CHAPTER XVII.
LADY MOREHAM SPEAKS.
Tegeloo brought Texas, with the ulsters, and told how he had found thebird cowering in its battered cage, which had been tossed headlong intothe middle of the cabin, where it, fortunately, lodged between thebedsteads, being wedged in so closely as to escape further harm. Thepoor parrot looked sick enough, and was so subdued he came at once toHope's wrist, with none of his usual feints and caprices, nestling upto her in a satisfied manner, as he plaintively muttered, "Poor Texas!Poor little Texas!" in response to her caresses.
Then, after a little, came a new phrase his mistress had long beentrying to teach him, but which, with the obstinacy of his kind, hewould never repeat. It came very softly now, as he tilted about on herwhite wrist, and cocked his head around with a sidelong, upward glance,"_Dear_ Hope!"
"Oh, hear!" she cried delighted. "Isn't that sweet of him? DearTexas! Hope's pretty Texas! Was he nearly frightened to death in thestorm?"
She forgot terror and surrounding discomforts for one minute, the nexther heart stood still, as two sailors entered with a quantity oflife-preservers, and amid rising clamor and confusion, the passengersbegan their preparations for departure by the boats. The storm's furyseemed to have spent itself, and the fiercer noises outside were nolonger audible, only that steady chopping--chopping, that no one reallyunderstood. Perhaps this only intensified the heart-broken sobbings ofthe women and children, and the occasional groanings of strong men, whocould no longer control their sense of helpless misery. Hope, sprangto her feet, her nerves giving way at last. "Oh, this is awful!" shemuttered, turning her head wildly to left and right, like a creaturesuddenly caged. "I begin to feel the fire, Faith--don't you? It isstifling me!"
She was on the point of breaking into a hysterical shriek when a handwas laid upon her arm, and Lady Moreham said quickly,
"No, my child! It is only the closeness after a storm; not the fire.That is far away, and still smothered between walls in the hold. Itmay never break out, if they can get at it before it burns through tothe air. They are working manfully, and will do everything to save us,and your brave father is at their head."
"Oh, if I could see papa! If I could be sure he is safe! He neverthinks of himself where there is danger."
She was trembling all over, and Faith, catching her excitement, pressedcloser, wide-eyed and shivering. Lady Moreham saw that, though theyhad been brave as mature women, so far, they were breaking down underthe strain, unsupported by any older and stronger relative. Theatmosphere was enervating here, and emotion is contagious. Glancingquickly around, she formed her resolution, and throwing an arm aroundeach, said gently,
"Come! I have often heard you speak of the library. We can go thereand be more quiet, and it will give us a better lookout on the forwarddeck. Won't you invite me to go there with you?"
"But papa--if he should look for us here?"
"I will send him a message. Ah, here's Mr. Allyne--have you come totell us something?" for there was a desperate look in the young man's'face that startled her.
"No, only--good-by! They need more help below, and I am going down.You have these young ladies in charge, Madam?"
"Yes. And tell their father he will find the three of us in his owncabin when he needs us." Her eyes, sharp and imperative, questionedhim--"Is there great danger?" But she did not speak.
He bowed gravely, and said, as if in response to her request. "I willtell him." Then, as Hope followed the lady, he gently intercepted her."Please shake hands once more," he said, and with out a word she laidher icy palm to his.
He bowed over it respectfully.
"God bless you for the good, pure girl you are! Good-by."
He hurried out and Hope, dazed and dumb, followed the others. Theyfound the little room, where they had passed so many homelike hours,sadly demoralized. One of the great windows was shivered to splinters,and through it projected a heavy spar, now safely wedged from furtherharm, and as they gazed out through the other great panes, it was upona scene of intense desolation. The deck was quite empty, all the crewbeing busy below, but it was one mass of broken timbers, fallen sails,and all the debris of a half-wrecked vessel. But as the fresh air mettheir faces, it braced them to new courage, and each looked curiouslyabout.
Above, the sky was already clearing and the ragged-edged clouds wererolling northwards, leaving clear spaces which rapidly enlarged. Thesea, black and turbulent, still rolled heavily, but with diminishingmotion, and its spray made everything damp about them. Turning on thelights, Lady Moreham said briskly, "We must have a blanket, orsomething, to shut out the storm. Where will I find one?"
"Right in our room--I'll get it," said Faith, feeling safer and betteralready in the home-like place, and soon the open window was wellcovered, the chairs wiped out and drawn close together, and Hope sankinto one, Texas still clutching her wrist, with a long sigh ofsatisfaction.
"It _seems_ safer here, anyhow!" she murmured. "If papa could only bewith us!"
