CHAPTER XL
AN UNEXPECTED MESSENGER
After this agitation, and these partial confidences, no more wassaid on the subject of Philip for many weeks. They avoided even theslightest allusion to him; and none of them knew how seldom or howoften he might be present in the minds of the others.
One day the little Bella was unusually fractious with some slightchildish indisposition, and Sylvia was obliged to have recourse to anever-failing piece of amusement; namely, to take the child into theshop, when the number of new, bright-coloured articles was sure tobeguile the little girl out of her fretfulness. She was walkingalong the high terrace of the counter, kept steady by her mother'shand, when Mr. Dawson's market-cart once more stopped before thedoor. But it was not Mrs. Brunton who alighted now; it was a verysmartly-dressed, very pretty young lady, who put one dainty footbefore the other with care, as if descending from such a primitivevehicle were a new occurrence in her life. Then she looked up at thenames above the shop-door, and after ascertaining that this wasindeed the place she desired to find, she came in blushing.
'Is Mrs. Hepburn at home?' she asked of Hester, whose position in theshop brought her forwards to receive the customers, while Sylviadrew Bella out of sight behind some great bales of red flannel.
'Can I see her?' the sweet, south-country voice went on, stilladdressing Hester. Sylvia heard the inquiry, and came forwards, witha little rustic awkwardness, feeling both shy and curious.
'Will yo' please walk this way, ma'am?' said she, leading hervisitor back into her own dominion of the parlour, and leaving Bellato Hester's willing care.
'You don't know me!' said the pretty young lady, joyously. 'But Ithink you knew my husband. I am Mrs. Kinraid!'
A sob of surprise rose to Sylvia's lips--she choked it down,however, and tried to conceal any emotion she might feel, in placinga chair for her visitor, and trying to make her feel welcome,although, if the truth must be told, Sylvia was wondering all thetime why her visitor came, and how soon she would go.
'You knew Captain Kinraid, did you not?' said the young lady, withinnocent inquiry; to which Sylvia's lips formed the answer, 'Yes,'but no clear sound issued therefrom.
'But I know your husband knew the captain; is he at home yet? Can Ispeak to him? I do so want to see him.'
Sylvia was utterly bewildered; Mrs. Kinraid, this pretty, joyous,prosperous little bird of a woman, Philip, Charley's wife, whatcould they have in common? what could they know of each other? Allshe could say in answer to Mrs. Kinraid's eager questions, and stillmore eager looks, was, that her husband was from home, had been longfrom home: she did not know where he was, she did not know when hewould come back.
Mrs. Kinraid's face fell a little, partly from her own realdisappointment, partly out of sympathy with the hopeless,indifferent tone of Sylvia's replies.
'Mrs. Dawson told me he had gone away rather suddenly a year ago, butI thought he might be come home by now. I am expecting the captainearly next month. Oh! how I should have liked to see Mr. Hepburn, andto thank him for saving the captain's life!'
'What do yo' mean?' asked Sylvia, stirred out of all assumedindifference. 'The captain! is that' (not 'Charley', she could notuse that familiar name to the pretty young wife before her) 'yo'rhusband?'
'Yes, you knew him, didn't you? when he used to be staying with MrCorney, his uncle?'
'Yes, I knew him; but I don't understand. Will yo' please to tell meall about it, ma'am?' said Sylvia, faintly.
'I thought your husband would have told you all about it; I hardlyknow where to begin. You know my husband is a sailor?'
Sylvia nodded assent, listening greedily, her heart beating thickall the time.
'And he's now a Commander in the Royal Navy, all earned by his ownbravery! Oh! I am so proud of him!'
So could Sylvia have been if she had been his wife; as it was, shethought how often she had felt sure that he would be a great mansome day.
'And he has been at the siege of Acre.'
Sylvia looked perplexed at these strange words, and Mrs. Kinraidcaught the look.
'St Jean d'Acre, you know--though it's fine saying "you know", whenI didn't know a bit about it myself till the captain's ship wasordered there, though I was the head girl at Miss Dobbin's in thegeography class--Acre is a seaport town, not far from Jaffa, whichis the modern name for Joppa, where St Paul went to long ago; you'veread of that, I'm sure, and Mount Carmel, where the prophet Elijahwas once, all in Palestine, you know, only the Turks have got itnow?'
