Ingelow_Off_the_Skelligs.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
CHAPTER L
" There were giants on the earth in those days." Gen. vi 4.
" Seigneur ! preservez-moi, preserves ceux que j'aime,
Freres, parens, amis, et mes ennemis mime ;
Daas le mal triomphants
De jamais voir Seigneur I l'tfte" sans fleurs vermeilles,
La cage sans oiseaux, la ruche sans abeilles,
La maison sans enfans ! " Victor Hugo.
My father's house stood in a quiet country town through which
a tidal river flowed. The banks of the river were flanked by
wooden wharves, which were supported on timbers, and projected
over the water. They had granaries behind them, and one of
my earliest pleasures was to watch the gangs of men who at high
tide towed vessels up the river, where, being moored before these
granaries, cargoes of corn were shot down from the upper stories
into their holds, through wooden troughs not unlike fire-escapes.
The back of my father's house was on a level with the wharves,
and overlooked a long reach of the river. Our nursery was a
low room in the roof, having a large bow-window, in the old-
fashioned seat of which I spent many a happy hour with my
brother, sometimes listening to the soft, hissing sound made by
the wheat in its descent ; sometimes admiring the figure-heads
of the vessels, or laboriously spelling out the letters of their
names.
When the tide was low there was fresh pleasure. Then we
could watch the happy little boys who, with trousers tucked
above their knees, used to wade among the piles which were all
green with sea-grass and bristling with barnacles. ^Wfc co\&i sfcfc
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them picking up empty shells and bits of drift-wood in the
yellowish mud, or sometimes one of them would discover an old
pot or kettle, on which he would drum and play uncouth music
Joyous urchins ! I was too complete a baby to envy them; but
I thought how grand a lot was theirs.
I had a brother two years older than myself. Before I could
speak he had taught me my letters, and I used to pick them up
and present them to him as he called for them. Of course he
was a tiny child at the time, but to me he appeared very large.
Nothing has changed to me since babyhood so much as opinions
concerning size and height. Truly, " there were giants on the
earth in those days." All grown-up people appeared to me to
be nearly of a size my father was a giant, my mother was a
giantess, my brother was large, knowing, old, and never suffi-
ciently to be respected. Kose-trees were trees indeed, and no
bushes then ! I pulled the roses down to smell them, and I put up
my finger into the flowers of the tall tiger-lilies as I stood on tip-
toe under them, and regarded the dark dust that came off upon
it as something remarkable procured from a higher sphere.
When my nurse took me up in her arms, oh, what pleasure
to see the things on the table, to look down on that distant place,
the floor, and see my little sister creeping there !
A report reached me one day (not, however, from a trust-
worthy source, for it was our little housemaid who brought it to
me) a report to the effect that once I had been a little baby
like her ! That must have been a long time ago, I thought. I
pondered on it, but it seemed unlikely, and I did not believe it.
But as the rich go from their town-houses to their country
seats, and as the Vicar of "Wakefield and Mrs. Primrose migrated
from the blue bed to the brown, so we had our periodical changes.
Life in the nursery was well enough, but life in the best bed-
room smacked of the sublime.
What a world its windows opened out to us ! They looked
into the Minster yard. It was smooth, and paved with flag*
stones, and in its midst rose the great brown Minster, the old ^
Minster that was full of little holes, and had a bird's head peep-
ing out of each.
Oh, to see the rooks and starlings poised on the swaying
weathercocks; to hear the great clock give warning; to listen
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to the bells and shout to each other while their clashing voices
hummed and buzzed around us and over us ; to see the clergy*
men walking in to prayers, and all the blue-coat boys and girls
trooping after them; to watch the father rooks as they flew
home with wriggling worms in their mouths ; to see the little
starlings creep out of their holes and sit in a row pecking and
wrangling, these were sights indeed. When shall pleasures
for grown-up folks be found to match them !
My brother was the hero of my history, and the being whom
I imitated to the utmost of my power. He was a very remark-
able child, and had such a retentive memory, that as soon as he
could speak he could learn by heart anything that was repeated
slowly to him, whether he understood it or not.
Out father, perceiving his extraordinary precocity, was very
proud of him, and taught him several scenes from Shakespeare,
which he used to let him act, making him stamp, frown, and
use all kinds of appropriate gestures, and exciting him by praises
and rewards. He thought education could not begin too early ;
and, not content with the progress his child made at home, he
sent him at four years old to a lady who engaged to " bring him
forward. " Under her teaching he mastered reading very quickly,
and reading once learned, vain would have been the attempt
to keep him back in other things. He loved best a large old
edition of Shakespeare. And our nurse used to let him carry it
up into the nursery, because poring over it kept him so quiet.
Every scene that he liked he learned. Fighting and slaying
scenes were his favourites ; and when he knew them by heart
he would shut up the folio, stand upon it, and begin to act ;
while I, being the audience, sat on the floor and stared ad-
miringly. He would pretend to cry, would hold out his little
hand with a menacing air, then fall down on the floor with a
solemn face and a deep sigh, which gave me to understand that
he was dead, and that his enemies had killed him.
All this my brother did and learned, over and above what he
was taught by the lady to whom he was sent for instruction, and
my mother never discovered it ; otherwise I believe she would
have found some less dangerous amusement for him. But she
was very delicate, and we seldom saw her, for she could not
endure the least noise, and constantly suffered from !&&&&&&
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BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
8 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Then we would steal hand-in-hand into the rich sunny west-
end of the Minster. Here was a great window, an ancient one,
full of prophets and kings, some on chairs, some on thrones, and
some in the open country. A wonderful country this was, with
trees like the trees in our Noah's ark, and hills that went straight
up to heaven, as might be seen by the angels that stood upon
them. That they correctly represented the country they pictured
I did not in the least doubt, any more than that all the prophets
and kings were portraits, and good ones !
Of the old sexton we soon became very fond, and he was
equally fond of us; therefore it was not wonderful that his
daughter should often have brought us to him when she wanted
to go out and enjoy herself, and left us till it suited her business
or pleasure to come back again.
She always took little Amy, our sister, with her. She had
been left by our parents in sole charge of us, and she immedi-
ately abused the liberty that she suddenly found in her power.
"We were never the worse for it, so she by degrees left us more
and more ; and I have little doubt that the quiet old sexton, her
father, was a far better guardian for us than she was.
About this time a personage came upon the stage of our lives,
who was known to the world as the Kev. Charles Mompesson,
but by me known only by the name of Mompey. He was, when
first I knew him, as young as he could be to be in orders, for, as
I learned afterwards, he came to the place where we lived for a
title. The manner of his introduction to us was this :
Snap used to personate the characters that he saw in pictures ;
and being one day greatly fascinated with the oddity of a figure
in one of the side-lights of the Minster, he sat before it on a
bench, trying to give his face its strange expression, and no doubt
succeeding, for he had marvellous powers of imitation. The
figure that of a saint in a blue baldric sat on a high chair,
with its legs hanging down, but not reaching the ground, and its
feet, in their pointed shoes, serenely crossed. Its hands were
also crossed, and lightly held a long willow branch, while its
head, hanging affectedly on one side, wore a smile half-innocent,
half-foolish.
Snap got a willow branch, a thing easily procured from the
sexton's little garden, and was sitting in the full enjoyment of
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his mimicry before the painted window when Mr. Mompesson
passed down the aisle. He stopped and stared, then laughed with
irrepressible amusement. The imitation was too ridiculously
good not to be perceived in an instant.
Snap did not stir a muscle. In fact, he by no means supposed
his personification to be absurd, he was only obeying the strong
artistic feeling within him.
" Who is this ? " said Mr. Mompesson. " What in the name
of wonder is the child doing ? "
Upon this I, rising from the mat on which I had been sitting
admiring my brother, exclaimed in my childish piping voice,
" That's Snap ; you must not speak to him now, because he's a
mediaeval saint. "
" Oh, he is, is he 1 " said Mr. Mompesson. " Here, Wilson !
Wilson ! "
Wilson, the sexton, soon appeared, and Mr. Mompesson said,
" Wilson, look at this. These little children cannot possibly be
allowed to make a playroom of the Minster. "
Did we know, he asked, why we were not to play in the
Minster ?
Snap was silent. I said " 'No ; " whereupon he took me up in
his arms and said good little children came to church to pray to
God and be taught how to please Him. It was only naughty
little children who came there to play.
A puzzling assertion this to a child in whose mind was fixed
the belief that it was good to play, and not good to do anything
else whatever.
10 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
CHAPTEE II
[Enter the Ghost of Ccuar.]
" Brutus. Is not the leaf turned down
"Where I left reading ? There it ia, I think.
How ill this taper burns. Ha I who comes here ?
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
That shapes this monstrous apparition.
It comes upon me."
After this we often saw Mr. Mompesson, and if I had not been
reminded of the picture by those grotesque heads which we
could see from his window, I should have been very happy.
As it was, there were occasions when a vivid fear of it would
suddenly come up and overshadow my infant heart. I used
then to creep behind the curtains of Snap's bed, and cover my
face with my hands, sometimes shaking in all my limbs till I
gave way to a passion of screaming and crying.
I never told any one what it was that frightened me, because
my mother had said that I was not to know anything, con-
sequently I thought I ought not to know this.
One day, however, when I was playing in Mr. Mompesson's
room, I remembered those ugly faces, and crept up to him for
protection, hiding my face in the folds of his gown, for he had
just come in from the Minster, and was standing against a desk
writing. He gave what he had written to a man who stood
waiting for it, and then he took me upon his knee.
I was cold. He warmed my hands in his large palm, and
inquired whether anything was the matter, asking me if I was
happy. I said " No," and when he asked why, I can remember
that I shook my head, and said I must not tell him. He, how-
ever, repeated the question, and at last I confided to him as a
great secret that there was a place where wicked men were put
when they died, and that I had seen a picture of it.
I whispered this to him with confidential earnestness, and on
hearing it he started, and coloured with that fine blush of shame
sometimes seen on the faces of ingenuous young men. Perhaps
he felt that such ignorance was a reproach to him, for he had
kept us a great deal with him, and had only thought of amus-
hig us.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. II
He asked me, if I ever said my prayers, and I answered, " Oh
yes," and kneeled on his knee repeating them to him. After
this I think I inquired of him whether the picture did not make
him unhappy also, and he answered as Snap had done, " Oh no ! "
Did he ever think ahout it, then 1 I asked ; he said he did, hut
that he was going out to see a poor man, and if I liked I might
go with him, and play while he was in the cottage ; then after
that he would talk to me and tell me why he was not afraid ; in
short, he would tell me a beautiful story. I went with him in
high glee. Our road lay through a timber-yard some way out of
the small town : one side of it was shaded by a wood, and there
were long piles of timber heaped up in this yard, and there were
empty saw-pits and sheds where the saw-dust lay.
I had often played with my brother and walked along the
piles of timber. Mompey found a specially great pile, stretched
himself upon it, and began to tell me the promised story. I had
often heard stories before, but never one so beautiful and so
wonderful as this. It was about a man whose name was Adam,
and he lived in a garden, and he had a beautiful wife.
I do not of course remember the words in which he arrayed
the marvellous, mysterious history, but they must have been
suited to my infant understanding, for this most wonderful of
all stories but one presented visions to me of beauty that I had
not imagined before, and of happiness indescribable. To live in
a garden, and such a garden ! I thought how kind it was of God
to give it them ; and then I questioned the narrator about the
soft shining rivers, and the grass all velvet-like with moss, the
trees covered with citrons and overhung with grapes birds also
singing on the branches, and not afraid when Adam and Eve
drew nigh.
"Might Eve gather the flowers?" I inquired; "might she
gather as many as she liked ? "
" Oh yes ; God made them to grow on purpose for Adam and
for Eve, and as long as they were good they were to live in that
beautiful garden."
Still, when I look back on that now-distant day, the vision
of Eden rises up before me as I saw it then, with lucid rivers
slipping on beneath the flowing trees ; angels with long white
wings moving about by the beautiful man arid womaji, on \*saXr
12 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
ing till the voice of God should be heard in the cool of the
day.
I listened like one fascinated, questioning him again and again.
And then he began to tell about the fair glittering serpent, how
it tempted our first mother under the mysterious tree ; and when
I saw how it would end, I said, " Oh, dorCt let Eve gather the
apple," and I hid my face among the daisies and began to cry.
But I soon got up again, dried my eyes, and asked, " Did she
really take the apple which God said she was not to have ? "
" Yes," Mr. Mompesson answered, " she did."
How sorry I was for them. I heard how they were torn
away from that happy place, and pitied them both; but my
heart ached most for Eve. I thought the stones must have cut
her feet, and I wondered whether Adam ever forgave her for
persuading him to eat the apple.
" She was very unkind," I remember saying, " for now we
had to live in a place not half so beautiful, and it was all her
fault."
" It did not signify," he answered. " God loved us, though
He had been displeased." When he had been to see the poor
man he would tell me the rest of the story.
So he went through the little wood to the cottage, leaving
me to play among the piles of wood. There was fine soft grass
growing there, and there were just within the wood several
young hawthorn-trees covered with bloom.
I had still some misgiving ' as to whether it did not hurt
Eve's feet to walk on the grass in Eden, so I took off my shoes
and socks and ran about among the daisies and the buttercups.
It was a most delightful sensation, that of walking about
with bare feet. I enjoyed it that day for the first and last
time. JSTow I was quite sure that Eve had been really happy
in the garden; and as I stepped about over the grass which
was warm and glowing with the afternoon sun, I personated
Eve in my childish heart, and stood under a may-tree, saying to
myself, that if the serpent came I would not listen to him.
Some people appear to feel that they are much wiser, much
nearer to the truth and to realities, than they were when they
were children. They think of childhood as immeasurably
beneath and behind them. I have never been able to join
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in such a notion. It often seems to me that we lose quite as
much as we gain by our lengthened sojourn here. I should not
at all wonder if the thoughts of our childhood, when we look
back on it after the rending of this veil of our humanity,
should prove less unlike what we were intended to derive from
the teaching of life, nature, and revelation, than the thoughts of
our more sophisticated days.
However, this is mere speculation. "While we are enveloped
in the veil we cannot know who sees through it most clearly.
I was putting on my shoes again, when Mr. Mompesson came
back, and I remember that when I had settled the buttons to
my mind I asked him to tell me the rest of that story, where-
upon he sat down upon the timber, looking at me with his
ordinary sweet expression of grave calm.
" There was nothing more to be told about Eden," he said.
" Where was it now ? " I inquired. I wished to see the out-
side of it.
"Where was it! it was gone. Men had travelled all over
the world, but it was not to be found. Once there came a
great flood of waters, and most likely they swept Eden away."
" That must have been because God was displeased with us j
or was it because He thought we should always be trying to find
the way in?"
I think he answered that God Himself had found the way
back for us into that garden, but I understood something of its
being in heaven, and of God's great love for us.
" Why did He love us ? " I asked with infantine scorn. " I
did not love Adam and Eve they had been very unkind."
He said that if I would try to understand he would tell me
another story, and mentioning the familiar name to which I had
hitherto attached little or no meaning, he began and told me
the old story, the happy story, the good news of the glorious
Child, and how angels came and sang to the shepherds as they
watched their flocks by night. He told this with a tender
recollection of what a little child he was speaking to ; he must
have done, for I understood some of his meaning, and remember
it yet.
When men were turned out of Eden they got worse and
worse, and they could not make themselves any \}e\\&^\sv& Hta&
14 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
great Son of God who sat with Him on the throne promised
that He would come down to this world to die for them, that
God might forgive them and take them to heaven itself, which
was a hetter place than Eden.
I listened with eager wonder, but, strange to say, there was
one thing that I heard with distrust Christ was born in a
stable. I asked my informant if he was sure of that. He
answered with his serene smile, "Yes, Christ was so humble
that He chose to be born in a stable."
Glimpses of beneficent miracles, the hot country, the aloes,
the palm-trees, the waters of that pool which angels were wont
to trouble with their wings ; glimpses of these things, broken
but still lovely, come to my mind as reflected from the precious
fragments of this marvellous story. But I had a fear lest the
end should be like the end of Eden ; and when he told me any-
thing more than commonly delightful to listen to, I begged him
to repeat it for me again.
At last he told me the end. Perhaps to tell it in such a
way was a new thing to him, perhaps this impressed his own
heart the more ; certain it is that when he had told me of the
agony in the garden and the crown of thorns, his voice, always
sweet, became touched with unusual emotion.
But he went on : there was darkness over all the land. I
understood that the Saviour died. I was amazed to hear it,
and, overawed by the gravity of the narrator, I begged him to
stop, and there was a long pause.
Children are so easily moved. I wept; but, babe that I
was, and ignorant, I said those were wicked people, and I hated
them. He said, " Christ the Saviour would forgive both them
and us."
" But was not Christ dead ? "
" He was dead when they took Him down from the cross and
laid Him in a sepulchre."
I listened and wondered, and he told me how on that sultry
morning long ago the women came before day-dawn and looked
in at the open door of the sepulchre where the body of Jesus
had lain.
At this point in his narrative I think it was that he took
from his breast-pocket a little book and read from it all the
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 15
remainder of the gospel story, beginning with the ever-com-
forting words, "Woman, why weepest thou?" and ending,
"Lo, I am with yon alway, even to the end of the world."
So then, Christ the Redeemer lived again, he told me, and
was gone up to heaven to pray for us ; and if we trusted in
Him and strove to please Him, we should certainly go to Him
when we died, and never see that place that I had seen a
picture of.
Upon this, being very glad, I lifted up my face to kiss
Mr. Mompesson. I had been a good deal awed and frightened
while the issue of the event was doubtful, and now in my
relief and exultation I danced about the place for joy. Most
people, I should think, would have checked these manifesta-
tions of delight with severity, as irreverent and foolish. Mr.
Mompesson did not. He sat looking o,n with his arms folded,
repeating, when I asked him that what he had told me was
quite true, " Perfectly true ; " and when, tired at last, I came
to him to be taken on his knee, he held me in his arms, and
said that now I must try to be a good child.
I answered in all simplicity, that now I had heard this story
I meant to try, and I asked him whether he tried.
Who could hear such a question with equanimity ? He did
not reply at first, but when I pressed him he answered with
a sigh "Sometimes." I remember looking in his face with
surprise, but I was tired, so I laid my head on his shoulder,
and we sat silent. What he was thinking of I cannot tell.
My thoughts, with all their ignorance, were such as I could
wish to have always. I thought of that beneficent Eedeemer,
and how I would try to find out what He wished me to do that
I might do it.
Now, as we had been told that we were not to play down in
the Minster any more, we should have found it rather a dull
place in spite of our love for the old sexton, if it had not been
for a certain little door. You opened this little door, and on
windy days a kind of hollow moaning came down to it, and
when you looked up you saw nothing but a worn stone stair.
Snap and I, having once a good opportunity, went up this
winding stair; sometimes it was very dark, and then all at
once as we crept on we came to a narrow looplight. OX *&
1 6 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
narrow ! we could but just push our hands through it ; and
we looked down and saw the blue-coat boys playing in their
playground, and saw the broad flat tops of the cedar-trees in
the vicar's garden.
At last we came to the bell-chamber, but the ominous hum
there for it was on the stroke of noon rather frightened us,
and we retreated, and mounted again, coming out at last in a
room which at first seemed nearly dark, but which grew lighter
and pleasanter when our eyes became accustomed to it, a place
that no one wanted, and where nothing was kept ; rough, dusky,
and with strange hollows and niches in the walls. The roof
had a little hole in it here and there, and the birds came through
at their will.
We adopted that place, stole up to it frequently, and brought
to it certain possessions as crumpled books full of pictures,
dolls, and baskets for keeping young birds in. Many a happy
hour I spent there, sitting on the floor under a great beam that
in one part stooped low over our heads ; and here Snap told me
a great many extraordinary things, some true, and some of his
own invention.
I liked this place very much when the day was bright, for
then little spots of sunshine would steal in and creep cheerily
along the floor ; but sometimes there came a dark cloudy day,
and then the whole chamber would be filled with a strange
duskiness, which gave mysterious shape to beams and rafters.
Then I was often frightened, because Snap, whom nothing made
afraid, used to fable that ghosts were hiding behind them, and
would most likely peep out soon to look at us. Then indeed I
used to tremble, and my face being covered with my hands at
the first hint of the ghosts, I would listen while he held ima-
ginary conversations with them, always demanding what they
wanted in a bold voice, as manly as the circumstances permitted,
and answering in the person of the said ghosts, with a weak
whining tone, that they were come to hear about Wallace, or
Giant Despair, or the battle of Trafalgar, according to the book
he might have been'reading aloud.
Thereupon he generally ordered them to retire, and not come
out till evening ; and after a time finding these fetches of his
Imagination not unnaturally subject to his bidding, I came to
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 17
regard them with less awe ; and, in fact, till a certain memorable
day, I regarded all sorts of ghosts with a pity which was some-
what akin to contempt.
On this particular day Snap proposed to leave me in " Hades,"
as he called this place, and go down to the sexton's house for an
old book that he wanted to borrow. There were a good many
spots of sunshine that day, and I had my doll and a bag of
crumbs for the mice, who would often come out and eat them,
even in our presence. I do not remember how old I was, but I
was certainly getting on in life, for I had arrived at a point
when one desires to be depended on, and not wish to be thought
a baby therefore I took care to repeat to myself that I was not
at all afraid, and I sat a long time amusing myself very plea-
santly, when all on a sudden I heard a creaking on the stairs,
and then a pause, and then a kind of snort. I pricked up my
little head, for the sounds were unusual, but presently something
like regular footsteps was heard, and I of course supposed them
to be Snap's, and was much encouraged ; but, willing to guard
against any possible contingency, I covered my eyes with my
hands, because in case this should be a ghost, I did not wish to
have anything to do with it.
What a loud foot this possible ghost had ! I was soon sure
that it was not Snap who was coming, and I thought if it was
a ghost it could be no other than the ghost of Caesar; so I
crouched down closer, squeezed my hands over my eyes, and
presently, with a sort of wheezing noise, something heavy came
in, and started, and nearly tumbled down, crying out,
" Bless my heart ! bless me ! bless me!"
Something seemed in a great hurry ; it tumbled or rolled down
the stairs with more creaking and more wheezing then a door
was shut below the ghost had shut himself in among the great
bells. I was so glad he was gone.
Snap soon after came up. He cried to me to make haste and
run down, for the sexton was very soon going home. We had
not time for much talk, but as he went down Snap saw that I
looked just a little alarmed
" What is the matter ? " he asked
" A ghost came," I whispered, " while you were away."
" ^Nonsense," he answered; " what did it do 1 "
1 8 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" It wheezed," I replied ; " I think it was a sick ghost. It
wheezed, and then it rolled downstairs."
" I don't believe it," said Snap, and so dismissed the subject
CHAPTEK HI.
" And he showed us how he had seen an angel in his house." Acts xL 13.
Our nurse had a very easy conscience, a most undesirably easy
conscience, considering the circumstances under which she was
placed. She suffered us from day to day to go into the Minster,
though the old sexton, when she came to fetch us home, could
seldom give any account of where we were. We always appeared
in the nursery when we were hungry, which, thanks to the regu-
larity of our appetites, was generally about our dinner-time, and
that seemed to satisfy her.
The day after I had heard that odd noise of wheezing on the
stairs, I positively refused to go up to Hades, and we accordingly
remained below. But the day after that, as Snap declared that
he should go up, I crept up after him, and he insisted on peep-
ing into the door of the bell-chamber, just to be sure, as he said,
that nobody was there. We took with us some crumbs and crusts
of bread which we had collected for our tame mice and the young
sparrows.
We did peep into the bell-chamber, and there in a hole we
saw a nest full of nearly fledged pigeons ; two of them fluttered
on to the floor, as, forgetful of the ghost, we ran in. We took
them, and tying them loosely into Snap's handkerchief, stood a
few minutes on tip-toe peeping through a loop-light and chatter-
ing together. In one corner of the chamber lay several nests
with eggs in them. They were half covered with a man's jacket
(not a jacket such as the sexton wore), and beside them lay a
very dirty little songbook and a red pocket-handkerchief. These
things did not surprise us ; they were clearly the possession of
some mortal, and we feared not mortals \ so we argued together
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 19
respecting the ghost which I said I had heard on the stairs
tramping up, as well as respecting other every-day matters.
Finally, we withdrew and crept np the set of wooden steps
which led into " Hades ; " they were little better than a ladder,
hat we were well accustomed to them, and when we had shut
the door, Snap said that he had peered through the crack of the
hinges as he came up the steps, and that there was somebody in
the bell-chamber standing straight upright in the corner behind
its heavy door, which was open.
I took the easiest solution that offered, and said perhaps it
was the ghost. " Oh no," he said, " it had dirty nails, and
ghosts, he was sure, never had dirty nails."
Of course, I was immediately sure of it too. But why did
the man stand behind the door f was it that we might not see
him t Snap could not tell. We untied the handkerchief, made
a splendid nest for our pigeons of hay and feathers, for the
wasteful sparrows always brought up far more of these materials
than they wanted ; then we fed them and our tame mice, who
no sooner heard our voices than they peeped out and twinkled
their bead-like eyes at us. And afterwards, Snap, standing on
the beam which was our customary seat, made these small
creatures an harangue which was partly mortal, partly fabulous.
First, with much self-laudation of his kindness in being at the
pains to teach such inferior creatures, he related to them, as he
generally did on these occasions, the history of the war between
the mice and the cranes. Never was there such a restless
audience ; little squeaks were heard now and then all through
it, and little rushes behind beams, and sudden darts out into the
open floor, while all the time an unceasing chirp and chirrup
was kept up in the nests out of reach among the tie-beams.
Finally, while the mice, who had not yet finished every crumb,
made a concluding scamper down the beams and popped into
their holes, he delivered to them a serious lecture on the vice of
greediness. " They need not think," he observed, " that even
when he was away they could snatch the crumbs from one
another unobserved, for there was a person near at hand who
was not exactly a gentleman, because he had dirty nails, but
who knew when mice were greedy, and despised them. For
himself, he was Boon going away; but they had \ettet VntfgtQSfc
20 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
their manners, for during the afternoon that person might very
likely come np and look at them."
Very likely indeed, as the sequel proved, for I was still
listening to this harangue with unbounded admiration, when the
door was cautiously pushed open, and through the dim chamber
a man came up to us who was clad in a fustian jacket and grey
worsted stockings : he had no shoes. He seemed very careful
not to make a noise, and when he got close up to Snap, who
was standing on the beam, he said, " Servant, sir."
" How do you do 1 " said Snap, by way of reply.
This man looked as if he had not been shaved for some time,
and his eyes had an eager, hungry glitter.
" What's your name, hey, sir 1 " he next asked.
" Tom Graham," replied Snap ; " and this is my sister she
is Dorothea Graham."
"Oh," was the man's sole reply, and he stared at us very
hard, and asked if we came into the Minster roof every day.
" Every day, when we can," said Snap. " Do you 1" I did
not like that man, and did not wish him to talk to me; he made
a wheezing noise as he breathed, which reminded me of the
ghost ; so I withdrew to the corner where the mice made
their holes, and began to watch them ; they were very amusing,
and I presently forgot to listen to Snap and the man as they
whispered together, and busied myself with them, and after-
wards with my old doll in the recess. In a little while the man
glided away very quietly, and Snap said he was gone back to
the bell-chamber, and this chamber, moreover, was a place
very seldom entered, for the bells were rung from below.
Snap then told me with some exultation that this man had
lived for several days in the Minster, or crouching on the roof,
for he was hiding from his enemies ! Extraordinary story this,
but it did not surprise us at all. Snap had often told me about
people who were obliged to fly from their enemies, and the
sexton himself had a long story about some old Saxon king
who was reputed to have concealed himself in the crypt
for two months while the victorious Danes were scouring the
country.
Of course we were not to tell the beadle or the sexton,
indeed he had impressed that very strongly on Snap's mind, and
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 21
said he should be very angry if he did, and Snap had promised
most earnestly not to do so.
We went home, and, as may easily be believed, no one asked
lis whether we had seen a man in the Minster, and whereabouts
he hid himself. Every time nurse spoke to us, that was what I,
however, expected her to say; but as the evening wore on I
nearly forgot the man, till just before bed-time, when I stole
into the green bedroom, and looked at the Minster tower to see
whether he was peeping out at any of the loop-lights. The
next day was wet, but the day after that being hot and fine, our
nurse took out dear little Amy's best pelisse, dressed the pretty
little smiling creature, and putting on our common suits led
us all into the Minster, and saying that she wanted to take'
Amy to her cousin's farm in the country, left us with her
father.
Snap almost immediately began to climb the tower, on his
way to the bell-chamber. He said he had promised the man
that he would go and see him again, and besides he wanted to
ask him what "his enemies " would do to him if they got him.
So up we both climbed, till we got to the dim part of the stairs,
where the massive door of the chamber might be seen. I liked
to hear that door opened, it used to creak with a kind of com-
plaining noise ; and besides, it was pricked full of minute round
holes which Snap said had little worms in them.
When we reached the said door, Snap knocked with his open
hand, and then whispered through the great key-hole, " Man,
man, let me in, I am not one of your enemies." Upon this the
door was softly opened, and a great, fierce, unwashed and
unshaven face looked out. We were told to walk in, and the
man asked in a deep voice, which rather frightened us, whether
either of us had told any one where he was. We both declared
that we had not, adding that we knew it would be very wicked
to tell ! Upon this he seemed satisfied, and Snap venturing
respectfully to ask him how he was, he replied that he was
"fairly clemmed, ,, by which he meant that he was suffering
from hunger. His appearance was anything but heroic, yet we
both regarded him with awe and deference, which was not
diminished even when the fellow said, " If I know'd of a boy
that could be trusted, I'd send him to buy me a \oal oi \stsA?
22 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Snap on this rose proudly up ; there was a baker's shop on the
south side of the Minster, and he received money and instruc-
tions to buy a half-quartern loaf there.
In due time Snap was heard coming up again, the door was
softly opened, and he appeared with triumph in his eyes, and a
great loaf in his arms. " They never asked me what I was going
to do with it," he observed; "most likely they thought I had
come to fetch it for our cook, and nobody saw me bring it into
the Minster, for Wilson was standing with his back to me, rub-
bing the pulpit rails." Our man took the loaf with eager eyes,
and when he told us that for the last five days he had lived on
birds' eggs only, we were not so greatly surprised, as we other-
wise might have been, at the way in which he tore it to pieces
and devoured it.
I do not remember how long we ministered to this man, per-
haps for a fortnight. Sometimes we acted scenes or told stories
to amuse him. He was extremely restless, and would pace the
dim chamber for hours together ; but a kind of stealthy pleasure
would appear in his face when we appeared and had answered
the always repeated question as to whether we had told any one.
He often said our presence was a great relief to him ; and once
told Snap that he felt very bad o' nights, and generally came
down and slept on the vestry table.
At last one day when we came to see our man, we found the
door of the bell-chamber wide open. He was gone, and not a
trace remained of him. We were very glad that he had escaped
from his enemies, and we often talked of him between ourselves,
but we never told any one of his having been concealed in the
Minster, no, not even our beloved Mr. Mompesson; and on
looking back I feel quite convinced that we had no notion we
were doing wrong in this concealment. In fact, I believe we
supposed that we were performing a sacred duty. Who the man
was I never discovered with any certainty : but some years after,
I heard that about this time a notable prisoner escaped from the
county gaol, and I have always supposed that he and our man
were one and the same person.
Our parents now came home ; observed some charming proofs
of our ignorance, and found us fat and well. Accordingly, they
rewarded our nurse, and we said nothing of the hours during
OFF THE SKELLIGS. * 23
which she had left us to wander by ourselves. Children seldom
complain of neglect or even of unkindness, and we were uncon-
scious of either.
CHAPTER IV.
" Up and down as dull as grammar,
On an eve of holiday." Mrs. Bbowkino.
" He says, ' It's not of the slightest use to wake them, my dear,
they'll neither understand the matter nor feel it.' So with that
he kissed them asleep, you know, in those two beds and off
he went."
These words were spoken by my nurse one evening as she sat
at her tea with a friend whom she had invited to spend the
evening with her.
" And took your mistress and the little boy with him, didn't
he ? " said the friend.
" Yes, and they are coming back to-morrow."
" And how long is Mr. Graham to be away ? "
" Nobody knows it's Sydney that he's gone to they went
to see him sail"
" And you mean to go with her to the out-of-the-way place
you told me of 1 "
" Yes ; but how Missis can put her head into such a hole I
can't think. I'd as lief stop here and never see a soul as go
there, where they'll live just as if they weren't gentlefolks."
" Maybe you'll find it better than you expect," observed the
friend.
" I don't see how that can be," replied nurse ; " Missis has
explained it all to me. ' I should wish, nurse,' says she, * that
there should be no misunderstanding between us. You wish to
remain in my service V 'If you please, ma'am,' says I. Says
she again, ' Do you know what sort of a house I am going to ? '
* No, ma'am,' says I, * but I don't need to know, for I shall not
have to clean it ' "
24 ' OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" You were right there," said the friend, " and of course she
won't expect any cleaning of you."
Nurse proceeded " * I suppose/ says Missis, s you know that
your master has had losses ; ' and then on she went, and told me
that he was obliged to leave her in England, that she had a small
property of her own, which was two acres of land and a wind-
mill. These were almost in the midst of a common, and the
mill was let to a very respectable couple ; on the land she said
were two cottages, such as poor folks live in. * You need make
no mistake,' says she, ' about them ; they have brick floors, and
the door opens into the front kitchen of each. One of those
front kitchens I mean to have for my parlour, the other will be
the nursery. There are two little back kitchens behind, where
the cooking and all that must be done, and there are four little
attics above where we must sleep. Those cottages,' she says, ' will
not let because they are in such a lonesome place, therefore the
best thing I can do is to live in them, and the garden ground
will provide fruit and vegetables.' "
I cannot say that I distinctly regretted this intended absence
of my father. A week is a long time to a little child, and ten
miles is a great distance a much longer time and a much greater
distance I did not picture clearly to myself; besides, the absence
of my brother induced me to play with my little sister Amy, and
in that natural and healthy companionship I found consolation
for the want both of parents and expeditions to the Minster.
In the course of time my mother and Snap came home. Very
soon there was a great deal of noise and confusion in the house :
furniture was sold, and other furniture packed up. Then one
day, as I was looking out of the window, I saw a fly standing
at the door, and my mother coming up to me, kissed me, and
told me to look at my old nursery, and then at the Minster, for
most likely I should never see them any more.
Mr. Mompesson was 'present. I asked if I should never see
him any more. We saw he could not telL This inclined me
to cry, but Snap, laughing at me and saying that it would be
very jolly to live in the country, I was cheered ; and Mompey
having kissed me lovingly, we got into the fly, and began a
journey which lasted all day.
It was late in April The fields were full of buttercups, and
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 25
the hawthorn was in bud. Snap, as I remember, was in high
spirits, but my mother sometimes shed tears. She was generally
a silent person, but that day she made many efforts to talk, and
towards evening her spirits rose, and we beheld the place that
nurse had called " a hole."
A more lovely and desirable place we thought it. Two
cottages built together, and thatched, standing on a great green
common, which in front stretched away for miles, and was
studded with little hillocks covered with broom. This was what
met our eyes, and we were delighted. The little hillocks were
golden with broom blossom, and here and there green heather,
stunted hawthorn trees, and patches of wild flowers.
At the back was an orchard and a vegetable garden, also the
mill with the miller's cottage, and the miller's large duck-pond
and cow-shed, and beyond these was the common again ; not a
single object to be seen on its green expanse, and no variety of
colour but what was supplied by the winding sandy road that
crossed it in the direction of the nearest town. Inside the
cottages did not communicate. In the one on the left was the
little parlour; it had a round table in it, mamma's sofa and
chairs, and a good-sized set of book-shelves. It had also a piece
of old turkey carpet on the floor. Though we had come from a
handsome and well-appointed house, I do not think that these
arrangements struck us as at all shabby or uncomfortable, and in
some respects we were far happier than before, for we perceived
that we should now enjoy the sweets of liberty. Excepting on
market-day, not a cart jogged and not a fanner plodded along
the sandy road, but on that day the miller's wife, Mrs. Sampson,
put on her best print gown, and came out to chat with stray
passers-by; our nurse and her assistant also wore their best
ribbons then, and gossiped over the low garden-hedge, for from
Monday morning early to Friday evening late they never saw a
soul ; and if Saturday happened to be a wet day, sore were their
lamentations. My mother used to lie on her sofa and read, or
sit at her desk writing almost all day, but she superintended our
lessons for a short time in the morning, and sometimes, as a rare
pleasure for us, she would take a ramble with us on the common.
We had now reached an age when my mother seemed to think
it a needless and useless attempt to keep us in i^crcm& kk^
26 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
longer, and she generally answered our questions fully and as
clearly as she could. I say our questions, not that any were
originated by me, but that I participated, as far as I could
understand them, in all Snap's speculations, doubts, and wonders.
We, however, led a much more healthy life than had hitherto
been the case. We dined at twelve, and after that we might
ramble out till hunger brought us home to our evening meal ;
thus from one o'clock till seven we often ran about or sat play-
ing among the purple and gold flowers, the grey lichens, and the
white camomiles. For some time after we reached that pleasant
home, we were exceedingly happy, though we had our difficulties
and perplexities ; for after awhile we became engaged in the some-
what arduous task of constructing an entirely new language,
grammar, spelling, and all. It was of course my brother's idea
to make this language, and when I had been taken into partner-
ship I helped as well as I could.
The verbs of our language were to be all regular, and, to save
trouble, Snap decreed that there should be only two conjuga-
tions.
The great present convenience of the language was to be the
impossibility of its being understood by others when we spoke
it, but our humble ambition was that at some future day it
would, or at least might, become the universal language of man-
kind. Indeed, after we had spent many months in contriving
it, we thought it would be a shame if it did not.
Some of Snap's original poems and my first Journal are
written in this language ; and we were then deep in the labour
of its construction when our mother discovered the fact, and
was not at all elated, but, on the contrary, exceedingly annoyed,
though we took great pains to explain its merits to her.
Perhaps it was to prevent the activity of our minds from
being entirely wasted in wrong directions that about this time
she engaged a tutor for us, being, as she explained to Snap,
unable to give her time to his education, as she had so much
writing to do.
She took great pains to impress upon us that we were to be
very obedient and obliging to our new tutor, and very attentive
to his lessons. He was to sleep at the miller's house, and our
little nursery was to be furbished up as a schoolroom.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 27
In due time the tutor made his appearance. He came in
with sufficient assurance : he heard us read we lisped horribly ;
he saw us write our writing was dreadful. He seemed a good
youth enough. That he was very young was evident ; we had
been told that he had just left King's College, London. So we
treated him with great deference, and whatsoever he did we
admired. Thus when he whistled while mending our pens, and
when he cut his initials on the wooden desk, we thought these
acts proofs of superiority. He, however, did not seem as well
pleased with us, for he had encouraged us to talk that he might
discover what we knew, and he shortly began to look hot, un-
comfortable, and perplexed.
Finally he remarked that it was time to "shut up shop,*
asked if there were any rabbits on the common, and affably
decreed that we might come out with him and show him
about.
Off we all set, first to the mill for a dog, then to the heath,
when, finding our new friend gracious and friendly, we shortly
began to chatter and explain various things to him and argue
with each other.
At last we sat down. Our tutor sunk into silence, whistled
softly, and stared from one of us to the other. Snap, in the
joy of his heart, was describing our new language, and oh !
audacious act, was actually asking him whether he would like
to learn it.
Not a word did he say, but a sort of alarm began to show
itself in his face ; and at length, at the end of a sharp argument
between us, he started up and exclaimed, " I say ! there's some-
thing wrong here, a child of six, and talk about a strong pre-
terite ! good gracious ! Beginning to learn Greek too ! "
" So I tell her," said Snap ; " she ought to know better than
to expect all our verbs to have strong preterites."
" Come home, young ones," said our tutor.
We rose, and he set off at a steady pace ; we sneaked behind,
aware that something was wrong. We wondered why he went
so fast, for he was evidently tired, and often wiped his fore-
head with his handkerchief.
When we next met him, which was after tea, he appeared
very ill at his ease, and Snap, who since our walk \i&&.\teCrc&a
28 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
quite at home with him, asked him a great many questions,
which related chiefly, as I remember, to ghosts, spirits, the
magnetic poles, and other every-day matters. Finally observ-
ing his discomfort, we proposed to do some Shakespeare for him,
and he sat staring at us under this infliction till nurse called us
away to bed.
The next morning at breakfast our mother gave us a lecture
respecting our general behaviour and the manner in which we
talked. We had very much surprised our new tutor, she said,
and we were not to act scenes before him any more, or he would
certainly be displeased.
In the midst of the meal, Mr. Sampson, the miller, appeared
at the open door looking flushed and excited.
"New Tooter's off, ma'am," said he; "I said he wouldn't
stop."
" Off ! " repeated my mother.
" Yes, ma'am, gone run away," replied the miller.
" Extraordinary ! run away, Mr. Sampson ! what can you
mean?"
"Yes, ma'am. I said to my wife last night, 'That young
chap won't stay. I know it by the look of him.' And sure
enough this morning, just after I went to the mill, he dropped
himself and his bag out o' window and off he ran. When I
came in just now, my wife said, ' He's off, John ; the Tooter has
run away.' "
" Have you any reason to think he was not satisfied with his
accommodation ? " asked my mother.
The miller shook his head. " No, ma'am, but we heard him
muttering to himself last night. 'I can stand a good deal,'
said the Tooter, ' but I can't stand a strong .' We could not
hear the last word, though he said it over several times."
" Strong butter ? " suggested nurse, who had brought in some
cress, and was listening to the recital with interest
" No, it wasn't butter, I know," replied the honest miller.
" And it couldn't well be beer," said nurse, " for I'm sure our
beer is as weak as water."
Here nurse and Mr. Sampson retired, and my mother seemed
to be lost in thought.
Half an hour after, when nurse came in again to cearl away
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 29
the breakfast things, my mother said, " It is very strange that
this young man should have disappeared in such a hurry."
Nurse said nothing, but she looked wise.
" What do you consider the reason to nave been ? " asked my
mother.
" Why, really, ma'am, the children do say such strange things,
and they look so queer, bless 'em, and their play-actings are so
awful-like, that I do assure you I should often be uneasy in my
mind with them myself if I had not been used to them so
long."
"You cannot believe that 4his young man was afraid of
them ? " said my mother.
" Perhaps he thought it would save trouble to run off and
have done with it," said nurse, glancing aside from the
question.
"I really do not know what is to be done," remarked my
mother.
" Well, ma'am," answered nurse, coming to the rescue with some
practical suggestions, " the children might have their hair cut ;
and perhaps you could send to the town for some pomatum, for
Master Graham's hair sticks out just like tow ; that would make
them look better. And then they might be particular forbid,"
she continued, glancing at us with a severe regard of control,
" particular forbid to talk their gibberish language, or act their
Hamlets and their other spirits, or ask the next gentleman any
outlandish questions that nobody that ever lived can answer, till
he gets used to them."
" Next market-day Mr." Sampson had better be asked to bring
some pomatum," replied my mother.
" Thank you, ma'am ; and I could cut Missy's hair short my-
self if I might ; it will be quite ruined by the time she is grown
up if she wears it now so long and rough."
My mother had already taken up her book. " Well, nurse,
just as you like," said she. No steps were taken on that day,
but there was a long consultation between nurse and Mrs. Samp-
son ; and when, one week after, mamma announced that she had
engaged another tutor, our hair was all cropped short under their
joint superintendence in Mr. Sampson's kitchen. A quantity of
pomatum was next rubbed into it, and if we did no\ ft\saAw&L
30 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
like other children, as they flattered themselves, we certainly
looked very different from our former selves. Our mother and
nurse did not take much trouble to inform us beforehand of what
was going to happen. We heard one day at breakfast that the
new tutor was coming at ten o'clock, and nurse occupied herself
for a long while over my toilet and Snap's, shaking her head over
my hands, and lamenting that they were as brown as berries.
But her homely counsel proved to be good, and the pains she
had taken to make us look like other children made us wish to
be like them. We felt abashed at firsts supposing ourselves to
be in a manner impostors who must carefully conceal what we
were, lest Mr. Smith, our second tutor, should run away also.
He did not find us out for some time, and when he did, was
not induced to leave us on that account, but reigned over us for
more than a year to our great advantage, and then left us for no
reason connected with our oddities.
CHAPTER V.
"The owl, for all his feathers, was acold." Keats.
So Mr. Smith went away, and during the following winter my
mother was our teacher in the morning, and we ran about over
the common during the short winter afternoons.
Those little houses were not comfortable in the winter ; we
slept in one and breakfasted in the other, so that in all weathers
we were obliged to be often running in and out. The rain and
the melted snow also soaked in at the doors rather freely, and
the casements, besides being of a restless, noisy disposition, had
a trick of bursting open in high winds."
Yet we were often indescribably happy in those cottages.
Their loneliness gave us the sense of having nobody to interfere
with our becoming more and more ourselves. At Christmas there
was a deep fall of snow ; it was not safe to go to church. And
OFF THE SKELLTGS. 31
our nurse, who could no longer bear the dulness of her lot, went
away.
How it snowed, and how keen the wind was ! I remember to
this day the disgust with which we heard Sampson advising my
mother by no means to let us go out, lest we should be lost.
" Let them dig and sweep out a path for themselves, ma'am,"
said he ; " but if I were you, I would not let them stir a step
beyond it." When it had gone on snowing for eleven days, there
was a consultation between the miller and his wife as to whether
or not he should go in his cart to market the next day ; and I
believe he would gladly have stayed at home, but that there was
no butcher's meat in either his house or ours, and we were falling
short of candles.
There was a ridge about half a mile long, that rose a hundred
yards beyond the mill. It was level, and the wind had been so
high that the top of it was nearly bared of snow, and the drifts
were laid up in the hollow that cut us off from it.
Sampson anda man who came to help him, dug a lane in the
easiest part of the rise, and got the horse and cart up it. Once
on the rise, Sampson could easily get on, for by taking an ex-
tremely circuitous path he could keep on high ground till he
reached the turnpike road.
We had finished our supper, as I remember, that night, and
had been allowed to sit up till ten o'clock, because our little bed-
rooms were so cold ; when just as the candle burnt down into
the socket, mamma told us to read a chapter in the Bible to her
before we went to bed. "And, I suppose, we must begin to
burn the last candle," she observed.
So Snap was sent to ask for it (for I need not say we had no
bells), and he presently came back with rather a blank face.
" We're not to have it," he exclaimed ; " Mrs. Sampson has
come for it."
Sarah, our maid, followed him, trembling.
" Sampson is not come home, ma'am," she cried ; " and, oh, if
you please, will you come to Mrs. Sampson's ? for she thinks he
is lost in the snow."
Mrs. Sampson was close behind her, standing with a dull,
white face; her hands were hanging at her side, and she said
slowly, and with a sort of passionless indifference . "Xea, %b&&*
32 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
just what I do think. He's lost in the snow, and by this time
he's froze."
My mother had started up, and taken hold of her. " Where
have you been 1 " she exclaimed. " Sarah ! the poor thing is
dreadfully cold."
"I've been sitting up a-top of the mill," she replied; "I
want your other candle to show a light to him ; but he won't
come, he's froze."
Sampson's great white cat, that lived in the mill, had accom-
panied her, and was mewing uneasily, and rubbing himself
against my mother's gown.
" He knows as well as I do, poor beast," said Mrs. Sampson ;
and certainly the dumb creature showed every sign of distress.
"But I must go back and snuff the candle," she continued;
" I left it burning, and there is but an inch of it left,"
" Do," said my mother, " come to the mill, and I will come with
you. It is late certainly for him to be away, but you must not
be downhearted."
" Oh no," she replied, looking drearily about "her, " I am not
downhearted ; why should I be ? "
Sarah and my mother glanced at one another, but neither
could suggest the doing of anything more. They got Mrs.
Sampson to drink some wine made hot in a little saucepan,
then a log was put on the fire, and as it could not be expected
of us that we should go to bed, we had leave to sit by it, and
they left us my mother to sit with the poor wife, and Sarah
to make herself useful in case Sampson appeared. We sat by
that fire a long time. Our mother did not appear, so at last we
crept up-stairs to my little bedroom and looked out. There was
the light burning in the upper window of the mill, there was the
wide expanse of snow with the great white moon hanging over
it, and beyond on the ridge there Were the owls flitting about
mousing and hooting. I never liked the owl's call it is but
two notes of music tied together with a moan.
We listened. No sound of wheels, no sign of our mother's
return. Our cuckoo-clock struck eleven, and with one accord
we put on our out-of-door clothing, and resolved to run across
to the mill, and beg her to let us stay with her there.
Running briskly along the path we got to the mill-door and
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 33
opened it, letting in a broad ray of moonlight, which showed us
the mice running about, but we heard no voices above. We
thought our mother must be gone to the cottage.
Of course whatever my brother did I did He shut the door,
and said he should get up by Sampson's path on to the ridge.
I followed, and we both fell into a drift almost directly, and
were up to our necks without much chance of getting out again.
There was snow in our nostrils, and our sleeves and hats had
snow in them ; but I cannot say I was afraid, because we were
so close to the mill Still I did think it a pity Snap would
insist on floundering up the path instead of trying to get back
again; but I followed, and in less time than could have been
hoped we came to a place where the drift had been carefully
shovelled away and beaten down, and got on the ridge, which
was nearly bared by the wind. It was so thinly covered with
snow that the tops of the grass peered through. It was also
printed with the feet of rabbits, not a few of whom were
dancing about on it seeking a scanty meal, while an owl here
and there might be seen skimming about looking after the
young ones.
I cannot describe the excitement that took possession of our
minds at that moment. There we were out in the snow in the
middle of the night, on the ridge that we had so long desired to
reach. Nobody knew of our absence. The tall white mill with
its lanky skeleton sails looked clear and large in the intense
moonlight ; the clean white ridge was before us ; the heavens,
swept bare of clouds and glittering with stars, appeared wonder-
fully deep and remote ; the rabbits darted by close to our feet ;
the hooting owls almost brushed our clothes. We stood a
moment panting with joy at finding ourselves in such a novel
situation, and then Snap tossed back his head like a young colt
that has regained his liberty, and set off running along the ridge
at his utmost speed.
Of course I followed, and we both utterly forgot poor Sampson
in the bliss of that midnight enterprise. The wild flight of those
clear shadows of ourselves that sped on before, the strange silence,
broken by noises yet more strange, such as the hooting of an owl
as she stood on the snow picking the bones of some hairy little,
victim, or the forlorn squeal of a rabbit when it ielt \tafc iaxttiYJ\%
34 OFF THE SKELLTGS.
wings of its fate sailing over it in ghostlike stillness, and shut-
ting out the light of the moon. On we ran, wild with excite-
ment and delight. We could not be seen from the cottage, nor
from the window in the mill, and we did not stop till we came
to the end of the ridge, which was about half a mile long, and
descended so abruptly that two or three steps too far brought
Snap up to his eyes in the drift again.
And now came the return; that was more thoughtful and
slow. What if we should be discovered? we were tired, too,
and were in twenty minds whether to hasten or linger. To
linger was to prolong the time before discovery should over-
take us; but if we hastened we might not be found out at
all.
Sometimes running, sometimes loitering, we had perhaps
traversed half the ridge, were very cross, rather cold, and in ex-
ceedingly low spirits, when suddenly Snap exclaimed, with a
vehement shout of joy, " Hurrah ! there's the horse there's
the cart ; " and before I could see them his voice dropped, and
he said, " I don't see Sampson."
I looked, and at the side of the ridge a very little way down
the shallow slope I saw the horse and cart, and something in
the cart. The horse was standing stock stilL He had evidently
been guided up to the foot of the ridge, but perhaps it had proved
too steep for him, and he either would not or could not climb it.
We ran hastily on, well aware that Sampson must have lost
his way, or he would not have gone into that hollow at all ;
and when we drew near we saw that he was lying in the bottom
of the cart, and appeared to be dozing.
Snap was again in an ecstasy. At the harvest home, Sampson,
usually the most sober of men, had been reported to have come
home "a little fresh;" Snap thought this was the case again,
and shouted to me to come down the slope and get into the
cart, for he meant to drive it to the mill himself. His joy and
pride were great, and mine, I suppose, must have helped me to
flounder through the snow. My hat was full of it when he
helped me to climb into the clumsy thing, and I sobbed for
want of breath ; but as he said it was all right, I was ashamed
to cry, and he picked up the whip and began to use all his
efforts to induce the horse to back. The poor beast was very
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 35
stiff and weary; but blows, shouts, and vigorous pulls at the
bridle roused him at last, and Snap mounted and began his
triumphant progress.
But Snap, child as he was, soon perceived that though he
could make the horse go, he could not make him take the
direction he had intended.
The creature woke up more and more, and tried the ridge in
two or three different places, backing when he found he* could
not drag the cart up, and making for an easier slope. At last,
with incredible efforts, and kickings and stumblings most lamen-
table, he got up. All this time poor Sampson slumbered, while
we in our ignorance did not attempt to wake him, lest he should
take the reins from us ; all we did for him was to clear the
snow from his face, and shake it from his garments, when it
flew into the cart, while the horse struggled in the deep drift.
And now we were on the top of the ridge; and that accom-
plished, the horse stood stock still again. I remember that
this time it was very hard to make him move, but by dint of
shouts, stamping, and use of the whip, we got him in the end
to set forth on a tolerably quick trot; and we had nearly
reached the path we had ascended, when out of the mill issued
Mrs. Sampson, my mother, and Sarah, running as if for their
lives. The happy sound of the wheels had reached them, and
at the same time the exceeding noise and disturbance in the
cart, together with grievous jolting and rattling, roused poor
Sampson a little, and just as we stopped and Mrs. Sampson
sprang into the cart, he lifted his head from his breast.
"Oh, my blessed, blessed husband," exclaimed the poor
woman, bursting into tears, and taking his head on her capacious
bosom, " are you froze, John ? How do you feel ? "
Sampson looked about him and raised himself. She shook him,
repeating, " How do you feel, John ? " Whereupon he exerted
himself sufficiently to answer very slowly, " I feel as if all my
bones were broke."
Never was the wisest speech received with greater applause.
No one took any notice of us. The moon was just setting,
and I remember seeing mother stand with a pitched fagot held
high to light us into the cottage by the mill. I. remember, also^
that when hrst they wished Sampson to toy and Y"flSk &ovtdl to
36 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
his door, he looked forlornly at us, and said slowly, with a deep
sigh, "Women and children, women and children," but he
was obliged to yield himself to our help, and we all four pushed,
pulled, and supported him till he got into his house, and then
he said to my mother, " Well, ma'am, I could humbly wish to
know whatever all this means."
The next morning Snap was alternately penitent and exultant,
and while we were waiting till my mother came down to break-
fast, he made one of those speeches which, because I could not
make out its meaning, I could not forget.
"I'll tell you what," said this puny philosopher, "I used
always to hate the morals, but it's no good ! They're in every-
thing. It's my belief they're a part of the world. Yes, they're
ingrain."
I had generally disliked the morals too; what child takes
kindly to " hence we may learn " ? but I by no means troubled
myself as to Snap's general meaning; and my mother shortly
coming down, he gave her a fair and faithful account of our
midnight adventure, adding, "It is a wonder how Missy ever
scrambled out of that drift ; it was over her head ! I thought
for a minute she was lost when she rolled plump into it, and the
snow fell together and covered her, and so," he added in a tone
of deep reflection, " and so, mother, I've made up my mind to
give it up." " For," he continued, " of course we had no busi-
ness to go out at night and get into danger, and it would be fair
if you were to say that was evil."
" I certainly do say so," she replied, " though I have no inten-
tion of punishing you. I cannot even pretend that I am dis-
pleased ! I am very thankful."
" Yes," said Snap, " for we saved Sampson's life."
" So now," replied my mother, " I hope I shall hear no more
of this morbid fancy of yours. Here you have an easy example
of how good can come out of evil, so don't lie awake again to
puzzle about it. The case of Joseph is not a solitary one. It
may be said a thousand times every day on earth, as it is* m
heaven, 'As for you, your thoughts were for evil, but God
meant it unto good' God looked on this evil, you see, and
caused it to bring forth good."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 37
CHAPTER VI.
"Who shall decide when doctors disagree?"
Mb. Sampson got slowly better, and now followed two years,
during which we were governed by a succession of tutors, some
of whom were very inefficient, and most of whom were very young.
The last but one ran away, like the first, previously borrowing of
my mother a small sum of money which she had by her. In the
reign of the tutor who followed him, our absent father began
again to become an important personage in our estimation. I
used to hear of his letters, how he sent his love to us ; and
how mamma might now be able to go out to him to Australia,
but that she could not take us with her, and could not afford to
put us to school and leave us behind.
We also learnt that we owed our food and education entirely
to our mother's exertions, and that the " Mathewmatics," as
nurse had long ago called her different scientific investigations
and studies, had prove*} profitable, for that though papa had
prospered since he left England, he had not yet been able to pay
the debts contracted before he left us.
Towards the end of these years prospects brightened. Many
new clothes were made for us. Our mother, though she seemed
happy, would sometimes look at us with a tender regret, and
treat us with outward demonstrations of affection which were not
usual with her.
She also conversed with us much more than usual. A sort of
instinct told me the reason: and one day, in the dusk of a
summer evening, I put my arms round her neck and whispered,
" Mamma, are you going to Australia ? "
In the same tone she answered, "Yes, my dearest child,
yes."
She wept and I wept for a few minutes.
" Are we going to school, mamma, and won't you let us come
out to you soon ? " I inquired, sobbing quietly.
She seemed unable to talk, but told me that my brother knew
everything, and I might ask him.
So when we had kissed each other a great many \,\inft^ mi
38 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
cried together, I went to find Tom, and he told me that in one
week mamma was going to sail, and that we were going to
school.
This he told me in nearly as few words as I have here set
down, adding that Uncle Kollin was so very kind that he had
promised to take charge of us.
We knew this Uncle Kollin very well by reputation. My
mother often talked of him. He had brought her up, acted
like a father to her, and during her school-holidays she had
spent many a happy week with him on board his yacht.
" But I thought he always lived in his yacht," I observed,
" and had no house ? "
So he did, Tom told me, and we were to go there also till it
suited him to put us to school.
The very next morning Uncle Kollin appeared, together with
a weather-beaten sailor. The first words we heard him say,
after he had kissed our mother, were in praise of this sailor, who
had been some years ago, he told us, steward of the " Nancy,"
of Havre.
We regarded Uncle Kollin with attention. He was ruddy,
hale, and, moreover, remarkably shy ; while he ate his breakfast
he maintained silence, unless when he spoke to the steward, in
whose presence he seemed to find comfort, and who waited on
him.
Uncle Kollin saw mamma shedding tears, and, in order to
comfort her, forthwith began to describe his yacht by name
the "Curlew." He assured her that we should have many
comforts while we were on board ; and that as for the boy, if
his tutor could take to a sea life, he might probably not send
him away at all ; that every fine Sunday, when he was in port,
he landed and went to church, and in foul weather he had a
church rigged in the chief cabin, so that there need be no fear
lest we should grow up like heathens.
He was a very remarkable person. Even at that early age I
was impressed by his peculiarities, his intense shyness, his dis-
like to being looked at, and his silence.
He had been brought up to the sea, and when young had
been a lieutenant in the navy, but he had early left the service,
and having come into possession of a handsome independence,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 39
he had chosen a way of life that developed his eccentricities
more and more.
The " Curlew," as it appeared, was a handsome fore-and-aft
schooner of 300 tons, built upon the lines of a Bermuda clipper,
and manned by a picked crew.
These facts conveyed little to our minds, but the manner in
which they were said abundantly proved that the owner of the
"Curlew" was proud of his yacht; accordingly, as we were
about to sail in her, we became proud of her too, and hearing
what a fast sailer she was, we were glad, for we supposed that
would add to our dignity.
He talked for some time to our mother, and we gathered that
this said fore - and - aft vessel (mysterious expressions, meaning-
less, but fascinating) was fitted up with unusually large cabins.
There was the chief cabin, whose size and convenience the
captain greatly insisted on; there were three charming state-
rooms ; and, moreover, there was an after cabin, which had been
fitted up expressly for his late sister, was sometimes used as a
sleeping apartment, and also as a drawing-room. This cabin I
learned that I was to have so long as I remained on board. In
one berth I was to sleep, and my clothes, my toys, and my
books were to be disposed in the lockers.
My mother's face brightened as these contemplated arrange-
ments were unfolded to her ; and as for me, my heart danced
with delight.
" And what had he done with the old brig ? " she inquired.
The old brig was dear to her heart as the occasional home
of her girlhood ; and she and Uncle Kollin began to talk of the
black hull as if it were a sentient thing, and with as much
affection as they might have naturally felt if the said hull had
been able to return the sentiment.
" I hope my boy and girl will be dutiful and good," she pre-
sently said.
" Why, as to children," he replied kindly, " I never did mind
them; but this tutor* Mary Anne, he is a peaceable, quiet
man, and will not make trouble and mischief, eh, Mary
Anne?"
" He is the most passive of mortals."
" He can have one of the state-rooms and youi \fj \tafc o0v\et,
40 OFF THE SEELLI6S.
I say, that boy has a head ! Is he like what you were at his
age?"
" He is not very different," said my mother, with a smile.
" Then I'll turn schoolmaster again, and teach him naviga-
tion."
Tom, upon this, was vehement in his thanks, and I, suppos-
ing that navigation must be a delightful study, cried out,
" And me too, Uncle Eollin. I want to learn navigation."
Tom began to explain that navigation was not at all a fit
study for a girl, but mamma checked him, perhaps because she
knew that to be willing to learn navigation was to take the
shortest way to the old man's heart.
Indeed, having thus favourably brought myself under his
notice, he patted me on the head, and remarked that my mother
was about my present height when she first began to sail in the
old brig with him.
The old brig, as we afterwards learned, had been quite a crack
vessel in her day, a privateer ; and even now she looked well at
sea, though she had suffered so much in a late gale that he had
almost decided not to let her move from her moorings any
more. We understood that several old mariners were pensioned
off by him, and allowed to find a congenial home in her.
" And," said he, " the people had nothing to do, so I am em-
ploying them in caulking her sides and overhauling her stand-
ing rigging."
" And yet she is never to go to sea again," said our mother, in
a tone of absolute regret.
" Not she, but I could not bear to strip her like a wreck/'
After this Tom and I went out with our little sister Amy.
Dear little Amy was going with mamma, and in the meantime
we could hardly endure her out of our sight. We gave her the
handsomest of our possessions, and the most gaudy of the
pictures painted with our own hands, and she promised to learn
to write running hand that she might write letters to us.
When we came in we found poor mamma very nervous,
and much agitated. Uncle Kollin was gone out " for a stretch "
over the hills, and had said that he positively must leave her in
two days and take us with him.
I will not attempt to describe the intervening two days. The
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 41
anguish that children cause under such circumstances b j their
delight in the bustle and their excitement of joy in the prospect
of a change, we no doubt inflicted on our mother at intervals.
We cried when we saw her distress, but we felt little real
oppression of heart ; and our boxes were packed, and the y and
our mother's great crates full of books were travelling by a
waggon across the country, and we were ten miles away from
our mother and our little sister and from the great green common
by breakfast time on the third day.
I was a strange little creature, as I gather from things that I
have heard said since by people who knew me then. But no
less strange was my new guardian : he was very silent, very ill
at ease, the land sights and sounds oppressed him, he longed for
his yacht, yet he took a curious interest in a bunch of wild
flowers which some village children gave me when we stopped
to change horses.
We travelled all day. Sometimes I thought of my dear
Tnamm^ and cried when I considered how dull she would be
without us ; but with all my yearnings after her, I was quite
unaware what a great loss she really was to me.
Evening came on, the July sun set, then it grew dark, and I
fell sound asleep with weariness, but even in my dreams, little
fool that I was, I thought of my dear mamma with sympathy,
and wished she could know how comfortable we were.
At last somebody shook me. I woke, looked out of the
window, saw the stars and heard voices. Three sailors were
standing by the chaise ; it had stopped, and they were taking
down the boxes.
Uncle Rollin led me across a meadow. I was very sleepy,
and when we stopped, looking forward into the darkness, I saw
numbers of stars glittering and wavering in the path, and under-
stood that we were standing by the bank of a river; but I
belonged to new people now, so though I was afraid I did not
dare to say a word.
We were shortly put into a boat. They had said that we
were going on board in the gig ; Uncle Rollin himself had said
that this was his gig, but sleepy as I was I heard the splashing
of oars, and thought I knew better. There was quite li^ht
enough after a time to show that we were alongside a \AafcY \v\AY
42 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and then there were lanthorns to light us up a queer kind of
ladder.
Every one has seen the cabin of a yacht, but how difficult it
would be to describe it ! When I had been carried down the
companion into the chief cabin of the " Curlew," I became wide
awake ; and when I saw the rich fittings, the low ceiling, the
strange lamp and fixed tables, and the general air of crowding
and yet of order, I felt as if I was in fairy-land, and this was
an enchanted palace.
As I ate my supper I however soon became sleepy again, and
nodded between each mouthful, till a respectable-looking woman
entering received orders to take me to bed. She led me into a
beautiful and luxurious little room, told me it was to be mine,
and enlarged on its splendour and my fortunate position in being
its sole possessor. I was amazed at the velvet and the gilding,
and enchanted with my curious little bed, no less than with my
new attendant, who told me she had formerly been the stewardess
of a passenger vessel at the same time that her husband was
steward, and that now she washed for my uncle, and mended
and made his linen ; but she was very glad we were come, for
she had not half enough to do, and was often strangely dull. I
might tell my mamma that she meant to be good to me I
might say that she was right glad to have me. " Mrs. Brand
sent her respects," I could say, " and wished her to make her
mind easy, for she should reckon it a pleasure to attend to me."
I repeated this message to myself till I went to sleep, and in a
vivid dream seemed to be telling my mother what a beautiful
and most extraordinary place the " Curlew " was.
The next morning I woke and looked about me bewildered,
the most wonderful thing I saw being the view through the tiny
window close to my face. Oh what a lovely sight ! a softly flow-
ing river, with orange rays lying on it, and making it glorious and
golden; a great precipice that went up and up and up so high, that
though I pressed my face against the glass I could not see the
top of it ; trees growing in the rents; ivy in round bushes hang-
ing from, or in long ribbons creeping up, the face of the rock,
and wavering reflections of the passing ripples flowing all over
my berth. The softest possible sound of water washing by and
lapping the vessel's side came to my enchanted ears, and I
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 43
climbed down from my berth and began to dress with all expe-
dition. Mrs. Brand came in shortly, told me it was late, but
she thought I should have been tired, and therefore had not
called me. She then opened a box, took out one of my new
bonnets, a little cloak that mamma had made for me, and a sun-
shade, and desired that in future I would not rise till she came
to me, for she should always wish to brush my hair herself.
" Young ladies," she remarked rather crossly, " had no call to
wait on themselves, and ought not to think of it ; " then looking
over the contents of my boxes, she shook her head disconsolately,
and said, " Bless my heart, everything's new, there's not a stitch
wanted anywhere. "
" Mamma gave me some cotton, and I am to mend my clothes
when they are torn," I said, by way of showing that I meant to
be a good child.
" You are to do no such thing, Miss," she answered sharply.
"I have particulars orders most particular to wait on you
myself."
CHAPTER VII.
" Oh I methinks how slow
This old moon wanes I She lingers my desires,
Like to a step-dame or a dowager
Long withering out a young man's revenue."
Midtumtuer Nigkfs Dream.
And now followed a week that I shall always think of with
pleasure, because all things being so new and strange, made deep
impressions ; and partly owing to the loveliness of the scenery,
partly to the perfect weather, and partly to the kindness of
Uncle Rollin, all these impressions were delightful.
He loved fishing and he loved solitude, and every morning
while Brand waited at breakfast we used to hear orders given
about fishing-tackle, bread and meat, &c. ; then, generally after
a short pause of doubt, he would decide to take us with him.
We were expected, however, to be perfectly quie\ in\ta&\m\^
44 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and we seldom expressed our pleasure excepting by stealthy-
glances at one another, till perhaps after a long pull he would
steer for some level field, and put us ashore for two or three
hours to run about and make as much noise as we pleased.
At the end of the week, as something had to be done to the
yacht, he took us to an hotel close to the Wyndcliffs. Something
almost always seems to want doing to a yacht, as far as I can see.
She wants painting six times as often as a house. When she is
in port, everything in her is overhauled, and any one would think
that a day or two of work, after she starts on her voyage, would
get her into sea trim ; but no, from the day she leaves one port
till she sails into another, they are always scraping and scrubbing
her, though she has no chance of contracting any dirt or dust,
excepting from the frequent tarring, the endless painting and
varnishing, and the greasing that goes on. People usually sup-
pose that there must be rest and quiet at sea, but I never saw
any; sailors shout and sing so at their work, and what with
hauling and setting sail, with reefing and furling, and their climb-
ing about in every direction night and day, the noisiest town is
more quiet than the " Curlew " was when I was on board her.
So, as I said, we were taken to an hotel, and there we did not
see much of our old uncle, but were generally under Mrs. Brand's
care. She was allowed to hire a fly for us and take us about,
and under her auspices we climbed over Banagar crags, and saw
the green river beneath, with the little white boat on her bosom.
Sometimes we were 800 feet high on the upland of the Wynd-
cliff, or ran stumbling along among the ruins of Chepstow castle.
Our tutor, Mr. Tolhurst, made his appearance while we were
still at this hotel, but as he was supposed to know his duties
towards us, Uncle Kollin never took the least notice of him
beyond the first greeting, and never asked any questions even
then.
Not so Mrs. Brand ; she regarded him with great disfavour,
and because the poor man made some remark tending to show
that he meant to go out with us after our lessons, she rose trem-
bling with indignation, and gave him a piece of her mind. * i What
did he think she was there for ? She would have him to know
that she had particular orders to take care of us excepting at such
times as we were at our learning with him. He had no call so
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 45
much as to think about us at other times. 1 ' She was explaining
this to him with great heat, and would have gone into her quali-
fications for the task, if he had not cut her short by declaring
his entire satisfaction, and marching off to smoke with much
alacrity.
" Interfering fellow," she exclaimed when he was gone, " if I
wasn't sharp enough to look after my rights there wouldn't be a
thing left for me to do in this blessed world."
So she bore us off, and very happy we were with her, some-
times driving out, sometimes scrambling over the cliffs, and often
going to see the lovely " Curlew," and fetch things out of her
that might be wanted.
She also took a world of trouble to teach us the names of
various sails, but I do not remember that I took a special interest
in any one but the spanker, the after fore-and-aft saiL According
to one of her stories, the boom of this alarming sail had knocked
a man overboard. I did not doubt the fact ; spanker seemed a
name only suitable for people and things that knew how to lay
about them, and I was greatly delighted when she said the yacht
had no spanker. Tom seemed to be very quick at understanding
all she chose to tell him about the yacht. I was very much the
reverse, but she comforted me by assurances that I should soon
learn when we got on board.
This desirable event at last took place. We were charged by
Mrs. Brand to be " as good as gold," and we should see the anchor
hove up. I did not think much of this sight ; but the river in
a great state of commotion and mud, and two little tug steamers
backing and charging about like noisy, quarrelsome ducks, were
well worth looking at. And when it was high tide how busy
every one was, and how grand it seemed to be towed out by one
of them, and come rocking and curtseying on till we saw the
great ships and the blue delightful sea.
But my pleasure in this sight was soon over. I became first
very unhappy, and then very ill. I was carried down by Mrs.
Brand and laid in my berth, and night and day for nearly a week
I endured the misery of sea-sickness.
Every morning Uncle Rollin came to the side of my berth and
condoled with me, and Tom used to sit by me and try to amuse
me, but in vain. At last one day all at once it "becma $kcu \
46 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
opened my eyes, and saw the banks of a river. Tom ran down
to congratulate. I might now get up. We were in smooth water,
and about to cast anchor.
Mrs. Brand dressed me and carried me on deck. This was
the Orwell, I was told. Those pretty banks led up to the village
of Holbrook, and this red and particularly ugly town that we
were approaching was Ipswich.
I was so weak and ill that I sat on Uncle Rollin's knee, while
Tom fed me with some soup, Uncle Eollin then for the first time
showing a great liking for me, and seeming full of concern and
self-reproach. However, he told me by way of comfort that find-
ing I did not take kindly to a sea life he had resolved to put me
to school for a time, and there, he said, I should learn to play
on the piano and do lambswool work like other little girls.
I was very much dejected on hearing this, but did not say
anything, and shortly after the gig was manned and we went on
shore. I then asked Tom, who seemed very low and dull,
whether there was any help for this, and he said " No." To my
comfort and surprise he shed a few tears of regret at this inevit-
able parting. No action of his since my memory began had ever
given me such pleasure, and to this day when I think of it I am
glad.
How soon this to me important affair was arranged. Uncle
Kollin had called on an old naval officer whom he knew, and
asked if he could recommend a good school.
" My granddaughter," was the reply, " is with Mrs. BelL"
" Are they good to the girls there ? " asked my uncle, " and do
they take 'em to church, and see that they read their Bibles ? "
" All right as to that," replied the friend, " and the girls must
be well cared for, they look so fresh and rosy."
This conversation Uncle Rollin repeated to me when he came
on board. He had not inquired the terms or any further par-
ticulars, but he had nearly decided to place me with this
lady.
I cried when he told me so, and felt very desolate at the notion
of leaving him. When I expressed this he was greatly gratified,
and said, " Why, the child seems actually fond of me ! "
The next day, dressed in my best, and holding Tom by the
hand, I walked with Uncle Eollin to call on and perhaps be left
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 47
with the mistress of my future lot. We went down many nar-
row streets, and came at last to an ugly house, as I then thought
it, but I was too much agitated to observe things very keenly.
We were shown into a parlour, and Uncle Rollin, made exces-
sively nervous by my tears and Tom's perturbed manner, wiped
his brow, groaned, and declared that he wished the business was
well over.
A lady came in, a few hurried compliments were paid, and
some kind directions given ; then some parting kisses from both,
and a present of five sovereigns from Uncle Rollin, and off they
both went in urgent haste to terminate the nervous business.
I was not happy there, but some of the things that made me
uncomfortable, so dull, and so lonely, were no fault of Mrs.
Bell's. Some were my fault.
One thing it was natural and inevitable that I should feel
during those nine long years. This was the extreme youth of
all the other pupils. I was the eldest when I entered ; I became
increasingly the eldest, for during the whole time of my stay no
pupil left school at a more advanced age than ten years. I was
thus utterly deprived of companionship. It was essentially a
preparatory schooL I admit that in my education this did not
matter. My uncle paid most liberally, and Mrs. Bell procured
excellent masters for me and for me only. I took all my
lessons alone, as far as fellow-learners were concerned.
One grievance there, was a sad disadvantage to a child whose
mother was at a distance : all the letters were read, not except-
ing those addressed to her, and all the letters received were also
read, before the girls saw them.
This was duly mentioned to Uncle Rollin, but he did not
understand that it would soon shut me off from real intercourse
with my family. My overlooked letters became short, stupid,
and constrained, and in consequence the replies suffered, and
were increasingly vague and meagre.
All the strange and unusual things that I knew were useless,
and ignorance of music at first embittered my days. I had to
practise three hours a day, but with no taste, and a strong yearn-
ing after other pursuits. I scarcely made any progress at first,
excepting in the theory.
No, certainly it is of no use my trying to pemauta TKj%^i
48 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
that those were happy years. They were not. I had none to
love but the little chubby pupils ; no one ever talked to me but
the masters. Moreover, I stayed at school during the holidays,
and for three years I never saw Uncle Rollin or my brother.
Then I saw them both for one half hour. Oh, shall I ever
forget how I looked at them, especially at Tom, and how my
heart ached to see that assuredly if I had met him in the street
I should not have known him !
He was a great fellow of fifteen, browned by exposure to sea
breezes, and with a general air of a young naval officer about
him. He was pleased to see me, and when he spoke, I did not
recognise his voice, it was so changed.
" Should you know me, dear Tom ? " I ventured to ask.
" Know you ? " he answered, laughing ; " why, you are not at
all altered, and very little grown. What a little thing you are,
Dorothy. I say," he continued, while Mrs. Bell talked to Uncle
Rollin, " how tame you look, Missy. You used to be such a
bold, daring little creature ; don't let them domineer too much ;
pluck up a little spirit."
How soon that precious half hour was over. When Uncle
Rollin rose to depart, I forgot the presence of Mrs. Bell, and
burst into tears, imploring Tom not to forget me, and Uncle
Rollin to let me come back soon.
Uncle Rollin was troubled, and began, " H she was not such
a puny little thing, I would take her back now." And he
looked at Mrs. Bell, who, before Tom could say a word, assured
him calmly that it was quite essential I should remain at school
a few years longer.
Then they took leave of me ; and for many weeks after my
little snatches of leisure were cheered by a long delightful letter
that Tom left in my hand. It roused my courage, and nerved
me to be indifferent to little discomforts, and bear all with a
brave heart. Moreover, it told me of an arrangement which I
soon felt the benefit of. I was to have a master to read English
literature with me, and under his auspices I might read any
books that the town library afforded. He was also to teach me
Greek at Tom's desire, a language I had already a smattering of,
having begun it with him.
If the girls had been of my own age, and Mrs. Bell had been
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 49
in the least fond of me, the end of this would have been that I
should have ceased to care for my relations, and have attached
myself entirely to the people about me. As it was, I clung
pertinaciously to the memory of my mother, Uncle Eollin, and
Tom, and longed for the day when school life would be over.
" A force de forger on devient forgeur, ,, says the proverb. When
I was sixteen I had practised till I absolutely began rather to
like music ; and this feeling gradually increased, till I found it
quite pleasant to take my lessons.
I never excelled, but I played very tolerably, and sang, as I
was assured, agreeably. When I was sixteen and a half I re-
ceived a present of a gold watch from Uncle Eollin, together
with six sovereigns, and the assurance that he and Tom would
come to see me very soon. Of course I expected them joyously
for a week ; then I expected them anxiously for another week ;
then I expected them with the sickness of hope deferred for a
third week ; and then I became ill, for the first and only time
while I was at schooL I believe nothing was the matter with
me but disappointment. It was during the Midsummer holidays.
I became very thin, very pale, and feverish; could not eat, sleep,
or sit up ; and at last a doctor was sent for. He ordered that I
should be sent to Felixstowe, a charming little place, twelve
miles from Ipswich.
I was sent with the English teacher for a month, and came
home quite cheerful, and almost strong. I had found shark's
teeth in the cliff, bought pieces of amber of the woman who
polished them, and enjoyed the sight of the sea.
I also saw lying at anchor, the brig, that famous brig in which
my mother had spent her girlhood. It lay not far from Landguard
Fort, and I could see the old sailors on board, but of course they
knew nothing about me ; and my timid proposal that we should
take a rowing boat and go out to her with some tobacco and tea,
bought with my money, was received with such horror that I
never ventured to allude to it again.
After my return came the first real sorrow of my life, but it
was broken to me with a kindness and considerate indulgence
which made me feel as if I was among friends for the first and
only time during those dull years.
Ah, well, I cannot describe this, my hasty rush. dowasXaixs^
50 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
on hearing that there was a letter for me, the sudden pause, the
slow quiet with which I was told to sit down, and the cold
that seemed to drive in upon my heart when still there was
silence.
My mother was dead : her death had taken place some time
before my illness, and one of the first thoughts that flashed into
my mind was of bitter regret that she would never read those
letters that I had written to her from Felixstowe and which I
had been allowed by the English teacher to post unread. They
were the only natural, unrestrained letters I had sent her since
our parting, but I hoped she did not want them now.
