave way to it when he read the Captain's letter. Hisvalet, who was in the room when it came, thought his lordshipwould have a fit of apoplexy, he was so wild with anger. For anhour he raged like a tiger, and then he sat down and wrote to hisson, and ordered him never to come near his old home, nor towrite to his father or brothers again. He told him he might liveas he pleased, and die where he pleased, that he should be cutoff from his family forever, and that he need never expect helpfrom his father as long as he lived.The Captain was very sad when he read the letter; he was veryfond of England, and he dearly loved the beautiful home where hehad been born; he had even loved his ill-tempered old father, andhad sympathized with him in his disappointments; but he knew heneed expect no kindness from him in the future. At first hescarcely knew what to do; he had not been brought up to work, andhad no business experience, but he had courage and plenty ofdetermination. So he sold his commission in the English army,and after some trouble found a situation in New York, andmarried. The change from his old life in England was very great,but he was young and happy, and he hoped that hard work would dogreat things for him in the future. He had a small house on aquiet street, and his little boy was born there, and everythingwas so gay and cheerful, in a simple way, that he was never sorryfor a moment that he had married the rich old lady's prettycompanion just because she was so sweet and he loved her and sheloved him. She was very sweet, indeed, and her little boy waslike both her and his father. Though he was born in so quiet andcheap a little home, it seemed as if there never had been a morefortunate baby. In the first place, he was always well, and sohe never gave any one trouble; in the second place, he had sosweet a temper and ways so charming that he was a pleasure toevery one; and in the third place, he was so beautiful to look atthat he was quite a picture. Instead of being a bald-headedbaby, he started in life with a quantity of soft, fine,gold-colored hair, which curled up at the ends, and went intoloose rings by the time he was six months old; he had big browneyes and long eyelashes and a darling little face; he had sostrong a back and such splendid sturdy legs, that at nine monthshe learned suddenly to walk; his manners were so good, for ababy, that it was delightful to make his acquaintance. He seemedto feel that every one was his friend, and when any one spoke tohim, when he was in his carriage in the street, he would give thestranger one sweet, serious look with the brown eyes, and thenfollow it with a lovely, friendly smile; and the consequence was,that there was not a person in the neighborhood of the quietstreet where he lived--even to the groceryman at the corner, whowas considered the crossest creature alive--who was not pleasedto see him and speak to him. And every month of his life he grewhandsomer and more interesting.When he was old enough to walk out with his nurse, dragging asmall wagon and wearing a short white kilt skirt, and a big whitehat set back on his curly yellow hair, he was so handsome andstrong and rosy that he attracted every one's attention, and hisnurse would come home and tell his mamma stories of the ladieswho had stopped their carriages to look at and speak to him, andof how pleased they were when he talked to them in his cheerfullittle way, as if he had known them always. His greatest charmwas this cheerful, fearless, quaint little way of making friendswith people. I think it arose from his having a very confidingnature, and a kind little heart that sympathized with every one,and wished to make every one as comfortable as he liked to behimself. It made him very quick to understand the feelings ofthose about him. Perhaps this had grown on him, too, because hehad lived so much with his father and mother, who were alwaysloving and considerate and tender and well-bred. He had neverheard an unkind or uncourteous word spoken at home; he had alwaysbeen loved and caressed and treated tenderly, and so his childishsoul was full of kindness and innocent warm feeling. He hadalways heard his mamma called by pretty, loving names, and so heused them himself when he spoke to her; he had always seen thathis papa watched over her and took great care of her, and so helearned, too, to be careful of her.So when he knew his papa would come back no more, and saw howvery sad his mamma was, there gradually came into his kind littleheart the thought that he must do what he could to make herhappy. He was not much more than a baby, but that thought was inhis mind whenever he climbed upon her knee and kissed her and puthis curly head on her neck, and when he brought his toys andpicture-books to show her, and when he curled up quietly by herside as she used to lie on the sofa. He was not old enough toknow of anything else to do, so he did what he could, and wasmore of a comfort to her than he could have understood."Oh, Mary!" he heard her say once to her old servant; "I amsure he is trying to help me in his innocent way--I know he is.He looks at me sometimes with a loving, wondering little look, asif he were sorry for me, and then he will come and pet me or showme something. He is such a little man, I really think heknows."As he grew older, he had a great many quaint little ways whichamused and interested people greatly. He was so much of acompanion for his mother that she scarcely cared for any other.They used to walk together and talk together and play together.When he was quite a little fellow, he learned to read; and afterthat he used to lie on the hearth-rug, in the evening, and readaloud--sometimes stories, and sometimes big books such as olderpeople read, and sometimes even the newspaper; and often at suchtimes Mary, in the kitchen, would hear Mrs. Errol laughing withdelight at the quaint things he said."And; indade," said Mary to the groceryman, "nobody cud helplaughin' at the quare little ways of him--and his ould-fashionedsayin's! Didn't he come into my kitchen the noight the newPrisident was nominated and shtand afore the fire, lookin' loikea pictur', wid his hands in his shmall pockets, an' his innocentbit of a face as sayrious as a jedge? An' sez he to me: `Mary,'sez he, `I'm very much int'rusted in the 'lection,' sez he. `I'ma 'publican, an' so is Dearest. Are you a 'publican, Mary?'