The Jolliest School of All

by Angela Brazil

  CHAPTER XXI

  The Blue Grotto

  Very early on Saturday morning Mr. Carson returned to Capri in asailing vessel, having taken advantage of a night crossing and arrivingwith the dawn. Lorna had bidden her friends a temporary good-by for theweek-end, refusing all kind invitations of "bring your father to seeus," or "tell him he must join the Clan." She felt that her excuses forhim were of the flimsiest; she said he was tired, unwell, and neededabsolute rest and solitude, and begged them to forgive her if she spentthe time with him alone, and, though they replied that they couldunderstand his desire for quiet, she was conscious that they thought shemight at least have volunteered an introduction. Lorna knew only toowell that, if her father was aware there was the slightest danger ofmeeting English people, he would probably insist upon taking the nextboat back to Naples; it was the consciousness of complete isolation thatgave the value to his holiday. She told him indeed that she had met someof her school friends and had taken walks with them, but she mentionedthat they were staying down below, nearer the Marina, and that they werenot in the least likely to come up to the Casa Verdi.

  "Let us take our books, Daddy," she suggested, "and go and sit on thehillside as we did last Sunday. It was quiet on that ledge of the crag,and away from everybody. The rest did you good, and I'm sure you enjoyedit."

  Lying on the cliff among the flowers, with blue sky above and blue seabeneath, poor Mr. Carson allowed himself a temporary relaxation. Hesmoked his pipe and read his paper, and for a little while at least thehard lines round his mouth softened, and his anxious eyes grew easy. Hefinished his Italian journal, lay idly watching the scenery, chatted,dozed, and finally stretched out his hand for one of Lorna's books. Ithappened to be an Anthology of Poetry which Irene had lent her, andwhich contained one of the ballads that Mrs. Cameron had recited to theassembled Clan. It had struck Lorna's fancy, and she was trying to learnit by heart. Mr. Carson turned over the pages, read a few of the pieces,and was closing the little volume when his eye chanced to light upon thename written on the title page. Its effect upon him was like a charge ofelectricity.

  "David Beverley," he gasped. "David Beverley! Lorna! Great Heavens! Byall that's sacred, where did you get this?"

  "'BY ALL THAT'S SACRED, WHERE DID YOU GET THIS BOOK?'"

  --_Page 304_]

  "Why, Dad! What's the matter? Irene lent me the book. It belongs to herfather."

  "Her father! You don't mean to tell me your friend's father is DavidBeverley?"

  "Why not, Dad," whispered Lorna, looking with apprehension into hishaggard, excited face.

  She guessed even before he spoke what the answer was going to be.

  "David Beverley is the man who ruined my life!"

  The blow which had fallen was utterly overwhelming. For a moment Lornafought against the knowledge like a drowning man battling with thewaters.

  "Oh, Dad! Surely there's some mistake. It _can't_ be! Isn't it someother Beverley perhaps?"

  "I know his writing only too well. There's no possibility of a mistake.Besides, I saw him in Naples--at the end of February. I haven'tforgotten the shock it gave me. Why," turning almost fiercely uponLorna, "didn't you tell me your schoolfellow's name before? Have you allthis time been making friends with your father's enemy?"

  "I thought I'd often talked about Renie," faltered poor Lorna. "PerhapsI never mentioned her surname. Oh, Dad! Dad! Is it really true? It's toohorrible to be believed."

  Lying in the soft Capri grass, with the pink cistus flowers brushingher hot cheeks, Lorna raged impotently against the tragedy of a fatewhich was changing the dearest friendship of her life into a feud.Irene!--the only one at school who had sympathized and understood her,who had behaved with a delicacy and kindness such as no other person hadever shown her, who had taken her into her home circle and given her thehappiest time she had ever had in her shadowed girlhood; Irene with hermerry gray eyes and her bright sunny hair, the very incarnation ofwarm-hearted genuine affection--Irene, her roommate, her buddy, herchosen confidante. How was it possible ever to regard her as an enemy?Yet had she not vowed a solemn oath to hate all belonging to the man whohad so desperately injured them? Oh! The world seemed turning upsidedown. Loyalty to her father and love for her friend dragged differentways, and in the bitter conflict her heart was torn in two.

  Mr. Carson, haunted to the verge of insanity by the terror of discovery,was now obsessed with the one idea of escape from Mr. Beverley. He nolonger felt safe on the island. Any moment he dreaded to meet faces thatwould betray recognition of his past. The calm and content of his visitwere utterly shattered, and a sudden violent impulse urged him to returnto Naples.

  "Capri is not large enough to hold myself and David Beverley," hedeclared. "We'll go back by the night boat, Lorna. Meantime we'll borrowSignor Verdi's skiff and paddle about among the rocks. I feel easier onwater than on land. I like the sense of a space of ocean round me. Youcan't suddenly meet a man when you've plenty of sea-room, can you?"

  "No, no, Dad!" said Lorna, trying to soothe him. "We can walk down thesteps to the cove and get the skiff, and be quite away from everybodyonce we are on the sea."

