CHAPTER TWELVE.
"HOMEWARD BOUND."
There's Jack has made a wondrous marriage; There's laughing Tom is laughing yet; There's brave Augustus drives his carriage; There's poor old Fred in the "Gazette;" On James's head the grass is growing; Good Lord! the world has wagged apace Since here we set the claret flowing, And drank, and ate the Bouillabaisse.
Min's letters! Ah, how I expected them, awaited them, devoured them!--from the first tender response that came in answer to mine, to the lastlittle darling oblong-enveloped, dainty hand-written missive Ireceived--ere I shook off the dust of the "Empire City" from my New-World-wearied feet, and left Sandy Hook behind me!
It would be a vain task, should I attempt to describe to you the agonyof suspense in which I watched every week for the arrival of theEuropean mail; for, I'm sure, that Sir Samuel Cunard himself could nothave evinced so deep an interest in the safety of his steamers as I did;no, not even if they had been uninsured, and the underwriters declinedall offers of "risk" premiums, be they never so high and tempting!
Long before the regular _Scotia_, the _Java_, or the _Russia_ could, intheir several turns, possibly have achieved the ocean passage, I was onthe look out for them; prophesying all manner of disasters in the eventof their being delayed; and overjoyed, with a frenzied rapture, shouldthey be signalled in advance of their anticipated time! And then, whenthey had glided up New York Bay and anchored in the Hudson, how rapidlywould my eager impatience bear me to the dingy old Post office "downtown," where I would sometimes have to wait for hours before the letterswere sorted and delivered!
Should there be none for me, I was in despair--imagining all the variouscalamities, probable and improbable, that might have happened--althoughI might have heard from England only a few days previously; while,should I obtain a dearly-prized note from my darling, I was in ecstasy--only to be on the look out for the next mail a moment afterwards!
I was never satisfied.
I remember an official in the Ann Street Bureau asking me one day, whatmade me "so almight lonesome" about the "old country;" and "guessing,"when I took no notice of his question, that I had "a young woman overthe water."
Young woman, indeed! If looks could kill, that inquisitive and ill-mannered person was a dead man on the spot!
I never heard anything so impertinent in my life!
Her letters!
I could almost see, as I read them, the dear, earnest, soul-lit greyeyes, gazing once more into mine; the loving little hand that pennedeach darling sentence. In fancy, I could mark the changing expressionsthat swept across the sweet Madonna face, whose every line I knew sowell, as, down-bent on the rustling paper, some sad or happyrecollection filled her mind for awhile, in detailing those littleevents of her daily life which she related to please me. She wrote tome easily and naturally, just as if she were talking to me--the greatestcharm a letter can have. The written words appeared to speak out to mein silvery intonations and musical rhythm:--the very violet ink seemedscented with her breath!
Dear little Miss Pimpernell had endeavoured to satisfy, as far as shewas able, the longing cravings of my heart for any intelligence aboutMin--how she was looking, if she saw her often, did she think of me, ifshe was happy or miserable at my absence; but, how little could herbudgets compare with the letters I now got regularly, once a fortnightat least, from Min herself--the fountain-head of all my desires!
She told me everything--where she went, what she did, even what shethought--in simple, artless language that made me know her better, inthe thorough workings of her nature, than during those long months ofour intimacy at home.
I had plenty of news, too; besides information, on sundry little points,which was only of interest to us two.
Nothing passed in Saint Canon's with which I was not made acquainted;and, I now learnt much that Miss Pimpernell had not told, or which I hadbeen unable to make out and understand, through the difficulties I metwith in the dear old lady's penmanship.
Her writing resembled more the intricate movements of a particularlysharp-legged and frisky spider, previously dipped in very pale ink, overthe pages she laboured at so painstakingly for my benefit, than anyordinary calligraphy! _She_, however, believed it especially neat andintelligible; and, I would not have undeceived the dear old soul for theworld!
