Kitabı oku: «Modern Broods; Or, Developments Unlooked For», sayfa 7
It was in a fearful tangle, after five hours at sea, and many more in the berth in the cabin; but Vera was able to sit up in a dainty dressing-gown, and submit to treatment not quite that of a hairdresser, but made as lively as could be by little jokes and kindly apologies at any extra hard pull at the knots, which really seemed “as if a witch had twined them;” and the two began to feel well acquainted with each other over the operation, though Vera was somewhat impressed when she observed that the brush was ivory handled.
Her bicycling skirt was in tolerable condition, but her once delicate blue blouse was past renovation, so she was invested with a borrowed white one, and led in triumph to the saloon, just as the beautiful “Francie” came to call “Phyllis,” and give a helping hand. There were two gentlemen besides Hubert Delrio, and there was a general rejoicing welcome; but Vera did not think Hubert made half enough inquiries or apologies, before she was seated at the table, where everything was secured, and the fare was not very sumptuous or various, being chiefly some concoction of rice and scraps of salt beef, which Francie said was a shame, eating up the poor sailors’ fare; also there was potted meat, and cheese, but all the fresh bread was gone, and they praised Mrs. Griggs’ construction of ham and rice with all the warmth and drollery each could contribute. Vera began to be puzzled as to who every one was, for no names except Phyl, Fly, Francie and Ivy were heard, and the merry grey-haired head of the family was “Father” or “Papa” to every one, except of course Mr. Delrio, who, however, seemed at his ease, and took a fair share in the talk, and once or twice Vera thought he said, “my lord,” but she did not believe it.
“I find you are a friend of a special pet of mine, Mysie Merrifield,” said the father.
“I know her a little,” stammered Vera, “but Primrose best.”
“Nearer your age, eh? But Mysie is our gem! It looks fit for going on deck.”
After the apology for a dinner, the young married pair went their way, he to endeavour to add a fish to their provisions, she to look on; the father and Delrio went where the latter could best study the wonderful tints of sunset over the purple retreating clouds, and the still agitated foaming sea,—sights that seemed to be filling him with enchantment, and revealing effects in colour, while his delight was evidently a new pleasure to his companion.
Vera was afraid to move, and sat on a deck chair, with her back to the sunset, while Phyllis, who perhaps would have liked to share in the admiration, sat by her, so that Vera began to accept her as a special friend, and to pour out the explanation of how she came to be tossing in an open boat with this one companion.
“You see, poor fellow,” she said, simpering, “he has been always so devoted to me. Everybody observed it, and I could not help just gratifying him a little.”
“He does seem to be very full of promise,” said Phyllis. “I suppose Miss Prescott is much pleased with him.”
“My sister Magdalen, do you mean? Well, we have not introduced him to her yet. You see, he is only painting the church, and she is so devoted to swells, and makes such a fuss about our manners.”
“Indeed! But surely you could not go out with him without her knowing it.”
“She was not at this St. Milburgha’s Guild, you know, and Sisters Beata and Mena knew all about it. Oh, yes, she lets us go to them at St. Kenelm’s, but they are not swells enough for her.”
“Mr. Flight’s Sisterhood, are not they?”
“And Primrose Merrifield says that Wilfred declares that they are not ladies; but that’s all jealousy, you know, because Will doesn’t like my friends, and Magdalen is altogether gone upon grandees.”
“Fancy!” was all that Phyllis managed to say.
“She doesn’t want us to be friends with anybody who don’t belong to some one with a handle to her name. So foolish and stuck up! So we knew she would not be kind to Hubert.”
“I think you had better have tried. I thought her one of the kindest people in the world.”
“Ah! but, you know, unfortunately she has been a governess, and that teaches toadying.”
At that moment “Phyl” was called to see the first star over the sea, and ran up to her father, so as to conceal how nearly she was laughing. Hubert Delrio came towards Vera.
“Can you forgive me, Vera?” he said. “I shall speak to your sister as soon as I am at home, and ask her forgiveness, and—”
“Oh, yes! yes! But do tell me who these people are.”
“Did you not know? That most kind of men, is Lord Rotherwood. Those are Lord and Lady Ivinghoe, and—”
“Lady Phyllis! Oh!”
CHAPTER XIII—CHIMERAS DIRE
“Qu’allait-il faire dans cette galère?”
French Comedy.
Vera’s first thorough awakening the next morning was to hear outside the door, “Are you up, Fly?”
“I shall be in a minute or two. Do you want me?”
“You are a dab at parlez-vous. I want you to come ashore with me and cater for the starving crew.”