My precious mother ! and her illness had been so short ; but .
I knew she would have mentioned her far-off children if she had
been able. It was my father who wrote, and he said very little,
even that was not all about my mother, for he added his
thankfulness at Uncle Rollin's goodness to us, and his hope that
I was grateful and content.
I was greatly grieved ; but I felt, even then, that she was
doubtless far above what I knew of her. I had only lost a
child's mother, whom I recollected as careful over me, indulgent,
and kind but as my own mind and feelings had expanded, I
had believed and known that I should find her as different from
what I had seemed to part from, as I was myself different from
the child daughter who had been so sorry for her on the going
away.
" She died as she had lived, in the fear of God, and in the
peace and hope of the gospel."
Those were my father's words. Just at first I gave way to a
passion of sorrow, but after the day when those sorrowful tidings
came to me I always knew that my grief could be nothing com-
pared with that of a child who loses a present parent. The hope
of something that I had craved for was gone the hope of her
company ; but the actual difference caused by her removal was
only the ceasing of those formal letters she had sent me, know-
ing when she wrote that they would be read over before I saw
them.
It was on the first of June during this same year, and I was
between eighteen and nineteen, when the next promise came
from Uncle Eollin that he would call and see me.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 51
I was practising music when the letter was given me ; and
oh, the tumult of my mind as I read ! Tom was not with him,
he said ; an old friend of his, a Mr. Mompesson, had asked him
to come and stay a few days at his parsonage.
Fully grown up and still at school No talk of my leaving it
yet. How my heart sickened and fainted to be alone with him,
if only for an hour, that I might learn what he- meant to do
with me, something of Tom's prospects, my father's, circumstances,
and a thousand other things that I was ignorant of. Could he
be come to release me and take me on board with him ? That I
scarcely dared to think of.
I heard a knock at the door, my music came to an end, and
my heart appeared to stop too. The visitor was ushered in, and
oh, happy chance, for several minutes I was alone with him.
My delight was far too great to be disguised. He and Tom
were all I had to love in this hemisphere ; and though I ought to
have remembered that his hatred of a scene was strong enough
to make him run away from me, I expressed it in no measured
terms.
At first he was alarmed, then he held me from him with an
air of great surprise, and as I hung about him he put his hand
on my head, and said kindly, " Why, you are but a little creature,
my dear; you look like a child still shall we never make a
woman of you ? "
" Oh," I thought, " what a cruel chance that I look so young.*
Tears choked me, I could not beg him to take me with him ;
and Mrs. Bell now entering, I felt my vehemence subside;
habitual decorum prevailed ; I dried my eyes and found, with
aching distress of mind, that he had not come to take me away.
They talked on commonplace themes, my growth, my progress,
the crops, the weather. Uncle Rollin looked shy, and so great
was the agitation of my mind that I could not summon courage
to ask before Mrs. Bell whether I might leave school ; and I
believe he would actually have gone away again without hearing
my voice any more if in stooping to kiss me he had not said
" Well, my dear, is there anything you want 1 "
" Oh yes, uncle," I exclaimed.
"My dear," expostulated Mrs. Bell, "I am surprised. Is
this the decorum I expect from Miss Graham V
52 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
"There is something," I repeated, hardly knowing what I
said, "oh there is something that I want so much." He had
told me in his letter that he had put into Harwich because the
"Curlew" wanted something done to her, and I supposed,
erroneously as it appeared afterwards, that he was living on
board the other vessel; so when he repeated kindly, ""Well,
you have never asked a favour of me all these years, so Mrs.
Bell will excuse you, I hope what is it?" I exclaimed as
boldly as excessive agitation would permit, " I want to go and
spend a day with you, uncle, on board the brig."
" On board the brig ! " repeated Mrs. Bell in a faint tone of
ladylike alarm.
I was holding his hand, and rendered desperate by exceeding
desire for only one private conversation with him, repeated,
" Pray do, uncle I have never been away, never been with
you for years ! "
A ball seemed to rise in my throat, and a mist swam before
my eyes, when I said these audacious words in the august
presence of her to whom they would, I knew, be so displeasing ;
but so much depended on them that I forgot for once to be
afraid, and burst into a passion of tears, while Mrs. Bell looked
at me with grave reproof.
Uncle Kollin meantime stood mute, overcome by shyness and
surprise. But determined, if possible, to gain my point, I dried
my eyes, and vehemently entreated that I might go with him,
saying, "Uncle, you said I had not asked a favour all these
years."
" So I did," he repeated.
" Then will you, oh will you grant me this one ? May I put
on my bonnet and go with you for this one day ? "
" Well yes" he answered slowly. And, without waiting to
hear another word, I flew upstairs, snatched my bonnet, gloves,
and mantle from the drawer, and ran down equipped for the
day in less than two minutes.
Terror shook my limbs as, on reaching the foot of the stairs,
I encountered my uncle, looking very hot and shy, and Mrs.
Bell in high indignation, and with a peculiarly set expression of
firmness about her lips.
He seemed in a great hurry as well as in a great fright, and
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 53
taking my hand led me hastily to the door. Mrs. Bell was
explaining that she could not send for me in the evening ; my
uncle only replied that it was of no consequence, wishing her
good morning, and I heard the door shut after us with a thrill
of incredulous joy.
But after such a daring action as that I had committed, came
the inevitable consideration of what would become of me when
I returned in the evening, and had to bear the brunt of Mrs.
Bell's anger all alone.
So much did this thought damp my joy that I could not say
a word, but hurried with my uncle through the town, down St
Matthew's Street, and even a little way along the Whitton
Road, before I remembered that we were leaving the river
behind us.
He was quite as much bewildered as I was ; in fact, we were
both, as it were, running away.
"Uncle," I ventured to say, "we are not going the right
way ; we must turn and go down St. Peter's Street."
. "Ah, true, true," he replied; and he came back with every
appearance of perturbed feelings.
At last we reached the bridge ; it was high-water. I saw, to
my joy, the white boat that I remembered so well, and I re-
cognised the steward, who was evidently lingering about, look-
ing for Uncle Rollin.
In three minutes we were in that boat And now what good
had my hardly-won holiday done me ? Of course I could not
talk to my uncle before the sailors. I was not at all sure that
he was pleased with me, for he sat very gravely and silently,
with the tiller ropes in his hands, and without giving me any
look of kindness or encouragement.
We rowed past the wharves and reached the broader portion
of the river, then we put up a sail ; but even with this advan-
tage, I knew that we should not reach Landguard Fort till two
o'clock, and my mind became distracted with anxiety as to how
I was to get back again, and what would be said and done to
punish me and mortify me if I did not reach home till the
middle of the night ?
Still, not a word did my uncle say ; and aware that, bad as
things were, I had entirely brought them on rn^^i, \ s&\
54 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
gravely before him trying to think of some plan by which I
might return, and almost forgetting that craving for information
about my family which had lately absorbed my mind.
At last we approached not the brig, but the " Curlew : " she
was radiant with fresh paint, and was lying in Downham
Reach, evidently expecting us.
Nothing was said to me, but I went up her side when my
uncle did, and followed him into the chief cabin. Once at
home in his yacht, his constraint vanished, he first laughed
with some exultation, then kissed me kindly, and then taking
a survey of me, said, but with some hesitation, that I was
welcome. Dinner was brought in, but I, still revolving my
return to Ipswich, sat with my bonnet on.
" Come, child," said my uncle, " have you forgotten your old
berth ? Go and look at it."
I went to my cabin. How pretty and fresh it was, newly
fitted up with green and gold, and how little I cared for
that.
Mrs. Brand appeared, and seemed pleased; till, looking at
my troubled countenance, she guessed that something was
wrong. Her old desire for something to do, however, induced
her to ask if she might arrange my hair, and before it was
finished, my uncle came to the door, and I made haste and
went with him to the chief cabin, where, when we had seated
ourselves at table, he again laughed exultingly, and proceeded
to heap my plate with meat and salad.
"What are you thinking of?" he inquired, when he found
that I could neither eat nor talk.
" Mrs. Bell," I answered.
" I thought so, but she won't come on board. Fve put three
long reaches of water between us."
" But what will she say ? "
"What do I care? I shall not go to hear it; I shall send
Brand."
" Will you send a message then, and beg her not to be dis-
pleased with me ? "
" Why ? it is no affair of yours."
"If we are not at home till the middle of the night," I
answered, "Mrs. Bell will never forgive me."
OFF THE SEELLI6S. 55
"Why," exclaimed my uncle, sitting upright in his chair,
and staring at me, " I do believe the child thinks she is going
back again."
Never shall I forget what I felt when I heard those remark-
able words. I looked at his kind face, to be sure that he was
not joking ; then I looked about me with a curious notion that
I could not really be on board the " Curlew," listening to the
flow of the water, and watching the reflection of those golden
wavelets floating on the sides, that I had thought of and
dreamed of so long.
" Well," said Uncle Rollin, " can you eat your dinner now J "
" No, uncle."
" Let me have no hysterics I hate scenes."
" So do L"
" You don't want to go back to school, do you 1*
" Oh no."
" Very well, and I don't want to take you back. I came on
purpose to fetch you away, but your mistress put me in such a
fright that I could not tell her so."
" I am going to stay here really and truly, and never going to
see Mrs. Bell any more ? "
" Really and truly going to stay away, and never going to see
Mrs. Bell any more, with my consent, that is the exact state
of the case ; and enough to say about it. I am angry, I want
my dinner, and I want to see you eat yours."
CHAPTER Vin.
M This sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are upgatherM now like sleeping flowers
For this, for everything, we are out of tune ;
It moves us not." Wordsworth.
I took up my knife and fork and began to eat in a dream of
delight and gratitude that became sweeter every moment, M.^
uncle had never looked bo kind and venerable, tiifc catovxi Sfciea\fc&
56 OFF THE SKELL1GS.
a gorgeous place, the taste of the meat was delicious never had
I eaten such salad ! The rush of the water was music, the voices
of the sailors overhead, their footsteps, and all the sounds in the
vessel, came back to my recollection like the poetry of life waking
up after a long sleep, and my heart danced for joy at this sudden
return to home and freedom.
Brand, the steward, came in with a large jam roll, that
favourite sea pudding.
"Brand," said Uncle Rollin, "Miss Graham has run away
from school."
The steward looked surprised, and answered gravely, "Very
well, sir."
" She's come aboard with no outfit," continued Uncle Rollin ;
"you must go and fetch her books, and clothes, and all her
other stores."
" Ay, ay, sir," replied the steward.
" Man the jolly-boat, and set off as soon as may be."
Uncle Rollin then began to eat his pudding, as if he intended
to give no further orders, but though Brand knew this was no
time to ask questions, he did not proceed to act, but stood quietly
by till my uncle had finished his pudding. I then said to him,
" Will you send a note, uncle, or some directions ? "
" HI send a cheque," he replied, " the rest you must manage.
Fetch your wife, Brand."
No sooner said than done enter steward with his wife.
Uncle Rollin was cutting a piece of cheese, and without looking
up he said, " Brand and Mrs. Brand."
" Yes, sir," said the wife, answering for both.
" Miss Graham is come on board for good."
" Glad to hear it, sir, I'm sure ; and hope you find yourself
pretty well, Miss," said Mrs. Brand, though she had seen me
before.
"Miss Graham's orders in this vessel are to be obeyed like
my own," he continued, " in all matters that concern her. There
now, for goodness' sake, arrange the matter for yourself, Doro-
thea ; and Brand, give me a glass of stout."
He evidently did not mean to say another word, and I, blush-
ing up to the eyes, could not make up my mind to give orders
before him, bo I said to Mrs. Brand tnal aitac &raiM I would
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 57
come and consult with her what had better be done, and she
curtseyed and withdrew. When dinner was over and we were
alone, Uncle Eollin took out his purse, and without a word of
preparation said to me,
" I mean to allow you thirty pounds a year for your clothes,
as I did your mother before you."
While I was trying to thank him with something like the
gratitude I felt, he counted out seven pounds ten shillings, rung
the money on the table as if to prove that it was good, and said,
" There is your first quarter's allowance."
I should like to have kissed him, and perhaps the expression
of my face when he rose from the table made him think I wished
for something more, for he stopped when he had nearly reached
the door, and said with a sigh and a little impatience of manner,
" You will have the same accommodation as before, and no one
is to enter your cabin without your permission. Have you any-
thing to say ? because if so, I wish to hear it at once and have
done with it."
Something in his manner pained me keenly: it was that
of a man who was yielding to what he considered a disagreeable
necessity, the nature of which was dawning on him and depress-
ing his spirits.
He stood waiting for me to speak, with his head turned a little
over his shoulder, and sighed again ; so I uttered my thought.
" Among other things, I wanted to ask, uncle, whether you
had always intended me to live on board with you, or whether
you had been surprised into consenting to it by what has
happened to-day ? "
" What put that into your head ? " he asked.
" Mrs. Bell has often told me I could not expect it of you."
"Ah, well, she has frequently written to me, when I have
hinted at taking you away, that this was not a fit place for a
lady. Quite right ; and a trouble, that's true ; but trouble is
the lot of man."
So Mrs. Bell had been the cause of my staying away so long.
How that newly-discovered fact altered all my feelings towards
her and towards my uncle ! At that early stage of the discussion
I had my wits about me, and could be cautious, so I fcT&mral
"It is natural that you should expect my teiag &\ SfcfcToSa.
58 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
you to be a trouble. I do not doubt tbat it will be; and if you
do not mind telling me whether you have always intended it,
I should like to know."
" Well," he said, and hummed and hesitated a little, " I had
not intended it."
Still he held the door-handle, and stood with his back to
me.
" Then, uncle, why have you changed your mind ? "
Upon this he turned towards me, as if trying to find the
reason.
" Upon my word," he said, " I hardly know."
" Then perhaps it is not permanently changed ? " I inquired.
" I am not used to be questioned in this way. Permanently,
permanently ! How should I know whether I have changed
it permanently ? "
"Uncle, that is the same thing as saying that you have
yielded to circumstances, and changed it only for the time being,
to save trouble, and because you did not know what else to do
with me."
"Pooh, child, I don't mind you. I was always fond of
children."
"lama woman now, a grown-up woman."
" You will always be a very little one," he answered with a
kind smile.
" Yes, but that will not interfere with my earning my own
living."
" What do you mean ? "
" Uncle, you have taken care that I should have an excellent
education, and, as a teacher, I can easily earn my living. So, if
that is to be my lot as Mrs. Bell often hinted as probable
and if you only take me on board for the present, knowing that
it will interfere with your comfort to retain me, and intending
to place me in a situation, I want to be prepared, and then when
the time comes I shall not be so much disappointed."
"Gratuitous all gratuitous suppositions," he answered.
" Women, I suppose, always have a great flow of words ; but I
wish you were not in such a hurry to pour them all out at once.
Xet me see : you want to know whether I intend you to earn
your bread. I do not intend it, while I li\& ox tec I am dead.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 59
Now, what else ? Oh, whether I meant you to live on board.
' No ' to that. I meant to board you in some good family ashore
where you could live like other girls, go into society, and have
some motherly woman to look after you. There, my plan was
a vast deal better for you than living here with nobody to speak
to but me and your brother, who does not want you, I can tell
you. You might live so with every comfort. "
" And never see Tom, and never see you ? "
" What do you want to see me for ? Do you mean to say
that you should be better pleased to stay here ? "
" Pleased, uncle ! Why, the hope of staying only for a time
makes me happier than I have ever been in my life."
" Yes, I really believe it does."
" Do you think I have no affection for you ?" I exclaimed,
shocked at his surprise that I should want to be with him.
A sort of contentment and pleasure stole over his face that
was comforting to see, but he answered, " I don't know why
you should have. People give love for love, and not for
money."
This was a very uncompromising way of letting me know
he felt no love for me.
It took me by surprise : in spite of myself I felt choked, and
tears would run down my cheeks. I forgot myself, and said,
sobbing, " People don't always give love for love, sometimes
they give it for nothing." Eidiculous speech ! as if I had not
seen the pleasure that had stolen over his face a few minutes
before ; but I felt as if my sheet-anchor had given way, and my
chief reason for longing to be with him was gone.
He replied roughly, " Don't you give it for nothing ! " and I
answered, sobbing,
" I must I would much rather give it for nothing than not
give it at alL"
" You look too much like a child, and you talk too much like
a woman," he replied. " I hate these discussions. What ! did
I think of you all those years ? not at all ; but I like you well
enough now. And as to my money, I gave that to get rid of
you when you were a puling child. You are not wise. Take
things as you find them. Don't sob so. There."
He came up to me as I stood trying to check my e.TjVc^^
60 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and gave me a kiss on the forehead. He seemed to have for-
gotten his intention of going on deck ; and when I had dried
my eyes, and could look at him, I saw that his kind, handsome
old face looked pleased and glad, till stopping short, he said, " I
was not alluding to myself, in particular, when I advised you
not to bestow your regard for nothing. "
"No, uncle," I answered, forgetting myself, "and what
reason is there that I should ? "
" The child veers round like the wind."
Still he looked at me, and his countenance seemed to show
dawning affection and pleasure. "Come here," he said; and
encouraged hy his manner I came and put my arms round his
neck.
"Well, well," he said, as if speaking to himself; "a man
must take things as he finds them. I bring up a girl at school,
and she comes on board and cries, and says she loves me.
Women are strange creatures ; must not be hardly dealt with.
And so, after all, you don't mean to love me for nothing."
What was the use of arguing with him, and proving that this
was impossible ? because I already owed him all the love and
duty in the world. I answered instead, " No, uncle, for you
know you are going to love me in return."
" Well, that's one way of settling the matter, certainly," he
said, surprised into a laugh.
" So you want to stop on board with me ? " he continued,
when he had resumed his seat.
" Yes, if you please."
" Well, I suppose I do please ; and if you give a little trouble
I don't care, provided there are no scenes. This one is to be the
first and last. I hate demonstrations and speeches."
" I may kiss you if you go away for a few days ? "
" Yes, to be sure."
"I don't want to make any other demonstrations nor any
speeches about your having provided for me, and how grateful
I feel, and how I hope to be a daughter to you in your old age.
I shall keep all that to myself. I know it will be undutiful to
mention it, though of course I shall feel it all the same."
" You call this keeping it to yourself, do you ? You are the
OFF THE SEELLIGS. 6 1
strangest creature I ever saw not in the least to look at, like
the shrewd young woman you evidently are."
" Yes, I know I am plain."
" Not at all ; I don't see that you are plain. But you con-
trive to say and do what you please, in spite of me, and even
while telling me you don't intend it. Now, I won't have any
more of that ; you have said your say once. Let me have no
more talk of gratitude."
" Very well, uncle."
"Very well, uncle!" he repeated. "No; I never did see
anything so demure in my life ! When I am in the humour for
it, and when we are alone," was his next speech, " I don't mind
a little nonsense now and then."
By nonsense I knew he meant any sort of evidence by word
or act that affection was felt for him. For the rest, I saw he
was gratified at my audacity in daring to thank him for his
long goodness ; and I did not say, " How shall I find out when
you are in the humour?" for never was there a man whose
character and whose wishes were more easily understood.
The golden sunshine lay softly on the water, and the tide had
turned, when I remembered that I ought to go and give direc-
tions about my possessions.
Uncle Rollin wrote a cheque and a note, in which he enclosed
it. I asked, not without trepidation, whether I was to write
also ; but the time was gone by, I found, when others would be
responsible for my actions, and I was told to do as I pleased.
So I knew I ought to write, and I did
The letter was most polite, and very full of apology. I said,
truly enough, that I had not been aware in the morning of my
uncle's intentions respecting me, and I expressed regret that I
had not been able to take leave of her, and the masters, and my
fellow pupils.
I went and found Mrs. Brand, gave her the letter and the
note, and asked her to go in the boat to Ipswich, and offer to
help in packing my possessions.
She was delighted with the commission, and to describe my
happiness when I came on deck and saw the polished expanse
of water, the green wooded banks, the distant sea, and all the
loveliness of the aky, would be impossible.
62 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Uncle Rollin was slowly pacing the deck with his cigar. I
sat looking about me in all the bliss of newly-found freedom,
till the sun went down in a bank of ruddy cloud, and the white
moon rose, and shone, or was lost again behind the sails of
brigs and schooners, as they came slowly past us; when the
"Curlew" herself began to give forth light from numberless little
bits of glass, hardly noticed by day. From the chief cabin,
streamed forth warm rays, while from the cliffs on the right
two lighthouses continually gleamed and waned again.
There is nothing more delightful than to sit, as I sat there,
on a balmy summer night, and hear the noises on the shore, see
lighted houses, hear cattle lowing, and feel the peaceful isolation
of the vessel How strangely soon the heart accustoms itself to
happiness ! I did not feel my new position at all a difficult
one. I, who in the morning was a humble school-girl, looking
to the eye of Mrs. Bell for direction, and dreading the least dis-
approval, sitting in the prescribed attitude, and eating, contrary
to my wish, the prescribed quantity of bread and butter, was
now, in the evening, a young lady, with servants at my com-
mand, my time at my disposal, an indulgent uncle, a brother
coming soon, a cheerful home, adventures before me ; and yet
my heart had expanded in a moment, my spirit had sprung forth
to meet these new hopes, and new position, so that it seemed a
natural one.
This seemed a great event in my life. I prayed that God
would make it as much for my good as it certainly was for my
pleasure, and I thought long and earnestly about the subject of
a sermon that, singularly enough, I had heard the Sunday
before : it was on discipline. I had thought at the time of the
long discipline of school that I was subject to, and wished it
was over ; but now I felt for the first time some meaning in
that familiar phrase, " The discipline of life.' 1
I was so exultant, so exquisitely happy, that after awhile
came a reaction, and I was afraid a sort of vague fear that
such a blissful hour would not often revisit me took possession
of my mind, and I listened to the far-off break of the waves,
and the slipping of river-water past me to swell them, with a
consciousness that, literally as well as metaphorically, my life
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 63
bad been passed with the quiet river, and now I was to go forth
upon the changeful sea.
Brand and Mrs. Brand did not come that night, so at last I
went to bed, went to my berth, which I was surprised to find
ready for me, and also to observe that the other berths were
made up with snow-white sheets and counterpanes.
I asked my uncle in the morning why this was. He replied
that Tom had intended to bring Mr. and Mrs. Mompesson on
board, with two of their children, but that they had persuaded
him to spend a short time with them first. And now they
would not come for some weeks. My heart leapt with joy.
All sorts of delightful things were happening together, and now
also seemed to be a convenient time for asking some questions
respecting my father and Amy, things that I had longed to know
for years.
They were going on as usual, said Uncle Bollin; nothing
particular had happened.
" Then would they soon come home ? "
"No, child, the debts are not half paid, though they live
with all economy."
I asked, since my father was never extravagant, how he hap-
pened to get into debt.
" Child, he was security for a rascal who made off with ten
thousand pounds. It is better you should know nothing about
that, if your mother did not tell you."
" She never said a word about it."
" She was a good woman. I have helped them ; they gave
up everything, and what could they do more ? "
"I have often, particularly the last few months, been very
anxious to hear something more about mamma's death."
"I should not have thought you would have remembered
her ; you were young when she gave you to me. I hope hearing
so little has not weighed on your mind."
"It never did till lately, indeed, not*till the last half year.
I am a woman now, and did not like to know nothing about my
nearest relations."
"Well, well," he said calmly and dispassionately, "your
father will not get on there. I don't expect it. I have lent
him money which I never mean to ask f ot ) "but yo\tt moWhst
64 OFF THE SEELLIGS.
was no manager. As for your father, I respect him, but he has
mistaken his vocation ; he is not fit for a bush life. However,
he seems well enough pleased with Australia would not come
back, he says, on any account. Amy is a fine girl, I under-
stand, and has had an offer."
The first part of this speech pained me, but the latter part
was astounding ! While I had been practising my music at
school, my little sister, my younger sister, had actually been
sought in marriage. Uncle Eollin was not in the humour to
talk more, so I went to my peculiar domain, shut the door,
and sat down to think. I shall not record all my thoughts :
some I must. I looked at myself in the glass, and wondered
what Tom would think of me, and what other people would
think, and I dressed my hair several different ways, in order, if
possible, to add a year or two to my apparent age but in any
style I could not make myself look more than fifteen, or at
least, as I fondly hoped, sixteen.
Amy had had an offer; she clearly looked like a woman,
then. I did not yet. At school it had not seemed to matter
what I was like; now, it certainly did. My height was five
feet three inches not so very short ; but then, as Mrs. Bell had
often said, I had the effect of being small. I was considered to
be a little creature, and it is of no use to argue against people's
impressions concerning one. I was too slender and girlish in
figure to pass for a woman. Still I hoped Tom would think
me tolerable. My large eyes I knew were not handsome in
colour; it was hard to say whether they were brown or a
greenish grey, they looked black by candlelight. Then my
hair, there was plenty of it, but it wanted richness of colour; it
was light, but not yellow enough to please me. I felt, in fact,
that I was insignificant.
I had scarcely finished my scrutiny when Mrs. Brand ap-
peared, and presently my boxes were placed on the floor. Mrs.
Brand had not seen the lady, but had heard a voice by which
she judged that the lady was " in a way" The voice had said,
" Oh dear, no tell the woman there is no message whatever."
I had been dreading a letter; so this silence, which was
intended to intimate displeasure too great for words, proved
a delightful relief to me.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 65
Mis. Brand unpacked my boxes, lingering over them, as if to
have something to do was a treat not to be appreciated unless it
was long drawn out.
She said it was probable that Tom might come on board that
morning, and my spirits were thrown into a flutter at the news ;
my first thought was to make myself look as well as I could,
and I donned my best dress, a neat dark blue silk. I also put
on my lace collar and sleeves, and my little gold brooch with
Tom's hair in it and while I was considering whether an im-
partial stranger would pronounce me to be a young woman or
consider me a child, she was called away, and I sat down and
felt how foolish I was to have thought that appearance would
influence one's brother to care more or less for a sister ; yet in
spite of the reflection, I took out a little ring that my brother
had sent me, and added it to my adornments.
As I drew the ring on to my finger, suddenly I heard a voice
that thrilled me to my very heart. " What is it that you call
leeway ? " said the voice. I held my breath ; two persons were
descending. The second answered, "Oh, it is caused by the
pressure of the wind on the weather side of a vessel In conse-
quence of which, though her head may be at a certain point of
the compass, the true course made will be half a point, or a
point to leeward of that, according to circumstances."
I did not know the second voice, but the first was the long-
lost music of childhood awakened for me again.
" Ah, I see," it answered; " on the lee side she has only the
pressure of the water, but on the weather side there is the
pressure both of water and of wind."
They had reached the last step, and I could not move from
the glass before which I was standing. I heard Uncle Kollin
meet them; my name was mentioned, and two gentlemen
entered my open door.
In a whirl of confused joy and trepidation, I came to meet
them, and at the first glance both seemed to be strangers. One
stood back, the other smiled ; this smile was all that was left of
Mr. Mompesson.
I saw a stout man with grey hair, and a somewhat careworn
lace. He actually introduced himself, as if he thought I had
forgotten his existence. "I am glad to see you" \i^ md^
66 OFF THE SKELLTGS,
kindly taking my hand. " You and I were great friends some
years ago, but you are grown out of my knowledge, as I have
passed from your memory." I had not time to contradict him,
a young man stood by who was looking at me. Could it be
Tom? Yes, it certainly was, for he kissed me, and then we
mutually drew back and looked at each other.
What he saw he told me frankly afterwards. I saw a
strongly-built young man with heavy features, a massive fore-
head, and a peculiarly dark complexion, which made his grey
eyes look altogether too light to be in keeping with his general
hue and his curly brown hair.
But these eyes were very strange ones ; they were so piercing,
so bright, and so intellectual, that the words clear, sparkling,
brilliant, or any other words usually applied to eyes, would not
describe them at all : their, lustre seemed to shoot out from
within, and, in short, they reminded me of a cat's eye seen in
the dusk.
We dined at four. The dinner was rather uncomfortable,
for Tom and I could not possibly help looking at one another,
and Uncle Kollin would talk to Mr. Mompesson about naviga-
tion, a subject that he evidently did not in the least understand.
I knew that he would rather talk to Tom, so I tried to release
him by directing my uncle's learned remarks to myself. Navi-
gation was his hobby, the only subject on which he was
always willing to discourse when he had been asked a question
about it, and this Mr. Mompesson had rashly done.
He happened to be saying that it was a very common thing .
to load a vessel so that her keel was lower abaft. Mr. Mom-
pesson looked as if he did not know what this information
meant; no more did I, but, bent on releasing him, I boldly
asked my uncle why ?
He looked both surprised and gratified, and, no doubt, thought
[ had been an intelligent listener to the previous remarks ; so
he proceeded to tell me that this mode of loading, by raising
part of the bow out of the water, diminished the gripe of the
ship forward.
Tom and Mr. Mompesson were now talking together, and as
I did not in the least understand what he meant by gripe, I
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 6 J
only answered, " Oh," as if satisfied, but he would go on, ex-
plaining that thus it improved her steerage.
" I will give you a reason," he continued, " for trimming a
ship more by the stern : suppose she carries too much weather
helm, that is, she comes up into the wind too much ; in such a
case you put more weights aft."
I had a very hazy notion of what he meant, but no doubt he
thought he was making his meaning plain, for he presently
went on to tell me that thus by making the bows lighter, the
headsails had increased power of keeping her off the wind;
"also, as I might easily see, it diminished the strain on the
rudder."
Easily see it indeed ! I saw nothing of the kind.
" What is a headsail ? " I next asked ; and Uncle Rollin and
Brand, who was waiting at table, both looked at me with sur-
prise. Tom, however, came to the rescue by saying, " We call
all sails hoisted on the bowsprit headsails." Tom and Mr.
Mompesson then began to talk again, but Uncle Rollin sat
gravely silent, and I am afraid matters were made worse by my
exclaiming, with ill-timed exultation, "Well, now, I know
something."
" Little enough," he answered gruffly and almost with a surly
tone.
It was especially unlucky for me that this sea talk should
have come up during the first days of my sojourn on board ; for,
as a rule, they did not indulge in it, and I have often been on
board when for a week together I should hardly have known
by their conversation that we were not on shore.
After this bad beginning, however, I said that! if he pleased I
should be very glad to learn something about the uses of diffe-
rent sails, and, in short, to learn something of the elements of
navigation ; whereupon his brow cleared, and he replied that he
thought it highly desirable. Still I could see that either my
ignorance or my apparent curiosity had offended him, and ho
did not quite recover his goodhumour while I stayed at the table,
which was not long after the cloth was withdrawn.
It was such a lovely evening that I put on my hat and took
my work-box on deck with me. I had not been sitting there
68 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
long when Uncle Rollin came and stood before me. It was
about six o'clock, and tbe tide was coming in.
" If you are so fond of navigation," be observed rather gruffly,
" it is a strange thing that you did not learn something of it at
school. I never denied you masters for anything you had a
fancy for."
I was certain that he would find out the truth if I did not
forthwith tell it, so no particular courage was displayed in my
reply
" I am not at all fond of navigation. I can't bear it."
" Then why do you want to learn it ? "
" Why, uncle, partly to please you."
" Humph ! do you expect me to teach it you after telling me
that ? "
" Oh yes, for I was obliged to tell you, because you asked
me."
"So you think I take pleasure in making people do what
they ' can't bear.' "
"No, but I have no right to dislike navigation, and I am
certainly going to like it. I always do like things when I have
learned them a little while."
" I shall not teach it you."
" Then, uncle, will you be so kind as to show me the proper
books, that I may learn it by myself ? "
" Pooh."
" Besides, there is another thing that I did not think of at
first. I see that learning navigation will be necessary for me,
or when Tom and you are talking together I shall not under-
stand what you say."
" I don't see that it is so necessary, not so particularly neces-
sary, for a girl to learn navigation, but if you must learn it
ahem if you are bent on learning it "
" Oh yes, I certainly shall."
" Well, I will see about it. If you must learn you must have
a teacher, and in that case I should not mind instructing you.
I taught Tom a very apt scholar he was ; it seemed no trouble
to him, and I daresay you will learn as well as he did, for you
are quite as queer."
"Am I queer 1 do you really think so, uncle ? "
OFF THE SKELUGS. 69
" Yes, really and truly," he answered and laughed, " I think
you are the queerest little girl I ever saw, but you need not
look so grave, for you don't care about it ! "
I did not see Mr. Mompesson again till it was nearly dusk,
when he came on deck with Tom, and began, as I had hoped he
would, to talk of old times.
But, alas ! we were to sail at high tide, which was shortly
after eight o'clock. We had scarcely got under weigh when I
began to feel ill, and when we reached the " rolling ground," I
was obliged to go below and lie down in my berth. Mrs. Brand
was sure I should be much better on deck, but I instinctively
hid myself and my miseries lest this sickness should interfere
with my prospects and induce my uncle and brother to send me
ashore again.
We were to put Mr. Mompesson on shore at Lulworth Cove,
and after that we were bound for the west coast of Ireland. If
the weather promised well we should not leave the yacht, Mrs.
Brand told me, but if not we should land, make the journey
through England, crossing to Dublin and going through Ireland
at our leisure, while a man who was called the captain of the
yacht brought her round to Valencia.
" Then I hope it will blow a gale," I said, for I sorely longed
to land.
" No, ma'am," she answered, " the best thing will be to get
used to wind and rough weather, at least, if you wish to sail
with Mr. Graham."
So I endured as well as I could, and was right glad when we
reached our destination, but I only got on deck a few minutes
before Mr. Mompesson landed.
" Is the weather likely to be fine ? " I asked.
" Yes," was the reply, " splendid."
I could not forbear a sigh.
70 OFF THE SKELLTGS.
CHAPTEK IX.
" They are faint-hearted ; there is sorrow on the sea." Jer. xlix. 33.
We lay at anchor that night in Portland roads, and I enjoyed
the calm. In the morning the sea was smooth, and, to my
delight, the sickness did not return. Miserable as it had been,
it had not for a moment made me forget my happy position, or
wish myself on shore again.
In the pleasant weather of that day Tom proposed that we
should arrange the after cabin so as to hold my possessions com-
fortably and yet retain many of his.
When we had done this, I, knowing that we were bound for the
Great Skellig, went to the chief cabin, where most of my brother's
books were kept, and privately made myself fully acquainted
with the hardhearted monster, an isolated rock standing about
ten miles out to sea, off the south-west coast of Kerry.
My heart exulted as I read, and I longed for calm, that I
might see it well How grand, how sublime to approach this
the extreme point of British land, this mighty pinnacle nearly a
thousand feet high, shooting up alone from the abyss of waters,
and to know that in a storm the vast heaving waves of the
Atlantic flung themselves heavily over ledges that are one
hundred and seventy feet above their level during a calm, and
wet the rock with their powdering spray four hundred feet
higher still, charging it, and roaring and foaming against it with
a power and fury inconceivable !
The Lesser Skellig, too, I wished to see, for I found it was
one of the breeding places of the gannet, and that millions of
young birds at that time of the year would be squatting on it,
incased in their thick down, and screaming for fresh fish to their
laborious parents.
That was a delightful day; and if a little breeze had not
sprung up the next morning, and sent me to my berth, making
me doubt whether when the rocks appeared I should be able to
sit up and look at them, I should have been as happy as youth,
health, and a clear conscience can make one in this sublunary
sphere.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. I
This was a most dismal attack, but happily it was the last I
ever suffered from. There had been a stiff breeze, and all in our
favour, I was told ; and after what seemed a long time, I felt
not only that I was much better, but that the water was becom-
ing every quarter T)f an hour more smooth. I could soon sit up,
and though faint for want of food, I was not giddy, and when
Mrs. Brand had dressed me I crept on deck and found the water
all lulled and hardly moving against the bows. We were in the
midst of a sea fog, and everything was muffled and still. We
were about sixty miles out to sea, as Mrs. Brand told me, and
what wind there had been when it died away was almost due
south.
She thought it was likely to be calm all night, and told me
that while the fog lasted we should not make for the shore, the
coast being very dangerous. I asked her, while eating a good
meal of meat and bread on deck, how fast we were going, and
6he laughed and replied, " Not a quarter of a knot an hour."
My uncle and Tom were sitting at wine, for they had dined. It
was about six o'clock, and though the fog was so thick that I
could not see the top of the mainsail, I felt the air oppressively
warm.
When my uncle and Tom came on deck they were very kind
in their congratulations, and stimulated me in my efforts to look
and talk as if nothing had happened, by saying that if this sick-
ness had lasted another day it would really have been necessary
to put me on shore.
I declared myself to be quite well, and so I felt ; but any one
might have felt well then, for the yacht was almost as still as a
house.
Before sunset the fog cleared off sufficiently to show us a vast
flock of white terns flying over us, their feet stretched out and
their heads hanging so low, that we expected them every moment
to overbalance themselves and come tumbling down. They did
not, however, but fled on until the sun went down, and then we
still heard their shrill cries overhead, as they flew landward.
Then the mist seemed to come about us again, and when after
a sociable tea I came on deck, it was so dusk and damp, that Tom
advised me to go below to my berth. Not very bad advice, for
I was tired and sleepy. I went below, intending \Q Xvfc foywrcu
72 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
but only for an hour, and come on deck again, but had scarcely
laid my head on the pillow when I fell very fast asleep, and
slept some time, probably until within an hour of midnight.
In a dream that was a rapture of conscious rest, and which
concerned imaginary cups of coffee and bread and butter, I slept
most quietly until I was suddenly awakened by a violent and
tremendous noise on deck. I started up in my berth, and in-
stantly observed that the cabin lamp was lighted, and that Mrs.
Brand, who had been sitting under it reading, had put down her
book and quickly opened the door. Just as I was about to call
her, her skirts disappeared as she shut it behind her.
It was not nearly so calm now as when I had fallen asleep,
and I felt that the whole vessel was in commotion. First I
thought we must be shortening sail, next I thought I heard
something about lowering a boat.
I was not alarmed at this, but still sat up to listen. The
helm seemed to have been violently put about. That was not
surprising, if it was the case, but we were sixty miles out at sea.
What could they want with a boat ?
Yes, in less than a minute I* felt sure something was the
matter, and the stamping above, the shouting and dragging of
ropes, so distracted me that I sprang from my berth, and slipped
my feet into my shoes, for otherwise I was completely dressed.
I knew that any needless alarm on my part would irritate my
uncle ; but ignorant as I was of what different noises portended,
I could not keep below, but, softly opening my cabin door, I stole
a step or two up the companion, and directed my eyes upward
among the rigging and the overhanging stars.
These last were visible, but looked watery through the remains
of the mist. I crept softly up to the top step of the companion,
where Mrs. Brand was standing, and would have passed her, but
the sailors were in every part of the yacht, lowering the foresail
and heaving her to. Long ropes were being trailed along, and
Brand as he passed exclaimed to his wife, " Don't let our young
lady step on deck ; she would put her foot on some of the ropes
to a certainty, and get thrown down."
" What is it ? " I exclaimed ; " what can it be t "
She pointed with her finger, and as the yacht swung round
she said, "Look there, ma'am, look I"
OFF THE SKELLK3S. 73
As she spoke two strange objects came into my view. One
was a great pale moon, sickly and white, hanging and seeming
to brood over the horizon ; the other, which looked about the
same size, was red and seemed to lie close at her side. It was
not round, but looked blotted and blurred in the mist. Could it
be a meteor ? a lighthouse? Whatever it was, it was the cause of
the commotion which had been so intense, and which now seemed
to be already subsiding. I had heard the men called up not
three minutes before, and now two boats were already lowered,
and Tom was in command of the foremost. I heard his voice
coming from the water, and no one prevented me now from rush-
ing to the side to look over, turning my back on the moon and '
her lurid companion. Though the night was not dark I could
not discern the boats ; and after straining my eyes into the mist,
I observed that it was rapidly melting away, and rolling on as
well as rolling together, so that spaces of water here and there
were clear, and moonlight glittered on them. The binnacle light
glared in my uncle's face as he stooped over it. I heard Brand
whisper to his wife that he had taken charge of the yacht, and
I did not dare to speak to him, though what it might be that
alarmed them I could not tell.
It was as it seemed but a moment that I had stared out into
the mist, looking for the boats with still sleepy eyes ; then, as
the sailors that were left tramped back to the fore part of the
yacht, I turned again. The mist had shaken itself and rolled on
before a light air that was coming. I saw two great pathways
now lying along the waters ; one was silver white, the pathway
of the wan moon, the other was blood-red and angry, and a
burning vessel lay at her head.
Oh, that sight ! can I ever forget it 1 The fire was spurting
from every crevice of the black hull, her great mainmast was
gone, the mizzen-mast lay with several great white sails surging
about in the water, and she was dragging it along with her. The
foremast only stood, and its rigging and sails had not yet caught.
A dead silence had succeeded now to the commotion in the
vessel ; men were standing stock-still, perhaps waiting for their
orders, and my uncle's were the only eyes that were not strained
to follow the leaping and dazzling spires. d the hatches battened down, and had
ordered them to hoist out all the boats and stock them in case
of need. This proved in course of time to be quite a false
account, and even then Tom was not satisfied with it
-* What followed, and why he did not go off in one of these
boats, this man could not or would not tell, but that the boats
were safely lowered, and that all the crew, the passengers, and
the captain put off in them he affirmed several times. This
account robbed the recollection of the burning ship of half its
horrors, and when my uncle and Tom withdrew, feeling very
weary, I went to my berth, and in spite of the past excitement
slept until high day.
Mrs. Brand woke me at last with her usual dismal face.
She gave me some tea and asked if I would rise.
The water was fizzing past us at a very unusual rate. I
asked if we had reached Valencia. She said we had, and were
leaving it again, Master having landed, and been an hour on
shore. There is a coastguard station, it seems, at Valencia, and
there he found that the drunken man's tale was partly true, for
one of the boats the jolly-boat, containing the second mate,
and twenty-two of the ship's crew, as well as several steerage
passengers had entered the harbour about an hour before we
did. " And there they were," she said, " sitting with the coast-
guardsmen, and made welcome to the best of everything just
like the Irish hospitality. 7 '
She further said my uncle did not at all like the account
these men gave of themselves, nor could he make out why they
had parted company with the other boat, for this, by admission
of one of them, was before the fog came on. Moreover, one of
the passengers had said he doubted whether there was more
than one boat he feared that what the remaining people were
on was very little better than a raft.
" And what made him look for them here l"I asked.
"It is the nearest land," she replied.; "and, besides, the
wind was fair for it."
" Well," I answered, " it passes my comprehension as yet how
the wind can take us in at such a rate as it must have done,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 79
and then send us out again at this spanking pace without
changing ! "
"We have a pilot on hoard now," she replied, shirking the
question of the wind.
I heard distant hells, and remembered that this was Sunday
morning.
" Yes, it's Sunday morning, hut for all that," said Mrs. Brand,
"we took a good deal of provisions on hoard fowls and flour
and pork, and what not for we may fall in with these boats,
and by all I can hear there are nearly thirty people "
" Fall in with them ? " I answered ; " surely we are going out
on purpose to do our utmost to find them ? "
" Certainly," she replied ; " trust Master for that, but he was
in hopes there might have been a tug or two that he might have
hired to come out and cruise about for them likewise. There
was nothing of the sort, however."
She often called my uncle "Master," or my master; and I
believe it was because she wished to express her opinion that he
really was supreme, for she greatly disliked the young man who
was called the " Captain of the Yacht," and whose business it
was to take charge of her at all times when my uncle did not
care to command himself, as well as when he was on shore.
" He was nothing but the master of a coasting vessel," she
said, while she was brushing my hair, " and I take no 'count on
him, for all he messes in his cabin by himself, as grand as you
please."
" But no doubt he is a good seaman," I observed, " or my
uncle would not trust him with the yacht in his own absence."
" Oh ! he is well enough," she answered, " but I have no
patience with his airs; not that he claims, though, to hold a
candle to Master or to Mr. Graham either."
So we were going out to sea to look for this boat or boats,
and thus was to pass my first Sunday afloat, for I had been too
ill the former Sunday to note the day.
How sweet and how remote those bells sounded ! I fancied
also that I smelt hay, and rose full of hope and perfectly free
from sickness.
I found Tom and my uncle poring over maps and charts,
calculating what was probably the present position ot \Jaa \cfo.\t
So OFF THE SEELLIGS.
supposing that she had a sail and four oars, then supposing she
had no sail, and lastly supposing she had only two oars.
I heard them argue on these complicated probabilities, discuss
how far the vessel had sailed from the point where she was
deserted by the crew, which aU the men had said was seventy
miles west of Cape Clear, how long in the dead calm she had
made hardly any way, then mark down exactly where she was
when the wind sprung up and we found her.
These matters all discussed, a circle was drawn on one of the
charts, and within its imaginary bounds I was told the boats
would be sought ; wind, tide, the powers of the rowers, and the
known size of the boats, making it almost certain that there
they must be.
I asked why these boats were probably so much behind the
others, and they said that almost every man who had come in
was able-bodied, and could help to row even when they could
not sail, which was during the three hours' calm ; that they had
confessed to not having been able to launch the long-boat, and
that the two next largest # boats were no better than our gigs, and
would be crowded with women so as to be dangerously heavy,
besides having very few to row. The weather was very much
changed ; a breeze had sprung up directly after the late calm,
and the wind had been rising and freshening ever since. The
air was exquisitely clear, and the sea a deep blue; we were
sailing at the rate of nearly eleven knots an hour, the yacht was
behaving very well she always did, they said, in a stiff breeze,.-
and I thought my uncle seemed excited and hopeful, but my
heart ached to think of the poor women and children who had
been all night cramped up in little boats, and perhaps were
drenched with spray and faint with hunger.
It would be three hours, I was told, before we should reach
the edge of our circle. Accordingly after breakfast the ordei
was given to "rig the Church," and aU hands that could be
spared were summoned. There is -a strange solemnity in the
prayers of a ship's company at sea ; on board a man-of-war I am
told this is especially the case, but even on board the " Curlew,"
and with my uncle for chaplain, I have often felt that no church
on shore could be more solemn or have a more attentive congre-
gation.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 8 1
During that first service, however, I was far too much excited
to join with attention in the prayers my heart prayed and
fainted for the boat's crew, and my ears were strained to catch
the slightest sound from the lookout man ; hut the prayers came
to an end, the reading of a short sermon followed, and we knelt
down when it was over, and rose again.
Great gravity and no impatience had characterised my unele's
reading ; but the instant all was over he clapped to the book,
called for his glass, and while he swept the horizon with it, the
" church " disappeared as if by magic, the wind kept still rising,
and we spun on, bowing and bending under more sail than I
could have thought she would bear, when Tom came up as I was
trying to look through a glass, and said
"Dolly, if we should fall in with the boats, are you
ready % n
"Keady?"
" Why, more than half the passengers are women, and who is
to attend to them but Mrs. Brand and you 1 "
"May they come into my cabin, then?"
"May they? they must."
" O Tom ! I will go and prepare for them."
" Yes ; but you need not make any great commotion. I am
afraid this is a wild-goose chase."
" Is it ? What chance is there %"
" About as much chance as a dozen boys would have of finding
a marble that one of them had dropped in a ten-acre meadow."
" I believe they would find it, and that you will find the
boats."
" You need not say ' boats/ " he answered. " I am sure there
is but one, and I fear it is dreadfully crowded. The passengers
declare there was but one ; and as to the finding of a marble, the
boys no doubt would find it if they looked long enough, and
when found it would be none the worse ; but if we cannot find
this boat in the course of a day or so, we had much better not
find it at all, for it is sure to be keel upward. Still you may go
and prepare very unlikely things do happen."
I went below and summoned Mrs. Brand.
" Why, Lord," she said, half -whimpering with anxious sym-
pathy for the sufferers, "what is the use of tearing ftvfc ^aSs^
82 OFF THE SEELLIGS.
out of the berths ? Mr. Graham knows that if the wind keeps
freshening at this rate it will blow a gale before night ; and how
is a boat like that to live in such a sea ? "
We, however, cleared the berths, and made up beds in them.
I brought out some of my clothes and put them ready, listening
all the while, but in vain, for the least signal from the lookout
men. So the weary, anxious morning passed. Once Mrs. Brand
came in and told me we had changed our course, by which I
judged that we were well within the imaginary circle, and for a
while I was full of hope, but hope was not the prevailing character
of her mind. She always foreboded evil, and I was less restless
and miserable alone when I could kneel down in my cabin and
pray that our efforts might be blessed with success. All dinner-
time my uncle and Tom were very grave, and afterwards they
had another long discussion as to the probable position of the
boat. If she had a sail, it was certain she could not have used
it now for some hours, and if she was rowed, they thought she
could hardly be making any way.
There was now so much motion in the yacht that though
it did not make me ill, I could not walk without holding to
things about me, nor venture on deck, for it poured hard with
rain. Tom and my uncle were in no mood to be questioned,
their anxiety was so intense. I got back to my cabin with the
help of Tom's arm, and then learned from Mrs. Brand, who had
come there on purpose to tell it me, that the general belief in the
yacht was that the boat would not be rescued ; the boatswain
thought so, and his opinion always carried weight.
" There was quite enough sea on to swamp a small boat, and
one so heavily laden."
" Why could they not bail out the water ? " I inquired.
She held up her hands and eyes. " Bless you, ma'am, bail out
a boatful every half minute ! And what are they likely to have
to bail with ? No, no ; a boat has little chance when it blows
so fresh, with drenching rain, and such a wild sea."
" It makes me tremble to hear you talk. I do not believe the
boat is lost ; I believe we shall find it. I pray God that we
may."
" You'd better pray that it may be afore dark, then," she
answered, "for nothing can save her after."
OFF THE SEELLIGS. 83
" What do you mean ? "
" Why, ma'am, when the wind goes off like great guns, and
every wave that strikes the yacht is like a clap of thunder, how
could we hear them hail us in the dark ? You don't understand
that is why you are so hopeful."
" I think God will let us save them. There, I heard a noise
on deck. What is it?"
She listened an instant. " One of those lookout men certainly
sung out," she answered, " hut all's quiet again."
She opened the door. Brand was coming down the companion,
and with infinite disgust explained that the man at the mast-
head had sung out, " Boat on the weather how ! " hut directly
after had corrected himself the ohject was not far off^ and he
had recognised it as part of the wreck of the last evening.
" I cannot understand why these men, all of them, could not
launch the long-boat," I remarked. " It only took us two or
three minutes last night to lower our first boat."
44 But consider our crew, ma'am, and all picked men, sixteen,
not counting the sailing-master; at least, I'm sure I beg the
young man's pardon, the captain of the yacht. Why, I'll venture
to say in that ship they were not thirty, all told. Then think
of the size of the long-boat ! It generally takes an hour in a
merchant vessel to unlash and lower a large boat. The long-boat,
too, is often hoisted on to the house-on-deck. When Brand and
I were steward and stewardess on board the * Dora Grant ' from
Melbourne, the boats, I consider, would never have been any
use if we had needed them. Why, the two that they kept slung
up over the poop used to be lashed bottom upwards they used
to make roofs of them, and hang ropes of onions under one ; the
carpenter used to lash his spare planks and things under the
other, and both of them were so dried and warped by the sun,
that you might see daylight between the planks."
44 Then were they spoilt ? "
44 No ; but if the carpenter could have had two or three days'
notice that they would be wanted, he would have taken a chisel
and caulked them well with oakum. I used to be uneasy some-
times when I considered that he certainly never would have
notice ; but I made three voyages out and home in hct, awd vj*
naver wanted them at all, so I got used to it "
84 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
After this conversation, which made me yet more uneasy, I
remained alone until dusk. Sometimes I peered through the
scuttles at the grim grey sea, and sometimes tried to read. I
thought both the noise and motion became leas as evening
advanced, but was afraid to believe it until I was called to tea
and told that the wind was moderating. I went into the chief
tsabin ; the charts were put away, and I saw plainly that expecta-
tion was over, so I said nothing, but after tea came and read the
evening lessons to my uncle, for he loved reading aloud.
The wind still continued to moderate, but I was told it would
be many hours before the sea would go down. Neither Tom
nor my uncle went on deck. The latter seemed tired and lost
in thought ; but perhaps, in order to prevent my asking any
questions, he still asked for more reading and I read South's
Sermons until my voice failed, and all the time I was conscious
that he could not listen, but was lost in cogitations about the
boat. It was nearly midnight when he said, "There, child,
there I you can do no more y the Lord have mercy on them !
Tom, take your sister on deck she wants a little air before she
goes to her berth."
This was a surprising idea to me; but as it was meant in kind-
ness, I went and got a shawl and hat, and came up with Tom as
well as I could. When on deck, however, I found it pleasanter
than I had expected; I could stand very comfortably in the
shelter where Tom put me; the wind, though high, was not cold,
the sky was full of stars, and the rain had long been over.
We stood together for a few minutes in. silence. My heart
was oppressed and expectation was over, when to my surprise
and joy Tom said, " You see he soon gives up hope."
" He, Uncle Rollin? What, have not you given it up, then!"
" I never was sanguine. No, I do not give up the boat. I
think it might live in that sea. He thought not."
" O Tom ! I am thankful for this respite from certainty.
Tell me where we are now."
"Due west of the Skelligs, and two hours , sail from
them."
" Then could we see the light on the Great Skellig?"
He laughed and answered, " Why, Dolly, you are looking due
west "
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 85
I had spoken, because far an instant I had seen a tiny red
spark on the distant water, and had thought it might be the
lighthouse.
We came out from our shelter, and with his arm I rook a turn
on deck. Again I saw it
" Look at that little red thing," I said ; " it is like a firefly
quivering on the water."
"It is only a light," he answered ; "all vessels are bound to
hang out lights."
At that same instant, as we rose on & wave, the lookout man
sung out. " light ahead ! " I thought he said, and a confusion
of voices repeated tine words from all parts of the yacht Then
the light was gone,
" What do you take it for ? " cried Tom, suddenly turning on
Brand, who was now standing behind us. My uncle was on
deck before Brand could reply, and I heard his order to the man
at the helm, " Starboard helm I " whereupon the yacht presently
Bwung round to the left, and as I looked over the bulwarks I
saw the little red light again. It was apparently bearing down
upon us.
u That light hangs uncommon low, sir," said Brand, touching
his sailor's hat.
Tom replied, " It may be a fishing vessel, but I hope to God
it is a smaller craft"
He spoke in an excited tone, and it was evident that the
sailors did not take this for an ordinary light, nor did my uncle,
for in two minutes I heard orders given to shorten sail, and a
great fog-horn was sounded, which I suppose was a signal to the
bearers of the light, for our lights were put out. We lost sight
of her then, and when she danced up again the sailors followed
close on the horn, alternately cheering and shouting, "Light
ahoy ! " But the little red eye drifted down upon us, and,
" Like ships dismasted that are hailed,
And send no answers back again,"
she vouchsafed no reply.
There was a pause of expectation. "I never saw such a
strange light before," said Mrs. Brand ; " it's like a c&fovcL tass^ "
They generally did the last thing I should "have ex^fe^Xfc^ &&.
$6 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
as I stood by Mrs. Brand almost in the dark, I said to her,
" They cannot see us. If we do not hang out more lights, how
are they to find us V
" ma'am ! " she answered, " never fear ; we are not leaving
it to them to find us. We want to keep them in sight if we
can."
Still no sign from the little red eye ; then another rousing
cheer burst from our company, and in a lull of the wind during
the silence which followed there came up from the water some-
thing that surely was meant for a reply, a feeble wavering cheer,
half joy, half wailing, but pitched high. Those were women's
voices I knew, and tears of deep delight almost choked me. In
the darkness came all the confusion instantly which had woke
me the previous night. "We hove to, and hauled down a sail ;
but lights began to appear, and dazzled me, and men darted
about, and confused me. I could see a great sail coming down,
but I by no means expected it to interfere with me, and as it
swung around, I, trying to get out of the way, did the very thing
Brand had spoken of the night before, put my foot on the boat's
fall, and slipping down, struck my temple slightly against some
projecting corner. I felt sick for a moment. It was bitter to
lose sight of the lamp ; but there was confusion and terror for
me on deck now that I was giddy and unable to stand. I ac-
cordingly staggered below, lifted my hair, and saw in the glass
a very small cut on my temple. I began in all haste to stanch
the blood and wash the traces of it from my face, that I might
return ; but I could not ascend in time to see the approach of
the boat, and before I had quite recovered from the giddiness I
heard such stamping, shouting, and cheering, that I knew the
boat must have come alongside, and that her occupants, whoever
they might be, were on board. The yacht appeared to plunge
her bows in the water, and shake herself strangely. I could
hardly stand, and was cold, and shivered, partly from the hurt,
partly from excessive excitement ; but it is certainly true that
some sights are good " for sair een." I saw one which cured the
blow on my temple, for I never felt it after.
I heard, and saw when I looked up, a strangely eager and
motley crowd two or three men, and a good many limping
women, wet and staring. Then followed another man, who came
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 87
stumbling down with great difficulty; two little children pre-
ceded him, and he had a bundle strapped on his back. I touched
him on the arm, and said, " Come in here," and he turned into
my cabin with the children.
The man could not speak. One arm seemed to be a good deal
burned, and his bare feet and hands were blistered and raw from
rowing and exposure.
He sank down on the floor, his hands hanging at his sides,
and he appeared to be even more exhausted than the children,
who lay down beside him, their clothes all drenched with spray,
and their hair matted with wind and rain.
The first thing I thought of was to feed these poor creatures.
A glorious supper had been cooked in readiness hours ago, and
Brand and his wife were flying about in the chief cabin, bring-
ing in hot soup, and meat, and wine, and all the good things
required for starving people.
I took the children for passengers and the man for their ser-
vant, otherwise I knew he would not have come to the after part
of the vessel, for he seemed to be a seaman, and seamen go by
instinct to the other end.
Brand and his wife had, however, received orders to bring the
passengers and the women into the chief cabin for the present ;
and when I slipped in to see what I could get, these poor
creatures were making more noise and confusion than forty
sailors would have excited, and some were in a half-fainting state,
and one in hysterics. I seized the first thing that came to hand,
which was some macaroni soup that Brand was just bringing in.
The force of the wind appeared to be a good deal spent, for I
could now walk tolerably and carry my soup with me. I was
very glad to escape from the noise and turmoil; and when I got
to my own cabin I knelt on the floor and put a little soup into
the children's mouths, feeding them by turns. They soon ceased
to cry and moan, and ate eagerly, but the man took no notice,
though I spoke to him. He seemed hardly conscious; and when
I found that he could not rise and get supper for himself, I went
back again, got a glass of red wine and a roll, and put my hand
on his forehead, and the glass to his mouth. At first this was
all to no purpose, but shortly he smelt the wine, opened his
bleared eyes, and seemed to revive a little. I got him to drink
88 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
some, and breaking off bits of bread, put them into his month,
after which he seemed to sink back again into a kind of torpor.
The poor little children appeared to be about three or four
years old. They had no sooner done eating than they began to
fret and wail again, and no wonder, for their pretty limbs were
sore with salt water, and their weakness was pitiable.
I ran to Brand, and made him bring me a large jug of warm
water. In the meantime the man had roused himself suffi-
ciently to loosen the bundle from his back, and when I turned
from the poor little creatures whom I had washed as well as
their weakness would permit, I saw that he had laid it across
his knees. I could not attend to him, the children absorbed all
my care they were so weary and querulous that it was not
without great difficulty I cut away their drenched clothes,
clothed them from my store, and put them into the berths ; but
this once done they were soon quiet, and sobbed themselves to
sleep. Then, before I could succeed in rousing my sailor, Mrs.
Brand brought in two women who looked the picture of misery
and fatigue. One was so faint that we ha great difficulty in
getting her into her berth. I left Mrs. Brand to do what she
could for her, and returned to the man.
That bundle which lay across his knees, I little thought
when moving past him I had touched it with my dress what it
was. I approached death for the first time. It was an infant.
I saw the light of the lamp upon a white, calm face and two
little plump hands. I could not doubt for an instant that it
was dead, and when I came and knelt by the man as he sat on
the floor, I touched the fair little arm and found it cold.
As he sat in the corner, propped up by the settees, his head
hung forward, and two or three tears had dropped down his
rough cheeks on the waxen face of the babe. I asked the poor
fellow if I might take it away, and he looked at me with stupid
bloodshot eyes, but did not answer, so I took it from him, carry-
ing it to my own berth, cut off the little frock, which was soiled
and wet, wrapped it in a small white shawl, and laid my white
veil over its quiet face.
Though it has taken a long time to describe all this, I do not
think it was half an hour in the doing.
The next thing was to go to the chief cabin and see what
OFF THE SKKLLIGS. 89
could be done for this man. I wanted to find some one to
attend him and take him away, but was very glad to retire, for
the noise and excitement of the rescued people were distressing
to witness.
My uncle sat very gravely, but with rather a puzzled air, at
the head of the table ; the American captain was at his right
hand, and looked as composed as if no such tilings as ship-
wrecks had ever been brought under his notice; opposite to
him were the two passengers, one of whom when I entered was
proposing my uncle's health, and when the other arose to second
it, he staggered back, and subsided quietly on to the floor, contriv-
ing to make his speech in this new position, and wave his hands
with great politeness and elegance.
"The poor souls," observed Mrs. Brand, speaking of the
women, "ought not to have been allowed to eat and drink as
they pleased. It's no use Master telling me to speak to them
they are quite past listening."
I retreated hastily. They had quite enough on their hands
without helping me, so I resolved to do what I could for my
sailor by myself, and on returning found that he had managed
to raise himself, and was kneeling, with his elbows on the
settee. I thought he was muttering a prayer; and though
sailors are not irreligious folks, I did not see this without sur-
prise. I waited until he should have finished ; but fatigue over-
came him, his head dropped, and he dozed ; so I touched him,
and asked if I should wash his arm, for it seemed to have been
burnt. I had warm water ; but when I set it beside him he
said in a hoarse whisper, u I can get up if you like," and accord-
ingly he rose with difficulty, and sat by the table under the
lamp.
Never in my life had I touched anything so utterly begrimed.
Some of his matted hair and whiskers had been singed off; he
must have put his head into the thickest of the smoke, for the
rain had washed enough black out of it over his face to give
him the complexion of a mulatto. His old burnt jacket was
stiff with wet, and stuck to the injured arm ; but nothing could
be done until it was removed, so I took a sharp pair of scissors
and cut it up the sleeve and shoulder as gently as I could.
The pain this gave him roused him effectually, and he writhed
9d OFF THE SEELLIGS.
in his seat, "but did not utter any exclamation. I had only
olive-oil and cotton-wool to dress the burn with ; but they would
be of no use I knew while the salt water was in it, so with the
courage of desperation I proceeded to bathe it, trembling from
head to foot with fear, as my patient did with pain.
No one to help, no use calling anybody, so on I went until
the poor fellow's arm was bandaged and his blistered hand tied
up in one of my finest pocket-handkerchiefs.
The left hand also was a good deal swelled and blistered, so
I washed it also and tied it up, which done, in a hoarse whisper
he begged me to wash his face.
Accordingly I went to my can for fresh cold water, turned a
towel over my hand, held back his thick hair from his fore-
head, and washed and dried his face deliberately and comfort-
ably ; but it did not look much the better for this attention
the shock head of curly hair was half singed off, the whiskers
were burnt, the lips cracked, and altogether he was an ugly
specimen of a seaman, and his head being still wet from the
rain, little ink-like streams were trickling down his neck. I
dried his hair, and made three towels quite black in the process.
He certainly was an uncommonly dirty fellow, and looked as if
he had never been clean ; but then he was my own particular
patient, so I shut my eyes to that, and was proud of him. Be-
sides, the courage he had displayed while I was torturing his
arm made me admire him.
I now told him to sit quietly while I went to inquire for a
berth for him. Brand, whom I consulted, said that my uncle
and the captain of the burnt ship were on deck. They had
given up the chief cabin to the women ; the captain would have
Mr. Graham's sleeping cabin; and he did not know without
inquiring where the man was to be lodged.
He was just starting on his errand when I remembered that
my poor sailor had had no supper excepting the morsels I had put
into his mouth at first, so I told Brand to bring me something
good for him, and he soon returned and followed me down with
a glorious basin of soup, a plate of roast beef, and some salad,
and a glass of spirits and water. When I entered, however, I
found Tom and Mrs. Brand both looking a good deal fright-
s/red
OFF THE SEELLIGS. 9 1
" Where is my man ? " I exclaimed.
" You should not have left him," said Tom ; " when I came
in he was almost fainting, lying on the floor. I thought he had
better be with the children than anywhere else ; in fact, he can-
not be moved, so as soon as he came to a little, Mrs. Brand and
I helped him to turn into this empty berth."
" I thought he was dying, I declare," said Mrs. Brand, who
always thought something dreadful.
I went up to the berth, where the man, who looked as if he
had boxing-gloves on, was lying half insensible. I was sure he
wanted food. I could not bear that these delectable viands
should be wasted, so I resolved to shake him if nothing else
would do, and make him eat if I possibly could. I gave the
meat to Tom to hold and the tumbler to Mrs. Brand, for the
yacht pitched a little ; then I brought the soup close to him and
told him his supper was come.
The smell of food is sweet to the starving. My sailor pre-
sently came out of his stupor, raised himself on his elbow, looked
into the soup-bowl, and his whole countenance lighted up. I
began to feed him, and he ate every mouthful ; we then cut up
the meat and brought him his grog. His great hungry eyes
followed us, and with a murmur of satisfaction he opened his
mouth for my fork, and went on calmly and deliberately eating
and drinking until all was consumed.
Just as he had finished, laid himself down, and begun to
snore, one of the children reared up its head and cried out,
" Oh ! please, I want some tea, and I want some corn-cakes and
some plums and pudding."
" Why, you stingy thing ! " said Tom to me, " you have not
given them half enough to eat. You should have seen the
people eat in the chief cabin."
I took the little creature up, wrapped her in a shawl, and when
I said she should have some more supper she laughed for joy.
We drew the curtains to shut out my sailor that he might
sleep in peace, and we might enjoy ourselves at our ease. My
sickness was now so entirely gone, that though the vessel heaved
and pitched a good deal, I felt quite well, and so hungry, that
when Mrs. Brand appeared with a world of good ttarn^, \ s&\
down to make a late supper with Tom in my own cativn^ \u& wcl\
92 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
I each holding a child, for both were now awake. Mrs. Brand,
standing by, pinned the joint of beef with a fork that it might
not bounce off the table, and held the salad-bowl in her hand
for the same reason.
I had drawn the curtain across my own berth, in which the
dead infant lay, and I did not mean to mention its presence to
any one, least of all to Mrs. Brand. Yet though we had such
cause for joy in the saving of many lives, I felt as if guilty of
great heartlessness in eating and enjoying myself while the little
body lay so near to me.
But the occasion was peculiar. Tom was in a genial humour,
like his old self, easy and affectionate ; the children were in
ecstasies over their supper, and Mrs. Brand in high spirits, as
was usual when her hands were full ; so I ate and delighted in
Tom's talk, and felt the pleasure of success after anxiety.
CHAPTER X.
"The wills above be done, but I would fain die a dry death." Tempest.
That was a night of considerable fatigue, for as fast as one
child fell asleep the other woke and cried, and there were two
women who were ill, and I had to go to them. Poor creatures !
they did not complain of past suffering, but they evidently had
suffered sorely.
My sailor was so quiet that once in passing I opened the cur-
tains of his berth and looked at him ; sound asleep, eyes shut,
mouth open, the pillow black from contact with his hair, and
the sheets in the same condition wherever his torn and scorched
shirt had come into contact with them.
At last, when all was quiet, and Mrs. Brand was dozing on
the settee, Tom came in and asked if I could do anything for
the American passenger ; he had been very much hurt, but had
not complained.
We made him welcome, and I recognised him as the man
who had proposed Uncle Rollin's health. He hobbled in with
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 93
groans of pain. "His feet had been burnt/' be said, "by the
dreadful heat of the lower deck when be went below with the
captain to investigate the cause of the fire."
He had taken off his shoes shortly after on account of the
unbearable heat they retained, and at first the burns had seemed
mere trifles, but salt water had got into them and he was suffer-
ing agony,
" I have not been able to do as much as I could have wished,"
he said, " for I am coming oyer to Europe for my health, so I
tried to give as little trouble as possible, for you may suppose we
have had a hard time of it"
He had a lovd hollow cough. I woke Mrs. Brand, and we
did what we could for him, but did not relieve him much.
He had been a passenger on board the burnt ship, and as he
sat, propped up with pillows in a corner, he gave usr an account
of their numbers, by which 1 found that we had rescued thirty
persons, only six of whom, beside the captain, were seamen.
" A queer lot we were," he observed ; " those women that you
saw in the chief cabin belong to a trapeze company ' a show, 9
we call it in the States* and some of them were dancers, some
conjurors, and some actors, fairies in a sort of pantomime, which,
as far as I can make out, their show partly consisted in. Sallow
stunted young things they were ; the superior members of the
troupe had gone up to New York, and come home in a steamer,
these were following in a merchant ship, and very decently they
behaved themselves*" he continued; "that old Irishwoman
snoring yonder acted mother to them. She swoua^at them now
and then, but to do her justice she kept them out of harm's
way."
" None of the women in the cabin looked young," I said, sur-
prised at this account of their calling.
" No, they wither early, I should judge. But some are not
young ; one is the mother of three strapping girls that are here
with her : they dance, and she is a fairy."
In spite of his past fatigues he could neither rest nor be silent,
but by little and little as the night wore away and daylight
came in from above, he told us the story of their misfortunes.
" The ship was laden with cotton, and about eight o'clock on
Friday evening a steam was perceived to be rising from the
94 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
hatches over the main hole ; every minute or two a -whiff of
light smoke came after it, and fears were entertained that it
might be caused by fire-damp.
"There was some secrecy at first, but the men were sent
below to the pumps, I know, and there was some notion of cut-
ting holes over where the cargo was stowed so as to pour down
water on it, while letting in as little air as possible ; but it seems
that if cotton is well flooded, it is liable to swell so as to burst
the deck open, and I made out that this plan was given up.
" But in less than an hour," he continued, " things looked so
much worse that the captain ordered all hands on deck and
summoned the passengers ; he told them that a portion of the
cargo certainly had ignited, but that as we were only seventy
miles from Cape Clear, he hoped we might make it, and also
get the fire under.
" The steerage passengers were at their supper when they were
sent for. I heard them as they came up saying what a mighty
hot night it was, what an uncommonly hot night ; he told it
all out in two minutes, and began to give his orders to his men
instantly. It was a very sudden blow, and not one of those
people, man or woman, said a single word.
" Nobody took any further notice of them," he continued, " all
hands were set to work to extinguish the fire. Did you ever see
afire?"
" No, never."
" I never saw one the least like this ; a little steam would
come puffing out over a spot in the deck not larger than the
crown of a man's hat, and then blue flame would hover in it,
but not touch the deck. They would put it out directly, and it
would appear in another place wherever it had fed, the place
was rotten.
" The crew consisted of thirty all told. The passengers were
twenty, not including these children.
"Excepting myself, Mr. Brandon, Mr. Crayshaw, and the
children, they were all steerage passengers. We stood at first
a good deal huddled together, but as soon as I had passed to the
front I saw that the main hatchway had been lifted, that the
bales might be raised by a crane ; but the heat and steam seemed
to drive the men back, and the bales were so rotten that they
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 95
would not hold together on the crane hook, but kept falling
back with a dull thud, and when this had happened several
times, the captain ordered the hatches to be battened down, and
all sail to be crowded.
" It was now dark, and though the heat increased, I did not
see that the fire gained on us at all ; they kept flooding the deck
with water and throwing it up into the rigging. I was full of
hope that it would be kept under, and therefore it was a horrid
blow to me when the captain had the lower sails hauled up, and
gave orders for unlashing and launching the long-boat and the
jolly-boat. I do not believe this was a quarter of an hour from
the time he had battened down the hatches. Well, the jolly-
boat was stowed inside the long-boat ; they succeeded in getting
her unlashed ; we hove to and she was launched. Brandon and
Crayshaw had volunteered to go below and help the men to
fetch up biscuit, flour, water, cocoa, and any other provisions they
could lay their hands on. I saw tihem come on deck again all
right, and one boat was ready, but when they tried to get the
long boat unlashed flames broke out, and before these could be
got under she was so damaged that they dared not use her.
Those two boats would have held us alL
" An hour at least was spent over those boats. I had volun-
teered to do what I could, and the captain ordered me to take
all the women below that they might put on their warmest
shawls and fetch up their money and what valuables they had.
I was to make them keep together and be ready to bring them
up at a signal from him.
" My legs trembled under me as I marshalled them, for I was
shocked to hear that he did not think there was any use wast-
ing time over the small boats, and meant to give all his mind to
the making of a raft.
" It all seemed so sudden ! As I went after the women I
shouted to Crayshaw, 'What on earth does it all mean?' He
was just flinging off his velvet coat, and answered, ' Depend upon
it he knows what he is about.' I felt, as I suppose a man may,
when, not thinking he is at all near death, he is told by the sur-
geons that he has only an hour to live. They were already
flinging overboard every spar and plank and spare yard ths^
96 OFT THE SKELLIGS.
could lay their hands on to construct a raft as fast as ever they
could.
"Never shall I forget how the women tore out and tossed
over their things, nor how their tongues went. I helped them
to make up their bundles as well as I could, but nobody knew
what to save. We did not know what to be at, and before we
were called they would go up again carrying arm-loads of rub-
bish, old shawls, old baskets, bandboxes, bundles, and even old
shoes.
" I had heard the constant splash and shouting as the materials
went over the side, and as I looked over, what would I not have
given to be young ! A dozen men were working with a will,
There was that dandy Crayshaw lashing away, and Brandon as
nimble as a cat following out all his directions, for the captain
knew that Crayshaw had experience, and had given him the
command. They were making it on the lee side, of course, but
still it pitched about more than was agreeable. It was a strange
sight, but dear me, what should a young lady know about the
making of a raft ! "
" How large was it ? w I asked.
" How large ? well, about five-and-thirty feet long, and rather
narrow in proportion. I am amazed when I think how the time
appeared to spin on, for it was now eleven o'clock, and I was
still standing among the rubbish and luggage of different sorts
when Brandon came up to the captain and reported the raft
ready. Crayshaw followed in a moment, and the captain said,
* Gentlemen, there is no time to be lost.' * We are under you*
orders, captain,' said Brandon. A great burst of smoke came
between us, and I did not hear the answer, but I saw that a
good many of the women had disappeared ; they had gone down
again, hoping to save something more, poor soulsj and I ran
after Brandon, and between us we argued and pushed them up,
stumbling as they came with quantities of bedding and boxes,
not a particle of which ever was lowered. The change was
amazing by this time ; the whole place was gleaming with little
spurts of flame, but there was a great noise and confusion,
screaming of women, and cries of shame. 'What's up now?'
we shouted to Crayshaw, who was kicking the bundles aside as
they fell, and pulling the women on. The passengers, he told us,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 97
and some of the crew had made a rush for the jolly-boat. It
was manned by the most able-bodied of the crew ; it had dropped
astern and disappeared.
"When, hours after that, we counted out the people left
behind, twenty-three were missing ; they had stolen away from
the ill-fated ship, and no doubt their excuse to themselves was
that if they had taken in any more they must have been
swamped.
"The captain, however, was* quite equal to the occasion,
and after swearing at the boat to relieve his mind, he vowed
he didn't see what there was to make such work about. * And
Mr. Crayshaw,' said he, ' that is your opinion.' Crayshaw was
an American. He took the captain's meaning instantly, and
between them I believe they actually made the women think
the raft was safer than the boat.
" Very nasty work it was getting them lowered, and before
this was half done, one of them cried out, ' Merciful Heaven, I
forgot the baby I ' She had been very good to the orphan
children, but the second time she went down she had laid this
one in a berth, and only just found out that no one had brought
it up. * She was like a mad creature, and down she flew, Bran-
don after her. They found the child asleep a wonderful thing
that was surely. He wrapped a blanket about its head to keep
the smoke off, and tried to get on deck following her, but they
were met by such a volume of smoke and steam that she fell
down choked, and he got hold of her by the arm and hauled her
np by main force ; he fell twice, but when he was down he could
breathe, and he crawled on deck dragging her after him. They
were not five minutes below, but when he got her on deck he
was badly burnt and she was stone dead.
" He never knew that. I took the child and he staggered on
between two till he got his breath, and soon none of us doubted
that our best chance was to embark on the raft, for the beams
were creaking and splitting, and the flames curling round the
mainmast, and with a loud singing noise the pitch seemed to
boiL The fire did not appear as yet to have possession of a
large space, but it was all about the mainmast, and that made
us long to give it a wide berth.
" We were all lowered without accident, and it ma a fc\ra&$g&
98 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
thing to see her go sailing on when we had cast off and were
drifting astern.
" The captain had a pocket compass, the Lord be praised for
that ; and for my fellow-passengers, never were there such ridi-
culous fellows, I do believe."
" Eidiculous ! " I exclaimed, with astonishment.
" Well," he replied, as if apologising for them, " there was
hardly any motion on the raft at first, but one woman had
brought a pillow-case half full of oranges and apples with her ;
some of them got loose, and Brandon and Crayshaw had to lie
down on their stomachs to catch them for fear they should lose
any and roll off. Crayshaw as he did it actually whistled and
sung. Another woman had brought a rope of onions that she
snatched from under one of the boats on the poop (good luck to
her for it). Brandon tied it together with the string it had
hung by, and put it round his neck as the easiest way of carry-
ing it. As he stooped it flew over his head, and he called to
Crayshaw, ' Look out, America, my necklace is coming ! '
" I felt confounded at their behaviour. I said to the captain,
1 Well, this is a most amazing way of committing ourselves to
the sea. Anybody, to see them go on, might think we'd met
with some great deliverance.'
" ' Well, Mr. Dickson, sir,' replies the captain, i I reckon
they perhaps think so ; ' and he looked on uncommonly satisfied
As the last orange went in and the pillow-case was tied up, they
began to overhaul the onions, and Brandon insisted on filling
CrayshaVs pockets with them; they seemed indeed so. light-
hearted and so excited that at last I could bear it no longer, and
I burst out, 'What in nature all this means, I suppose they
know themselves, for I don't.'
" ' Means/ replied the captain, turning his head over his
shoulder and staring at me. ' Why, aren't you aware that every
minute of the last hour she has been just as likely to blow up
as not ? ay, and a great deal likelier.'
" He confirmed his opinion with various strong expressions
that I need not repeat to a lady.
" But the notion of the blowing up stopped my remarks for
some time. I had thought all along that they had both seemed
in a frantic state of eagerness to get that raft ready, and when
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 99
Brandon had been helped down, for he was terribly bruised, I
saw them take each other by the hand. Bruised they both
were, but neither of them seemed to feel their hurts at first.
" * Fire-damp's an etarnal risky article,' continued the captain.
'Mr. Brandon, sir, I'd be much obliged to you for an apple; I'm
a'most choked.' Brandon turned as he lay and gave him one.
The captain took out his pocket-knife and peeled it in quite as
particular a way as ever he would have done in his own ship.
Then he jerked the peel overboard, and while he was eating he
and his chief mate watched it.
" * We shall do now,' said he ; ' we're making no way at all,
and she's forging on pretty fast ahead.'
" In fact, it had fallen very calm, and I calculate we had been
on the raft half an hour, when he gave orders to his men to see
about getting up the sail that we had brought with us. It
took some time to fix that, as you may suppose, but the ship,
though she was sailing wildly, was well out of our way by that
time, and during the whole remainder of that first night nobody
seemed to feel either fear, fatigue, or hunger. The excitement
had been great, and there was a good deal to do, the boxes, bags,
and what not that the women sat on, had all to be fastened to-
gether, and by means of a cabin lamp that we had brought with
us, we did this pretty well. Then the raft had constantly to be
lashed afresh in one place or another, and as soon as it was light
the captain had a great sea-anchor made in case the wind should
freshen.