  She was ready to humor his every whim, for in the blackness of hertrouble nothing seemed at present to really matter. The whirling eddiesof her thoughts rushed through her brain in a perpetual series ofquestions and answers. Must hate strike the death knell of love? Surelythe only thing to do with an injury is to forgive it. Would revenge wipeout the wrong or in any way solve anything? No, there would only be onemore wrong done in the world, to go on in ever-widening circles ofhatred and misery. Curses, like chickens, come home to roost, and"getting even" may bring its own punishment.

  "Our only chance is to go away and start afresh in a new country," shesobbed. "At the other side of the Pacific we might forget--but no!Renie! Renie! If I go to the back of beyond I shan't forget you, and allyou've been to me. The memory of you, darling, will last until the endof my life."

  Mr. Carson found Signor Verdi working in his allotment, obtained leavefrom him to use the skiff, and climbing down the flight of steep stepscut in the rock, reached the cove where the boat was beached on theshingle. He had been an expert oarsman from his college days, andunderstood Neapolitan waters, so in a short time he and Lorna wereskimming gently over the surface of the blue sea, keeping well away fromrocks and out of currents, but within reasonable distance of the land.Sometimes they rowed and sometimes they drifted, hardly caring in whatdirection they steered so long as they circled round the island. Theironly object was to stop out on the sea, and, as they had brought apicnic basket with them, there was nothing to urge their return untilsunset. In the course of the afternoon they had coasted below MonteSolaro, and found themselves approaching the entrance that led to theBlue Grotto. In the mornings, when the steamer brought its crowd oftourists, there was generally quite a little fleet of skiffs to be seenhere, but now, with the exception of a solitary boat, the famous cavernwas deserted. To avoid passing too near to even this one craft Mr.Carson steered away from the shore, but turned his head inconsternation, for loud and unmistakable cries of "help" were ringingover the water, and the occupants, frantically waving handkerchiefs,were evidently doing their utmost to attract his attention. Commonhumanity demanded that he must at least go and see what was the matter,so he reluctantly altered his course.

  In a boat close to the entrance of the grotto were several young people,and Lorna instantly recognized Angus, Stewart, Jess, Michael, andPeachy. They appeared in much anxiety, and directly they were withinhailing distance they called out their news:

  "Mr. Beverley and Vincent and Irene have gone inside the grotto, andthey don't seem able to get out again. We can hear them shouting forhelp."

  The party, in their British imprudence, had not brought a boatman, andthey were uncertain what to do. Their own barque was too large to gothrough the narrow opening into the cavern, and they looked hopefully atMr. Carson's little skiff.

  "We don't know what's happened,"
gulped Jess.

  "They went in to explore the Roman passage."

  "Just by themselves."

  "They've been gone such a long time," volunteered the others.

  "Listen," said Peachy.

  For from out the low entrance of the grotto floated a faint far-offechoing ghost of a shout.

  Lorna glanced imploringly at her father. He did not hesitate for amoment. The man who had injured him was inside the cavern, perhaps indeadly danger, and he was going to risk his own life and his daughter'sto save him. And risk there undoubtedly was. A breeze had arisen andagitated the surface of the water, so that the ingress was smaller thanever and more difficult to compass. When waves lashed the tidelessMediterranean even the Capri fishermen shunned entering the grotto, forthey knew its perils only too well. Telling Lorna to lie flat on herback Mr. Carson took the same position, and with infinite difficultymanaged to maneuver the skiff into the rocky entrance. There was barelyroom, for each wave bumped it against the roof, but by clinging to thechain he worked his way along and shot through into the lake within. Onthe right of the cavern three figures, holding a light, stood on a kindof landing-place, while a skiff drifting far off in the shadows told itsown tale.

  Mr. Carson rowed at once to retrieve the truant boat, and towed it backto its owners.

  "We thought we had tied it securely," explained Mr. Beverley. "We wereutterly aghast when we came back and found it had drifted. It would havebeen a horrible experience to stay here all night. If the sea rose wemight even have been imprisoned for days. We were fools to come, but Ididn't realize the danger."

  "The sea is much rougher already," said Mr. Carson. "It'll be a ticklishmatter to get out again, and the sooner we do it the better. Will you gofirst and I'll follow on after?"

  "It's like you, Lorna, to come to rescue us. I always called you my goodangel," choked Irene, as she entered the skiff. "I thought just now Iwas never going to see you again in this world. Let's get out of thishorrible place as fast as we can. It's like Dante's Inferno. I've neverbeen so frightened in all my life."

  One after the other the two skiffs started on their risky exit from thegrotto, scraping and bumping against the roof with the water on a levelwith the gunwale; one wave indeed overflowed and soused them, but thenext moment they sighted the sky and grazing through the entrance theygained the open water.

  It was only when, in the clear afternoon daylight he turned to thank hisrescuer that a flash of recognition flooded Mr. Beverley's face.

  "Cedric Houghten! You! You!" he stammered, as if almost disbelieving theevidence of his own eyes.