'But I don't understand yet,' said Sylvia, plaintively; 'I daresayit's all very true about St Paul, but please, ma'am, will yo' tellme about yo'r husband and mine--have they met again?'
'Yes, at Acre, I tell you,' said Mrs. Kinraid, with pretty petulance.'The Turks held the town, and the French wanted to take it; and we,that is the British Fleet, wouldn't let them. So Sir Sidney Smith, acommodore and a great friend of the captain's, landed in order tofight the French; and the captain and many of the sailors landedwith him; and it was burning hot; and the poor captain was wounded,and lay a-dying of pain and thirst within the enemy's--that is theFrench--fire; so that they were ready to shoot any one of his ownside who came near him. They thought he was dead himself, you see,as he was very near; and would have been too, if your husband hadnot come out of shelter, and taken him up in his arms or on his back(I couldn't make out which), and carried him safe within the walls.'
'It couldn't have been Philip,' said Sylvia, dubiously.
'But it was. The captain says so; and he's not a man to be mistaken.I thought I'd got his letter with me; and I would have read you apart of it, but I left it at Mrs. Dawson's in my desk; and I can'tsend it to you,' blushing as she remembered certain passages inwhich 'the captain' wrote very much like a lover, 'or else I would.But you may be quite sure it was your husband that ventured into allthat danger to save his old friend's life, or the captain would nothave said so.'
'But they weren't--they weren't--not to call great friends.'
'I wish I'd got the letter here; I can't think how I could be sostupid; I think I can almost remember the very words, though--I'veread them over so often. He says, "Just as I gave up all hope, I sawone Philip Hepburn, a man whom I had known at Monkshaven, and whom Ihad some reason to remember well"--(I'm sure he says so--"rememberwell"), "he saw me too, and came at the risk of his life to where Ilay. I fully expected he would be shot down; and I shut my eyes notto see the end of my last chance. The shot rained about him, and Ithink he was hit; but he took me up and carried me under cover." I'msure he says that, I've read it over so often; and he goes on andsays how he hunted for Mr. Hepburn all through the ships, as soon asever he could; but he could hear nothing of him, either alive ordead. Don't go so white, for pity's sake!' said she, suddenlystartled by Sylvia's blanching colour. 'You see, because he couldn'tfind him alive is no reason for giving him up as dead; because hisname wasn't to be found on any of the ships' books; so the captainthinks he must have been known by a different name to his real one.Only he says he should like to have seen him to have thanked him;and he says he would give a deal to know what has become of him; andas I was staying two days at Mrs. Dawson's, I told them I must comeover to Monkshaven, if only for five minutes, just to hear if yourgood husband was come home, and to shake his hands, that helped tosave my own dear captain.'
'I don't think it could have been Philip,' reiterated Sylvia.
'Why not?' asked her visitor; 'you say you don't know where he is;why mightn't he have been there where the captain says he was?'
'But he wasn't a sailor, nor yet a soldier.'
'Oh! but he was. I think somewhere the captain calls him a marine;that's neither one nor the other, but a little of both. He'll becoming home some day soon; and then you'll see!'
Alice Rose came in at this minute, and Mrs. Kinraid jumped to theconclusion that she was Sylvia's mother, and in her overflowinggratitude and friendliness to all the family of him who had 'savedthe captain' she went forward, and shook the ol
d woman's hand inthat pleasant confiding way that wins all hearts.
'Here's your daughter, ma'am!' said she to the half-astonished,half-pleased Alice. 'I'm Mrs. Kinraid, the wife of the captain thatused to be in these parts, and I'm come to bring her news of herhusband, and she don't half believe me, though it's all to hiscredit, I'm sure.'
Alice looked so perplexed that Sylvia felt herself bound to explain.
'She says he's either a soldier or a sailor, and a long way off atsome place named in t' Bible.'
'Philip Hepburn led away to be a soldier!' said she, 'who had oncebeen a Quaker?'
'Yes, and a very brave one too, and one that it would do my heartgood to look upon,' exclaimed Mrs. Kinraid. 'He's been saving myhusband's life in the Holy Land, where Jerusalem is, you know.'