The lady smiled.
"And I was just thinking how glad I was that he is not here, but that Icould be so certain he was just where he ought to be to insure thesafety of us all. How proud you must be of him, tonight! He is atrue, brave man, and I am proud to call him my friend. Did you know wewere schoolmates together?"
Hope looked up quickly, interested in spite of herself.
"That is it, then? I felt sure there was something, but he alwaysavoided our questions. Was it when you were a young lady."
"No, a little girl. We lived in the same neighborhood."
"You did? Why--but papa lived in America, near Boston."
"So did I."
"Then you _are_ American!" cried the girl, triumphantly.
The lady laughed a little.
"Have you guessed it? Yes, I was born on a small hill farm inMassachusetts, and when a wee child used to trudge, barefooted, acrossour pasture-lot to a little unpainted schoolhouse, on the cross-roads."
"_You_, Lady Moreham?" breathed Faith in amazement.
"Ah, yes, it was I," sighed the lady. "So memory tells me, at least,but I can scarcely believe that the happy, care-free little creature,who chased butterflies, and gathered the trailing arbutus in Spring,and waded through the gorgeous October leaves in Fall, was my wearyself."
"And you really liked being--being--"
My lady laughed out at Hope's embarrassment in framing her question.
"Oh! Didn't I like it? I had two sisters and a brother. One sisterwas a baby, and when the rest of us had done our 'stints' for the day,we used to take her out with us in her little four-wheeled wagon fatherhad made her, and play by the hour--oh, so happily! I used to play atbeing queen, I remember, and make crowns out of burdock burs, stucktogether, setting them on very softly over my curls in the coronationscene, because they pricked me so. But in spite of the hurt I wouldpersist in wearing them. I sometimes wonder, is all that we do inchildhood but a foreshadowing of what is to follow? My crowns havealways cut me cruelly, but pride has kept me wearing them."
She drew herself up quickly, as if she had been thinking aloud, andadded,
"Your grandfather's farm adjoined ours, and your father and I wereplaymates, and great friends. We were seldom separated till later,when I was a strong, rosy-cheeked girl of sixteen and he a strappingyoung lad, with a hankering for the sea. Well, we went our ways--he tosail as cabin-boy in a merchantman, I to journey up to Boston and seekservice with some nice family."
"Service!" murmured Hope, involuntarily.
"It sounds queer, doesn't it? Yes, that was what I expected to do, andI was proud to be able to help at home, for the little farm was notproductive, and the 'lien' on it was heavy. But I did not 'work out,'after all--in that way--my sister, who was now married and living inLynn, found a place for me in the factory there. Like Hannah, I oftenwas seen sitting at the window binding shoes."
"Oh! In Lynn. No wonder you were so interested when we talke
d aboutit."
"You noticed, did you, Brighteyes? Well, there I worked for two years,and there I--married."
She stopped as if done with the subject, and the girls, half-forgetfulof their peril, looked at her in blank disappointment. It is a longstep from a dingy shoe-factory in a New England town to a lordlycountry-seat in Old England, and both had fondly hoped to have itbridged while this communicative mood was on. But the lips had closedsternly, and Lady Moreham, seemingly quite forgetful of her youngauditors, was gazing far away. Faith ventured, at length, to jog herconsciousness.
"You asked me, once, a good deal about Brookline--were you there too?"
The lady nodded, then turned and looked at her with a quizzical glance.
"Ah, child, never be so curious to hear a sad story! Every one hasgriefs enough to bear without appropriating other people's. Yes, wedid live in Brookline for several happy years--my husband and I. Ourhome was the porter's lodge of one of those fine places you used toadmire. We were both young, hopeful, and strong. He was welleducated, but could not endure clerkly confinement, and thought himselffortunate to be so well housed and have such healthy work. He was bornin England, and we used to laugh together because, in some vague way,which we scarcely cared to fully understand, my husband was distantlyrelated to the nobility. That was the phrase--'related to thenobility'--how we used to make fun of it, and pretend to trace out theconnection! Once, at Christmas, I presented him with a family tree,and a peerage-book. The latter was something I had written up myself,and _such_ nonsense, but it made us fun for many weeks. We could laughat anything in those days. Duncan really had no more idea ofinheriting a title and estate at that time than I, a farm-bred girl,had myself. He was a thorough American, who loved his country, andbecause his parents had died and left him alone in the world, he wasall the more helpful and self-reliant. How his eyes used to twinklewhen we sat on our little porch, at evening, as he would say with aflourish, 'Yes, this is all well enough, Anna, but wait till you seeour ancestral halls across the sea!' and then his laugh would ring outlike the boy he was. But it is the unexpected that always happens. Ifwe had counted on any such thing--"
"And after all it came true?" broke in Hope eagerly.