" It was not till high day that we all knew where our real
weak point was we had hardly anything to eat ; almost all the
women as' they passed the boats where they were stored had
filled their pockets with onions, and, as I said, we had a pillow-
case half full of oranges and apples besides that we had plenty
of water, but only a very small keg of flour, and it was not half
full. Of course, the children would not touch the raw onions,
nor could we, but we each had an apple, and we turned the onions
over to the seamen and the women. Then we kneaded up a
little flour in water for each person. It made a kind of pas,te,
and we coaxed the children to eat it, putting bits of orange into
it, but we began to feel the pangs of hunger by fti&\ \ivma w\.
Brandon and Crajrshaw were very stiff and sore. It i^L c\xxit
100 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and calmer till the raft hardly swayed on the sea, and the fine
warm air comforted us after the chill of the night. Brandon
and Crayshaw, who had been amusing the children since day-
light, whistling and singing to them, telling them queer stories,
setting up little whirligigs for them, which they pulled with
strings, settling the women's shawls and serving out the rations,
had now begun to be very quiet ; they were nearly used up, I
calculate.
" But about ten o'clock the women began to show themselves
weary and out of spirits ; first one shed a few tears and then
another. Then Brandon asked if any of them had got a Bible
or a Prayer-book, and one of them produced a dirty little Prayer-
book. So he proposed to the captain to have morning service,
and they were all pleased, poor souls ; it seemed not only some-
thing to occupy them, but the right sort of thing. So he read
over the English morning service, and then ' some collects and
hymns. He sang several hymns for them to please them, and
they joined as well as they could. Then after that, it being
almost a dead calm, he and Crayshaw laid themselves down in
the sun, and if you'll believe me, they both fell sound asleep,
and slept as soundly as they could have done in their berths,
and I think as sweetly.
" That was something for us all to look at, and for some of us
to wonder over.
" The captain had his compass in his hand, and the great sail
shifted and flapped. Another onion was served out all round,
and the children had their paste again ; they would have cried
if they had been hungry, and none of us could have borne that,
it lowered our courage so.
" The baby had been a great pleasure and occupation to the
poor women and girls. He was ten months old, and I actually
fancied that when he woke in the morning, after sleeping all
night, he looked about him as if he had the wit to be surprised.
He spluttered a good deal over his paste, but they made him eat
it, and he crowed at the sails and the sparkles on the water and
his little sisters almost all the morning. He was asleep now,
and all was very still, but at last the captain, not without un-
willingness, gave the order to haul down our sail. There was
OFF THE SKELLIGS. roi
hardly a waft of air, he said, but what came being now off shore,
down it must come.
" Oh ! yon cannot think how much worse for us that quiet
was than all the noise and fright and hurry that had gone
before.
"With the noise of hauling down the sail, Brandon and
Crayshaw woke, shivered a little, sat up, and glanced at one
another. It always hurt me to see them do that," he added,
and paused.
" Indeed, why should it have done ? " I inquired.
" Well, yes, ma'am, thank you, I'll take some tea " (this was
to Mrs. Brand, who came in and offered him a cup) " because it
made me feel that they knew theirs were the most valuable lives
on the raft : we were oldish and they were in their prime. Oh,
these feet of mine ! I know I shall never stand on them again."
" Oh yes, indeed you wilL We shall get into Valencia shortly,
and you will have a surgeon ; but tell me about the raft, that
seems to make you forget the pain."
" Why, as I said, those two woke and looked about them,
and all seemed changed to them and to us ; they were cold and
hungry, and dirty, and wet, all the excitement was over, and
they were both so stiff now that they could hardly drag them-
selves upright. I could see, too, that they were sorely vexed to
find that the sail was lowered.
" Brandon twisted himself round that the women might not
see his face ; Crayshaw made an inspection of the raft, and saw
that she lay as still as a tub on a pond made an inspection of
the water, but not the remotest flutter of a sail could be seen
anywhere. He looked for a moment dumbfoundered, then he
drew a diamond ring that he wore from his finger, and with a
sort of rage of impatience chucked it into the sea.
" Nobody but the captain and I saw the action, unless Brandon
did. I saw the little sparkle flash and go down. Then he
looked up and catching the captain's eye said, for an excuse,
1 It cut my hand last night ; I suppose I have a right to fling it
away if I choose.'
" * Well,' answered the captain, ' my opinion is contrairy to
that,' ' I should like to fling myself after it, I kno^w , ' Ciraj&ftsw
went on, in a bitter tone, poor fellow, but speaking \ow.
102 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" * Well,' replied the captain, * and for aught you know, sir,
so should I, but my conscience is clean contrairy to that sort of
thing. It wouldn't square with what I have to do.'
" ' I have nothing to do/ said Crayshaw.
"The captain put his hand in his coat pocket and pulled
out a parcel. 'Mr. Dickson,' said he, 'if these two gentle-
men air agreeable, will you serve out an onion to each of 'em,
for they've not had their rations. And, gentlemen,' said he,
looking straight at Crayshaw, ' you air always in such spirits as
I've never found opportunity hitherto to put in a word, but now,
if you air agreeable, I propose a smoke.' With that he opened
the parcel, and there were enough cigars in it for every man to
have one, and there was one over. The sailors would rather by
half have had a pipe, but oh ! how glad we all were of those
whiffs of comfort ! They seemed to put heart into us, and after
that Crayshaw said he thought the onions smelt rather relishing,
and ate his. Brandon had got one down already without the
least ado. Now it seems odd to you, I daresay, when we were at
that pass no signs of rescue and hardly anything to eat that
we should have cared about the eating of tin onion."
" Yes," I said, " I should have expected that you would .all
liave been more frightened more serious."
" Ah ! well that stage came next ; it had fallen perfectly
calm, and now a fog came up and wrapped itself over us, so as
we could hardly see from one end of the raft to the other. As
long as the captain's steady face could be seen the girls could
keep quiet, but when it grew dim in the mist they got afraid,
first one began to fret and then another. Crayshaw was himself
again, and he scolded and joked and encouraged as well as he
could, but all to no purpose; 'we weren't making a mite of
way, they knew ; they should all go down to the bottom or be
starved; they hadn't been half such good girls as they could
ha' wished to be if they had but know'd how it would end,' and
with that they began to talk about their sins, and next about
their souls ! Crayshaw turned himself round then, for he knew
he was done for ; and Brandon said if we would light the lamp
he would have another service. They were all in a terrible fuss
by that time, sobbing and wringing their hands, but he managed
to get the command, and when they cried out that he must pray
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 103
for them as lie did by the poor lady that died on board, he said,
quite cheerfully, yes, he would, there could not be a better time.
Well, I know the captain was as frightened as could be,
their crying and their talk made him groan and wipe his fore-
head as the burning ship never did * Good God, Mr. Brandon/
said he, ' if anything can be done, you air the man to do it ;
won't you act parson and tell 'em they're all right ? '
" I was nearly used up by that time and lay still, but I got
aware by degrees that Brandon was half reading, half discoursing
to them, talking about the love of God to man, if youll believe
me. My word ! he almost made out it was well for them that
they were sinners, because it was for such, said he, that the Son
of God had died."
" Don't you think he was right ? " I said, observing that he
paused and seemed to reflect. "The women and girls were
dreadfully frightened because they suddenly felt that they were
sinners; how natural then, and how right, to show that for
sinners Christ had died."
" Well, I suppose it must have been right, for it answered ;
but I thought it strange when they all felt how hard it was to
go down that he should talk about the love of God. But," he
continued, " though I haven't got religion myself, I agree that
he behaved himself grandly. If he was a parson and preached
anywhere, I'd go twenty miles to hear him, not only for what
he said, but because he had a voice that's almost enough to charm
up the dead.
" He never said a word about death, either drowning or starva-
tion. If Christ was here now, he asked them, standing on the
raft, and they could see Him, should they be afraid to ask Him
to forgive them and help them over their last trouble and take
them home ? Some of them said, ' No.' ' Well then, ask Him,'
says he, ' for He is here standing on the raft. I feel that He is,
though I cannot see Him.'
" And so then he began to pray. That sort of religion is not
what I've been used to, but it seemed to warm my blood and
make death bearable. He made out, you see, that Christ was the
love of God waiting with us till we were ready for Him. Well,
I shouldn't wonder if I've heard that said before, but sitting
still On the raft on the still water, and the still mist lying as
104 0FF THE SKELLIGS.
thick over us as a shroud, lowered down ready because there'd
be none to do it for us after death, it sounded different, and I
calculate you'll not be sorry to hear that before I went off into a
faint, as I did from hunger and a sore fit of coughing, I made up
a prayer myself, and felt easier for it."
"You must have suffered more than any of them, you are
such an invalid."
" I don't know about that, I had neither burns on me nor
bruises, and I was not fatigued I had only to lie still; and
through all the faint or the sleep (part both, I guess) I heard
him talking to them with a sweet man's voice, always quite
cheerful, and then I heard him sing for them, and then I grew
quite insensible.
" I believe it was pain that woke me at last, more than motion
and noise. I sat up; there was a swaying and a surging of
water, and the sea-anchor was just about to be launched over-
board.
" What is that like, do you say ? Well, it's something like a
sort of a huge kite, weighted at one end so as to keep it up and
down in the water; we were fastened to it by a rope about
twenty fathoms long. The object of it was to keep the raft end
on to the sea."
" Was that about midnight ? " I inquired.
" I think so ; the full moon was just going down, and the sea
had risen when I sat up."
" Then you had the sail again, I suppose 1 "
" Not so, a raft can only sail before the wind, and now the
wind that had come up, suddenly pushing the mist before it,
was from the south-east."
"Then I am afraid you were in worse case than ever," I
observed.
"No, not altogether, for at least we had something to do;
we had to hold on and take care of the children. It is astonish-
ing to me, considering all we went through, that the time seems
so short. There was no reading, no praying, and no singing
now, you may be sure. The baby cried and wailed all night,
but the other children were tolerably quiet. We had hardly any-
thing left by that time to give them, and they were perished
with cold and wet with the salt water. By eleven o'clock the
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 105
women all tied themselves together, and as well as we could
hear ourselves speak, we shouted to them and to one another to
keep up heart, for if we did not soon fall in with a sail we
should be swamped, and then, we said, the Lord would have
mercy on our souls. Oh, that was a dreadful day, but yet, if it
had to come over again, I would rather go through with it than
with the calm. I cannot* speak of it any more, and these feet
of mine shoot fire. The whole day long we were knocked about
by the wind and drenched with rain and salt spray ; sometimes
the waves that struck us loosened a spar or plank and it was
flung among us, striking us and loosening our hold. It was
when one of those seas struck us that the baby got a blow ;
Brandon had it on his arm at the time, the poor women being
all so spent with fatigue that they could not hold it. But I
don't remember much more, except that they lashed me to Cray-
shaw that he might hold me up in short, we were all knotted
and held together round the spar that we set up for a mast, and
how we got over the day I cannot say that I know. Yet though
I seemed to others to be insensible, I revived the instant I
heard the captain call out that he saw a light. The carpenter
roared out, ' A sail, a sail, right ahead/ and a minute after we
heard a rousing cheer."
CHAPTEE XL
" As proper men as ever trod
Upon neat's leather." Julius Casar.
About seven o'clock I looked out and found we were getting
very near Valencia. My poor patient, who was in constant pain,
expressed a wish to be carried on deck, and I was not sorry for
this, as I had the children to dress and feed before they could
be sent on shore.
Brand, however, who came in with the captain of the yacht to
assist Mr. Dickson on deck, told me that " master " intended to
keep the children on board, and only send the other passengers
and the sailors on shore : a good breakfast was to be prepared
106 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
for them at the inn, for we had not provisions and accommoda-
tion enough.
Accordingly I went to help Mrs. Brand in dressing the women :
to some we gave a shawl, to others a cloak, and I had to take off
the muslin gown I was wearing for a poor girl who was almost
in rags.
At eight o'clock we came alongside the wharf, and as I wanted
very much to see hoth Crayshaw and Brandon, I darted up on
deck, holding up as well as I could the train of a white alpaca
gown that I was wearing ; for my morning dresses were all gone.
It was trimmed with apple-green ribbons, and was far too fine for
the occasion.
A basket of fresh vegetables and flowers was already on board,
showing that I was but just in time. As I passed it, I lifted
out some roses and stood shading my eyes with them, for the
low sunbeams dazzled me.
I saw several men about to land, and one sitting on a deck
seat who I was instantly sure must be " the dandy Crayshaw ; "
not that there was anything of the dandy about him, but that
he was manifestly so handsome that whatever he wore would
appear to become him.
He pulled off his hat with his left hand, and, if I had felt
any doubt as to his identity, his tone of voice when I answered
his greeting would instantly have betrayed him. As I sat down
by him his eye was caught by the flowers, and he said some-
thing about the rose of England : he had always thought of it
as a pink flower, " but he perceived," looking at the flowers and
at me, " that it was white."
I proposed to put one of the rosebuds into his coat for him,
and he looked pleased, but said nothing ; perhaps he thought it
was a common custom in these islands for girls to go about
decorating strangers with the national flower. It was not the
first time I had put a flower into that coat. It was one belong-
ing to Tom, and I knew there was a little band below one of
the button-holes for confining the stalk. Mr. Brandon, he told
me, had not yet come on deck ; but the captain was with my
uncle, making arrangements for the passengers and the crew to
land. I should like to have spoken to him, but the girls were
beginning to come on deck, and one, I was told, had no shoes to
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 107
land in, so I went down to find a pair for her ; their poor array
had been sorely damaged in the drying, and when the last pair
of feet had been fitted with some embroidered slippers, I came
up again, and was only just in time to see the American captain,
who had already landed, standing hat in hand, on the quay, with
his men behind him acknowledging the cheer from the yacht.
The women were then sent on shore to the inn, and we sailed
into the middle of the harbour, where we cast anchor, and I had
a good breakfast on deck ; for the chief cabin was in a state of
great confusion, and my own cabin was occupied. It was a
beautiful summer morning, warm and calm ; the lovely rocky
coast appeared to cut itself holes in the sky, and the dazzling
water was so brimful of light that one could not look at it.
Just as I had finished this .breakfast (which I shall never forget,
for I had never been really hungry in my life before, and did
not know how delicious a thing is eating in such circumstances),
I heard a strange voice in my cabin, and straightway proceeding
thither, I found that Tom had been ashore, had brought a surgeon
on board, and they were standing together by my sailor's berth.
Mrs. Brand, who was very tired, was gone to rest ; but Brand
and I produced various things that the surgeon wanted sponges,
warm water, &c, and at his desire we held them for him while
he examined the injured arm.
My sailor was awake, and staring at us all with such evident
surprise, as gave his features almost a ludicrous expression
singed, bruised, and scratched as he was, it was hard to say what
he might have been like under other circumstances, but I could
not help perceiving that when he looked at me he appeared
excessively disconcerted. I did not see any reason for this I
was not at all disconcerted myself : a girl no older than I was
had left Ipswich to be a nurse in King's College Hospital, and
why should not I do a little nursing too, when it had come in
my way so naturally ?
" Well," said the doctor, as with great difficulty the poor man
wrenched himself round so as to face us, " I hope, my man, you
feel yourself able to acquiesce in the will of Providence ? "
The man looked at him. " I feel nothing of the sort," he
answered bluntly, at the same time turning, with a grimace of
pain, to suit the surgeon's convenience. " If you had asked me
108 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
whether I felt grateful," he presently added, "I should have
answered heartily ' Yes ; ' but if fire and water had both done
their worst on me, I could but have acquiesced."
The doctor, on this unexpected retort, looked a little crest
fallen ; for the tone of it was to the last degree hoarse, and the
manner of it was irascible. I was delighted, for I have always
thought it very impertinent in the educated classes to be so fond
of driving morals home to those whom they consider beneath
them.
" Well, my man," he muttered, "just as you please."
In the meantime Tom had retreated, and I did not like to
have Mrs. Brand called for, for I knew how timorous and tear-
ful she was ; so when the surgeon said, " Who is to attend to
this arm for the future ? " I replied, " I believe I shall, if you
will be good enough to tell me how."
" You shall ? Very well, ma'am ; you think it won't frighten
you make you nervous ? "
" No. I hope such a burn on my own arm would not frighten
me ; why should I then be afraid of it on another person's ? "
" That," said the patient faintly, and with another grimace,
" has very little to do with it." I knew it had not almost as
soon as the foolish words were spoken; for when I saw his
features redden with pain, I felt my heart and courage sink ; but
I recovered myself presently, and stood by till the surgeon had
finished, and had given me his instructions.
The man looked at me several times. I was quite aware that
he had seen my momentary failure of courage : he was an obser-
vant fellow. I thought his last remark, though perfectly true,
was uncalled for ; but then, as I repeated to myself, he was an
American !
He complained of violent pain and stiffness across his shoulders,
and was desired to remain all day in his berth. His other hand
was then looked at. Lashing ropes had taken the skin off the
palm; but it was declared that nothing more was the matter
with it, excepting that the salt water had caused some irritation.
I was rejoiced at this ; there was at least only one hurt for me
to attend to, and I obeyed with a degree of alacrity that I was
ashamed of, when the surgeon said he had done with me, and
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 1 09
would trouble me to tell my brother he was now ready for the
fclean shirt that he had proposed to lend the patient.
Yes ! I went out of the cabin quicker than there was any
need for, and being very tired I had no sooner delivered the
message than I curled myself up in the corner of the settee, fell
fast asleep, and never woke till a rush of water broke the still-
ness and told me that we were leaving the harbour.
Uncle Rollin and Tom were both in the cabin, and when I
woke and looked up the former said, "Well, well, no wonder
she was tired ; she was not at. all in the way during the night,
was she, Tom ? "
"Quite the contrary," answered Tom pleasantly; and men
are so apt to look on women as encumbrances at sea, that this
admission more than contented me.
I was told that we had put the doctor on shore ; he was an
Englishman and had come with an excursion party from Killar-
ney. " He had said the children were very weak, and ought to
have food every two hours and and I'm sure I forgot his
name," my uncle continued, "but it seems he mainly wants
rest, food, and care, so I shall not put them on shore for the
present."
I went softly to my cabin with some soup for the children ;
the door was propped open, and I saw my sailor in his berth,
and Mrs. Brand nodding on a seat fast asleep ; both the chil-
dren were asleep also ; and I set down the soup, and stole softly
to my own berth ; for it vexed me to the heart to think that I
had been overcome by that drowsy fit, and had not spoken to
any one respecting the little infant whom I had laid there.
I opened the curtains, intending to look at it and lay my hand
on its pure white forehead; but to my surprise it had been
removed : there was a slight depression on the pillow, but the
babe was gone.
" Miss Graham."
I closed the curtain, and went to my patient. It was he who
had spoken ; but clean surroundings and brushed hair had made
another man of him ; he was not quite so hoarse either : rest
and food had partly restored his voice.
I asked if he knew anything of this removal. He said yes,
that the captain had come in before the surgeon left; that he
110 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
had mentioned the subject, and the surgeon had landed in charge
of the babe, and with all proper directions. *
He told me that he had breakfasted; and in reply to my
question, said he did not want anything, unless I would be kind
enough to examine his jacket and see whether there was a book
in it.
This singed and soaked garment lay on the floor : I picked it
up and brought it to the side of his berth. First came out a
short bit of tobacco-pipe ; then a knife ; lastly, a shabby book,
blistered and bulging with sea water.
I felt sorry to see how completely I had cut the poor man's
jacket to pieces ; for I knew it was the only upper garment he
possessed, and as I turned it over I said
" I am afraid this jacket is quite spoilt."
He smiled and answered gently, " Oh, it is of no consequence ;
I daresay your brother will lend me something to land in."
Fancy a sailor dressed up in Tom's clothes ! My brother,
indeed ! I was surprised at the man's quiet assurance. This
was American equality truly ; and when he added, " And if the
same kind hand to which so many of us are indebted will pro-
duce a pair of scissors to trim my hair," I felt my cheeks glow
with discomfort. I could not wait on this sailor so comfortably
if he smiled in my face and asserted such perfect equality.
"My maid shall bring you a pair of scissors," I answered,
speaking as gently as I could, but gravely ; and I was moving
away when he said in haste
" Excuse me, have I annoyed you ? "
Nowhere on land is so much difference acknowledged between
the employe* and the employer as there is in every vessel at sea.
Discipline forbids the " man before the mast " to assert equality.
I did not then know that this was just as much the case in
American ships I thought perhaps it was not, and felt vexed
with myself ; for what right in such a case had I to be offended?
So Brand at that moment coming in with a message to me, I
sent him for the scissors ; and when the man repeated, " I have
annoyed you," I replied, "If so, it is only because I am not
accustomed to the manners of Americans : they differ so much
from ours."
II In what respect 1 " he asked, and he looked puzzled.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. Ill
I was a little frightened, but could not now withdraw from
the discussion.
" English sailors all speak to ladies as that one did whom you
have just seen," I answered.
The look of surprise increased ; hut yet he seemed to catch a
part of my meaning instantly, for he replied
" He did not speak with half the respect that I feel madam.
(This last word he added doubtfully, and as an after-thought.)
I had not expected such an answer, and began to feel puzzled in
my turn. " Here is your book," I said, handing it ; and as I
glanced at him I encountered, instead of the respect he had
mentioned, a countenance in which amusement seemed to be
struggling with a kind of tender admiration.
No one had ever looked so at me before no, never in my
life ; and I was ashamed of myself to feel how it made me blush
(oh, how could I have been so foolish ?) ; and what was worse,
the man was actually aware of my confusion, and meant to help
me out of the scrape. He said
" I am not a sailor nor an American madam," again added
doubtfully, " but I feel the justice of your remarks. Very few
of us can claim equality with one of your sex and character, it
is so much above us."
" Here is your book," I interrupted hastily. " There was no.
inequality thought of but that of station a trifling one, which
I only wish to have admitted, because it makes it easier for me
to offer you my assistance."
I laid the book on his counterpane, intending to withdraw,
feeling thoroughly worsted and puzzled as to whom and what
this man might be ; but the swelled leaves fell open, and I saw
that it was a Greek Testament. Quite involuntarily a slight
expression of surprise escaped me, and, relieved at anything which
changed the subject, I said
" This is a Greek book ; is it yours ? "
"Yes, it is;" and with ready tact he did not add the
" madam."
" You are an educated man, then."
The same smile shone in his eyes, and softened the corners of
his mouth.
" Does that surprise you 1 " he asked.
1 12 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" Very much indeed : I believed you were one of the sailors."
I saw that I had made myself ridiculous, but that he was in-
dulgent towards my youth. He, however, did not refrain from
laughing, and I laughed too ; but, though it was at myself, I
was relieved at the turn things had taken. We both became
grave again suddenly; he, probably, from politeness; I, because
I remembered that, after all, he was a perfect stranger to me.
In grasping the book, he had forgotten the blistered hand, and
now dropped it hastily; upon which I took it up and said,
" You cannot hold this Testament ? I shall be happy to read
some chapters for you."
His eyes opened wider as he lay, and he looked very much
surprised, but he said not a word.
" Where shall I read ? " I inquired.
He asked for a chapter in Hebrews ; and I read it and the
two following ones. I should have stopped sooner, but for the
knowledge that if I looked up, I must encounter his eyes. The
task was a pleasant one too : I had not read Greek aloud for
some time, and the effect of it, and that time and that place,
was strange even to myself. The last time I had read it was
with my dear old master at school: now I was my own mistress,
it was even my turn to minister.
It was a daring thing to read Greek to a man and a scholar,
and I had done it of my own accord in order to escape from the
awkwardness of further conversation, or of a precipitate retreat.
I felt all this strongly at first; but, as the reading advanced, the
wonderful interest of the subject made me forget myself, and as
I read more seriously, my listener became more and more still.
The third chapter, which was the tenth of Hebrews, came to
an end at last ; and as it was finished, the first verse I had read
recurred to my thoughts, and seemed to echo in my ears " Now
of the things which we have spoken this is the sum." This I
what was this ? Why, that we had such a High Priest as we
needed. What then ? We must " hold fast this faith," and be
thankful. It seemed to me, as I sat there silently, that I did
hold it fast I did believe that Christ had saved this lost world
and me; but then what had followed? My eyes glanced on at the
next chapter : the result described there had not followed. It
was a chapter which often disturbed me. " By faith," it said,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 1 13
" Abel offered a more excellent sacrifice. By faith Noah prepared
an ark. By faith, Abraham, when he was tried, offered tip Isaac ;
and he that had received the promises offered up his only-
begotten son."
It is a remarkable thing, and I have noticed it too often to
think I can have been deceived, that moods of mind, and some-
times even thoughts, will occasionally pass from one person to
another, while both are silent, almost as distinctly as they can
be conveyed by words. So that day, as my thoughts went in
and in, searching for the faith they hardly dared to find, my
eyes at last encountered those of my companion : he was quite
as much absorbed as myself, and seemed to rouse himself with
difficulty, and said very slowly
" Thank you ! When a man has just escaped from what seemed
inevitable death, those chapters take a more solemn meaning for
him. There was something so real in Paul's religion ; he was
not afraid to say, ' If these things are so, what manner of persons
ought we to be V "
" I should have thought the more difficult thing to say, was,
What manner of things are we to do ? "
"That was included in a mind like his. The doing is an
inevitable result of the being. And yet," he went on, touching
very nearly on my thought, " the particular line that should be
taken up, the particular sacrifice to be made, is not always a
problem easily solved. The more free a man is to do as he
chooses, the more difficulty in offering the sacrifice that God
demands, and not one of his own inventing. But some people
have a way of thinking that what they are about must be pleas-
ing to God, if only it is unpleasant enough to themselves. And
then," he continued, " if we do give up a few years or a few
pounds, how mean we are about it ! Some of us, in our prayers,
can even ask God to enable us to do yet more, flaunting our
charity, as it were, in the face of our Maker. I have done it
myself," he added slowly, and as if the remembrance of it
astonished him.
" Oh, but St. Peter was beforehand with us there," I answered.
M I have often thought how mean it was in him to remind our
Lord that he had left all, and to ask what he was to have in
return for this great act."
H
J 14 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
"When all lie had to forsake," said my patient, "was his
share in a rotten old tub of a fishing-hoat, and those nets that he
had not finished mending. I should not wonder if, on the whole,
he was glad when he reflected that he had not mended all the
holes. He was content to give them up ; hut, as he was not to
use them again, it was not such a heart-break to leave them torn
as whole." He laughed and went on, " At least, that is the sort
of feeling I have had now and then."
I thought this willingness to talk of his meannesses, and his
feelings in general, was most likely in consequence of the ex*
treme danger he had just escaped from. People forget their
shyness and their reserves at such times. As for me, I liked his
straightforward openness ; it suited my humour and his circum-
stances.
" And yet," I answered, speaking up for St. Peter, " the boat
and the nets were all he had ; and so they were as much as any
of us can give."
" Certainly," he replied, " and we must all be willing to give
everything. Nothing is so little worth while, even here, as
being religious by halves. It's not worth while, looking out for
heaven on the whole, and yet going as near the edge of hell as
we dare, and as we can find footing. What we want is a heed-
less daring and a wise improvidence the other way. The right
man to follow any cause, let it be what it will, is he who loves
it well enough to fling to it everything he has in the world, and
then think that not enough, and so fling himself after it. This
last item often weighs down the scales held in heaven, and the
man gets what he gave himself for. God concludes the bargain
and accepts the pay. These things are reflections of the great
sacrifice 'Lo, I come/ And the need for self-sacrifice is so
completely the law of the world, that it is not merely in religious
matters that we must give all or get nothing. If we want to
do any great good to our fellow-creatures, though it be solely a
temporal good, it is just the same. Give yourself and all you
have, and most likely you will get it : give half, and you get
nothing worth mentioning."
" I wonder what you give," I thought ; and then I said aloud,
" Do you think St. Paul expected the world to last as long as it
has done 1 "
OFF THE SKELLIGS. J15
"No," he answered, "nor (if he had known that it would
last to this epoch) that he would have pictured to himself such
a world as this is."
" Because he would naturally expect that all Christians were
to be like the first," I replied ; " instead of which, if he could
see us now "-
" Well ? If he could see us now, Miss Graham ? "
"He would perhaps suppose that we were not Christians
at all"
" Indeed ! yet he had a good deal of that most excellent gift
of charity."
" I hope if our Saviour came He would acknowledge a great
many of us as Christians. But Paul ! I cannot see how Paul
could. He could not see into our hearts, or make allowance for
circumstances. I think he would he very indignant with us.
Perhaps he Would consider Christianity to he extinct, and want
to found it over again. And, you know, we could not argue
with Mm about apostolic succession."
" That would be very awkward," said my patient, and to my
surprise he laughed ; " but I think you would find," he added,
" that we should all come in for his censure with mortifying
equality. We should see the wonderful balance weighted again,
and learn which weighs heaviest light or love. I must re-
mind you, though, that if St. Paul came again he would find
some virtues among us, that, if all Christians had been like the
first, could have no longer any existence."
" Would he ? "
" Certainly ; for if the world had been thoroughly Christian,
there would by this time be no oppression, nor ignorance, nor
squalor, nor crime. The whole having been done, Paul would
have found us either attending to our own concerns, or waiting
to see what was to be done next."
He presently complained that the bandage on his arm was
tight, so I brought scissors to cut the thread, and a needle to
fasten it again. As I handled his arm my hand trembled a
little, ^tnd he said hoarsely, " Indeed, you do it excellently well ;
I am grieved that on my behalf you are obliged to undertake
what alarms you."
As pain made him wince once or twice, I "was a\i\^iY^i\r
Il6 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
ened ; for the excitement was over now, that in the night had
made it easy.
I had thought, several times during our conversation, that this
must be the man whom I had heard so much of from Mr. Dick-
son, and, unable to repress the wish to know, I said, " May I
look at your book again at the fly-leaf ? "
He smiled and asked " Why ? "
" Because I wish to know your name."
He pushed the Testament towards me with his better hand,
and said, "Perhaps I also feel the same curiosity as to you:
first, a brave lady waiting in the night on the dead and the
living "
" Oh, it is easy to do anything when one is excited."
" Is it ? So much the better ; and then "
" And then a silly girl, I suppose, taking for granted that you
must needs be a sailor a man before the mast and also afraid
to look at a burn."
" Having previously declared that she should not be afraid to
bear it."
" I think so still."
" And then reading Greek ; and now "
I was looking at the fly-leaf. Yes, it was as I had expected :
there stood the name " Giles Brandon ! "
" I hope my name does not displease you," said my patient
quietly.
It pleased me at my very heart ; but I did not say anything,
only laid the book down again, and went to the berth of one of
the children who had just awoke.
The little three-year-old cherub had not forgotten her " ban-
yan " days, and, holding out her chubby arms, said, " Oh, please,
I want some pudding."
I wrapped her in a shawl, and took her into the chief cabin,
where were Tom and my uncle ; and while we sent Brand to
fetch her some dinner, I said, " Why did you not tell me that
was Mr. Brandon ? "
" How could I suppose you did not know it ? " was his not
unnatural answer. As he spoke, he was admiring the child's
rosy little foot, holding it in his hand.
"I shall have to change berths with you to-night," he pre-
OFF THE SKELLTGS. 117
gently said. " Of all things I dislike being near people when
they are ilL"
" I do not mind it in the least. I wish to be able to attend
on them."
" Oh, Brand must do all that to-night," said Tom ; " and if
you can do it in the day, well and good. I couldn't "
" Pooh ! " said my uncle, mistaking the drift of our words.
" I am very glad that Dorothea is not lackadaisical. If this Mr.
Brandon were a young man, there might be some excuse, but he
looks old enough to be her father."
" His face is scorched and swollen," said Tom, " but I do not
think he can be more than forty."
Some cold rice-pudding now appeared, and my little darling
made with hands and tongue demonstrations of ecstasy. I
began to feed her, and in the midst of the meal Mrs. Brand
appeared with a frock, made of part of a gown which I had
given her in the morning to cut up for the children.
She had been very diligent.
"It is all cobbled up, ma'am," she said, " and so is the petti-
coat ; but they will do for the present."
Brand now entered with a roast chicken, bread-sauce, and
green peas ; and Mrs. Brand fetched the other child, who was very
cross and hard to please, did not want to be dressed, did not
want any dinner, did not think the chief cabin was at all a
pretty place no, and did not mean to be good.
The roasted chicken, &c, were intended for Mr. Brandon, and
Tom volunteered to go and give him his dinner, Brand following
with the tray, and my uncle marching in brimful of hospitality,
and probably bent on making his guest eat and drink more than
was good for him.
"It's the queerest thing I ever knew, ma'am," said Mrs.
Brand, " that our name should be Brand and the gentleman's
name Brandon."
I admitted that it was odd, but it had not struck me before ;
and we were soon fully occupied with the children, my little
pudding-eater beginning to cry because her sister did, and both
fretting and pining all the time we were dressing them.
Their new pink frocks pleased them, however *, and tiaa s^ds^
after due peisuasion, ate a little piece of bread and marcaatadfc,,
Il8 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
I was bent on making them look nice to please my uncle ;
their wet shoes had been dried and blacked, their little socks,
washed, and their hair carefully brushed, it hung down straight
and silky over their cherub cheeks; but, though they looked
rosy, they were still fatigued and listless, and at last, as nothing
pleased them it rained so that they could not go on deck I
let the elder go back to her berth with Mrs. Brand, and kept the
little one, thinking to manage her by myself. But I was de-
ceived : no sooner was the elder child withdrawn than this little
thing broke forth afresh into the most dismal wailing.
"Oh, I want to go too! Oh, I want to go to my Mr.
Bd/ndon/ Oh, I do, I do, I do ! I don't like this place at
alL"
I was soon obliged to promise that as soon as she was good
she should go ; thereupon came a smothering of the sobs, and
the prompt assurance, " I are good."
So I took her up and joined the assemblage in my cabin,
where I found my uncle chatting to Mr. Brandon, while Tom
carved for him, and Mrs. Brand sat in a corner nursing the elder
child, who was gradually sobbing herself to sleep.
More rest and more food had restored the voice which was so
hoarse before; it was now deep and decided, but like many
another man who is fond of children, Mr. Brandon could soften
his tones when he spoke to them, and make them caressing and
tender.
I held my pretty little tyrant in my arms, and she intimated
that it was her pleasure to go and look at " her Mr. Bandon,"
so I took her up to his berth ; and she gazed at him for awhile,
saying, with a sage gravity
" He's got a very ugly face to-day ; it's all over scratches."
An ugly face every day, I thought, as I looked at it, though
no doubt the singeing of the hair and whiskers, and a bruise
across the bridge of the nose, had not improved it.
"I want to kiss he," were her next words, so I put her
dimpled cheek down to his face.
" I thought I heard somebody cry," said Mr. Brandon.
" That was me I did cry."
" What did you cry for % "
"Because I did." There must toe some, inherent reason in
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 119
human nature to account for this answer : all children give it.
I wonder what equivalent for it French children have.
She continued to gaze at him till I thought I had stood there
long enough, so I bribed her with the promise of some pictures
to come away ; but even then she would not leave the cabin ;
she must stay, she said, and take care of Mr. Brandon ; so the
dinner being now cleared away, I retired, and left her there
under the charge of Mrs. Brand.
The sea-sickness, though it was quite gone, had, of course, left
me rather weak; so I was not sorry to find the chief cabin
empty; and I took a couch and sat down, to think over the
events of the last few days and hours.
The rain had ceased ; I did not care to go on deck, but sat
there reflecting till the natural consequence followed : I again
fell asleep and dozed deliciously, till a sudden clatter of footsteps
startled me, and Tom came in, crying out, " Come, Dorothea,
come ; your laziness astonishes me. Don't you want to see the
Great Skellig?"
Of course I rushed on deck. The Great Skellig ! I had seen
a picture of a rock a hard material thing ; I had read descrip-
tions of its geological strata; I knew it was a thousand feet high
but was this the Great Skellig ? I stood amazed ; there was
a pale glassy sea, an empty sky, and right ahead of us, in the
desert waters, floated and seemed to swim a towering spire of a
faint rosy hue, and looking as if, though it was a mile off, its
sharp pinnacle shot up into the very sky.
The " westernmost point of British land, and out of sight of
the coast," was this that cruel rock on which the raging waves
had driven such countless wrecks, and pounded them to pieces
on its slippery sides ?
A boat was lowered. Tom was going to row round it, though
he said that, calm as the water was, it was still not quite safe to
land. To my delight, he volunteered to take me with him ; so
I sent for my hat and cloak, and we rowed towards the great
rock in the glorious afternoon sunshine.
How often have I been disappointed in the outline of hills
and mountains : they seldom appear steep enough to satisfy the
expectation that fancy has raised.
Here there was no disappointment. The Grcak Sk^A^^hsk
120 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
up perpendicularly from the sea not an inch of shore, the clear
water lapping round it was not soiled by the least bit of gravel or
sand. As we drew near, its hue changed ; a delicate green down
seemed to grow on it here and there. I sat in the boat and
looked up, till at last its towering ledges hung almost over us,
and its grand solitary head was lost, and the dark base showed
itself in all its inaccessible bareness.
CHAPTER XIL
" Hermionb. By this we gather
You have tripped since.
Polucenes. O my most sacred lady,
Temptations have since then been born to us."
Dinner was ready when we reached the yacht, and while we
dined Uncle Rollin told us he had changed several of his plans,
for he had been talking with Mr. Brandon, who had told him
that as the children now on board had no one at all to look after
them, he did not intend to lose sight of them till they reached
their destination.
They were to go to their grandmother, an old French lady
who lived at Chartres.
" So," said our kind uncle, " I have offered to take him and
them into Havre, and that will facilitate matters very much."
Tom and I looked at one another on hearing this, and for once
he caught us doing it.
" I shall not stop a day longer at Havre than I can help," he
remarked. Neither of us said a word ; but I knew very well
that Tom would like to have a few days to spend in the north
of France. He was familiar enough with the ends of the earth,
and had spent years in cruising about on the west coast of South
America and in the China seas, but, excepting once when there
had been a few months spent in the Mediterranean, and that
was in his boyhood, he had never set his foot on the shore of
France.
There is nothing more ridiculous tlam \S\a wkLotl fashion of
a
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 1 21
lacing through a foreign country, and then fancying you know
all about it," said Uncle Rollin. " Butter, Brand."
Still silence.
" Cheese," said my uncle, raising his voice ; " you can't stir a
step beyond a French seaport without a passport. In fact, so
long as I am the owner of this yacht, I shall never lie in harbour,
waiting till it is your ahem ! till it is other people's pleasure to
come on board. Nobody takes any cheese, it appears. Clear
away."
His voice had been rising at every sentence he spoke, and the
moment he had said grace he marched on deck without waiting
for his wine. Tom went into my cabin to sit by Mr. Brandon,
and as there was a good deal of work to be done for the chil-
dren, I remained where I was and began to stitch. Presently,
down came Uncle Eollin again.
" Well, Miss Graham, you seem very much at home."
" I thought you would not object to my working here, uncle,
because you know the after-cabin is occupied."
" Modest ! why don't you say * my cabin.' No, I don't object ;
but now, understand this, if you think I am going to wait
your pleasure while you run about in Normandy "
" Indeed I never did think so, uncle ; how could I run about
there by myself ? "
"By yourself! the presumption of some young people is
astonishing ! Then I suppose you expected me to escort you ? "
I really was too much surprised to answer. "When I had said
" by myself," I had only wished him to think of me apart from
Tom, whose cause I did not want to damage.
" Why don't you speak, Miss Graham ? I know you have an
, answer on the tip of your tongue."
" I know I have presumed sometimes," I answered, unable to
repress a smile; "but really, uncle, I never thought of that
piece of presumption. If I had "
" Well, if you had ; go on, go on, I say."
" I had much better not."
" Then you should not have begun. Since you got over your
sea-sickness you are more demure than ever; go on nobody
knows better than I whether you presume. I hate m^^Wv^ \
6peak out if you had what "
122 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
"If I had, perhaps you would have rewarded me for it ; you
always do."
" Rewarded ! what do you mean, child ? Do you mean to say
that I encourage you and Tom in presuming, and let you have
your own way ? "
" Yes, uncle, I think you do."
I felt a little alarmed when I had been compelled by ques-
tioning to give this direct answer, and I went on as fast as I
could with my work.
" If a man ought to command anywhere it is on board his
own yacht. And here am I, told to my face, that I am encour-
aging mutiny. Well, Brandon shall go to Chartres* because I
said he should."
"Yes, uncle, and I shall stay behind because you said I
should."
" Humph ! Well, there was one thing that I prided myself
on ; only one and it was . Pooh, child ; what am I to kiss
you for ? a foolish custom stuffy nonsense. What do you want,
coaxing a man in this way! what do you want, hey?"
" Shall I have what I want ? "
" I'll see about it."
" Then I want to stop with you in the dock at Havre."
" You do, do you ? " (a short laugh). " I won't be lectured in
this style for nothing. If it is more convenient to me that you
should go to Chartres, go you shall."
" But you said you would see about it ? "
He laughed ; but I did not understand the cause of his grati-
fication till afterwards, and went on, " I am very happy on board,
I could not be happier than with you."
" Ahem ! " he said, " if I don't assert some sort of authority
now, I may as well give it up at once and for ever. So I say,
go to Chartres you shall. I've set my mind on it, and I expect
you to be content."
" Very well, uncle, Til try."
"You will; nobody to see your grave little face would
imagine What are you folding your work up for ? "
" It makes my head ache to work down here."
" Go on deck, then, and take the air ; you may give me a
kiss, if you like, first."
OFF THE SKELLIG& 1 23
I went on deck, and about tea-time came below. As I reached
the open door of my own cabin, I took off my hat and shawl
and gave them to. Mrs. Brand, desiring her to fetch me out my
work, and as I waited these words fell on my ear
" So, as they have set their minds on it, go they must ; young
people, you know young people contrive to get the better of an
old man like me." He spoke as if this profession of slavery was
made with great pride and self-gratulation.
A voice from the berth remarked in reply on his great kind-
ness and indulgence.
" Indulgent," was the reply, " well, perhaps I am. At any
rate, I never deny them anything. Ask my niece if I do."
He had evidently come out, to his own apprehension, in a new
character that of the indulgent uncle. He had been quite
unconscious hitherto of the manner in which he gave way to
Tom and me; and now it was forced on his notice, he was
highly gratified, and even fussy. " Yes, yes," he said, " I sup-
pose they will expect me to lie at Southampton Pier while they
get their passports."
That night we took coffee in the after-cabin with Mr. Brandon,
who, although he could not lift up his head, declared that he
felt much better. We then went on deck once more in the
dusk, saw the dim outline of the Great Skellig, with the two
lights on its summit looking like two great eyes in the head of
some rampant monster. I went early to my new berth, and
did not wake in the morning till Mrs. Brand came to call me.
" Mr. Tom says you must dress as fast as you can, miss, for it
is calm, and he is going to land on the Lesser Eock. Some of
the sailors have been there already. You never saw such a sight
it is covered with white ducks as thick as snow along the
ledges."
I started up, and made inquiries about Mr. Brandon and the
children. They had slept perfectly well, she said. Mr. Bran-
don had eaten a hearty breakfast, and now called for shaving-
water.
" Much use he found he could make of it," she continued,
with a dismal sigh. " That arm of his is so free from pain that
I should not wonder if it has begun to mortify i "ELcph^n^ \.
told him that Brand always shaved masteT, and. \ifc SK!J* \a
124 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
should be glad of his help ; so I called him, and he is going to
get him up."
" What for ? He had much better lie stilL"
" He won't, ma'am. His shoulders are much better ; and he
is so shocked at your being turned out of your cabin."
" What nonsense ! I wish I had known."
" He can't abide the confinement either gentlemen never can.
He wants to be on deck ; so he has got some clothes of Mr,
Graham's and a loose overcoat, and get up he says he will.
Called for a looking-glass he did, and when he saw himself he
laughed till the tears ran down his face. One of his cheeks is
a good deal swelled, and he has some blisters on his forehead
yet. I think he's hoarser than ever this morning he croaks
like a raven."
I could not do anything in the matter but say to Mrs. Brand
how glad I should be if he could be comfortable where he was.
So she went away, and I was nearly ready to come on deck,
when she burst in again to the little state-room, pale and staring.
" Oh, Miss Graham ! Oh, my heart beats so ! Bless me.
Mr. Brandon he would get up, and he has fainted ! "
I had seen Mrs. Bell faint too often to be alarmed at this
news. I had a bottle of salts that I bought at Ipswich to use
at church when I felt sleepy, so I rushed to the scene of action
to find it ; and there I saw the two children sitting up in their
berths wailing, and Mr. Brandon lying flat on his back on the
floor, with Tom and Brand on one side of him, and my uncle on
the other. A large basket of spotted eggs stood on the floor,
and round about the patient and over him sprawled several
awkward-looking ducklings. Each child was hugging one, and
a third was spreading out its skinny web feet on the pillow that
he had laid his head on.
I pushed my way past them to find my keys, and open the
locker where these salts were kept, and when they were dis-
covered, Mr. Brandon had begun to recover consciousness, and
was sitting upon the floor, Tom and Brand supporting him. His
lips were blue, his face yellow, and he looked so different from
the crimson-hued patient of yesterday, that I should not have
recognised him.
The rst words he uttered were "wox^a oi t^^lqtl against his
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 125
nurses. " Take the odious stuff away ! " So, finding that he
did not like the salts, I dipped a handkerchief in cold water, and
laid it on his forehead, whereupon he opened his eyes and
shivered, looking about him with an air of disgust and astonish-
ment.
" This," he presently observed with the true perversity of a
sick man, as distinguished from a sick woman " this is entirely
because I did not go on deck quickly enough."
" Sir, you had not strength to get up at all," remarked Mrs.
Brand.
" If I could breathe the fresh air I should be well enough.
Nothing pulls a man down like lying in bed."
When he had absolutely the day before been unable to lift
his head from the pillow !
" You'd much better lie down again, sir."
" No ; I must shake this off. It won't do to yield to it"
" Do wait, sir, for a little while."
" What is the use of arguing t" said L "If Mr. Brandon can
go on deck, it will do him good."
" Yea, exactly so ; that is what I intend."
" And if he finds he cannot he is quite safe here."
" There is no doubt that I can do it."
I was almost sure he could not, but Tom said there was no
harm in trying, so he presently made another effort to rise and
stand on his feet, which with a good deal of help he accom-
plished.
I was so much afraid he would fall that I did not dare to look
till he had dragged himself out of my cabin, and by the aid of
a few pulls and a few pushes had actually got on deck.
So feeling sure that he would not be able to sit up long, I
rolled up the mattress and pillows belonging to one of the berths,
gave it to Mrs. Brand to take on deck, and followed with two
railway rugs. I told her to lay them down very near where he
was sitting, and I spread one of the rugs over them.
Bravely as he had struggled, and strong as he thought
himself, a glance of unmistakable contentment shone in his
eyes when he saw these preparations. He was chilly, though
the morning was fine ; and when I had arranged his pillows.* he
came and thankful!/ laid himaeU down, uttering & tqrrk\& &
126 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
satisfaction when the second rug was thrown over his shoulders.
I sent Mrs. Brand for another pillow, and he said
" This is very comfortable ; I am grateful for such kind con-
sideration. The air does me good."
" I hope you will not be the worse for this removal"
" My nurse is grave this morning she disapproves."
" I heard that your chief reason for rising was that you could
not intrude longer in my cabin."
A smile glimmered in his eyes. "A natural feeling," he
answered, " and on the whole laudable."
No one was standing near him but myself, the air lifted his
rug, and I had to kneel down and tuck it under his mattress ;
while so occupied I said, " I wonder what Paul would have done
in such a case; I wonder whether the Primitive Christians risked
their health out of politeness to ladies."
" In my opinion if Paul could have seen a grave, quiet young
lady of the present century tucking a sick man up, and lecturing
him, he would have been edified as I am."
" And what would he have thought of the sick man ? "
"Miss Graham, ninety-nine men out of a hundred would
reply, ' He would have envied him ; ' I shall answer nothing of
the sort."
"You mean that you shall answer more to the pur-
pose ? "
" And how do you feel yourself now, sir ? " asked Mrs. Brand,
coming up and putting on a dismal face.
" Thank you, I feel quite comfortable, and very hungry."
In fact his face had regained its old hue ; his eyes were bright,
and his whole appearance showed how much the air had re-
freshed him.
Lest he should feel faint again, I asked Mrs. Brand not to
lose sight of him, and went below to breakfast to order some-
thing to eat for him, and to look after my dear little pets.
The elder child was still fretful and very unfriendly ; but the
little one was perfectly sociable and came on deck after breakfast.
At first she was very active, and put me in constant fear lest she
should get into danger ; but after a good deal of persuasion from
Mr. Brandon, she came and sat on the corner of his rug and
listened to some expostulations as to her behaviour.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 1 27
Tom had caused a carpet to be spread close to the mattress ;
and the awning was up, for the sun was now hot. I took out
my hook and sat down under it by my little charge, glad to rest
so long as she would let me.
A good many of the forlorn lumps of down had been brought
to Mr. Brandon in a basket, and he and Tom were feeding them
with bits of raw fish. Tom had explored the Lesser Skellig and
was tired of it ; but some of the sailors had been allowed to land
and were plundering a few of the nests. It seemed cruel to
take the poor birds, but sailors are very wasteful of animal life,
and we heard that they were going to make a large mallard
pie.
It was perfectly calm, not a ripple on the water, and the yacht
lay so near the rock that its shadow reached to within a few
cables' length of her lee beam.
The sun beat on the awning, but there was a golden-hued
shade beneath. I could see the lower ledges of the rock where
the brooding mallards sat. Sometimes, when the sailors roused
them, a flock would fly screaming over our heads.
My little nurseling crept to my knees as I sat on the carpet,
laid her head on them and fell fast asleep ; the conversation of
Tom and Mr. Brandon was so very uninteresting that I only
listened to it, as it were, with one ear. It concerned square,
circular, and elliptical sterns. Tom was eloquent, our guest
attentive. From this the subject veered to the different modes
of securing beam ends to the sides of ships, and Tom brought
a book and showed some diagrams trying to make him decide on
the comparative merits of a modern " side-cast knee " and " SCO-
ping's forked knee and chock." I knew he had brought the
discussion on himself, but he did not quite care to give his mind
to it, and as he chose to import me into it, I forthwith selected
the " side-cast " thing because it looked the simplest, but there-
upon an explanation was begun, which proved to such as could
understand that the latter of the two was preferable.
Then while I had a fit of inattention, or rather of rapt admira-
tion of the golden shadow, the white flapping canvas, the de-
lightful, pale polish of the water, and the strange, populous rock
with foolish ducks standing or squatting in rows on every led^
they began to talk of their travels, and Tom, wh.o co\Ml \ka.T^j
128 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
ever converse with me of anything but passing things and mere
facts, brought out his opinions freely enough now he had a man
to talk to.
Once or twice I had spoken of our childhood, but it seemed
to give him pain. "You may think of these things gladly
enough," he said, " but I seem to have set a long night between
myself and the beautiful morning. Sometimes I can hardly
bear to think of that great promise which has come to nothing."
I knew he was speaking of his early genius then, and ventured
to propose that he should give up his desultory ways and study
with me, teaching me as he had formerly done, but he laughed
rather bitterly and answered, " No, my dear child, I would fain
hope that you will never learn anything more of me."
He was always most prudishly careful what he said before
me : but he had a sort of admiring, and yet slighting way of
mentioning women, and especially the Mexican women, that
always made my heart ache. I wished he could have spent his
early youth with women of finer nature and higher soul. But
while I was mourning over this in my mind, and thinking on
the singular kind of watch that he seemed to keep over me as
if I was not infinitely better able to take care of my feminine
dignity than he was, Mr. Brandon, who had just come from the
States, began to talk of them, and I was attracted again to the
conversation by his saying of the American girls, " They often
reminded me of a woman in a book."
" How so 1 " said Tom.
" They held set conversations and expected me to keep to the
point," he answered, laughing.
" Ah ! " said Tom, in a somewhat oracular manner, " I do not
know why a girl should be expected to talk well till she is at
least twenty. There cannot be much in her ; she may be prettily
exacting or charmingly modest, but her attractions must be per-
sonal, not intellectual."
" But a girl in a book can talk well at any age, you think," I
remarked to our guest.
" She always does," he replied ; " and girlhood in a tale is
often represented as the embodiment of self-possession, combined
with a grand calm, and a wide experience which," he added,
and hesitated a little " which I have never met with in real
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 129
life, and I am very glad of it ! I presume to prefer the real
thing."
He said this as if he perceived that I found my youth,
or rather my youthful appearance, what Mrs. Bell was in the
habit of calling " a dispensation " something painful that was
ordained, and could not he escaped. But I believe I only
thought this, because I was sensitive on the point myself. I
had hoped that the tan of the sea would make me look older ;
but, on the contrary, it gave a little bloom to my cheeks, which,
though becoming, did not age me by a day. I took up the little
book of directions, by which I was tatting a collar, and occupied
myself with it while they went on talking. It was a time of
profound peace, and yet they tortured my heart by all sorts of
gloomy prognostics, such as I frequently read in newspapers, but
had not yet heard discusse4 by the living voice. Then they
turned to home politics, and there, of course, everything was
going to rack, for their party was not in. As girls are not able
to converse, I had not intended to have anything further to say ;
but at last they got so very lugubrious, that I was impelled to
exdaim, turning to Mr. Brandon
'* You speak as if freedom was some great anomaly."
" So it is," he answered quietly, but with an air of full con-
viction.
" And almost certain to be snatched away ? "
" So I think."
" But why ? "
" Because intelligence does not keep pace with it ; the com-
mon notion of freedom is leave to each individual to do just as
he likes."
" And does not everybody think that desirable ? "
" Am I obliged to think as everybody thinks mayn't I be*^
original ? "
" I am not at all sure that you may ! "
" That's right, Dolly," said Tom ; " what a tyrant you would
be if you might reign."
" I assure you that I admire liberty," said Mr. Brandon, laugh-
ing. " I wish that we should all have as much as we know what
to do with. What we were both saying that we hated was that
individualism which too much personal liberty is opt to "YeaA. to,
1
130 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and which tends to bring in the loss of national liberty and
power. People ought to be able to think of themselves as part
of some great whole, and they are losing the ability to do so."
" It is better, you think, to feel ourselves to be part of some-
thing great than the whole of something small ? "
" Certainly ; the secular use of a Church and one great use of
a Government is to give this feeling, and prevent society from
breaking up its units."
" Still you make me feel as if nothing was secure."
" Could there be a better feeling if things are insecure ? "
" No ; but suppose they are not, and suppose I think so ? "
" Why, then no harm is done ; you will not sleep less sweetly
for other people's talk ; you will take just as much pains in
working this little collar as if I had not said a word."
" But so she would," said Tom, rising and laughing, " if she
believed it all and knew it was true."
They would not talk seriously, so I answered
"In my opinion, men are quite as particular about their
collars and their neck-ties as we are."
" I am," said Tom ; " but then, in spite of all we have said,
I believe the country will come right in the end. If I did not,
you should see what a figure I would go."
" And you need not look at my neck-tie, Miss Graham ; it
but ill represents my feelings. The captain's valet tied this
killing knot."
" Well, Mr. Brandon, I will not judge you by to-day ; but if
you can assure me that when you do your ties yourself you are
quite indifferent how they look, I will believe you."
" And think me a patriot ? "
" Yes ; or else that you are untidy."
At this moment the boatswain came and touched his hat to
Tom. " Tide's just on the turn, sir."
" I must go, Brandon," said Tom. " I want to see the light-
house, and this is the best time." He went below to take some
luncheon, and our guest said
" What is it that displeases you so much in our politics, Miss
Graham 1 "
I answered, " It was not so much what you said about politics
as what you alluded to about religion."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 131
" I did not say that I thought our religion was in danger."
" No ; but you would not have said what you did unless you
had thought so."
A smile of amusement played about the corners of his mouth.
"The inference is fair," he said; "and may I ask what you
think?"
I began to think that I did not know what to do with this
conversation ; but I had brought it on myself, and I could not
stir, for the child's head was on my lap, and she still slept
soundly. It was not so much because he had said that girls
could not talk, however, that I felt a difficulty in answering.
It was more because he did not look quite the same man that
he had appeared to be hitherto. The red face had become of a
more natural colour, and the swelled nose was now of a very
respectable shape. I began to perceive, besides, not only by his
looks, but by his whole manner, that he could not be nearly so
old a man as I had thought.
I went on working, and there was silence ; till, at last, looking
up, I saw that his eyes were on my face ; so I said, " It seems to
me that if things are firm and settled and fixed, one should not
discuss them as if they were not, because that is one way of
unsettling them."
" What," he answered, " if I set my back against a church-
wall and push, and say, ' I don't believe this wall is firm ; ' will
my action make the wall come down unless my opinion is
correct ? "
" No ; but I want Tom to think of the church walls as strong,
because his religion consists in going inside them now and then.
As he said himself the other day, his presenting himself there is
as much as to say, ' Here I am, your reverence ; if you can do
anything for me, now's your time. , That he thinks is enough."
"But he is to respect the church walls, is he not, because
there is something inside them ? "
" Yes."
"I wanted to remind him of that. I said the form only
existed for the sake of the spirit. It is the visible part of
religion ; but surely it has no significance if there is no spirit.
Afterwards, you know, he shifted his ground a little"
" Yes, dear fellow; he did not wish you to ftanVL \Jaa.V \va
132 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
accepted what lie calls the whole system of dogma, and he
remarked that the tendency of modern thought was towards
freeing the mind from the bonds of dogma and form."
" And so then I shifted my ground, and tried to show him
what a terrible mistake he was making against himself, if he
made his religion to consist in form, and yet argued that it was
not binding on him ! A true man never wants to be freed from
a binding form for any other reason than that he may yield
himself more fully to the spirit."
" Still, " I said, reverting to the cause of my discontent, " I
wish you had contradicted him when he said that the Church
was in danger."
"I could not. A visible church is always in danger; the
invisible only is Immortal, like its Head."
"I sympathise very much with Tom," was my answer,
" though I never had any difficulties myself."
" Of course not," he answered gently ; " Christianity always
suits us well enough so long as we suit it. A mere mental
difficulty is not hard to deal with. Did you see the ducks
yesterday sitting by their thousands, every one with her f aee to
the wind, so that it blew all their f eathers the right way. Their
work went on just as well in spite of the wind ; so will ours if
we face it. The difficulty that cannot be faced is of another
sort. It is not often a thought that makes religion void. With
most of us it is not reason makes faith hard, but life. A
great many people think of religion as if it was a game that they
had to play with an August Opponent a game at which both
could not win, and yet they actually think they can play it
unfairly. They want to cheat. But in that grand and awful
game, it cannot be said that either wins unless both do."
We all had luncheon in the chief cabin, and after that my
patient, with a little help, got on deck again; and when I
followed some time after, I found Mrs. Brand approaching him
with a huge nosegay, and the children with her, dragging a basket
of flowers between them.
Fresh flowers were luxuries belonging to the shore that my
uncle could never dispense with. Brand had orders on no occa-
sion to land without getting some, if he could; and he had been
scouring the country for these and fresh vegetables. They scented
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 133
the whole yacht, as she lay almost at rest on the water a
lovely little heap of sweet-williams, pinks, larkspurs, roses, and
ferns.
Mr. Brandon was so stiff that he could hardly turn on his
mattress ; and the children, in their eagerness to display their
flowers, overthrew their basket upon him, to the great scandal
of Mrs. Brand, who said they made him look like a cerpse
strewed all over for the burial They then sat by him, and began
to gather them up in their fat little hands.
" These have all tumbled out of their little house ! " exclaimed
Nannette, showing him a double pink whose petals had burst
the calyx. " Put them in again, will '00 ? "
" What a fool of a flower ! " he answered.
" Sir," said Mrs. Brand, in a low tone of remonstrance, " it's
one of the works of God."
" You don't think, do you," he replied, " that any flower came
first from the hands of its Maker, unable to bloom without split-
ting. This flower has been spoilt by the gardener's cultivation,
as they call it. The lovely wild flowers, you know, are the
flowers that God made."
"Here's another," said Frances: "all the little men have
jumped out."
Mr. Brandon asked for thread, and began to tie up the broken
flowers. " This comes," he observed, " from leaving these beau-
tiful things to half-educated men, who have a vulgar longing to
make them big, but no sense of grace or fitness."
" I have often thought how ugly the large modern rosebuds
are," I said. " Some of them before they begin to expand are
as large as walnuts, as heavy and almost as hard."
" Yes," he answered ; " if you took one by the stalk, you might
break a window with it."
" Still it is difficult to know where to stop. How can we tell
when a flower has reached the point when we should cease to
cultivate t "
" We may always be sure a flower has been over-cultivated if
it dies hard and has a dead body. What can be more unsightly
than the soppy, mouldy head of a doubly quilled dahlia ? The
more you double a wallflower, the more debased it becomes, gets
coarse, loses its scent, and when it dies has no notion vrtaak \& fo
134 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
with itself. But how lovely is the single passion-flower! It
does not die at all, but expands a pale splendour of blue and
green; and when it has looked long enough at the light, it
closes, shrinks back again into the green calyx, and, like another
bud, retires. Then the gum cystus, while her flowers are still
perfectly clean and fresh, sheds the petals; they drift away, and
in an hour or two are invisible. The iris retreats in the night,
and hides within the sheath after its one day of glory. Then
the new flower comes out at dawn, expands and beautifully
covers the place. When there is a litter, a tearing away of over-
ladened boughs, or an unsightly lump of decay in the garden, it
is a sign that we have not understood or respected the natures
we have been playing with."
All this while he held the flowers together with the hand he
could use, and little Frances tied in the petals with darning-
cotton.
" Here are some feather-hyacinths," I said ; " surely it is late
for them."
"No, ma'am," answered Mrs. Brand; "I have some below
that I bought a week ago at Weymouth. I went on shore there,
you know, to see the horsemanship and the dwarf."
" Yes, I remember."
" And the stout lady," she continued, with enthusiasm. " She
had a bunch of flowers in her belt; and Brand thought it would
be very interesting to have them ; so he said, if she would sell
them, he was quite agreeable to buy. They were sprinkled with
the sawdust of the circus, but quite fresh. FU fetch them up
for you to see."
" Fancy the desecration," said Mr. Brandon, as she retired
" the sawdust, the gas, the circus."
" She thinks no harm, but she would consider it wrong to talk
of vulgar flowers."
" Yes ; but taking flowers into a circus seems to me much the
same as if Solomon had used the sacred anointing oil that was
left after his consecration to grease his chariot wheels with.
Look, Frances, here is a heart's-ease. Do you see its beautiful
little face ? "
" It's laughing at me," said the child, looking earnestly at the
Sower. "Xiss it, then, Nannette."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 135
" Is it happy ? " asked Nannette.
"Oh, yes, and very good. What sympathy children have
with nature ! till education clouds it. How distinct the little
face is in this flower, as if when the first heart's-ease was
fashioned there had been a thought in the heart of the great
Maker of the first child's face that should look into it ages after.
Flowers always seem to me to be the lovely fancies of God
things that, as it were, He made for His own pleasure for Him-
self, as well as for us."
" Surely you impute to God our feelings."
"Why not? We feel His great difference only too well.
Every year God becomes more marvellous and more remote. It
is the likeness that draws us to Him. It is surely "no irreve-
rence to say, since He has brought a sense of the beauty of His
work into our hearts, that He derives some splendid joy from it
also. Indeed the strange, sweet old words, ' God saw everything
that He had made, and behold it was very good,' seem to point
almost to the majestic movement of a tender pride."
I left the children after this, going below to Uncle Rollin, to
take my second lesson in navigation. He advised me to write
up my log. I had made two entries, and he commended me,
and expressed his satisfaction about things in general He had
not found me such a trouble as he expected ; in short, he might
as well say (for it was true) that he had not found me any trouble
at all.
This was very agreeable news ; and it was nice to know also
that a slight breeze had sprung up, so that we could get away
from the Skelligs. I did not like being too near those awful
rocks. When the red sunset glowed upon them that evening,
they had a most strange and weird appearance ; they seemed to
be half smothered in a red haze, and to sit up in the water like
two great dogs threatening us. The wind continued to freshen,
and I, finding myself perfectly well, began to consider that the
life suited me.
136 OFF THE SKELLIG8.
CHAPTER XIIL
The wind continued to be quite in our favour, and that day And
the next passed very pleasantly; but I found so much to do
for the children that I could not be long on deck, excepting
when they were brought up to take some exercise.
Sometimes the little creatures chose to come and sit by the
mattress, and tell Mr. Brandon concerning their various new
clothes and of the toy-ships and boats that continually came
from the people as offerings. Nannette generally walked about
with a brig in full sail under one arm, and a basket of ducklings
under the other. Frances had a pinafore full of little boats,
and when their masts were broken, she expected him to put
them in again.
He was an odd man, and as he gained strength a kind of sup-
pressed energy showed itself in his well-governed voice, and his
dancing, penetrating eyes looked more like independent live
things than features of his steady face. His other features were
well under command, and he had a clear, manly voice, very dif-
ferent in its tones from the soft depths of Tom's, but quitd aa
pleasant in its way, and as I moved about with my work, follow-
ing the children, I often heard every word of his part in the
dialogue, when Tom's was only a soft murmur of sound-
He was often fond of talking of the world as a whole, and the
land in it, as if one could dibble in men here and there, just as
in a garden one may dibble in vegetables.
He had been buying bits of land in various parts ; he " had a
family in his eye " that would just suit his last purchase, and he
used frequently to argue and dispute with Tom about the best
thing to be done for the English lower classes ; they alwayB differed
about almost everything, but yet they seemed never tired of
sharpening their wits against each other's notions.
Almsgiving, in his opinion, was, as at present conducted, a
mean, vulgar vice. The world ought to have done with alms-
giving long ago. " Beggars ! what's to be done with the beggars,
do you say 1 How dare we have any beggars ? "
He had taken out a man and his wife to the Pampas, he told
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 137
us, when he was only three-and-twenty. Then he went to Kio
and Bahia to amuse himself and look about him, promising them
that if they did not like the life before them when they had
tried it, he would fetch them back again. It appeared by the
story that they did not like it at least, the husband brought
the wife on board, and begged him to take them home again.
He admitted that this was the most awkward thing that had ever
happened to him, but when the steamer had got too far for any
remedy to be found, he discovered that the man had escaped and
gone back to Bosario, leaving the wife by her own connivance
on his hands*
"I took her to Southampton," he said, " and bribed her never
to show her face in our parts any more. Then I went home to
my stepfather, feeling very small"
" And were not ctired of that form of philanthropy ? " said
Tom.
"Certainly not; almsgiving is not open to me. If a man
thinks he wants half-a-crown, and I am base enough to give it
to him, instead of helping him to his inheritance that he really
does want, there is nothing bad that I do not deserve. I must
win his confidence, and, by fair means or by wholesome scold-
ing and driving, sweep him or buffet him for his own good out
of the country. Hang him ! why is he to be an absentee more
than an Irish landlord ? Drive the rascal to his estate, and let
him live on it."
"Hang him!" does not sound a particularly charitable or
gentle thing to say, yet this queer man said it with a softening
in his voice that was almost tender.
" There is no cant that I hate like the cant about resignation,"
he exclaimed the next day, after he had been telling us some
things about the London poor.
" Surely it is a Christian virtue," I remarked.
" Yes, I suppose there is such a virtue ; but it must be rare.
I never had any occasion to exercise it. I am not presumptuous
enough to think so."
" Indeed ! "
11 Most of the pain or misfortune that I have gone through
has been from my own fault. I have been repentant, and have.
tried to take the consequences as well as I conld. T\\fc t&V*
138 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" Well, the rest ? " said Tom.
" The rest I look upon as discipline that ought to make, and
is intended to make, a better man of me."
" And which of the two do yon consider this burn on your
arm to be ? "
" Neither. I consider that I bought a certain thing and paid
for it. I got it dirt cheap. Crayshaw and I went below to
fetch up the two children, but a rush of burning hot air came
after us, and we had to lie down with our mouths to the floor.
I wanted my child's head (Nannette's) to be close to the floor,
and yet not to touch it, because it was so dreadfully hot ; so I
put my arm under it, and of course got burnt, for I had to lean
my weight on it while I supported her with the other till I could
rise and run off."
" That was the first time you went below, then."
" Yes, I think so. The infant was in what had been the
mothers' cabin. She died when we had only been at sea two
days. The heat did not penetrate there so soon. The women
had brought out the two elder children and their clothes, and had
carried them to their own part of the ship, where they gave them
something to eat, and dressed them. They then put them into
the berths ready dressed, but all on a sudden we had to fetch
them up."
Nannette at this moment was brought on deck with a slice of
cake in her hand.
" Give me some of that," said Mr. Brandon, as Mrs. Brand set
her down. " I want some it looks so nice."
The child came close to him, and turning her cake round
looked at it, and hesitated. " There's a big cake down there,"
she observed.
" But I want some of yours," he insisted. " Do spare a little
bit for me." Whereupon she selected a particularly small plum,
which she picked out, and put into his mouth, saying, " There !
that's plenty."
"I am always charmed by the selfishness of childhood," said
Tom ; " it is quite touching in its pretty unconsciousness."
The little white-headed thing went on eating with great satis-
faction, but presently she noticed that my uncle, who had come
and seated himself close to us, was beckoning her with his finger,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 1 39
and she instantly got tip, and breaking off a good-sized piece of
her cake, held it out to him, saying, " Does '00 want a piece 1
here!"
44 Look," said Tom, as the old man took the child on his knee,
and they began to smile at one another, " you see he has won
what you could not earn."
" But they never love us," I said, " as we love them."
44 No ; it is always the same story ; they receive the love of
one generation and they pay it to another. That little creature
does not love Brandon any the more because he snatched her
out of the fire ; but twenty years hence, perhaps, she will love
some other child all the better for the sake of that dimly-remem-
bered day."
" My dear fellow," exclaimed Mr. Brandon, " she can have no
intelligent remembrance of it even now."
44 Nanny," said my uncle, who had heard the remark, " where's
the raft ? Who took care of Nanny on the raft ? "
The child pointed at Mr. Brandon with her finger. " He was
very naughty that other day," she said, shaking her head, " but
he's good now."
44 Naughty, was he ! I can hardly think it. Why, what did
he do?"
44 He wouldn't show me the ducks."
44 She means the cormorants," said Mr. Brandon. "Yes, I
believe it's a true bill ! In the dead calm we saw a few cormor-
ants feeding not far off. They sat so low in the water that every
little ripple passed over their backs. Only the head and neck
of each was visible, like the stalk and bud of a waterlily, or a
steam-vessel all under water excepting the funnel."
44 You noticed that at such a time ? " I inquired.
44 Yes. Crayshaw thought at first they were water-snakes.
We had often, of course, seen cormorants before, but we were
then so absolutely on a level with the water that they looked
differently. I leaned against the little mast, and held this thing
up to watch them, and no doubt I put her down sooner than
she liked."
44 How keenly, when the mind is strained, one observes all
sorts of unimportant things."
44 Yes, and their crowding in prevents the impoi\a\ onsk Itotssi
140 OFF THE SKELLIG8.
doing more than taking their torn. I never noticed so many
things in my life as daring that calm. The rare pale colours so
fickle and so tender, that bloomed across the water here and there,
the slightly raffled patches of desert, where a flaw of wind was
fainting away, and leaving it all sparkling like flocks of wings ;
outlandish drifts of sallow weed floating about, and seeming to
be attracted by oar raft"
" I am never so much alive as when I expect to die," said Tom.
" Yes, I was intensely alive then. I remember dreading to
think what a world of killing I should want before I could
give in !
" Don't, man," said my uncle, and then went on to Tom
" You were never in such danger in your life as when you crossed
under that ship's bows the other night"
" I did not feel it. Of course I should have felt the raft
What a bore it is, Brandon, that the dull, and uneducated, and
unimaginative, should possess a dogged contempt for danger,
and a kind of stupid fearlessness that we are never to have ! I
do not see how a highly imaginative man can hare much animal
courage."
" He has more resources," observed Mr. Brandon.
" And more pluck and daring," said Uncle Rollin. " What-
ever name you may give to his courage, it generally serves his
turn, boy ! "
" And," continued Tom, " not only does the highly organised
man perceive danger most keenly, but he feels pain most when the
blow comes, unless he is excited of course he cannot feel
either fear or pain then ; certainly not the fear of death."
" That is only because excitement takes us out of ourselves,"
said Mr. Brandon ; " makes us forget ourselves as individuals,
and become part of the company we are standing up with to
strive. The familiar fact that individuals fear death often makes
us take for granted that death is dreaded by the race. I do not
believe it is. It is regarded as the great conclusion which we feel
to be wanted. In fact, though death be an enemy, I believe the
human race instinctively feels that it could not do without it, so
long as it has crime, or even imperfection."
Uncle Rollin, when he said this, looked both surprised and
displeased as he went on
OFF THIS SKELLIOS. 1 41
"And even a* individuals of course, none of us would like
to die now, or Boon, or at any specified time, and yet, if we were
told to-day that we were all going to live for five hundred years,
I don't think we should like it We should get restless and
fretful, as children do if they pass the time when they should
Bleep."
" But," I said, " they scarcely ever like being put to bed."
" Any more than we do," said Tom ; " that may be less because
we fear to go to sleep, than because we know so little of the
predicted waking."
" I mean," continued Mr. Brandon, " that I think we wish for
more in life, rather than for more of it ; and that if it were to
contain no new elements, I do not think the human race (if it
might consider the question for itself as a whole), would care to
have it lengthened"
u I don't agree with you," said Tom.
" No," said Unci* Kollin, " nor I, if the proportions of youth and
age were to be the same as at present. Some people," he continued,
u are fond of making out that a future state is to be very like
this, only better, and that we are to have back again what we
have lost here. I don't agree to that, either. We want some-
thing better and different, not better and like."
" But we wish to see our dead again," I said.
" Ay, child ; but they did not satisfy us here why should
they there ? I consider that, for a permanent life, we want
many new powers, and I trust the Almighty that we shall have
them. One of them is the power to be unwearied by possession
and continuance."
He rose as he spoke, and, giving his finger to the child,
walked off with her and I followed. I thought he did not seem
to be in such good spirits as usual, so I proposed my usual remedy
a lesson in navigation. He fell into the trap directly ; and
for more than an hour we worked away together. Then we
came on deck, he to give some directions to the captain of the
yacht, and I to find Tom and Mr. Brandon arguing away as if
their lives depended on their decisions. It was delightful to see
Tom so animated, and I was charmed with our guest for making
him so.
A vehement dogmatical man he seemed, and \1i.q\x$x Y& \xcj
142 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
on his mattress with one arm in a sling, there was a fulness of
life and an enthusiasm of feeling about him which made hfm
appear more able-bodied than we did. He was prodigal of his
speech, did not save up his thoughts as if he expected them one
day to fail. He was not afraid to be fully alive now, lest he
might flag afterwards. With him it was always springtide and
full moon,
CHAPTER XIV.
"And 'tis sentiment kills me, says I."
Southampton ! My first view of it showed a gloomy background
of cloud with lines of angry red running between its thunderous
folds, and a dark foreground of old wall Roman wall, I was
informed. It looked as old as the hills, and almost as substan-
tial. A very shallow reach of water, that hardly covered the
green weed, lay between us and the pier, and derived an unquiet
beauty from the broken reflections of a long row of lamps just
being lighted on shore.
Tom and Mr. Brandon were about to push off when I came
on deck. They were going to London that night, partly about
passports, partly, I felt sure, that Mr. Brandon might have a
surgical opinion about his arm, and partly to call on an aunt of
the children's, an English lady, who lived in town, and might
wish to see them before they were taken to their grandmother.
The dear little creatures had travelled a good deal considering
their tender age. They had been born in England, their father
being a poor clergyman in the north of Yorkshire. Not quite a
year before their return orphans, he had accepted a chaplaincy
in the West Indies, but his health failing, after a very few
months, he had gone up to Charleston with his family to stay
with a French lady, a relation of his wife's, and there had died.
Mr. Brandon knew nothing about the circumstances of their
family; he was not even sure how their name was spelt ; but he
had an address in London, and had accepted the charge of them
from their mother.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 143
It was Saturday night Uncle Rollin and I spent a very quiet
Sunday, going on shore to church, and afterwards walking beside
the grand old walL
On Monday I did a vast amount of shopping ; but the very
next day after my purchases were made, my uncle, taking a walk
with me, stopped before one of the principal mercer's shops, and
after looking into the window attentively, beckoned out a young
man, and pointing at various things with his finger, said
" You'll be so good as to put up that for me, and that and
ikat"
"Won't you come inside, sir?" said the young man, who was
evidently surprised at his style of shopping.
" No," he answered, retreating a step or two. " I don't think
I will, thank you."
I gave Mrs. Brand, who was behind us with her husband, a
significant look, and she stepped forward.
" And 111 have that, too," said my uncle, pointing at a very
broad blue sash-ribbon that dangled in front of the other
things.
" Yes, but you only mean a sash of it, sir, and a dress-length
of the silk, and of the embroidered muslin, and that scarf," said
Mrs. Brand.
" Of course," he answered.
" Uncle, they are too expensive," I ventured to say.
"And what do you call that?" he continued to the master,
who had now come out.
" That's an opera-cloak, sir ; a very sweet thing."
" Well, and I'll have that, if you please. Good morning, sir.
This good friend of mine," indicating Mrs. Brand, " will tell you
where to send the things."
He then marched off with me.
" I know I shall repent this," he observed in a moment or
two.
" Dear uncle, pray, pray let us go back, then, and countermand
the order."
" Nonsense, child ! I meant that as we're going to France, I
might have done better to buy these things there."
" I know very well they are for me."
" Yes. Why didn't you say ' Thank you V "
144 OFF THE SKELLIOS.
( Because I am so afraid if you let me be such an expense to
you, it will make you dislike me. You must have spent twenty
pounds."
" But I only spent what I chose. You should take example
by me, and never go inside, and then you can get away whenever
you like."
Uncle Rollin and I were very happy together till three o'clock
on Wednesday, when, coming on board, we found Tom and Mr.
Brandon waiting for us on deck, and a lady who was introduced
to me as Miss Tott.
She remarked that she had come to see her nieces. I saw two
huge boxes with her name upon them, and wondered at the
amount of luggage she had brought, as we were to sail the
next day.
I took her to my cabin, where the children, arrayed in their
pink frocks, were playing about.
Miss Tott embraced them both, and wept over them copiously.
She was a pleasant-looking person, tall, very slender, head a little
on one side, drooping eyes, a long nose that projected rather
too far into space, a pensive, soothing voice, and a fine com-
plexion.
Little Frances stared at her, and escaped from her kisses as
quickly as possible ; Nannette regarded her with curiosity and
disfavour.
"My precious ones !" murmured Miss Tott. "I trust their
spirits are not utterly weighed down by these accumulated mis-
fortunes. It is indeed sad when the heart is wrung in in-
fancy."
" What is she crying for % " whispered Frances to me.
Suddenly she clasped her hands, and looked up exclaiming---
" They are in coloured dresses ah, me ! and what a colour
pink ! "
" Yes, ma'am," put in Mrs. Brand, who seemed struck with
admiration of this sensibility ; " we had nothing black for them
to wear when they came on board ; their own frocks were torn
to shreds, I do assure you."
" I hope this has not been an additional pang to their tender
hearts," continued Miss Tott. " You have explained to them,
doubtless, that there has been no intentional disrespect."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 145
She spoke to me, and, not without secret wonder, I replied
"They have not noticed it. . They are too young to feel
deeply; but I have heard them speak with affection of their
dear mamma and the baby."