'Nay!' said Alice, a little scornfully. 'I can forgive Sylvia fornot being over keen to credit thy news. Her man of peace becoming aman of war; and suffered to enter Jerusalem, which is a heavenly anda typical city at this time; while me, as is one of the elect, isobliged to go on dwelling in Monkshaven, just like any other body.'
'Nay, but,' said Mrs. Kinraid, gently, seeing she was touching ondelicate ground, 'I did not say he had gone to Jerusalem, but myhusband saw him in those parts, and he was doing his duty like abrave, good man; ay, and more than his duty; and, you may take myword for it, he'll be at home some day soon, and all I beg is thatyou'll let the captain and me know, for I'm sure if we can, we'llboth come and pay our respects to him. And I'm very glad I've seenyou,' said she, rising to go, and putting out her hand to shake thatof Sylvia; 'for, besides being Hepburn's wife, I'm pretty sure I'veheard the captain speak of you; and if ever you come to Bristol Ihope you'll come and see us on Clifton Downs.'
She went away, leaving Sylvia almost stunned by the new ideaspresented to her. Philip a soldier! Philip in a battle, risking hislife. Most strange of all, Charley and Philip once more meetingtogether, not as rivals or as foes, but as saviour and saved! Add toall this the conviction, strengthened by every word that happy,loving wife had uttered, that Kinraid's old, passionate love forherself had faded away and vanished utterly: its very existenceapparently blotted out of his memory. She had torn up her love forhim by the roots, but she felt as if she could never forget that ithad been.
Hester brought back Bella to her mother. She had not liked tointerrupt the conversation with the strange lady before; and now shefound her mother in an obvious state of excitement; Sylvia quieterthan usual.
'That was Kinraid's wife, Hester! Him that was th' specksioneer asmade such a noise about t' place at the time of Darley's death. He'snow a captain--a navy captain, according to what she says. And she'dfain have us believe that Philip is abiding in all manner ofScripture places; places as has been long done away with, but thesimilitude whereof is in the heavens, where the elect shall one daysee them. And she says Philip is there, and a soldier, and that hesaved her husband's life, and is coming home soon. I wonder whatJohn and Jeremiah 'll say to his soldiering then? It'll noane be totheir taste, I'm thinking.'
This was all very unintelligible to Hester, and she would dearlyhave liked to question Sylvia; but Sylvia sate a little apart, withBella on her knee, her cheek resting on her child's golden curls,and her eyes fixed and almost trance-like, as if she were seeingthings not present.
So Hester had to be content with asking her mother as manyelucidatory questions as she could; and after all did not gain avery clear idea of what had really been said by Mrs. Kinraid, as hermother was more full of the apparent injustice of Philip's beingallowed the privilege of treading on holy ground--if, indeed, thatholy ground existed on this side heaven, which she was inclined todispute--than to confine herself to the repetition of words, ornarration of facts.
Suddenly Sylvia roused herself to a sense of Hester's deep interestand balked inquiries, and she went over the ground rapidly.
'Yo'r mother says right--she is his wife. And he's away fighting;and got too near t' French as was shooting and firing all round him;and just then, according to her story, Philip saw him, and wentstraight into t' midst o' t' shots, and fetched him out o' danger.That's what she says, and upholds.'
'And why should it not be?' asked Hester, her cheek flushing.
But Sylvia only shook her head, and said,
'I cannot tell. It may be so. But they'd little cause to be friends,and it seems all so strange--Philip a soldier, and them meetingtheere after all!'
Hester laid the story of Philip's bravery to her heart--she fullybelieved in it. Sylvia pondered it more deeply still; the causes forher disbelief, or, at any rate, for her wonder, were unknown toHester! Many a time she sank to sleep with the picture of the eventnarrated by Mrs. Kinraid as present to her mind as her imagination orexperience could make it: first one figure prominent, then another.Many a morning she wakened up, her heart beating wildly, why, sheknew not, till she shuddered at the remembrance of the scenes thathad passed in her dreams: scenes that might be acted in reality thatvery day; for Philip might come back, and then?
And where was Philip all this time, these many weeks, these heavilypassing months?
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