In one instance, she had mentioned--so I deciphered the intelligence--something about Horner marrying, as I thought, Lizzie Dangler; but, Inow found out from Min, that my Downing Street friend was _engaged_only, not married; and, that the object of his choice was SeraphineDasher, instead of the former young lady--the error being easilyexplainable in the fact, that all of Miss Pimpernell's capital letters,with the exception of her "B's" and "H's," bore a close familyresemblance to each other; while, the remaining components of her wordswere composed of a single dash, and besides that, nothing. Hence, arosethe mistake of my confounding the two names, both of which commencedwith a "D"--which it was a wonder that I saw at all, it being MissPimpernell's weakest capital!
But, I knew now who had really got the handkerchief thrown by the Sultanof Downing Street; while Lizzie Dangler was yet free to bless some moresagacious swain. So, also, was lisping, little, flaxen-haired BabyBlake, whom I had believed much more likely to capture Horner than theSeraph, as she was always chaffing him and making light of hisattentions.
However, girls are so deceptive, that, unless you are let into thesecret, you can never find out the happy individuals whom they reallyfavour. We men folk, on the contrary, soon contrive to exhibit thestate of our feelings to unsympathising outsiders, who laugh at us andderide us thereanent! We are "creatures of impulse:"--they, the mostbarefaced little dissimulators possible!
Fancy, Horner being married, though!
"Bai-ey Je-ove!" It would be, to me, well-nigh incredible!
Fancy his "popping the question" to Seraphine--who, I'm positive, musthave giggled in his face when that interesting operation was gonethrough; and, then, his subsequent interview with Lady Dasher, whoprobably detailed for his instruction, how her "poor dear papa" hadacted on a similar memorable occasion!
I should only like to learn how many times his eye-glass was reallyappealed to, to help him out of a sentence; and, how frequently he said"Ba-iey Je-ove!" before the whole thing was arranged and his mind set atease!
The marriage was to take place very soon--really, all of ouracquaintances were getting married, and having their courses of truelove to run smoothly for them, unlike Min and I!
After the ceremony was over between these twain, I was told that LadyDasher--who, now that her two daughters would be "off her hands," nolonger had any necessity to keep up a separate establishment--was tomove from The Terrace, with her fuchsias and other belongings, and takeup her residence for the future with her first son-in-law, Mr Mawley;the curate being now ensconced in that villa, whose furnishing by oldShuffler, lang syne, had caused me so much jealousy and grief!
Ah! This _was_ news.
I chuckled immensely over the idea of the relict of the gin distillersettling down like a wet blanket on the connubial couch of the curate!
Whenever the ghost of "poor dear papa," in a reminiscential form, wasmade to walk the earth again, I would be avenged for all the quips andjibes which Mawley had formerly selected me to receive! He would meetwith an antagonist now, worthy of his carping, critical metal! I wishedhim joy of the situation!
Mawley and Lady Dasher together in one house, permanently!
I say no more.
Is it not strange how you may live on and live on in some quiet countryspot, or retired suburb, without anything ever occurring to vary thedull monotony of its even existence; and yet, the moment you go awayfrom this whilom, stagnant neighbourhood--which you had got to believewas everlastingly unchangeable--change then succeeds change withstartling rapidity:--as you at a distance hear from those friends whomyou had left behind--to simmer on there, as you had simmered on, untilthe end of the chapter?
Of course, from having become more interested with the deeds and designsof those actors that might be connected with the new scenes amidst whichyou may now be situated, you will not attach such importance to theseevents as you would probably have done had you been yet living on in thetime-honoured routine of your old abiding-place. They are to you, atpresent, only so many little fly-blows on the scroll of time, so tospeak. But, there was a period when you would have regarded them as ofthe utmost moment; and when, the deaths of people whom you thought wouldnever die, the marriages of those that seemed the most unlikely subjectsfor matrimony, the flittings of persons of the "oldest inhabitant"class--that you calculated would stick-on there for ever, and theirreplacement by the advent of new families, whom you would have supposedto be the last in the world to settle down in the locality in question--would have been matters of nine days' wonderment.
It was so now with myself in, regard to Saint Canon's.
Horner's engagement, Lady Dasher's contemplated removal, the idea of thecurate's incubus--all of which would have once filled me with surprise,astonishment, delight--I only looked upon with half-amused interest.