Miss Tott dried her eyes and held out her hand to Nannette,
who drew back.
" This is little ETannette's aunt," I whispered. " Go to her."
The troublesome little creature instantly said aloud
" But hasn't she brought us something pretty from London ? "
That was because Mr. Brandon had promised each of them
a toy.
I pushed the chubby little thing nearer, and she shook back
her shining lengths of straight hair, and condescended to take
the hand presented to her.
" And so my little darling has no dear papa and mamma, and
no sweet baby sister, now % "
"It isn't a baby sister," lisped the child, softly; "it's my
little baby brother ; he's got two teeth."
"But he is gone now. Nannette has no baby brother now."
"Yes, I have."
" Is it possible that they are in ignorance of these things ? "
cried Miss Tott, " or are they devoid of feeling ? "
" Neither ; but they do not understand you."
" He did cry," said Nannette, with great simplicity, " when
he was on the raft."
" But he is very happy now," put in the other child. " Mr.
Brandon says he never cries at all ; God took him up to heaven."
" He likes to be up there," said Nannette.
Miss Tott looked scandalised at this infantile talk, but her
boxes now appearing, to my ill-concealed surprise, she said to
me
" Mr. Brandon proposed to take my dear little nieces to their
grandmamma, but I could not bear the thought that my little
desolate ones should go alone ; so I said I hoped it would be no
inconvenience to Captain Rollin if I accompanied them."
I thought he would very much dislike to have a lady pas-
senger, and I said nothing by way of encouragement.
" I see abundance of room," she presently a&tad, \octoxv^
round.
146 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" But not at my disposal," I answered.
" On, do not let that disturb you," she said very sweetly, and
with a soothing tone that I rather resented ; " your brother will
speak to Captain Rollin when he comes on board no respon-
sibility shall rest on you ; the gentlemen will do all ; and after the
captain's noble hospitality I have no anxious feelings about the
result ; so," she continued very softly, " would it be too much to
ask that I might be alone with the dear children for a short
time 1 "
I was rather glad to comply with her request, and went away
with the admiring Mrs. Brand, shutting Miss Tott in with the
children.
In the chief cabin I found Mr. Brandon and Tom, the former
marching about in a very impatient style; he was evidently
vexed and fretted.
They had been mildly and sweetly obliged by Miss Tott to
bring her and her luggage on board, and each being soothed and
assured that he should not have any unpleasant responsibility,
had been told what a relief it would be to " the captain " to find
that the children's best and nearest protector was ready to go
with them.
" And what did my uncle say ? " I asked.
" He pulled a long face, but he evidently means to submit.
If Graham would only have stood by me, you would have seen
a different result."
" Nothing of the sort," said Tom ; " you were quite as help-
less as I was, if not more so. She made us come and fetch her,
too, and her great chests ; and what with all your tailor's parcels
. and mine, and that great Noah's ark nearly as big as a child's
coffin (and some great woolly dogs that he bought too, Dorothea,
which barked in the parcel whenever we moved them), I never
went through so much with luggage in my life ! "
"Yes, I have been round the world with less," said Mr.
Brandon.
" So, here she is," proceeded Tom ; " she wants to persuade
the old grandmother that she ought to take the entire respon-
sibility of the children. Her father she says cannot afford it,
now their grandmother, who was brought up a French Protes-
tant, has lately become a Roman Catholic and Brandon natu-
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 147
rally hoped the children would be taken by the father's family
and brought up in the religion of their parents. But no, they
cannot afford it, they say."
A great deal of crying and scuffling at my cabin-door was now
heard : we looked at one another.
" Let them alone," said Tom ; " she has, no doubt, made the
children cry by some dismal talk. Now let her manage them
herself ; she has a right to be alone with her own nieces if she
like8. ,,
"You seem to forget, poor thing, that she has only heard
within the last day or two of the death of her sister-in-law;
really, I think she may be excused for being sorrowful."
" She took that matter very composedly," said Tom ; " she
even informed us that dear Fanchon had been a very bad
manager, and a Very bad match for her brother. In fact, we
thought she seemed to consider it a mark of the favour of Pro-
vidence towards herself that her sister-in-law had been taken."
The remainder of that day was not at all comfortable. Miss
Tott's tender regrets over the children always seemed to imply
reproof of somebody else, and as they took a great dislike to her,
I found it difficult to make them behave tolerably. When at
last they were put to bed, each insisted on taking her woolly
dog with her, and as long as they could possibly keep awake,
they made them bark at intervals. They had been well taken
care of during the voyage, but not kept in order, and consequently
they were troublesome. Mrs. Brand and I had not established
much control, and while one was being dressed, she would set
off and run round the cabin. Then the other would rebel in
some infantine fashion, poking her fingers into the pomatum or
spilling my Eau de Cologne. These things it would have been
ridiculous to treat as serious offences, but by dint of grave looks,
a little scolding, and a little coaxing, we got on pretty well, and
they would soon have been very good children, but they chanced
to be particularly full of spirits the first morning of their aunt's
presence, and when she found that nothing she could say had any
effect, she sat down in a corner and drooped, leaving Mrs. Brand
and me to catch and dress the little rebels. When these opera-
tions were over, I lectured them both very gravely, and received,
kisses in token of penitence, but Miss Tott conld no\ rewis&Vst
148 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
spirits, and from that hour she never did any anything for
them, and seemed instinctively to shrink from interfering in the
least.
She evidently knew nothing of children excepting from books.
She expected to find some ready-tamed little mortals, calm, and
rather depressed, instead of two chubby things, quite wild, un-
conscious of orphanhood, and mischievous, penitent, naughty
and good again every hour of the day.
To me they were the greatest amusement possible, and to Mrs.
Brand a delight that it did one good to see ; but they certainly
did not do themselves justice that morning.
Nannette talked at prayers, and had to be carried out crying.
Frances got away from Mrs. Brand while we were at breakfast,
and ran triumphantly into the chief cabin, where her rash act
was rewarded by Uncle Rollin, who gave her sausage and toast,
and afterwards carried her on deck, to the great scandal of her
aunt.
I had bought some black alpaca at Southampton, and after
breakfast Mrs. Brand and I set to work to cut out frocks for the
children that we might take them to their grandmother in mourn-
ing clothes ; and Mrs. Brand, cheerful and happy, in the prospect
of having almost more to do that day than she could possibly
accomplish, was such a pleasant companion, that I might have
stayed below another hour, if Tom had not come to remind me
that I had left Miss Tott to amuse herself as best she could,
which did not seem altogether polite.
My uncle was in the chief cabin reading the morning papers,
which had come in just before we sailed. I came on deck with
my work, and found Miss Tott with Mr. Brandon and Tom sit-
ting on deck-chairs under the awning. We were about ten
miles south of Southampton ; the sea was blue, the deep sky
empty and bare, the sun hot, the air delightful.
" A shame to shut out such a firmament, is it not ? " asked
Mr. Brandon.
I replied without considering, " I should think so, if it was
not absolutely empty and open."
" Indeed, and why ? "
" Oh ! because there is something so pathetic in those awful
deeps of empty blue something to iwc m t\\afc \*a\tm infini-
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 149
tode, with no islands up aloft, nothing that belongs to us ; only
God's great desert"
"You prefer to have some of it shut out; you want a tent
over your head even when you are out of doors ? "
"Yes, I like to feel enclosed and in my home; clouds are
very sublime no doubt, but not oppressively so."
Miss Tott on hearing this laid her hand on my arm, with an
air not quite of reproof, but rather of tender pity.
" And yet," she said, " we ought not to shrink from Nature
in her deeper sublimities ; Nature in the dark midnight sky, and
the green, surging billows nothing else can so well soothe the
wracked and burdened mind, and still the turbid passions of the
souL"
I had often heard people say this kind of thing, and read it
in books, but my narrow experience had not yet brought it
before me, and Miss Tott uttered her speech in a way that I
rebelled against a little. She seemed so much to feel the sweet-
ness and wisdom of her own words, and to fancy that she was
tenderly instilling so much truth into a hardened nature, that
instead of making any reply I felt an unworthy wish to shake off
her hand. However, I resisted this, and there it still lay, as if to
appeal to my better self ; my ordinary self being covered with
blushes because Tom and Mr. Brandon were looking at me. At
last, I said
" No doubt the beauty and grandeur of the world is very
invigorating, very elevating."
" You speak as of some abstract truth that you have nothing
to do with."
" Miss Graham speaks of what will not always bear discus-
sion," said Mr. Brandon, coming to the rescue; "her first words
showed rather an over-sensitiveness to the influence of the sub-
lime than the absence of it."
Miss Tott took no notice of him, but continued to gaze at me,
and keeping her hand on my arm oppressed me further by say-
ing with pensive compassion
" But is there no solace for the heart in communing with
Nature in her wilder moods, and coming to be healed by her
when your spirit is crushed ? "
The tender old words, "Is there no balm in G&ea&A" %sS&r&.
150 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
across my mind, and a thought of "the Physician there; " but
I was much too shy to put my thought into words, and answered
instead
" I don't exactly know ; I never am crushed."
" Ah ! " she replied withdrawing her hand, " you will be,
some day."
" Don't, Miss Graham," exclaimed Mr. Brandon. "I wouldn't,
if I were you."
I looked up ; he and Tom sat opposite, enjoying the dialogue,
but neither moved a muscle of his face ; and, to my discomfiture,
Miss Tott took up her crotchet, and murmured some low sen-
tence in which we distinguished the word " profane ; " but she
seemed to be more in sorrow than in anger, and as she worked
she handled the very needle with a tenderness that might have
shown us the depth of her compassion for us.
Tom and Mr. Brandon glanced at one another with eyes that
seemed to say, " We have got into a scrape," and presently, to
my surprise, Tom said in a tone of apparent feeling
" There is a sort of yearning after the infinite, a kind of a
brooding over the irrevocable past, looking as it were over the
vessel's side, to see the waves of existence pass slowly by,
which "
" Ah ! " exclaimed Miss Tott, interrupting him, " I thought
those speaking features could not have deceived me. I thought
there must be a heart with such a voice as that."
I knew, of course, that he was amusing himself at her expense,
but I am not sure whether Mr. Brandon did.
" I say, old fellow," he exclaimed, " that sort of thing seems
more like a dismal aggravation of the crushing process than a
remedy."
" It's one that I always use," persisted Tom.
" Ah ! " said Miss Tott again.
" Unless I'm crushed quite flat" continued Tom ; " and then I
find that nothing does me so much good as a bottle of soda-
water with with a little brandy in it ! What do you take,
Brandon ? "
" I am sick of the very word," said Mr. Brandon, with a short
laugh. " I shall answer with your sister that I never am crushed.;
I would rather be excused."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 151
" Oh ! but it's nonsense to struggle," said Tom, appealing to
Miss Tott with his eyes. " Yon must submit. "
" I won't," he repeated, coolly. " At least, not if I can pos-
sibly help it, and not for long together ; as long as I can speak
a word or wag a finger I won't admit that I'm crushed. It was
never intended that I should be. I hate the word. I hate the
feeling it describes. Trouble does not come by chance it is
sent to make us rise, not to make us sink."
"All right," said Tom; "but we were not talking of any
trouble worth mentioning ! I like to hear him fire up," he con-
tinued, audaciously looking at us.
Miss Tott opened wide her dark eyes.
" What is that ? " she exclaimed, very tartly.
" We were not talking of the troubles of widows and orphans,
you know, of pinching poverty and remorse for crime, or the
agonies of broken bones and carking care," said Tom, addressing
her with suave gravity. " We were talking of poetical yearn-
ings and general dissatisfaction, of dyspeptic nervousness, and
the discomfort of having nothing to do. I am sure I ought to
speak feelingly of these ills. No one is a greater martyr to them
than I am."
" It is very evident," said Miss Tott, with exceeding sharp-
ness, "that none of you have ever known any trouble worth
the name."
"Even if we have," I ventured to say, "surely the good has
outweighed the evil"
" What, in this world of sorrow ? " she answered. " You do
not know what you are talking of."
" I beg your pardon. I did not mean to vex you."
"I am not vexed; but your remark is contrary to reason,
religion, and experience."
" To experience, perhaps ; but is it contrary to religion 1 "
" Of course it is. Did not our Saviour say, c In this world
ye shall have tribulation ? ' "
"Yes; but perhaps He may have meant that His religion
would never exempt them from ordinary ills, nor from that envy
of the wicked which makes them sometimes persecute the
good."
I think He meant that they should be afflicted"
u
15* OFF THB SKKLUOS.
m i ii i
"But they knew that before," said Mr. Brandon. "They
knew that earth was not paradise. "
"Then you wish to prove that our Saviour's words meant
nothing."
" On the contrary : they were meant (among other things) to
inform the first disciples that in their day would come the worst
trouble that the world had ever known. And now it is over
now the Christian nations are richer, wiser, healthier, and
stronger than other people."
" What do you mean by other people ? "
" All but professed Christians."
Miss Tott was silent for a while, till seeming to remember a
point that would yield her some triumph, she turned to Mr.
Brandon and exclaimed
" Pray, did you feel inclined during the shipwreck to think
lightly of trouble, and to be as philosophical as you are to-day ? "
" I have often been in danger before," he answered.
" But what did you think ? "
This was rather an unkind cut, and I thought, considering the
circumstances, a little ungrateful. He was not willing to dis-
cuss the matter, so he tried to put her off by saying
" I thought what a number of bones there were in the human
frame."
" That was an odd reflection surely."
" Not at all, if most of them are bruised, and you have nothing
to lie on but planks and spars."
" And after that ? " she said, still questioning him as if for
his good, and to elicit some better feeling.
" Too much to be repeated easily. My Yankee friend and I
had a great deal to do ; but I believe we both felt very strongly
the sweetness of life."
" And what next ? " she continued, whereupon he gave way
to the pressure and replied
"I felt the baser part of my nature rising up within me;
thoughts so distinct that they seemed to come from without,
buzzed in my ears like wasps. They represented it as hard that
the presence of worn-out women and helpless children should
make my chance of life so much fainter ; hunger, wet, fatigue,
and pain, things that had stood aloof from me before, drew near,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 153
and made me feel their weight and power. They gnawed at my
heart and chilled my blood. "
" But I suppose you did not feel crushed ? " said Miss Tott,
in the clearest tones of her high-pitched voice.
He seemed to dislike this questioning exceedingly, and yet to
he determined to answer.
" No."
" What did you feel ? " she asked mildly.
" I felt that this world was utterly gone by, but that the other
world was not so near as it had often been in times of no danger
at alL It was not within our grasp ; there was something first
to be felt and to be seen but though all was lost and as yet
nothing gained, I believed it would be gained. After that there
came a time of forgetfulness I did not hear, or feel, or see
anything. ,,
" And all this while you were not overwhelmed ? "
" I did not expect to live after the first twenty-four hours,
because the pitching of the raft put us in such imminent danger,
but I did not despair."
" Ah ! well, we need not argue about the meaning of words ;
some of us are better able to bear distress than others ; indeed,
some of us feel it far less."
This was the very thing that I had anticipated when talk-
ing with him some days before, but he did not seem to remem-
ber it.
" Then the worst thing you felt when you became exhausted, "
she said, " was a kind of forgetfulness."
" Oh no, it was not ! " he exclaimed ; and such a look of
horror leapt out of his eyes as for the moment quite aston-
ished us.
He seemed to be collecting his thoughts.
" We had been lashed together," he said, " and I have some
6ort of recollection of going down and down an almost endless
flight of steps, and thinking that I must and would get to the
bottom before I died. After that came a terrible time, when I
seemed to be hemmed in by something intensely black, and an
awful thought pressed me down that I was dead, and it was
not what I had expected ! I felt sure I was dead, and I ap-
peared to go spinning on with that thought ioi ^eara"
154 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Curiosity got the better of Miss Tott here. She quite forgot
to point the obvious moral.
" Was that in the yacht ? " she said.
" I think it must have been, because of the steps ; besides, what
enabled me at last to struggle out of that blackness and honor
was the touch of something soft on my forehead. I gathered
sense by it to perceive that I was still in the body, and I opened
my eyes."
He paused, and a smile came over his face.
" I saw a vision," he said ; " I knew not what else it could
be, and I saw light."
" Indeed ! " exclaimed Miss Tott. Here was an experience
that just suited her. " What was the vision f "
" I saw a small hand a child's hand I thought it was at first,
and it appeared to hover before my face. There was something
bright in it, through which the light was shining. The child
the angel whatever it might be was leaning over me, but I
only saw the hand. It offered me bread, too ; but my senses
were so dim that I connected something sacramental with this
bread and wine, and would not touch it because my hands and
my lips were so begrimed. Then I went back into the black-
ness again and the hand floated away ; but a voice inexpressibly
sweet and pathetic appeared to be reasoning with me. I heard
the sound, but I could not understand the words; and, after
what seemed to be a mighty struggle, I got my eyes open, and
there was the hand again, and the long folds of a gown floated
down at my side."
" Was it very beautiful ? " said Miss Tott, in a tone of pleasure
and awe ; " was it in white ? "
"It was my sister, of course," exclaimed Tom; for he saw
that she was completely mystified. " It was Dorothea ! "
Never shall I forget the look of astonishment and contempt
she darted at me when she heard this ; she drew up her head
and set her lips as if she scorned me, and would not on any
account have betrayed such interest if she could only have
known what this really meant.
He certainly had not intended to mislead, and answered her
last question without looking at her.
" Yes, in white, I think. I did not see the face, and the
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 155
Land appeared to hover before me till I came more to myself.
Then I drank the wine and ate something, and was in this world
again."
Miss Tott attracted my attention the more strongly because
she was the first person I had met with who, admiring misery,
was very anxious to be thought a sufferer. She liked to talk
about being stricken, and also when she and I were alone of the
great expense it would be to her to go into deep mourning again.
It may have been because the conversation no longer interested
ner that Miss Tott now said she should like to walk about.
Tom offered his arm, and I ran below to my cabin to take my
finished work down and bring up the children. They were just
awake after their morning sleep ; but before we had done dress-
ing them to come on deck, Tom knocked loudly at the door,
exclaiming, " Here's a pretty state of things ; the sea is rising a
little, and Miss Tott begins to look very pale ; you had better
come to her.
I met her coming down. " Oh, let me lie down," she mur-
mured. " Oh, this terrible giddiness ! "
I gave her to Mrs. Brand, the usual thing followed ; but I
observed that she bore it quite as well as other people.
CHAPTER XV.
'To his own master he standetb or falloth."
How much people talk about their first impressions of a foreign
country ! It was about six o'clock, and dark with thunder-
clouds, and pouring with rain, when I was told we had entered
the French harbour, and were lying opposite to the Douane.
My luggage, consisting of one little box, was landed, so was
Miss Tott's ; and we waited on board till it had passed, sitting
under umbrellas. Poor Miss Tott was fainting for air and long-
ing to get away from the scene of her misery. Uncle Rollin, at
the last moment, took alarm and declined to land, but said he
would wait at Havre till we returned from CTaaatasfc. \\ "roa^
156 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
therefore, a point of honour to be as quick as we could, and I
found that Mr. Brandon and Tom had decided on our going on
to Chartres that same evening ; a cab was .waiting to convey us
on to the railway station. We had dined, but poor Miss Tott
had eaten nothing since breakfast, so I made Brand give us a
goodly basket of provisions to carry with us.
We were a party of six including the children. Miss Tott
and I were surprised to find ourselves in a decided mist. We
had hardly expected mist out of England. The rain was un-
commonly like English rain. The railway carriage had the same
defect. This was disappointing; but we had the satisfaction
of hearing the railway officials quarrelling in real French*
Nothing to be seen : rain, mist, thunder-clouds. We soon un-
packed our great basket of provisions. Miss Tott was terribly
vexed at having to eat an English pigeon-pie and salad on French
soil, and after that slices of cake, also such a thoroughly English
dish ! and then Stilton cheese, and lastly, strawberries ; but by
ten o'clock we had done all this with appetite, and then taken
off the children's hats and laid them on the seat to go to sleep.
As the dusk came on the rain ceased, and Miss Tott and I
gazed diligently out of the windows; but darkness, we were
obliged to own, looked much the same everywhere.
We saw hardly anything, even when we reached Paris ; for
the children woke up and cried most piteously. We were soon
shut up in a room with numbers of people, half of whom spoke
as good English as ourselves ; and then the officials, storming at
Mr. Brandon and the parcels we wanted to have with us, hustled
us into a carriage, where, to our disgust, we had to sit for at
least ten minutes before the train started.
We slumbered while it was dark, and day had just dawned on
a perfectly flat country when we first saw the graceful spires of
Chartres Cathedral
All very tired, some very cross, we drove to an hotel, and
straightway went to bed until nine o'clock, when I woke and
peeped out.
Ah ! yes, this was foreign indeed. A fine broad place, house
with two or three tiers of windows in the roof, women without
bonnets, the clatter of wooden shoes, and a vast amount of joyous
jabbering. A big diligence at the door, with three white cart-
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 157
horses harnessed abreast thereto. (It looked like a haystack on
wheels, and was covered with a tarpauling.) A market and a
fair going on ; tables with smoking-hot coffee and round loaves
in the shape of a ring upon them ; bakers' boys bringing these
round their arms and around their necks ; great heaps of apples,
pears, late cherries, stacks of plums, stains of fruit all over the
stones, great rugged melons that did not seem half-ripe, tiny
Frenchmen and Frenchwomen sitting on them in their little
blue pinafores and wooden shoes, and the sun pouring down
over all as it never can in England so early in the morning.
Inside the windows swarmed with flies, and the floor was tiled.
Cheering sights, so foreign !
Miss Tott and I dressed the children in their new clothes,
then we rang, were conducted to a salon, where we found Tom
and Mr. Brandon, and where we ate a remarkable breakfast,
consisting of fried potatoes, rice-pudding, eggs, rolls as long as
our arms, boiled pigeons, and wine.
Tom and I were very anxious to get to the cathedral ; so, as
soon as we had breakfasted, we left Miss Tott and Mr. Brandon
to take the children to their grandmother, and set forth, intend-
ing to find our way and not to ask it, for it was rather a shock
to us to discover that the French spoken by the natives was not
quite so intelligible to us as we had confidently expected to
find it.
It would not have been easy, however, to lose our way,
foreign though we now felt the place to be ; the sun on our backs
was especially foreign, so was the shop we entered. It was full
of the strangest little images, and most of them were black.
We bought the Abbe" Bulteau's description of the cathedral,
a good-sized book, and learned that the ugly little black dolls
represented the celebrated black Virgin. I bought also a Koman
Catholic service-book ; and we went on a little farther, until on
a sudden turn the two grand spires stood before us, and the
wonderful doors, deep and solemn in the shade, and strangely
crowded and guarded by quaint carvings of bishops, saints,
apostles, and kings, all bearing that peculiar look which dis-
tinguishes so much of the sculpture of the Middle Ages.
Innocence, purity, devotion, and a kind of saintly calm were
impressed on their impassive faces, and there was ^o\l^Jk^v%
158 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
majestic in the deeply cut folds of the raiment which covered
them ; but there was in most of them a want of muscle and force
and manliness, of active thought and towering intellect, which
at first, as I gazed, disturbed me ; but after a long look, I felt
that the men who carved them so were right, for if they had
shown any marks of longing, activity, or command, it would
have been painful to think of them as imprisoned there so
long.
We entered ; shall I ever forget the sudden sense of coolness
and shade after the glare of the world outside ! We had stepped
into some glorious gloom back into time, leaving the noise, and
light, and stir of our century behind us ; here was an old-world
cavern, a grand old roof hung over it, and it was all fluted and
fine with hundreds of shafts, and letting in a deep and sombre
rainbow through every one of its hundred and thirty coloured
windows.
We both stood amazed ; they seemed to be little more than
semi-translucent. If a peacock's tail and a dove's neck could
suddenly have let the light filter through them, and could have
added some deep, delightful ruby stains to their own blue, and
green, and brown, and orange glows, they would have been like
one of the windows, but there were so many, and they were all
different !
Oh, how beautiful ! how fearful ! how grand !
I sat down to take my fill of gazing. I saw in the clerestory
windows the quaint old giant kings and priests and heroes
staring down in their jewelled head-gear and minever mantles.
Then I stole into the aisles, and marked the glorious windows
presented by the trades of the town, their artful glories, all dif-
ferent and splendid, and yet the homely, ancient simpleness of
their detail.
I understood, then, for the first time, what man can do with
colour, and felt the peculiar sensation which is the real root of
what attracts and arrests us away from home; that sense of
incongruity, that special way of putting things together, which
foreigners feel to be different from anything they ever do.
Suddenly it became to my English eyes all out of keeping,
for near the marvellous old stone screen that divides the nave
from the choir there was a small, gilded nook, and, in a moment,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 159
all the splendour of the grandest art appeared to give way to a
ftTiildisthj shabby piece of finery, like a show at a fair.
The Virgin the hideous black Virgin ! there she stood on a
projecting bracket ; a vulgar, wooden doll, clad in cloth of woven
gold, and frightful in her jewels, with those staring eyes and
shapeless arms.
About twenty rushlights were burning before her ; they were
stuck on the spikes of a gilt railing which kept the faithful from
touching her, and they winked and guttered down in the day-
light, dropping on some flowers which grew in pots below.
I saw four women kneeling and pressing their lips against the
railing ; their faces were full of adoration, and their eyes gazed
at the image. How often had I been told that they did not
pray to the image but to what it represents ! I had religiously
believed this. I shall never have that comfort again.
The women rose, bowed deeply to the image, and when they
were gone I drew near, and Tom came up with the sacristan.
He took us to see several altars, on each of which stood orna-
ments of plaster like those on wedding-cakes; and to several
niches in which were large figures like those in hairdressers'
shops their gowns were trimmed with nun's lace, and their
hair had flowers in it.
Mr. Brandon just then came up. He had been looking about
for us.
" "Well, what do you think of it ? " he whispered.
" Oh, think ! I cannot think there is such solemn, awful
splendour and such trash and rubbish. Look at that lovely
roof, and then look at those dirty flowers that a kitchen-maid
would scorn to wear ; look how dirty the floor is."
" They are not dirty because they are Koman Catholics," said
Mr. Brandon. " Frenchmen can be dirty whatever their faith
or want of faith You know," he continued, "the Roman
Catholic prelates keep up a beautiful old custom that ours have
relinquished : after service, on Sunclay, they come out and bless
the people. Once, when I was at Coutances, the venerable old
archbishop came out in his golden mitre and all the stiff splen-
dour of his robes, and lifted up his hand, holding it high over
the crowd as he stood on the top of the great steps. With the
other hand, as I presently observed, he "waa i\mK&&.^ yel \a&
160 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
breast, and soon, by slow degrees, I saw him draw out an
immense, blue cotton handkerchief, which was checked like the.
dusters that housemaids use he flourished it, blew his nose,
and then, more people having gathered together, he again raised
his hand in blessing, and no one saw anything strange and
sordid in the blue handkerchief but myself. "
" I do not think that would have offended me. The hand-
kerchief was his own, the gems and the robes perhaps belonged
to his office or to the cathedral. Still it must have damaged the
beauty of the spectacle."
" Perhaps you are regarding all this as a spectacle only."
" Perhaps I am. I must say I feel as much repelled by the
want of cleanliness, for instance, as by the crowned Queen of
Heaven over the door. And that must be wrong."
As we came to the west door and stepped out, he said, " Yes,
and don't you feel a burning desire to set it right for them
taste, and dogma, and all ! What leisure there must be up in
heaven ! You see God is in no hurry with them. Yet I think
He will set them right at last, and perhaps we shall have to be
set right too."
" But I don't see how we can be very far wrong," was my
somewhat youthful answer.
" Don't you ? No more do I. I don't see it, and yet I sup-
pose it must be so."
"Why?"
" Well," he answered, " when I see very plainly, as I appear
to do to-day, that some other people have made mistakes against
themselves, and when I feel very plainly, as I appear to do to-
day, that I have made no such mistake, a thought falls down on
me like a thunderbolt, that if this were the case, surely some-
thing more must and would and should come of it."
" But we all have more light than we use."
" Yes, and that is my answer to myself. And yet, strange to
say, when we toil to do the right for God, and pray to Him for
more light, we often get instead a sense of His stillness and
waiting. Not an atom more certainty to go by, but a warmer
and wider sense of His love, and a greater willingness to let Him
do as He pleases with this world of His."
I was delighting in the resplendent loveliness and purity of
OFF THE SKELLIGS. l6l
light and colour that came in through the glorious west window,
when the sacristan came up to us again and remarked that we
could not have come on a better day, for there was to be High
Mass in the evening ; it would be the grandest spectacle of the
year, and would close with a procession to the crypt. We should
then see the caise in which the sacred relic was kept; four
priests would bear it ; also we should see the sacred banner of
Chartres, with the chemise represented on it; we should acknow-
ledge then that nothing could be more magnificent.
I remained in the cathedral until Tom and Mr. Brandon took
me to see the children and the sweet, tender old grandmother.
She was giving them slices of bread and fruit, and they seemed
already quite at home with her. Though she was the wife of
an hotelkeeper, her manners were charming and her thanks for
the care we had bestowed on her darlings were more elegant
than anything we could say in return.
At midnight we saw the strange procession bearing the sacred
chemise down into the crypt, where before a hideous black image
the people bent in adoration. Hundreds of girls followed chant-
ing, and gazing at the banner with love and reverence indescrib-
able. It was a strange and pathetic sight, and we passed out
from that grand old cave into the night feeling as if all was a
dream. We were to return to Havre that very night, and we
were soon in our places in the railway carriage, feeling very tired,
but too much excited to sleep.
I was sitting lost in thought when we stopped at a station,
and Miss Tott, sighing, laid her hand on my arm, and said,
" You have been gratified, I hope ; and you too, Mr. Graham ? "
Tom nodded.
" No doubt we have all been interested," said Mr. Brandon ;
11 but no two of us have seen the same thing. You and I have
seen what we looked for a common case; it is often difficult to
see anything else. Miss Graham has accomplished it, and seen
something startling."
"I have seen something superior to anything I could have
hoped," she answered. " Something far finer than my fondest
dream. I saw kneeling faith and adoring love; and those
flowers, how lovely they looked in the lamplight ! And you,
Mr. Brandon, did you, could you see anything different V*
1 62 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" Yes ; there is no use in denying it. I saw lamps that we
hire on illumination nights at sixpence a dozen. I heard had
chanting, and I smelt had oil ; hut you know the town-clerk at
Ephesus said of Paul that he was not a blasphemer of the goddess.' 1
" Oh ! what can you mean hy such an allusion as that ? "
" I'm not sure that I know ! It only occurred to me that I
should like to follow that example."
" But I think the town-clerk lied," observed Tom.
" And I think not. I think that while showing the more
excellent way, he was very careful not to he rude or disrespectful,
There is all the grace and courtesy of the East in that speech at
Athens."
" And you actually were not impressed % " cried Miss Tott
" No ; hut I do not complain. I saw what I looked for, and
what I went to see."
"He paid two sous for his chair," said Tom, "and he thought
that was what the show was worth."
CHAPTER XVI.
" O Kate ! nice customs curtsey to great kings " Henry the Fifth.
We dozed when we could that night, hut were all very tired
when we reached Havre. My uncle had established himself at
Wheeler's Hotel, and gave us a grand breakfast there before we
went on board, which we did about twelve o'clock, all feeling
weary, especially poor Miss Tott, who went to her berth directly,
and began to be ill before we were out of the harbour. In the
evening, when lamps were lighted, Mr. Brandon came down into
the chief cabin, and laying two brooches on the table, asked
me, but with some hesitation, whether I would honour him by
choosing one.
" One of these VI exclaimed ; " I thought you chose these at
Chartres for your sisters."
We both laughed, and he forthwith took a ring-case from his
pocket, and laid a pretty ring beside them.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 163
" This," lie said, taking it up and laying it on the palm of his
hand, "has not the disadvantage of having been chosen for
some other person."
I answered, " Ah ! yon chose it for me ? that was kind ; but is
it the custom for gentlemen to make presents to ladies ?"
He looked astonished at my question, which made me feel that
he must think it an odd one ; then he smiled to himself, and
answered, after a pause, that it was not the custom, excepting
under especial circunistnaces.
Observing that he seemed a little out of countenance, and
knowing how ignorant I was, I actually thought I ought to
apologise for the implied supposition that he had done what was
not customary, and I began to say something of the sort when
he hastily checked me.
"You are perfectly right perfectly. It was only^he simpli-
city of your question that took me by surprise. As a general
rule, ladies do not accept presents, nor do men presume to offer
them. And yet," he said, looking at my hand with a sort of
regret, " you go wandering about the world so much, that my
good stars may never guide me across your wake again ; and I
thought that perhaps, without presumption, I might offer you this
tiny thing to remind you of a little episode in your life which
will bear reflection."
" It is for the visionary hand, is it not ? " I could not help
saying, for I had often seen him look at my hands with an
interest that nothing else in me appeared to excite.
" Yes," he answered.
" Then I will have the ring. Thank you ! "
He handed it to me gravely, and I put it on my little finger,
after which we began to talk of Chartres and the children and
the days we had spent together pleasant talk, which lasted till
tea came in, and with it Uncle Kollin and Tom.
"We were within four or five knots of Southampton when I
went to sleep that night, and the last thing I saw was one of the
lights on the Isle of Wight.
Poor Miss Tott insisted on being on deck all night, thinking
it was better for her ; so I had my cabin to myself, and had just
finished dressing the next morning when Tom knocked at the
door, and I called him in.
164 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
He hod a fine bunch of flowers in his hand, and gave them
to me.
" Well, Brandon's off," he said, " I went on shore with him,
and took leave of him."
44 Mr. Brandon gone ?" I exclaimed.
" Yes," said Tom, looking a little disconcerted, " and I bought
you those in the market."
44 Gone without wishing me good-bye 1 "
44 How could he do that when he left before yon were awake!"
" Why did he leave, then, before I was awake 1 I think it
was very strange very. Yes, I think it was very rude of him.*
"You seem to make the matter of great importance," he
muttered. " The fact is, I was obliged to land early myself, and
I told him I was sure you would be far from wishing him to
ntny Iwhind on purpose to take leave of you (he has not seen his
stepfather for nearly two years). So on that assurance he was
glad to leave a message and go."
44 1 should have been sorry if he had stayed out of mete
civility to "
44 So I said," interrupted Tom.
44 Civility to me ; but most people would not have wished to
do such a thing."
44 You nood not be so warm, Dorothea; it was not all my
doing, though I admit that I thought it a good arrangement"
44 Indood, and why ? "
44 Well, if you must know, I wished to spare you from betray-
ing a degree of interest which he would not know what to do
with, and does not reciprocate."
44 Tom 1 " I spoke vehemently ; I was so astonished and so
indignant.
44 And it seems," continued Tom, who then looked uncomfort-
able, 44 it seems that I was right, for you make the fellow's going
of vast consequence."
44 Tom, will you look at me?"
I was so angry that I could not bear him to keep turning
away his face, and my whole nature was roused to assert itself
against his strange interference.
He brought his eyes to meet mine. "Come," he said, "if
you really do not care for Brandon, there is no harm done."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 165
" Yes, there is. You speak as if I had really as if I had
actually behaved with unladylike I mean, with unwomanly
forwardness."
" I have no such thought : I only know that you take an
interest in him."
" Of course I do ; I ought, and shalL Who ever heard of
that being made a fault ? "
" What business had he," said Tom, " to tell me all about his
income, and say that he found it abundant so long as he did
not want to marry, and he thought a man was much freer and
happier single ? "
"I daresay it came out in the ordinary course of conver-
sation."
" But why care so much about the matter 1 " repeated Tom.
" I care that you should mistake me so thoroughly, and that
you should think you have a right to interfere. I do not care
that Mr. Brandon has gone without shaking hands with me, now
that I know that you contrived it."
" An elder brother is generally supposed to have some rights."
" O Tom ! you were older than I long ago ; but I am a woman
now, and you are but a youth."
" Very well, then," still crestfallen and abashed, " if you are
neither in love with him nor angry at his manner of going, we
had better drop the subject."
" In love ! " I repeated with scorn. " He never paid me the
slightest attention."
I thought I had answered him, but he replied, " What has
that to do with it ? Besides, what is attention ? "
I was a little posed, never having received any, or seen any
paid ; but I could not appear so to Tom, so I said that it was
being absorbed in watchful observance and interest in another
person.
" Then Brandon paid none. (Ill put those flowers in water,
or your warm hand will fade them.) Then he or she who pays
attention may love its object or may not (decidedly may not) ; for
I have seen some paid which " (he poured water into my fixed
vase, and put the flowers in it) " which I am expressly told
implied only a natural and proper degree of interest. There ! if
you will change the water daily, they will last some \\3X&"
1 66 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
He went out, quietly shutting the door behind him, while I
stood stock-still in a whirl of agitation, with which mingled
some fear lest Mr. Brandon might have guessed his reason for
proposing to dispense with a leave-taking, and a little regret at
this unceremonious departure.
It was true certainly that he interested me, but so he did
others. Uncle Rollin had taken to him from the first. Tom
liked to hear him talk. Mrs. Brand was his open admirer.
AVhy then all this alarm because he excited the same feeling,
and none other, in my mind? At first, when left alone that
fine morning, I felt frightened, thinking that I must have
behaved foolishly ; but more mature reflection made me certain
of the contrary, and remembering Miss Tott's presence in the
yacht, I hastened into breakfast, eyes sparkling with the remains
of excitement, head a little higher than usual, and mind bent on
proving that my spirits were far from depressed by the departure
of our guest.
Uncle Rollin complimented me on my appearance almost as
soon as he came in. " Such a colour in your cheeks, my dear !
The sea suits her, doesn't it, Tom? One would hardly know
her for the little white-faced thing that came on board from
Ipswich. Hungry this morning, eh? That's welL And so
Brandon's gone a good fellow, a fine fellow; never sailed
with a better. "
" No uncle ; but you are not sorry to be alone, I daresay."
" I don't say that exactly. I did not at all mind him ; he
never interfered with my comfort,"
" But now he is gone, can't I have my lessons more regularly ?"
" Ay, to be sure, to be sure ; I'll give you one directly after
prayers."
I took my lesson ; it lasted only an hour, but I felt as if it
never would be over. At last I was released and went quickly
into my cabin, almost tumbling over Tom, who was sitting in
the doorway. He caught me in his arms, and held me while he
pushed the door to with his foot, and then he kissed me and
said, " You're not angry, Dorothea ? "
" I have been angry."
" You are not now ; I did not mean any harm. ,,
" I don't think I am particularly angry."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 1 67
" Well, I am sorry ; give me a kiss. I really am sorry. "
So I kissed him, and we were reconciled ; but, alas ! sad mis-
chance, no sooner had he left me alone than this new turn of
affairs utterly subdued ma I felt how cross I had been to Tom.
His seeking a reconciliation of his own accord softened me.
Even then I had many regrets about him, and some fears for
his future ; and now he was gentle and anxious to conciliate.
So I was touched and began to shed tears. I cried and sobbed
too, partly at Tom's humility, but partly because I was vexed
with Mr. Brandon, and also sorry that I should never see him
again.
Well, it was a great pity, but I could not help it I had
cried myself happier again, dried my eyes, and reached that
stage of return to common feelings when one goes to the glass
to see how red one's eyes are, when Tom knocked again, and
came in exclaiming, "O Dorothea! But what's the matter?
You've been crying."
I did not say anything.
" Could anything be more unlucky ? Here is Brandon come
on board again ! The fact is, he said he should."
" Oh ! I cannot see him now, Tom ; I cannot possibly. He
would see that I have been crying. Oh ! do devise some excuse."
" You won't see him ? DoUy ! you must ; it would look so
odd ! What is to be done? It's all my fault"
" He must be asked to stay luncheon."
Tom said he would go and press him to stay, but he came
back saying that it could not be done ; Brandon had brought
his stepfather on board, and could only stay a quarter of an hour.
I snatched up a bonnet (there was some shade in a bonnet
then), Tom put a scarf on for me, and I had a brown parasol.
He came on deck with me and whispered, " All right ! hold
the parasol well over you."
I saw somebody's legs, and a voice belonging to them said,
" Miss Graham, I am glad to see you again."
I shook hands mechanically, but kept the fringe of my parasol
fluttering over my eyes till I found that an introduction was
going on between me and somebody else. "Allow me my
father." Now I was obliged to look up, and I saw a very aged
gentleman standing beside him, a most veueraVAfc "mm ^\&l
1 68 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
snowy hair. He took of his hat and paid me some trifling com-
pliment ; then he told me that he had come down to Southamp-
ton to see his son, who had written him word when to expect
him.
I said, " I am sorry my uncle is not on board."
"I regret it much," he replied. "I should have liked to
thank him for his goodness and his hospitality ; but I hope to
see him and you, and you also, lieutenant" (addressing Tom),
" at my house. My daughter and Brandon's sisters will be most
happy, most proud to make your acquaintance."
Such a charming old man I have seldom seen : he was half a
head taller than his son, who was little above the middle height ;
and as he stooped towards me and paid his compliments, then
turning, laid his hand lightly on the shoulder from which a
sling for the injured arm depended, there was a grace and sauvity
in his manner, a cordial affection in his expression of gladness
at having him home again, that I could not admire enough.
As he talked Mr. Brandon regarded him with satisfaction, and
I thought it was evident that he had come on board, not only
that his father might express his obligations to my uncle, but
that he might show us a relation of whom he was evidently so
proud.
He seemed to be about eighty years of age, had a radiant smile,
and could attract everybody. Mrs. Brand was charmed; the
sailors obviously revered his old white head that towered so much
above theirs.
He went over the yacht with Tom and his attentive son, and
I, meanwhile, stood gazing toward Southampton, watching the
green weeds which the rising tide was slowly washing backwards
and forwards, but not thinking of them. No ; my thoughts were
very uncomfortable. I was ill at ease, for when my eyes had
met Mr. Brandon's an intelligent look had leaped out of his : he
saw I knew : he saw that I had been shedding tears, and his
cordial manner had changed instantly to one of restraint and even
of embarrassment.
So I gazed over the vessel's side at the old wall of South-
ampton, and the weed, and the Jersey steamer, just in, and let-
ting off her steam in shrill jerks of sound.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 169
At last Mr. Brandon came up the companion, stepped to my
side, and lifted his hat.
" We are going now, Miss Graham. Good-bye. "
"Good-bye."
" What shall I wish you ? Another patient, I think, since
you are so skilful."
" What, another ! when I have found the present one quite
beyond my management."
" I wish, then, that the next may be less refractory."
" In that case I may echo the wish."
" And less troublesome and as grateful."
" I must not expect such a paragon. Good-bye ; a pleasant
journey."
"And i when he goes away, he gives you a ring, don't
wear it."
" Why not "
"Because it would be very unfair if you wore that /dime's
ring and not mine"
He laughed, and glanced at my hand ; true enough, his ring
was not there, and I felt tempted to tell him that I was wearing
it, notwithstanding, for it was in the little locket round my neck ;
but I resisted the temptation, and now the aged stepfather was
making his adieus, and so, with smiles and mutual compliments,
offers of hospitality, jokes, and thanks, we all parted.
" My uncle will be very thankful to have missed all this grati-
tude," said Tom, looking after them as they kissed their hands
in the boat. " How that fine old fellow talked as if Brandon
was anything better than another father's son ! Well, Dorothea,
your eyes are tolerable now : shall we go ashore, order a fly, and
take a drive among the fields 1 "
I knew he proposed this for my amusement, and I had been
quite long enough at sea to think of fields with delight, so I
agreed ; and when we had taken leave of Miss Tott, who was
going to town by the next train, we set forth, and he was so
affectionate and kind all that day that I forgave him over and over
again for what he had said in the morning. Besides, I had
seen Mr. Brandon; his joyous laugh, and air of pretended
malice when he talked of that fellovfs ring, had done me good,
and restored my self-respect; for now, I thought, though \\fc saw
170 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
tears, he had also seen that I was not wearing his present, and
my apparent carelessness of it had not hurt him only amused
him.
CHAPTEE XVIL
" But to me a modest woman, dressed out in all her finery, is the most tremendous
object of the whole creation." Goldsmith,
After dinner I generally made a point of retiring to my cabin
as to a drawing-room, while Uncle Eollin and Tom sat over
their wine. That night they sent Mrs. Brand to fetch me back,
saying that it was dull for me to sit alone.
It had been raining, the deck was damp and cheerless, so they
had settled themselves below for the evening, and I was glad to
obey the summons and join them. They were deep in talk,
Tom explaining, my uncle continually falling into mistakes.
The subject of the discussion was Mr. Brandon and his family.
" The old man," he said, " is Brandon's stepfather."
" Why, I thought you said he was the father of that widow
lady whom Brandon spoke of."
" So I did, sir, but not by the same mother."
" Well, I cannot make it out. I hardly see how the second
wife could have married three times in the course of so few
years."
" I'll just explain it to you as Brandon did to me. His mother,
then quite a young woman, married a Mr. Brandon, who did not
live till this son was born. Mr. Mortimer was her guardian,
and is Brandon's trustee as well as his stepfather. Well,
when she had been a widow two years, she married a Mr. Grant,
a Scotch minister, and they had three daughters, one of whom is
married and gone to India. This Mr. Grant died when his wife
was about thirty, and Brandon was about seven years old."
" Well, that was about twenty years ago."
" Twenty-one years ago. Then in due time she married this
fine old man. I suppose he was about sixty nearly twice her
age and they had one son. 80, \ou s^ Brandon^ the Grants,
OFF THE SKELLIGa 171
and young Mortimer are all related. What you were confused
about was the daughter of the old man by his former marriage,
for he was a widower. She, you know, is only related to the
young son, but they all call her sister, by way of respect, I
suppose. She is between fifty and sixty."
" What, four families, and all live together ? "
" So it seems ; but in point of numbers it is not at all an
overwhelming household."
" It's not the number, boy, but the quarrelling. "
"They don't seem to quarrel, though the mother is dead.
Mr. Mortimer is fond of his stepchildren. He must be a most
amiable old fellow, I am sure. Brandon says he never saw him
till after the wedding, when he patted him on the head and
gave him a sovereign. That, running off to spend it, he met
some gipsies in a lane and showed it to them, whereupon they
persuaded him to buy a young donkey of them with it. He
said he rode the miserable little beast home, and, being afraid it
would be taken from him, actually managed to get it up the
backstairs without being observed, and secreted it in a light
closet in his bedroom. The circumstance was not discovered
till the next morning, when the bride and bridegroom were
awoke by its tremendous braying. He was delighted at his
mother's marriage."
" Odd, for he knew already what a stepfather was."
" But his experience of stepfathers seems to have been
peculiar ; for when I asked him if he remembered Grant, he said,
* Yes, he used to make Grant rig ships for him, and play with
him when his mother was ill; in return for which he was
expected to learn hymns and come into the study to say his
prayers.' "
So the conversation ended. I have often felt pleasure in
hearing anecdotes about the childhood of people whom I cared
for and looked up to. One sees them thus under a new aspect,
and feels a kind of tenderness towards them, as they were in
those far-off days. I felt it then towards that little curly-headed
urchin at his pranks ; but when Uncle Kollin said, " Deep in
thought, Dorothea? What are you musing about?" I was
startled, and could not reply, "I was thinking about Mr.
Brandon," for Tom had made it awkward foi mfc ercsfcAo t&k&?
172 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
tion his name. There was the real pity. He had put thoughts
into my head that teased me. I did not like to say Mr. Brandon
had given me a ring, lest there should be some mistake about it;
and so I hid it, and it made me uncomfortable and conscious
whenever he was mentioned.
I did not like to speak of him as I did of Miss Tott and the
children ; the consequence was that I thought of him far more
than I should have done otherwise, and made a kind of hero of
him in my mind, towards whom I felt a certain growing enthu-
siasm, which affected my imagination, but, so far from making
me wish to see him again, kept me keenly anxious to remain at
a distance ; a sort of girlish shyness made me think of him as a
superior being. My feeling was precisely that which familiarity
would have melted away, and if I had even talked about him,'
the halo that surrounded him would have faded. But now,
when the sea was rough and I had no book, when it rained and
I could not go on deck, when the weather was calm and I sat
in the place where I had talked to him, I was obliged to tor-
ment myself with troublesome, teasing doubts and fears, as to
whether he might have fancied, as Tom did, that I had given
away my heart to him, or that I had not treated him with
enough reserve.
We had a delightful yachting tour all by the beautiful west
coast of Ireland. I had always been accustomed to look upon
this world as consisting of certain countries bordered by the sea ;
now I begant to think of it as a globe of water. I no longer
thought of the shapes of continents, but of the shapes of the
seas in which they lay. I could not help this. I began to
attach great importance to places that had fine harbours;
islands were no good unless there was safe anchorage round
them ; rivers were delightful because we could sail up them. I
soon began to know what rivers could take us on their bosoms,
and how far we could go. Sometimes, when I came to a bridge
and a town, it appeared surprising to me that so many people
could live contentedly on shore ; and, after a few days spent in
looking about me, I was generally glad to sail again.
Sometimes at the towns on the coastguard stations old naval
officers and young ones came on board, and were made much of.
It they were very old friends, my uncle sometimes returned their
OFF THE SEELLI6S. 1 73
visits. Tom often did, and not unfrequently one or two would
come on board for a few days ; but we did not have the Mom-
pessons one of their children was ill, and they put off their
visit indefinitely.
At last, about the middle of September, after loading ourselves
with everything we could possibly want, and after many presents
from my uncle to me of ribbons, laces, shawls, gloves, scarfs,
silks, and other most useful adornments as I then thought them,
we set sail for a winter cruise to the West Indies, and after that
I was told I should see Rio.
I was greatly delighted, and would fain have flung every scrap
of finery into boxes and there left it till I landed ; but Mrs.
Brand, as she sat in my cabin at work on the bows of a hand-
some sash, said to me, rather pointedly, when I entered one
afternoon, "Dear me, ma'am, to think of your putting on that
ugly * waterproof.' "
" TDgly is it t w I answered ; and I turned my head over my
shoulder, for I knew it was short, and that it showed the flounces
of my gown beneath it. " Well," I continued, " I can't always
be thinking of my dress."
"Can't you, ma'am t" she answered, quietly. "Well, it's
lucky, then, that in general you don't object to my thinking of
it for you."
She took off my cloak, for it was wet ; and then, as I made
no objection, she tried the sash against my waist.
"You can't go on deck again," she said; "and as it only
wants an hour to dinner-time, it would be a good thing if you
was to let me dress you."
"Very well," I answered, for I was a little struck by her
manner; and I stood quite still while she took out various
things, and considering what would look well together, proceeded
to put them on.
" You scarcely ever look at yourself in the glass, ma'am," she
presently said.
"There is no occasion," I answered laughing. "You take
good care that I shall never leave your hands till I am perfectly
neat and nice ! "
"Most young ladies," she answered, a little reproachfully,
" look at themselves very frequent ! Mastd, "he viaa t&yft^
174 0FF THE SKELLIG&
only yesterday to Mr. Graham, that you were improved to that
degree since you came on board, nobody ever could know you."
" Do you think it is so V I inquired, with pleasure.
" Of course," she answered ; " you were so pale then. Not
but what I liked the looks of you from the first. I thought,"
she continued, looking at me affectionately, " I thought you had
the innocentest face anybody ever saw."
" You mean a baby face, don't you ? "
She laughed because I did ; but she returned to the attack.
"And they're quite proud of your appearance. Both the
gentlemen are. You look so graceful and slender, especially
when you're well dressed." And so she went on, "I should
take a world of pains, if I were you, ma'am, to have them always
proud of me, and be as particular every day as if there was to be
ever so many strangers to dinner. You've got such dozens upon
dozens of light kid gloves, why shouldn't you wear 'em in the
evening ; you've got such laces, such sashes, and I don't know
what. Dear me, make yourself a charming young lady with it
all, or else after this one cruise, you may depend upon it, you
won't stay on board long"
She spoke with slow impressiveness ; and I was so certain she
had good ground for what she said that her words fell on me
like a thunderbolt. I knew my being on board was a great
pleasure to her. I knew that many things were said before her
and Brand that were never said before me ; and I resolved, there
and then, to follow her advice to the utmost. So, when she
had dressed me in a lilac silk petticoat, with an embroidered
white dress over it, and when she had given me a pair of lilac
gloves of a still paler tint, I went up to the glass, thankfully
acknowledged a great improvement, and looked at myself with
much attention.
"Well, ma'am," she inquired, "don't look so grave. Will
it do?"
The gown had a light, transparent body, and I took courage ;
for I was sure I had never looked so well in my life.
" I think it wants a little gold about it," I replied ; and she
brought out a gold necklace that Tom had given me, and a gold
bracelet. So I put on my gloves, and she said
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 1 75
" Now don't be downhearted, ma'am ; but just you give your-
self all the airs that ever you can ! "
I turned to kiss her ; but I was rather in dismay, and as I
came floating into the chief cabin, with my delicate skirts behind
me, I felt myself blush with shyness and discomfort.
But some people are destined to find out things and others to
act upon them. To describe the change in my uncle's manner,
and Tom's too, would be quite impossible ! And what amused
me most, when I could dare to think of it, was that they were
perfectly unconscious both of the change and the cause of it.
No, I never despised my fine array any more. I saw at once
how much in their opinion it did for me, and when my uncle
asked me to play on my new piano that he had bought for me,
and which I had far too much neglected, I rose, and Tom opening
it for me, I f orebore to thank him, but took the attention as a
matter of course, which I thought would have a good effect, and
it had.
I never once again went on deck when it rained or blew so
hard that I could not be well dressed ; and I had frequent con-
sultations with Mrs. Brand as to what I looked best in. It
appeared, from various little things she said, that I had already
been in danger of being placed with a family on shore, and I
found that it was not my dear old uncle who felt that the yacht
was an unfit place for me, but this brother whom I so much
loved
I utterly forgot Mr. Brandon in my desire to make myself
agreeable and ornamental. Tom was so fond of seeing pretty
things about him, and graceful ways, that I could almost always
tell whether he liked my dress or not ; and Mrs. Brand was so
clever, that there was no need for me to weary him by want of
variety.
So I dressed to please my old uncle and my young brother ; I
found out, with Mrs. Brand's help, what was becoming; and,
strange to say, my lot has been so cast, that it has been my duty
as well as my interest to study the art of dress ever since.
That was a delightful winter; but Tom has published an
account of those travels, and if I were to write of them they would
fill volumes. We went gliding about, first among the West
Indian islands, left our own bare green levels witla. VJaaVxVyw-
176 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
lying broidery of meadow flowers, and went sliding down over
the polished water to the middle of the world ; then, while all
the top of it was white, and all its best things were neatly put
away, and covered up till spring under the snow, we hung about
in little landlocked coves, with polished azure floors, and cliffs
as pale as cinnamon, and sometimes stole into the edges of the
steaming forests, and saw dangerous wedges from the sun shoot
straight in like gold thunderbolts, and the sleepy caymans welter-
ing in their lukewarm swamps would snap at them, and stretch
their yawning jaws as if to take them in.
We fluttered about here and there, from continent to island,
we treated all with great respect ; it did not belong to us who
lived on the edge and upper fringes of the earth, and there was
danger in the beauty and beauty in the danger.
Then it was that after awhile I began to be sure that the
world was yet young ; she was a wild thing that God and His
time had only half tamed, and sometimes by day and always by
night I derived from her ways and the sleep that was on her a
consciousness of her life as a whole.
For after sunset till about midnight it would often seem that
she was slumbering while yet everything on her that had life
was restless and stirred, and came out to drink ; and they called
and cried to one another and to their Maker (for they are not so
unconscious of God as men are), at least it has long appeared so
to me ; but they do not love Him as many of us do, and some
of them seemed to cry to Him defiantly, and others grumbled
and complained.
Then, about the dead middle of the night, in some parts of
the tropical zones, but not in all, there would come a pause, as
if the living creatures were appeased and at rest, and thereupon
the dark beautiful world would wake up, and while the stars in
their courses made it plain to me how fast she was rolling, a sort
of murmur would sound, whether from within and sent up from
her mighty heart, or from without, and borne by the multitudes
of the waves, I cannot tell ; but it is not to be forgotten when
once it has been heard, and it seemed like a message sent up into
the heaven to remind her Maker how He had held her in hand
very long, and sent her on very fast, and she was not wearied,
but altogether amazed at the greatness of the way. I was so
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 177
strangely impressed with these sensations, that I often came up
in the night, and sometimes Tom who saw how awful and
tender the night-time seemed to me would call me when there
was anything more than usually beautiful to he seen. It was
always the same ; there was a message, and it was going up to
God. Sometimes, when I slept after such a midnight watching,
I have dreamed that I heard an answer : " It was not long, it was
only a very little while that she had rolled. It was not far but
a very little way"
While we remained, which we did all the winter in the
glorious heat, Tom was sometimes very genial, and generally he
was calm; but as we gradually drew up homeward again, I
observed the same silent brooding of thought in his manner that
had struck me so much months before. Every day as we came
up northward it fell down over him. He was very dull, almost
spiritless. Oh, how different from that Snap whom once I had
played with ! He was altered even since I had come on board,
more silent and more absent. I could now hardly recognise a
trace of what he had been in his early boyhood, and his evident
avoidance of all confidential talk, his dislike of being alone with
me, and his restlessness, made me often seriously afraid that
something I knew not what was impending.
I had been greatly struck with his silence and alteration of
character when first I left school, but I had made myself believe
that he felt shy in my company on account of our having been
parted so long.
Afterwards, when I saw how listless he was, and then that,
when we were at Southampton, there was a sort of unnatural
eagerness about him, I was compelled to give up that fancy. The
change had nothing to do with me ; I could neither influence
him nor interest him ; I must be content to talk to him and play
to him when he wished it. I must take him as I found him.
When we got to Southampton, and sent for our letters to the
hotel where they were always directed, I knew or at least felb .
that there would be none for me. I had no correspondents ;
my father never wrote. Amy only wrote twice a year. So I
went forth with Mrs. Brand to take a walk, and I thought I had
never seen anything so lovely as the airs the daisies were giving
themselves, and the golden celandines that April motmiv^ o
178 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
small and so pleased to show themselves, how different from the
great trailing passion-flowers I had come from, creatures obviously
so indifferent who looked at them. The whole of these Northern
flowers looked so modest, and yet so conscious of man. I
gathered a few daisies, and as I came back to our sitting-room
at the hotel, Uncle Rollin tossed me a letter, saying
" There, Dorothea, you may do as you like, but I shall decline,
of course."
It was a letter from Mr. Mortimer, and contained a pressing
invitation to him, Tom, and myself to come and stay with him
and his family. The country, he said, was looking beautifully,
the weather was fine; his son was impatient to renew his acquaint-
ance with Tom ; his daughters longed to make mine, &c.
" Do you wish to go ? "
I could not tell ; I had been away so long that I felt as if I
should be awkward and shy, and I faltered and said that I had
never paid a visit in my life, and that this one seemed formidable.
" You will want some new gowns," said Tom, who now entered,
and evidently knew the contents of the letter.
The notion of a visit in the country among green hills, fields,
and hedges, away from the sound of the sea, and where I might
ramble far and wide, was delightful to my yearning heart ; but
then the conversation with Tom, and Mr. Brandon's look when
he saw my red eyes, came into my mind, and a kind of sensitive
pride and shame kept me silent.
" You cannot hesitate of course, Dorothea," said Tom, " and I
shall go certainly. I never argued in my life so much as I did
with that fellow, and I should like to have it out with him if I
could ! "
" If she prefers to stay, she may," observed Uncle Rollin.
But no, I did not prefer it ; the yacht was calm, and safe, and
quiet, and this visit, I knew, would lift me into a different world.
I was very much excited, even at the thought of it, and Mr.
Brandon's face and voice, which I had lost from me, and almost
for a time forgotten, seemed to come near to me again now that
I was approaching his home, and made me feel awkward and
shy ; but I longed for the land, so I told Tom I would accept
the invitation. During the winter, delightful as I had found its
splendid light, colour, and heat, I had often felt an extraordinary
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 179
pining for the green grass of my own country, and for the cheer-
ful voices of my own country folk. I wanted to use my tongue,
my hands, to be busy, even to be teased; also, to be in a
house!
It made me more content to go that I was to have Mrs. Brand
with me, I knew he would never leave her behind ; she and
Brand were necessary to his comfort; so I felt sure that however
long we stayed he would wait for us, and set about my prepara-
tions for the visit with some security of heart.
As usual he heaped a quantity of finery on me, and showed
an unaccountable desire that I should do him credit as far as all
my habiliments were concerned. I took several walks with him,
during which we inspected the outside of shop-windows, and a
large assortment of things went with me, which I resolved should
never see the light unless I found the family just the very reverse
of the sort of people I expected.
I have so many journeys to describe, my life has been so much
spent in travelling, that I shall say nothing of this one, but pass
an to the moment when Tom and I took leave of Uncle Kollin,
and got into a railway carriage in a pouring rain.
"We spent four hours in the train. I shall never forget what
happy hours they were. I quite forgot Mr. Brandon and all the
strangers I was going to, for there were real English cottages
to see, and homely farm-yards, with poultry, cattle, trees just
breaking into leaf, fallows soaked with spring rain, lambs, all
common things, but to me they were opening paradise.
The weather grew fine, and then sunny, as we advanced west-
ward. The little station we were bound for appeared at last, the
train stopped, and in the balmy delightful air I smelt the per-
fume of violets.
"There's Brandon," exclaimed Tom, " and a great tall boy, and
two ladies."
We were soon out of the carriage ; introductions were going
on, laughter, and welcome. A tall girl was introduced as my
sister, Miss Grant, and another as my sister Elizabeth, and the
youth as my brother Valentine. This last was a remarkably fine
young fellow with light-brown eyes, a smiling face, and a cracked
voice. A countrified servant was soon dragging out our luggage
under Mrs. Brand's superintendence, and while wo waited^ t&tj
eya$ In spite of myself, were drawn to a bunch, of pxYrnxosfca \taaX
l8o OFF THE SKELLIGS.
one of the girls held. I pretended not to care for them, but
could not help taking another and another look, whereupon the
cracked voice spoke in my behalf,
" Lou, Miss Graham wants your primroses."
The tall boy took them from her without ceremony, and gave
them to me. "Would you like some violets? " he continued;
" this is a very violety place."
" Yes, indeed, I should."
" Ah ! I thought so, Lou ! "
" Yes ! "
" Keep up Miss Graham's spirits while I'm gone, by timely
allusion to her own demesne ; talk about shell-fish, the grampus,
and anything else that's cheerful and salt."
By this time the train had gone on, and Mrs. Brand, looking
as if she was going to be led to immediate execution, was sitting
still while the luggage was deposited in a cart by the thin old
servant who wore a suit of drab. I was obliged to leave her to
herself ; and Mr. Brandon put me into a large heavy old carriage
which was waiting. The two girls followed, and then he said
he should wait behind to bring on an old Scotch aunt, who was
coming in a few minutes by a train from the west. Tom declared
his intention of remaining behind also ; and at the last minute
before we started, Valentine came up without his cap, which was
full of violets, white and blue, and plenty of wet green leaves.
"Now what do you mean by this imprudence," said his
brother, " when your voice is cracked in three places already ? "
As if that was a sufficient answer, Valentine replied that the
flowers were for me, and he insisted on getting inside ; and he
helped me to make them up into a large bunch, while he drove
slowly on through a country lane.
I felt almost too happy to speak; the scent of the flowers was
so sweet, and the green hedges, with their half -opened leaves,
were so fair.
I looked out and saw daffodils hanging their yellow heads in
the warm air ; rooks were sailing and cawing over a group of
elms, under which we were passing.
" Eomantic, isn't it ? " said Valentine, again coming near to
my thought.
"Lou, I say there are some goslings, I know Miss Graham
wants some goslings."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. l8l
He stopped the carriage and got out. We were passing
through a little wood ; I saw wild anemones, and heard birds
piping on the houghs ; the delicate sunshine of the north was
sifting through them, and dropping about on the grass as lightly
as if it felt that it was taking a liberty. Down in a hollow,
gleaming white in the creases between cushions of moss, I saw
wandering patches of snow, for the spring had been late, and
warm weather had come on suddenly.
The Miss Grants, now left alone with me, made a few remarks,
which I answered mechanically ; while with eyes and ears I took
in the delightsomeness of my home.
Presently Valentine returned, with some twigs of willow
covered with downy catkins.
" Called goslings by the native children," he observed, as he
got in ; " for this is an inhabited island. Do you see that red
erection, with a green door ? "
" Yes, certainly."
" That is one of the houses of the native population ; places
where, as you would say, they 'turn in;' but where, as we
say, they 'hang out.' Liz, I know by the look of you that
you're going to speak. There's no need."
"Really, Val," exclaimed the sister, "you must not be so
impertinent."
" You don't understand the nautical temper. I ought to do.
Haven't I got up the names of no end of ropes and spars?
Don't I know all about the Gulf Stream ? Why, I've studied
tonnage and pennons and stores, that I might meet her in her
ewn element ; but now she has run aground I find I'm cut adrift,
for her thoughts are set upon dirt and weeds. You like me,
don't you, Miss Graham ? "
"Very much, indeed."
"Ah, I told you so, Lou. There's another cottage. Now
you wouldn't have found out, unless I told you, that I helped to
paint that door. When I was young youngish I was very
fond of paint."
" You were about seven years old," said Liz.
" Yes," replied Valentine. " Our gardener once lived there,
and when we went away, St. George got papa to let him white-
wash the inside himself, for his own pleasure. I "helped oi tfrossft.,
1 82 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and then lie painted it up. And I remember to this day what
joy it was to hear the slap of the brush upon the wood ! We
laid out the garden, too; then we built a pigsty. Papa and
mamma used to come down every day to look at us. I helped,
as well as I could ; and it was very good fun. You see that
donkey-shed. St. George built that, too ; but I fell off it and
broke my arm."
Is St. George a bricklayer f "
To think of your not knowing ! Why, we call Giles so be-
cause mamma did. Now we are coming to a turn in the lane,
and you will see our house my father's house described in
'The County Guide Book* as 'the modest but substantial
residence of Daniel Mortimer, Esq., Justice of the Peace, with
one long wing. ,,,
" Which has the wing ? "
" You will judge of that when you have seen Daniel Mortimer,
Esq., and his modest residence ; but I thought you had seen my
father. Haven't you ? "
" Yes ; I shall not easily forget him."
" Ah ! every one says I'm my father's own son ; and that's more
than Giles can say, or, indeed, others who shall be nameless."
Liz and Lou did not seem in the least to resent this allusion,
but sat back in the carriage, opposite one another, calmly and
idly good-humoured. Neither was pretty, but both were rather
attractive. They were a good deal alike being tall, of full
figure, hair brown and falling in natural curls, and faces rather
broad.
They had brown eyes, but here the resemblance between them
ceased, for Lou had a good set of teeth and a well-formed mouth,
and was fair ; but Liz had prominent teeth, and what is some-
times called a muddy complexion.
They now pointed out a good-sized square house as their
home ; it was of red brick, stood in pleasant grounds, and had
some fine beech-trees about it.
In five minutes we had stopped at the door, and Mr. Mortimer's
white head appeared. He handed me out, and took me into a
hall paved with blue and white stone, and hung with fishing-
rods and guns.
He took me through it into a small room, where sat a lady,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 183
with her feet on the fender, reading a novel. This, I found,
"was his widowed daughter, Mrs. Henfrey. A tiresome person I
then thought her, for she made me sit by the fire, insisting
languidly that I must be cold, and mildly positive that I was
dreadfully fatigued.
In the meantime the two girls and Valentine, having done
their duty by me in bringing me home, declared that they
positively must go and meet Aunt Christie ; and they set off
across, the fields, being plainly visible from the window where
I sat.
I wished I was with them.
CHAPTER XVm.
M It was a hairy oubit, sae proud he crept alang,
A feckless hairy oubit, and merrily he sang :
My Minnie bids me bide at name until I get my wings ;
111 show her soon my soul's aboon the warks o' creeping things. **
Kingsley.
I WAS left with Mrs. Henfrey for a quarter of an hour, and shot
glances now and then through the window at an old-fashioned
garden full of gravel walks and formal beds, in which grew
patches of red and white and blue hyacinths, and crown imperial
lilies, and jonquils, and delightful brown wallflowers and lilac
primroses.
After this, Lou and Liz, Tom, Mr. Brandon, and Valentine,
all came in together, bearing with them a tall, bony Scotch-
woman, who was very much blowsed, and rather muddy, from
having tramped through the woods with them, but she was
in as high spirits as any of them, and the noise and cheerful
chattering they all made delighted me and made my heart dance.
They were very hungry, they said, and it was long past lunch
time, so the old Scotch lady and I were hurried up-stairs to
divest ourselves of our travelling gear, and then we were taken
into a large dining-room with sash windows and heavy red
curtains, a wide fire-place, and a somewhat fadeiTxxiV^ c&y^\.
1 84 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Everything was different from my expectations, but nothing
was so different as Mr. Brandon ; and I had become so accus-
tomed to my uncle's exceeding shyness, the amount of attendance
with which he surrounded himself, and the gilded richness and
over-polish and luxury of all the fittings in the yacht, that there
was something very delightful to me in the unconscious ease of
everybody about me, the absence of servants, and the comfort*
able old furniture, that looked as if it had been unchanged for
years.
"What interests you, Miss Graham?" asked Valentine.
What most interested me was to find Tom already talking
freely to Aunt Christie, who sat by him bolt upright, with a
clear sparkle in her pale blue eyes, and a large cap and collar of
the very stiffest lace ; but I answered :
" Among other things, the roomy amplitude of this house : so
different from the saloon in the yacht ; and I like these high
ceilings and wide doors."
" Oh, I thought you were looking at the pictures. There are
Lizzy and Louisa behind you, and there is Giles. Papa had
them done : they were in the Eoyal Academy exhibition last year ;
then they went back to the artist, and we have only had them a
fortnight."
I cast a glance behind me, saw two shepherdesses in white,
was instantly aware that Lizzy and Lou were flattered, but,
luckily, was not asked what I thought.
" And that's St. George opposite."
" You can't think, Graham," said Mr. Brandon, " what a life
I am leading just now in consequence of that portrait."
" But is that meant for Mr. Brandon ? " I asked.
" Meant for him ! of course it is," exclaimed Valentine.
" Lizzy ! Miss Graham won't believe that is Giles. She thinks
it too flattering."
" I did not say anything of the kind. I think it is a very
agreeable picture."
" What is the matter with it, then ? " asked Valentine.
" As a likeness, do you mean ? "
" Yes ! take a good look at him, and then see if it is not like."
I did take a good look. I saw not only that this same St.
George was unlike the portrait, but he was delightfully unlike
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 185
the image of his former self, which existed in my mind. He
was even a little put out of countenance when I looked at him.
I had felt very shy at the notion of seeing that man again ; but
this man I felt as much at ease with as if he had been an entire
stranger. So after considering him for a moment, and finding
that I was expected to reply, I said, " Nothing is the matter ;
bat that it is not like." And I hoped they would not ask me
whether I thought it nattering for I did think so and I felt
a sudden sense of joy and freedom, for I had faced the idea
which had tormented me, and it had vanished into air.
It was evident that these portraits were just then subjects of
frequent family discussion, and that the opinion of a stranger
was thought valuable.
" Tha first thing papa asks you when he comes in," observed
Valentine, " will be whether you like that picture ; and if you
do not like it, he won't like you. He thinks it perfection. I
hear him and sister in the hall ; they always come in when they
think Giles has helped all round. Now you'll see ! "
I looked at it again, and liked it less ; then, while the original
talked and laughed and made his dog beg for bones, I noticed
him. I had always observed the peculiar grace of his figure, but
he was so closely cropped when in the yacht, that he had an air
of a convict about him. His hair was now grown ; it was dark,
and stood back from his face with rather a cloud-like effect.
His bruises and scorches had disappeared, and his face, though
healthful in appearance, had no ruddy tints. His hair had no
gloss, that in the portrait shone ; but, on the whole, though he
was not handsome, there was something striking in his appear-
ance and distinguished about him ; and how he had managed to
turn himself into such a different person I could not think.
Mr. Mortimer now entered with his daughter, and took his
place at the head of the table. Silence was preserved ; every-
body looked at me. Mr. Brandon, though he pretended to occupy
himself with a cold round of beef, was evidently in amused
expectation of the question which sure enough was propounded
almost directly.
" And what do you think of my picture, eh, Miss Graham ?
Good likeness that over the chimney-piece ; uncommonly good ;
don't you think so ? "
1 86 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Obliged to answer, I replied that I had not noticed much
likeness at first, but perhaps it would grow upon me.
He looked surprised ; took up his glass to examine it anew.
"Couldn't be better, a wonderful art is portrait-painthig!
Well, now, what fault do you find with it ? "
He looked straight at me, and I knew that every one else
was looking too, Tom included. Nothing but the truth and
the whole truth would do, so I wished to say it, and, as I hoped,
to have done with it. " I think it is flattered ; but perhaps it
does no justice to the original ? "
" Flattered ! " he exclaimed with evident astonishment, " and
does no justice ! The two things sound like contradictions.
Flattered ! "
"Well, papa," said Valentine, "you must admit that those
eyes are blue ! "
" So are Mr. Brandon's," I remarked ; and turning to encounter
them, I saw, to his amusement and mine, that they had a
decidedly grey hue. " Ah, well ! " I could not help sayings
"I'm sure they used to look blue in the yacht." But this
speech was followed by such a chorus of laughter that I should
have felt discomfited if Tom had not joined in it, and seemed
as much amused as any one. " It must have been the green
and yellow bruises that made them look blue," I continued, by
way of excuse for this want of observation, and then I was
urged on by the family to make some further remarks, which
Mr. Mortimer caused Valentine to repeat to him.
"She says," exclaimed Valentine, "that Giles has a much
more original face than the portrait."
" You are a very original little girl," said Aunt Christie.
" Miss Graham has no wish to be original," said Mr. Brandon,
" if you would only let her alone. Never mind, my liege," he
continued, raising his voice and speaking to his stepfather;
"no one is so good a judge of a portrait as the person it was
done for ; and if you are pleased the thing is good, it could not
be better."
But Mr. Mortimer again returned to the charge.
" How can a portrait be both flattered and the reverse ? "
Then Tom came to the rescue, and said that could easily be ;
the gentleman could be made prominent at the expense of the
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 187
man; the features might be ennobled, and yet be made to ex-
press a meaner soul.
"Ah hem!" said Mr. Mortimer. "Giles, 111 take some
more beef. He's the very image of his dear mother ; her breath-
ing image !"
" Graham, I wonder what sort of a portrait you would make ? "
observed Mr. Brandon.
" I'm too sublimely ugly to look well on canvas," said Tom.
" I had a photograph done lately for my sister, but the features
did not seem to have made up their minds as to their places !
The eyes were everywhere. I did not notice the nose, but the
mouth seemed to be nowhere."
Aunt Christie looked at him with surprise.
" Graham flatters himself that he's very ugly," said Mr. Bran-
don, " I don't see it myself ; he says real ugliness distinguishes
a man."
Yes," said Tom, addressing Aunt Christie, " ugliness of the
right sort is a kind of beauty. It has some of the best qualities
of beauty it attracts observation and fixes the memory. Now,
youTI find that you won't easily forget me."
He turned full upon her, and she had not a word to say. No
doubt she did think him ugly, and she actually looked quite
out of countenance until, Valentine exclaiming that no one had
admired the new carving-knife, Mr. Brandon took it up and
displayed its peculiarities ; it was a circular thing, and looked
sufficiently formidable.
" It was given to me by a friend of mine, who is a poulterer,"
he remarked
" Nonsense ! " exclaimed Mrs. Henfrey ; " don't believe a word
he says, Miss Graham."
" Doesn't he make a good portion of his income by breeding
poultry, and doesn't he contract with a man in London to sell it ?
Doesn't he send it up by cartfuls ? I say he is a poulterer, only
the oddness of the thing is that he stipulates to be allowed to kill
every single bird himself, unless his friends kill them for him."
" Horrid man ! " I exclaimed ; " only think of taking delight
in wringing the necks of cart-loads of poor creatures ! "
"He doesn't wring their necks," said Mrs. Henfrey, "he
shoots them. 'Pheasants, yon know ! "
1 88 OFF THE 8KELLIG8.
"Oh!"
" It's only his way of putting things."
" But I mind the day when ye were uncommonly fond of ^
gun," said Aunt Christie. " There was the old matchlock yov**
grandfather Brandon give you ; it was almost as long as hrmaftlf ?
and when ye complained to the mannie Murdock how it kicked
' Kick, does she ? ' said he, taking the part of the old gun }
' well, I'd sooner he kicked hy her than hy a Christian, ' "
"So would I," he answered. "Some Christians kick very
hard. Yes, I was a murderous little wretch. I remember the
first rabbit I blew to pieces with it I almost wept for joy, and
grudged going to sleep at night and losing sight of my old
gun."
" What are they talking about ? " asked Mr. Mortimer.
"About St. George's old gun, papa," answered Valentine,
who sat on his left hand ; " he gave it to me, you know, when
I was a very small boy ; but I was not allowed to load it ; so I
used to sit by it, and rub it up here and there with sand-paper ;
and when I went out I used to lock it up in the attic, and wear
the door-key round my neck, lest any one should get it."
"Ay-e," said Aunt Christie, making a sound almost two
syllables long of that little word, " how your father smiles ! "
He did not hear her, and she went on. "Do ye mind, Giles,
yer speech as a child, when I asked you what the new papa was
like ye were hopping round the table, and little fat Emily after
ye. ' Some people, when they smile,' ye answered, as gravely as
possible * some people, when they smile, only stretch out their
mouths ; but when the new papa smiles he lights up his shop.'
That was because they had taken ye to London, and ye were so
delighted with the shops when the gas was lit."
" If you go into all the family anecdotes that exist in your
capacious memory, you must be put to death," he answered;
" we can't stand it ! "
" No," said Liz. " Now, sister, hasn't she told that anecdote
a dozen times at least ? "
Sister, who was just rising to leave the room with Mr. Mor-
timer, made answer that " no doubt it had been told before."
" And I am sure I know no reason why I am to forget those
old days," said the joyous old woman.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 189
"Ah!" said Valentine, "those were happy days, Aunt
Christie, when we were young."
" Speak for yourself, laddie," she answered ; " for my part, I
often feel very inconveniently young yet; I feel a spring of
youthful joy in me sometimes which is strangely at variance
with, circumstances ! "
We now all left the dining-room, and Liz and Lou took me
upstairs to my room, where they hegan to inspect some of my
gowns which Mrs. Brand had left lying on a sofa.
It must he natural to girls to he sociable at least, it must he
natural to me. The delight I felt in talking cosily to Lizzy and
Lou is indescribable. We did not say anything very wise, or
very much the reverse; hut we speedily became confidential.
They told me they had vainly speculated as to what sort of a
girl I should prove to be. I confessed how shy I had felt at the
notion of coming among so many strangers. These bygone feel-
ings we laughed at, and had just agreed to address each other by
our Christian names, when there was a violent knock at the door.
"Who's there V said Liz.
The cracked voice responded.
"Ah! I said you were there. What are you doing boxed
up with Miss Graham? She's not your visitor a bit more than
mine. If you won't come out soon, I shall come in."
" W& are coming down almost directly."
" Well, do. It's a shame. Miss Graham ? "
"Yes."
" Don't you feel very dull without me ? "
"Of course."
Valentine withdrew. We meant to follow, but some fresh
topic of discourse was started, and we stayed, perhaps, ten minutes
longer.
Another louder knock.
"What do you want, you tiresome boy?" said Lou, now
opening the door.
"Why, Charlotte and Dick and Frank are here; and they
have brought the blind pupil."