“What fun! Anon, anon, Sir!”
Vera then perceived that she had been bestowed in Lady Phyllis’ cabin, and that the proper owner was dressing herself in haste before the little shelf of a toilette table. So great had been the confusion of last night’s discovery that the poor silly child had only thought of hurrying out of sight and tumbling into bed without speaking to any one, and she had not distinctly known, when Lady Phyllis came down a good deal later and disposed of herself on the sofa, that Mrs. Griggs had made ready for her. And now the only thing she could think of was to say, “Oh! Lady Phyllis, I didn’t know.”
“Take care! Don’t knock your head! We ought to have remembered that Boreas, or whichever it was, was hardly a sufficient introduction. Are you all right now? You had better go to sleep again till I bring something to eat. We are lying to off some little Breton fishing village, and I am going with my brother to get some provisions, and telegraph if we can.”
It was long before they came back. Vera had another nap, dressed herself, grew very hungry, and came out to find Lord Rotherwood fishing, and his daughter-in-law watching for the boat to put out from the white houses with grey roofs, which, clustered round their church-tower, seemed descending to the water’s edge. They were equally famished, though Mrs. Griggs stewed up the poor remnants of last night’s banquet; but at last the little boat appeared, gaily dancing over the waves, and Phyllis making signals of success.
“Oh, yes, you may be thankful, you poor starving beings! Here, Mrs. Griggs! Accept, and do all you can! Here are eggs, and some milk and fresh water, four poulets, such as they are, and a huge monster of a crab; but all the bread is leavened, and you little guess what Ivy and I had to go through before we were allowed to buy anything. We were had up to the Mayor, and had to constater all manner of things about our ship, to prove that we were no smugglers.”
“I thought the fat old rogue would have come out to visit the yacht before he would have allowed us a morsel,” said Lord Ivinghoe.
“In which case you might have been found a skeleton, father, like Sir Hugh Willoughby! And as to our telegrams, they won’t go till the diligence gets to St. Malo, and what they will make of them there is another question. I did not dare to send more than one, for fear they should get mixed up.”
Vera heard the joyous chaff as it fluttered round her, not half understanding it any more than if it had been a strange tongue, and not always guessing the cause of the fits of laughter, chiefly at Lord Ivinghoe’s misadventures, over which his little sister and his father were well pleased to tease his correctness, and his young wife looked a little hurt at his being tormented. He could not remember that braconnier was a poacher by land, not by sea, and very unnecessarily disclaimed to the Maire being such a thing. His father, he said, “was gentilhomme anglais en—what’s a yacht?—yac. (Nonsense! that’s a long-haired ox. No!) Non point contrabandiste, mais galérien dans galère.” “And there I interposed,” said Phyllis, “for fear we should be boarded as escaped galériens.”
“Why, galley was a pleasure-boat sometimes,” said Ivinghoe, and his wife supported him with “Cleopatra’s galley.”
“Well done, Francie! To your oars for Ivy’s defence,” said Lord Rotherwood. “How did you defend us, Fly, from being towed into harbour at Brest as runaway convicts?”
“She gabbled away most eloquently to the Maire, almost as fluently as a born French-woman,” said Ivinghoe, “and persuaded him at last that it was not necessary to come on board to inspect us, nor even to detain us till he had sent for instructions to St. Malo.”
“As Ivy managed matters, I thought we might be kept as hostages,” said Phyllis.
“But, thanks to her blandishments, the solemn official vouchsafed to send off a messenger for us with a telegram.”
“I do not think he sent directions to pursue our suspicious galère,” added Phyllis; “but I own I shall be glad to be under the lee of old England again.”
“What was your telegram?”
“Brevity was safest, nor had we money enough for two; so all I attempted was, ‘Delrio to Flight, Rock Quay. Both safe. Picked up by Kittiwake.’ I thought that would be the quickest means of relieving anxiety, as we were not sure of other addresses; and as to ‘home,’ Mamma probably hardly was aware of the storm, or, if she were, she knew the capabilities of yachts and of Griggs.”
“Right!” returned his father. “Poor Miss Prescott! she must have given you up for lost. Have you been improving your mind with French telegrams?” he added, turning to Delrio.
“No, my lord, I found my way to the church, a wonderful piece of old Norman!—if it may so be called.”
“I see you have been sketching.”
Griggs here interposed with tidings that eggs and coffee were ready in the saloon, the worthy pair having had respect to the general famine, and prepared what could be made ready in haste. Those who had eaten ashore sat by, making an amusing account of their reception, and difficulties with language and peasants, for, this not being an ordinary place of call, nothing was ready for sale.