Even the intelligence that Miss Spight had joined the sisterhoodorganised by Brother Ignatius, hardly affected me as it would formerlyhave done.
I belonged to another world now, as it were; and, the announcements ofbirths--Mrs Mawley had already presented her lord and master with alittle pledge of her affection--and bridals, and burials, at the twolast of which I might once have assisted, hardly awoke a passinginterest in me!
I was too far removed from the orbit in which these phenomena weredisplayed.
I felt that there were not many now in whom I felt concern at SaintCanon's.
No exceptions, you ask?
Certainly, there were exceptions.
I am astonished at your making the observation.
How could I otherwise "prove the rule," eh?
Min told me that Monsieur Parole d'Honneur was as gay and as full ofanecdote as of yore. She also told me, too, that the kind-heartedFrenchman having chanced to meet her out one day, long before she hadbeen able to hear from me directly, had, in the most delicately-diplomatic way, led the conversation round to America, so that he mighttell her that I was not only well, but doing well!
This was at the time I had written a rapturous note to him, after myfirst interview with my friend, "Brown of Philadelphia,"--before, youmay be tolerably certain, that philanthropical polisher had "sloped toTexas" with the capital Parole d'Honneur endowed me with.
He did not mention that latter fact of his generosity to Min, however;but, she knew of it, for I told her of it when we parted, and she thensaid that she thanked him in her heart for his kindness to me, and wouldalways "love" him for it--so she said!
The vicar and Miss Pimpernell--also "exceptions,"--I heard, were just asusual; the former as much liked as ever by rich and poor alike, in theparish; the latter, trotting about still, with her big basket andcreature comforts for those whom she spiritually visited.
Old Shuffler, too, wobbled on, as he had wobbled on as far back as Icould recollect, Min told me; and rolled his sound eye, and stared withhis glass one, as glassily as then.
I heard also that "Dicky Chips" was as frolicsome and light-hearted abullfinch as when Min first had him, and had learnt several new tricks.
But, poor old Catch--my dog--whom I had so loved, had died in myabsence; not from old age, for he was but young, having only seen hisfifth birthday; but, "full of honours," as every one liked him andrespected him who knew of his sagacity and faithfulness, and saw hishonest brown eyes and handsome high cast head.
Dear old doggy!
I had had him from the time he was a month old; and he and I had hardlyever been, parted from that time until I went to America.
He used to accompany me wherever I went, by day; and sleep across myroom door at night.
He never had had a harsh word from me but once, that I remember; and,that was respecting a certain little matter connected with a straysheep, about which we happened to differ on the occasion.
Poor Catch! I can fancy I hear his eager bark now. It was a welcome towhich I looked forward on my return to England, as only secondary to thepleasure I would have in meeting Min; and, I confess, when I heard ofhis loss, I mourned him more than I had ever mourned one whom the worldcalls "friend," before. He was faithful always; changing never. Howmany reputed "friends" will you find to act thus?
I think that Lord Byron's recollection of his trusty dog must haveabsolved him from a hundred character blots. Do you remember thoselines he wrote to the memory of "Boatswain," on the monument he erectedin his honour at Newstead Abbey? I would like them on Catch's tomb, ifI only knew where the dear old fellow lies; for, what "Boatswain" was toByron, so was he to me:--
"In life the foremost friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend, Whose honest heart is still his master's own, Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth, Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth!"
Min's news did not come all at once.
It was spread over an expanse of many months, during which I wasrambling over the States;--reporting this speaker and that;--studying"life and character" in every way--from the inspection of negro camp-meetings, where coloured saints expounded doctrinal views that wouldhave made Wilberforce shudder, to participating in a presidentialelection, wherein I had the opportunity of seeing the inherentrottenness of the Transatlantic "institution" thoroughly exposed.
When I was thus bustling about, amidst so many varied phases of life, Icould not very well sympathise with the quiet doings of Saint Canon's.