80 down we went, and found these young visitors two fine
youths about eighteen years of age, a very pretty girl, and a
blind boy.
X90 OFF THE SKKLLIGS,
*
I soon found that these were the daughter and pupils oi the
vicar. They were all energetic in their lamentations over Yalen*
tine's cough ; for he, it seemed, when in health, was a pupil at
the vicarage. He was openly assured by the pretty Charlotte
that the whole house was in despair at his absence ; then one
of the pupils administered further comfort by remarking that
it never took more than a month to "polish off" the hooping-
cough ; the other tucked the blind boy under his arm in a really
kindly fashion, and they retired after receiving a present of *
little box of eggs from Valentine, which the blind boy touch-
ing lightly with his fingers-tips, named, and, as it seemed,
correctly.
" Old Tikey," Valentine afterwards observed, " was a horrid
coddle. Fellows must have the hooping-cough some time, and
yet Old Tikey had actually sent him home on account of two
boys who had not yet taken it. And isn't that sneak, Prentice,
delighted?" he added.
" Who is Prentice ? " I asked.
"He's a most odiously conceited fool he's an intolerable
young prig."
" Come," said Liz, " this is nothing but rank jealousy. Pren-
tice is reading for Cambridge he is Val's rival, Dorothea."
" He is only just nineteen five months older than I am and
he is engaged to Charlotte. Only think of that ? "
" Silly f eUow ! "
" Old Tikey doesn't know. Do you think those fellows who
called just now look older than I ? "
"Older? No, younger. Much shorter, and more boyish
altogether."
" Ah ! they are small for their years ; but the oldest of those
has made an offer ! There never was such a muff in this world ;
we can make him do anything."
"It's quite true, I assure you," said Lou, seeing me look
amazed.
" But I suppose he made it of his own free will ? " I inquired.
" Nothing of the sort ; we made him do it. It was just after
Prentice had informed me of his engagement to Charlotte, and
we were all bursting with rage at the airs he gave himself. And
bo, by a happy inspiration, I said to Grainger that fellow whom
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 191
you have just seen * Well, Dick, I suppose your affair will be
coming off soon ? ' And we actually made him believe (that we
might make Prentice appear the more ridiculous, you know),
we made him believe that he had paid great attention to Old
Ekey*s sister. She is fat, more than forty, and we made him
believe that he had stolen her affections, and must take the
consequence."
"If I were you, I would keep these school-boy delinquencies
to myself," said Iiz.
"Very well, then, talk and amuse Miss Graham yourself."
A silence naturally followed, which I broke after a while by
asking for the end of the anecdote.
"Oh ! " said Valentine, " two of the other fellows and I talked
seriously to him. He is such a jolly muff. We said, ' Grainger,
we could not have thought it of you ! * And we actually worked
Hm up to such a pitch that he vowed he would do it. But he
was very miserable. He said it made him so low to think of a
long engagement, and, beside, what would his mother say ? We
told him he ought to have thought of that before. We made
a great deal of his always having carried her prayer-book to
church for her. We said, that perhaps he was not aware that
this was considered the most pointed attention you could
possibly pay to a woman ! Well, then we talked of honour,
you know."
"What a shame!"
"Yes," replied Valentine, "so it was; but then there was
Prentice. We felt that we could not live in the same house
*ith him, unless we could make him feel small. We were
strolling under a clump of trees, not far from Old Tikey's house ;
and when we had worked at Grainger for some time, he suddenly
darted off. And an old woman, who lives in a cottage close by,
came out and talked to me about my cough, and said if I took
&ree hairs out of a drover's dog's tail, just as he was going to
London after the drover, he would carry the cough away with
ton. * And those simple remedies, 9 she observed, ' would often
succeed when all the doctors were posed.' Well, we went on
talking to her and wandering about; then we sat down on a
tank, while I did a little coughing. It was the day before I
was requested to go home to my disconsolate iamWy. TSasa.^*
192 OFF THE SKHLLIGS.
saw Grainger coming. He ran very fast and looked very
He flung himself down beside us, panting. ' Well,' he criei
1 I've done it, and she won't have me ; that's one good t
But I'll never make an offer again, I can tell yon, whateve
may say.' * Won't have yon ? ' we all cried ont, screaming
laughter. * What ! have you gone and done it already f'
he said he had. He had met her in the shrubbery, ani
said, as we told him to say, that he was afraid she was g
thin. She said, ' What ! Grainger 1 ' And so then he conti
' I said to her what you told me about my hand and hear
all tliat ; and she won't have me said she should not tir
such a thing.' Well, we all shook hands with him. Tm ;
moral fellow, so I talked to him. I said to him, * Let thi
warning to you, never to trifle with the feelings of the 1
sex again.' He said it should."
" This is really true ?" I asked.
" Quite true. When he heard of it, Prentice almost gn
his teeth. We told it to him as if it was the most commoi
tiling in the world that Grainger should have made an offe
" Isn't this a queer boy ? " said Lou.
" Then Prentice should not be such an ass ! " he burst o
" Well, now we are going out for a walk, and Aunt Ch
too. I must go and find her," observed one of the girls.
" I shall accompany you. Some other time I shall tell
Graham all about Charlotte, and how she and Prentice
spond. Prentice is such a fool that he even steals other pe
jokes, and tells them all wrong. You know that the hoi
Daniel Mortimer, Esq., has one long wing? "
" Yes."
" Well, one day, when we were making some experiments
Prentice went up to my room for a bottle of steel-filing*
Giles met him wandering about ; so he said, by way of a
joke, ' Don't you know that, like the albatross, he sleeps o
wing 1 ' Well, Prentice actually was heard to tell that the
day thus, * My friend Mortimer, I daresay you know that
the albatross, ho he flies all night!' He had forgotte]
point of it. But he came here to lunch with Charlotte
after, and told St. George how old Tikey had bought
Irish pigs that would not stop in the sty. One ran awa;
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 193
jumped clean through a cottage window. Mr. Tikey, in full
chase, bolted in at the door and found the woman of the house
boiling a dozen, at least, of pheasants' eggs. * Boiling pheasants'
eggs ! ' said Giles ; ' foolish woman. Why, they were poached
already ! If I had such a pig as that/ he went on, ( I would
soon cure him.' Would you believe it ! Prentice looked earnestly
at him, and answered, 'Howl'"
If Prentice had not been one of the chief arbiters of my fate
I may say the chief arbiter I would not have recorded all
this nonsense of Valentine's. As it was, let me say, with due
solemnity, that this was the first time Prentice rose on my
horizon like a star.
CHAPTER XIX,
" Who would dote on thing so common
As mere outward handsome woman ? " Wither.
We set off for a walk, and I smelt the fresh earth and the spring
flowers. " Oh ! do let me garden a little ! " I exclaimed, as we
came to a border by which lay some gardening tools.
w To be sure, there is a rake and a trowel," said Aunt Christie ;
"rake away, my dear."
" No ; I must have the spade, it is so delightful to set one's
foot on it, and feel the earth coming up."
u Ah !" exclaimed Valentine, " and so you shall.
M '" Let spades be trumps," she said, and trumps they were.' Pope."
u Val ! how mean of you to begin in this way, when you
how you promised ! " said Liz sullenly.
" I said I would be sparing, just at first," retorted Valentine ;
"but now, Miss Graham, don't you think it is very mean of my
family to repress my rising genius ? Many would be proud of
it"
" What have they done ? "
" Done ! I say, Lou, how long is this to go on ? She has du^
up a lily-bulb."
194 OFF THE SKELL1GS,
" I will set it again ; now I have dug enough."
" Then we can proceed. Why, this is what they have done;
my vein lies in apt quotations, and they won't let me exercise
it."
" We didn't like it every day, and all day long," said Iii
" Now, I'll just lay the case before you, Dorothea. Emily knew
that when she went away we should be terribly oppressed, and
and so she made a rule "
" That the moment I began, if they could call out the author's
name, and say, ' Pax/ I was instantly to stop, if it was only a 1
the second word ; but, if they could not, I might go on to thi
end ; and, then, if I could not give his name, I might be pinched
or pricked, or otherwise tormented." He said this with an in
describable air of boyish simplicity.
Aunt Christie remarked that the rule sounded fair.
" Yes," he exclaimed ; " but they never can call out ' Pax,
for they are not at all well read, so the rule comes to nothing
unless St. George is present, and he is so quick, that I cai
hardly ever get out a word ; in fact, he often calls out what !
am going to say, and stops it; then of course I'm stumped
Now, what are you laughing at, Miss Graham ? "
" Because ' you are so extremely young, sir ' (Dickens)."
" I'm almost as old as you are," he replied.
Was there ever such an opportunity given for a retort ! Th
old aunt, with her fine Doric accent, instantly exclaimed, w '.
grant thee, for we are women when boys are but boys.' "
He danced round her, shouting out various names, but no
the right one ; and she went on till she had drawled out he
quotation : " Now, don't move your arms and legs about sc
laddie ; it's quite true, as Miss Graham will tell you, and y
should not have begun it."
" Yes," I went on, " ' We grow upon the sunny side of th
waU ' (Taylor)."
" Ah ! " said Valentine, calming down, after his exercise*
" I'm not up in that old fellow. Who would have thought it
' Thou art a caitiff and a lying knave, and thou hast stolen m;
dagger and my sword ; ' those are almost the only lines of hi
that I know ; but they're sweetly appropriate."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 1 95
"Well, now we shall have a little peace, I hope," said Liz,
"as he is conquered with his own weapons."
"Are you conquered?" I inquired. "I think you are only
sighing to yourself, 'Ah me ! what perils do environ the boy
that meddles with cold iron.' "
"No, it's not that," answered Valentine ; " it is that I am not
doing myself justice to-day."
He darted off to a little copse, and thrust his head into a
bosh,
" The Oubit grows," said Aunt Christie ; " he's a stately young
fellow."
" I said so," exclaimed Valentine, coming up ; " those precious
little lesser- white-throats are building there again."
" But you won't be so mean as to steal the eggs," said Liz ;
'I am sure you have eggs enough."
" Nay, nay," said Aunt Christie, unexpectedly taking Valen-
tine's part, " ye must not look for virtues that are contrary to all
nature. I should as soon expect to meet with a ghost that could
crack a nut, as a boy that could keep his hands off a nest of
young linties."
11 That's the second time I have been called a boy during the
last five minutes."
"Didn't ye invite me yourself, into your room last Christmas?"
exclaimed Aunt Christie ; " and wasn't it just choked with rub-
bish of every sort that boys delight in ? "
"He has such a value for some of his rare eggs," says Lou,
"that he takes them about with him, packed in bran, wherever
he goes."
"Well," answered Valentine, "I don't see that they are a
bit worse rubbish than many things that other people carry
about."
"Not a bit, Oubit, not a bit; the amount of rubbish that
some people are proud to carry is just amazing. It is a blessed
thing, indeed, that none of us can take our rubbish to another
w orld ; for if we could (I speak it reverently), some of the
many mansions ' would be little better than lumber-rooms."
"Why do you call him ' Oubit ' ? " I inquired.
"Mamma did," was the reply.
"But what is an Oubit?"
196 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" Nobody knows. St George thinks it's a hairy caterpillar;
but I say it must be a kind of newt"
By this time we had reached a little wood, as full as it would
hold of anemones, celandine, and wild daffodil. We gathered
quantities of them, and I felt the joy of roving about where I
would. This is a kind of bliss that no one can imagine who
has not been sometime held captive at sea. It kept me under
its influence till we had returned to the house and I had dressed
for dinner. Some neighbours had been invited to meet us. I
told Iiz and Lou that I had never been present at a dinner-
party in my life. They said this was not a real dinner-party;
it was only having a few friends to dinner, and that among
them would be only one interesting person. This was a
nephew of Mr. Mortimer's, a banker in a neighbouring town,
who lived a little way out of it, and had been invited to meet
Tom, because he was such a clever man, and because they
wanted to show him that they had clever friends themselves.
None of the guests had made their appearance when I came
into the drawing-room. Mrs. Henfrey and Valentine were down
there. I was asked how I had liked my walk, and when I had
answered, Mrs. Henfrey said, " And which way did Giles take
Mr. Graham?"
" As if you could not guess, sister ! " exclaimed Valentine.
The sister smiled, and I looked out at a window, and saw
a wide stretch of beautiful country, for the drawing-room was
upstairs, and I thought Tom must have been pleased, which ever
way he had walked.
"Of course," continued Valentine, "he went down the Wig-
field Eoad, that he might gaze on those chimneys and the
endeared outline of that stable."
" I thought she wasn't at home," said Mrs. Henfrey.
" Mind," observed Valentine, " I don't know that he went
that way ; I only feel sure of it. You ask him."
" Oh ! you feel sure, do you ? I thought Miss Dorinda was
not come home."
" No more she is ; but has the place where she hangs out no
charms for a constant mind ? "
" You are rude ! Hangs out, indeed ! I wonder what Miss
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 1 97
Graham thinks of you ! Ah ! here is Giles ! Well, which way
did you walk ? "
"Down the Wigfield Koad," replied Mr. Brandon.
" What attractions must a whole wig possess," said Valentine,
aside to me, "when 'beauty draws us with a single hair'?
(Pope.)"
" Is she handsome VI asked, also aside.
"She is."
Strange to say, this revelation as to the state of Giles' heart
was a considerable relief to me. I am quite sure I was glad.
I had always known, past the possibility of a doubt, that he
felt no attraction towards me ; but I felt a kind of enthusiasm
still about him, because he was philanthropical, and I thought
he had high motives, so I cared for him. In a certain sense he
was dear to me, and I did not wish to lose him out of my
world married or single ; but I had been teased about him, and
consequently, I had felt as if all the natural instinct of friend-
ship towards him must be smothered. Now I knew that he had
attractions elsewhere, and I felt calm security and ease flow into
my heart at the thought of it. " Now," I thought, " this annoy-
ance really is over." I have frequently thought so ; and yet it
kept cropping up again.
So I thought, as the visitors arrived. Talk flowed around
me, and I joined now and then in it ; but soon sank again into
a reverie, from which I only roused myself when I saw Mr.
Brandon standing before me offering his arm, and slightly smil-
ing at the sight of my deep abstraction.
Valentine followed with Lou. " I say, Miss Graham ! " he
exclaimed, as we began to descend.
" Yes."
"I'm so hungry there's an unutterable want and void a
gulf, a craving, and a sinking in, as when"
" Oh ! stop at least, I mean, Pax (Taylor), what you have
been about since you came home is very obvious."
Mr. Brandon glanced at me with amused surprise.
" Obvious," replied Valentine ; " of course it is. I would be loath
to cast away my speech ; for besides that it is excellently"
Here he was stopped by the " Pax."
" Now that is what I complain of," said his "btoft&x \ U M ^o\
198 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
will quote, what you say should not only be applicable, but droll
in the application."
" You're always stamping on me," said Valentine. Both lie
and Liz had a delightful little way of being sulky for an instant^
and then forgetting it again. So, as he came out of that sulks
and sat down beside me, I murmured to him: " '0 knight!
thou lack'st a cup of canary ; when did I see thee so put downf n
but I felt on the whole that quoting was a tiresome trick, and I
would not help him with it any more.
We passed rather a dull evening : the guests were familiar with
the household without being intimate ; every one present seemed
used to every one else. But, as the evening advanced, I again
had the pleasure of seeing Tom get into a most vehement argu-
ment. He and Mr. Brandon were on one side, and Mr. John
Mortimer on the other. The gold coinage of England, it appears,
is pure, but the silver they called not real money, but tokens.
I hardly understood enough to know which side triumphed, or
why it mattered. But it was delightful to see Tom so full of
fire.
When all the guests were gone, Valentine withdrew, and as
we still sat talking, he came in again with a hat in his hand,
and, walking up to his brother, held it out to him, just as a
beggar sometimes does in the street.
St. George, pretending to misunderstand him, leaned over it
as he sat, and looked down into the crown with an air of great
interest. " WeU ! " he said.
" A poor boy out of work, sir ! " said Valentine ; "no friends
to speak of ; earned nothing all the winter ; silver coinage of
this wretched country so debased that it's against my principles
to spend it. Nothing but gold can do me any good, sir."
" I never give gold to beggars."
" Well, hand out your purse, then, will you ? " said Valentine,
"and I'll promise only to take one"
St. George actually did so.
" But you had much better say two," continued Valentine ;
" they would last much longer."
" No, I won't," answered Giles, laughing ; " they would not
last a day longer."
Valentine thereupon returned the purse, and with the sove-
OFF THE SKELLIGS* 1 99
leign in his right hand, marched straight across the room to
his father. " Father," he exclaimed, in a loud, plaintive voice,
as of one deeply injured, " will you speak to Giles ? "
" Will I what ? " exclaimed his father, who had been amusing
himself by watching the transaction.
u Will you speak to Giles ? " repeated Valentine, in the same
loud, plaintive tone. " If this sort of thing is allowed to go on,
and I can get money from him whenever I like, it will perfectly
ruin the independence of my character." (He showed the sove-
reign in his palm.) " Giles has no strength of mind whatever,"
he continued, shaking his head in a threatening manner. " You'd
much better increase my allowance ; for if not, I'm very much
afraid this system will continue."
" Go to bed, sir ! go to bed ! " exclaimed his father. " You
are an impudent young dog, if ever there was one, and you know
very well that you are not to sit up late while you have this
cough upon you."
Valentine retired with great docility, and the next morning
when I woke I saw Mrs. Brand holding a great bunch of prim-
roses and violets. She said she had picked them up on the mat
outside my door. A little twisted note was stuck into the midst
of them. I opened it, and it ran thus
" When I awoke, I said to myself, ' Ale, Squeerey ? ' (Dickens)
meaning primroses. The same agreeable party answered, with
promptitude, 'Certainly, a glassful ' (ditto). You should have
had more, only I have been studying you can guess what. His
own, V. M."
In due time I came down, and as I entered, heard Mr.
Mortimer saying, " Well, if he is not likely to be in time, we
must have prayers without him."
He was evidently Mr. Brandon : every one else was present.
So we had prayers ; the venerable white head looking more
reverend than ever as it bent over the book.
We then proceeded to the dining-room to breakfast, and Mrs.
Henfrey said, " I don't quite understand this matter yet."
" Why, sister," said Valentine, " it is simple enough. Giles
was out, and saw this boy stuck in the boggy ditch ; upon which,
throwing himself into an attitude, he very naturally exclaimed,
200 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
-
1 Though thou art of a different church, I will not leave thee ia
the lurch/ "
" 111 venture to say he said nothing of the kind," said Mifc
Henfrey very tartly. " It was the milk-boy, was it notf"
" Yes."
"Well, his parents are not Dissenters. Stuff and nonsense!
They only go to meeting now and then."
" But he must have said something," argued Valentine. " He
may have changed the word ' church ' to ' parish/ and added, 'I
will not leave thee in the marish.' "
"It's extraordinary, I am sure," said Mrs. Henfrey, with a
slight groan, " how the poets came to write so many lines, as if
on purpose for him."
" Well, my boy," said Mr. Mortimer, " now suppose you give
us a sensible account of the matter, without any more of this
foolery."
" I don't know any more, father, excepting that I met Giles
marching home covered with mud and clay up to his waistcoat-
pockets."
Just then the old thin footman came in, and was asked what
he knew of the matter. His reply, given with a toast-rack in
his hand, ran thus
" Yes, sir, Mr. Brandon, sir, was going along just where the
ditch is so wide and boggy, and he heard a boy a-hollering and
a-hollering, and he found the milk-boy was stuck in the clay.
He had tried to jump the ditch instead of going round by the
plank. That was how it came to pass ; and the more he worked
his legs about, the deeper he got, until the ditch was full of
puddles of milk. And so, sir, Mr. Giles dragged the boy out,
and he had just got him on the bank when I came up, for I
had heard the hollering as I went nigh, with the rolls. Says
Mr. Giles to me, * Just scrape the poor child, Sam ; here's six-
pence to pay for his milk. And let this be a lesson to you,
youngster,' he says, 'never to jump over a bog when there ia a
plank near at hand.' So, then, sir " (here the footman uttered a
laugh of sudden delight) "so, then, sir, Mr. Giles went back
a few paces, and give a little run to jump over in the very same
place, but the bank being soft and rotten, broke with him, and
he slipped down backwards, and"
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 201
"And tumbled in himself ! " exclaimed Mr. Mortimer in high
delight. " Ha, ha ! Well, such things will happen now and
foen."
" Yes, sir, Mr. Brandon tumbled in backwards, and sat him-
self down in the very thickest of the bog, and splashed himself
all over with milk and mud." Here the old man, unable to
restrain his mirth, retreated hastily, and Mr. Brandon came in.
"Well, Giles, my boy," said his stepfather, after the cus-
tomary morning greeting, " how did you get out of that bog ?
Sam has told us all the rest."
"Did he tell you how, in my adversity, he and that little
ungrateful wretch stood on the bank perfectly convulsed with
laughter, and how I was so excessively surprised when I found
myself sitting in the bottom of the ditch, that I did not stir for
a full half-minute, but sat staring at them with appealing
mildness "
They all laughed but Mrs. Henfrey ; and she, not in the least
amused, inquired how he got out, after all.
" Oh ! I floundered up, and Sam held his stick. That part of
the business was soon managed."
" ' Let this be a lesson to you, youngster/ " said Valentine,
with a kind of respectful gravity, " ' never to jump over a bog
when there is a plank near at hand ' (Brandon)."
He took care to speak loud enough for his father to hear, and
in the plaintive voice that he generally affected when making a
joke.
" Come, come, sir," said the old man, secretly enjoying it,
" let me have no more of this. Giles is a great deal older than
you are, sir."
The elder brother said nothing, but he looked at Valentine
with a significant smile, and proceeded to help himself to the
viands and talk with Tom over their last night's argument with
John Mortimer. The English sovereign, it appears, is worth
much the same all the world over, but the English shilling is
alloyed, and this, it seems, is not done with any deliberate
intention of cheating the English people, but from motives of
policy. Now, Tom and Mr. Brandon had sagely remarked that
so long as anybody would give a sovereign for twenty shillings,
it mattered nothing" to the people that they were not isaX^ ^q^'Ocl
202 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
it; but Mr. John Mortimer had maintained that it did matter;
it mattered very much to everybody, but especially to thfl
poor.
Tom declared his intention of going into the subject, but to
was not merely because Mr. John Mortimer had differed from
them, but because he had talked of the whole of that wonderful
invention, called money, as if a great part of the prosperity of
nations depended on what their money was made of, and how much
they were charged for the making of it. Moreover, in an evil
hour for himself, he had declared that these things were bo
simple that he wondered how there could be any difference of
opinion about them.
This discussion being not of much interest to any of us but to
me, and that only because it had roused Tom, we all retired to
the little morning-room except Tom and Mr. Brandon, who had
not finished his breakfast, and here Valentine brought a volume
of " Telemachus " to his sister Lou, and sitting down by her,
began to read aloud, with much mouthing and a particularly
bad accent.
" You see, Miss Graham," said Mrs. Henfrey, casting a re-
proachful glance at him, "this young gentleman makes no
stranger of you."
I said, truly enough, that I was glad of it, and she was quite
right. We might have been staying there a year for any dif-
ference we made in any of their arrangements or any of their
gentle, easy household ways.
Valentine remarked that Giles had threatened not to take him
to Prance that year unless he would improve his French, and he
stumbled through a page or two, being continually corrected by
Lou.
"It's perfectly abominable!" she exclaimed. "You will
pronounce every e impartially, and how often do I tell you not
to divide the words ! "
Valentine groaned : " What with your being so particular, and
this fellow being such a shocking muff, it is too much for my
spirits. Now, then ' Mais dans votre bonheur souvenez vous
du malheureux Narbal et ne cessez jamais de m'aimer. Quand
il eut acheve* ces paroles je Tarrosai de mes larmes ' (ugh !) ; ' de
profonds soupirs m'emp^chaient de parler ' (hang this fellow, he's
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 203
always blubbering !) * et nous embrassions en silence. 9 Miss
Giaham, did you ever read ' Telemachus ' through ? "
"Yes."
" Does he find his papa ? "
"I shall not tell you; that might rob the story of its thrill-
ing interest."
"Well, I can't stand much more of this sobbing and crying.
Homer himself is bad enough, and Pope makes him worse.
They cry ' quarts : '
tt n
Tears his cheeks bedewed,
Nor less the father poured a social flood,
They wept abundant and they wept aloud.' "
Tom and Mr. Brandon now came in.
"Ah!" said Aunt Christie, partly addressing them, "and
these are the classics, ye see these are what you spend your
young lives, all of you, in getting a smattering of."
"But it must be done," answered Valentine, "and as this
fellow waters all the strangers with his tears, I really am afraid
he will pour out such a flood if he meets his father, that the
consequences to that old buffer will be serious."
" A mere smattering," repeated Aunt Christie, nodding at them;
"and so, as they can't bear to feel that all their time has been
lasted, they pretend afterwards to think highly of the classics,
though they know better. Why, what's in this Homer that they
uiake such a work about ? What's Achilles but a sort of glori-
fied navvy ? He kills his meat as well as his man ! Priam runs
a *ay at first (that I never could get over), and what's it all for ?
"Way, two women, neither of whom is any better than she
should be."
"You shall write another 'Shorter Catechism,'" said Mr.
Brandon, " and we shall all be bound to learn it."
"First question," said Tom blandly: " Where is Scotland
tituated ? Answer : At the top of England."
"Ay, indeed, and ye are very right," said the old aunt,
" Second question," added Mr. Brandon : " What is a school ?
Answer : A place where they teach boys to be pagans every day,
Qui tell them to be Christians once a week?
204 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
He then walked up to the window, and, saying what a beauti-
ful morning it was, asked if we should like to have it open, and
was just opening it, when I, having nothing to do, ran upstairs
for my work-box. In less than three minutes I came down
again, and outside the door, which was shut, stood Valentine
panting on the mat.
"It's locked," he said; "the door's locked, and you can't
get in."
" Locked ? "
" Yes : that villain Giles, how he comes to be so strong I can't
think. I was as quiet as possible, reading away at my French,
and he came behind me, and in the twinkling of an eye, before
I could speak, he folded me up, and I was outside the window
sitting among the tulips and things. Look at my coat. I'm all
covered with tulip-dust."
" Dear me ! I wish I had seen it. Did he send you flying
out, or only lay you down like a parcel ? "
" Oh ! how base some people are ! Giles, Giles, sir (he called
through the keyhole), you've locked out Miss Graham."
" No, stop," I said, " as we are locked out, suppose we steal a
march on them, and go for a walk this lovely morning."
" You won't do it 1 "
" I will, if you will."
He expressed his delight in some strange fashion. I ran up-
stairs, was soon equipped, and off we set, on one of the sweetest
spring mornings that ever smiled itself away.
The shadows of dark-green leaves are sweet and solemn, but
the shadows of pink and white blossoms are the rarest and most
delicate in all nature. We heard all about us the piping of
blackbirds, and the near humming of contented bees. We got
into the orchard and down to a little stream that bordered it,
and when I saw the glittering water-buttercups, the mosses, and
all the trees so ghostly fair, I felt what an ecstasy there is in
youth and spring.
Then we got under a great pear-tree, smelt its blossom, and
looked up through it to the pale blue sky, and I was so oppressed
with happiness that I could hardly speak, and for a long time
could not leave the enchanted spot ; the common world I felt
would seem so plain and chill after it.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 205
But we did leave it, and I found the firwood beyond almost
as beautiful ; it abounded with the nests of thrushes and linnets,
and round its edges we gathered violets ; then we came back to
the orchard, sat down on a bench, and my heart kept repeating,
"How great is His goodness, and how great is His beauty !"
Then suddenly Valentine said
" Do you think people are better or worse than they appear ? "
" Do you mean people in general, or ourselves 1 "
" Oh ! well, I suppose I meant you and me."
" I think just now we must be better than we appear ; we
must have some better thoughts than any words we have said."
"But this is such a wonderful morning so lovely that it
makes one feel quite solemn."
" Yes, and everything so happy and so good."
" Ah ! well, I wish I did not live with such extremely good
people ; such people, I mean, as my father, and Giles, and Miss
Dorinda. When you see how they go on you will wish the
same, unless you are a very excellent person yourself, and I
don't see that you are."
" Oh ! but I always thought it helped one on to be with such
people."
" No, it doesn't. They have found out all sorts of ways, both
of doing good and being good ; they go into motives, and they
think they must govern their bad feelings. Well, I should never
have found out such things if I had been let alone, therefore it
would not have been my duty to practise them. Now they
stare me in the face, and I often feel miserable for fear I ought
to be different."
" Oh ! you are quite a child in spite of your height," was my
thought ; " you have no reserve even with a stranger." But I
answered, " Surely that is better than not thinking about it."
" It is very disagreeable," he replied, " to feel that one gets
worse as one gets older."
" Disagreeable ! " I replied. " How can you use a word so
inadequate to express the feeling ? "
" Well, you know what I mean."
" Yes ; but when we feel that, we know that we can have
help to become better if we will ask for it."
"Ah! yes," he answered naively ; "but theii^ou^o^ys^
206 OFF THE SKELL1GS.
would have to ask for it quite sincerely, and without any reser-
vation. Do you think I look as if I was going to be a clergymanr
" Not in the least, as far as I can judge."
"But I am; at least if I can make up my mind to it. M*
always wished it so much, and so does my father."
" I do not see that your being so fond of fun is at all against
it."
" No so Giles says and some fellows must be clergymen,
you know. I've got to decide during the next few months, and
if I really feel I ought not, Giles says he shall back me. Isn't
it odd, my talking in this way to you ? "
" Very odd ; I was just thinking so."
" I never do, excepting to him, and not to him if I can help
it, because he takes advantage of me afterwards ; when I don't
work he reminds me of things we have talked about. I have
no business to be out here now with you, I ought to be doing
my Greek."
" Bring it here then, and we will do it together."
" Ah ! I want to hear you read Greek ; but will you promise
to wait for me ? "
I promised, and while he was gone sat under the pear-tree
delighted with life and spring.
Tramp, tramp, came a slow foot. I wished Valentine had
not been so expeditious; but I did not look round. Something
was being read or said aloud, and I soon observed that it was
by a far different voice from the cracked one I had been listening
to that morning.
The steady foot came on ; there was a narrow path before the
bench, and I saw Mr. Brandon advancing, looking grave and
abstracted. He was conning or reading a speech from some
written notes in his hand, and was perfectly unconscious of my
presence as I sat buried among the bending pear-boughs.
I heard a sentence as he advanced. He did not look up, and
would have passed, but that he had to push aside a branch, in
doing which he glanced off his notes, and beheld me within a
yard of his face.
He started up again with no little surprise, and sent the bough.
swinging in his haste, so that it scattered me and the grass with
a shower of little flower pearls.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 207
"Miss Graham ! who would have thought it and all alone ! "
"All alone : that is no misfortune. I am very happy."
"Yes," he answered, "I see you are. Set in a white world
ot blossom, and lost in maiden meditation ; but why did you
come here V
"Because I was locked out of the morning-room."
" A sufficient cause, and one that ought to make me ashamed of
myself, but does not ; for if I may judge by appearances, you
are very much indebted to me."
" Yes, it is so long since I set my feet on the soft delightful
sward, that I wish I might stay here all day."
" You were led here by instinct ? "
" No, by Valentine ; and he is now gone to fetch his Greek
books, to do some construing with me."
"What a delightful camaraderie seems to be established
already between yon two ! "
" Birds of a feather, you know."
" You are joking ; you cannot really feel any similarity and
equality."
Being touched here on a weak point, I replied that I felt my-
self to be a grown-up woman while he was only a boy. " But
he is a very delightful boy," I went on, " for he likes me and
likes to be with me."
" In my eyes he is a charming young fellow, a joyous, idle,
frank, unreasonable young dog; but is every one, even a boy,
charming in your eyes if he likes you and likes to be with you ? "
"I don't know. I should think not. But this sudden
friendliness I have not met with hitherto; it has the charm
of novelty."
" That charm," he said quietly, " will most likely soon wear
off."
He stood before me pressing the moss with his foot, and with
the faint shadows of the blossom flickering on his face. I think
he was a little impatient to go on, but he could not very well
leave me by myself any more than I could tell him I liked just
as well to be alone.
" What a time that boy is ! " he presently said, looking along
the path, and lo ! the expression of his face changed suddenly
to one of considerable embarrassment, his open ioraY&aA to^a&^
2o8 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
slightly, and he made a hasty movement as if he would have
retreated, but checked himself.
At the same instant I heard several voices, Mr. Mortimer's
among them, and presently the fine white head emerged from
the entanglement of blossoming boughs ; then Uz and Louis*
appeared, and lastly Valentine.
Giles stood his ground.
" Bless me," exclaimed Mr. Mortimer, " how pleasant it is out
here ! I thought you were getting up your lecture, Giles," and
thereupon he sat down by me and cleared his throat loudly, and
I thought significantly.
" So I was," answered the stepson, " and coming accidentally
down here, I found Miss Graham sitting all alone."
At that ill-advised but most true word " accidentally," both
the sisters and Mr. Mortimer openly smiled I was not at all
put out of countenance ; " the endeared outlines of those chim-
neys " were present to my thoughts, if not to theirs.
" Well," said Valentine, excusing himself for having left me,
" I am sure I have not been gone a quarter of an hour, and I
should have been here before, only that I could not find my
lexicon."
" We must try to forgive you, my boy," said Mr. Mortimer,
with a twinkle in his eye, "and so must Giles. A quarter of an
hour is not long, after all, for him to be kept from his lecture."
Here, taking up the defence of the oppressed, I made a remark
as to how I had been locked out, and this gradually drew on the
whole story.
" Where is young Graham ? " asked Mr. Mortimer.
" He is in my room," said St. George, " hunting up something
about the currency. We are going to dine with John Mortimer
to-morrow, before the lecture."
"Oh! he will go with you to the lecture, will he?" said
Louisa.
" Yes ; are you going ? "
" We shall, if Dorothea would like to go."
" There are to be some stunning illustrations, I can tell you,"
said Valentine, and Mr. Brandon withdrew.
"You'll see it reported in one of the county papers next
Thursday," remarked Valentine. " St. George will figure as our
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 209
Wanted what's-his-name. ' We have to report another success-
ful effort from the son of that spirited magistrate and consistent
Pink, who, living not a hundred miles from Wigfield, in patri-
archal comfort/ &c Then at the end you will read how St.
George held his audience enthralled, and surpassed himself in
lively eloquence and appropriate illustration : ' We are happy to
find that Mr. Brandon has entirely recovered after his late battle
with the turbulent waves of the Atlantic, and that his adherence
to the Pink cause in this borough is as stanch as ever.' "
" Sir, you are impertinent," said his father, who had taken
care not to speak till he had finished all he had to say.
" Yes, father," replied Valentine humbly, " I am sorry to say
that is too often the case," and he shook his head and sighed.
Mr. Mortimer looked at me with an air of amusement, that
seemed to say, " Isn't he a funny young fellow ? " and continued
"Giles, sir, is an honour to us all; I wonder you are not
proud of your elder brother ! "
" I am," answered Valentine ; " I think it must be my being
puffed up with pride about my relations that makes me so in-
sufferable."
Mr. Mortimer now declared himself rested, and his two step-
daughters bore him off, leaving Valentine and me to our task.
So we began to read, and I soon found myself in the position
of instructress ; his talent evidently was not for languages, and
as a pupil I found him absolutely provoking; he would not
attend to his book ; he stopped so often to talk to compliment
and in his horribly cracked voice to sing little snatches of
songs, that at last we got into decided dispute, for he was per-
fectly careless and indifferent, and I was very much in earnest.
" Oh, come," I exclaimed, as with a ridiculously broken voice
he sang, " If she be not kind to me, what care I how fair she
be ! " "If you do not give your mind to what you are about,
you will never come to any good."
He stared at me with surprise.
I was fluttering the leaves of his lexicon, vainly investigating
a point that he chose to consider settled, and the more I searched
the more he sang, until at last, thoroughly roused and rather
indignant, I gave him a good scolding, and asked him what he
could be thinking of to trifle away his time in tiaaX ^wj.
210 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
He turned his clear eyes upon me, ceased to sing, and gradfr
ally arrived at the conclusion that I really was giving him t
lecture, that I meant what I said, and that I really did regard
the reading, not as play, hut as work. So he withdrew his idle
hand from his waistcoat-pocket, took the book gravely from me,
and went on construing for full ten minutes with exemplary
care and a kind of urgency and energy that surprised me.
At the end of that time I heard footsteps, and saw a little
smile begin to tremble over the lips of my companion, but he
did not pause until his brother came up and stopped before us ;
then he clapped to the books, and exclaimed with a burst of
laughter, " She says I ought to be ashamed of myself ! "
" So you ought ! " I answered audaciously, but obliged to
laugh too.
" She says I am not in earnest about anything, and that I shall
certainly go to the dogs if I don't mend my ways ! "
" I uttered no such words, but I said what implied as much;
and so I think."
When I saw Mr. Brandon's amused face I felt suddenly
ashamed of the warmth I had displayed, and the unguarded
things I had said to my two days' acquaintance.
He put aside the pear boughs, came close, and sat down on a
tree stump at our feet, folding his arms and looking up at us.
" It appears that you and Miss Graham have been quarrel-
ling ? " he remarked.
" Not at all ! " I replied ; " but I was reading with your
brother, and he would not give his attention to what he was
about, so"
I hesitated. " So you scolded him ? "
" Yes," said Valentine ; " she was in such a passion ! She is
quite flushed now, as you can see."
St. George glanced at my face.
" Well, Oubit," he said, " I hope you appreciate the compli-
ment."
" Compliment ! Do you think I like to be scolded ? "
" Don't you like that a lady should take enough interest in
you to be vexed when you behave like a child ? "
" The compliment was of my paying," said Valentine, with
an easy smile. "I was naturally occupied with her and not
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 211
*ith the lexicon, and she got quite indignant roused her eyes
flashed, and she said such things ! I declare she made my cheeks
tingle. Miss Graham ! "
"Yes."
M I declare I thought for a moment you were going to cry.?
Oh ! what an accusation of childishness, and I had meant to
be so old in all my ways ! I looked up, and Mr. Brandon met
my eyes with a sweet and tender smile, such as one bestows
sometimes on a dear child, and I thought how hard it was that
I could neither look like a grown-up woman nor behave like one.
" I have often told you," he said to his brother, " that your
want of earnestness is ruinous deplorable ! Now you have
come in contact with an earnest nature, which cannot endure
trifling where grave interests are concerned. See how you have
shocked it ! "
" Well," he answered, " if Miss Graham would take me in
hand, perhaps I could catch a little energy from her. I declare
I felt quite elevated when she fired up. I experienced a kind
of noble rage against myself and everything. If she could put
me into a fury and reproach me every day, I could do any-
thing."
" Probably Miss Graham has something better to do than to
attend to your Greek."
I was glad of this proposal, and said I should like very much
to read with him if he really meant to work, and would promise
that there should be no more such ridiculous scenes as we had
just enacted.
" What ! you really will read with me ? " he exclaimed.
" Yes, of course; I scarcely ever have the least chance of being
of use ; I cannot think of throwing this little one away. It is
so very unsatisfactory to live entirely for one's self."
" There ! you got that notion out of a book. That is the first
thing I have heard you say that did not sound natural and real.
My dear lord, clear your mind of cant (the Great Samuel)."
His brother tried to snub him.
" How do you know what is natural to a conscientious person ?
That feeling, that notion, does come out of a book, but not the
sort of book you mean."
" I meant one of those books that Liz and "Lou are fco VstA. s\
212 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
crying over a story of heroines impossibly good and refined,
and yet invariably miserable."
"Or of a fair girl all feeling," said the Oubit, sighing; "a
creature so horribly conscientious that she nearly cries if a fellow
does but read a line out of some heathen Greek without bending
his whole soul to the task."
" I am not expected to recognise any one that I know in the
disguise of a girl all f eeling ! "
" I said a fair girl."
" And I am not fair and not all feeling. I was cross when
you were so provoking, that was alL"
" You are not fair ? "
" No, I am not, and I do not say that to provoke a denial I
do not care much about appearances at least "
" That sentence began in a very promising manner," said Mr.
Brandon ; " but if you think you are not fair, how odd that you
should not care ! "
"You think, then, that if you were a woman you should
care?"
" I am sure of it."
" Perhaps you are not thinking of what I meant."
" I was thinking of that delicacy, that attractiveness and grace
in short, of that beauty which distinguishes your sex."
" But I was only thinking of that beauty which distinguishes
one of my sex over others."
" And I understand you . to say that you do not care about
it?"
"I do not think it would suit me at alL It would want
taking care of, like any other gift of God ; I should have to
change my whole manner and conduct on purpose to harmonise
with it. Yes, I think I am glad it is not mine."
"Your present style and manner, then, would not suit a
beautiful young woman ? "
" No, because it always shows that I am very desirous to
please."
"Ah!" said Valentine, "and that you think, if you were
beautiful, would turn poor fellows' heads."
" You talk," said Mr. Brandon to me, " as if beauty was a
fact and not an opinion,"
OFF THE SEELLIGS. 213
"It does not much matter which it is, if almost all agree as
to its absence or presence."
"Very true," he answered, and laughed as if a good deal
amused.
"I say, St. George," said Valentine, "I believe when Miss
Graham made that incautious speech, she only meant that she
didn't cate what you and I thought of her face."
There was a pause.
u She cannot deny it. I'll give her while I count twelve to
do it in."
I looked up at the tall boy and then down at Miss Dorinda's
lover, and it seemed to me that there was no need to deny it.
To have beauty and captivate Valentine would be very awkward,
for I should not be captivated in my turn ; to have it and be seen
by Dorinda would perhaps make her tremble, and would certainly
make her try to prevent my obtaining a friend.
" There ! " said Valentine, " the numbers are counted out ;
she lives and makes no sign."
" Yon need not think my indifference is magnanimous ; it is
only natural."
Valentine laughed. " I know you consider me nothing but a
boy, and I do not care, but really I think you are ten times
better looking than many indeed, than most girls far better
looking than Fanny Wilson or Jane either."
A bell had been tinkling for some time, and I asked what it
was, upon which they both rose, and saying that it was the
lunch-bell, proposed that we should return to the house.
CHAPTER XX,
' A lame black bottle preaching like a fish ;
A squinting planet in a gravy -dish :
Amorphous masses cooing to a monk ;
Two fine old crusty problems, very drunk;
A pert parabola flirting with the Don ;
And two Greek grammars, with their war-paint on."
Valentine walked on before us, and set the boughs swixv^a%
as he passed .Jfh Brandon walked with me, ani ai\fc fc. &s&
214 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
silence, looking up, I saw that he was considering me with
attention.
" I know you are not affected," he said, " and so," he con-
tinued, after another pause, " I feel sure that in talking of your
face, as we have just been doing, you said what you rally
thought."
He spoke in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, and I replied,
" Exactly so."
"I flatter myself that I am discerning," he went on; "but
if you venture to say such things before some others of my sex,
you will certainly be misunderstood."
I answered, " Your brother is not very discerning ; yet he did
not misunderstand, and he agrees with me evidently in opinion."
" Yes," he answered, and laughed, " I really think he does.
I wondered whether he meant to imply that he thought me
pretty, but as I could not think of anything else to say, I asked,
" What is Fanny Wilson like ? "
" She has all the beauty inseparable from a very large fortune.
Looked at apart from that, I should say she was a heavy-footed
girl. Jane Wilson is a fine creature; she weighs about ten
stone."
" A very proper weight, if she is tall I rather envy her. If
I were as heavy as that, I should never be afraid to go on deck,
even in a stiff gale."
He laughed at the inconsistency of this speech with my pro-
fessed indifference. So did I when he had pointed it out.
" If you envy, you are ungrateful," he continued, as dispassion-
ately as if he had been speaking to his grandmother. It was
just the sort of manner I thought that a man should have who,
while his heart was given to one woman, felt called upon to tell
another what he thought of her face. " But I quite agree with
you," he continued, " that beauty is of less consequence than
some other advantages."
"Oh, then," I thought, "Dorinda is a plain girl, and he
knows it."
" But if it is ridiculous for an ugly woman to give herself the
airs of conscious beauty," he went on, " it is equally almost
equally " At this word he paused, and seemed to consider,
but not finding what he wanted, n& ^s^tA!^ attacked the
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 215
subject in another place. " I think you are too much resolved
to forget how very much people differ respecting beauty."
"HI thought they were likely to differ in my case I should
not talk as I have done, because it would appear as if I did it to
elicit a flattering assurance of dissent."
" That is exactly what I wanted you to say. It remains only
to show that they do so differ a remarkable thing certainly.
But I am an instance of the difference I have suggested. My
eyes justify me to myself, and in spite of all your convictions,
I shall persist in my own, for if I had to point out one of the
most attractive faces I ever saw such is my perversity (such
my bad taste, that quiet smile seems to say) that I should un-
doubtedly and confidently mention yours."
He spoke so composedly and dispassionately, that for a moment
I felt almost inclined to argue the point with him but no, that
would be no use, and I felt that my intelligent theories on this
point were upset. It was natural not to care for beauty if it
was a mere circumstance in the possessor, but not if it was a
cherished opinion in the beholder. I felt that the kind of
attractiveness he had acknowledged was precious ; it was quite
inconsistent with the least disapproval or even indifference.
My world was so very contracted that few people could know
or care for me, and this glimpse so unconsciously given of the
place I must have held in his memory filled me with elation.
"I have a friend," he presently said, "whom I should so
much like you to see. I wonder what you would think of her
face?"
" Do you consider her very beautiful, then ? "
" Oh no," he replied. " Oh ! certainly not, but I consider the
expression of her countenance heavenly."
" And do you think it the reflection of her mind ? "
Yes."
" What is her name ? "
" Miss Dorinda Braithwaite."
The name I had expected to hear, but I was struck, as I had
been before, with the formal manner in which the whole family
spoke of this girL
We came in.
14 Dick is here/ 1 said Lou ; "he is come to \\hdl&\l w
2l6 OFF THE SKELLIG&
Dick, otherwise Richard a Court, was a small, fairhaired young
clergyman, who seemed to be on familiar terms with the whole
family, and Mrs. Henfrey, taking me and Tom into her con-
fidence, let us understand that we were to make our lunch
last as long as possible, because it would be Dick's dinner, and
she was afraid he did not always have a good dinner when at
home in his lodgings, because he gave away so much of his
income in charity.
We were followed into the dining-room by a large awkward
dog, who came slouching in with his head down, and an air of
shame most evident and ridiculous.
Nobody took any notice of him at first, and he stood at the
end of the table by Mr. Brandon's chair silent and shamefaced,
but when the carving was over Aunt Christie exclaimed, " Why,
there's old Smokey, I declare ! "
The dog took no notice of her, and his master, leaning towards
him, said, in a tone of friendly remonstrance, " Now, Smokey,
what do you mean by this ridiculous behaviour ? I am all right,
old boy."
The dog, putting his paws on the arm of the chair, grunted
out a few inarticulate sounds that seemed full of love and en-
treaty, whereupon the master said, " You know as well as I do
that you have no business here. Don't I pay you a visit every
day, and don't I always tell you that you are not to come and
hunt me up in the house ? Answer me that."
Smokey gave a yap, which was declared by the family to be
his way of testifying assent.
" Oh ! he's a wise beast," said Aunt Christie. " I never saw
the match of him."
" Well," continued his master, " you can go to the magistrate,
and ask if you may stop this once."
Thereupon the great creature came tearing round the table,
barking furiously.
" Smokey wants to know if he may stop," said St. George.
"Well," answered the old man, looking down into the
creature's eyes, " if he's a good dog, he may."
Perfectly understanding the permission, Smokey came back
with a much more confident air, and pushing up his head under
his master's arm contrived to impede the carving a good deal ;
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 21 7
round, if he was called, to the various members of the
family, and receiving doles from them with sober contentment,
and making various little yaps, snuffles, and whines when talked
to, which they declared had distinct meanings.
"They know we can talk," observed Liz, "so they pick up
our tones, and pretend to do it too. It's my belief that they
think they do talk."
" They live in the presence of their gods," said Tom ; " they
ought to have one privilege more than we have, to make
amends."
"To make amends for the will of their Maker concerning
them, yon appear to mean," said Dick a Court, with a severe
glance at Tom; and he began with great sincerity, but in a
wonderfully commonplace manner, to enlarge on the certainty
that all the creatures are in their right places.
" Dick," said St. George, when this had been going on for
rather a long time, " don't be didactic, there's a good fellow ;
yon forget that we men have completely taken our favourites
among the creatures out of the places we found them in."
" What does he say ? " asked Mr. Mortimer, who had caught
a few words.
St. George raised his voice a little, and replied, " I was telling
Dick he mustn't be didactic ; you're not used to that sort of
thing, are you, my liege? you can't stand it."
" No, Dick, no ; better not," said Mr. Mortimer, putting up
his eyeglass and openly contemplating his stepson. " He's quite
right, Dick ; nobody's ever didactic here."
" We could not have taken them out of their places unless it
had been ordained," said Dick.
" Then it was ordained, for we have done it ; and we have
filled them with yearnings towards us, and wants, and loves,
that otherwise they never could have known."
" And we have demoralised them too in some respects," said
Tom ; " their love for us renders them unable to be faithful to
one another."
"Yes," said Mr. Mortimer, to whom this was repeated.
" Smokey would tear his own mother to pieces if she growled at
Valentine or Giles."
" You think they are in much the same \osv\\otl \5aX ^^
2l8 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
should be," I asked, " if angels lived visibly on earth among us,
and chose out little human children here and there to take to
their homes and feed with angels' bread, and love and make
much of ? "
" Yes," said St. George ; " and I am thankful we do not live
with such a race."
" What contempt we should feel for one another if we did 1*
remarked Tom.
Little Dick actually gasped with horror at these two speeches*
" What can you be thinking of to talk thus of such a blessed
possibility ? " he exclaimed.
" I talk according to my lights," said Tom ; " and as it is not
ordained that I should live with angels, surely I may say that I
am glad."
" Call them angels call them whatever you like," said St
George ; " but if it is allowed that they are to be as much above
us as we are above the dogs, I do not see how any higher religion
than fealty to them could be possible to us."
" Besides," continued Tom, " such brutes as we have tamed
are influenced not only by our acts but by our intentions. We
intend that they shall stay in certain fields ; we put a trumpery
little paling round them, or a thin hedge, or a shallow ditch;
they are not consciously obedient, but our will was that they
should stay there ; they generally yield to this thought that was
in our hearts when we made the barrier, and it becomes, in con-
sequence, insuperable to them. It would be the same with us
if we lived with our betters."
" Now, Smokey," said the master, in a confidential tone to
his slave, " we are going out for a walk, Smokey ; we shall go
through the yard. You had better look out." The dog retired
with alacrity. "I am not at all sure," he went on, "that
Smokey did not know we were talking of him and his people.
I think he did, and felt sneaky in consequence."
Tom answered by broaching another of his favourite notions.
It was his belief, he said, that human spirits were perceptible to
most other intelligences, though not to their fellows. "We
appear to ourselves only to animate these bodies, but to the con-
sciousness of other creatures we spiritually overflow them. Just
as the scents of flowers pervade their neighbourhood^ emanations
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 219
from our spirits float in our neighbourhood. That is another
Way in which dominion is secured to us."
"Then what do you think our souls look like?" asked Lou
quite seriously.
He hesitated.
"I should not wonder if they give out a sort of light," she
continued. " They might, you know, though it might be too
faint for our mortal eyes to see it."
Tom replied that he had not considered that part of the
subject, and the party broke up. The men and dogs shortly
went across country together, and Mr. Mortimer took Lou and
me for a walk through a pretty dingle, and then past the two
cottages with green doors, finally to a deep natural rent, which
in the Isle of Wight would have been called a chine. In one
part it contracted so much that a bridge was thrown across it ;
and looking down as we stood on this bridge, we saw Tom
sitting below us smoking on a hurdle, Mr. Brandon coming
along at a good pace, evidently measuring the length of the
hollow by his stride, and Mr. a Court setting down the results
in a natty little note-book.
" What are you about, my dear St. George ? " said Mr. Mor-
timer.
St. George not hearing, Valentine, who had joined us, shouted
down the message. " Hi ! papa wants to know what you're
up to!"
Giles looked up and laughed, lifting his hat to us, and point-
ing out an old woman who was coming to meet us. He then
went striding on under the bridge, and I saw why he had be-
come a different person. Our friend of the yacht always used
to put his feet to the ground with peculiar caution, and liked to
wear slippers whenever he could. Even at Chartres he always
stepped as lightly as possible, and with a caution which altered
his gait.
The old woman, who was very comfortably dressed and was
evidently in great indignation, came up to Mr. Mortimer, and in
her country dialect demanded his assistance. It was just what
Valentine had said in a joke the night before : " Do'ee speak to
the young landlord," she implored.
Mr. Mortimer leaned down his grand white \ieaA axA^stes&sA.
220 OFF THE SEELLIGS.
with all courtesy. " He was so masterful, nobody could do any-
thing with him. And she went grumbling on. * Times and
times and times he had chevied her pigs over the bridge ; ay,
times and times, when they were feeding in the stubble, and she
never said a word. So had Master Valentine, as he very well
knew."
I thought she spoke, and Mr. Mortimer listened to the account
of these delinquencies as if they might have taken place about
the day before yesterday.
" Boys will be boys ! " he remarked.
" Ay, so they would ; but this was different, and he was not
to chevy her pigs while they were fattening in the sty. He and
the young sailor gentleman had chevied them ever so, just to see
where the drains went ; but it was flying in the face of Provi-
dence to clean up her pigs ; they wouldn't fat unless they were
dirty."
" I'm sure I don't know what is to be done," said Mr. Mor-
timer, " as these cottages belong to him."
" And did he think, then, that he was to have the cleaning up
of this mucky old world ? The world was nat'rally dirty. She
didn't mean to say but what he was a good landlord, but full of
fads, full of fads would have it that her pigsties confected the
little spring that the folks drank of further down, and actiUy
wanted to turn the drainage the other way. Do'ee talk to
him, sir."
" It won't be a bit of use," said Mr. Mortimer. " But I know,
if he does any damage to your pigs, he will make it up to you."
The old lady retired, grumbling as she went.
Valentine did not let me forget our bargain that I was to read
Greek with him. We set to work the very next day, directly
after breakfast, and which of us it amused the most I hardly
know, but certainly it amused all the other members of the
family, for those who did not sit in the room came in and out
and made frequent observations on us.
Just as we had nearly finished, a little shower fell, and Tom
and Mr. Brandon, who had intended to go out with us, came to
condole ; for a walk was a delightful treat to me, one for which
nothing else could compensate.
"I seem to contract a sort of sense of freshness from this
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 221
fallow," observed Mr. Brandon of Tom. " I find the world look-
ing newer than usual when I walk about with him."
It was a lovely sunshiny shower that was coming down ; it
seemed to fill the space between us and the tall trees, so ghostly
white, with confusing light and sparkling lines. Tom and I
tat and watched it.
"This is better than anything we saw this winter in the
topics," I remarked to him.
" I wonder how you employed yourself all those months while
you were at sea," said Mrs. Henfrey to me.
" You could not have been always looking at the sunsets,"
observed Valentine.
" Particularly in the morning," Lou put in.
" No. Sometimes I wrote. I found writing a great resource."
" Ah ! you wrote. To your friends ? "
" I have no friends."
" You cHrUt got no friends ! Hurrah ! You will think the
more of us then," said Valentine. " Was it a novel that you
wrote?"
" Yes."
" With a motto to every chapter," said Tom. " The ladies
always take care of that. She wrote the mottoes first, and then
put the chapter to suit them."
"And the first motto," said St. George, "was 'All the
world's a ship) and all the men and boys are merely sailors. 7 "
"But," proceeded Valentine, "the love scenes were most
heartrending."
Here I was impelled to say that I had not got so far as the
love scenes.
Ay, but don't be so shy about it," exclaimed Aunt Christie.
I'm sure writing was a very pretty occupation for ye. What
was the hero like, my dear ? "
"The hero was a terrible trouble; he wasn't natural. I
saved up a great many wise things for him to say, but I could
not get him to be interesting."
" Then of course he was not anything like me," said Valen-
tine.
" No, he was not in the least like you."
"Was he at all like me?" said Mr. Brandon*, wA\xsta\
it
222 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
observed a certain keenness of interest in the listeners, who all
seemed a good deal amused.
" Oh no ; not at all"
" That's odd," he answered ; " only think of the interesting
circumstances under which I came before you ; but," he added
gently, and as if the reflection pleased him, " he must have been
a prig of course ? I know the hero was a prig."
" But he was very handsome," said Valentine. " I think ha
had brown eyes and a fair complexion."
" Yes, he was rather fair ; but," I continued, trying to justify
myself, for I saw they were all laughing at me, " as I could not
make him natural, I gave him as many other advantages as I
could ; his defect was that he was too good, so I made him a
clergyman. I used to like his remarks when I made him say
them, but when I looked at them afterwards I thought he
preached."
" And about what age was he ? " asked Valentine.
" About the age that heroes generally are."
"That is to say, about my age?" said Mr. Brandon, in a
persuasive tone. " I think I must be right in saying he was
about my age ? "
" Oh no ; he was not nearly so old."
" So old ! " he exclaimed, with sudden vehemence and in-
terest.
Surely, I thought, he does not consider himself a young man
now ; and Valentine remarked, in a dispassionate tone, " Why,
you're nearly thirty, Giles at least six years too old for a hero.
An old man," he murmured, " and his wits are not so "
"He isn't," exclaimed Mrs. Henfrey indignantly ; "he's just
in the early prime of life."
" I was never the right age for a handsome hero," he replied,
half-laughing, but I saw plainly that he did not like our con-
sidering him old.
"Well, that's as people think," continued his champion;
"nobody can deny that he has the handsomest mouth and
teeth in the family."
She looked round upon us as she said this. "Or in the
room, either," she concluded ; and, with a chorus of laughter,
we all declared that we agreed with her. He replied that when
OFF THE SKELLTGS. 223
uft had his portrait painted for her, he would have the most
ttade of his one good feature. " It shall be painted as large as
possible," he assured her.
"Well, I must say I would like to get a look at this novel,"
said Aunt Christie.
M I have read part of it," observed Tom. " She expected me
Jo set her right when she took a young family to sea. She
asked me one day whether there was any difference between
wearing and tacking. Her genius shines most brightly in sea-
faring matters. It always did."
" But I've burnt the novel," I pleaded ; " you know I burnt
it Tom."
" And what for ? " said Mrs. Henfrey. " What does it signify
whether there's any difference between them or not ? "
" I wanted it to be right ; besides, the hero being quite in the
grand style, I could not let him make mistakes. And then
there is so much variety in nature, and if you want to make a
vivid picture, so many things have to be put in, I did not know
what to choose. For instance, if I were writing of Tom, ought
I, beside telling his height and appearance, to add that during
this conversation he has been gently slapping the palm of his
hand with an ivory paper-knife ? or that Mr. Brandon, sitting
by Aunt Christie (who has a green-plaid gown on), has been
leaning back on the couch and judiciously kicking the heavy
tassel which hangs out from the corner of her square foot-stool,
so as to keep it always going like a pendulum ? "
" If I had been your hero," retorted the last-named of the two
victims, " you would, in recording that little action, have taken
care to add, ' but whatever he did, became hun.' However," he
added, in a tone of deep reflection, " I think, on the whole, I
am glad not to be the hero of a lady's novel. Do you think you
could draw my character, Miss Graham ? Should I come out
a gentle muff in your hands, I wonder ? Or a prig with a dash
of the dissenting minister ? "
" I intend to be the hero of your next novel," said Valentine ;
" I have quite made up my mind to that."
" No, not the next" said Tom, basely betraying me. I was
terribly tormented by them all when they found out that I had
begun another, especially when, being hard ptesaad faj ^&\\sas %
226 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
trations. I held a picture of a wild raging torrent, which a man
on horseback was fording.
"That is your humble servant," he said. "These two pic-
tures ought to be labelled ' Contentment ' and l Terror.' ' Con-
tentment' represents a man with a long pipe in his mouth,
roasting some animal at the end of a stick."
" Were you frightened, then, when you crossed the torrent 1 B
" Frightened ! I quaked in my shoes ! My horse got snagged
and uttered a groan, poor beast, that often rings in my ears
yet. I was ducked once, but rose close to the murderous snag, \
and sat and held by it for a couple of hours. Those torrents '
come by suddenly. When this one had spent its force, and I
ventured down from my perch, the water was so full of pebbles
that, by the time I had struggled to the bank, I was beaten
black and blue."
" Shall you tell that anecdote at the lecture ? "
" Why not ? I consider it rather a taking one.''
" I should have thought it was enough to prevent anybody
from going. Did you visit the country, intending to settle ? "
"No; I went in the service of one Jenny Wilkes, as her
purveyor of stores, guardian, paymaster, autocrat, and likewise
slave."
"A remarkable place. Did you prove equal to its duties!"
"It is not for me to boast ; but I should confidently expect
a good character if I applied to Jenny."
" As autocrat, I can fancy you might play your part well, but
as slave "
"Might you be looking out for the latter article, madam f
My late mistress will speak well of me."
" No," I answered, laughing ; " I only asked from curiosity.''
" You'll please to understand," said Mrs. Henfrey, " that my
lord was only three and twenty when he took out a lot of women
and girls, and he would have it that there was nothing odd in
it at alL"
" No ! " exclaimed Tom.
"Yes," said Mr. Brandon, "it does strike me as rather droll
now, but I did it."
" As their slave ? "
"Yes; and I make a capital slave when I am treated with
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 227
due deference. I can nurse children, snare and shoot and cook
game, milk cows, and otherwise comport myself like a gentleman
and a man of title. My title, bestowed on me by Jenny and
ier set, was almost exactly like that of the Emperor of Russia.
He is called Czar; I was called Zur. There's no difference
worth mentioning."
We dined at five that day, that there might be time to drive
to the town afterwards and hear the lecture. Mr. Brandon and
Tom went to dine with Mr. John Mortimer, as well as Valen-
tine; and Lou, lizzy, and I went over after dinner in the
carriage. I must say I felt a strong degree of curiosity and
interest, and when we stopped at a door in a dirty-looking back
street, and saw a good many working men hanging about, I
exulted quite as much as Liz and Lou did in the prospect of a
crowded audience.
"We entered a somewhat dirty schoolroom ; it was large, bare,
and very empty. Our spirits f elL " Dear me, I wish the people
would come pouring in," said one. " Where shall we sit, so as
to make the greatest show ? " asked the other. " Spread your
gown out^ Dorothea, and cover as much of the bench as you
can."
The benches near us were perfectly empty. As we had
driven along, the girls had told me that the last time Giles had
lectured there he had been hissed. I felt indignant ; how dared
they do it ? But I only said, " Indeed, and why ? "
They thought it was because Giles was so uncompromising,
so fearless in speaking his mind. I asked whether Mr. Mortimer
would be present.
" Oh, no 1 " said Liz. " Papa says he dare not, lest they
should hiss again ; he took it very much to heart. Oh, here
come two women and a boy. Lou, dear, the gallery is beginning
to filL There are seven children in it. And see, here come
some of the navvies."
" But why did they hiss ? "
"Papa thinks the farmers close to our village hate Giles,
because some of their labourers have emigrated through his
means. More people, Lou ; we shall do now."
We now sat silent, for the room was rapidly filling. Labourers
talked in, pulled off their hats, and stroked down \5afcVt \*ss
228 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
settled themselves with a hand on each knee, and grinned M
old women disposed themselves in knots in the cosiest comers,
and scolded boys and girls as they went up into the gallery,
which was not an ordinary flight of steps such as in most schooli
goes by that name, but a real one like the gallery of a church,
and evidently favoured by the youthful portion of the audience
as a good place for seeing in, and being in some degree out of
the way of interference from their elders.
At last the room was f ulL A brace of fair-haired young
curates stood leaning in the doorway, and a stern-looking school-
master, with a long white wand, marched about below and
looked up into the gallery, in which, by this time, at least a
hundred children were seated. " There's Dick a Court," said
Lou.
Mr. Brandon now appeared with the vicar of the town. They
mounted a little platform, on which stood a reading-desk covered
with a cloth, and surmounted by the usual supply of cold water
and tumblers. The vicar proceeded to make a little speech
laudatory of the lecturer. This speech abounded in such words
as "thrilling;" it also enlarged on the condescension of the
lecturer in taking the trouble to amuse and instruct the classes
below him. Under the infliction of the vicar's praise, the
lecturer tossed back his hair by a quick, impatient movement of
the head, his nostrils widened, and, if I am not mistaken, he
uttered something like a defiant snort. The vulgarity and bad
taste of the speech were gall and wormwood to him l but he
stood manfully until it was over, and as the vicar descended
and edged his way out of the room, he came a step or two
forward, cleared his lowering brow, and gave the audience a
gracious smile which seemed to claim acquaintance with them ;
and then, instead of beginning to read his lecture, his eyes
pierced the gloomy depths of the gallery, and to the surprise of
the assembly, he said, "Stand up, boys in the gallery, and
girls too." With an obedient scraping and rustling, all the
children rose.
" My boys," said Giles, " last week when I heard a lecture
here, you made a great noise ; a very great noise and cheering:
Now, I know it is a pleasure to you to do it ; in short, that is
what you come for, if I am not mistaken " (the faces of the
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 229
Others and mothers below broke out into broad smiles), " and I
don't want to deprive you of it altogether merely to desire that
you will never begin it. If your elders choose to applaud, you
may help, but when they are silent, you must not make a noise.
8it down."
Down they all sat, but in the very act they caught a low
patting of feet and soft clapping of hands, which I believe the
two curates began, and which ran through the room directly.
Dp started the children. Here was the desired signal. They
stamped, cheered, and made a downright hubbub, while the
audience laughed and enjoyed the joke. Again and again the
running fire of claps broke out below, and the exulting voices
of the children echoed it, while the lecturer, who began to look
rather out of countenance, stood waiting for permission to begin.
At last, the two curates, contented with their work, took up
their hats, gave Giles a cheerful nod, and with innocent
countenances blandly departed after their vicar.
There was nothing particular, I think, in the opening of the
lecture ; and if there had been,I should not have noticed it, for
my ears had other work than listening to mere words, however
significant. Just as the people were settling themselves in their
seats, and the first sentence was uttered, I had heard behind Lou
a very low, soft hiss, a sound that I should hardly have been
conscious of if Lou had not started and looked hurriedly round.
At first Giles was decidedly nervous ; perhaps he, too, had
heard this soft hiss. However that might be, he betrayed
by his countenance that he was not content, not excited, and
consequently not able to excite his audience and fix their atten-
tion on himself.
I was beginning -to feel disappointed, and was at the same
time angry with myself for fearing that it was stupid and dull,
when, having waded through his exordium, he began to warm
with his subject ; his voice changed, softened, grew deeper and
richer, his countenance and all his attitudes altered, his words
came faster, and his audience began to lift up their faces and
cease to cough and fidget.
My eyes, like theirs, were drawn to gaze at him, and forget
everything else. He had raised himself into a higher place than
he was wont to occupy; his voice was wanted to calxa.\5cift ^^X-
230 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
tion that he had caused and to answer the questions that 1
asking. There was a sort of passion in all his actions, am
listened, I felt for the first time the full meaning of the e
sion, " His eloquence carried him away." The world,
went on, seemed to lie before us, great and fair as God has
it, and as if we were looking on while it rolled majesties
its pathway, showing all its hills and valleys to its Mai
turns. Voices seemed to be floating up from it to His thrc
not only the base, ungrateful cries of wounded pride an
appointed ambition, and wearied idleness and jaded vio
the sighs of the overtasked, the moaning of hungry chi
and the complaints of fathers and mothers who see thei
for want of food and warmth. To the picture of this
crowd and the gasping of those who are trampled dov
contrived to give such reality that the listeners were oppi
as if they themselves wanted breathing-room, and had
thrown down among these restless throngs. As for me,
helpless among the jostling multitudes, and derived a
sense of the worthlessness of the items in one another 9
where the aggregate is so vast, and the small count set '
poor and the unready, and the grinding of the poor by th
and the snatching of the poor from one another, and the
up houses and unref reshing air and smoky sky. I wisl
get away, and all at once we were away. He exclaimed,
have done with this now ; let us go ! " I think I see the
still ; her great swooping white sails, hovering over the
sea, like wings that God taught man to make, that he
flee away and be at rest. We were away in some great si
And now the vessel had left us. We were sitting on
towering hill, and this was the fresh world lying at on
stretching out into great valleys where solitary creatures
wading knee-deep in grass, and wide-open pastures, where n
moves but the shadows of the clouds and mountains veinet
ore, and forests where nations of birds build, and whe:
trees rock in the windy sky and shed their fruits which
are few to gather.
Stepping away along those open wastes, one of that coi
mighu penetrate at last to some sheltered nook and hei
sound of the ringing axe with joy ; he would not listen unh'
OFF THE SKELUGS. 23 1
the solitary workers want him. Come and help us, man, is all
their cry ; yon may not be wise, bnt yon are company for us ;
yon may not be strong, bnt yon are willing. Come and help ns,
woman ; be a wife here, and choose among urgent suitors ; be a
mother, and see all your children welcome and cherished as the
best gifts of a bountiful Providence. What ! as they sit hard at
work in the old country do they sigh when they set foot on the
cradle-rockers, and fear that even to its own father the crying
babe is a burden that he knows not how to bear ? Cast in your
lot with us, and no such fear shall ever clutch at your heart ; the
father shall exult in every child you bring him as the means of
riches and comfort, a new workman, a fresh companion, another
helper.
Of course, I only give the impression he conveyed, not the
words ; the power of these, and of the dilated eyes and impas-
sioned voice, I remember well ; but they are not to be conveyed
in language. When his pictures were all finished and held up
before the audience, his arms dropped at his side, and all the
vehemence with which he had spoken seemed to depart from
him. TTia eyes were seeking the upturned faces of the audience,
and after a long pause he went on slowly, dropping the manner
by which he had gained the mastery, and taking to a quiet tone.
" Suffer me a little, and I will show you that I have yet to
speak on God's behalf. " If men crowd their fellows, God has
made for the oppressed a fair green wilderness. If men care not
for the poor, God has cared, and spread a wide inheritance for
them, watered it for them when they knew not of it, and made
it ready. " If " no more words reached me, for close at my
back came the sound I had dreaded a long hiss, clear, though
low. It seemed to electrify Giles ; he stopped instantly, but
only for a moment, and with face turned in that direction, and
attentive ears, plodded through the remainder of his sentence,
and allowed it to come to an end with a long pause which seemed
to invite a repetition of the hiss. It did not come, and he began
another, under cover of which the hiss was repeated, and a faint
murmur of shame came from the unlighted corners of the room.
I was too much frightened to look round, and Liz and Lou
shook visibly on their bench. For an instant there was a dead
silence. Giles was searching the bench 'behind w& Vtfta \a&
f lit Waul * *
t. haw ! "
L.!*:. It HWI1M:'.
"rioidiy liiw., Jr
vj J*l- lull! !: I
i jjwsm!'; ti.-ri'.;
lia a'jt it:: t- ;:
Didi'ju '.J -i-i-t
auw in tiK- t'f.
k w% ha v,
of tl* */*. '/!
dwjjil* VjM; fT
ntftrldittUi. Mj
care V* rewx u*
next ui;;M tf.
d wjtfj wi/j, kvj ;
o fjwvtivn v/. *.
twnt Tu w*-3 Vi.'tri,/.* ; *.- ,
;-crt;A, wa* iwt V, ;* -. jr. 'n. \- *.
nad yr*ni*A \ 'j/;w, *?,.' "-..
iuid Liz wj'J Iy- ! ; -*;:. w=.v/.'.'l
ieMn tf drirw J.a.1 '.;/ f'.'M
r I did nut ata*, *.vl I wial.ed
lactam, hnt n'. wi"S !:'!.
iimlf in his owtifr, anl held his
OB bad ascertained that we and tho
mh, they were silent too, till within
nig home, when we heard shout*
stopped. We let down the window,
232 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
penetrating eyes, and I saw that he had found what he wanted;
for his countenance cleared, he kept them fixed on some one
close to us, and slowly closing his MS. notes, he folded his anna,
and said, with particular force and clearness :
" If the man who just now interrupted me will rise, I shall bo
glad to speak to him."
No answer no sound behind us, but a little uneasy rustling.
" Martin Churt!"
I declare the words seemed to strike me on the face, they
were so firmly spoken, and aimed so directly behind me.
" Martin Churt, I know you can speak I have heard you my-
self ; did I interrupt you so ?" He carried his eyes round the
room, repeating, " Did I ?" And several men's voices answered,
" Noa, that thee didn't, zur."
" Martin," continued Giles, in a more colloquial tone, " If I
were you, I would stand up and say what I had to say ; you
could not have a better opportunity. Get on the bench, man,
and have it out." (There was now a sound at our back of hard
breathing and puffing, as if some gentleman of the lower sort
might be holding down his head and dabbing his face with his
handkerchief.)
" It is true that these good fellows and these good women came
to give a hearing to me," continued Giles ; " but I dare say they
can spare a little time for you. You could speak on Sunday
afternoon, when I heard you holding forth on the common. Get
up, and let us hear the sound of your voice now."
" Ay, ay, let us," shouted a voice from* the corner ; " fair play
be a jewel"
" You told the people then that there was no God ; the more
fool you to say it, and they to listen, when you know as well as
they do that there is a God, and a good one. Now I am telling
them that our good God has made the world large enough for all
His creatures. Well, man, what have you to say against that I"
Somebody started up behind us now, jumped on the bench,
and a coarse voice blurted out, " There's a mort o* things moight
be said, if a chap knowed how to speak his mind things goes
wrong, and them rascally upper classes "
Here he paused and cleared his throat ; but he had lost his
advantage by this hesitation, for a loud voice bawled out behind
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 233
Us irith a countrified twang, " Good Lord, if he Want a calling
out agin them upper classes agen haw, haw, haw ! "
Boars of coarse laughter followed; the most exquisite wit
could not have excited more ecstatic applause. It seemed to be
more alarming to poor Lou than the unfriendly hiss, for she
shook in every limb, and presently turned so pale that Liz made
8 sign to me that we must leave the room ; and not without
extreme reluctance I rose and followed them.
The little door at which Giles and the clergymen had entered
stoor ajar and was close to us; before the navvies had done
exercising their lungs in laughter, we had passed through it, and
shut it behind us. How vexed I was !
Liz and I were both very cross, and did not fail to give Lou a
little wholesome scolding, under the infliction of which she pre-
sently began to cry, and then to recover herself. Meanwhile we
longed to go back, especially as the noise in the lecture-room
increased; however, we did not think we could do that with
propriety, so we listened at the crack of the door, but we could
not make out much.
It is remarkable how greatly men despise close carriages, and
what disrespectful epithets they invent for them. Mr. Brandon,
on taking his place with us, took care to remark that he only
did so because he had to speak the next night at some meeting
or other, and therefore, as it poured with rain, and he had no
great-coat, it behoved him to take precaution not to catch a
cold.
Great interest was expressed about Tom and Valentine ; the
latter, on account of his whooping-cough, was not to return in the
open dog-cart ; so he and Tom had procured a chaise, and were
in our rear. It was very dark, and Liz and Lou vainly searched
the darkness for them, and was sure the driver had deposited
them in the ditch. This fear I did not share, and I wished
somebody would mention the lecture, but no one did.
Mr. Brandon had settled himself in his corner, and held his
peace. And when Liz and Lou had ascertained that we and the
fly had safely passed the ditch, they were silent too, till within
ten minutes of our reaching home, when we heard shouts
behind us, and the carriage stopped. We let down the window,
234 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and Tom's voice shouted from the fly, " Valentine says what aie
wo to say about the hissing to his father t "
" Tell him to say nothing, but go to bed, and leave me to
manage it," replied Giles ; " and, Graham "
" All right. I hear "
" If the subject can be staved off till to-morrow, I shall to
glad."
CHAPTER XXI.
The next day I noticed that a profound silence was observed on
the subject of the lecture, and Mr. Mortimer, who was supposed
to be in low spirits, received more than the usual attention from
his children. Every one secretly pitied him, and there was a
talk in the family that Tom and Mr. Brandon were to go over
to a neighbouring town to choose a present for his birthday.
This delicate attention, it was thought, might divert his mind
from his mortification ; and when I asked Valentine what the
present was to be, he replied that he " only knew it was to be
appropriate to the day, consequently it would, of course, be a
tankard."
" Why " I asked ; " why a tankard
" Because the day is muggy."
" I don't believe you invented that joke yourself ; it does not
sound at all original."
" Doesn't it ? Well, perhaps I did not, then ; but I seemed
to think I did."
" I suppose you have not forgotten that I proposed to read
with you ? "
" Not at all. I cannot go out of doors such weather, so Til
read all day if you like."
" Pity you give such a bad reason for a good action."
" Would you have me give a good reason for a bad action
instead? as the Feejee Islander did when he threatened to
leave off eating Englishmen altogether, because their flesh tasted
bo of salt."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 235
He then began, in a fitful sort of way, to read and construe,
while Liz and Lou sat by at work ; and Mrs. Henfrey alter-
nately read her novel and listened to our frequent sparring.
"I wish I knew what old Giles was talking about," he
exclaimed, when, the rain having ceased, he saw his father and
Mr. Brandon sauntering along a gravel walk and talking;
" Old " in some families is a term of opprobrium, but, as used
by Valentine, it was generally supposed to express affection.
11 What should he be talking of 1 " said Lou.
" He's such an old patriarch," continued Valentine. " Why,
he's talking of me, to be sure. I know he is. Now, Miss
Graham, you never heard me cough, did you ? "
" No, not once."
" What business is it of his, then, if I do cough at night ?
How he found out that I do, I can't think. Am I to be spied
out, and cockered up, and blanketed all my days 1 "
11 What has St. George been doing ? " asked one of the girls.
"Doing! Why, just after I got into bed last night, he
marched into my room hauling a great blanket after him and
carrying a candle. A happy instinct warned me of what he
was after, so when he spoke I did not answer a word, for I
knew if I stirred a limb, or even wagged a finger, I should begin
to cough. So I lay like a log, and we stared at each other with
cheerful persistency. He set down his candle (only consider my
helpless condition, I could not throw so much as a pillow at
him !) and he began to examine the bedclothes ; said curtains
were unwholesome ; and it was no use trying to harden myself
by having only one blanket, when I was wheezing like an old
broken-winded horse. So he took his blanket, laid it over, and
as he stood leaning against the bed-post preaching at me, he
ignominiously tucked it in with his foot. If I was a pet felon
in jail, I could not be more pestered with attention than I am.
What with beef-tea and comforters, my life's a burden to me.
But to be tucked up ! there he goes again, laying down the law,
and father is listening."
" Well," said Mrs. Henfrey, " what did he do next ? "
" Do ! Why, he sat down on the side of the bed and lectured
me ; said it was unmanly to neglect my health, and showed a
cowardly wish to escape the duty of being pra&enV, s&A&Sk^^a
236 OFF THE SKELUGS.
selfish, talked about father, yon know, and my duty to myBelf
on his account ; and how, if anything happened to me, it would
break his heart. Well, that's an affecting point of view to aet
it in, but he shouldn't have tucked me np ! However, in
another minute it was all over with me, Giles went on talking
of father : ' How could I go on in this way, when I knew I was
as dear to him as the apple of his eye ? ' I could not stand thai
I said, ' Which eye ? ' Now that seems a natural enough ques-
tion to ask : but I suppose my long silence made it impressive,
for old Giles forgot all his heroics, and laughed till he shook
the bed. Father has a habit, sometimes, of looking at one,
rubbing his hands, and whispering to himself, ' He's as dear to
me, this fellow is, as the very apple of my eye.' Sometimes lie
does it to St. George, and sometimes to me. ' I suppose as one
was appropriated to you before I was born, and he has but two,
mine must be the left,' I went on ; ' and to be as the apple of
one's father's left eye is no such great matter, when he can't see
out of it. Oh, the meanness of keeping the good eye for your-
self.' Well, I paid dear for that sally ; he laughed, but I began
to cough, and I coughed (to use an appropriate simile) till the
gunpowder ran out at the heels of my boots."