"Yes, it came true." Lady Moreham's voice sank to a sorrowful strain."I shall never forget the day the news came! We had eaten our littlesupper--just the two of us, for we had no children,--and Duncan, afterhis custom, unfolded his newspaper to read, while I took the dishesfrom the table and washed them at the little white sink near by. Iused to hear if there was any news worth the telling, and when he brokeout excitedly, 'Why, Anna, listen to this!' I only turned silently,expecting to hear of some wonderful new invention, for that was a fewyears ago when the marvels of electricity were developing so rapidly,and Duncan was deeply interested in them. Instead, he read anadvertisement, inserted by a London law firm, where his own nameappeared with the usual promise that he would hear of something to hisadvantage, if he would write to their address.
"I went over to him and sat on the arm of his chair, as we discussedit, full of wonder and conjectures, and more in earnest over the fun ofit than any possible advantage it might bring--for God knows, we werehappy enough! We only wanted to be let alone."
She spoke with extreme bitterness, and the girls looked at her,astonished. It was difficult to believe any one could prefer plaincomfort in a porter's lodge to a title and estates.
"But you wrote?" questioned Faith, eager to hear the whole.
"Of course. We were as foolish as all the rest of the world! Wethought happiness and gold and honor the three Graces, instead ofFaith, Hope, and Charity," smiling into the girls' excited faces.
"And isn't happiness?"--began Hope, but she shook her head.
"Not worldly happiness--no. It is too brief, too treacherous. If onelearns to depend upon that, one is doomed to perpetual disappointment.I have long understood that contentment is better than what we callhappiness--much better. Yes, we wrote, laughing together over thepossibility that our ancestral home might be seeking us, but believingnothing of the kind. How we did joke over our united efforts atcomposing it! He was the scholar, but I suggested all sorts oflong-stilted sentences to him, which he modified to suit himself. Heused to think me bright in those days. When it was signed, addressed,and sealed, we looked into each other's eyes.
"'I wonder if we'll ever regret this?' said Duncan, serious for thefirst time. He was always more grave than I, and used often to curb myhigh spirits--who would think it now?
"'Fiddle-faddle! Regret a pot of money, or a Queen's commission asField-marshal?' I asked flippantly.
"'Yet the pot of money might not make us really better off, and theQueen's commission might take me away from you,' he said, and stoopedto kiss me.
"I don't know what came over me, then. A sudden fear seemed tocontract my heart. I caught him about the neck, declaring we could notbe happier than we were.
"'Throw the letter into the fire, Duncan!' I cried. 'It may separateus, and I'd rather have you than all the world besides!' He held meclose a minute, then laughed a little.
"What geese we are! How could anything separate us, if we don't letit? You know very well any advantage would cease to be one the minuteit came between us. We will send the letter, but we will use our ownjudgment about whatever it brings us.'
"So it was sent, and--what is that? Tegeloo, what is it? are we totake to the boats, after all? Why are they shouting so?"
She rose, and the girls after her. Tegeloo, seemingly deprived ofspeech, was motioning wildly at the door leading to the saloon. Theydashed past him into the roomful of people cheering, shouting, crying,praying, and kissing, in a perfect frenzy of relief.
Some one, with a face far blacker than the Hindu boy's, caught eachgirl by the hand.
"Girlies," cried a well-known voice. "We are safe--the fire is out!"Then turning quickly, "Friends, let's sing 'Old Hundred,'--hearty now!"
The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when, as with one impulse,all broke into the grand old measure. Nobody pitched the tune, norstarted it--it started itself! Mrs. Campbell sang it on her knees,with streaming eyes and hair, the captain and his daughters sang itlocked in each other's arms, and the Traveler, seeing Lady Moreham leftmomently alone, clasped her hand in brotherly fashion, and joined hisfine bass to her uncultivated treble, never thinking of discords. Somay the Redeemed some day sing the Doxology in Heavenly courts, safenot only from death, but better still, safe from the life we know ofhere!
When the "Amen," had died into silence the captain said, happily,
"Now, good people, get yourselves to bed as quick as you can. Thestorm is over, the fire is out, and though the poor old girl is sobattered up she's lost her beauty, her heart's still in the rightplace--her engines are working all right, in spite of the cyclone! Nowhustle, every one of you--breakfast won't be served till teno'clock--and Heaven bless and keep us all!"
All Aboard: A Story for Girls Page 17