Vera, finding herself for the first time in distinguished company, which desired to set her at ease, began to be at ease, and to desire to shine, so she giggled whenever she perceived the slightest excuse, even when Lord Ivinghoe handed her the eggs, and, hoped she had not too British an appetite for French eggs; and Lady Ivinghoe asked if she had seen the fowls, and whether their feathers were ruffled up like a hen’s that had been given to Aunt Cherry. Her little sister Joan, she added, had asked whether eating the eggs would make her hair curl.
“Or stand on end,” said Phyllis.
“As I am afraid Miss Prescott’s is doing till your telegram reaches her. Did you say it was to go from St. Malo?”
“Yes. I thought that the safest place to have a comprehensible message copied.”
“To whom did you say?” asked Lady Ivinghoe.
“‘Delrio to Flight.’ Oh, they will know his name and address fast enough when it gets to Rock Quay.”
“He is the clergyman at St. Kenelm’s,” put in Vera, in explanation; “very very advanced Ritualist, you know.”
“Indeed!” was the answer.
“Oh, yes, that he is. My sister Polly is perfectly devoted to him; but we don’t go to his church, except now and then, because my eldest sister is just one of those very old-fashioned people, you know, who want everything horrid and dull.”
“That is hardly what our cousins think of Miss Prescott,” said Phyllis. “I am so sorry for her anxiety! But I was not sure of the name of her place.”
“The Goyle! Isn’t it frightful?” said Vera.
“You say she was unprepared for your adventure?”
“Oh, yes, quite. Her notions are so dreadfully proper and old fashioned. She hasn’t got any sympathy, has she, Hubert?”
“I don’t know,” he said gravely. “I have always had the greatest respect for her.”
“Respect! So you ought. That’s just the thing one has for a slow dear old fogey,” she said, laughing, “Oh, Hubert!” There was a silence, and Lord Rotherwood made an observation upon the wind.
Vera perceived an awkwardness, and, by way of repairing it, afterwards thought it expedient to communicate to Lady Phyllis that it might be a pity she had said “Hubert.” It was so awkward, only he was such an old acquaintance.
“I should have thought the awkwardness was incurred long ago,” said Lady Phyllis. “Come, you will have no more concealments from Miss Prescott, will you? You will be ever so much more comfortable, and find out how kind she is.”
“Oh, but!—” Vera wanted to talk over all her grievances for the pleasure of talking, saying very much what she had said before, and Phyllis tried to endure and put in as much sense as she could, without lecturing the girl, who struck her as the very silliest she had ever encountered; but she was continually called off to admire the receding French coast, or to look at the creatures brought up by dredging. She always took care to call Vera, and not let her feel herself left out; but Vera, if in solitude for a moment, reflected on the neglect shown of little people by great ones; and when called up to see uncanny slimy creatures, or even transparent balls like watery umbrellas, only was disgusted and horrified.
She began to guess, rather truly, that Lady Phyllis wanted to hinder a tête-à-tête between her and Hubert Delrio. In fact, Lord Rotherwood, who was much more of a sympathetic, confidence-inviting personage than his stiffer, much older seeming son, had said to his daughter, “Don’t let that poor lad and the girl get together alone, Fly; the boy thinks he is bound to make her an offer.”
“Oh, father! Surely not!”
“No more than if they had been two babies in a walnut shell. So I told him, but people don’t see what infants they are themselves, and I want to hinder him from putting his foot in it before he has seen her aunt—cousin—sister, or whoever it is that has the charge of her; and she has depicted to him a Gorgon, with Medusa’s hair, claws and all—a fancy sketch, isn’t it?”
“Of course, sentimental schoolgirl colours! Mysie thinks her delightful.”
“At any rate, let him get a dose of common sense before committing himself. He is a capital fellow, sure to rise; has the soul and head and hands for it, but he ought not to weight himself with a drag.”
“Do you think he is really in love with her?”
Lord Rotherwood waved his hands. “He thinks so, but nobody knows with those boys! I had to tell him at last that I would not have any philandering on board my ship; and whatever he might think it his duty to say, must be put off for aunt—sister—Gorgon—Medusa or what not. And I don’t think he’s very bad, Fly, for he modestly asked permission to sketch Francie’s head for St. Mildred, or Milburg, or somebody; and was ready to run crazy about the tints on that dogfish. The young fellow is in the queerest state between the artist and the lover! delight and shame! I should like to take him north with us; the colours of the cliffs in the Isles would soon drive out Miss Victoria—what’s her name?”