"Dear me," said Mrs. Henfrey, anxiously. She was very
much disturbed to hear this, and not at all amused at his queer
way of relating it. " Then what is St. George going to do ? "
" That is exactly what I want to know. I hope he is not
ruining all my prospects in life ; but if he is, I cannot help it
I've done my best."
He now plunged into his exercise, and only paused once
during the next half-hour to say, " Here am I taken in tow by
the powerful steam-tug 'Dorothea,' registered A-i for fifteen
years. I'm coming into port at a spanking rate, and I know
they'll say, ' Let him keep on terms with the young women ;
what signifies his terms with old Alma Mater f ' "
Presently he broke out again
" Here am I, six feet one in my socks (St. George is only a
bare five feet eleven when he first wakes in the morning), and
yet I'm reading Greek with a girl, and have never yet had so
much as one sniff of the air of freedom. If I had been up at
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 237
Cambridge all these weeks, and my cough had been left alone,
perhaps it would have been well before now."
Aunt Christie now came in, and Mrs. Henfrey detailed to
ler how Valentine coughed at night. I never saw any one so
gently, peaceably, and persistently uninterested in the droll side
of things as Mrs. Henfrey was, and yet so kind and comfortable.
Though she was a widow and had lost two young children, her
face looked unworn and satisfied. In her life the affections must
surely have played a subordinate part. She had let her good
things go easily. She had what are called substantial comforts
about her, and she pleased herself with them. Perhaps she had
never held the others very closely to her heart ; but a little shade
of anxiety was visible now on her pleasing face. And when
Aunt Christie made light of " the Oubit's " ailment, it did not
reassure her.
Aunt Christie was not in the least like one's notion of a
spinster in poor circumstances. There was an affluence of
energy, and sometimes an agreeable vehemence in her ways, that
spoke of strength, both of mind and body. Her hands and feet
were large and bony ; and, though more than sixty years old,
she evidently found a deep joy in life, and thought of it as a
great blessing.
She soon began to talk to me, and Valentine called her to
order
" Miss Graham belongs to me. We haven't done our Greek
yet"
Presently she spoke again, and again he found fault, and she
ridiculed him.
" We've done our Greek now," I observed.
"But I have annexed you," he answered. "I'm a great
comfort to you ; I satisfy the craving you have to be useful, you
know; and I consider that, in return, you ought to devote
yourself to me. In fact, it's no fun to talk to you, unless I can
have you, as it were, for my own possession."
" Ay, ay, possession ! " said Aunt Christie. " It's astonishing
how early the mind of humanity begins to cling to the notion of
possession. I remember I was but seven or eight years old"
(here he interrupted her, but she went on just the same) " I was
but seven or eight jears old when my father fc&Nfc m& ^\\\ ^V
238 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
ground to make a garden of, and through it ran a little burn W
before it reached us came down past "one or two of the cotter's
doors. One day, some of their bairns made and launched on it
a fleet of paper boats. They came floating down into my water,
and I, full of a lofty indignation to think that they should in-
trude where I was mistress of the property, flung out every one
of the flabby things with my rake ; and while they lay wrecked
on the grass, I proudly compared myself to Van Tromp, sailing
through the narrow seas with a broom at his mast-head, to
signify that he had swept the English ships from the Channel."
She had a way of telling this which showed she meant to
compare his conduct with her own, and nothing that he said
made any difference. He had been made ridiculous in my eyes
and in his own.
Tom and Mr. Brandon were away some hours ; but, while
dressing me for dinner, Mrs. Brand told me they had returned,
and brought a gentleman with them, who would stay and dine
a Doctor Simpsey.
Dr. Simpsey was a pleasant man, and did his best to make
the evening go off well He and Tom had a long and animated
conversation, and then we had some duets ; but Mr. Mortimer
sat perfectly silent in his chair, and Mr. Brandon watched him,
and was very grave.
Late in the evening, as I sat a little apart from the rest,
Valentine came up and said
" You see, St. George did steal a march on me. I believe he
went away mainly to bring Dr. Simpsey ; and when he had got
him, he just said to father that it might be as well if he gave me
a look. Father, of course, said ' yes.' "
" But what did the Doctor say 1 "
" Why, he said I was to eat bread and milk for my breakfast.
At my age, too ! "
" You don't like it, then 1 "
" H that fellow Prentice were to hear that I eat bread and
milk for my breakfast, I should never hear the last of it."
"But, surely, that was not all he said?"
" No ; he poked and tapped and listened with his ear at my
chest ; said I was to have a fire in my room all day ; and remarked
to father, as if I had been a sweet, unconscious infant, that I
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 239
*88 a very fine young fellow, and there was a thickening of the
light lung. Then I was sent away, and not allowed to hear any
more of their odious plans."
And he recurred to the prescription of his breakfast, and to
Prentice, with such heartfelt annoyance, that I said
u I am very fond of bread and milk ; I shall ask if I may have
some too ; and I shall ask Liz to join. No doubt she will ; and
then, if anything does reach the ears of Prentice, it will be that
some of the family and the guests have taken a liking to it, and
generally eat it."
" You are a brick ! " he exclaimed, " if ever there was one."
And the next morning three basins "smoked upon the
board."
Valentine did not appear to feel at all uneasy about the re-
marks of the doctor on his health. He grumbled a good deal
when he went into the morning room, because it had been
decreed that for the present he was only to go out in fine weather ;
but he laid out his books and lexicons and exercises, and called
on me to come and give my lesson, as if he found having some
one to tyrannise over a set-off against the despotic orders of the
physician.
w And I wish you to understand, my dear young friend," he
presently said, " that you are not going to have all the lecturing
and instructing to yourself. I am going to take my turn now,
and overhaul your education a little before I begin my Greek."
" No, don't ! " I replied, for Tom and Mr. Brandon had come
in, and Aunt Christie was listening.
" I shall begin with a few moral remarks," he proceeded. " I
wish to see what use you have made of your many advantages ;
for, no doubt, my young friend, you are sensible that you have
had advantages. That's the style, isn't it, Aunt Christie ? "
Aunt Christie pricked up her head. " Ye're just the marvel
of creation for idleness and impudence," she answered, with a
good-natured laugh.
" Now, then," he continued, " you went on a yachting tour
last winter : went to Buenos Ayres ? "
"Yes."
" What's the latitude and longitude of Buenos Ayres ? "
w I forget at least I don't know with perlecl wmt&Q^?
240 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" Sad, sad, breaking down at once ! Is that the best answer
you can give me ? "
"Why," exclaimed St. George, "you don't mean to say thai
you know yourself ? "
" I do."
" You have been consulting books of travels then, and that
accounts for some gaps on my shelves."
" I shall take no notice of your mean insinuation. Descrito
Buenos Ayres, Miss Graham."
" It's a horrid, watery, sandy, square, uninteresting place.*
" If I were to go to that country, I have no doubt I could
find interesting things, in it for years," said Valentine, re-
proachfully.
" No doubt at all, Oubit," said Aunt Christie. " The shal-
lowest sea God ever spread is deep enough to float a flounder.*
" There's nothing I could not make something of, or get some-
thing out of," continued the young professor.
" Quite true," said St. George. " I believe if you met a sea-
nymph walking by the shore, you would beg a bit of coral of
her."
" And why shouldn't I ] " exclaimed Valentine.
" Why shouldn't you put the highest things to their lowest
use ? Well, that's a subject for your own consideration quite as
much as for mine."
" So the town's square, is it? " said Valentine. " Yes, I know
it is."
" But I only went once into the town," I continued.
" Then make some rather more intelligent remarks concern-
ing it."
" I saw in the streets paving-stones with English inscriptions
on them, such as ' Try Warren's Blacking,' and ' Do you bruise
your oats yet V I asked what this meant, and was told that
they had no stone, so they imported old pavement from Eng-
land. It comes as ballast. I think they said they had a con-
tract with the Kensington Vestry or the Nottinghill Vestry.
I know it was somewhere at the West-End. Do you find that
confirmed in your books 1 "
" Lot me have none of this levity. What else did you see in
those parts 1 "
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 24 1
W I saw Rio."
' "What have you to remark concerning it?"
"It was perfectly beautiful ! and I went in an omnibus to see
the Horticultural Gardens."
"An omnibus !"
"Yes ; and there is a rock in them nearly three thousand feet
high, and it was so hot that I could hardly bear to lay my hand
on it"
"That's what we call accurate information. The Corcovada
Sock you mean 2400 feet high."
"Ah! that is mentioned in your book, then. Does it add
that the butterflies there, instead of wavering and waggling
about, go shooting and darting across like birds 1 I saw some
great flowers like open loose lilies, and settling on them were
crowds of large butterflies, with perfectly transparent wings.
The sun shone through them, and all their delicate little veins
were reflected on the lilies. It was intensely hot, but that
could not have been the reason why the birds were so lazy.
When I came among a crowd of large ones, I felt inclined to
say, ' Do get out of my path, will you 1 ' Buenos Ayres smelt
of wool : all that part of South America had a woolly smell that
you could perceive out at sea. But Rio had a slightly mouldy
scent, as of damp woods and fruits wasted and decaying in the
hot, flowery meadows."
" Fancy, mere fancy, Miss Graham. How am I to classify
such talk as this ? "
" I have often noticed," said Mr. Brandon, " that everything
coming from the prairie towns in the States has a perceptible
smell of grass."
"And you can smell London ten miles off by the smoke,"
observed Mrs. Henfrey.
" And all India smells of sandalwood," remarked Tom.
"Very improving this. Proceed."
" The cooks go to market on horseback. The beggars beg on
horseback (at least, the cripples do), and the children ride down
the hills to school on the backs of large sheep."
" Now, I wonder whether that's true, or not ! Have you any
other remark to make ? "
" Yes. I did not hear any birds sing at "Rio, \v& itafe \^^
4
2^2 OFF THE SKELLIG8.
chirped exactly as sparrows do, and there were flies who whistled!
at night. Their note was just like a railway whistle, and quites
as loud."
" Now, stop ! I am going to sum up, and I will mainly mmf*
on that perverse ingenuity which has not only avoided convey
ing one single item of worthy information, but which has pre
vented me from bringing out my learning. One more question
What is the depth of Kio harbour 1 "
"I don't know."
" Then, as Captain Cuttle said, ' No more don't L* "
After this I had Valentine and his Greek to myself all thov
rest of the morning, and, after luncheon, April having treated u
to one of her ever-fresh varieties, and given us a warm, still, and
very sunny day, we sallied forth in a body to a certain fir copse*
where we meant to sit for a while, Aunt Christie bringing some*,
books with her, and Tom also. We reached a screen of larches,
and came through it to a place where the underwood had been,
cut away and the large trees left. A good many felled trunks
lay on the ground, with clumps of primroses about them, and on
the slope of a ridge grew whole nations of anemones and wild
hyacinths.
We sat down on the ridge, just in front of the screen of firs.
The long, deep dell was all bare to the light, for the chestnuts
and poplar-trees had not yet unfolded their crumpled leaves, and
the sun was pouring down his rays on the heads of the flowers.
I do not know that a partly felled wood is a particularly lovely
place in general, but that unsullied sky was delightful, so was
the sudden warmth and the thick shelter behind us, and I liked
to see the shy English birds flitting about and piping, and then
peeping round corners at us.
Aunt Christie was with us, but not Mrs. Henfrey ; she almost
always remained where Mr. Mortimer chose to be. Valentine
presently came up, with a large untidy bunch of flowers in each
hand, and his little dog followed with some twigs of flowering
larch in his mouth.
Aunt Christie began to caress him. It appeared that he was
Emily's dog, and had been left in special charge of Valen-
tine.
" Bonny Emily l" said Amt Christie, " I miss her. It's not
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 243
*fcuch of a man she's got ; but 111 answer for it, she rules him
relL w
"She does," said Mr. Brandon. "Not that that is anything
Xmcommon ; this is a woman-ridden age. Yet, it is but fair to
confess that all the former ones were man-ridden ages. What
^re want is a happy proportion."
"Emily was always sure such wonderful things were coming,"
lemarked Lou. " Wasn't she, St. George ? "
" Yes," he answered ; " Emily always wanted all wanted the
sea at her doorstep, to come singing up the street, between her
and the opposite neighbours. Have we no boats ? How easy
to step on board ; and then we should be out on the road that
leads everywhere"
Valentine, who had flung himself full length on the slope, and
tied his flowers together, taking the twigs from his dog to add
to them, now reared himself on one elbow, and graciously say-
ing, " There ! I knew you wanted some of these," dropped the
ponderous lump of flowers on my lap.
" My dear boy ! " said Mr. Brandon, " I really think I must
take you in hand ; is that the sort of nosegay to give a lady
bigger than her head, and tied up with an old hat-band, torn off
for the occasion ? "
" Well," answered Valentine, sulkily, " I had nothing else to
tie it up with ; and as for bigness, I got one twice as big last
week for Jane Wilson."
w Worse and worse ! you shouldn't have mentioned that little
fact at alL Now, when I give a nosegay to a lady "
" Ah ! but you never do."
" How do you know that ? "
" Ay," said the old aunt, " how does he know that ? " It was
an ay at least two syllables long.
Mr. Brandon made some reply, in which he was especially
severe on the dripping cur, out of whose mouth some of the
stuff had been taken, and who, he said, had been pushing his
nose into every rat-hole within reach; and Valentine, taking
the matter quite in earnest, exclaimed, " Now, Liz, now, Aunt
Christie, isn't this a shame? Giles was never known in all his
days to be attentive and polite. It's my belief he can't bear
244 0FF THE SKELLIGS.
girls ; and because I try to supply his deficiencies, he calls my
dog a cur."
Then, observing that we were laughing at him for taking the
tiling so seriously, he suddenly came out of his sulky fit, and
exclaimed, " If I could see your nosegays, Giles, no doubt I
should have a fine example to copy; but it's my belief
are not yet gathered."
" Nor likely to be," said Lou.
" Fancy Giles presenting a nosegay ! " exclaimed Liz.
" On one knee, with the words, * Accept this wreath, love-
liest of thy sex ! ' " said Mr. Brandon ; " that is my favourite
style."
Presently after this Tom was desired by the old aunt to rea^
and he took up a volume of Tennyson that he had wit/**
him.
" No, not the Mendelssohn of poets," exclaimed Mr. Brando*^
as if in great alarm.
" Why not ? " replied Tom.
" Because I am so choked up with sentiment already to-day r
that I hardly know what to do with myself, and I know he'll
make me worse."
" I like sentiment," said Lou, idly; "it's so soothing."
" Soothing ! soothing, indeed ! Well, if I am to plunge into
sentiment, let it be over head and ears, and in good earnest, and
let there be nobody there to see. But a large party dallying
with it, and dipping in here a foot, and there a finger, is what
I cannot understand."
" Because you are so vehement," said Tom. " Now, when I
read this sort of thing, I feel like a cat sitting still to be stroked
by its master's hand. I like it, and purr accordingly."
"When my masters lay their hands upon me, I never feel
that I am being stroked ; I feel the thrill of their touch vibrat-
ing among the strings of my heart, and playing wild music on
that strange instrument, to a tune that I never intended, making
it tremble and shake to its inmost core, in their unsparing race
over the chords."
" Do you mean to say that any living poet has such an effect
on you now ? "
"No; but a man who once lcvsxd teal ^ower must retain a
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 245
portion of it thus, that the old strain recalls the time when
it was felt to be so suitable and so telling ; and nothing is
more affecting than to be thrown back into one's former self
xinawares."
"Fm sure it's past my power to see any resemblance between
Tennyson and Mendelssohn, " said Aunt Christie.
"There is a kind of subtile beauty in their harmonies. Some-
thing dreamy, and a general pensiveness of effect which comes
partly from high finish. They are both tender and not pas-
sionate, and they both appeal strongly to the feminine side of
a man's nature. Handel, on the contrary, is almost exclusively
masculine, just as Milton is."
" Handel is a very jolly fellow," said Tom.
" He is a glorious fellow ; I like him better than Milton, and
Tennyson better than Mendelssohn. Handel's humanity is grave
and deep ; his pathos manly, his reverence sublime. "When I
hear his music I feel the more a man for it. He makes one
brave. His sweetness does not subdue, but comfort and elevate ;
his passion keeps clear of all puling. I go and hear him when-
ever I can."
" Giles is like a jockey," observed Valentine ; "he goes into
training to make himself strong."
" And he's as full of sentiment as he can hold," said the old
aunt, nodding at him. " I always used to be afraid he would
turn out a poet himself. Why didn't ye, Giles ? "
"It was entirely on account of the rhymes," he answered,
bantering her. " There are so many bad rhymes in the English
language, and they would come to me."
"And that's a pity," she answered with gravity; "a bad
rhyme, like a bad egg, is aye conspeecuous. You may beat up a
dozen eggs in the cake, but if only one of them's bad, it spoils
all. Now what are you two girls laughing at ? "
" Perhaps at your notion about Giles turning out a poet," said
Valentine.
"And Miss Graham, too," she continued. "Well, child,
ye might know better, for ye've seen the world ; but, as I
remember, ye found some of the strangest parts of it very
uninteresting."
" Yea," said Giles, "I was surprised when ^ou soul ^"aX^Vvas*
246 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Graham. I should have thought you would find plenty there to
gratify the widest and most wholesome curiosity."
" Ay, and intelligence, too," proceeded Aunt Christie. "And
I am glad, to be sure, she has some of that ; for, my dears, all
of you, ye may have remarked that one must have a certain
amount both of intelligence and knowledge to be amazed even
at the most extraordinary things."
We admitted the truth of this, and she went on. " I remember
when I was a mere wean I had a nurse-girl that thought to
make me respect and fear her by telling me that her grand-
mother was a very powerful witch ; and, indeed, if she pleased
to mutter her spells she could make the moon come down into
our back-yard ; but I was not at all impressed, for I argued "with j
myself that the moon, as I had seen, came down somewhere
every night, with no spells at all. At one time I had seen it
go down into the trees behind the manse, at another it would
dip the other side that hill where Johnnie MacQueen had his
potato garden. So I just answered, ' When you're granny brings
her down so near as that, ye won't forget to wake me, for 1
would dearly like to have a look at her.' "
This story was mainly directed at me, and was supposed to
illustrate my want of intelligence; but there was more good-
nature than malice in it, and Aunt Christie evidently felt that
now she had the laugh on her side.
A carriage was now seen for a moment, and a smiling face
nodding and bowing. " Well, we must go in," said the girls,
and we all rose.
"Mrs. Wilson and Jane with her," exclaimed Valentine.
" They are come to call on Aunt Christie."
" But there is no need for Miss Graham to come in," observed
Mr. Brandon. " I dare say she would much prefer to be left
here for half an hour."
I replied that I should like it exceedingly, and they went
away, Mr. Brandon saying that he would come when the
Wilsons were gone and fetch me in.
When they were all gone I leaned my chin upon my hand,
had a long and delightful dream all to myself, and sat so still
that the birds and squirrels grew bold, and the butterflies,
taking me perhaps for a mere erectkna. made of drapery, settled
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 247
nearer, and then the robins began to sing with shriller notes and
hop about with a perter air.
In what seemed a very little while, I heard the tread of a
man's foot on the dead twigs, and Mr. Brandon approached, and
strange to say he had some wild flowers in his hand a nosegay
fresh and perfect, made of the most delicate flowers and the
youngest leaves and newly-opened violets. He looked very
grave, as he generally did when not talking. "I hope you
have not found the time long," he said ; "we have been away
three-quarters of an hour." Then he sat down a little below me
on the slope, took out a manuscript, and tearing off its last leaf,
on which nothing was written, folded it round his nosegay, and
said gravely, "I robbed you of your flowers, may these take
their place ? " How little sisters know their brothers ! was the
thought that darted into my mind, but I tried to be as grave as
he was while I held out my hand for them, and said, " Is that
MS. the lecture. If so, I did not hear the end of it % "
"Nor any one else as here written," he replied. "I only
write my lectures down, because being a coward by nature, I
seldom like to stand up without something to fall back upon in
case I should lose my self-possession."
" Will you read the end of that lecture ? " I asked. " I should
like so much to hear it."
Without answering he continued to look at the flowers as I
held them with one hand on my knee, and smoothed a leaf and
settled a bud with the other. " Ah ! " he said, " you treat my
flowers just as you did Valentine's. A long time ago ten years
as I sat in this wood, and almost in this very spot, I gave a
bunch of flowers to" and here he paused for some time,
then went on without putting in any name : " She held them as
she talked, and flattered them with the touch of her delicate
fingers; she smoothed the primrose faces, and spread out the
crumpled leaves with her caressing hand, but she cared to have
them no more than you did for that prodigious bunch ; and she
showed it just as you have done. I felt it (young fool that I
was) I felt it to the very heart."
" I did not mean to disparage Valentine's flowers. I touched
them very lightly, it could not make them fade."
"Very lightly, just as you have been touching Tosafc tlota^
248 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
softly as one might smooth a baby's hair. I never saw flovers
so treated from that day to this. It was not what she did that
pained me, but what she did not do."
" And have I followed her in that omission ! "
His words troubled me exceedingly, they were the regretful
avowal of some passionate love, but as he looked up at me be
made me so thoroughly conscious again of the imaginary beauty
with which he invested me, that I was abashed and felt my face
colour over with a bloom that nature did not bestow on me
often. They were such inconvenient blushes that I was fain to
lift up the flowers to hide them, and I inhaled their fragrance
and lingered over it as long as I could. I thought of Dorinda,
and wondered how there could be anything to be so disturbed
about concerning some earlier love, if he was satisfied ot-
hers ; and when I was obliged to put the flowers down, I said*
" Perhaps this friend of yours was just as unconscious of dispaJT*^
aging the flowers as I have been twice this afternoon ; but A"
should like to be warned for the future. What did she do?"
"What did she omit? It was what you have just thi#
moment done. She did not lift them to her face, nor let them
touch her lips, and exhale their fragrance for her. I might
have gathered dog-violets for any sweetness she drew from
them."
" I know you abjure sentiment."
" Yes, I do."
"Then let us look for a prosaic reason for her behaviour.
Perhaps that lady did not like the scent of flowers."
" Perhaps that lady did not like me."
" It would be as absurd seriously to conclude so "
He had turned on his elbow, and laughter lighted up his eyes
when I paused " As to infer the contrary now, he said, " yes,
so it would, and yet if flowers are gathered for your especial
pleasure and you accept them, I think it is singular not to
ascertain whether they are sweet or not."
" As I have done ; but then I am not afraid of Tennyson, or
of Mendelssohn either."
" Do you ever think of the oracular Miss Tott ? It would
have soothed her sentimental soul to hear you make that last
speech ; she would have moaned over your audacity, and
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 249
answered you as she did Graham 'Ah, you will be some
day.' "
"But shall I? Do you think I shall 1*
My thought should be at your service if it was worth having,
but I do not know enough of you to make it so. Do you
remember Walter Scott's description of Minna and Brenda, and
the feelings of those damsels as regarded ghosts 1 ' The one,' he
says, * believed, but was not afraid ; the other did not believe,
but trembled ' with which of the two do you sympathise ? "
"I admire the first, though I fear I might not be able to
imitate her. The second I pity, but I blame and I think I
almost despise her. At present, my belief is that there are no
ghosts, and certainly I do not tremble."
" When they rise, then, and begin to haunt you, you will, I
doubt not, be what you admire not afraid at least, not long
afraid ; you will know that they exist, but you will learn first
to master them and then to lay them."
" When they rise ! Oh, how can you say such eerie things,
Mr. Brandon ? They make me wish to go in directly."
He laughed, but answered, " They have made you rise, but
it is just as well to go in ; the air begins to freshen, and the sun
has lost its power. I am almost as doleful as Miss Tott, am
I not?"
" On the contrary, all these ghosts and spirits of yours are
evidently unable to daunt you ; perhaps they spur you on to be
more courageous."
" Perhaps or my companion may be powerful to lay them.
There used to be a spirit of the past, that has often appeared to
me in this wood ; you must have chased it away."
" I felt there was something ambiguous in these words, but I
answered literally, " Oh, no ; I do not even believe in ghosts,
how then can I have any dealings with them ? *
252 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
out into the starry sky, when I looked in between the hea^J
grey curtains, which hung about a foot apart.
"Well," he said, like a great, blunt boy, "what do y u
want ?"
" What are you doing here ? "
" Doing ? Why, nothing ! But this is as nice a place as 9&%
other."
" Oh, very nice ; and so cheerful"
"lam not cheerful, then. What business has St. George ^
stamp upon me as he does % "
Then, after a pause
" Hang Dorinda ! "
" You need not try to make me believe that you are out C^
temper," I replied; "you are tired of that You have nc^
dignity enough to act the martyr for long together."
He screwed his face into all manner of twists to hide a smites
but the smile would come, and then came a laugh; and h^^
exclaimed
" I say, I wish you would come in here and sit with me."
So I came in, and we sat together in the window-seat, some-
times looking out on the dark, driving clouds, and sometimes
into the lighted drawing-room; for the long curtains, sweeping
apart on each side, enabled us to see what was passing there.
We were deep in sea talk when Liz looked in. She wanted
Valentine, and so did St. George. He was to play the flute
part of some new duets. Valentine sent word back to his
brother that I would not let him go. I could not spare him,
Whereupon, Mr. Brandon presently put his head into our
retreat.
" Now, Giles," said Valentine, " I'm improving my mind ;
Miss Graham is telling me a story. And if you want to come
in, come in, and don't stand blocking out the light. Well, go
on, Miss Graham. * She was sailing right in the wind's eye,'
didn't you say, ' when he most unexpectedly closed it ; and they
wouldn't have been able to trim the sails if one of them hadn't
been torn to ribbons, which they naturally used for the purpose. ,w
" Nonsense ! "
" Ah ! it's very well to say nonsense ; but I've heard Giles say
that, if it was possible to use a sea-term erroneously, you had the
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 253
*$ to do it Your brother says the same. No, it wasn't exactly
*k*t, St. George, that we were talking of. She was telling me,
***at in a ship the yards in sailing before the wind are braced
^Uare, and the mizzen sail alone is usually in a fore-and-aft
Position. Isn't that a nice thing to know ? I'm glad they brace
*ke yards square ; it does equal honour to their heads and hearts.'
The next day was a Sunday, a country Sunday, most cheerful,
lUiet, and comforting ; we walked to church through the green
fields and between budding hedgerows. There was a delightful
Scent of violets, and the rustic congregation had so many wall-
flowers in their button-holes, that the whole place was sweet with
them. On one side of the chancel sat Lou, with a number of
chubby little urchins under her care ; on the other was the lovely
Charlotte Tikey, looking almost too pretty for any common work,
but frowning at, and hustling, and marshalling the little girls.
Valentine had said, " When Prentice comes in I shall ' hem ! '
that you may look at him."
A heavy determined-looking youngster here advanced. The
'Warning " hem ! " was given (we were very early, be it known).
Prentice took his seat in the vicar's pew. He had stiff hair,
deep-set eyes, a square forehead, a short nose ; his dress was un-
exceptionable, his gloves as tight as drum-parchment, his prayer-
book gorgeous, his air supercilious.
I found it almost impossible not to have Prentice in my
thoughts ; he reminded me of some description I had seen in one
of Dickens's works of a youth about his age. When we sang, he
seemed to express by his manner that we had done it very well,
considering. When the vicar preached, Prentice was attentive ;
he approved now and then, as might be seen by his conveying
into his countenance a look which plainly said, " That is not
bad not at all bad. I quite agree with you." He was also so
good as to keep the younger pupils in order, and occasionally he
favoured me with a look of curiosity, and, I thought, of dis-
favour. I felt all the time as if Dickens must have seen and
sketched him.
As we came out of church, Prentice and Valentine met, and
stayed behind to talk, Valentine running after and joining us,
so very much out of breath that Mrs. Henfrey rebuked him tor
his imprudence:
254 0FF THE SKELLIGS.
w ^^ m , -, w M , mum ^^m | in . _ "
"When you know," she remarked, "that Dr. Simpsey par-
ticularly said you were not to exert yourself. "
" Why, sister," said Valentine, " would you have me lei
Prentice think that I'm broken-winded ? I say," addressing me,
"just take my arm for a minute, will you ? Do."
He said this half confidentially, and I did take his arm ; but
he was so tall that I shortly withdrew, saying that I preferred
to walk alone.
" Oh," he answered, " I don't care about it now. That fellow
Prentice is out of sight. What do you think he stopped me to
talk about ? "
" I don't know."
" Why, about you. Asked who you were and whether you
were engaged 1 "
" Impertinent boy ! what business is it of his ? "
" Asked me if I thought of making myself agreeable ! I replied
that I had done that already ; and he was as. savage as possible,
though he pretended to be only amused."
" You were impertinent if you said that."
" Oh, don't be vexed ; I only said it for fun. Come, I know
you are not really angry." And, with another laugh and chuckle,
he went on : " He said he supposed we were not engaged."
" Engaged ! " I exclaimed. " Engaged ! As if I should think
of such a thing ! "
" Well, don't be so hot about it. I said, ' No ! ' Distinctly
I said, 'No!'"
" To a boy like you ! why, the very idea is preposterous."
So this was my first service in an English church after
months of sea-prayers or strange looking-on at foreign Roman
Catholic worship. How much I had wished for such a Sunday
how fervent I had expected my prayers to be ! But now I felt
that some of my thoughts had been taken up by a conceited
schoolboy, and others had strayed to the wood, and been occu-
pied with Mr. Brandon's speeches, and also with his remarks
about Tom.
In the afternoon things were very little better. Mr. Brandon
read the lessons for the vicar. This seemed to be his custom,
for it excited no attention; but it was a pleasure and a sur-
prise to me. Then Prentice forced himself on my mind by his
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 255
obvious watchfulness of Valentine and me, and the determined
manner in which he kept his face turned in our direction. I
could not help thinking, too, that Valentine was needlessly care-
ful to find the lessons and hymns for me ; but I had no means of
preventing this, nor of keeping his eyes on his book instead of
on my face, where they were not wanted, and only fixed to make
Prentice burst with suspicion and jealousy.
We sat all together in the evening, and there was sacred
music and some reading aloud ; but I found opportunity, at last,
to give Valentine a lecture. I said I would not be made ridi-
culous ; that Prentice was a most absurd boy, and I wondered
Valentine could wish to make him believe there was a single
other youth in the world as ridiculous as himself.
But the next morning, while Valentine and I were doing our
Greek, the two ladies working, and the two girls reading novels,
Mr. Brandon came in. He had written all Mr. Mortimer's
letters, he said, had nothing more to do for him all day : he
and Tom were going to walk over to Wigfield, and would we
go with them ?
liz and Lou were disconcerted. The box was going back to
Mudie's, they said, and they had not finished the books. Tom
came in, and uttered some denunciations against novel-writers,
but the girls kept their seats, and looked good-naturedly deter-
mined not to yield. " Dorothea would not come if they did
she had her Greek to do," said Lou. Liz said it was windy,
and then that it was cold, and then that it was a long walk to
Wigfield ; finally, they both proposed that we should go some
other day.
" Very well ; then suppose we give it up, Graham ? "
With all my heart," said Tom, idly.
" Well go with you in the afternoon," Liz promised.
" I don't see how you can, as the Marchioness is coming to
call, and we know it," said Mrs. Henfrey.
" Ah, yes," said Valentine to me, " she is coming to call, so
you had better put your war paint on, and that best satin petti-
coat of yours that I like. She is made much of in these parts,
I can tell you, for she is the only great lady we have."
" She is not coming to call on me" I answered ; " so what
does it signify?"
256 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" Oh yes, she is," said Mr. Brandon ; " I met her on Saturday,
and she said so. It seems that, three years ago, your uncle was
up the Nile."
"Yes," answered Tom, "so far the narrative is historical
Anything she may have added to that is probably not so."
"Very probably, indeed," said St George. "I have not
formed any notion as to what really occurred, though I have
heard the story before. Perhaps their old yacht, knowing she
could not possibly hang together another day, sagaciously ran '
herself on to a spit of sand of her own accord. I know the
Marquis was very glad when Mr. Rollin, who was coming down,
took them on board the ' Curlew,' and brought them to Cairo.".
" It's too bad to take ladies to sea," said Tom. " My sister
was wretchedly ill before she became accustomed to it."
"Well, there's nothing I would like better than a voyage,"
said Aunt Christie ; " but I think I would be a little frightened
in a storm."
" You would get used to it in time," I answered ; " but it
always remains very impressive."
" I do not feel it more impressive than the utter stillness of a
night here," Tom answered.
" But it is a curious sensation, surely," said Mr. Brandon, " to
wake and find yourself standing on your head in your berth, and
your heart beating wrong end upwards ! "
"Ay I " said the old aunt, " I wouldn't like that."
" And then you become aware," he continued, " that if you
could see it, the bowsprit must be sticking straight up into the
sky ; and, like a dog, making a point at some star. But while
you're thinking about that, suddenly she shakes herself, and
rolls so that you wonder she doesn't roll quite over ; and then
she gives a spring and appears to shy, so that you feel as if you
must call out * "Wo, there ! ' as to a horse ; and then, without
more ado, she begins to root with her bowsprit into the very
body of the sea, as if she never could be easy again unless she
could find the bottom of it."
" Well," said Aunt Christie, beguiled for the moment into a
belief that this was a fair description of life at sea, it's no won-
der at all, then, that the poor Marchioness did not like it."
"No," said Valentine to me; "but, as I said before, you'd
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 257
better put on some of your best tilings, for I shall naturally wish
you to look well."
They all, Tom included, look surprised at this speech. 1
knew Prentice was at the bottom of it.
" How engaging of you ! " I answered blandly. " You will
have a clean pinafore on, yourself, no doubt ; and I suppose you
will expect me to give you a new rattle in return for your solici-
tude about me. I will, if I can get one for a penny, for I am
lather tired of your present rattle."
This ought to have been a wittier retort, for nothing I ever
said was so much laughed at. They were always delighted
when I managed to snub Valentine, but on this occasion Aunt
Christie spoilt all by shaking her finger at him and saying, " Ay,
laddie, you've met with your match now ; you've met with your
match."
" That is exactly my own opinion," he replied with emphasis ;
"if we didn't fight so over our Greek we might be taken for a
pair of intellectual young turtle-doves."
" You'd better look out," exclaimed Lou suddenly, and Valen-
tine instantly put his arm through mine.
" Bless you," he said, " we won't be parted ; we'll go into exile
together, like a pair of sleeve-links. Lay on, Macduff ! "
I do not suppose any special personal punishment had been
intended by his brother ; besides, the window was shut, and as
he had linked his arm into mine, nothing could be done, and he
triumphed.
" Well, I never expected to see ye let the Oubit get the better
of ye so, St. George," exclaimed Aunt Christie ; and again some-
thing was said about wasting the morning when it was so fine,
and the walk to Wigfield was so beautiful.
" Then, why can't you go without us, dear ? " said Lou, ad-
dressing her brother.
Mr. Brandon replied that it suited him to stay, and that he
thought a little Greek would be good for his constitution.
Accordingly he joined us ; but though he could help Valentine
far better than I could, he was not half so strict as I had been ;
and besides that, considering us both as his pupils, he bestowed
as much pains on my translation as on his, and sometimes
laughed outright when I read, declaring that to \iNt * ^&
25S OFF THE SKELLIGS.
cooing out that manly tongue was as droll as it was delightful.
After luncheon we had to wait a little while for the proposed
call, and when it had been paid, Mrs. Henfrey said Lou must
go out with her in the carriage and pay a few visits. Aunt
Christie and I both begged off, and as Liz found some fresh
excuse for not going to Wigfield, we took a walk in the shrubbery
instead, and in the wood ; Mr. Brandon going with us and say-
ing he should ride over to Wigfield at five o'clock, stay half an
hour, and get back again in time for dinner. He and Tom were
both in highly genial humour. Tom and Liz, without caring in
the least for one another, were getting quite familiar and inti-
mate, she informing him what a comfort he was to them.
" When you are not here, St. George is always getting away,
either to see Miss Braithwaite or that blessed Dick ! "
" What's Dick ? " said Tom, pretending to be jealous ; " he
can't argue with Dick. What does he find in Dick's society,
I should like to know 1 "
We were crashing down the slope at a good pace, for as it
did not suit us to walk in even paths, they were taking us into
the wood. Tom had Liz on his arm, and Mr. Brandon had
Aunt Christie and me.
" Is there anything else you would like to know ? " said Aunt
Christie over her shoulder to Tom.
" Yes, I should like to know why you all call him St. George."
" Why, Dick's at the bottom of that too," said Liz.
" No ! " exclaimed both she and Mr. Brandon together as we
sat down, and Aunt Christie lifted up her hand a usual habit of
hers when she was going to speak : " We cannot possibly stand
that story," Liz went on; "you would make it last half an
hour."
Tom took out his watch. " How long would it take you to
tell it ? " he said gravely to Mr. Brandon.
"I think I could polish it off in about forty seconds," he
answered.
" Let him try then let him try," Aunt Christie said. " I'm
sure my stories are very interesting, and some of them a great
deal more to your credit than any of your present goings on."
"Now then," said Tom, with his watch still in his hand,
" off ! "
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 259
" I never promised to tell it at all."
" You've lost two seconds."
" Well, then, my dear young father's crest was a dragon, and
I had a mug which had been his a silver mug with his crest
on it, and out of it I used to drink the small beer of my child-
hood. Dick, then about eight years old, once, when his parents
came to lunch, and brought him with them, was taken upstairs to
dine with us in our nursery, and as I tilted up my mug to drink,
he noticed that the dragon's tongue was out ! and he managed to
convey some notion to my mind that the circumstance was
ignominious ; he would have it that my dragon was putting out
his tongue at me. So after wrangling all dinner-time about this,
we fought under the table with fisticuffs. As soon as we had
finished How does the time get on ? "
" Thirty seconds ! "
"Dick was remarkably pugnacious, and when we met
which was rather often we always fought, either about that,
or something else, till my mother found it out, and told me
various stories about St. George, and I began to make a kind of
hero of him in my mind. She comforted me as regarded the
dragon's tongue, by telling me what a wicked beast he was. He
did that to defy St. George, she said "
" Time's up ! "
"All right, I have told you quite enough."
"Ill take ten more seconds and finish it," said Liz; "so
mamma used to call him her little St. George. But Dick and
Giles fought almost every holiday. It was not all malice, you
know, but partly from native pugnacity, and partly to see which
was strongest. Till the families quarrelled they were always at
daggers drawn, and then to show their perversity, I suppose,
Dick declared he didn't see what there was to contend about
took St. George's part most vehemently said there was no fellow
in the neighbourhood that was such a dear friend of his, and
they've been as intimate as possible ever since."
" A minute and five seconds in all," said Tom.
"And very badly told," said Aunt Christie; "as I tell it 1
can assure you it's a very pretty, I may say an affecting, story,
and how his mother talked to him, and what he said he was a
dear little fellow, that he was."
2 6o OFF THE SKKLLIGS.
" But it's very awkward for a man of my modest natme to
have your stories told to his face, 1 ' said St. George toughing, and
she, with a real look of disappointment, said it was too cold to ']
ait out of doors. I was full of ruth to think she was cut shot
in her tales, and as I took off my gloves to tie her veil, which
was coming off, I said, " Never mind, Aunt Christie, tell aoaft
of your stories to me when none of them are by to interfere ; yon
shall tell me this very story if you like, every bit of it, parties
larly what the mother said, for evidently those must have hem
prophetic words."
She gave me a pleased smile as she rose, and Mr. Brandon
took my hand, as I thought, to help me up, instead of which, to
my great surprise, he stooped and kissed it in the most open
manner possible.
Aunt Christie was standing by, looking down upon us, so that
she must have seen this, but she did not betray the least surprise.
Tom and Liz were already plunging up the slope together, among
deep layers of dead leaves, and for some time nothing was said;
at length he broke silence by saying something to me about Mia
Braithwaite.
He was so sorry we had not met ; he thought she would liko
to see me.
I replied, " Perhaps, then, she will come and call on me in a
day or two," and he looked, I thought, just a little surprised,
and walked by me in silence till I made some remark about the
gathering damp, when, instead of answering, he began to talk of
his regard for her; in short, of his great affection. She was
excellent, it appeared ; she was remarkable, she was delightful.
He broke off this eulogy with a sudden start.
" Well, if I mean to go at all I must go now. Good-bye."
" Shall we not see you at dinner, then V I asked.
" Oh yes, certainly ; " he had passed through the little narrow
gate that led into the shrubbery, and before he let me follow him
he detained me a few minutes in conversation, till Tom and lis
came up by another path.
"It gets cold and damp," said Liz; "we ought to be in; n
whereupon he roused himself, and saying once more, " Well, if I
mean to go at all, I must not stay any longer," he and Tom,
dashing through the shrubs together, made off to the stables.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 26 X
I
I found they were stiU in one another's company when, going
H tip to my own room afterwards, I saw them riding down the
B Wigfield road together to Wigfield Grange, Mr. Braithwaite's
W hom ; and I wondered, as I had done several times before, at
tie persevering manner in which these two spirits kept close
r together, though they had never seemed to be so very congenial
r If Mr. Brandon came into the room, Tom was sure to be in
lis wake, and if Tom took himself off, Mr. Brandon's attention
seemed to be excited; he grew restless, and shortly followed
hinn t
It was not till just before dinner was announced that they
walked into the drawing-room. Tom looked and behaved exactly
as usual, but on Mr. Brandon such a change had fallen that it
was impossible not to notice it. All dinner-time he never once
spoke, excepting in his capacity of carver, and in the evening
when he joined us, he stood on the rug so lost in cogitation that
he was quite unconscious of the inquiring looks which passed
from one to the other.
" I say," observed Valentine to me, " Giles is quite out of sorts
since he came from Wigfield. What's the row, I wonder?"
I had my own theory, and though I felt a kind of shame in
admitting it, there was a heartache too. I had known and felt
that for the last few days, whenever I spoke, he had turned his
head instinctively to listen. That was over, he had left us at the
gate as if he grudged the time that was to be spent at Wigfield ;
he had come back and forgotten that grudge. Had Miss Dorinda
said anything to him, or had the mere sight of her fragile form
blotted everything else out of his mind and memory ?
Tom was more talkative than usual ; he seemed to observe
Mr. Brandon's remarkable taciturnity, and to be doing all he
could to make up for it ; he asked Lou to play, and he talked
to Mrs. Honfrey.
I felt that a sort of chill and restraint had fallen on us, and
when Mrs. Henfrey observed that the thermometer had gone
down, and there was a sprinkling of hoar-frost on the ground, I
chose to consider that these sensations were partly owing to the
weather.
" Where is papa ? " said Liz to Valentine.
"Asleep in the dining-room."
262 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" How bad that is for him ; suppose we go and fetch him up
"Will you come too, Dorothea ? "
I was very glad of the proposal, and went with her, Valentine
following. He opened the dining-room door ; the lamp had been
turned down, and in his easy chair before the glowing embers ol
the fire sat the beautiful old man dozing at his ease.
He woke almost instantly. "What, what ah, ay, the
children what is it, my boy 1 do you want me ? "
" No, papa, but you must not sleep here."
" No, no, lazy old man ; is that Miss Graham ? "
" Yes, you'll come upstairs, won't you ? "
" Not yet, my boy ; draw the sofa round there ; and so Giles
has been to Wigfield?"
He got up from his easy chair, and exchanged it for the sofe,
making us sit on it beside him.
" I wish that Wigfield was farther," he continued ; " there is
always some trouble or other when he goes there. Child, Atf
foot's asleep."
Liz sat down at his feet, and taking one on her knee, hegafl
to rub it, while he, passing his hand over my hair, said
" And so you must needs come down, too, and see what to
old man was about ? "
" Liz said I might come."
"You might/ Yes, my sweet, you may always come; what
I don't wish is that you should go"
Delightful he was to every one, and nobody ever seemed to
be in his way. He was so accustomed to the caresses of the
young, that when I took his hand between mine to warm it,
he received the attention as a natural and common one, only
remarking that it always made him chilly to go to sleep after
dinner.
So we sat chatting in the firelight about all sorts of things till
the door was suddenly opened, and in marched Mr. Brandon.
" Well, Giles, you see I am holding a levee down here ; did
you think I was asleep 1 "
Mr. Brandon, I could not help thinking, was somewhat vexed
when he saw us ; and when Liz and Valentine began to talk to
him he answered shortly, and walked about the room with a
sort of restless impatience.
OFF THE SKELLTGS. 2 b 3
"Giles," said his stepfather, "I wish you would sit down."
Giles took a little wicker chair, and bringing it near the sofa,
6at down, but could not be quiet long ; he soon rose, and stand-
ing with his back to the fire, made a kind of occupation of the
chair, and pressed a foot on the spell, or a knee on the seat, to
test its strength. I knew as well as if he had told me so that
he wanted to talk to Mr. Mortimer, but no one else seemed to
see it, and he sighed once or twice, with such restless impatience,
that it pained me to hear him.
" Giles," said Valentine, " you were talking about singing last
Eighty and what do you think Miss Graham says, why, that she
fcever once heard you sing, and did not know you could."
" That is not odd ; she has only been here a week."
"I have often said that I wished you girls would learn to
Accompany your brother," said Mr. Mortimer to Liz.
" We can't, papa ; we have often tried, but we always put him
out. Nobody does him justice in that way but Miss Dorinda."
Mr. Mortimer uttered a little grunt on hearing this.
" But I like those simple things best which want no accom-
paniment," she continued.
" T hate trash," said Mr. Brandon decidedly.
" Sing us something now, St. George."
Mr. Brandon excused himself, and I was so conscious that the
proposal was utterly distasteful to him, and that though he was
concealing it as well as he could, he was out of spirits and
exceedingly out of temper, that I did not venture to add my
voice to the general request.
"I have not heard him sing for a fortnight," observed Mr.
Mortimer, " and it is a treat that I seldom ask for." The chair
continued to be put, as it were, through its paces under the
hands of Giles ; and when Mr. Mortimer added, " And I have
said more than once that I should like to hear that French song
again that he sung at the Wilsons," he said quickly, " So be it,
then," and with a slight gesture of impatience, and no change of
attitude, he instantly began.
Valentine often repeated those verses afterwards, or I should
not have remembered them, so completely did the song and the
manner of it take me by surprise. I had not expected anything
particular, was not prepared, and it made the coYout fta.^k \fc "kcj
264 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
face and the tears into my eyes. It was not a powerful voice, or
rather, being so near to lis, he did not bring it out ; it was not
very clear, at least not then, but there was something in it that
I felt I should never forget that I almost trembled at, so greit
was its effect on me.
8ome man, from dusty Paris, had plunged into the depths of
Normandy, and there he had sat by the wood-fire of a farm-howe,
and fallen in love with its mistress ; but he went away from her,
as it seemed, almost directly, and the ballad proceeded
" Mon seal beau jour a du finir,
Finir dds son aurore ;
Mail pour moi ce dour souvenir
Est du bonheur encore.
En formant lea yeux je revois
L'eclos plein de lumidre,
La haie en fleur, le petit bois,
La ferme et la fermiere."
He betrayed his reluctance to sing throughout, but went to the
end of the ballad
" Cost la qu'un jour je vine m'asseoir
Les pieds blancs de poussi&re ;
Un jour puis en marche et bonsoir
La ferme et la fermidre."
When he had finished no one spoke, no one even said, "Thank
you." Dark as it was, surprise was evident, something had
struck all the listeners. As for me, the echo of that song tyran-
nised over me, and I not only made up my mind fully that Miss
Braithwaite must be at the bottom of it, but also that he
had been alarmed at some change for the worse in her health,
for I had heard her spoken of as very delicate and fragile.
But how easily people may be mistaken ! The very next
morning, as Valentine and I sat plodding together over our
Greek, while Liz and Lou were entertaining some morning
visitors, and Tom and Mr. Brandon were together in the pecu-
liar domain of the latter, we heard a remarkable rumble in the
hall which sounded like the rolling of wheels.
" Whew ! " exclaimed Valentine, " here's the fair Dorinda ! w
" Where ? " I exclaimed, looking out of the window.
" Why in the hall, to be sure."
Before I could ask what b& in&&x&, t\\a doox ^aa slowly opened,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 265
*ad a lady was pushed in who was seated in a large bath-chair ;
she was a very tall, stout lady, and she almost rilled the chair,
which she guided by means of a little wheel in front, while a
perspiring youth propelled her at the back. She must have been
a great weight !
Valentine spoke to her, and helped to guide her chair into a
place from whence she could see the whole room ; her servant
then withdrew, and she said
"Is that Miss Graham? Valentine, will you introduce her
tome?"
It was a pleasant voice that spoke, and I looked her in the
face for the first time. She seemed to be about fifty years old,
and was evidently quite a cripple ; but hex face was charming with
cheerfulness, and her large, handsome features were quite free
from any expression of pain or ill-health. Valentine did as he
was desired. There was no mistake ; this was Miss Dorinda
Braithwaite, and I was so much amazed, that for a few minutes
I could hardly answer her polite expressions of pleasure at
making my acquaintance. She seemed to observe my confusion,
and to be willing to give me time to recover. What she thought
was the cause of it I could not tell ; but I did my best to look
and move as if I was not intensely surprised, though of course
I was ; and when, after talking to Valentine for some time, she
again addressed me, I could behave like other people.
Mr. Brandon, Tom, and Lou presently entered. Lou kissed
Miss Braithwaite, so did Mr. Brandon as composedly as if it
was a matter of course. Her charming face lighted up with
pleasure as she spoke to him, her fondness for him was most
evident; but she seemed to treat him, I observed, as quite a
young man, almost, in fact, as a mother might treat her son, and
she had not been ten minutes in the room before I found out
why Valentine had spoken of her as such a very excellent
person. Without one atom of affectation she made it perceptible
to us, or rather it became perceptible to us, " that God was in
att her thoughts J* She had a curious way, too, of talking about
herself, as if it was just as agreeable to her to be a prisoner in
that chair as it could be to us to walk ; as if, being the will of
God, it must, of course, be all right, and consequently most
desirable; most pleasant
266 OFF THE 8KELLIGS.
I have known some people who, while they talked, seemed to
go up to God ; pierce some high majestic deeps, and reach towards
what, in ordinary hours, is to us His illimitable absence. There
was nothing of that sort here. It seemed rather that she had
brought God down ; God was come among us, and some of us
were grateful and glad.
I don't know how she managed to convey the things she made
apparent to us. She did not say them in so many words ; hut
she thought them, and her thoughts became incidentally evident
She stayed to lunch, was wheeled up to the table, and had a
little sort of shelf fixed on to the front of the chair, which served
her by way of a table. I observed that she had a remarkable
effect on Tom. He perceived that what gave a meaning to her
life and satisfied her was real, and was to her a glorious posses-
sion. He always had taken an intense interest in things unseen.
Here was some one who evidently came a good deal in contact
with them, and felt, concerning that difficult and tremendous
thing, religion, not as if it was some hard thing that one might
do, but some high thing that one might attain.
She stayed about two hours, and Valentine all the time was
not only silent, but crestfallen and oppressed. St. George, on
the contrary, though still very different from his usual self,
appeared to feel her conversation comforting and elevating to
his spirits, for the gloom which had hung about him since the
last evening began to fade by degrees, and at last he too joined in
this talk, but not without great reserve, and more, as it seemed,
to explain her remarks than to advance any thought of his own.
When she said she must go, St. George and the Oubit between
them pushed and pulled her great chair into the hall ; most of
the party went with her, Tom to carry her parasol, Liz and Mrs.
Henfrey with some books that she had borrowed. Valentine
presently returned, and shutting the door of the dining-room, in
which Aunt Christie and I still remained, he performed a kind
of war-dance of triumph and ecstasy round the table.
"She's ruined my prospects," he exclaimed. "She's made
me give it all up. I shall tell St. George it's no go, and then I
hope she'll be happy."
" Ye bad boy ye bad fellow ! " said Aunt Christie, who, I
think, was a little relieved herself that this visit was over. " Are
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 267
Je glad to get rid of that blessed saint ? Look there, and be
shamed of yourself."
We both looked out where she indicated. There was Tom,
^ith his Bailor's gait, walking beside her chair. Strange curiosity !
His eyes while he listened had almost seemed to lighten, so vivid
Was the flash that came with those thoughts that had questioned
of her. There was often a strange awe in his soul which was
Very little connected with either fear or love ; but oh, how glad
ke would have been of any glimpse or any echo coming from
behind the veil 1
St. George walked on the other side, guiding the chair with
Jxis hand, and when they came to the gate of the drive, which
led to the road, they both took leave of her, then they vaulted
Over a little fence and began to walk across the fields.
"They are going to overhaul John Mortimer again," said
Valentine. " I heard St. George asking Graham what he would
do, and where he would go ; and he answered that he would
lather stop at home. St. George said, l No, you wouldn't;'
and Graham actually gave in, and said if he must go anywhere
he would go there. But they don't care so much, I know, about
their argument now, because they've seen Uncle Augustus, and
he does not agree with John in those views of his, you know,
as to the bad effects of a token coinage, and the moment they
found that the two experts were on opposite sides, they left off
trying to make it out."
So they were gone, and gone for the whole evening ; gone,
also, against Tom's wish and at Mr. Brandon's will and pleasure.
Very odd indeed, but not so odd as some other things. I went
up to my room before we took our walk, and began to think all
this over. Miss Dorinda Braithwaite, the girl with the heavenly
countenance ! I had seen her ; she was a helpless cripple in a
chair, and old enough to be my mother.
Did that really matter, or could it ever be likely to matter to
me? I hardly knew, it was all so full of contradiction; but
Tom had never talked privately to me but once since our arrival ;
this was a few days ago, and the subject was his pleasure at
that early conversation in which I had " let it appear that I had
forgotten the colour of Brandon's eyes ! You cannot take the
compliments, attentions, ot even the apparent &&no\a.o&. oil T&ssa.
268 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
too lightly," said my Mentor ; " depend on it, they never
anything whatever, unless they ask you point-blank to
them as soon as may be."
" Very well," I answered, " I shall not forget what you say- **
So I thought of it in my room, and decided that for the pre-
sent I would insist upon it that nothing meant anything.
We had plenty of amusement and talk that night, and wwC*
It was very cold, and we did not sit up till the return of Ton*
and St. George ; hut after I retired to my room and dismissed
Mrs. Brand, whom I had soon done with, I heard their voieefii
in the next room as I sat with my feet on the fender indulging
in a pleasant reverie.
Tom's room was next to mine ; the two fireplaces were back
to back, and I had often noticed that Mr. Brandon and he used
to talk together there at night before the former retired to his
own room.
This evening was very windy and chilL They evidently had
a fire, for I could hear them knocking the logs about. I also
heard their voices, for they were talking in far louder tones than
usual, and though Tom's soft voice was indistinct, Mr. Brandon's
answers were so impressively clear that I was afraid I should
soon hear the words, and as soon as I could I retired to bed,
which was at the farther side of the room ; but even with my head
upon the pillow I heard all the tones, though not the words, of
a long argument. Mr. Brandon evidently had the best of this
argument, and he also had the poker, for he emphasised his
remarks with most energetic thrusts at the fire.
The imperative mood is used "for commanding, exhorting,
entreating, and permitting." Mr. Brandon, to judge by his
voice, put it through all its capabilities, and Tom sank to silence,
till, at the end of a long harangue, a question seemed to be asked,
and Tom answered. Then I heard words.
" You won't 1 " asked in a tone of sudden astonishment and
anger.
" No, I won't."
" Then I say you will."
The harangue began again ; it was vehement, the answers grew
short. The harangue rose to eloquence, persuasion, entreaty;
the answers grew faint. At last both voices became gentle and
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 269
ticahle. Whatever the dispute had been it was over, and not
.thout some cariosity I heard Mr. Brandon close the door and
eal softly upstairs to his own domain.
I was sure they had been quarrelling, and the next morning
lien I came down I watched for their appearance that I might
e how they accosted each other.
They came in together, and fully equipped for a journey.
" Going out before breakfast ? " exclaimed Mrs. Henfrey.
u No, we breakfasted an hour ago," replied Mr. Brandon coolly.
** We are going to run up to town for for a week or a fortnight."
I looked at Tom in surprise ; he did not seem at all eager for
the journey, but -was quiet and gentle. He kissed me and was
Baying "Good-bye," when I exclaimed in a low tone, "Dear
Tom, are you going to leave me here by myself ? "
Tom shrugged his shoulders, and said drearily that Brandon
was bent on being off ; he never saw such a restless fellow, he
hated stopping at home.
" Gome, old fellow," said Mr. Brandon, " we shall be late for
the train, and my dog-cart is brought round."
He took my hand in his, and said something about his regret
at leaving home when I was in it, and then he marched off after
Tom. They got into the dog-cart and drove away.
" Ah ! " said Mr. Mortimer, when they were gone, and we were
seated at breakfast, " it was dull here for young Graham, very
dulL Not used to a country life. No, they'll get on better in
town."
" He certainly seems as if he had taken out a patent for hold-
ing his tongue," observed Valentine.
The sisters frowned at him and glanced at ma Mr. Mortimer
went on
" Giles wanted to be off yesterday morning, and came down to
consult me about it the night before ; but I reminded him of
an engagement he had, and so they agreed to stay." He spoke
with great deliberation and composure.
I answered, feeling hurt that my brother should be so mis-
understood, and also feeling anything but pleased with Mr.
Brandon
"I am sure that Tom was very well content to be here ; 1
think he went to please Mr. Brandon."
270 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" "Well," said Mr. Mortimer calmly, "perhaps he did, my dear;
perhaps he did. St. George may have had reasons for wishing
to go out."
" Oh yes, certainly."
" And if so, he could hardly leave his friend behind, could he!
For my part, when he proposed the trip, I said, ' Go, by all
means/ "
It was most evident to my mind that this journey was not of
Tom's contriving, and that though the family supposed it to to
done to please him, it was really done at Mr. Brandon's will and
pleasure. I said no more, but when after breakfast I sat waiting
in the morning-room till Valentine came in to do his Greek, I
felt that all my self-command was needed to conceal my extreme
annoyance, surprise, and even shame.
What could this be for? why was he so very anxious all on a
sudden to get away ? I said to myself that I now knew he had
been flirting with me, but he had not been obliged to go into it
unless he liked. Why, then, in such a hurry to escape ? Did he
think I had shown too much pleasure in his society, that it
behoved him to take himself out of my way ? I did not know
what to think, but I felt that he had done very wrong to drag
Tom from this quiet country place, where he had really been
cheerful and pleased, and take him within two or three hours of
Southampton, a place I never liked to think of his having
anything to do with.
Enter Valentine.
" I'm so glad St. George is gone ! "
" Why ? "
" Because now I shall have you all to myself. I wonder what
he is going to do with your brother."
" You talk of Tom as if he was a child. I do not see myself
how he could stop any longer here when your brother showed
him so plainly that he didn't wish it."
" Well, you must admit that it was very heavy work amusing
him here ! There was nothing for him to do that he -cared for.
Dear me, what a sigh ! I say "
" Yes."
" If you think I am going to call you Miss Graham all my
life, you are mistaken. The girls don't. So as you have no
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 27 1
objection, I shall call you D. ; that simple initial escapes the
formality that I dislike, and is more distant than Dorothea. If
I am encouraged, I shall sometimes add a simple expression of
Regard to show my kind feelings towards you."
" I shall not encourage you."
"Aunt Christie's going away to-day, so if you don't keep
friends with me you will be very dull"
" I love Aunt Christie, but though she is going I shall not
encourage you."
" No ; I believe if you had as many names as the Smilex simu-
Zata, you would like to be called by them all. I saw a plant
labelled once for the benefit of the ignorant public in Kensington
Gardens Smilex eimulata the Simulated Smilax, a Smilaceous
plant. What do you think it was ? Why, a wallflower ! "
" I consider you to be a kind of literary rag-bag full of scraps
of information. I do not care for the illustration, and I shall
at present not allow you to call me D."
" I consider you to be oppressively clever. I don't like you.*
" And I wish to begin the reading "
" So we will, D., my dear."
From that time he always insisted on calling me "D., my
dear," and at last I tired of telling him not, and became accus-
tomed to the appellation. Indeed, after that first day, he afforded
almost my whole amusement, and devoted himself to me with a
simple naivete which was quite consistent with a good deal of
plain speaking. He also afforded me occupation in helping him
with his studies ; but for this salutary tie I should have had
nothing to do, for a visitor arrived to whom Liz and Lou devoted
much of their attention, so much that I could not but wonder
what they found to like or to admire. This visitor was a Cap-
tain Walker of the Fusiliers, a dull man, silent to a degree,
and who when he did talk seemed to have but one idea his
brother, his twin brother, who had married their sister Emily.
Of his brother he could talk a little when other people were pre-
sent ; but when he was alone with Liz and Lou I used to think
he must have talked of something else, for I observed several
times that on my entrance there was a sudden silence, and Lou, by
whom he was sitting, would look a little flushed, while Liz was
generally stationed with her back to them, writing in a window*
272 OFF THE SKELLIOS.
It was about this time I think that a certain newspaper squib
appeared which caused much anguish to Mr. Mortimer, but
which Valentine, though angry at it, could not help quoting
with great glee when we were alone. I do not remember it aD,
but the precious effusion began thus :
' Brandon of Wigfield, we do you to wit,
That to lecture the masses you're wholly unfi^
Worthy, but weak Mr. Brandon J
You haven't a leg to stand on,
' Don't cheer me/ you sighed,
* Ub weren't going,' they cried,
And they hissed you instead, Mr Brandon.
" Who are you, Sir, that argies and wrangles?
Who are you, Sir, that talk about mangles,
And suds, and the starching that fallen,
As if you got up yer own collars,
And kettles, and pots, you young sinner,
As if you could cook your own dinner,
Or sew on one blessed pearl button,
Or hash a cold shoulder of mutton ?
Worthy, but weak Mr. Brandon/' Ac
I was secretly enraged at this squib, and sympathised with
Mr. Mortimer. I even ventured once when we were alone to
express this sympathy, and the dear old man received it with
evident pleasure ; but whenever his father was out of hearing
Valentine's cracked voice might be heard crowing out
" Worthy, but weak Mr. Brandon,
You haven't a leg to stand on."
CHAPTEE XXTTT.
" I'm young and strong, my Marion ;
None dance like me on the green ;
And gin ye forsake me, Marion,
I'll e'en draw up with Jean."
I did not now sit in the morning-room, for I could not find in
my heart to make Lou uncomfortable, and I observed that my
proposal to Mrs. Henfrey that Valentine and I should read in
the drawing-room with her was met with such ready willingness,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 273
that I could not but suppose she wished Captain Walker to hay e
every opportunity for making himself agreeable.
After we had read, we took a walk or a drive ; indeed, we
Wre thrown together almost all day long, and I was so keenly
*Ware of the folly I should commit if I indulged any dream with
leepect to Mr. Brandon, that I tried earnestly to write and walk,
to talk and practise as much as I could, and starve him out of
Hay thoughts by occupying myself with other things.
He had deliberately gone away in the very midst of his
apparent interest about me. It was not to please Tom, that I
t*%d plainly seen ; and there had been no talk of business.
"Well," said Valentine, one day when we set out for our
Talk, " I consider that Giles is in for a thousand pounds."
" What do you mean ? "
" Oh, don't you know that he gave Emily that sum when she
*r&8 married, and promised it to the others ? "
"No, I had not heard it."
" Well, he did ; and he is to let me have the same sum to put
*&e to College. That's what gives him so much power over me."
" 1 did not know he was rich."
* He isn't ; but he has plenty. That, I am bound to say, is
my pa's doing. Why, this house belongs to Giles."
"Indeed!"
"Yes; papa was his father's guardian. His father died
suddenly, you know, before he was born."
" I have heard that."
" So papa and sister went and fetched poor mamma here, and
abe stayed till after Giles was born ; she did nothing but cry,
and made them so miserable. She used to sit, when she got a
little better, under that laurustinus tree and nurse Giles, and
cry over him. Then she said she should be happier if she went
to her own people in Scotland ; so papa took her there, and she
Boon got better, and married Mr. Grant. Well, then, most of
what Mr. Brandon had left became the property of his child,
and papa was his guardian, and managed it so well, that by the
time Giles was of age his patrimony was nearly doubled. Bid
you ever hear the story of how papa came to marry mamma ? "
"No. Tell if me."
" Why, of course papa and mamma used to coms^cmk de*3v&
274 OTF THE SKELLIG8.
Giles, and papa wished him to go to school, and there was a
kind of coolness between them, because papa thought it bo ally
of T TV"nTTift. to marry again so soon. Well, after Mr. Grant had
been dead a year, there was some business to be settled, and
mamma had some papers to sign about Giles. But papa had
the gout and could not go to Scotland, so mamma had to come to
him, and she left Giles behind, for fear papa should want to
get him and send him to school.
" She came here in a snowstorm, and papa was very cross and
grumbling a good deal about his gout. He was nearly sixty
then, and had been a hind of widower thirty years. "When ho
found that mamma had left Giles behind he was very angry.
I can't tell the story as well as sister does ; it's the only one she
ever does tell well. She was with papa, and when he said,
* Are there no possible means, madam, by which I can get that
boy into my hands ? ' mamma said, ' I cannot tell what means you
may have in reserve, but those which you have tried at present
are quite ineffectual' Sister thought they were going to quarrel,
so she got out of the room as fast as she could ; but when she
came in again (mamma was always considered a very fascinating
person), she found papa in an excellent temper, and he told her
he had been talking with Mrs. Grant, and she had promised to
let him have her son. And so mamma did, you know, but she
came with him and Liz and Lou and Emily also. I have
always thought it showed a beautiful spirit of discernment in
my dear mother, that no sooner was I born than she perceived
my superior merit, and showed an open preference for me over
all her other children. On the other hand, so blind is poor
human nature, that papa always had a kind of infatuation in
favour of Giles. Papa sent Giles to Trinity, and wished him to
study law, but he hates the law, and says if he marries he shall
buy land and go and settle in New Zealand. It is a lucky thing
for us that papa managed so well for him, for now Giles always
persists that we have a claim on his property in consequence. n
From day to day Valentine and I cultivated our intimacy.
We went together to call on Miss Dorinda, we took rides to-
gether and went fern-hunting in the woods, we studied, we
quarrelled, and made it up again. We were at first glad to be
together for want of other society, but by degrees we got used
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 275
to each other, and liked to discuss in company the progress of
Captain Walker's wooing, the various croquet parties we went
to, and the neighbours who came to lunch and to call.
Once, and only once, Valentine gave himself a holiday from his
Greek, and left me all the morning. About three o'clock he re-
tuned and burst into the room, exclaiming that he should not have
been so late if he had not fallen in with a crowd of people running
to Farmer Coles', and declaring that one of his ricks was on fire.
" I ran after them, hoping to see the fun, and help to throw
water, when Tim Coles, the farmer's own brother, lagged behind
and began to lament and talk about his feelings. ' Come, Tim/
said I, ' you block up the stile ; let me get over.' * Ah ! ' said
he, * my poor brother ! blood's thicker than water.' * So I per-
ceive,' said I, * so much thicker that it won't run.' Put that
into your novel ; it's much better than anything you can invent
yourself. Well, we soon had the fire out. I was too late for the
train, but though I had to wait for the next, I was glad ; for
Charlotte was there, and Prentice : they were waiting for old
Tikey to come down from some missionary meeting he'd been
to. We amused ourselves with 'planting. Charlotte said,
'If I were to plant you and what you frequently do, myself
and something indefinite, what would come up ? ' but, dear
me ! you never can guess anything, and, besides, an old salt like
you ought not to plant ; you should fish. If I were to throw my-
self into the sea when you were fishing, what should you catch ? "
"An odd fish?"
" No."
"A flat-fish ?"
" No, you crab, but a great sole. A friend of St. George's used
to say that he was all soul so am I, except my body. Come,
111 give you another plant. If I were to plant the mother of
hexagons painted gold-colour, and what I should like to give you,
what would come up ? Do you think it would be a bee orchis ? "
" I consider you a very impertinent boy. Besides, they ought
to spell."
" No, they belong to the botanical, not to the educated, classes.
Scene for the novel 'And here the graceful youth, producing a
costly ring, and dropping on one knee, took her hand and
pressed it to his finely-formed lips, as was his frequent habit.' "
276 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" He did nothing of the kind ! " I exclaimed. " How dan
you ! you never did kiss it, and you never will. Do you thin I
am going to hang my hand over the end of the sofa that, as Saiiey
Gamp says, you ' may put your lips to it when so dispoged 1 !
" Why, you don't think I was in earnest, do you ? " exclaimed
Valentine, shaking with laughter. "Kiss your hand, indeed!
I wouldn't do such a thing on any account, I can tell you ! No,
it was a scene." And he stuck a little ring on the top of one of
his great fingers, and said in a more colloquial tone, " Just see if
this fits, will you ? "
"Yes, it fits pretty well"
" It only cost seven-and-sixpence."
" And quite enough, too, for it is a rubbishing little thing."
" Well, keep it, then, for the present, lest I should lose it
And now I am going to tell you a thrilling tale, and appeal to
all your better feelings."
"Do."
" You must know, then, that the day Giles went away, he got
up very early indeed ; I heard him, and got up too, and went
into his room while he was shaving. I told him I had only five
shillings in my pocket, and put it to him, * as a man and a
brother/ whether, considering the state of his own finances, he
had the heart to let such a state of things continue. It was onee
his own case how did he like it, I asked. The wretch
answered, ' Vheureux temps quand fetais si malheureux 1 ' and
went on lathering himself in a way that was very unfeeling, con-
sidering how late my whiskers are in coming. ' What do you want
to buy ? ' said Giles. I told him a ring. ' Whew ! ' he answered.
' A ring ! Why can't you seal your letters with a shilling f
Well, come,' he said, * if you'll have your father's crest well cut,
I'll give you five pounds.' * What ! ' I answered, ' do you think
I am such a muff as to want a signet ring ? JSTo, I want one for
a present.' Well, by that time I had got the five sovereigns.
'A present!' said Giles, with infinite scorn, 'for whom?' I
told him it was for a lady, and instead of treating the matter as
if it was the most natural thing in the world, he laughed in an
insulting manner, and then turned grave, and desired me not to
make myself ridiculous by any such foolery. He wanted to know
the iadj's name, and said if it was Fanny Wilson, I was most
OFF THE SKELLIGa 277
areaumptuons ; indeed, at my age, it would be very impertinent
10 do such a thing, and that papa would be very angry. He
idded, D. dear, that if I would only wait a couple of years, there
really was no saying what might happen in that quarter. I said
it was not Fanny Wilson, ' Has it any reference, then, to that
foolish boy Prentice ? ' he next asked. I could not altogether
say that it had not. ' Because if it has, and you give a ring to
Charlotte on purpose to vex him, I shall be much disappointed
in you,' he said. I said I could not divulge the lady's name,
but of course I could not help laughing/ because he was so grave
and so angry, and seemed so astonished at my folly. No lady, he
said, would accept a ring from a mere boy. ' I'll bet you all the
money that I don't spend in the ring/ I said, ' that this lady
does.' * If she does,' said Giles, ' I'll give you five sovereigns
more.' Only think of that ! I know if he had not been in such
a hurry that he would have made me tell him everything. As
it is, D. dear, I can make myself happy in the hope of future
pelf ; the ring is for you."
" For me ! how dare you ! "
"Yes, for you. It has been my happy privilege already
to-day to make a fellow-creature perfectly miserable. Prentice
is now, I have little doubt, tearing his hair."
Upon this I took off the ring and laid it inside the fender,
where I told him it would remain unless he picked it up.
Following his brother's lead, I also said that if he had done it
in earnest it would have been very foolish, but as it was in joke
it was impertinent.
" It's all Prentice's fault," he burst out " He gave Charlotte
a ring, and I shall never be able to subdue him unless I can
match him; his insolence is insufferabla You should have
seen his jealous misery to-day when I said, carelessly, that I was
going to buy a ring. I hate that fellow at least so far as
is consistent with Christian charity, I do. The great joy and
desire of his life is to do what nobody else can ; but if other
young fellows can be engaged at nineteen, why, there is no glory
in it, and no grandeur either. However, I shall pick up the
ring, and trust to your better feelings not to deprive me of all
this money."
We argued and bickered some time, and tnen mra wms&fe&%
278 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
What, indeed, was the use of quarrelling with a youth whose
simplicity was so transparent, and whose temper was so imper-
turbable 1
That night the ring was sent to me with a polite note begging
my acceptance of it I returned it the next morning before I
left my room in a similar note declining to receive it. Thii
process was repeated every night and every morning till the next
Sunday, when, as we were walking home from church, Valentine
exclaimed, " I say, Prentice has been low all this week, and now
he despairs. I heard him speak snappishly to Charlotte, upon
which she replied, * Well, how can I help it if they do correspond!'
What an inconsiderate world this is ! J would not on any account
make a fellow so miserable as you have made Prentice ! M
" Correspond ! what do you mean 1 "
" Oh, I remarked to Prentice, in the course of conversation, that
we corresponded ; so we do we write daily. That is entirely
your doing. I should never have thought of such a thing."
The note with the ring in it was sent to me as usual that
night, and for the first time Liz was with me. Mrs. Brand brought
it in with the usual simper and the usual message. " Mr. Valen-
tino's compliments, ma'am, and wishes you pleasant dreams. " I
told the story to Liz, and she was very much amused ; but when
I related the anecdote about the correspondence, she agreed with
me that the joke must be put a stop to, and we thought the best
thing for me to do in order to effect this would be to make over
the ring to somebody else.
So I put it on her finger, and the next morning, after break-
fast, I saw it catch Valentine's eye, and heard him ask her where
she got it.
"Oh," sh e replied carelessly, "it is a thing that Dorothea
had no value for, so she gave it to me."
" Did she 1 " said Valentine, with joyful readiness ; " then the
game is won at last, and I'll write at once for that photograph-
ing camera ; it only costs ;8, 10$., and now I can have it."
Lou and Captain Walker, who were evidently in possession of
the facts, looked on amused, and I asked what the ring had to
do with the camera.
Valentine replied that people could not give away what did
not belong to them, therefore it was evident, by my own act, that
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 279
I acknowledged the ring to be mine, I had accepted it, and given
it away ; so he should at once appropriate the promised gift from
81 George.
It was quite in vain for me to protest and declare ; everybody
was against me ; even Mrs. Henfrey was roused to interest, and
laughed, and demonstrated to me that nothing could be clearer
than Valentine's case.
The camera was ordered that very morning, and we that is,
Valentine and I spent from that time forth several hours of
each day in taking portraits with it. Hideous things some of
them were; they had an evil grin on their faces, so we tried
sitting with gravity, and then the portraits glared at beholders
with desolate gloom. At last we grew tired of troubling our-
selves as to the expression of our faces ; sat carelessly, and some
very good ones came out, which we spoilt by overburning in the
sun, or spotted by soaking in a badly-mixed bath.
We set the camera out of doors on the lawn, and worked at
this new trade till at last, when we had wasted more than half
the stock of chemicals, we arrived at tolerable skill, and took
Captain Walker's unmeaning face, light eye, and sandy whiskers
so well, that even Mrs. Henfrey declared it to be a speaking
likeness, and arrayed herself in velvet, and came out on the
lawn to sit
Mr. Mortimer encouraged this rage for photography on the
ground that it was good for Valentine's lungs to be out so much
in the air.
St. George being away, we adopted the smoking-room, and
used it as a portrait gallery, and stuck the pictures all over his
walls with pins. There they hung to dry, while we, having
stained our fingers of a lively brown with collodion, and having
arrived at tolerable skill, sighed for new worlds to conquer, and
took the portrait of every child and monitor in Giles's own par-
ticular village school, where he had a select company of little
girls bringing up on purpose to be sent to Canada.
We then took portraits in character. Valentine bought a pair
of moustaches and came out as a brigand. I was dressed up as
a fish girl, having a basket of mackerel on my head, which we
got from the cook. Those mackerel stood a long time in the
sun, and when they appeared at table the iamVbj fort^a^ \a
2 8o OFF THE SKELLIOS.
]artke of them, but the photograph was the very best we
ever did.
As time went on, I was the more glad of this occupation, for
we heard nothing of Tom and Mr. Brandon, and as no one bat
Valentine and myself seemed to think this at all singular, I
sometimes thought the family must know something of their
movements ; though, when I made any remark on Tom's long
absence, Mr. Mortimer and Mrs. Henfrey would reply to the
effect that it was dull in the country.
One day, when the weather was particularly fine, and we, after
working hard at our Greek, had taken some very successful
photographs, Valentine got Liz to lend him the ring, and asked
me just to put it on while my portrait was being taken as a
bridesmaid. I declined, for I had a suspicion that some further
torture to Prentice would ensue, but as he made a great point of
it, and I did not like to yield, I at last went in and ensconced
myself in the smoking-room. As I stood by the table he shortly
entered, bearing the ring on a large silver waiter, and following
me about the room, laughing and begging me to put it on. He
walked after me round and round the table. I then retreated
before him till the walk became a run, and I at last darted out
of the room and ran upstairs, he striding after, vowing that I
should wear it. In that style, both out of breath with laughing,
we ran up one staircase and down another, up the gallery and
along the wing, the ring rattling and dancing on the waiter, and
Valentine with cracked voice vociferating and quoting; till,
stopped at last by the window seat, I turned to bay quite breath-
less, and he dropped on one knee and held up his waiter with
the ring on it still laughing, but unable to articulate a word.
At this precise point of time a door close at hand flew open,
and somebody coming out nearly tumbled over Valentine's legs.
Mr. Mortimer !
Nothing could exceed the intense surprise of his countenance
when he saw Valentine's attitude and the ring. In spite of our
laughter, it was evident that this little tableau had greatly struck
him, and after a pause of a few seconds, he turned again very
quietly into his dressing-room and shut the door behind him
without saying a word.
Now if he had laughed or spoken, I should not have thought
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 28 1
80 much of it, but that withdrawal and that great surprise were
very mortifying, because it seemed to show that he did not treat
the matter as the silly joke of a boy.
Valentine saw this as well as I did, and when he rose from
his knees he looked very foolish. I was not in the best humour
possible, and as we walked downstairs together in a very crest-
fallen state, Mr. Mortimer's surprise being far more disconcerting
than Valentine's joke, I said I thought he had better go and
explain the whole thing to his father, make light of it, and
expressly say that the ring was only offered as an ornament to
be worn in a portrait.
For once he was out of countenance, and made excuses. His
father, he was sure, would ask what he meant by it ; perhaps
would inquire if he meant anything serious.
"He will say nothing of the kind," I answered with some
asperity ; " ridiculous ! Even if he did, you would only have to
speak out and say 'no/ like a boy and a Briton."
" I shan't say anything of the sort," he answered sulkily. " I
like you better than any girl in the world. Charlotte's nothing
to you, nor Jane Wilson either."
I was very angry with him for talking such nonsense, but I
argued the point with him, and proved by force of reasoning
that he and I were friends and could be nothing else. He began
to yield. I 'might be right. I summed up the facts, and his
mind inclined to agree with me. Then why had he been so
foolish ? He said he didn't exactly know. I supposed it must
have been out of perversity. He thought it must have been,
and, recovering his spirits, began to whistle.
So having by this time returned to the lawn, I sat down on a
heap of mown grass, and began to harangue him on the necessity
of his going to explain matters to his father, when I suddenly
forgot the subject, in consequence of a circumstance which took
place, and did not think of it again for an least an hour.