  "Yes, it is I; but having seen me, forget me," returned Mr. Carson, hisdark face flushed and his hand on the oar. "It's the one favor you cando me for saving you. Let me vanish as I came, and don't try to followme. I only hope we may never cross each other's paths again."

  "Cedric! Come back!" yelled Mr. Beverley, as the skiff shot away. "Manalive! We've been searching for you for years. Don't you know that we'veproved your innocence! Come back, I say, and let me tell you."

  * * * * *

  It was late that evening, after a very long talk with Mr. Beverley, thatLorna's father explained to her the circumstances that had cleared hisname.

  "David had no more embezzled the money than I, and, thank God, he hasno idea I ever distrusted him. When a further sum went, Mr. Fenton set atrap, and discovered to his infinite grief that it was his own son whohad been robbing the firm. It practically broke him, and he has retiredfrom all active share in the business now. They packed young Fenton offto New Zealand to try farming instead of finance, but he's not doing anygood there. Mr. Fenton, it seems, was most anxious to find me and rightthe injustice done me, but I had hidden myself so well under an assumedname in Naples that it was impossible for them to trace me. Theyadvertised in the Agony column of _The Times_, but I avoided Englishpapers, so never saw the advertisements. My efforts to escape noticewere only too successful, and, although I didn't know it, I was actuallydefeating my own ends by my caution. If, as I intended, I had startedfor a new continent, I might so completely have broken all links with myold life that I might have gone to my grave in ignorance that myinnocence was proved. It was only the marvelous chance of thisafternoon's meeting that cleared up the tangle. I can look the world inthe face again, now, and not fear the sight of an Englishman. Oh, thejoy of having got one's honor back untarnished! Next best to that is toknow it was not my friend who had wronged me. The belief in histreachery was half the bitterness of those dreadful years. Capri hasbeen a fortunate island for us, Lorna. It's truly called the 'Mascot ofNaples,' and I shall love it to the end of my days. I can take my oldname again now and be proud of it. You're Lorna Houghten in future, notLorna Carson. What a triumph to write to our relations and tell them theglorious news. I feel like a man let loose from slavery."

  To Lorna also this happy consummation of all their troubles seemed arelief almost too great for expression. That Irene, her own Renie,should be the daughter of her father's favorite friend, and therefore ahereditary as well as a chosen chum, was a special delight, for itwelded the links that bound them together. The future shone rosy, andshe felt that wherever her life might be cast the Beverleys would alwaysremain part and parcel of it. Perhaps the triumph she appreciated mostof all was the introduction of her father to the Cameron Clan. No morehiding in out-of-the-way corners and avoiding the very sound of aBritish voice; henceforth they might hold up their heads with the restand take again their true position. She was proud of her father: nowthat the black cloak of despair had dropped away from him, his oldhappier nature shone out and he seemed suddenly ten years younger. Topresent him into the intimate circle of her friends realized her dearestwish.

  "It's been a wonderful week-end," said Peachy, standing with her girlfriends on the quay to wave good-by to the Monday morning steamer thatbore some of their relations back to Naples and business. "Here's Lornawith a new name, and Renie with a fresh cousin. Haven't you heard? Why,Captain Preston popped the question last night, and he and Marjorieannounced their engagement at the breakfast table. Not the most romanticplace to glean up congratulations, but, of course, that's just as youthink about it. When _I_ get engaged it shall be announced by moonlight,so that I can hide my blushes. I don't ever want the holidays to end.Capri's the dandiest place in Italy, and if Dad doesn't buy a villa hereI'll never forgive him. You want one too, Lorna? Hooray! We'll make aColony of Camellia Buds on the little island and spend the summer here.We may be globe-trotters and all the rest of it, but I vote we get up agood old Anglo-Saxon League and stick together for better or for worse.I'll buy a Union Jack to-day if the Cameron Clan will promise to wavethe Stars and Stripes, and sing 'Yankee Doodle' with 'Auld Lang Syne.'"

  "We've welded America already into the clan, dear bairn," smiled Mrs.Cameron. "No other visitor keeps us alive like you do."

  "Pronounce thy wishes, O Peach of the West," laughed Stewart. "Werechristen thee Queen of the South."

  "Then I summon you all some day to come back to this, my kingdom by thesea. School is school and I've got to have another term there, but Iwant to feel this happy island is waiting for us to return to it. Youpromise? Thanks! Here's a new version then of the old song--composed byMiss Priscilla Proctor, please!

  'Should auld adventures be forgot And ne'er provoke a smile? Should auld adventures be forgot Upon this happy isle? For auld lang syne, my dears, for auld lang syne, We'll all return to Capri's shore for auld lang syne.'

  H'm--a poor thing, but mine own!"

  "There are two of us at any rate who won't forget to come back," saidLorna, linking her arm fondly in Irene's as they walked away from thequay.

  THE END.

  * * * * *

  Transcriber's Notes:

  Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

  Page 63, "gardner" changed to "gardener". (Paolo, the gardener)

 
Page 260, "loose" changed to "lose". (to lose sight)

  One instance each of A-1 and A1, and cooee and coo-e-e were retained.

  Two instances each of Cartmel and Cartmell were retained.