`Sorra a bit,' sez I; `I'm the bist o' dimmycrats!' An' he looksup at me wid a look that ud go to yer heart, an' sez he: `Mary,'sez he, `the country will go to ruin.' An' nivver a day sincethin has he let go by widout argyin' wid me to change mepolytics."Mary was very fond of him, and very proud of him, too. She hadbeen with his mother ever since he was born; and, after hisfather's death, had been cook and housemaid and nurse andeverything else. She was proud of his graceful, strong littlebody and his pretty manners, and especially proud of the brightcurly hair which waved over his forehead and fell in charminglove-locks on his shoulders. She was willing to work early andlate to help his mamma make his small suits and keep them inorder."'Ristycratic, is it?" she would say. "Faith, an' I'd loiketo see the choild on Fifth Avey-noo as looks loike him an' shtepsout as handsome as himself. An' ivvery man, woman, and choildlookin' afther him in his bit of a black velvet skirt made out ofthe misthress's ould gownd; an' his little head up, an' his curlyhair flyin' an' shinin'. It's loike a young lord he looks."Cedric did not know that he looked like a young lord; he did notknow what a lord was. His greatest friend was the groceryman atthe corner--the cross groceryman, who was never cross to him.His name was Mr. Hobbs, and Cedric admired and respected him verymuch. He thought him a very rich and powerful person, he had somany things in his store,--prunes and figs and oranges andbiscuits,--and he had a horse and wagon. Cedric was fond of themilkman and the baker and the apple-woman,, but he liked Mr.Hobbsbest of all, and was on terms of such intimacy with him that hewent to see him every day, and often sat with him quite a longtime, discussing the topics of the hour. It was quite surprisinghow many things they found to talk about--the Fourth of July, forinstance. When they began to talk about the Fourth of July therereally seemed no end to it. Mr. Hobbs had a very bad opinion of"the British," and he told the whole story of the Revolution,relating very wonderful and patriotic stories about the villainyof the enemy and the bravery of the Revolutionary heroes, and heeven generously repeated part of the Declaration of Independence.Cedric was so excited that his eyes shone and his cheeks were redand his curls were all rubbed and tumbled into a yellow mop. Hecould hardly wait to eat his dinner after he went home, he was soanxious to tell his mamma. It was, perhaps, Mr. Hobbs who gavehim his first interest in politics. Mr. Hobbs was fond ofreading the newspapers, and so Cedric heard a great deal aboutwhat was going on in Washington; and Mr. Hobbs would tell himwhether the President was doing his duty or not. And once, whenthere was an election, he found it all quite grand, and probablybut for Mr. Hobbs and Cedric the country might have been wrecked.Mr. Hobbs took him to see a great torchlight procession, and manyof the men who carried torches remembered afterward a stout manwho stood near a lamp-post and held on his shoulder a handsomelittle shouting boy, who waved his cap in the air.It was not long after this election, when Cedric was betweenseven and eight years old, that the very strange thing happenedwhich made so wonderful a change in his life. It was quitecurious, too, that the day it happened he had been talking to Mr.Hobbs about England and the Queen, and Mr. Hobbs had said somevery severe things about the aristocracy, being speciallyindignant against earls and marquises. It had been a hotmorning; and after playing soldiers with some friends of his,Cedric had gone into the store to rest, and had found Mr. Hobbslooking very fierce over a piece of the Illustrated London News,which contained a picture of some court ceremony."Ah," he said, "that's the way they go on now; but they'll getenough of it some day, when those they've trod on rise and blow'em up sky-high,--earls and marquises and all! It's coming, andthey may look out for it!"Cedric had perched himself as usual on the high stool and pushedhis hat back, and put his hands in his pockets in delicatecompliment to Mr. Hobbs."Did you ever know many marquises, Mr. Hobbs?" Cedricinquired,--"or earls?""No," answered Mr. Hobbs, with indignation; "I guess not. I'dlike to catch one of 'em inside here; that's all! I'll have nograsping tyrants sittin' 'round on my cracker-barrels!"And he was so proud of the sentiment that he looked aroundproudly and mopped his forehead."Perhaps they wouldn't be earls if they knew any better," saidCedric, feeling some vague sympathy for their unhappy condition."Wouldn't they!" said Mr. Hobbs. "They just glory in it!It's in 'em. They're a bad lot."They were in the midst of their conversation, when Mary appeared.Cedric thought she had come to buy some sugar, perhaps, but shehad not. She looked almost pale and as if she were excited aboutsomething."Come home, darlint," she said; "the misthress is wantin'yez."Cedric slipped down from his stool."Does she want me to go out with her, Mary?" he asked."Good-morning, Mr. Hobbs. I'll see you again."He was surprised to see Mary staring at him in a dumfoundedfashion, and he wondered why she kept shaking her head."What's the matter, Mary?" he said. "Is it the hot weather?""No," said Mary; "but there's strange things happenin' tous.""Has the sun given Dearest a headache?" he inquired anxiously.But it was not that. When he reached his own house there was acoupe standing before the door. and some one was in the littleparlor talking to his mamma. Mary hurried him upstairs and puton his best summer suit of cream-colored flannel, with the redscarf around his waist, and combed out his curly locks."Lords, is it?" he heard her say. "An' the nobility an'gintry. Och! bad cess to them! Lords, indade--worse luck."It was really very puzzling, but he felt sure his mamma wouldtell him what all the excitement meant, so he allowed Mary tobemoan herself without asking many questions. When he wasdressed, he ran downstairs and went into the parlor. A tall,thin old gentleman with a sharp face was sitting in anarm-chair. His mother was standing near by with a pale face, andhe saw that there were tears in her eyes."Oh! Ceddie!" she cried out, and ran to her little boy andcaught him in her arms and kissed him in a frightened, troubledway. "Oh! Ceddie, darling!"The tall old gentleman rose from his chair and looked at Cedricwith his sharp eyes. He rubbed his thin chin with his bony handas he looked.He seemed not at all displeased."And so," he said at last, slowly,--"and so this is littleLord Fauntleroy."