He was sitting at my feet, playing with the mown grass, and
blushing, when hearing footsteps close to us, he looked up and
exclaimed, " Why, here's Giles, I declare ! " and Mr. Brandon,
stepping up, shook hands with me and looked at me with some
attention.
No wonder, for I was arrayed in white tarlatan*, 1\^Sl^ckj^t^
232 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
of flowers on my head, and my upper skirt was filled with
bunches of lilac, laburnum, and peonies. Captain Walker bad
taken great pains to persuade Lou to be taken dressed as a bride,
while Liz and I strewed flowers before her in the character of
bridesmaids. At the last moment, when all seemed propitiww,
Lou had failed the poor man, but Liz and I, determined not to
have the trouble of dressing for nothing, intended to be taken
without her.
"0 Mr. Brandon," I exclaimed, "you are come home!
Where is Tom ? is he up in his room ? "
" No," he answered cheerfully, and as if he wished me to
think his announcement a commonplace one, but could not
quite manage it. " I left him behind with the Captain. He
sent his love to you. We only spent four days in town, and 1
have been cruising about with them ever since. They put me
ashore yesterday at Gosport."
" He is not ill ? "
" No no, certainly not ; I never saw him looking better, nor
the Captain either."
I had already stayed at Mr. Mortimer's house nearly the whole
of the month for which we had been invited. Tom, I could
not but think, was treating him very cavalierly by this strange
withdrawal, and here was I left alone with no directions how to
act, and a positive certainty now that there was something in
the background which I did not understand.
I said I hoped he had brought me some letters. He answered,
with the same open air of cheerfulness, No, he had not, but that
Tom had promised to write very soon.
" Hang him ! " said Valentine, with sudden vehemence.
" Promised to write to his own sister ! But," he added, in a
sympathising voice, cracked though it was, "never mind, D.
dear ; you must stop, you know, till he comes to fetch you, and
won't that be a trial to this child ! Never mind ! he'll try and
bear it."
There was something very affectionate in his manner, and as
Mr. Brandon did not say a single word, but merely stood by
looking on, he continued his remarks, interspersing them with
many quotations and jokes, to which I could not respond, and
Mr. Brandon did not.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 283
My sensations of shame at the way in which I had been left
on the hands of this family, the fear lest I should intrude, and
the consciousness that they were perfectly aware that Tom cared
nothing either for their feelings in the matter or for mine, so
much overpowered me that I sat down in the glorious sunshine
on my heap of grass, mechanically holding my lap full of flowers,
and wondering what I was to do if neither Tom nor my uncle
did write before the end of the week.
Still Mr. Brandon stood like a statue beside me, and still
Valentine talked ; but I only heard his words as if they had
been a slight noise a long way off that had nothing to do with
me. I was thinking on the uncertainties of wind and tide.
My uncle had put to sea, and who could tell when he might be
in port again.
A momentary silence recalled me to myself. Valentine,
having finished all he had to say, paused, and then exclaimed,
with sudden vehemence
" Now, D. dear, I shall never believe you again when you say
that you can't help moving. If you would only sit in this way
you would make a lovely negative, I'm positive. As for Giles,
he is as still as a stone. How I wish I could take him with his
nose relieved so beautifully against that laurel tree ! "
I answered that as Iiz did not come, I would go in and dress
for dinner.
I did go in, and found Mrs. Brand in my room waiting for
me, and pushing a letter into her pocket.
" Is that from Brand 1 " I asked.
She said it was, and, declaring that I was very late, began to
excite a most unnecessary bustle, pulling out gowns and sashes,
and strewing my possessions about the room.
"Don't be so nervous," I said. "I will not ask you any
questions."
Instead of answering, she reminded me that visitors were
expected to dinner, and pretended to be very anxious about the
plaiting of my hair. Her agitation made her longer than usual
about my toilet, but that was a comfort, for I wanted a little
time, not to gain information, for that at present I shrank from,
but to gather courage, and become able to attend to what was
about me.
284 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
I had a suspicion floating in my mind I had cherished it
for some time. The foundation for it was very slight, and I
was anxious not to betray it on any account, hut to appear
cheerful and easy about Tom till the last moment before I *u
compelled to have the suspicion verified.
I had so completely subsided into the family during the last
fortnight, and become so accustomed to pay Mr. Mortimer the
little attentions of a daughter, instead of receiving from him the
attentions of a host, that when I advanced into the long drawing-
room a certain change of manner in him arrested my attention
instantly.
He spoke to mo, set a chair for me near his own, and, making
some kind remark about Tom, said, as if on purpose to set me at
my ease, that as my brother could not come back, he hoped I
should make up for it by prolonging my own stay as long as I could
make it convenient or find it agreeable. To this formal invita-
tion I returned a grateful answer ; but I derived a kind of notion,
from the manner of it, that it was at Mr. Brandon's suggestion.
I thought he perceived the likelihood of my receiving no direc-
tions, and wished to spare me the pain of feeling that I was
encroaching by letting me first have an invitation to stay.
Mr. Mortimer received my answer politely, but the kind of
familiar, almost loving, manner which he had assumed towards
me of late was altered. He had become courteous again, and
treated me as he did his other guests, who now began to arrive.
The fine woman was present, and her daughter Jane.
This young lady had a very large fortune, and I had often
heard her talked of. I looked at her with some interest. She
had been called a heavy-footed girl, and she certainly was no sylph,
but I thought her rather a fine young creature, and observed that
her mother kept a watchful eye upon her, noting who talked to
her, and who came to her side. Specially she was watchful of
Mr. Brandon, and when he talked to Jane, which he did rather
often, I thought that the daughter was much pleased, but that
the mother was not pleased.
Neither need have cared ; there was no interest in his manner
that could give reasonable hope to the one or fear to the other.
During the evening I felt impelled to watch Giles, and wander
whether he had anything in his mind which he would com-
OFT THE SKELLIGS. 285
municate to me. He seemed aware of this, and never approached
me. If he had anything to say, that was certainly not the time.
Once I chanced to be standing in the same group with him, but
he remained mute till it dispersed, and only Valentine was left,
when he said to him, " Oubit, I shall expect you to read with me
before breakfast to-morrow. "
"All right !" said Valentine. "Well, D. dear, how did you
get on at dinner-time with your brilliant companion ? "
" You will be overheard, Val," said St. George.
And Valentine continued in a lower key, " Silly of Lou to
persist in sitting apart from him. Now, if you and I had been
together, we should have been as happy as possible. I say, I
hate this black gown ; why don't you wear white ? Isn't this
thing hideous, Giles f "
Mr. Brandon being thus directly appealed to, just glanced at
the offending array, but made no answer, and presently Jane
Wilson came up.
" Mr. Brandon, you are wanted to sing a duet."
" With whom ? "
" With me."
As Jane Wilson led him off I thought she had a pretty piquant
manner, but I observed that her mother had moved to the piano
before them, and was looking over the music
Three duets were produced one after the other.
" Oh," said Mrs. Wilson, " my dear child, have you the teme-
rity to wish to sing this with Mr. Brandon ? It will make your
defects too evident."
Jane put up the second " Oh, you have had no lessons on
this one, love."
The third was proposed.
"This will do very well," said Mr. Brandon carelessly.
"German," said Mrs. Wilson, "is so very unbecoming to
the voice, and your voice does so completely kill Jane's, that
really"
" Why should she not sing a solo, then ? " said Mr. Brandon.
"This one looks pretty." He placed one on the piano and
walked away from the mortified girl and gratified mother, quite
unconscious as it seemed of the feelings of either, and utterly
indifferent as to whether he sang or not. x
286 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" Isn't that droll ? " said Valentine softly to me, u Every ona
but Giles can see the preference in that quarter."
" He does not see it, then f "
" Evidently not, and I am sure he would not like it if it mi
pointed out"
" Why 1 "
" Oh, because I have often heard him laugh at fellows who
leave the wooing to the ladies, and say nothing was worth having
that did not cost a man some trouble to get, and he should not
thank any woman for doing his work for him."
" He is quite right ; but if he does not see when it is done fox
him, why then he is a short-sighted mortal."
" D., my dear, I do not think there is much fear lest you
should follow in J. W.'s steps. You will take a great deal of
earning, I expect."
" People generally call that winning."
" No ; what they get by good luck or chance they say is won,
but what they work for they say is earned. Now if I could
earn you "
" Don't talk nonsense ; you never would, even if you tried,
which you never will"
" What do you know of my future? Do you pretend to be
a prophetess 1 Now my impression is that I shall try, and if so,
that I shall probably succeed."
" I consider it very impertinent in a boy like you to talk in
this way."
" But it won't be impertinent when I'm a man ! I am consi-
dering what will probably happen when I am a man. Valentine
Mortimer, Esq., of Trin. Coll., Cambridge. I think I see him
now ; he comes riding to the strand on his fine black mare, his
whiskers, I perceive, are brown ; he draws the rein, the yacht
rocks in the offing, a lady waves a handkerchief "
" Well, go on : He comes on board in the market-boat with
the vegetables, singing 'Kule Britannia,' but by the time he
has stepped on deck he is very ill, and says, ' Oh, please let me
go back to my papa, and I'll never do this any more.' "
" So he is put ashore, and the lady becomes a Smilax simidata."
" Does that follow ? "
"On philosophic and general grounds, I should say so
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 287
decidedly. Is it likely indeed in a country where there are
Snore women than men, that each woman should have more than
one good offer?"
" Did I hear yon say ' good ' ? w
"You did. Look at my height; is that nothing? Look
(prophetically) at my whiskers ; will they be nothing ? "
" I should expect to find that remarkably eligible ladies would
have several good offers if the one you seem to promise me is a
specimen of a good one."
" Remarkably eligible I Do my ears deceive me ? or can it be
that you allude to yourself f "
" Of course ; you would hardly be ambitious of securing any-
thing not remarkably eligible ; besides, with those brown whiskers
that are coming, to what might you not aspire, especially if you
are not plucked in your ' little go ' f And to tell you the truth,
I sometimes think you won't be, now that I have taken such
pains with your Greek."
CHAPTER XXIV.
" Quoth the raven, Never more.' "Edgar Pok.
That night I asked Mrs. Brand what Brand had said in his
letter.
She replied, that he had said master's shirts wanted new
wristbands ; and there had been a hole burnt in one of the best
tablecloths. That the captain of the yacht being ashore one
day, Mr. Brandon had persuaded master to let him steer, and
had as nigh as possible run down a lighter; that the cook had
lost two basins overboard ; and that Mr. Graham was all right.
The last piece of information was what I wanted, and I slept
well after it
At breakfast-time the next day I observed that Mr. Brandon
seemed in excellent spirits ; and when I caught his eye, he did
not look at all like a man who had any disagreeable news to
communicate. He preserved his air of open ^^vfl&B&\ x\&.
288 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
when Valentine and I came up into the drawing-room to do our
Greek, we found him standing on the rug arguing with Liz,
declaring that she had nothing to do, and was very much to be
pitied in consequence. Liz said she had a great deal to do, and
declined to be pitied.
He then began to mourn and lament oyer his school. ""Why
did she never go and see it ? "
" Oh, you go yourself every day.*
"But I cannot superintend the needlework; besides, yon
know that when I went out I entreated you girls to look in now
and then."
" Dorothea has been there several tunes," answered Valen-
tine. " She taught that ugly girl, Mercy Porter, to do double*
knitting. Do you know what that is, Giles 1 "
" No. Did you accompany Miss Graham on these visits V
" You will be thankful to hear that I did, Giles. I hope 1
know my duty. There is but a step, you know, between us ; so
no wonder I tread closely on your heels."
Liz, as he said this, was leaving the room ; and when she shut
the door, St. George answered, with unexpected heat and
asperity
"I've often told you that I hate and detest that expres-
sion, 'stepbrother.' I don't acknowledge any such relation-
ship."
" Well, Giles," said Valentine humbly, " I think we both talk
now and then of our stepsisters."
" That's a different thing," he exclaimed, in the face of facts.
" Your father is nothing to them, but he is to me ; and if I ever
heard you call me seriously your stepbrother "
" As if I should think of such a thing ! " cried Valentine, firing
up with sudden indignation. " Now, did you ever hear me do
such a thing seriously in your life did you ? "
" You young scapegrace," answered Mr. Brandon, with a short
laugh, but still looking heated ; " if I did regard you in that
light, I would "
He emphasised his words by giving Valentine a slap on the
head with a thin loose pamphlet that he was holding, and by
approaching his clenched fist very closely to that young gentle-
man's nose. It was a little awkward for me, for I am sure he
OFF THE SKELLIG8. 289
lud not quite made up his mind whether he was in joke or
earnest.
" You would what 1 " cried Valentine, seizing it. " I say this
is assault and battery, Giles, sir ! Let me alone. You would
what 1 "
By this time restored to good temper, they were half wrestling
together ; but Mr. Brandon soon got free. The Oubit received
several other noisy but harmless blows with the pamphlet, and
was pushed down again on the sofa, still vociferating
" You would what, Giles ? You would what ? "
" Why, I would treat you very differently from what I mean
to do," he replied.
And, picking up his pamphlet and charging me to be strict,
he presently departed ; but in two minutes he came back again,
and said to Valentine
" You are going to have a visit from the magistrate this after-
noon a domiciliary visit ; and you had better clear out a little
of your rubbish those two miserable mallards, with cotton wool
for eyes; and that peck of feathers, which you call a cock.
Your father thinks the arsenical paste you dress your bird-skins
with may be injurious to your lungs."
Valentine looked aghast.
"You put that into his head !" he exclaimed.
" Did 1 1 Well, as I said before, you had better look out ; or,
take my word for it, hell teach these birds of yours to fly."
" If he does," said Valentine, " I will take him up to your shop
I declare I will. You'll blow yourself up some day with your
chemicals, and it shall not be my fault if he doesn't think so.
You'll have a visit, too, sir. I must do my duty by you, Giles.
You'll see two majestic figures standing in your doorway, and the
younger one denouncing you. What will you say, then, I should
like to know ? "
For a moment St. George stood stock-still, as if he was really
considering this ridiculous threat ; then
" Scene for ths novel I " he exclaimed. " * His elder brother,
waving off the graceless youth, replied
" ' Take thy BEAK from out my den,
And take this Daniel from my door
(Quoth the Oubit, " Never moxe"V ' *
290 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
He then charged me to be strict, said he was going to his
school, and with that he departed.
" I'm sorry I vexed old Giles," said Valentine, when he bad
smoothed his dishevelled locks ; " particularly as he has been so
generous."
" What has he done ? "
" Done ! Why, given me the money like a brick, and made
no difficulty about it."
" I hope you told him that I only accepted that ring by
mistake."
" I not only told him all about how it happened, but I told
him, honourably, that it was all a joke. I went to his room
when he was shaving. At first I felt very sheepish. I don't
exactly know why ; and (hang him) I am sure he enjoyed my
being out of countenance. At last, just as I had screwed up my
courage to speak, he said ' Well, old fellow, lost or won?' So
I said, Won/ "
" Then I hope he made game of you ; and said it was pre-
sumptuous of you."
"No, he didn't."
" But what was it that he did say ? "
"Why, he said, 'Then there's your money.' And there I
found it laid ready on his desk. Somebody must have told
him."
He paused, and whistled softly, as if reflecting on the possible
author of this communication.
" But I had something to tell him that soon drove that out
of his head," he observed. " Dorinda has done for me ! I pro-
mised St. George quite solemnly that I would seriously reflect,
and all that, you know, while he was away, whether I could
make up my mind about being a clergyman. And I told him
to-day that I had decided I wasn't fit ; and I thought I had
better make short work with it, and say at once that I couldn't
get up any particular wish to be fit. As soon as I could venture
to look at him, I could see how put out and vexed he was.
'You need not think that I shall sanction your going to
Cambridge, ' he said, ' if that is the case.' When he's really dis-
pleased I always give him a soft answer that's a religious thing
to do, and, by experience, I know it answers. So I said I was
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 29 1
^*rj sorry ; but I hoped he would tell my father, for I did not
like to tell him myself; and he was always so kind that I
depended on him to get me out of this scrape. I say, isn't
Giles a good fellow !"
"He is very good to yon ; but I am not at all obliged to him
for taking Tom away just because he was tired of staying here
limself."
" I told him the whole story about the ring, and then about
Dorinda at least, so much of both as he would listen to ; and
he agreed to tell papa. And then he asked me the cost of the
camera, and said, if I liked to give him back the five sovereigns,
he would pay for it. That's what I call fraternal."
He then plunged into his Greek ; and I, while I listened, felt
suddenly that I need not flatter myself that this help given was
to be, or ever had been, of any use. Some other career would
now be fixed on for the Oubit. So I thought I would not give
him a lesson after that day. And I listened to every passing
foot on the stair, longing to waylay Mr. Brandon if he should
come down, and get him, at least, to tell me whether Tom would
soon come and fetch me away ; hurt because he had disliked my
going to his school, and suddenly so ashamed and so covered
with, and hampered with, a new humility at finding myself left
to the kindness of this family, that it seemed to be almost
taking a liberty to occupy their rooms and sit upon their chairs
and sofas.
I did hear St. George's foot as he passed the door ; but I had
not courage to stop him. He had made it obvious to me that
he did not want to talk to me. I had believed, during his
absence, that he had partly retreated to get away from me ; and
now he had not even got my uncle to write to me. I thought
he should have done that, as I was left with his people.
I presently saw him, through the window, get over a stile
and cross the fields in the direction of his school. There was
nothing to be done nothing whatever; but I felt as if the
sweet sunshine of that morning would not warm me. And
when Valentine, having finished his Greek, went down to the
camera, I went upstairs, and spread some drawing materials
before me.
He shouted up to me several times as I sa\ in \taa VvcAsra \
292 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
but I would not come down, and was idly taking the view from
the window, when I heard St* George's voice below. He bad
returned some other way from his school. In a few minutes
his foot was outside the door, and he hastily entered.
" What, Miss Graham ! indoors this lovely May morning f w
" The window is open. I have the air here."
He darted a look at me.
" There is Valentine, moping and mourning because of your
desertion, and the Captain in despair at your not coining to
group the sitters."
" I would have come if they had said they wanted me."
Upon this he passed to the open window, standing with bis
back to me ; and, adjusting a pocket telescope which he bad
taken from the table,
" I am afraid," he began, and stopped to alter the focus,
" I am afraid you have been uncomfortable and anxious about
Tom. I should have mentioned him before, but I have not been
alone with you."
" I only wish to know what you think."
" Oh, I feel quite comfortable ; he is safe enough for the next
five or six months ; and the Captain will not easily be persuaded
to put into Southampton again ! "
You ought not to have taken him there, was my thought, but
I only said, " Thank you."
Still he stood with the telescope to his eye, and his face to
the window.
" I did not know," he said, " till I saw you again yesterday,
that you had any suspicion to cause discomfort concerning him,
and cast a shadow over your happiness. Mrs. Brand was sure
you had not."
" Oh, then he ashed her" I thought to myself.
He turned round as he said these words, and observing that
his own shadow fell over me, and was dark on my drawing-paper,
he smiled, and, moving aside, continued : " But now I hcpe the
shadow cast by Tom will withdraw as completely as mine has
done, and that you will go down and amuse yourself with the
camera."
I rose mechanically to go down, as he seemed to expect. " As
completely as mine has done," was my thought as I put away
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 293
my drawing materials ; " I wonder when your shadow will with-
draw, if ever."
The very next morning the expected letter arrived. It lay
on my breakfast plate, and was not from Tom, but from my
uncle : when I saw that, I had not courage to open it, but kept
it till after breakfast, and then ran up to my room, locked the
door, took it out, and began to read. The first sentence made
me quite easy for the present about Tom.
" Dear Dorothea," it began, " Tom and I have been laying
out some plans together for cruising off the coast of Iceland this
summer." Perfectly right, I thought perfectly prudent of my
uncle a very good thing to do; but I went on to the next
sentence, and found that it was a kind of apology to me. He
wanted Mrs. Brand could not very well get on without her
was sorry on my account, as I should probably have wished to
retain her ; but I could get another maid. I should not want
money. Of course I could see, being a girl of sense, that a five
months' cruise away from England, and up so far north, was out
of the question for me, but I should have my own way in choos-
ing my home meanwhile. I might live with Miss Tott if I
liked, for Tom had written to her, and she had no objection to
have me. If I did not like, I was free to decline, for it had
been left open.
I need not fret, and should not, he supposed, at what was
inevitable ; he could not give up Tom, and he could not have us
both. TTifl choice was therefore made, but I could settle in any
place I liked, provided it was not Southampton ; and then, when
they wished to have me, or I wished to come on board, I could
do so ; in fact, I could always spend a few weeks on board when
it suited me. This being settled, and I no doubt agreeing with
him as to its desirability (in fact, if ever there was a girl of sense
I was that girl), he should proceed to business, and tell me that
he had paid into a certain bank, which he named, the sum of
;i8o, which was to last me a year, and I was to draw.it
quarterly.
He intended always to allow me that sum, and should settle
it on me, so as to make me independent of others, and even of
himself. He did not say that he should leave ma m3^Bta^i&sc&
294 0FF THK SKELLIGS.
in his will, and he did not say that he should not ; all he wished
was that I should not reckon on such a thing. If I married, no
doubt I should do myself justice and marry prudently, and I wis
by all means to let him know beforehand ; in the meantime, I
must be careful not to get into debt. He had heard from my
father, who seemed to be very unsettled, and talked of going to
California to look about him. Tom was well, and sent his love,
" And, my dear Dorothea," it concluded, "I am yours sin-
cerely, " G. Rollbt. w
My impression is, that I read that letter over at least twenty
times. I did not shed a tear over it ; there was little in it to
touch my feelings, only to agitate, disappoint, and shock ma
I had lost my home, and was not to see my best friend for several
months ; but he was still good to me, and had provided for my
comfort.
Again and again I read it ; first I was foolish enough to think
I could persuade him to change his mind, but as I reflected, and
still continued my reading, I perceived the hopeless nature of
such an attempt. To write a letter was a great undertaking foi
him, and he had not done all this without consideration, and as
he thought necessity.
I might, if I chose, or if I could, believe that these changes
would make but little practical difference to me, for was I not
told that I could express my wish to come on board, or that
they could write for me? But would they? I remembered
Ipswich, and my heart sank, but still I shed no tears. Indeed,
this was no new thing I was quite used to it ; but there was
this difference, that I might now be my own mistress, live where
I pleased, and occupy myself as I chose. But my uncle ! he had
been good to me, kind to me, even fond of me. I thought of
that, and that I had lost him, and tears began to choke me. But
I did not cry long : the restraint and discipline of so many years
at school had at least the effect of enabling me to command
myself. I sobbed a little while with passionate regret and yearn-
ing, and then dried my eyes, feeling that now it behooved me
to act, and to do it immediately.
What, then, did I mean to do ? I was entirely free to do as
I chose. I alone was responsible. Reason and conscience told
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 295
me that I ought to go that I must not take undue advantage of
the hospitality which had been so kindly extended to me. But
then I longed to remain : my floating home was a home no more ;
everything else that I cared for was under the roof which now
sheltered me ; and I longed to remain in it a little longer just
a little while and not banish myself from it perhaps for ever.
Thinking of this, tears came again ; but I was too much
astonished, excited, and bewildered for weeping to last long.
Thoughts began to crowd upon me : the perplexity of too much
liberty made wild work with my pulses ; that standing alone,
and yet being obliged, as it were, to set off and walk instantly
in some direction or other, tore my mind with conflicting
emotions. I was like a person deserted on a wide common of
green grass, with no paths and no object in sight, and yet the
certainty that it must be traversed ere any place of shelter could
be found.
Kneeling down, I tried to pray, but my mind was confused,
and became more so every moment ; but I was alive to what
passed, for I heard the lunch-bell ring, and thinking that it
would be easier for me to meet the family in the garden than at
table, I put on my bonnet, took my parasol, and ran down the
back staircase, and through the courtyard, into the shrubbery,
from whence I emerged, and approached the group as quietly as
I could.
Something in the manner of more than one made me think
that the contents of my letter were known. They did not cease
to talk, and took no direct notice of me, but allowed me to
mingle with them till, gradually and quite naturally, I became
involved in the discussion which was going on, and we all walked
into luncheon together. But here my desired self-possession gave
way. Liz said, in a sympathising tone, " Come, and sit by me,
dear."
" No, I say that's a shame ! " exclaimed Valentine ; " this is
her place. Sit by me, D. dear."
Whereupon I found myself, before I knew what I was about,
hurrying away from the table, sobbing and covering my face
with my hands. I heard Giles say, " You stupid fellow ! " to
Valentine ; I heard Mrs. Henfrey scold somebody else ; and in
a minute or two, without knowing exactly "hew 1 ^o\* ^tasssfc^
296 OFF THE SKBLLIGS.
found myself standing in the smoking-room, shivering, and
declaring that I was determined not to faint I could help it, I
was sure, and I would.
" Never mind if you do, dear," began Valentine ; " we shall
not think it at all silly of you."
" Be quiet ! " whispered Mr. Brandon : " that's not the styh
of thing to say ! Now, Miss Graham, sit by the window. Here
is water. Hold it to her lips, Val. You wish to command
yourself, of course."
" Of course ! " I repeated.
" And you are better already. See, here is your maid ! "
I now first observed that I was entirely abandoned by the
female part of the family, and this did a great deal to restore
me ; far more than Mrs. Brand did, though I was straightway
left for her to do her best with me*
" Ah ! " said Mrs. Brand, when she came in with some jelly,
" what tender-hearted ladies these are, to be sure ! Miss Grant
as near as possible went off into hysterics when you turned faint ;
and Miss Elizabeth, when I asked if she would like to come and
sit with you, was all of a tremble, and said she couldn't on any
account."
I stayed in my room all that day, and performed what I found
the rather difficult task of telling Mrs. Brand the contents of my
uncle's letter.
Mrs. Brand was more philosophical over my troubles than
she usually was over her own. "It was a disappointment,
certainly; but, dear me, people had disappointments in this
world, and must look to have them, ma'am."
At night, when I was going to bed, she remarked that she
supposed I could spare her in a day or two. I said, " Yes ; "
and being by this means brought to some practical thoughts, I
found myself better during the evening. I had exhausted my-
self with crying over my lost home, and now, weary and sick at
heart, I fell sound asleep, and woke in the morning quite well in
health, and able to consider what I should do.
I have often thought that when some trial or disappointment
is inevitable, settled, and not to be stirred by anything that those
can do who have to bear it, one of the chief sources of its power
is removed. It is what ws think Tax$& ^osalbly have been
OFF THE SKKLLIGS. 297
otherwise if we had done otherwise ; what might now be possibly
removed if we only knew how to remove it ; what is doubtful as
to result ; what is complicated with uncertainties and calls for
action on our part, while yet we cannot decide what that action
should be; what calls for discretion and demands vigilance,
which can harass the mind and most effectually destroy its peace.
None of these disadvantages beset my trouble, and the only
circumstance which might have been altered if I had had time
to plead for it, was that I might have been able to take leave of
Tom and my uncle, which I now found they did not wish me
to do, for my uncle had not mentioned to me what port he
should touch at, to take Mrs. Brand on board; and when I
questioned her, I found that she had received her own instruc-
tions, and knew in what direction to proceed, though I knew
nothing. I was aware how much they both dreaded scenes, so
I easily understood the motive for this reserve.
Mrs. Henfrey very kindly came into my room before I went
down next morning. She said they knew that I had now to fix
upon a home, and Mr. Mortimer hoped I would not think of
leaving his house for at least a fortnight. Having now no
wishes to consult but my own, I accepted the invitation, and felt
glad to have that short time in which to settle my plans. It
was something definite, too far pleasanter than the most cordial
proffers of hospitality with no fixed limit ; and, as I went down*
stairs with her, I felt how good they had been to me, and how
glad I was to stay a little longer.
After breakfast, Mrs. Brand showed me my uncle's letter to
her. As soon as I could spare her, she was to repair to Wey-
mouth. The " Curlew " was lying in Portland roads : she was
to take a boat and come out to her. I found that she had
already packed up her boxes, and found, also, that my uncle
did really wish me not to appear with her, so I said she might-
go that very morning.
When it was time for her to start, I gave her a keepsake, and
Kissed her, charging her to write whenever she could. We both
shed a few tears ; and, when she was gone, I felt that now I
was indeed utterly alone, and must begin to consider my plans
in good earnest. .-
I had already written to the Mompessons, ansl ^V\kel\ Vs'oscA.
298 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
that they could not receive me, my thoughts took an entirely
new direction. I knew I could go to Miss Tott, if I chose ; Imt
I did not like the notion, and I did not know, with ^180 a year,
whether I was rich or poor.
I talked to Mrs. Henfrey on the subject ; but I found her hv
formation to the last degree vague and unsatisfactory. I talked
to Liz ; but she evidently knew nothing, for she spoke of keep-
ing a pony and a boy, which I thought must be out of the
question. Lou, of course, was absorbed in other matters.
So I tried Valentine, taking care to choose a time when Giles
was present, for I had formed a tolerably distinct plan, and I
wished to see in what light he would regard it, and whether he
would think it preposterous. I had to wait some days, for Giles
very seldom was present ; at last I found a good time, and begin-
ning to talk with Valentine, he fell into the little trap I had
laid for him.
" What would you do, Giles," asked Valentine, " if you had
;i8o a-year, and were a young lady ?"
" That would depend on whether I cared most for domestic
pleasures, or for amusements, intellectual or otherwise. "
" But supposing domestic pleasures out of the question, as
they are if one lives among perfect strangers, don't you consider
the first thing to decide on would be whether you were rich
or poor ? "
" No, for that would be according to the life chosen. If you
chose to do without a maid, and board with a quiet family in the
country say a clergyman's you might be rich, for you could
easily be boarded on ^"90 a-year, and thus ^90 would remain
for personal expenses."
" And I should be miserable ! Perhaps I should not like the
people; and assuredly I should not have half enough to do.
I want to have lessons, and get a reading ticket for some good
library, and visit the poor, and see pictures, and hear lectures."
" Then you must live in London, and be extremely poor."
" Why so poor ? "
" Because you must have a maid. No young lady can go about
London, and attend libraries and lectures, and visit the poor,
alone."
"I know it would be very \H&a^ofcsto\& to ^sik *hout alone."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 299
" It would not be right ; you could not do it that is to say,
I believe your uncle would not approve."
" Then, what will a maid cost 1 "
" You could not be boarded in a quiet private family, in the
most unfashionable neighbourhood, with your maid, under ;ioo
a-year, at the very least. Then, if your maid's wages were ^25,
that would only leave you 55 a-year for all your personal
expenses, including dress, cabs, charity, travelling expenses,
tickets for the coveted lectures, and money for the desired
lessons books, doctor's bill, if you should have one."
" I think that sounds something like happiness and hard work."
" Indeed 1 I thought it would sound like borrowing and
sorrowing."
" Of course, I am aware that I know very little of life and of
money."
" Very little, indeed," he answered in a tone of pity.
" So, as I have absolutely no one at all to ask advice of,
excepting you, I will tell you what my plan is ; and if you are
sure it cannot be carried out if you know it cannot why, then,
perhaps I had better reconsider it."
" I am all attention."
"Then, there are three things that I wish to learn wood-
engraving, dressmaking, and cooking."
Mr. Brandon's face expressed the utmost astonishment ; but
he said not a word
" You have decided that I am to be very poor. In case I had
been rich, I should have acted differently ; but, if I proved to be
poor, my plan was to teach, in order to earn money to learn. I
must find a family of little boys, to whom I can teach Latin and
Greek, for an hour or two every day. My maid will walk with
me to the house "
" Extraordinary ! " interrupted Valentine.
" With the money I earn so, I can learn wood-engraving and
dressmaking. When I know enough of wood - engraving to
practise it, and earn money by it also, I shall spend that in learn-
ing to cook "
" Amazing ! " said Valentine, changing his word.
" I shall then begin to lead a happy life ; I shall have as
much to do as I can do; and, being by that time a Yft^&s&^i^
300 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
wood-cutting, I shall have a class of respectable girls, to whom
I shall teach the art, and so make them independent "
" Astounding ! " cried Valentine, changing his word again,
Mr. Brandon stood stock-still, and said nothing.
" My maid will make my dress ; for my reading, I shall go to
the British Museum. Perhaps, in order to save money for con-
certs and lectures, I shall translate some French books, and I
may, perhaps, write books for children. By that time I shall
leave off taking lessons in wood-cutting altogether, and, still
teaching my little boys, I shall have plenty of money to spend
in laying in a stock of eatables ; and I shall go to some indus-
trial school, and offer to be honorary cook there, and teach the
girls to make all sorts of nice stews and puddings, and soups and
pies. I shall provide the materials ; and, at first, I shall give
away the dishes. I shall let the girls carry them home to their
mothers; then the mothers and other poor women will come
to learn. I shall charge a penny a lesson, and hire a kitchen, to
concoct and cook the things in ; and I shall give prizes of pies
to those who learn fastest."
" Frantic ! " exclaimed Valentine.
I had observed, for some moments past, that Mr. Brandon
had difficulty in restraining a smile, which first showed itself in
the corners of his mouth, and when he chased it thence, peeped
out at his eyes. He, however, did not say anything disrespectful
concerning my plans; but, when I ceased to speak, remarked
that he was afraid he hoped he might be mistaken but he
was afraid I was too sanguine.
" Then, if I am, and if I do no good, and derive no pleasure
from all these things, only think what a desirable person I shall
be for papa ; if, when he grows older, he should send for me to
go out to California."
" Ca-li-for-nia ! " said Valentine, with unfeigned contempt
" Yes, I am almost sure it will end in my going out to Cali-
fornia."
" And I am quite sure, D. dear," replied Valentine, with extreme
suavity, " that it will not end in your going out to California."
" Indeed ! "
" For I, being your most intimate friend, you would naturally
write to me first, and say, * My \alued compatriot, if I go out to
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 30 1
this hole of California, and dislike it, will yon come and fetch
me home again I' I should reply, 'No I won't.' Conse-
quently "
" Consequently, she would get some other swain to do her
that service ! " interrupted Mr. Brandon.
"Consequently," I added, "I should go, determined to be
pleased, and never to come home any more. 1 '
Consequently ! " burst in Valentine, after this double inter-
ruption, " she would think better of it, and remain at home ; if
she didn't " here he paused, and shook his head in a menacing
fashion.
"Be calm, my dear boy," said Giles, bantering him, "this
peril seems imminent, but is not to be warded off by threats or
warnings. The SmUax simtdata is not a plant, as I have heard,
that flourishes in those diggings all ladies are 'remarkably
eligible ' there."
Seeing me look surprised, he added, " Those wallflowers, you
perceive, grow in my garden now. I think it just as well you
should know that anything you say to Valentine is sure to be in
my possession the very next morning, by seven o'clock at the
latest."
CHAPTER XXV.
" In brief, since I do purpose to marry I will think nothing to any purpose that the
world can say against it." Much Ado about Nothing.
In a week I was to leave the hospitable house where I had been
entertained so long. In a week I was to begin life for myself,
and as yet I had arranged nothing but this, that I was to go to
Miss Tott for a fortnight, and stay longer if I chose. Valentine,
always affectionate, always pleased to be with me, became more
so as the time went on ; there was a kind of brother-and-sister
intimacy between us, which was partly the result of our being
so much thrown together, and partly the result of his natural
openness of temper and love of companionship.
" I say," he observed, as on the first day oi tin&m*5L\^^tfc
302 OFF THE SKKLLIGS.
sitting together, mounting our photographs, "if you want a maid
why don't you talk to Ann Molton : the workwoman, you know,
who comes and makes things for Liz and Lou, and who mended
your tarlatan dress when we tore it in the garden f "
" What makes you think she would suit ? "
" Oh, Giles put it into my head. If she were your maid, as
he remarked to me, you could learn dressmaking of her for
nothing ; and as you like Miss Dorinda so much, you would like
Ann, for she is just like her."
" But would she like me and the sort of life she would lead
with me ? "
" You can ask her if you like ; she is here now. I helieve
she would like, for she wants to leave this neighbourhood."
I went straight upstairs to speak to this woman, the induce-
ment to try and secure her being that she was like Miss Dorinda
like her, as I hoped, in her chief characteristic, her contented
piety and deep, and yet calm, reverence of heart.
She was seated at work in a spare bed-room, and I came in
and sat down, telling her to give me a seam to run : as I worked
I began to talk to her, and gradually unfolded my plan my
self-sufficient, benevolent, ignorant plan. She listened at first
with surprise, then with some excitement of manner ; her plain,
pale features grew intelligent, her great thin awkward figure
stooped towards me attentively. I told her a little of my
history, and her hands began to tremble over her needle and
thread.
Happening to pause for a moment, I was surprised to find that,
without looking at me, she wished in her turn to be the speaker ;
she first spoke of her deficiencies. She was not very quick
with her dressmaking she did not always manage to make such
good fits as she could wish but her desire was to work, " Not
with eye service, as pleasing men, but as to the Lord." I saw
she had perceived my drift, and let her go on. She wished to
leave the neigbourhood, for she could hardly earn enough with
her needle to keep her ; she did not wish to be a nurse, for she
had never been used to children ; she had often prayed to the
Lord to let her be of some use, for she did not feel that it was
much use to be just earning bread enough for one's own mouth.
She thought if she could be maid to a lady such a one as
OFF THE SKELLIGS, 303
gave up her time to good works she might be a help to her in
many ways. Miss Braithwaite had advised her to try for such
a situation ; but of all places in the world she should like to go
to London, there was such a wilderness of folks there, and so
few to do anything for them. I saw that the plan had com-
mended itself to her, and that she would follow my fortunes if
I would let her. I asked what wages she would expect, and she
said
" Oh, ma'am, I will take whatever you can afford."
I did not in the least expect to fail, therefore I never warned
her that she might find the life she was choosing very different
from that my excited fancy had pictured, on the contrary,
warming with her excitement and kindling with her enthusiasm,
I went from one scheme to another, till when I at last said, " Do
you think you should like such a life?" she replied, "Yes,
ma'am ; I have always thought it would be a blessed thing to
have anything to do for Him."
But quiet as her voice was, almost blissful in its serene hope-
fulness, I saw at once that the love which had prompted those
words was something I had never attained to ; the gratitude was
far more real, the motives were more pure.
As for me, the craving desire for action had been one reason
why I had made these benevolent plans. I wanted this kind-
ness bestowed, to stand me, if it would, in the stead of kindness
no longer received ; I wanted that others should depend on me,
and so appease my heart for the loss of my brother and my
home ; I wanted soon to be able to forget this very visit ; I had
certainly not made any friend by it, and I began to perceive
very plainly that I had lost one. What a happy thing it was
for me that I secured Ann Molton ! what would have become of
me and my plans but for her good sense and good principles !
When I had secured her services, I went down again, but
found no one in the drawing-room, excepting Mr. Mortimer, and
he, though polite, was generally so distant to me now, that I
was glad to withdraw and go down into the garden, where I
found the family.
Giles and Valentine were busy converting an arbour into a
dark chamber, by means of oil-cloth and boards, but when the
latter saw me, he left his brother to finish the work and x&ada
304 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
. _ , #
off to my retreat, which was a low seat under the shadow oi
some laurels. *
Giles with his coat off continued to hammer away at the
chamber ; Valentine took a knife and began to cut a little frame
for one of the photographs.
" I say, D.," he observed quietly, and as if there was nothing
particular in the remark ; " I say, D., what fun it would be if
you and I were engaged ! "
" I wish you would not talk such nonsense ; I do not approve
of it, and it does not amuse me at all"
" I did not mean it should. I meant it quite seriously. You
are nearly twenty, I am now in my twentieth year ; why shouldn't
we be engaged if we please f "
" If we please, certainly, but one of us does not please."
" You don't know how you should like it till you try ! Sup-
pose now we agree to be engaged for six months, and see how we
like it ? You won't ? Well, say a week then ? "
" No ; I would not for an hour."
" Why not * "
" Because I do not particularly care for you ; because you do
not particularly care for me ; and because I have no particular
wish to make Prentice miserable ! "
" Prentice," he burst out, "has nothing to do with this ! it's
entirely a case of spontaneous combustion on my part. He did
nothing to fan the flame. I shall be so horridly dull when you
are gone, I shall not know what to do. Come, I will make you
another proposition ; I will be engaged to you, but you shall be
free."
" That is impossible ! An engagement must be a mutual
thing."
" It need not be that I see. Well, D., as you are so obliging
as to permit it indeed I do not see how you can help it I
hereby record my intention, and my circumstances. I shall have
a thousand pounds when Giles has given it to me, and shortly
after I am of age, if he will but let me go to Cambridge, I shall
have a Bachelor's degree. Such are my prospects ; I lay them
at your feet ; I am an engaged man."
" What frantic nonsense ! "
"And you are quite free. Now, don't look so furious don't,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 305
or Gfles will see it ! I shall hang f our-and-twenty of the best of
the portraits of you round my room, and I shall wear one in each
waistcoat pocket. I shall kiss your Greek lexicon every day, and
heave up two sighs over the happy past."
It was the day before I was to go to London. Some of my
boxes were packed, and Ann Molton was sitting in my room
occupied with needlework. Valentine and I were about to read
our Greek together, when Mr. Mortimer came into the drawing-
room, and saying that he hoped I would excuse his interrupting
us, began to unfold to Valentine a plan by which I perceived
that he would be absent for that day and night, and would not
return till an hour or so before the time of my departure. Mr.
Mortimer had a letter in his hand. I thought it could just as
easily have gone by post, but he seemed determined that it should
go to his friend across the country by hand, and that hand
Valentine's.
Valentine looked a little sulky and also a little sheepish. A
suspicion certainly did cross my mind to the effect that this was
done because Mr. Mortimer thought his son took rather too much
interest in me, and wished to detach him from my side ; but if
he did think this it was rather too late to act, when I was so near
the time of departure.
Valentine went his way. I was left with Mrs. Henfrey till
luncheon time, and after that meal, as Lou and Captain Walker
went out for a drive, and visitors arrived who had to be enter-
tained, I found myself alone, and put on my bonnet, resolving
to go and take leave of Miss Braithwaite.
I had never been there a]one before, but the way was pleasant,
there being nothing between the grounds of the two houses but
some fields. Miss Dorinda Braithwaite had exercised more influ-
ence over me than I was aware of at the time, and I wanted to
consult her about some of my plans. She was very kind that day,
and as I sat by her she drew me on to talk to her. Her words at
first were a comment on that text, "If ye know those things,
happy are ye if ye do them." But that subject can be discussed
by many people, and does not involve much that is confidential
or difficult to unfold. Another succeeded ; and to my own
surprise I found myself telling her how I had sat on Mr. Mom-
pesson's knee in the roof of the MinsteT, and \ife \\sA\d&Tfc&
306 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
for the first time the wonderful story of the world's redenip*
tion.
I sat with Miss Braithwaite some time, and came away
much the better for her advice and cheerful conversation. I
walked briskly till I came to the little wood which skirted Mr.
Mortimer's grounds, and there sat down to enjoy its beauty and
to think.'
I had come to the same place where we had sat and talked
before when the trees were bare ; they were covered with leaves
now, and the ground was carpeted with woodruffe.
I leaned my cheek upon my hand, many thoughts passed
through my mind, my eyes were fixed on the little tinkling,
dancing brook that flowed past my feet, and I remember indulg-
ing a vague wonder as to where it was going, and where I was
going. London was the name of the place where I was going.
I began to feel that I knew little else respecting it, and scarcely
anything of the life that I should lead there.
I looked up on hearing a slight noise, and saw Mr. Brandon
approaching me ; but I did not move, and as he stepped over the
brook, he said, " I supposed I should find you here."
He sat down and remained some moments perfectly silent ; at
last he said, in a tone almost as dreamy as my own thoughts,
u What have you been thinking of this afternoon, as you sat here
all alone ? "
I answered, " The wood is full of spirits ; you said it would
be some day. My thoughts were about them"
He was again silent. The wood-doves were cooing, and the
flickering sunshine played on the ground ; but I was in no
humour to speak first. I had nothing to say. "When he did
speak, it was in a perfectly different tone, cheerful and matter-
of-fact.
" I believe you have chosen a very busy life for yourself ; con-
sequently if you have any vague fears that time may change into
certainties "
Absolute silence again. He made no attempt whatever to
conclude his sentence, and did not look at me, but beyond,
upon the slope covered with blue flowers.
I also looked straight before me, and began to feel a strange
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 30 f
agitation ; his haying come to find me was unusual, and I won-
dered what he had to say.
Still propping my chin on my hand, I listened to the cooing
of the doves, and felt the sweet air and sunshine.
His last words were, "I dare say you think it singular
singular that I should come out here to disturb your reverie. I
have not done so willingly; nothing hut a desire to prevent
future mistakes, and perhaps future troubles, could have induced
me to take upon myself this task."
As he stopped I involuntarily said, "What task, Mr. Brandon V
" I myself," he went on, heedless of my interruption, " have
suffered much from a trouble which which I do not say will
ever be yours. I do not say that you are laying the foundations
for it deep and strong ; I do not even say that there is any such
tenacity in your memory or strength in your heart as may be
likely to make such a trouble long and burdensome ; but "
What could he mean ? He spoke with deliberate steadiness,
like a man who has made up his mind to a certain task, but does
not like it ; and here he paused, as if expecting me to reply, but
I had nothing to say. All sorts of vague fears floated through
my mind as to what might be his meaning, but I did not utter
one of them ; and when the silence grew oppressive, I broke it by
making some remark about the beauty of the wood.
If he heard, he took no notice ; his face, though naturally
without any ruddy hues, was capable of a sudden flush for a
moment. I saw this dawn and wane again as he went on in an
embarrassed manner " But when I reflect that your acquaint-
ance with me has been the cause of your coining here, and of
what I perceive to have followed, and when I call to mind how
few friends you have perhaps no advisers and how little you
can know of life or of yourself, I feel that I owe you some duty,
though it is a difficult one for me to perform, for aftei all there
is some risk. It is possible that I may be mistaken, but you
have alluded to my words, that there are spirits in the wood.
Well, if I am going to offend, perhaps to wound you, that allusion
reminds me how best to do what I have to do. It will give me
my share of the pain. I shall not inflict more than I shall endure."
Every time he spoke he began almost cheerfully and quite
steadily, but he faltered as he went on, and end&& mta ^n\J&\\\
308 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
agitation. I could still find no answer, but when he paused wua
curiously conscious of the cooing of the doves, the babbling of
the brook, and the flicker of sunbeams dropping through gaps in
the foliage, and wandering over my gown and my hands.
Whether he was waiting till I should ask him to explain
himself, or only until he could decide what to say, I did not
know, but now a silence followed which was long enough for
a world of thought, and wonder, and perturbation. He had
said that he himself had suffered much, and that he wished to
prevent future mistakes, and the same kind of suffering on my
jmrt. He had hinted before of his love for that lady who had
held his flowers so carelessly. The nature of his past trouble
was therefore evident, but why had he taken it for a text on
which to preach warnings to me 1
Tom had often told me that my manners were too humble,
too gentle and conciliatory. " When you say anything that you
fancy may displease, you always entreat forgiveness with your
eyes," he had once said to me. I had stayed a long time at
Wigfield. I had been in his way. Had I entreated forgiveness
of St. George even if I had, what could he mean by this!
He was approaching some subject vaguely ; his words were am-
biguous. They sharpened my senses, they were even a terror to
me, because he himself was so embarrassed and so out of counte-
nance. Could I believe that he was not satisfied with having
left me, with having scarcely spoken to me since his return f
Was it possible that any man in his senses could think it needful
to give me yet stronger hints than these ? And if he did ?
As a planet struck suddenly by some resistless force, and made
to whirl on with a wilder motion, so that the great clock of her
time would take to beating faster, finding it hard to keep count
while she devoured the awful miles of her oval, I seemed to be
suddenly sent on to rush over a great piece of my life in a mo-
ment, to be thinking faster and seeing deeper, seizing on things
as they wlurled by, and understanding what they meant, and
what they were.
First, I thought, could he mean to warn me about Valentine f
And to that, strange to say, almost at once I answered, " Na w
No, I constantly sparred with Valentine and frequently snubbed
him ; he was fond of me, sociable and easy, but a world of boyish
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 309
impertinence mingled with his compliments; even these were
almost always jokes, and that St. George knew quite welL I
was obliged to dismiss that possibility. Then I thought of all
I most loved that brother who had always been dearer to me
than anything that breathed. He was so still. I felt that if I
could get back to him and the old man who had indulged me,
and loved to see me happy, I would thankfully, though not with-
out a pang, have turned my face from this St. George for ever.
I did not care for him, and love him, then ? Yes, very much ; I
knew in a moment that he stood next to these. Considering
that he had made it hard for me to understand him, and that
his great reserve excluded me from the springs of his higher life,
I think it was strange I did not love him wholly, for these things
kept me often thinking about him, but then I could not now
altogether approve of him, and his conduct in taking Tom
away had cost me my home. Yet, as he was still .silent, I
felt there must be something coming that I should intensely
dislike to hear. If it was a reproof, what could it be about?
Since he had taken Tom from me, I had felt painfully humble.
I belonged to no one; none wanted me. I could not stand
against this, I felt compelled to lower my self-esteem to the
level of other people's estimate, and I would not speak lest I
should draw him on, or help him on. But now supposing he
did mean, if he could, to touch on my feelings towards himself,
what could I do ? I had only that minute found out how dear
he was to me ; could I possibly make up my mind to answer, to
excuse myself, to explain ? Certainly not, I would rather let him
think what he pleased. But in a few minutes I gathered courage,
and better sense came to my aid, and I brought myself to believe
that whatever he wanted to say, it could not possibly concern
my feelings toward himself. What object could he have in
doing so, unless he thought I loved him ? and if he did, surely he
was the last man to commit such an intolerable blunder as to dare
to lecture me about it. He was sensitive more than that, he was
manly, and in the truest sense of the word he was a gentleman.
Thinking on this during the long silence, my heart began to
beat more calmly, and the painful flush on forehead and cheek
subsided.
He had sat by me so absolutely silent and mo\j\ot^aa& *&\s& S
310 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
last I was impelled to turn my head and look at him ; lie also
looked ill at ease, and very much embarrassed, but when he met
my eyes he resumed his steady, his almost cheerful manner, and
as if he had been waiting till I could rouse myself, he said
im mediately
" Have you been to Wigfield ? "
" Yes."
" When that tree was younger that plane-tree which grows
on the opposite side of the slope was ten years younger, the roof
and some of the windows of Wigfield Grange were visible above
its boughs, and almost every day I used to come to this spot to
look at them. Did Miss Dorinda ever mention her sister to youf '
" The sister who died ? Yes."
" The sister who died. I think I see her now, and scorn my-
self and my folly. I was a youth of nineteen, and she, a dark
tall woman, past her early bloom, but splendid in her mature
beauty. She was thirteen years my senior. She was haughty,
decided, and full of womanly dignity. She used often to come
to this slope and sit here reading with her poor crippled sister.
From a child I had been accustomed to read and sing with her.
She was fond of me ; she used to chide me if I did not come.
Sometimes, being but a boy, I was blunt and rude. She said
she must teach me how to behave to her sex. She did teach
me, and when I was little more than nineteen I had fallen in
love with her.
" Anything else as unsuitable could hardly have been found
if I had gone far and wide in search of it. She did not find
out my infatuation. Dorinda did, and implored me to keep
away. She said she knew this passion had not taken deep root,
and begged me not to darken my youth with the shadow of such
a deplorable mistake : those were her words I often thought
of them afterwards."
"Do not go on, Mr. Brandon; why should you? It dis-
tresses you."
" Why should I ? I must I had loved her for love's sake
only. I was so much younger than she that marriage with her
hardly occurred to me. I was contented with my present. To
be with her, and hear her speak, was bliss enough. One day, as
I sat iere dreaming oi her, aha &^rcoas\ia&, &.& I yraa so amazed
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 311
at her beauty and her superb air of careless sovereignty, that I
remained dumb and motionless, gazing at her, till stopping close
to me she looked down into my eyes that fell beneath hers, and
laughed. * You ridiculous boy,' she exclaimed, ' you are actually
blushing ; how dare you ? ' "
I turned my head and stole a glance at his face ; it was
reddened as if the shame of that moment was still rankling in
his heart ; his eyes flashed and he went on
" I stammered out some excuse, in which her beauty bore a
part. * My beauty ! ' she replied. * My beauty, indeed ! Let
me hear no more of this ; the beauty that was born for you is
now probably sobbing and crying over her French verbs, or
daubing her cheeks with bread and treacle in the nursery.'
She laughed again, but painfully, and then she said a great deal
more that was scornful and almost insulting. But that could
not stop me : on the contrary, when she began to shed tears of
vexation and excitement, I was goaded on to make full con-
fession of my love, to plead with her to think favourably of it,
and to confess that I had cherished it for months. ' There/ she
said, with a sigh of impatience, c that is enough, get up ! You
indeed ! Why, I have kissed you dozens of times when you
were a chubby little child. I had rejected the only man I ever
cared for before you were seven years old. You ! Go away,
and learn to forget your folly.' That was during the long
vacation. I did go away, and when I returned to Trinity I
studied hard, but I did not forget her ; when I had taken my
degree I travelled, but still I did not forget her.
" When I was in my twenty-fourth year, coming home after
a tour, I was told that she was ill. My secret had been well
kept by the two sisters, and by myself at their desire. My first
glance at her showed a change quite indescribable, but quite
decisive. They moved her to Dawlish, and forgetting her scorn
now, and only desiring to be soothed by the attentive tenderness
of a love like mine, she asked me to follow her there, and I
did."
" Stop, Mr. Brandon ! why say any more ? "
* There is not much more to say. She had been a very care-
loss, indifferent person very thoughtless for time, very reckless
as regarded eternity but during those mis&n3cft& fo^ sxA^^j&s^
312 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
miserable to her, for life was to be taken leave of, and to me
because she was so dear to me, Dorinda was like a good angel
to us both. She told us the old story which we both knew so
well, but which we had not comprehended nor received; she
unfolded to me the compensation of the Divine love, and calmed
her with the tidings of peace and immortality. "
" Don't tell me any more 1 don't tell me any more ! "
" Why not ? "
I did not know, but his voice, so full of pathos and broken
with short quick sighs, went straight to my heart. I had never
felt how dear he was to me, so plainly as I felt it then; and for
the moment I thought that to have been the object of such a
love on his part, and to have known it, I would willingly have
laid down my head and died like that beautiful lady.
He went on and told me of her death, and how she had kissed
him before she died, and thanked him for all his kindness to
her ; and then there was a silence, during which I trembled and
wept, yet not without a certain sense of relief that the recital
which had troubled him and me so much was over. But why
had it been told to me ? Why had he been so resolutely bent
on my knowing all about this his first love? This was ob-
viously a prelude to something else, and yet that something was
to offend me.
Yes, and it did offend me. It came after another pause.
" And all this is past. I was determined to tell it yon ; I
have forced myself to do it, in order that I might declare thai
it has passed away. I look back and acknowledge to myself
that the rending away of that hope was far better for my happi-
ness even here, than its fulfilment could have been. I thank
my God, notwithstanding, that I went through that affliction ;
it has enabled me to sympathise with trouble ; it has made me
stronger to endure what may yet be in store for me, and
braver to take all comfort that may be left.
" To waste his best affection on the dead, and by perverse and
cherished constancy to carry on a first mistake, to shut his heart
against the blessings of a wife and a home, was not meant to be
the lot of man. It is not the doom of man, if he will rise and
do battle with it ; no, nor the doom of woman either."
Silence once more silenca \n m^\i^\\^\^O^^QKi&&red at
OFF THE SKELLIG9. 313
him, and could not repeat to itself, but could only feel the chill
of those wards, "nor woman either."
The old alarm came back again stronger and more distinct
than ever ; now I saw, because, as I supposed, I was forced to see
it, that he had told me this story in order not only that I might
apply it to myself, but that I might understand that I had to
overlive my regard, because it was not reciprocal. But I was
determined to make no answer; there was still, I thought, a
chance that I might be mistaken. I should like to have risen
and gone away then, but my limbs trembled, and more than that
I was arrested by a fresh surprise.
" Oh," he exclaimed, bringing his hand down heavily on a tree-
stump beside him " Oh, I never felt so like a sneak in my life ; "
and then almost directly he added, with the greatest gentleness
" If one person can get over such an attachment, another can."
I answered " yes." He had the mastery so completely then,
that I could no longer, even in my mind, dispute his conviction ;
but with the desperation of wounded self-respect I clung to
the hope that he would spare a woman's reserve from anything
further; but no he actually went on to say, "It would be
affectation to pretend that I do not read your feelings ; you can
hardly expect that I should not read what is so plain I, at
least, whoever else is blind-"
His voice became softer and more agitated, and as for me, my
sensations were indescribable.
"It was a most unexpected revelation to me, I do most
solemnly assure you, or I would not have let it go so far ; but I
do not want to excuse myself. I will think only of you : what-
ever you may think of me, and whatever I may think of myself
at this moment, I am sure that I am right to speak, and tell
you that your love is not returned. I am going away so soon
going to leave this country that I am certain it is best to
speak."
Shame choked me, but even at that pass I am sure I was as
much shocked for him as for myself. Oh, why had I not found
strength and courage to stop him % He was degrading and tear-
ing himself down from the high place he had held in my fancy
in my heart ; was not this to be a consummate, to be an odious,
to be an intolerable prigl No, I supposed. \\ co\&&. t^^q^
314 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
because such a pang of pity and wounded affection made my
heart bleed, that though the picture I had drawn of him in my
thoughts was quite torn to pieces, I did not despise him even
then.
Telling me to my face that I loved him, and must try to over-
come my love ! Yes, I did think so. Every atom of womanly
pride that I had in me was roused to revolt against him, but my
heart struck against my side. The words were burning in me
that longed to demand silence of him, but my tongue had so
absolutely lost the art of utterance, that I sat beside him yearn-
ing to stop him, and almost frantic because I could not, while
he went on to tell me that if love had been given and only affec-
tionate friendship returned, the sooner this was known the better.
He made a movement then as if he would have taken my hand,
but this was more than I could bear, and I recovered strength to
push his away, and turn aside my head. He did not appear to
resent this, but he actually went on to say
" I ought to have said 'all this before. I take shame to my-
self ; but I did not know how great was the mischief that had
been done. I did not suppose there was any danger in those
trifling attentions wliich now which I now see to have been so
wrong."
His regretful avowal of the mischief that he believed he had
so unconsciously done done with no effort worth mentioning
called from me some expression of the torture to which he was
subjecting me ; and all of a sudden he appeared to become aware
of, and to be shocked at, the effect he was producing ; and, taking
me up in his arms, as carefully and apparently with as little effort
as if I had been a child, he carried me down the slope to the
little stream, and dipping his handkerchief in the water, wrung
it out and damped my forehead with it ; then took up my hands
and bathed them one after the other, by dipping his own into
the water, and drawing mine through them.
A choking sensation, that could find neither words nor tears,
almost overpowered me.
" Are you better now ? " he asked.
My soul naturally enough revolted against his sympathy.
His face was very near mine, leaning over me with anxious soli-
citude ; and I recovered atresia, to ^ut out my hand, and with
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 315
-
What little vigour I had to push it away. In doing so, the
restraint that like a girdle seemed to tie down my heart gave
way, and my pent-up feelings relieved themselves by a flow of
passionate tears.
There was no need to consider what he might think or feel.
He had treated me with no real mercy, with no respect ; and if
he had been ever so wrong in all his surmises, I felt that I should
hardly have cared to tell him so.
I heard him mutter to himself that he was a fool, that he
hated himself, that he had done ten times more harm than good.
I assented to it all in my inmost heart ; but I felt that the smart
even of that moment was all the sharper because I was so
ashamed of his wonderful blindness his unmanly blindness
to what was due either to himself or to me.
But the more passionate the tears, and the keener the pang
that causes them, the sooner they are dashed away. I soon
recovered myself sufficiently to see that my tears had thoroughly
frightened and subdued him. His forehead was crimsoned with
self-reproach and embarrassment, and when I looked at him he
could not meet my eyes, but asked, with evident anxiety, whether
I felt able to walk, and whether I would take his arm.
I said no ; but that, if he would go on, I would shortly return
alone.
Upon this he answered, with a sort of restless impatience, that
he could not do that; I was not well enough to be left, and
surely I did not mean to allow him no time to explain himself.
He wished to assure me that he was aware he might possibly have
been mistaken ; and he hoped I would forgive him.
" I will forgive you," I managed to say, " if you will only be
silent. I will not I cannot endure another word."
" You treat me," he replied, regardless of the condition, " as* if
I had presumed to accuse you of some great folly, or even of some
grave fault."
" If you had," I replied, " no talking now could ever set it
right. Do you think I am going to argue with you about this ?
No ; you must think what you please ; but, also, I shall think
what I please."
"But," he still persisted, "I must be heard I will be
heard."
316 OFF THE SKELLIG8.
" Mr. Brandon, I will not hear another word of that, or of
anything concerning it."
I was able to rise then, and begin to hurry away from him
towards the house ; but he easily kept beside me. And pre-
sently he said
" If I am not to talk of that, let me say something different"
As I made no objection, he added
" I may have no other opportunity for years. I want you to
try, in spite of your present feelings, whether you cannot look
upon me as your friend, and to believe that if you should ever
want a friend, and I had no other desire to prove myself one,
than that I might in some sort atone for the pain I have given
you to-day, it would be sufficient to make me urgently long for
the opportunity or the chance of doing so. Will you give me
such a chance ? Do you hear me 1 "
" Yes."
" Will you promise to think of me as your friend, and apply
to me if I can be of use to you 9 Indeed, I have more power,
far more power, than you suppose."
Yes ; I knew he had Tom in his power ; I knew of the struggle,
and his victory ; but apply to him ! !
He looked at me for an answer, but I could not promise, for
I knew that there were few emergencies under which it would
not be more bitter to sue to him than to endure to the utmost.
" You do not know," he said, deeply hurt, " the pain you are
inflicting."
" I know you to be a very benevolent person," I answered ;
" I am quite aware that you like to be of service to people."
He made some gesture of momentary passion and irritation,
but he struggled with it, smoothed his brow and said : " There-
fore you will promise ? "
" I promise not to forget what you have said," I replied.
" And nothing more ? " he exclaimed.
I could not reply, and after a long pause, he said, in the tone
of one who felt himself injured
" Well, then, nothing is left me but to hope that you may not
want a friend."
Not another word passed between us ; we walked on to the
house and parted at the &oot.
OCT THE SKELLIGS. 317
I went to my room, walked to the looking-glass, and found
that my face was disfigured with, crying ; it wanted two hours
to dinner-time, so as I knew that I was not likely to be inquired
for, I drew the curtains and lay down on the couch, bent upon
hiding my emotion and letting the traces of it have time to dis-
appear. I could not endure the thought of being questioned as
to my paleness ; more than ever I wished to keep a cheerful face
that evening.
It surprises me now to think how womanly pride triumphed
over all other feelings ; for the sake of recovering my self-com-
mand, I contrived to smother the cruel pain that came whenever
I thought of Mr. Brandon's behaviour to me, and I drove away
all thoughts of self-pity with the powerful motive of keeping
myself from further tears.
Such being the case, it was not wonderful that I could walk
down to dinner with no trace of my passion of tears, beyond a
little flush, which made Mrs. Henfrey say that I had tanned
myself by sitting in the sun.
" Where's Brandon ? " asked Captain Walker.
" Why, he's gone somewhere on business," she replied in her
quiet, slow tone ; "set off in such a hurry. But that's always
his way ; he can do twice as much in the time as other people."
"That's an excuse," I thought to myself, "to account for
absenting himself the last evening;" but I was very glad of
his absence, and more glad still when, after dinner, Mr. Tikey
appeared, and with him the celebrated Prentice. With their aid
we passed the evening very well; Mr. Tikey talked to Mr.
Mortimer ; Prentice made himself ridiculous in attempts to flirt
with Liz ; and Mrs. Henfrey spent the time in giving me a vast
deal of good advice of a vague, unpractical sort, which I listened
to at intervals.
The two brothers did not return that night Neither had
returned the next morning when I came down to breakfast, and
I earnestly hoped they would not be in time to meet me, for I
felt that, if they were together, I would far rather see neither
than be obliged to see both.
Rather earlier than there was any need for, the carriage came
to the door, and I took leave of Mr. Mortimer, Lou, and her
Captain, and drove to the station with Mrs. Hsairc^ raA\}a^^aA
31 8 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
-
Ann Molton. Alas ! I had no sooner stepped on to the platform
than I saw Valentine and Mr. Brandon meeting us from the
other side of the line.
Valentine came up to me with flushed cheeks and a sort of
tender excitement in his eyes, which was quite a new expression
for him. " I declare," he said, " I thought I should have been
too late ; " and as he stood looking at me, I said to him, smiling,
" Well, you seem very glad to see me on the point of departure,
you recreant knight ! "
He made no answer, hut held out his hand ; and when I took
it, he led mo to one of the carriages. " This is going to London,"
he said ; " get into it, D. dear ! " then he added with boyish
frankness, " I really had no idea at all how fond I was of yon
till I was parted from you. I say, D., do get in ; if you don't,
St George will be coming to join us, perhaps."
A strong reason, indeed, to induce me to enter it ; and we had
no sooner sat down than he began to tell me how afraid he had
been that he should not be in time to see me. He had said that
already, and he next began to describe the dinner-party he had
been at the night before, at his father's old friend ; how Giles
had come in, and they had both gone together to sleep at John
Mortimer's ; and Giles, in spite of his impatience, had stayed on,
arguing that morning with John Mortimer, till he (Valentine)
was sure they should miss the train. Then he paused, and I,
with my mind full of other things, looked up at him, whereupon
the boyish manner gave way to something more earnest, the
cracked voice became rather tremulous, and the handsome young
face flushed a beautiful red.
" D. dear," he said, " I've often asked you to be engaged to
me, haven't I now % "
" Yes, of course, you have."
" Quite seriously % "
" I don't know about that," I answered, and laughed.
" Well, perhaps, it was partly for fun at first ; but it is not
now, D. dear. I do assure you I should wish it if such a fellow
as Prentice had never been born. So now I ask you, once for
all, really and truly, and not in joke ; and you won't refuse, will
you ? because that would be so so ridiculous."
" So what ? " I exclaimed.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 3T9
" Oh, bother," he replied, " I don't know how to do this sort
of thing at all (hang Prentice ! how did he manage it ?) I love
you, though, just as much as if I did."
" I will not be engaged to you," I replied ; " really and truly,
and not in joke, I will not ; but I should like that we should be
very great friends, for I care for you, and I even love you, almost
as if you were a relation of mine."
" I suppose you won't," he observed, " because you think I
shall soon forget you. I shan't, though, I can tell you."
" No, don't ; I should be sorry if you did. I shall never forget
you, Valentine never ; and you cannot think how few people
I have in the world to care for now."
" But we shall correspond then ? "
" Oh yes, write often ; and so will I."
" Very well ; but, D. dear, there really is no mistake about
your* deciding you won't be engaged ? "
" Certainly not ; don't I always tell you I won't ? "
" You know that J am engaged to you"
" I know you say you are, and I give you leave to break off
that engagement as soon as you please. There is Liz ask her
to come and sit with us ; I want to take leave of her."
Instead of that he put his head out, asked her to go and fetch
Mrs. Henfrey, and, as soon as she was gone, said, if I loved him
as much as I had said, I ought to give him a kiss.
I replied that if he would break off his supposed engagement
to me then and there I would ; and, with a good deal of laughter,
he consented, and bent his fresh boyish face towards me ; where-
upon I gave him a kiss, and felt no more inclined to blush on
the occasion than if it had been Tom.
" There," he said, as he lifted up his head, " I've broken off
the engagement I've not only been engaged, but broken it off.
Prentice shall know that before he is a day older I I've outdone
him at last."
" O Valentine ! " I exclaimed, " how can you be so ridi-
culous ? " But, at the same instant, Mrs. Henfrey and Liz
appeared, Valentine left the carriage, Mr. Brandon put Ann
Molton in ; and I had no sooner taken leave of the two ladies,
and noticed that Mr. Brandon looked very much out of counten-
ance, than the train started, and, before I had tvma to coUa& m^j
thoughts, we were several miles from ^Yigfie\&.
320 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
CHAPTER XXVL
" Heaven doth with us as we with torches do
Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtue*
Did not go forth of us, 'twere ail alike
As if we had them not" Shakjespbark.
It was a hot afternoon when Anne and I reached Miss Tott's
small house. How close and confined it was ! how dirty and
faded it looked ! how dim the windows ! and oh, the blinds !
" I am sure I shall detest this part of London," I said, when
Anne and I were left alone in my bedroom.
" I daresay this is the closest and dirtiest part, miss," said
Anne in her ignorance.
Miss Tott was very kind. My restlessness and my craving
for action excited her observation directly, and she did what she
could to soothe me.
I wanted not calm, but action. My mind was highly strung :
I dreamed of the sea ; I wanted my brother, and felt, day by
day more keenly, how cruelly thoughtless it was of Mr. Brandon
to have taken him away from me, just that he might more easily
amuse him at the time. I wanted also to forget that scene in
the wood. The fluttering of those leaves that let in wondering
spots of sunshine I often heard quite distinctly when I sat silent,
and the passionate tones of the noble voice that had said ignoble
things. It seemed too near me now, too prominent ; it was
almost intolerable sometimes, and I craved the power to dismiss
the mental echoes of its lovely tones, and St. George with them,
for ever. So in a very few days, having made up my mind that
I could not be happy with Miss Tott, and that I should like to
be near the British Museum, I sallied forth with Anne. We
bought a map of London, called a cab, and were set down close
to that veritable institution. We then bought a copy of the
Times, and while we ate some soup in a pastry-cook's shop, we
looked out for advertisements, and found several that seemed to
promise what we wanted. As we left each of these houses,
Anne said quietly, but without the least hesitation, that she was
sure it was not at all the right place for me to live in, and she
was also sure Mrs. Henf rey would agree with her. So I found
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 321
I had Anne to please as well as myself, and we soon decided
against them, and went home tired but hopeful.
The next day, however, in a street near the Museum we found
a widow lady, formerly the wife of a curate in that immediate
neighbourhood, and she gave us such unexceptionable references,
and offered both board and lodging on such reasonable terms,
that I thought I must venture to ask whether there was any
disadvantage connected with her rooms which made it difficult
lor her to let them.
She frankly told me that there was : she did not take any
boarders but ladies, and she gave music lessons every morning,
and had a singing-class twice a week. Ladies did not generally
like the music, and would not stay with her. Moreover, she had
three little boys, who went to school in the neighbourhood, and
therefore she dined at one o'clock, and could not change the
hour.
The terms were very reasonable, and I was told that I should
have the use of the small dining-room every day after two
o'clock ; but that all my meals, excepting my tea, I was to take
with the family.
Mrs. Bolton, my proposed hostess, did not seem to believe that
I would stay with her long hardly thought at first that I would
come to her at all ; but she could refer me to three clergymen,
she was an undoubted gentlewoman, and her house, though the
furniture was to the last degree faded and shabby, was exqui-
sitely neat and clean. I saw at a glance that Anne was contented,
and as we retired she said she thought this was the kind of place
Mrs. Henfrey would approve.
" Are you to describe it and Mrs. Bolton to her ? " I inquired.
" Yes, ma'am," she replied.
I felt that I was not alone in the world after all ; I was looked
after through my maid The idea was not unpleasing. Not one
of that family, excepting Valentine, had proposed to correspond
with me ; but I was thankful to find that Mrs. Henfrey, who
took so little notice of any one, was yet under the impression
that it behoved her not utterly to lose sight of me. So we took
those rooms, and in the course of a few days, having settled
money matters with Miss Tott, we went to them.
Excitement, novelty, resolution, and expectation \^\i\\k^fc
322 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
-^ ^^
kept me up. I had been busy too, and was not aware that the
first hour of idleness would be a trying one. So it was, how-
ever. We arrived, were welcomed, my boxes were taken upstain,
there was a dispute with the cabman, my clothes were unpacked
and laid in the drawers by Anne, and then she retired to ha
own little room, and I was left alone.
I was standing before the glass, as I well remember, putting
on my brooch. It wanted an hour to tea-time, and I had nothing
to do. I did not like to go downstairs in the strange house, aa
I had told Anne to call me when tea was ready.
The first odd sensations that I had were physical. My hand
began to tremble so that I could not fasten the brooch, and look-
ing at myself in the glass I perceived a sudden pallor, and began
to feel very cold ; an extraordinary sense of f orlornness followed,
and an undefined terror at the prospect which lay before me.
I went and laid myself down on the bed, and drew the quilt
over me; a longing that was almost unbearable came and
throbbed in my temples and sang in my ears, with the sound of
the sea, and the washing of waves, and the voices and trampling
of sailors' feet. I wanted Tom and my uncle ; I wanted my
own home, my cabin, my berth. This outer world that I had
been thrust into was almost intolerable ; but nothing could be
done. I knew not in what waters the " Curlew " might then be
rocking ; but I could get back to the house I had come from.
I yearned for it unspeakably. I thought of Valentine and his
father, and wanted to be near them. If it had not been for the
bluebells, and all that I had suffered in the wood where they
grew, I almost believe that in that hour of misery I should have
fled from London and wended my way back again into the
neighbourhood that I had so lately left.
But I did nothing.
Oh ! how could I how could I have come away to this
desolate London ? I moved my head on the pillow, and became
conscious that such sudden weakness had overpowered me as left
me no strength to rise. I shivered, and faintly longed to draw
more clothes over me, but could not.
What can this be ? was my bewildered thought. Am I ill,
and therefore nervous and terrified 1 or has this sudden know-
ledge of what it is to be desolate made me ill ?
On THE SKELLIGS. 323
Still lying quiet in my bed, with no power to rise, no power
to shed tears, and feeling every limb grow colder, I beard Anne
at last ; but the sound of her voice was dim. I thought she was
outside the door, but opening my dull eyes I saw her leaning
over me. I could then rouse myself sufficiently to say that I
did not feel well, and she presently brought a cup of hot tea
and some bread-and-butter to the side of the bed ; and when I
failed to raise my head, she said tenderly, "What is it, my
dear, sweet, pretty lady ? " and set down the cup, and lifting me,
laid my head on her bosom, began to chafe my hands and com-
fort me, drawing the blankets about me, and folding me in her
strong motherly arms. Oh ! how comfortable was the feeling of
nearness to something that lived and cared for me ! I drew my-
self close to her, and held her fast.
To my surprise her next words were, " You're not afraid,
ma'am, are you ? "
"I teas afraid," I answered.
" You have no call to be, ma'am. I've been expecting the
time when you would break down. You've been too busy by
half, thinking of all manner of things, and running about here
and there."
I answered, " I could not bear to be idle. I did not wish to
think about living alone till I was compelled to do it."
" Well, ma'am, but now you must think about it, because it
has begun. You're not so badly off, are you, ma'am, as the
disciples were when the Lord of glory told 'em He must leave
them, and yet He said that He would send them a Comforter
that should make them better off than they had been with Him ?
Well, ma'am, we've not lost anything so dear as the seeing and
hearing of the Saviour on earth ; and yet if we pray the Father
He will send the Comforter to us as well as to them. So we
have no need to feel as if we were desolate."
I tried to assent, and held her fast lest she should go, for her
words were healing medicine to me. She gave me the tea.
w Oh ! " I said, " I don't know how to live by myself, away from
every one that used to care for me."
I asked her to read to me. It was to be something in the
Bible that would do me good. I let her make her choice, and
to my surprise she began to read what I have alm^fc \JckSsvs^
324 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
the most affecting chapter in the whole Bible, the first chapter
of Ruth. It lost nothing by the grave, soft voice of reverent
gentleness, nor by the slight provincial accent ; and the moment
the familiar narrative began, I felt such an anguish of sympathy
with that ancient trouble and its mournful relation that my
desire to bear up utterly gave way, and I wept with such pas-
sionate distress as seemed to be my heart's expression of its own
sorrow, and of its aching over an earthly woe.
" Entreat me not to leave thee." No one had said so to me.
Thinking of that, I wept yet more, and hid my face and sobbed
with yearning unspeakable in the arms of my kind servant
" O Anne ! " were the first words I could utter, " I cannot
help this."
" No, ma'am," was her answer, " and you should cry as mneii
as you can ; that's what you want ; and then you will be ever
so much better."
I did cry heartily, but did not feel much the better for it,
though I did feel grateful to think of the kind of maid whom I
had secured a woman who, now that I was ill, made herself at
once my guardian and my comforter.
She stayed with me that night, and the next morning, as my
pulse was to the last degree feeble, she talked of sending for a
doctor. That roused me, and I managed to get up and be
dressed. That day, however, was a very dark day ; all sorts of
melancholy fears oppressed me, and anguish of heart at being so
utterly away from every one who cared for me.
I remember little that passed. I lay on a small, hard couch,
and looked out into the mews, or listened to Anne's reading and
talking.
I could eat, I could sleep ; there seemed to be nothing the
matter with me but sudden sinking of hearty which took away
my bodily strength.
On the third morning when 1 woke, after a miserable night,
I saw Anne enter with a little hamper. " From Mr. Valentine,
ma'am," she said, with a smile. I felt roused to interest, and
looked on while she opened it.
" How did he know my address ? " I asked.
" I wrote, miss ; I said I would."
She opened the little hamper. First came out a good deal of
OFF THE SKELLIGS, 325
Tret moss ; then a glorious bunch, of cut flowers, which it did
me good to look at ; then a pot with a geranium, covered with
buds, and protected by more moss ; lastly, a paper bag of new
potatoes, and a letter folded up in brown paper. To describe
the good it did me to lie all the morning looking at and smell-
ing those dewy flowers would be impossible. The letter too
amused me; it was as full of nonsense as it could hold; and I
was glad to perceive that, though Anne had given my address,
she had kept my illness to herself thinking, perhaps, that it
was my own affair, not that of my boy-lover, who all throughout
his letter kept up his character to admiration, and concluded, by
way of P. S., with a little sketch of a young man on one knee,
presenting a huge nosegay to a girl. A corner of the young
man's pocket-handkerchief protruded from his pocket, and was
conspicuously marked Y. M.
In spelling and puzzling over this letter I spent some time. I
then sat up and enjoyed my delicate new potatoes, and was truly
grateful to And that my strength and spirits were returning.
I got up, came downstairs, and enjoyed some tea. Oh the
welcome change ! and oh the peaceful sleep that followed and
lasted all night long !
I cannot say that during those dreary days any distinct
trains of argument had passed through my mind, which tended
to prove to me that as solitude was my lot I had better be
resigned to it; but I now felt very much resigned. Very
different from the despairing sensations of my first waking in
that house was the waking of this sunny morning. Anne had
done me good, time had done me good, and above all the com-
forting reading and talking had done me good ; and in two days
that is before I had finished the last of my new potatoes I
was able to take a walk, and in less than a week I was begin-
ning to look for some little boys who were obliging enough to
want to learn Latin.
I soon found that my only chance of earning as much money
as I wanted was to be a morning governess, for all the parents
to whom I applied wanted to have their children taken care
of for the whole morning. From nine till one was the very
shortest time that I was asked to spend with any family ; and
for that amount of attention twenty pounds a year was about
326 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
the average sum offered. This money would not have enabled,
me to learn wood-engraving, for which I had already found a
master.
My dreams of giving an hour's lesson a day were completely
overthrown ; but twenty-five pounds a year I was determined
to have ; and at last I got it, from a certain elderly widower,
whose eldest son was ten years old, but delicate, and not fit for
school. There were two other boys and a girl, and I agreed to
teach them from nine o'clock till one.