But, on my return to my Brooklyn lodgings, when once more appointed toregular newspaper work at the office of the journal with which I wasconnected in New York, the old home longings returned also as strong asever--stronger, as time went on!
I got in the habit of again marking my almanack, as Robinson Crusoenotched his post, every day; saying to myself the while, that I wasbrought one day nearer to my darling as the sun went down; one daynearer as it rose on the morrow:--one day nearer to the date of my exilebeing ended!
I remained in America much longer than I intended.
However, as Mrs Clyde did not carry out her threat of closing ourcorrespondence at the end of the first year of our quasi-engagement, Ihad still Min's dear letters to encourage me and cheer me on.
I do not know what I should have done without them.
There was no benefit to be derived from my going back until theGovernment appointment, which the vicar had the promise of for me,should be vacant. But, this, the wretched old gentleman who continuedto hold it, would not give up until he reached the age ofsuperannuation, when he would be forced to retire--in which respect hewas not unlike many old field officers in the army, and "flag" ditto inthe navy, who _will_ persist in remaining on the "active list" of bothservices long past the age of usefulness, to the prevention of youngermen from getting on!
O "seniority!"
Thou art the curse of all classes of officialdom in England--"civil" and"military" alike!
By-and-by, however, when my patience had become exhausted, and I wasseriously thinking of starting home with the few hundred dollars I hadmade on the American press, the vicar wrote for me to come.
The old gentleman--might his "shadow never be less," I devoutly wished--had betaken himself to his plough after an arduous official service offorty years. He only retired, however, because he received a pensionamounting to his full salary, for which he had striven and kept me outof his shoes so long. Putting the thought of this on one side, thesecretaryship was now mine, as soon as I arrived to claim it--the soonerthat was, the better, the vicar added, as if I needed any stimulus toreturn to home and my darling!
What a delightful, darling letter Min sent to me, too!
She told me that I was to start off immediately--"at once, sir,"--onreceipt of her tender little missive. She was expecting
me, looking forme, awaiting me!
She had learnt all the songs I liked; had prepared the dresses in whichI had said she looked best; would greet me, oh, so gladly!
I was to keep my promise and arrive on Christmas-eve, when her motherwould be happy to see me; and she--well, she didn't know yet whether_she_ would speak to me or not:--it, really, depended whether I was"good!"
I took my passage in a steamer leaving the next day; but, instead ofgetting home on Christmas-eve, I only arrived at Liverpool a day beforethe close of the year--six days late! However, I was in England atlast, in the same dear land that held my darling; and she would forgiveme, I knew, when she saw how glad I was to get back to her dear littleself. "Naughty Frank!" she would say--"I won't speak to you at all,sir!"
And, wouldn't she?
Oh, dear no!
All the way up to town from the fair city on the Mersey, the railwaynymphs, whom I had previously noticed on my journey to Southampton, wereas busy as then, with their musical strains.
The burden of their present song, echoing through my heart, was,--
"Going to see Min! Going to see Min! Going to see Min, without delay! Going to see Min! Going to see Min! Soon! Soon!! Soon!!"
The last bars chiming in when the buffers joined the chorus with a"jolt, jolt, jolt."
As the train glided, at length--after some six hours of reeling andbumping and puffing along, the railway nymphs never slackening theirsong for an instant, into the Euston-square station--I saw the kindvicar and dear little Miss Pimpernell awaiting me on the platform.
It was just like their usual kindness to come and meet me thus!
I had telegraphed to them from Liverpool, telling them the time when Imight hope to be in London; and, there they were to the minute, althoughI had never expected them, having only informed them of my coming, inorder that they might let my darling know that I was on my way to her.
I jumped out of the carriage before it stopped, in defiance of all thecompany's bye-laws; and, advanced to clasp their outstretched hands.But--
What was it, that I could read in the grave kind face of the one, theglad yet sorrowful eyes of the other, before a word had passed on eitherside? What was it, that congealed the flood of joyful questionings,with which I went forward to meet them, in an icy lump pressing downupon my brain; and, that snapped a chord in my heart that has nevervibrated since?
Min was dead!
She and I, Volume 2 Page 12