“You don’t think him like Stephen in the Mill on the Floss, who ought to have married Maggie Tulliver.”
“I believe that is his precedent—but it is sheer stuff—pure accident—as a respectable old householder like me is ready to testify to the Gorgons and Chimeras dire—Grundys and all. We must encounter Rock Quay, Fly, if it is only to rescue this unlucky youth.”
“What is he doing now? Oh, I see; drawing Francie, who sits as stiff as a Saint of Burne-Jones! Well, I’ll have an eye to them! Vera! Have you finished Rudder Grange?”
“Not quite. I can’t make out who Lord Edward was.”
“Why, the big dog! Did you think he was Pomona’s hero?”
“I don’t know. Wasn’t Pomona very silly?”
“If life was to be taken from story-books,” said Phyllis, in a very didactic mood; “but you see she imbibed the best side, what they really taught her of good.”
“I thought, when you gave me the book, it was to be an adventure like mine, not all standing still in an old river. What do you think Hubert Delrio ought to do after persuading me into such an awful predicament?”
“Tell your sister he is very sorry that you two foolish children got into such a scrape, and very thankful that you were saved.”
“We are very thankful to Lord Rotherwood.”
“I didn’t mean to him. To some One else,” said Phyllis, reverently.
“Oh, of course,” said Vera. “But what do you think, Lady Phyllis?” (Since her discovery of the title she made a liberal use of it.) “What do you think people will say?”
“That a little girl has had a dangerous adventure and a happy escape.”
“I am seventeen, Lady Phyllis!”
“One is nothing like grown up at seventeen! I declare there’s a big steamer coming into sight. I wonder if it belongs to the Channel Fleet!”
Nothing more sentimental could be extracted for the rest of the voyage.
CHAPTER XIV—PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED
“I marry without more ado,
My dear Dick Red Cap, what say you?”
Cowper.
The telegram had been received about mid-day; and Mr. Flight rushed up with it to the Goyle, just in time to prevent poor old Mr. Delrio from starting hopelessly home. It had suffered a good deal in spelling and precision, in spite of Lady Phyllis’s precautions; but “both safe” was understood, as it was known in Rock Quay that “Lord Rotherwood and family,” as the papers had it, were yachting in the Kittiwake and might be expected in the bay.
Agatha and Paula threw their arms round one another and cried; Magdalen, with a choke in her voice, struggled to ask Mr. Flight to lead them in a few words of thanksgiving; and as soon as these were over, Thekla expressed her hopes that they had been cast on a desert island and would bring home Man Friday.
The Goyle ladies walked over to Clipstone with the good news, and the whole party went down afterwards to Rockstone to look out for yachts, and inquire about possibilities. The Kittiwake being a steamer, light and swift, might be expected in harbour in the course of the night, and Mr. Delrio meant to wait for her at his son’s lodgings. The ladies wished they could do the same; and Paula was allowed to accept Sister Beata’s humble entreaty to house her. But they did not know how long before the telegraph from St. Malo the Kittiwake from St. Cadoc had spread her wings and hoisted her feather, for, happily, her coals had held out better than her provisions. So, as they were looking their last look from the cliffs of Beechcroft Miss Mohun exclaimed, “A steamer! a yacht! Kittiwake!”
Glasses were rushed for, and unaccustomed eyes could trace the graceful course through the gentle evening waves towards the quay.
Every one was on the quay in time to receive the boat, which, rowed by four smart sailors, was seen with the party of six, two sailor hats, and one red cap being at once spied out among the female figures. Then two hats were waved and answered by cheers of welcome; and the figures were recognised, and unnecessarily numerous hands stretched out to assist the landing from the plank extended to the boat.
Vera was put first by her kind rescuers, Lord Rotherwood’s hand guiding her to the rail, and, after an insecure step or so, she found herself in the arms of Paulina, sobbing for joy; and the little cluster of sisters seemed to know nothing else, except Thekla, who presently, in the confusion of the greetings, was found by Lord Rotherwood looking about vaguely, and saying, “But where’s their man Friday?”
“You must accept me for him,” said he. “’Tis Friday, unless we have lost our reckoning! I hope you think me something promising in the way of savages!”
Young Delrio’s first proceeding, even while his father was wringing his hand in speechless welcome and thankfulness, was to turn to Captain Henderson. “Sir, your boat is safe, it will be brought in to-morrow. I am much concerned, and beg your forgiveness, but I had no idea that it was yours till Griggs found your name. Only one oar is lost, and a cushion, which I will replace.”
“Say no more, pray,” said Captain Henderson. “The fault was my servant’s, who took it without leave, and left it out. He must repair the very slight damage.”
Miss Mohun wanted the whole troop to come up to Beechcroft to drink tea, and her relations consented; but the hearts of the Prescotts were a great deal too full for them not to wish to be alone together; and after Magdalen had given her hand to Lord Rotherwood with a fervent, “You know what I would say, my lord—beyond all words,” they turned homewards; but Mr. Flight ran after them to say in a low voice, “Can we meet to-morrow at eight for a service of thanksgiving?” And this was gladly accepted.
Hubert was dragged off by his father.
“Nonsense! they don’t want your apologies and explanations. It would only be besetting them. Come home with me, and don’t be a fool! But write a few lines to your poor mother, after the intolerable fright you have given her; meddling and presuming where you had no business. A Providence it is that you are not half across the Atlantic, if not at the bottom of it.”
Of course this was the reaction of great anxiety; but however meekly Hubert submitted to the queer outpouring of affection, and however thankful they both were, and glad and content over the particulars of the youth’s work and progress, still he was not to be withheld from laying hand and heart at Vera Prescott’s feet, as he insisted was due to her and her family after the compromising situation in which he had placed her. His father said it was talking novels and folly; but he was a man of three and twenty, and could not well be stopped, as he was earning his own livelihood, and had always been irreproachable. So Mr. Delrio had to leave the matter, only expressing discouragement, and insisting that it must be no more than an engagement.
The thanksgiving took place as arranged, and Lord Rotherwood, his daughter, and Mysie were there. For indeed there had been danger enough during the thunderstorm to make the safety of the Kittiwake a matter of thankfulness, though the rescue of the boat had caused it to be almost forgotten in the history of the night.
Lady Flight had begged that all would come to breakfast with her, and this was accepted by the Goyle party; but the Clipstone pony-carriage was waiting for the others, and they could not accede to Lady Flight’s impromptu, and rather nervous, invitation. But before they started Lord Rotherwood managed to say a few words aside to Miss Prescott of the impression he had divined from his voyage with Hubert Delrio, whom he thought a young man of great ability and promise, and of excellent principles, but with a chivalry it was quite refreshing to see in youth, perhaps ready to strain honourable scruples almost too far for his own good or that of others.
Magdalen thought she perceived what had been in the marquis’s mind when, immediately after her return home, Hubert and Vera came up, hand in hand, and he informed her of their mutual attachment.
“I am afraid, Miss Prescott,” he said, “that we may not have acted rightly or squarely by you; and this last adventure was a most unhappy result of my careless awkwardness and preoccupation.”
“It was the merest accident. We all quite understand. It is not to be thought of.”
“You are very good to say so, but—”
Both he and Magdalen wished that Vera had not been present, blushing and smiling, or rather simpering; and as Hubert hesitated over his “but,” Magdalen said:
“Vera, my dear, Hubert and I can talk over this better without you. You had better go and find Paula.”
“Only, sister, please do understand that I care for Hubert with all my heart,” said Vera, much less childishly than Magdalen had expected.
However, she went, while Magdalen succeeded in saying what she had intended—that Hubert must not consider himself in the smallest degree bound by what had been accident, entirely unintentional and innocent.
“You are generous, Miss Prescott. You understand! But the world! It was public.”
“Never mind the world. You see what sensible people think.”
“But, indeed, Miss Prescott, I cannot leave you to suppose I am only actuated by the fact of that awkward situation. Of course that would never have been if I did not deeply, entirely love your sister. It has only precipitated matters. I entreat of you to give her to me, as one who is—who is devoted to her! If my station is inferior I will work—”
“That is not the point. Vera is too young for such things. What does your father say?”
“My father sees that I am right.”
“I see what that means,” said Magdalen, smiling. “But where is he? I should like to talk to him.”
Mr. Delrio, pretty well knowing what was going on, was found endeavouring to distract his mind by sketching the Goyle. He and Magdalen walked up and down the drive together, perfectly agreeing that it would be senseless cruelty to permit an early marriage between these two young people, and that it was a pity there should be an engagement; but this could hardly be prevented, since Mr. Delrio could only give advice, and leave a self-supporting worthy son to judge for himself; but the elder sister and the trustee could stipulate for delay till Vera should be of age.
So Hubert was called, and acquiesced, cheerfully observing that he trusted that four years would make him able to render Vera’s life an easy and pleasant one; and after heartily thanking both Miss Prescott and his father, he went off to rejoice the heart of the maiden, who was sitting under the pear-tree, watching with anxious eyes.