I had taken Anne with me, and she sat in the room where
my elderly widower was conducting his examination as to my
qualifications. " Is that your mother ? " he asked when he had
satisfied his mind.
" No, my maid."
Finding that astonishment at the notion of my having a maid
was overpowering his weak faculties, even to the endangering of
my prospects, I explained to him, that I possessed enough to
live upon, but wished to learn an expensive art, and therefore
must add to my income.
As he did not recover from his astonishment, I next told him
where I was living ; and after I withdrew, he came like a care-
ful widower, to speak to my hostess, and having ascertained
from her that what I had said was true, he left a message to the
effect that the sooner I could begin my instructions the better.
Accordingly I began to teach the very next morning. Anne
went with me, and came to fetch me at one o'clock. I found
my pupils very refractory at first ; but by degrees I got them into
good order, for happily there was no one to interfere. My em-
ployer was never at home ; indeed from the day when he engaged
me I saw him no more ; and the nurse upheld my authority,
and treated me with respect.
For the first fortnight of my governess life I was too much
tired during the afternoon to do more than take a quiet stroll
with Anne, or lie and listen to her reading; but after that,
as vain regrets moved further into the background, I became
stronger, and began to take my lessons in wood-engraving with
great delight. But the philanthropy, the charity, the usefulness,
where were these 1 I felt ashamed of myself sometimes when I
looked at Anne's quiet face, and considered how I had led her
Off the skelligs. 327
to believe that she should spend her life with me in works of
charity and mercy.
I had been considering that I should like to have a district of
poor people, and when I mentioned it to Anne I found her in
possession of some information regarding the parish in which
we were, and the clergyman whose church we attended. Mrs.
Bolton knew the clergyman; he was in great want of ladies'
help, both in the Sunday-school and among the poor.
Quite fearlessly and ignorantly, I immediately said that I
would take a district and also a class in the school, and that
Anne might have a class also, if she wished it. She was
evidently delighted, and I felt pleased when I set off with Mrs.
Bolton to call on the said clergyman, who proved to be a plea-
sant middle-aged man, and was quite willing to accept as much
help as we could give ; but shook his head at the notion of the
district, remarking that I was " very young, very young. "
Mrs. Bolton replied that my maid would always go with me.
" Well, well," he said, " I don't like to debar you from the
blessed office of ministering to others ; but the district just now
vacant is down a close court; the people are rough, poor,
untutored ; and I can hardly accustom myself to the notion of
a district visitor going about with a maid."
"I thought it would not be right," I said, "for me to go
alone."
He smiled. " I quite agree with you," he said ; and he went
on, "I suppose I must allow it. I wish I could get older
visitors, Mrs. Bolton. What sort of a person is this maid?"
Anne, who had walked with us, was sitting in the hall; I
had her brought into the room where we were talking, and the
moment he saw her his countenance cleared. "You wish to
have a class, I believe 1 "
" If you please, sir ; I should think it a great privilege."
" I have a class of little boys that no one likes to take."
"Any class you please, sir. I have no wish to choose."
*' Can you be punctual 1 "
Anne looked at me, and when I said that I would take care
she had it in her power to be punctual, he answered, " Give her
the power, and I think she will find the will," and he held out
his hand to shake hands with her.
328 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Our business was then arranged with great ease: no more
doubts whether or not I should have the district, no more hesita-
tion about my class ; but I observed that though the instructions
about these matters were ostensibly given to me, they wew
intended for Anne's edification quite as much as mine.
I cannot help laughing now when I think of the first yiflit
we paid to that district.
I put some buns in my bag for the children, some tracts foe
the parents, and took with me a pencil and some paper on which
to write tickets for meat and bread. We were not to give away
money.
The first house in that court contained six rooms, in every
room a family. Family No. 1, as we saw from the outside, had
its lower panes stuffed with rags. We knocked at the door and
entered.
A villanous-looking woman was sorting rags on the floor, and
three ill-favoured girls were helping her; two sickly babies
were crawling about half-naked. The disgusting odour of that
room cannot be conceived by any who have not entered such
a one ; and no wonder, for they were presiding over a heap oi
damp and filthy shoes, a heap of greasy silk, a heap of old rope,
of threadbare cloth, and, lastly, a heap of dusty tow that one oi
the girls was pulling out of the remains of a mattress.
The woman came forward, gave me a suspicious look, and
asked me what I wanted.
I could scarcely breathe, partly for the vile smell, partly for
the particles of tow. I was fain to ask her if she would like a
tract.
" Can't read."
I looked towards the girls.
" None on 'em can't read."
" Would they like to learn ?"
" No, they wouldn't."
" This is the district lady," Anne remarked.
" I knows 'em ; often seen 'em with their worked petticoats.
Never did me no good."
" Is there anything you're in want of ? " I was fain to ask,
and I fumbled for my pencil.
" We should like a bit o' tea and suga^"
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 329
80 I wrote a ticket, and we meekly withdrew.
u O Anne," I said, "I am sure I shall never dare to go near
that woman without giving her something ; " and we were both
so sick and faint with the odious fetid smell that we stood a few
minutes on the stairs to recover ourselves before we knocked at
door No. 2.
Door No. 2 opened into a little room not eight feet square,
and by the fire sat a cobbler at his work, mending old shoes and
burning the bits of leather he cut off from them. The smell of
new leather burning is bad enough ; but the smell of old leather
burning is a smell to remember for ever.
The man begged our honours to come in, and we contrived to
do so, bearing the atmosphere as well as we could. A snuffling
noise arrested our attention; it seemed to come from the wretched
bed ; and indeed a woman was lying there under the clothes, as
we soon perceived by the thrusting out of a very dirty hand.
"Your wife is ill?"
" No ; " begging our honours' pardon, " she was just a little
overcome with the dhrink, and sleeping it off, the crathur. She
been to Common Garden, she had, and brought a lovely
barrowful of frew-it, and there it was."
There it was, indeed, in baskets under the bed ! The man
drew out first a basket of green gooseberries ; then one of mackerel,
anything but fresh; then several huge bundles of rhubarb;
lastly some broccoli.
Anne asked if they always kept the things they sold under
the bed.
" Surely," said the man, " where would we find a better place ? "
Hopelessly filthy and ragged he was : the floor was caked
with dirt. I should have liked to talk with him, but felt so
much overpowered that I was fain to escape. Anne followed,
looking pale and dispirited.
When we knocked at the other rooms, our cobbler followed
us to explain that the owners of the rooms were out. There was
only one room occupied that was the garret, for a woman was
sick there. To her room we bent our steps, and opened the
door. No bed presented itself; only a heap of clothing, and
shavings and a mat. On it lay a woman with a brown face,
dull eyes, and white Jips. She was rambling in Tasst ^fc^\ *asL
330 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Anne, unable to breathe, rushed to the window and threw it up
The sweet sunshiny air came in, and the woman, who had just
awoke, seemed at the sight of us to be trying to collect her poor
scattered thoughts and speak coherently.
She longed for a cup of tea, and Anne promised she should
have one, leaving me to watch while she ran out to buy some.
In ten minutes she returned with some wood, lucifer matches,
tea, sugar, a little loaf, and a mug with some milk in it.
She had bought the mug, and it was well she had, for the
was no crockery visible on the bare shelf. She went and
lxrrowed a kettle, made a fire, washed the poor creature's face
and hands, set her up, and brought her the tea.
" I don't get no better," said the woman moaning, and scarcely
appearing to be surprised at what passed.
" How can you expect it, my poor soul," said Anne, " when
you're so lost in dirt ? "
The woman ate slice after slice of bread-and-butter, and drank
several cups of tea with eager relish. Then I asked her if she
would let me read a chapter in the Bible to her, and she con-
sented ; but I seemed to read the chapter in a dream, for she had
begged to have the window shut again, and the consequence was
that when I had reached the last verse I fainted away, for the
first and only time in my life, and became quite insensible.
I suppose Anne dragged me out of the room, for when I
opened my eyes I found that she was seated on the stairs with
me on her knee ; and she was so pale that I wondered whether
she would faint too.
There was something so ridiculous in our situation that we
both smiled.
" Anne," I exclaimed, " I would not be found here for a
good deal. This is too ridiculous. What shall we do ? "
" We certainly are beaten off the field this time, ma'am," said
Anne.
We got up and slowly went home, where we refreshed our-
selves with a cup of strong tea and some biscuit. I began to
perceive that these people were sunk too low to be reached by
me. I could not hope to do more than give them bread and
meat tickets, and I began to wish I had chosen some other useful
work instead of a district.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 33 1
Anne, however, was not of my mind. As she walked with
me to give my pupils their lessons, she asked if she might visit
the sick woman again. I said she might, and gave her half-a-
crown ; whereupon she departed, with a serene look of joy on
her sweet plain features. All the real usefulness was evidently
to be hers : I could neither clean rooms nor wash clothes, and
both these things she meant to do.
When she was describing to me in the afternoon how she had
hired an iron pot of the cobbler for twopence, and how a woman
who had a tolerably decent room had agreed to take in our poor
patient for the night, and help to limewash the walls and ceiling,
being paid for her work of course, Anne observed, " I feel now,
ma'am, as if we should be of some use."
" We ! " I exclaimed.
"Why, ma'am, you support me, and my time is yours;
to if you choose to give it back to me, why you give it to
them."
I said I would give her all I could of her time, and five
shillings a week of the ten I was earning by my little pupils.
The other five went for the lesson in wood-engraving.
By degrees, as Anne got one and another of these rooms into
something like order, I was allowed to enter them. I set up a
little club, and induced some of these people to pay money into
it weekly many of them earned a good deal at different times ;
but even this club had soon to be given up to Anne, for those
men who were costermongers came home at night with their
money, and if she would go for it then, she was welcome to it ;
if not, a good deal of it went for drink.
But I cannot chronicle this good woman's deeds. She devoted
nearly her whole time to this wretched court nursed the sick,
taught several young girls to work with their needles, and got
the men to lay up a good deal of money. All this was set in
train before I had been in London six weeks, and at that time I
received my first letter from my uncle, and gave up any lingering
hope I might have cherished concerning the return to a sea life,
for once and for ever.
There was very little in the letter; but I gathered that my
uncle missed me, though he could not have me back again ; that
he was very uneasy about Tom, who was not coii&uc\)\x^\^^i
332 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
so as to please him. There was no letter from Tom to me, and
my uncle had not heard from Australia.
If my relations took but little notice of me, Valentine seemed
determined to take a great deal He wrote continually, sent me
plants, which were always more or less damaged in the transit,
and soon faded in the London atmosphere ; sent me fish of his
own catching, the latest news of Captain Walker and Lou, and
the most authentic accounts of Prentice and Charlotte. For the
latter I did not care ; but I cared for the letters, and for the
kind-hearted fellow who wrote them. It was sweet and flatter-
ing to me to think that there was somebody in the world who
liked me well enough to wish to hear from me.
Poor Valentine ! when I had been in London about six weeto
he wrote to me in very low spirits to tell me that his lingering
hopes of being allowed to go to Cambridge were all over ; for he
had been spitting blood, and Dr. Simpsey had advised his father
not to let him study, and to keep him at home. In his usual
careless fashion he spoke of this symptom as if it was not of the
slightest real consequence, and described his father's depression
and Giles's anxiety as equally needless and provoking ; in short,
as a proof of what unreasonable people they were.
I believe the knowledge of his illness and the destruction of
his cherished wish made me feel more affectionately towards
Valentine. Indeed, he was the only person who took the trouble
to bring himself before me ; and his circumstances naturally led
me to think of him a good deal, and gradually to feel far more
real regard for him than I had ever done when we were together.
I led a singular life during that warm summer and autumn.
I taught all the morning ; I sat at my wood-cutting in the after-
noon, and took a stroll with Anne in the evening. Now and
then I went into the district myself, and marvellous indeed were
the changes I beheld.
Anne Molton, as I presently found out, was a very remark-
able woman ; and as soon as I had fairly humbled my mind
down to the point of being certain that she could do far better
and far more for the poor than I could, I took the lower place,
and earned the money for her to spend. She was not hasty,
but as opportunity offered she won the goodwill of the " pariahs."
She helped many of them to limewash their rooms ; she taught
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 333
the women to mend their clothes, and the girls to sew, to cook,
and to wash.
I taught my little pupils from nine till one; that was the
easiest part of my day ; the wood-engraving demanded at the
least two hours a day. During August and the two following
months I could work an hour before breakfast, and also in the
afternoon, and the wood-engraving happily could be done by
candle-light, so that I still retained time for my walk and for a
little reading. I had still only the five shillings a week that
I earned, and did not spend in lessons, to bestow in charity.
But Anne did such wonderful things with it, that I came to
think it a respectable sum. And at the end of the first and
second quarters, having spent in necessary outgoings the whole
of my income to within a few shillings, I was fain to take
Anne's own view of the matter, and allow myself to hope that
supporting her, and letting her devote herself to the poor, was
my appointed charity.
She still presided over my morning toilet, and she took mo
to, and fetched me from, my pupils ; she also walked with me
when I went shopping or took exercise: that was all. The
rest of her time that is, her morning and her evening I gave
her for the district, for her club, her lending-library, and her
evening school
It was a great privilege, and I hope it raised the tone of
my mind, to live with such a woman. Her contentment, her
almost rapture in her work, were wonderful to see. She spent,
I knew, at least half her wages on her charities ; yet, though
shabbily dressed, she was always neat, clean, and respectable in
appearance ; and the more she dwelt among the wretched hovels
of the poor, the better and the stronger she seemed. This went
on till the Christmas holidays ; for I had three weeks' holidays
at Christmas, and I enjoyed them quite as much as my pupils
did perhaps more.
Strange to say, I was decidedly happy ; I am quite sure of it.
I had no society ; but, then, I was not fitted to shine in society.
I had no amusements ; but, then, I had not a leisure hour in
which I could have enjoyed them. I was absolutely so busy,
that I had no time for regrets ; and when I went to bed, I was
too tired to lie awake long and think.
334 0FF raE SKELLIGS.
In saying that I had no amusements though, I am ungrateful.
I had the amusement of Valentine's letters, and very droll these
were ; very boyish of course, and sometimes not flattering, but
graphic and full of fun. They were not, I suppose, like the
letters of a lover at least, they were not at all like such letters
as they appear in books, and I never saw but one in manuscript!
Valentine, in his letters, often apologised to me for not having
written so soon as he meant to have done, by acknowledging
that he had forgotten, and sometimes he gave as a reason for
writing that he supposed I should be uneasy if I did not hear
from him. Most natural things to be said by a brother ; but
not very natural to be felt by a lover. I was, therefore, the
more to be pardoned for not considering Valentine to be mj
lover, and for treating him, as I always had done, with frank
affection.
Affection I certainly felt for him in no common degree. I
was even willing to devote my life to him, in any other way
than the way which he still often proposed.
One bitterly cold day, during my holidays, I had just dined;
Mrs. Bolton was gone out with her little boys, and Anne, during
a brief period of sunshine, was trying on a new gown, which she
and I had just finished, for my wearing. It was the first I had
had since coming to London, and Anne was congratulating herself
on the fit, when the servant came up and gave me a card
Mr. Valentine Mortimer.
" He's in the parlour, miss," said the servant, and disappeared.
A visitor a visitor from Wigfield, too was such an unex-
pected thing, that I stood dumb and motionless. Anne took out
my best brooch, put it on, and had smoothed my hair, before it
occurred to me that I must run down to see Valentine.
" How do I look, Anne l"I exclaimed, meaning " Am I neat
and fit to go down ? "
Anne pulled a tacking thread out of my new gown, smiled,
and said, " Well, miss, what with the dress, and what with the
colour in your cheeks, I never saw you look better."
I understood that involuntary smile perfectly well, but had
neither power nor inclination to remove the impression which had
given me to it
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 335
I ran downstairs, and there stood the great long-legged fellow,
with a boa round his neck. We shook hands, and launched into
home talk directly.
St George, he said, had brought him up for some further
advice ; but he made light of his symptoms and looked so well,
that I began to agree with him, and think there could not be
much the matter.
He soon began to examine the wood-engraving.
" Then your brother is in London V I said, and I felt rather
alarmed at the notion that he might appear.
" Yes ; where do you think he is now ? He left me at the
door-step here, and went to inspect the copper that Anne is
having built in the district."
" Inspect the copper ? What does he know about it ? "
" Oh, it's just in his line ; he is learned, you know, about
model cottages, and estimates for schools, and all that sort of
humbug."
" You should not call it humbug. But how did he hear of it 1 "
" Why, you mentioned it to me, didn't you ? how your uncle
had sent you ten pounds, and how Anne had hired a room for the
neighbourhood to have their wash in do their ironing ? "
" Oh yes, I remember ; but I did not think I had said any-
thing about the copper, and that it wanted inspection ; but it
does, for it smokes and won't act. But how does he know the
way to the district ? "
%i Oh, he has a natural genius for ferreting out dirty places.
Dick has got a curacy in London hard work and no pay worth
mentioning. It will be the delight of his little High-Church
souL"
" It appears to me that you are deteriorating ! "
Valentine did not honour this remark with any notice, but
went on
" Sister is going to send Dick a hamper almost every week.
She is afraid he should be starved. That fellow is a saint ; but
I don't see why he need pat the heads of the dirty beggar
children with his bare hands."
" Does your brother ever do that ? "
" No. He is a saint too in his way ; but, my dear Dorothea,
there are simple saints in this world, and there are k&QY(\XL^Qrc&&"
336 OFF THE SKELLIG8.
CHAPTEB XXVIL
" Let the mutton and onion sauce appear." Nicholat NicHeby.
Valentine and I were still cosily talking when there was a ring
at the bell, and Mr. Brandon was shown in. I had expected to
feel very uncomfortable, nervous, and bashful on the occasion;
but after the first moment I did not, for the simple reason that
he showed all those feelings so strongly as absolutely to pat me
at my ease.
I was surprised certainly ; but the relief was so great that I
could not pity his discomfort, and I was glad to be certain, as I
now was, that he was aware of the absurdity (to use no harsher
word) of his last conversation with me.
He too seemed curious about the wood-engraving ; and when
Valentine had pushed him into a chair, and placed a block of
wood before him, he recovered himself so far as to ask some
questions about it ; not of me, however, but of his brother.
" What's this stuff for? It looks like whitening."
" Why, you put your finger into it, and smooth it carefully
over the surface of the block to make it white."
" Well, I have stuck my finger in."
" Smooth away then, old fellow."
"There what next? But, Miss Graham, you see this: I
suppose you don't disapprove ? "
" No I'll answer for her you don't, D. dear. Now, Giles,
draw something on the white surface, and I'll show you how to
cut it out."
" You will, will you ? I should hope I have sense enough to
do that myself. Here's a little digger that looks just suitable."
He began to draw, and Valentine and I, seated on the sofa
close at hand, went on talking at our ease till he suddenly
announced that he had made a drawing.
"Well, dig it out then," said Valentine, "since you will have
it that you know how. I say, D. my dear, what's this thing?
it looks like an empty oil-flask corked and turned upside down,
and I declare it's full of water."
"It's only to throw a li$hi \^ou m$ engraving when I work
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 337
by lamplight. Look, here is a wide-necked bottle full of sand.
I insert the narrow neck into the wide neck to make it steady,
and set a candle behind : the result is that a beautifully clear
and soft spot of light falls through upon the bit of the wood I
am engraving."
"I wish you'd throw a light, then, on this fellow's work.
Look what he's doing ! he's cutting away all the strokes and
leaving the ground."
" Just what you were going to do yourself ! "
"D., I shall learn to engrave will you teach me?"
" I am not far enough advanced for a teacher."
" Well, but sit down and let us see you do a little piece."
" By the by," said Mr. Brandon, " have you, Valentine, made
any way as concerns the antipodes ? "
"No," said Valentine, "I haven't settled the preliminary
point yet. I was just going to introduce it when you came in."
And thereupon he hung over my chair, and began to watch the
progress of the graving-tool, till, hearing a curious little noise
behind me, I turned and found that he had taken Mrs. Bolton's
slate, whereon she usually wrote her engagements, had written
a few words on it, and was holding it up for his brother's
inspection.
As I turned, I of course saw what Valentine had written ; it
was, "I could do it if you'd only go for another half-hour."
Mr. Brandon presently rose with an indulgent smile, which,
when he met my eyes, became a laugh, in which Valentine
joined, and I also, though I hardly knew why. He marched out
of the room, and Valentine after him. I heard some slight
discussion. I also heard the words " blockhead," " goose," and
" silly fellow " used, but in a particularly good-humoured tone,
and immediately after the street-door was opened, shut again,
and Mr. Brandon walked past the window. Wondering what
this meant, I presently opened the door, and there I found
Valentine laughing in the passage.
" Why don't you come in 1 " I said. " And what have you
done with your brother ? "
" He's only gone out for an airing," replied Valentine.
" Do you want to go too ? " I asked.
"No, I came to talk to you."
338 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" What, whilst I stand with the door-handle in my hand, and
yon lean against the wall, with your head among the great-coats.
Ridiculous ! "
Finding that he still stood and laughed, I shut the door;
and he instantly opened it again, and looked into the room,
exclaiming
" Dorothea, did you know that Giles was going to New Zealand
again next week ? "
" No."
" Well, he is, and he thought I'd better tell you."
" Tell me ! why ? "
"You need not look so astonished, so almost frightened.
Why, because oh, I don't know exactly. Do you think New
Zealand is a nice place ? "
" Yes, I have every reason to think so."
" You see, D., I have nothing ; but Giles said that when he
was in New Zealand he could buy me some land, if I in the
meantime would learn farming. I have been turning my atten-
tion to it."
" What, is your brother going to take you with him ? "
"Oh, no; of course not. We should neither of us think
of leaving this country permanently so long as my father is
with us."
" Well, Valentine ? "
" Well, Dorothea, supposing that you liked a fellow, and his
destination was New Zealand would it make you like him
less 1 "
"No."
" Ah ! but would it prevent your marrying him ? "
" If I could make up my mind to marry * a fellow, 9 I should
marry him wherever he was going."
All this had passed as he stood holding the door-handle, his
tall person being half in the room and half out.
He now shut the door and came in and sat by me on the sofa,
as if he had no more to say. But it appeared that he had, for
the corners of his mouth relaxed into a smile and he exclaimed
" What do you think that humbug Prentice has done 1 "
" Been plucked at Cambridge ? "
" Oh, no ; that's to come "
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 339
" Broken off his engagement to Charlotte ? "
" Why, not exactly ; but they've returned each other's letters,
because he says he finds that what he felt for her was merely
friendship."
" Oh ! indeed ; like what you feel for me. But I'm sorry for
poor Charlotte ! "
" Don't be disagreeable ; ' comparisons are odious ' (Sheridan).
You need not be sorry for Charlotte, for she confided to me the
other day that if she hadn't been afraid of being laughed at she
would have broken it off long ago. It was such a bore to be
always writing to him. She never could think what to say."
" Perhaps you can sympathise with her there."
" Not at all ; on the contrary, I wish I hadn't made so much
of you at first, for now, however often I write, you are not grate-
fuL * It is good discretion not to make too much of any man at
the first ; because one cannot hold out that proportion ' (Lord
Bacon). Look it out when I'm gone."
" Have you really and sincerely considered whether you can
take to farming land, and whether you can live in New Zealand V 1
"No, D., I haven't; but Giles has, and Giles, has talked to
me so that it would do you good to hear him."
" You take things too easily. I wonder how you can live on
in this half-hearted way."
" * Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea ' (the immor-
tal Bill)."
" No ; but, Valentine, if Giles buys land for you, your destiny
will be fixed, and you may find that you are not in your element,
though the fishes unquestionably are."
" I tell you, child, that they say nothing could do me so much
good as the pure air of that new country, and the being always
out of doors in it. And if I stop here, I have nothing. I'm
not to study ; and I have no capital to buy a partnership, so
Giles takes me in hand. He provides capital for the future,
and you interest for the present."
" I thought that the study of farming was what you were to
interest yourself in for the present"
Valentine smiled. "Dorothea," he presently said, "if you
won't go out with me to New Zealand, I'll ask Fanny Wilson.
But I forgot to ask whether the cookery sd^mfcaaasro'scfc?
340 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" I have not tried it, nor do I think I shall."
" Not tried it 1 I believe it was partly the account you
of your intentions as to cooking that made Giles think you would
make such a glorious wife for a colonist."
"lam sure he is very obliging ! But, Valentine, truly and
seriously I do not wish you to joke any more on such a serious
subject."
" I will not, D. ; all I wish is that you should allow things to
take their course, and not settle beforehand in your own mind
that you will never marry me."
He spoke so seriously now that I had no answer ready.
In about two years, as he went on to say, lie should be in a
position to marry ; should liave a home to offer, and a brother to
back him. I could not, therefore, pass the subject off any longer,
or treat his advances, young as he was, either as an impertinence
or a joke ; and though I absolutely refused to allow him to
cherish any hopes, I at last said that I " would not settle in my
mind beforehand not to like him," but I would let things take
their course. At the same time, I told him carefully that I did
not think I could ever love him well enough to become his
wife.
" Well, but D., my dear," he said, " supposing that I married
somebody else, and Giles and I went to New Zealand, don't you
think you should feel rather desolate 1 "
I confess that this view of the subject struck me forcibly,
and for a few minutes I had nothing to reply. I had no friends,
and only one lover. If he withdrew, what a desolate lot would
be mine !
" Well, D., my dear 1 " he presently said, as if asking for an
answer, but no answer was ready. It appeared that Mr. Bran-
don, so elaborately careful that I should not mistake his own
intentions, had no wish to prejudice his brother against me;
but I felt that he must be quite as simple a saint as Dick a
Court if he could think I was in love with him in June, and
ready to marry his boy-brother in December, and I was offended
at his wishing it.
"Don't you mean to say anything, Dorothea?" continued
Valentine, laying his hand on mine with more manliness of feel-
ing* than he had yet shown.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 34 1
" Yes ; I wish to say that you are very young at present to
make your choice for life, and I wish you to be absolutely free.
I must be free also."
" How long must I be free ? "
"At the very least, for a year."
" And then you will either accept or decline me ? "
"Yes."
"It's extraordinary that I cannot make you believe I care
for you."
" That is by no means all I have to consider. I have to make
up my mind whether I care enough for you."
He laughed with a sort of exultant joyousness. " I shall not
trouble my head about that," he exclaimed. " I am quite con-
tent on that head."
"What do you mean, child V I made answer, and then we
had a short contention as to the appropriateness of the epithet,
and then as to his having any cause for the contentment he had
expressed, and at last he said he had not meant to be rude.
" But only look," he went on, " at the letters you write me ;
sister says they're beautiful."
" Oh, sister sees them, does she ? "
"Yes, sometimes."
" Any one else ? "
" Well, I let that old hag, Dorinda, see one or two. I thought
I had better keep in her good graces, as you are so fond of her."
" You are the most extraordinary boy I ever heard of."
" So St. George say& But don't call me a boy; it really isn't
fair."
" Well, man, then ; but now I wish to say, quite seriously,
that I never will write to you again as long as I live if you show
my letters to any one whatever."
" I won't, then. I call that a gratifying prohibition."
Before we had time to pursue this conversation any further,
Mr. Brandon came in again, looking rather cold after his airing.
It was getting dusk ; he sat down, and with great composure
and gravity began to discourse with me on indifferent topics, just
as if he had not been sent out, and as if he did not perfectly
well know what we had been talking about
I answered him with composure \ indeed, Vatai&YbKfe ^x^slV
342 OFF THE SKKLLIGS.
able openness, and my want of any feeling but a sisterly intimacy
towards him, made me, in spite of the matter we had discussed,
quite devoid of conscious blushes or uncomfortable shyness. But
1 was aware of an earthquake-like heaving in the spring of the
sofa on which we were seated, and which tried my gravity sorely.
Valentine's sense of the ridiculous was very keen, and the next
remark being addressed to him, he struggled for an instant to
answer, and then threw himself back in the corner of the sola
with such shouts and peals of laughter, that the little titter
which I tried in vain to repress was no doubt perfectly in-
audible.
St. George's delicate endeavours to spare our blushes "were
quite irresistible to Valentine ; it was such an unnecessary piece
of refinement on his part, and the result of such a complete
misunderstanding of us, that I could have laughed again, if I
had not seen a sensitive flush mount up to his forehead: he was
absolutely ashamed for Valentine, and he cast a deprecatory
glance at me, which seemed to bespeak my forbearance for him.
That look recalled me to myself. I could not let St. George
think I wanted any pity from him, or would accept from him a
mute apology for the open-hearted fellow who was indulging in
this outrageous mirth.
So I did not answer the look at all, but sat demurely by till
Valentine had exhausted himself, and sat up again, first looking
at his brother and then at me.
It is not agreeable to be laughed at ; and St. George, when
he became aware that Valentine's mirth was at his expense,
started up, pulled down his dark eyebrows with unmistakable
signs of anger, and again darted a look at me which I was
determined to misunderstand. So I allowed myself to smile,
and said to Valentine, " How can you be so rude as to laugh at
your brother 1 "
" I couldn't help it," said Valentine ; " and he doesn't care."
Mr. Brandon's countenance, when he found that we were both
laughing at him, was worth the study ; he really looked unutter-
able things ; but both he and Valentine had admirable tempers,
and when the latter said something apologetic, he passed the
matter off with a joke, and on reflection laughed himself.
" Dorothea," said Valentine, quite regardless of his presence,
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 343
how nice you look ! I did not think you were so pretty.
How your eyes shine in the firelight don't they, Giles ? "
" Yes," said the accommodating Giles, without even turning
to look at me ; but I could see that in his turn he was secretly
amused and surprised at our behaviour, and as he sat before the
fire in a musing attitude his lips trembled with a little half-smile.
" Now don't be shy, D.," continued Valentine. " I wish you
would not shrink yourself in the corner like a discovered fairy
fluttering down into a convolvulus belL Giles, I say, will you
look here ? "
" Well," said Giles.
* What do you see ? "
" I only see Miss Graham."
" And is that all you have to say about it ? "
" 1 have seen her several times before," answered Giles. " 1
do not remark any very striking change."
Being now goaded to desperation, I exclaimed that if they
went on talking of me I should certainly go.
" What does it matter, D. dear ? " answered Valentine ; " you
are so far withdrawn into the shadow that we cannot see your
face only the nickering of the firelight on your hair. What a
stunning hairdresser Aunt Molton is ! "
" And what powers of observation you have ! " said St. George.
" What do you mean, Giles ? "
" Merely that there is no change whatever in the dressing of
the hair," he persisted.
"lam sure there is ; now is there not, Dorothea ? "
"I told you I must go, if you would talk in this way."
" Well, 111 leave off if you'll only answer this one question,
and not turn away your face so shyly ; it's no use, for now I can
see the back of your head, and the hair is coiled up exquisitely I
What should Giles know about it? He can't bear girls."
" Come," said Mr. Brandon, starting up, " it is time we were off.
" I shall not go till she answers."
" I declare you are intolerable. Come, I will not see Miss
Graham tormented : come away."
"Well, that is good. Let me alone, Giles. You, indeed,
setting up for the champion of the ladies ! you ! Am I
tormenting you, Dorothea ? "
1
344 0FF THE SKELLIGa
" Not particularly."
" Miss Graham is in a dilemma. She will not answer yon
because that would be to proclaim me in the right ; whereas she
would rather that you were. There now, you know all, and she
cannot deny it."
I did not attempt to deny it. He had fathomed my thoughts,
and uttered my reason aloud ; but my heart was sore against
him, for he had deliberately pulled himself down and degraded
himself from the pedestal of honour which I had fancied that he
ought to occupy. No, it was not right to accept his champion-
ship ; so I hid my discomfort at Valentine's pertinacity as well
as I could ; and when he said, " Now, D. dear, pray say some-
thing ! " I replied, that as they were bent on going, I would say,
" Good night."
" Good night, then," said Mr. Brandon, " and good-bye, for
next week I sail for New Zealand, and I may not have time to
call on you again."
I felt a chill come over me, and held out my hand. He just
received my fingers for an instant in his, and withdrew them.
I shook hands with Valentine, and they went away. I heard
their voices in the passage, and I heard Mr. Brandon speak to
the cabman, as I still stood in the place where they had left me.
As long as I had been busy and he absent, I had been able
to keep that scene in the wood at bay ; now it had drawn near
again, and I was ashamed for myself and for him. His grave
steady face and the sudden sweetness and feeling of his smile
kept me puzzling as to how it could be reconciled with a certain
want of feeling which he had betrayed that evening. He had
had the air of a good-humoured man, who was rather in an
absent mood and felt somewhat bored by the absurdities of
his two companions; this was after he had got over his first
nervousness.
Buoyant he was by nature and cheerful on principle, but that
night he had shown a kind of indulgent partiality towards
Valentine that he did not extend to me, whom he scarcely spoke
to ; and this had lasted till, having a good deal of business on
his hands, he had no patience to let us detain him any longer.
I perceived that it would be very convenient to that family
it I would marry Valentine, &ui & 'torn to \fc\akfc tdmself early
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 345
to a fine climate and a healthy lot. I think that circumstance
decided me to take my time ! I did not want St. George to
have the disposing of me, and to settle everything precisely as
he chose.
Though I had a right to the dining-room in the evening, I
generally went upstairs and drank tea with Mrs. Bolton, when
she chanced to he alone. That evening she and her children
were dnt ; so when Anne brought in my tea I asked her to
remain with me. She was too well bred to betray any curi-
osity ; but when I remarked that the gentlemen were looking
well, she said she had seen Mr. Brandon in the district. "I
happened to light on him," she said, " and he sent for a brick-
layer, and showed him what was the matter with the copper.
Then he talked to the family in No. 4 that set I told you I
had hopes of : he told them about Canada ; said he would help
them to go there if they liked. He's a real gentleman. All the
people that saw him were delighted with him."
People who are destined to get the command over others often
surprise one by having the last style of manner that one could
expect. They are not in the least alike either, as I have had
opportunity of judging.
I understood from Anne that the family in question had
politely assured him that they would do as he pleased. His
behaviour to the women was always characterised by a peculiar
air of courteous deference, a sort of homage to their sex, which
was evidently natural to him, but which placed them very much
at his mercy, because it made them so bashful ; but the men he
often treated with a lordly air of superiority, much as a master
does his schoolboys, and it almost always seemed to answer. It
was only at Wigfield that he had ever been hissed or made game
of, but then that was the neighbourhood in which he had played
all the pranks of his boyhood ; where, in fact, as his old tenant
expressed it, " he had chivied the pigs."
He went into the district the next morning, and, with Anne
to help him, found out several little reforms that were wanted,
and set them on foot ; then he pounced upon two half-starved
young needlewomen, and set them to work upon making outfits
for themselves, in case, as he informed them, they should wish
to go to Canada, which in the end they did ma\*. to &&.
346 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
In the meantime Valentine came to me in a very sulky
humour, and asked me to give him a lesson in wood-engraving.
I inquired what was the matter? and he told me that " Sister"
had written to St. George, and said he was not to allow him
(Valentine) to he always philandering after me, unless Anne
Molton went with us ; it was not proper, and she wouldn't allow
it. " And he's actually coming here to-day, and, in fact, rather
often," continued Valentine, " because sister says he must ! It
will be a horrid bore for him, and we shan't have half the fun
we might have had."
It was a very foggy morning, and I could with difficulty see
to go on with my engraving. I felt deeply obliged to " Sister *
for having indicated her wishes, and so let me understand what
was customary, for I knew very little ; but I did not let Valen-
tine see this, and I could not help feeling exceedingly amused
when I saw Mr. Brandon coming up the steps looking quite out
of countenance, and evidently feeling his ridiculous position,
and also that he was anything but welcome.
As long as he was nervous I was quite at my ease, but the
fog got so yellow and so thick that I was obliged to leave off my
work ; and while I was putting the tools away and telling them
how rich I should be when I began to earn the two pounds a
week that had been promised me, I observed Valentine's spirits
fall; he almost groaned. "You can't think," he said, "how
miserable it makes me to think that I was the person who in-
duced you to take Anne Molton, and now you spend your life in
earning money for her to lay out."
"Yes," I answered, "I am her servant. But how do you
know that I shall not be appointed her attendant, her minister,
or whatever you like to call it, in the next world ? I seem to
suit her so well that I often think this will be the case ; and if
so, it is just as well that I should learn to understand her that
I should prepare."
" You are setting yourself against everything really high in a
woman's lot," exclaimed Valentine, as angrily as if he had had
a full right to lecture me, and as gravely as if he had been a
man of forty. "You are getting so religious that there will
soon be no living with you : you are worse than Dorinda."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 347
^ - ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
"Gently, gently," said St. George, but hardly in a tone of
remonstrance, rather as if he took Valentine's part.
Valentine heaved up a great sobbing sigh. " Hang it all ! "
he said under his breath ; then he walked to the window, and
St. George settled his face into an expression of almost super-
natural gravity, as was the way with both that mother's sons
when they felt inclined to laugh.
" You're always trying to elevate me," he continued in a deeply
injured tone, and the fog, by one of those sudden changes never
seen but in London, grew suddenly transparent, and the great
copper-coloured ball, the sun, glinted on his handsome young face.
" I don't mind letting you do it, for a consideration," he went
on ; " but I'm not going to be elevated for nothing."
" You talk of yourself," I replied, " as if you were a mere
bubble, and I could blow you up as out of a pipe ; why, even
if I could, you would soon come down again."
" You write to Dorinda about wishing to lead the higher life,"
he went on sulkily ; " she told St. George that you did."
" But you don't think that I am leading that higher life now,
do you, or even a specially religious life ? "
" Yes, of course I do."
" I am not, then not at all ; though it is true that I came
to London hoping to do so. I am not living in the same world
that A Tine does, but I am conscious that there is such a world."
" You spend all the time and money you can on the poor,"
he replied.
" But I could do that with pleasure if there was no God. I
like to earn money. I leave the trouble, the fatigue, all the ex-
penditure of feeling, and the weariness of failure to Anne. I
cannot raise common work into a religious act ; on the contrary,
I bring down what might be high work to my own level."
"I don't know what you mean, D.," he answered with
irritation.
If his brother had not been present, I should have reminded
him that he had no right whatever to make me give an account
of myself ; but not liking to snub him before his elder, I an-
swered with docility
"I mean that I cannot make my wood-engraving religious
work : it pleases me in itself. I mean also that I absolutely
348 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
must have some active employment. I am so devoid of friends,
so without society, so away from what I love that I should
pine away if I had nothing to do. I mean, further, that if I
could get hack to the * Curlew/ to-morrow I should be deeply
delighted I should think it quite right to do so."
" Oh," he answered, brightening suddenly, as the day did, his
smile and the sunshine beaming out together ; " to the ' Curlew*
or to any other place, or any other lot, that you thought was
happier than this."
I felt very much disinclined to answer, the lot he meant being
so evident ; but as he stood before me waiting, I at last brought
myself to say, " Yes."
Thereupon he moved nearer to the window and stood gazing
out, while the remains of the fog moved bodily westward before
a mild east wind ; then, to my surprise, taking out a letter, he
said to his brother, " Don't you think I might get the Indian
stamp and post this now, the weather looks quite clear ? " St.
George thought he might, and Valentine, giving him a significant
look, went out, presently shut the street-door behind him, and
I found to my discomfort that I was going to be left alone with
his brother.
But it was light now, so I began to arrange my wood-engrav-
ing on the table, which being set in the window, with a low
opaque blind in front of it, would enable me to sit with my
back to him, and also have the relief of something to do.
It was evident that he was to communicate something to me,
but he was in no hurry; he sat absolutely silent for several
minutes, then he said, " Valentine feels hurt because he cannot
convince you of his devoted attachment."
Devoted attachment ! what ridiculous words to apply to the
Oubit's feelings !
" Oh, does he ? " I answered ; " I am sorry he should be vexed ;
but perhaps, if I am not convinced "
" Well, Miss Graham ? "
" And perhaps if I cannot feel at present that I ever shall be
convinced, it would be very unkind in me to let him make any
mistake on that head."
He seemed so nervous again that I became quite at ease ; and
when he said, in a bunging, a^^ra&^tt^^J&ak ha should be
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 349
very glad to do anything he could in the matter, I was so
surprised, considering Valentine's youth and uncertain prospects,
that I could not help answering, " But does it not strike you as
rather odd that, if he cannot manage his own affairs himself, he
should think any one else can manage them for him ? "
A long silence followed, but he had seemed to treat the
matter so seriously that I was less able than usual to consider it
a joke ; and at last I said, " And even if at the end of a year or
two he did still wish to engage himself to me, which is very
doubtful, I have never received the least intimation from his
father or Mrs. Henfrey that such a thing would be agreeable to
them."
I certainly expected some sort of answer then ; even if the
old man had never formally said that he approved, I supposed
Mr. Brandon would say that no doubt when consulted he would
give a willing assent. But no, he said nothing of the sort ; he
said nothing at all ; so I thought I should try to investigate this
matter through Valentine, because, if they did not approve, I
could retract what I had said about waiting a year, and give
him a formal dismissal at once.
When St. George did speak it was to say something flattering
as to Valentine's improvement under my influence. " But," he
added, with a certain deference and hesitation of manner, " I do
not see what object you could have had in talking to him as
you- did this morning."
" I wish to disavow all unreal things. I do not set myself
above Valentine, and I meant him to know it."
"But I consider that aspiration alone takes you quite out of
: his world : the highest thing he aspires to is to you."
" I have aspiration, certainly, but I do not know that it is of
the right sort. Did you ever hear Tom talk on this very subject,
this which Valentine called ' the higher life ' ? "
"Yes, I have. Graham has many strange feelings."
" He believes that there is a God," I answered ; "he believes
that certain men have been, certain still are, privileged to have
dealings with Him to be conscious of intimations from His
Great Spirit. He feels an intense intellectual curiosity about
this."
" Yea, he talked with me, and said Taa k&ero \!tia\x^\Kt^^
350 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
rarely believed or considered by tbose who have no conscious
experience of it; he did believe it, and he wondered at the
indifference and incredulity of outsiders : he does not confound
it with the prickings of conscience, or with that occasional draw-
ing of men's minds in particular directions, which may be
called 'the Spirit of God moving ' in the thoughts of the
nations."
" No ; and it is agreed that people cannot reach up to have
communication with that divine life only through their minds.
They cannot understand those astonishing and difficult things
alluded to in some of the Epistles, for instance, only by learning,
and from without ; but don't you think it natural that those
who are not irreligious, only unreligious, should want to search
into this matter, and understand as much of it as they can 1 "
" It is natural for a man so remarkable as your brother ; but
you cannot be describing yourself, for you have no reservations.
You would be willing to be taken into that great life, whatever
it might cost you. You are attentive and obedient to what you
know of it."
" Yes ; but I often feel as Tom does, and no doubt because
he put it into my head, that quite apart from devoutness of
heart, or reverence, or religion of any sort, there is enough in
that subject to give me a keen interest in those who belong to
this Kingdom. I like to wait upon Anne on that account. "
"Do you think, then, that when David said, 'My soul is
athirst for God,' it was not necessarily a religious longing that
he felt f "
" No ; but yet it seems to me that such a thing is possible."
" Possible that life may be drawn towards its source. Yes ;
but not that the perception of such drawing should be without
a sense that the life which draws is also Light, and that it is
pure. Then, if man will let himself be drawn, if he desires
to be drawn to this light and this pureness, that is religion."
I saw Valentine coming back again. He had a card in his
hand, and while he waited till his knock was answered, he drew
my attention to it, then laid his hand on his lips. When he
entered, he, however, did not say anything concerning his devoted
attachment, but, leaning over my work, put the card before me.
On it was written, " Invite us\o\k to tea* Wmoosrci % w 8o % after
OFF THE SKELLTGS. 351
a few minutes, I did as requested, and told them I drank tea at
half-past five.
Valentine arrived the next day at five. I think by that time
he had nearly forgotten his annoyance at our not being engaged.
He was in high spirits, and said audaciously, " I shall be very
hungry, D. dear. Do you mind accepting this little offering ? "
and he laid on the table a paper parcel, containing three red
herrings and a lot of turnip radishes of the very largest size ever
seen. I believe they really were young turnips. I was a good
deal surprised when he added that he was always so hungry, and
he knew I should have provided nothing but thin bread-and-
butter. I knew that he and St. George would dine together at
their hotel about eight o'clock, but when Valentine begged me
not to tell his brother, " because Giles would think it so odd," I
consented, and he -seemed to me to be more of a boy and less of
a lover than ever.
He then withdrew and had a long consultation with Anne in
the passage, during which I heard his chuckling laugh repeatedly.
" Why did you get those horrid radishes ?" I asked, when he
returned, for I was sure there was some mischief brewing.
" Only for a relish," he replied. " They were grown in Corn-
wall, and are not common at this time of the year ; but there's
no need to tell Giles that. Giles is so shocked at the state of
things here the queer things in this room, the shabby furniture.
Here he comes ! * Oh, what a delicious go ! ' (Dickens). Yes,
here he is."
" Shocked, is he ? " I said, as he rang the bell.
" Of course. What else can you expect from a fellow that
employs such a tailor ; a fellow that buttons his gloves ? "
" I wish you were not so untidy ; I wish you would button
yours," I said, and I looked round. Two vases, clumsy and
made of Derbyshire spar, stood on the chimney-piece, with tall
bunches of dried grass in them ; in the middle was a little house
made of shells, such a house as one buys at seaside places for
half-a-crown ; it had small glass windows. The table was
covered with a dark, glossy material, like oilcloth, but not so
stiff. The carpet had hardly any pattern left, and one could see
the tow it was woven on; the cane-bottomed chairs, though
clean, were exceedingly ancient and shabby.
352 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Enter Mr. Brandon, and the repast at his heels. First a tea-
tray, with some common crockery on it ; more of it seemed to
be cracked than was usually the case. The large Britannia-
metal teapot that I generally had to use was there in full force,
with its black handle. It had a rather battered effect, and a
deep dent on one side of it was on this occasion turned towards
the company.
But when the stout Staffordshire servant entered again, with
a smoking hot dish of red herrings and the big turnip radishes,
which she set down on the table with a bang, St. George glanced
first at her and then at the viands, and seemed for the moment
overcome with surprise. Indeed he found it impossible to hide
his discomfiture, almost his dismay. Valentine was exceed-
ingly happy ; his countenance beamed with joy as he stuck a
steel fork into the biggest of the herrings, and mildly put it on
his brother's plate.
" D. dear," he continued, constituting himself master of the
ceremonies, " will you take any any fish ? No ? Well, if you
are not hungry, it was the more considerate of you to make these
kind yet simple preparations." He then sat down beaming, and
began to despatch his herring, while St. George, after a momen-
tary hesitation, went at his like a man.
St. George for once was completely taken in by the Oubit.
I never saw any one look at once so surprised and so dismayed.
As yet I believe he suspected that one or both of us were making
game of him, for he went on with his herring, preserving a cer-
tain gravity which a little disconcerted us.
" Now, what did you mean by this 1 " I asked when he was
gone, and Valentine was chuckling over the remains of the
feast.
"He won't say any more," answered Valentine, "that he
sometimes hesitates as to whether you ought to be asked to leave
the luxuries and comforts you are accustomed to ! "
The next morning Miss Tott appeared, and sweetly and ten-
derly proposed to take me to the Crystal Palace. Valentine soon
came in, and did not deny that Giles had arranged the matter.
" He could not take us himself," said Valentine, chuckling ; " he
says it is too much to expect of him \ it would make him feel
such a muff; besides, te \iasia!\ \,\x&&."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 353
Miss Tott bore us off : how happy she was, how sweetly she
sympathised with our supposed feelings ! Kind creature ! I
was terribly ashamed of Valentine that day, for, after we had
been some time in the Palace, looking about us below, we went
up into a gallery where there were various stalls heaped with
articles for sala Some were set forth as bankrupt stock, some
as having been saved from a fire, and all had sensational labels
on them : " Observe the price" " Dreadful sacrifice " " Must be
cleared out this day " " Given away for 45. 9 Jd.," &c., &c.
I saw Valentine buying something of the smart young sales-
woman ; but it was a " people's day," and there was a crowd, so
Miss Tott and I moved on ; but, after a time, I thought that
somehow we seemed always to be taking a knot of people after
us, and it was not till we had got downstairs again, and were
among the tropical plants, that I saw, to my dismay, as Miss
Tott left Valentine's arm, and sailed mildly on in front, a good-
sized placard, which was pinned on her back, and bore this
inscription : " No reasonable offer refused." I darted forward ;
it was some minutes before I could get the placard off without
attracting her attention, but I managed to do this at last, and to
hide it.
Valentine was perfectly grave, and I tried to get away, but the
people about us still insisted on being amused. I observed that
some, when they passed, turned round to laugh, and others
moved on behind us and noticed our behaviour.
In the meantime I did not dare to snub Valentine, because
Miss Tott was so close to us ; I could not even have the pleasure
of telling him that this was a stale joke, and I had heard of its
being perpetrated before. However, he very soon received a
snubbing that none of us at all expected, and Miss Tott never
understood more of it than she saw before her eyes.
A respectable elderly man, in a coachman's livery, came up,
and accosted him with great civility.
" Excuse me, sir, but young ladies didn't ought to be made
conspicuous in public places."
The Oubit had nothing to say for himself.
" I have been following you some time," continued this speci-
man of nature's gentlemen, " to let you know, sir, that when the
girl you bought that placard of saw what you ^ere &a\x\%^k
'L
354 0FF raB SKELLIGS.
it, she snatched up another and pinned it on your own coat-tails ;
and there it is now, sir. Good morning."
There it was sure enough, and we unpinned it, amid the
laughter of the bystanders, some people, looking down from the
gallery, greeting Valentine at the same time with an ironical
cheer :
" This handsome article, very little damaged, going for three
and sixpence. Worth double the money."
After this I declined to take any more excursions with Valen-
tine; but he came daily to see me, and was very full of fun,
evidently feeling also that ease about his future prospects that
one often sees in the younger and favourite members of a large
family.
To Giles his welfare was evidently an object of the deepest
solicitude. Why these two brothers concentrated so much of
their affection on each other, nearly to the exclusion of some who
were equally related to them, I did not understand ; but I had
long seen it plainly. Liz and Lou were nothing to Giles.
Sister was nothing to Valentine in comparison with the feeling
of each for his brother.
They had set their hearts, as I found from Valentine, on
always living near each other. Giles had consented to expatriate
himself for Valentine's sake ; he had enough to live on any-
where, but Valentine was without patrimony, and, as he easily
made me perceive, there could be no opening so favourable for
him as to have land to cultivate and sheep to feed, with his
brother at hand to advise and help him.
I did not believe that I could ever accept Valentine, and I
told him so almost every day ; but he was quite imperturbable,
made the best of it, and generally replied with great composure,
that time would show. At the same time he did not fail to
point out to me how tiresome it would be, and how completely
it would put out both him and Giles, if I failed them at the
last minute.
" How could that be ?" I once asked.
Why, Giles meant to take him out, and settle him first, with
his wife, and then come home and get a wife for himself.
" Dear me ! you seem to have made a great many arrangements. n
u Yes ; and you see Ww \i\Xta ixm.t\&?Q would be in marrying
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 355
a girl whom I did not thoroughly know, and who would be ill,
perhaps, at sea through half the voyage, and be frightened. I
should be so dull, too, when I was left there with her, and
Giles was gone. We should have no recollections in common.
Besides, I love you, I tell you ! Don't I say so every day 1 "
" Yes. Well, I hardly know which of you is the oddest of
the two ! And so your brother wants me to agree to all this ? "
" Yes, he told me to lay it well before you, that we might be
sure you understood about my having nothing here ; and he said
I should be a lucky fellow if I secured you."
" And he expects that you will? "
" Well," said Valentine, "if you come to that, why shouldn't II"
Here, of course, we both laughed.
" You see, D.," he continued, " there are two reasons why it's
almost sure to come right ; I want you, and nobody else does."
This was quite true ; but it did not diminish the oddness of
the whole thing. St. George seemed instinctively to feel that
the Oubit wanted elevating, wanted deeper feeling, wanted
tenacity of purpose, and he thought he must get these from me,
and from marriage and manly cares. From many things that
Valentine said I observed that Giles thought he was sure to put
his neck under the yoke of matrimony as soon as he possibly
could ; he therefore wished him to do it wisely, attach himself
to a prudent person, who would amuse him first, and guide him
afterwards.
Of course, I did not like this idea ; I could not help feeling a
pang at the notion of his making a convenience of ma There
was still a great deal about him that I found attractive ; I could
have been docile to almost any wish of his but this, that I should
learn to love a man whom I was to govern. I could not bear
him to treat me with courtesy or deference, because I considered
that he could have no real feeling of what was due to woman-
hood. I liked Valentine's open raillery and boyish brusquerie
far better, and though he and I constantly sparred and argued
when we were alone together, I treated him with consideration
on those rare occasions when his brother was present, not only
because he was more civil then, but because I felt it to be
his due.
But I liked Giles so much that I could uolt^t \o\ &&$&.
356 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
to disapprove of him. He had a smile that was worth watching
for, it was so sunny and tender, such a strange contrast to the
grave cast of his features, the steady manliness of his demeanour,
and the somewhat " masterful " way in which he worked and
ruled; but this same smile was quite consistent with utter
ignoring of other people's feelings. I had come across his path,
stood near to him for a moment, and when he found it out, he
had pushed me somewhat roughly away. Still he meant to he
both just and kind ; there was even something elaborate in the
way in which he set forth the Oubit's good qualities, and he
evidently spoke highly of me to him.
When some affections which we would almost give our lives
to keep warm and fresh grow cold in spite of cherishing, what a
perversity of nature it seems that others can thrive, and live, and
even grow, when they have nothing to feed upon, and every
reason to fade and die !
I had never loved Tom so much as during that strange summer
and autumn. He never took any notice of me, but I knew very
well that he often thought of me. As for St. George, I was
almost sure that, besides taking Tom away from me, he had got
a hold on him, and attracted his regard for himself. I felt that
his influence on the whole must be exercised with the best inten-
tions, and the power that I knew he had over this much-loved
brother made him more important to me. And now there was
the Oubit very young certainly, but remarkably handsome,
frank almost to a fault, absolutely, as he always told me, devoted
to me, and desiring nothing so much as to spend his life with
me. I liked him very much, but I could not become enthusiastic
about him ; my affection for him did not grow, and I was
ashamed to feel sometimes that he almost bored me.
Well, but the visit came to an end suddenly, and I straightway
missed his pleasant company. Mr. Mortimer had a stroke of
illness; the brothers were summoned home. St. George gave
up his contemplated voyage, and he and Valentine both hurried
to the old man's side.
I often look back on the year which followed, just as I do to
the years passed at school, without dwelling on particular days,
but as one uneventful march of slow development.
Anne had an immense opVaioii oi m^ &ss^y&ss& in the wood-
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 357
engraving line, and .had confided to Mr. Brandon her belief that
I should soon have large sums to spend in the district. He had
accordingly suggested one or two things which he thought it
would be desirable to do, and as soon as this money began to
come in I let her spend it for me.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
" Herkcn this conseil for thy sickerness :
Upon thy glade" day have in thy tninde
The unaware woe of harm that com'th behind." Chaucer.
The year came to an end. Valentine had not failed to remind
me of it, and had written more than once of his hope that he
should come up to London and have my answer in person. But
he did not come, and he did not write.
I was surprised ; but on the fifth day after the time when I
had thought to be asked for my decisive answer, I saw the
announcement of Mr. Mortimer's death in the " Times."
Valentine, the last time he had written, had mentioned that
his father was ailing. Dear, beautiful, good old man ! he had
spent a happy life, and he died a most peaceful death.
When I wrote to condole with Valentine, I did not ask any
questions as to the future plans of the family ; but he told me
of his own accord all that I cared to know.
Giles, he said, had left written instructions with him that,
under all circumstances, the house and establishment were to
be kept up till his return : everything was to go on as usual.
He also told me, with his own beautiful frankness, that one of
the last things his father had said to him had, in a certain way,
concerned me. The old man had told him that he was still very
young to engage himself in marriage, and he wished he would
yet wait a few months longer.
He conveyed to me the impression that Mr. Mortimer had not
left much property behind him ; and in a succeeding letter he
told me plainly that his father, less prudent for himself than for
his stepson, had got involved in some mining fcTgrosotaNtax^ s&*
358 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
that when the debts were paid it was thought there would be
nothing left for his children.
Mrs. Henfrey had a handsome jointure. He would have
nothing; and Liz and Lou would be dependent on Giles,
though the latter, with her little portion of a thousand
pounds, was to be married to Captain Walker as soon as
Giles returned.
Valentine was an affectionate fellow ; but I observed that he
spoke of his brother as likely to feel Mr. Mortimer's death more
than any of them ; and I thought this probable, for the old man
was very fond and very proud of him : he loved him with the
peculiar partiality of amiable old age.
Anne and I went for a few weeks to Hastings during the
spring that followed. I had hoped that my uncle would
take me on board the " Curlew " that year, but no invitation
came, and shortly after our return I was made aware of the
reason.
" Madam," said Mrs. Brand, writing to me for the first time,
" Master sends his respects to you, and I was to tell you that
Mr. Graham has married that young woman after all. Master
is, so to speak, heart-broken about it, and doesn't seem to enjoy
his meals nor his pipe at all. Dear ma'am, don't take on more
than you can help ; she was always an impudent hussy, and we
knew it must come to this at last. But Master had made him-
self quite a slave to Mr. Graham, to keep it off as long as he
could.
" Master says he shouldn't have minded her being a barmaid,
no more than nothing at all, if she could have brought him a
good character; and he would have taken her on board, and
made the best of her ; for, said he to me, * If a young man who
has not led a good life is willing to marry, that is a bad fellow
who would prevent him, let the girl be who she will.' But
bless you, ma'am, he cannot demean himself to notice Mrs. Tom
Graham.
" The Master cannot seem to settle at all without Mr. Graham,
so he never says a word about the marriage to him ; and when
he chooses to come on board and cruise about a bit, he does ;
but he has taken a small bouse at Southampton for his wife.
u Mr. Graham has often mfcuWoiuA ^o\ to Tx^\&s5s^\atel^
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 359
and last Tuesday week he said to me, ' If you ever write to my
sister, Mrs. Brand, send my love to her. 1
" So no more at present, from your humble servant,
"Mercy Brand."
It is remarkable on what very slight hints, and even on what
unexpected silences, a strong impression can be formed ! I knew
that this had been long impending; but how I had become
possessed of the knowledge, even before going to Wigfield, I
cannot say. I had been determined not to acknowledge it even
to myself, for it seemed to have no ground to stand upon, and
certainly I had nothing to quote for it I might be wrong, and,
therefore, silence was my best course with regard to it.
For this trouble I could find no remedy but patience and
work. My heart went into mourning for this one brother of
mine. It seemed so certain that he would deteriorate under such
influence, and, as he would not write, he was already lost to me.
Some months before I first came on board the " Curlew," he
had first met with the woman who was to cast her dark shadow
over his future life. He was weak and could not resist, and yet
he was obstinate and would not give others a chance of saving
him by keeping him out of her way.
I felt Tom's utter loss very keenly, but I struggled against
sorrow as well as I could, and I had Valentine's letters to help
me, for Valentine was improving fast, and now, as was his due,
my heart began to turn to him with affectionate dependence ; he
had made himself important to me; he was taking pains to fit
himself for the important duties of life, and he let me take to
myself the comfort of thinking that I was doing him good, that
the motives I set before him were not without their effect, and
that, under my influence, he was growing more manly, more
steady, and more serious.
St. George did not reach England till the June after Mr. Mor-
timer's death, and I no sooner saw him and Valentine together
than I became aware how much dearer Valentine was than he,
how coolly I could now look on the bad taste he had betrayed
in his conduct to me, and how secure I could now feel in the
easy frankness, the growing affection, and the steady imnrove-
ment of the Oubit.
360 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
I still admired St. George's unselfishness, his "benevolence,
and high-minded generosity ; hut I hegan to feel that he was
not suited for the gentle companionship of daily life. He loved
and cared for Valentine with an absorbing affection that he did
not now attempt to conceal from me : he seemed to have trans-
ferred to him all the regard that he had hitherto bestowed on
his father, but he took very little notice of me, and, if I had not
been expressly assured by Valentine that he was very anxious
for our marriage, I should have supposed that he disliked the
notion of it, for he only came to see me twice, though the two
brothers stayed in London a fortnight.
I enjoyed that fortnight I was fast reconciling myself to the
notion of spending my life with Valentine, and I liked to listen
to his plans, in which, of course, I was always supposed to play
a conspicuous part.
Giles had bought a fine tract of land, with one house on it ;
they were to build another, and each brother was to occupy ona
It was such a fine climate neither too hot, nor too cold
such streams for fishing, and a fine sea-board and soil such
timber, such shells to be picked up, such ferns to be gathered,
that gradually, as I listened to the enthusiastic voice (which, by
the by, was no longer cracked), I began to grow enthusiastic in my
turn, and consider how delightful it would be to begin a new life in
a new country a useful, free, active life, with at least one person
to whose happiness I should be of consequence, and among others
whom I had worked for and helped to reclaim from barbarism.
So Valentine and Giles went away again the latter having
set plans on foot, in the courts and alleys where Anne visited,
which were to result in the sending out of about forty people
men, women, and children. How hard he worked ! vigorous
hand and comprehensive brain both brought to bear on the plans
he was maturing. He came to see me, as I said, twice the
first time he stayed only a few minutes; the second time he
stayed two hours, and spent them in giving me instructions and
advice, that I might be able to go on with what he had begun.
" It is most desirable," he observed, " that these very people
should be settled about our land, for they have a perfect enthu-
siasm for you, and would do anything in the world to serve and
please you."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 36 1
*
" No wonder," exclaimed Valentine, coming up and sparring
at him with clenched fists ; " hasn't she devoted her whole time
to them except the few hours spent in scribbling to me ! Oh,
why was I thrown among such excellent people ? Giles, you
villain, you've sailed all over the world on purpose to make me
feel small ; you and Dorothea have been the ruin of me ; I'm
crushed beneath the weight of your excellences ! Sir, you have
much to answer for ! If it wasn't for the presence of a lady, I
would knock you down. What business, indeed, have you to be
so much better than your neighbours ? "
" Come, none of this ! " said Giles, starting up and laughing ;
" if you want to knock me down, set to work and have done with
it ; show your prowess in this presence, which ought to inspirit
you."
" On second thoughts, Dorothea," said Valentine, turning to
me, "on second thoughts though I could easily do it, mind
you ! I shall forbear. ' Birds in their little nests agree, and 'tis
a shocking sight,' &c. No, Giles, this once I won't do it. It's
a weak point of his, D. dear, to think he's strong. You may
eit down again, Giles ; your brother has forgiven you."
They presently set off. I knew it would be two months before
I should see Valentine again ; but I was easy on this point he
never gave me the least cause to be otherwise. Early in August,
Mrs. Henfrey, Liz, and Valentine were going to the sea-side;
Anne and I were to visit the same place, and there I was to give
Valentine my final answer.
The time passed not unpleasantly. I earned a good deal of
money for the outfits of my people ; but I never improved in
wood-engraving beyond a certain point ; I attained great facility
and quickness, but was conscious myself that I should never
excel. I had illustrated several little books of small importance,
and never was in want of work ; therefore I did not care parti-
cularly to find that I was not to advance any further ; for if I
did go to New Zealand, I should not exercise the art there, and
in the meantime I could earn two guineas a week, and spend it
on my emigrants.
Mr. Brandon came up again to London in July ; I never saw
him, excepting in the district, whithex I now some,ivE&e& ^s&
with Anne. It was a great undertaking to &&$ ofi. sfc t&ssc^
362 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
people, and the weather was intensely hot, which added to his
fatigue. My chief business was with the clothing required, and
I often sat up till three o'clock in the morning, working through
the summer nights, with the windows open to admit the night
air, which was fresh and wholesome, compared with what we had
to breathe in the day.
Always cheerful, always kind to the people, reassuring the
women, instructing the men, I heard of Mr. Brandon day by day,
though I did not see him ; and I heard from Valentine, sometimes
every week, sometimes oftener.
One day he sent me a little hamper of plants by the railway.
I unpacked them myself, as Anne was out, and set them one by
one on my table. Afterwards I noticed that the pots were
wrapped in paper that had been written upon. Old exercises I
thought the writing looked like; it was clear and round and
very distinct The flowers were more attractive than these
papers, and I do not think my eye was drawn to the writing
again for two days, when, as I sat quietly engraving, these words
were clearly seen : " Tell you what I have been about, my lad!
Don't flatter yourself ; I shall do no such thing. A man who
cannot mind his own business is not to be trusted with the
king's. Besides, you might treat my letters as you do Miss "
Here a hiatus.
How queer of Valentine, I thought, to use old letters to wrap
his pots in. And I felt rather pained to think that perhaps he
laid my letters about in the same way.
I took off this bit of paper, destroyed it, glanced at another
pot, and these solemn words met my eyes : " It is not possible
truly to believe that He gave life and yet not to love the Giver ;
it is not possible to human nature to love without trying to
please the object of the love. And how can you talk with con-
tempt of small beginnings and worthless attempts ? If God does
not despise ' the day of small things/ you must not despise it
either."
It made the blood rush to my face to think that Anne, and
the servants, and Mrs. Bolton, and her pupils, might all probably
have read this letter. I began to suspect who alone could have
written thus to Valentine, and when I turned the pot to the
other side, the writing was too ia\\^ &rx Vst *. cw^a ^ksb! ta
OFF THE SKELLIGS, 363
be mistaken. " I have paid your bills, and, you young scape-
grace, don't leave this about, for I should feel humiliated if any
living soul saw that I demeaned myself to the pitch of caring so
much about you. Why can't you burn your letters instead of
throwing them about the floors, and wiping your razors on
them?"
That was all ; the paper was torn away, and I saw no signa-
ture. But Valentine had also sent me some seeds of mignonette ;
they, as I remembered, were twisted in written paper, in the
same clear hand. I took them, turned them upside down, that
I might not read the writing, and proceeded to empty them into
a glass; but fate was too cunning for me. The name was signed
cornerwise, where I could not fail to see it: "Your loving
brother, G. B."
I felt exceedingly vexed. This, then, was a letter addressed
to Valentine by Giles, and containing a particular request, which
he had not attended to. It alluded to a habit of his which
made me blush, and wonder what he did with my letters. Was
he likely to correspond with any other Miss beside myself ? I
thought not ; then, in all probability, the letters that Giles had
picked up were my letters.
I did not like to question Valentine about this, but it had a
sensible effect on my mind. I wrote more cautiously and I
believe that till August came, and my people were shipped off,
and Anne and I, both looking very pale after long residence in
London, had reached the pretty little bay where we were to spend
our holidays, I had never forgotten the ill-omened piece of paper
for an hour.
A pretty little cottage had been taken for us by Mrs. Henfrey.
It was near their own lodgings, and was covered with China roses
and passion-flower. Valentine met us at the railway, and
showed such simple and natural delight that I was touched.
Who was I, indeed, that he should care so long for one who had
given so little in return ?
When I had changed my dress he took me to his sister, and
I drank tea with her and Liz, Valentine being in such high
spirits, and so openly complimentary, that I saw he was in no
doubt as to my accepting him.
He was, indeed, a fine fellow ; his co\x$a. \A. \fc& \sx& *a&.
364 OFF THE SKELUGS.
though he stooped a little, he betrayed no other sign of weak
health. He had all his father's beauty of feature ; the brown
whiskers that he had prophesied of were come. And as lie sat
opposite to me in his sea-side costume, I could not help looking
at him and admiring him.
" Valentine looks well, my dear," observed Mrs. Henfrey.
" And is well," said Liz.
" Good action," Valentine added, " warranted to go quietly in
harness, no vice rising twenty-two next grass."
Mrs. Henfrey laughed, and made some remark about his going
in harness.
" Why, yes," said Valentine ; " the sooner I make up my mind
to it the better. Look at Walker; Lou takes away all his
money, and only allows him a shilling a day for his little
pleasures."
"Excepting what he spends in turnpikes," observed Mrs.
Henfrey ; " she pays that"
" If I were Captain Walker," I remarked, " I should not allow
that. I should choose to be master in my own house."
" Hear her ! " cried Valentine. " Well, if I ever have a wife,"
he continued, with affected modesty and confusion, " as there is
nothing I desire so much as to please you, I shall endeavour to
be master in my own house."
It was a glorious evening, and the quiet sea was sending up
crisp little wavelets among the roundest of pebbles and the
cleanest of sand. Valentine took me out for a walk, and I felt
all the ecstasy that the clear sky, and wooded cliffs, and sunny
sea can impart, when one has long been pent up in a city, work-
ing hard and thinking much.
Those were very pleasant days. We rambled about, pleased
with each other, but not talking in lover-like fashion. I always
instinctively checked such talk, and he followed my lead. At
last, when we had been together a week, he one day said, as we
were walking home with baskets full of shells and seaweed,
" Well, D. dearest, have you made up your mind ? "
" About what ? " I asked.
" Why, whether you'll have me. I've waited very patiently.' 9
" So you have."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 365
"And Giles says we really ought to sail next Christmas.
Come, say yes, and have done with it."
" Very well ; I do say yes."
" You do ! " he exclaimed, throwing up his cap and catching
it again : " then I say hurra ! "
We walked together in silence for half a mile, and then he
said
" Why have you hesitated so long, dear ? "
"Because I did not think we cared enough for each other."
" And you think so still 1 "
" Yes ; but the time is so near that now it does not so much
signify."
" Very true," he answered, as quietly as possible ; " it's not
likely, you know, that in such a little while I should see any
one I like better. And if I don't love you enough, it's certain
that I love you better than anybody else."
I think that was all that passed between me and this amiable,
sweet-tempered fellow. I felt that what he had said of himself
was also true of me. And I began to see that when we were
once married we had every likelihood of happiness. I should
care ten times more for him when I had made it my duty and
the occupation of my life to do so. And he would have few
people to compare with me out in New Zealand. I should be
useful and even necessary to him, and I fully believed that
lie would never regret the wife he had chosen.
So we walked home quietly together. He showed that he
was in good spirits by singing a little now and then ; but he
did not kiss me, or even take my hand. When I came in, Mrs.
Henfrey asked me to dine with her, and I agreed, and went up-
stairs to take off my bonnet. In the meantime Valentine had
told his sisters what had passed, and when I came down they
both kissed and congratulated me.
And so this matter was settled. I certainly had expected it
to be accomplished with more dignity ; but when the question
was asked I was ready with my answer. I had taken plenty of
time to consider, and at last had made up my mind ; not that I
greatly loved Valentine, but that I could not give up the only
being who greatly loved me.
After this I was very cheerful and contented. "EWsfj 1v*
366 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
seemed to justify me to myself, for Valentine was in delightful
spirits, pleased with me and everything I did; and never so
happy as when we were rambling about together, or sitting talk-
ing under the deep shadows of the crags.
There was one morning that made, as I supposed at the time,
no special impression on me. I had on a hat and feather, his
first present to me for my personal adornment, excepting the
ring. We sat together in a little cove, sorting some shells that
we had collected, as we had frequently done before, and a little
vessel sailed across the blue water, rocking prettily and gleaming
white in the sunshine. The tide had gone out and laid bare the
rocks covered with seaweed, and we saw a man stepping lightly
among them, and sometimes standing still and gazing out to sea.
" Whoever that fellow is," said Valentine, " he's not as happy
as I am."
I do not very often dream, but what I have dreamed once I
dream again. Many, many times since have I dreamt of that
scene : the overhanging crags, the delicate little heaps of shells,
the fluttering of the feathers in my hat, and the solitary figure,
concerning which Valentine was pleased to remark, " he is not
as happy as I am."
We had passed a pleasant week since our engagement. Some-
times we read together, and sometimes we practised. Valentine's
voice was, as I have said before, no longer cracked ; but it was
not at all a good one, it was poor, thin, and of small compass,
yet it was his great ambition to sing. And I spent many an
hour practising his songs with him, and artfully accompanying
them, humouring him in the tune and covering his defects as
well as I could.
"Well," said Valentine, rising reluctantly, "I suppose I
ought to go and meet old Giles at the station."
I had known that Giles was coming that morning, but it had
slipped out of my mind, and I now said that if he would not be
away more than an hour I would sit there and wait for him.
The little station was just a quarter of a mile off ; he had only
to climb the winding path in the cliff, and cross a strip of wild
heath, and there it was.
I sat there alone and thanked God for my present happiness.
The recreation and pleasure oi tiaa ^ovvxitr$ and the sea were
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 367
Very great ; the comfort of the defined future was also great ;
and though I felt none of the jealousies, the absorbing interest,
nor the restless excitement that I had heard ascribed to lovers,
I was happy, and knew that I was likely to be more so.
A man who began so gradually and reasonably to care for,
and deliberately preferred, without idolising me, was likely, as I
now began to feel, to preserve his liking when I had shown him
that I deserved it by returning it. There was no over-estima-
tion to begin with, and sink to its natural level ; there was no
enthusiasm to cool, and nothing to be found out. We were
both thoroughly well acquainted with one another, and now that
I liked him well, I began to see that we were better suited to
each other than most people. Only, I said to myself, if I might
have had a master! But I checked that thought, it was so
mean ; and I confess that the notion of being the ruling spirit
was not distasteful, if only it could be concealed from others !
To have my own way, and yet to have other people think that
my husband ruled, would, I thought, be not disagreeable, and I
resolved that it should be so. I had already been able to make
Valentine take my views of certain little matters and act upon
them, thinking they were his own. I resolved to do it again.
Voices close at hand Valentine's and another. Before I had
time to change my attitude they turned the corner of the cliffs
and entered the tiny cove.
"There he is," said Valentine; and Giles, lifting his hat,
stooped to give me his hand as I sat, and smiled affectionately.
They sat down, Valentine beside me, Giles in front of us. I
was conscious directly of a great change for the better in the
manner of the latter. He was now quite friendly to me, and
having come down to make holiday, he had left business behind
him, and forgotten for the time his coppers and baths, his
lectures, emigrants, and schools, and was enjoying the scene
about him with tranquil contentment.
Several peaceful days followed. Liz and Mrs. Henfrey loved
to sit in a bathing machine reading a novel. Giles liked sailing
and fishing. And Valentine and I liked to ramble about, and
sit talking under the cliffs. Sometimes in the evening Valentine
sang, and Giles groaned over his false notes, and shivered with
the torture his mistakes inflicted on him.
368 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" What a pity you will sing, my dear ! " said Mrs. Henfrey
one night. " Here's all this good accompanying lost upon you;
whereas, if Dorothea played for Giles to sing to, it would be a
treat to hear them."
This very unflattering speech for once put Valentine out of
temper, and he marched into the little garden. I sat before the
piano for a few minutes while Mrs. Henfrey continued her remarks
to Giles, but he did not offer to sing nor I to play, and I
presently went out into the moonlight, and soothed Valentine
with a little harmless flattery to the effect that I liked playing
for him better than for any one else, and that he would soon
sing better if he took pains.
Meanwhile, even as I talked to him, I seemed to become con-
scious of a slight change, which I appeared to myself then to
have acted on before, though unconsciously. It seemed to have
become my province to please him, no longer his to please me,
and as I continued to excuse Mrs. Henfrey's speech, and show
that I had always liked to play for him, I felt that several times
before I had had the same kind of thing to do, and I said to
myself that surely I need not trouble myself with the fear of
ruling, for I had met with a master after all.
We went in again ; but Valentine had not quite recovered his
temper, and I by various little arts and slight attentions gradu-
ally restored it, till Giles helped me by proposing to read aloud,
for which I was grateful, seeing that it was done on my behalf.
His voice, almost as fine in reading as in singing, was not
without a soothing effect on Valentine ; besides, the reading gave
him space for reflection, and when it was over he talked as usual,
till Anne Molton came to fetch me home, and he walked with me,
when he burst out with, " I hate to be compared to Giles \ the
comparison is so damaging to me."
I said nothing, and he presently added " It's astonishing to
me that you can't see how much he is above me."
" I do see it. I see that he is above us both, but not in
cveiy thing."
" In what one thing am I equal to him ? "
" In temper. You have quite as good a temper as he has. I
think rather a better one."
" Thank you, Dorothea. Anything else ? "
OFF THE SKELLIG& 369
u Yes ; you are taller."
"Pooh."
" And handsomer."
" D., you will soon put me in good temper."
" And more fond of ladies' society."
"Yes."
" Particularly of mine."
"That I am."
" WeTl play and sing that song together to-morrow, when they
are ail out."
"So we will, Dorothea. Oh, what a nice little thing you
are!"
So we did, taking care to see the remainder of the party safe
out of the house. Hen, when even I was weary of the practising,
we came out, and wandered along the quiet shore towards a tiny
cove, in which we often sat. We went on till we reached a promon-
tory, from which the tide never receded, and climbed up a steep
path till we stood on the top of it. It was crowned with a wood,
which we passed through, and approached our cove from above,
crossing the narrow promontory and looking down. On the soft,
white sand below a man was lying full length, leaning on his
elbow, and gazing out to sea.
" It's Giles," said Valentine. " Well, if we are not to have the
place to ourselves, I would rather he shared it with us than that
any one else did."
Giles had been so pleasant and brother-like to me lately, that
I no longer felt ill at ease in his company, and stood looking on
while Valentine set down the lunch-basket, and threw little
pebbles towards him. They did not reach him. He was either
asleep or in a deep fit of abstraction, and we slowly wound down
the steep path towards him, nearly reaching him before he looked
up ; which he did at last with great gravity ; and as he betrayed
no surprise, and did not accost us, we took no notice of him,
but set the basket down close to him, and spread the cloth, as if
he had not been there, leaving him by slow degrees to rouse him-
self from his deep abstraction.
" When Mr. Brandon comes home," I said to Valentine, " he
shall have some of these white-heart cherries."
" Comes home ! " he asked. " From wheura V 1
37 O OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" From wherever you have been this last half-hour."
He darted a look at me, and an absolute flush mounted over
his brow. " What is a man's home ! " he asked, to my surprise.
" Is it the place where his thoughts dwell ? "
"I did not mean to raise such a question, and I cannot
answer it ; so I shall change my remark to Valentine, and say
when Mr. Brandon comes down he shall have some of these
white-heart cherries."
" Was it your pleasure to suppose that I had reached some
height and was exulting there % "
" Yes ; and looking down at the prospect," I replied, vexed
at the evident despondency and almost shame of his manner,
and wishing to convey to him, for the first time, some hint that
I was grateful to him for his goodness to Valentine, in which I
was to be the sharer. "You were looking down from some
New Zealand eminence, perhaps, and you saw a pretty house,
round the balconies of which I hear that you have planted some
vines and some passion-flowers and some cluster roses."
"You are mistaken," he answered hastily; "I was down,
not up very low down indeed grovelling."
" Very well," I replied ; " ' He that is down need fear no
fall.' "
" Hear, hear," said Valentine. " D., my dear, after the pains
you have taken to cure me of quoting, I am pleased to find that
you are taking to it yourself. Now, here we are. ' Rolls, ham,
sandwiches, buns, cherries, and ginger-beer.' Dorothea, serve
out the rations. Take a cabbage-leaf, settler, by way of a plate ;
we are rehearsing our parts to play life in New Zealand, Giles."
" In that case you had better dispense with the tablecloth."
" Anything else ? "
" Yes, the hat and feather."
" No, Giles," said Valentine with great seriousness ; " I
always mean her to have a hat and feather, and to be got up
just as she is now : my happiness will greatly depend on that"
He broke into a laugh as he spoke, and went on, " When you
have a wife, I know you will be exceedingly particular about
her dress."
" On the contrary, I mean to have one who will look well in
anything."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 37 1
" The old story, always looking for impossibilities. Liz heard
from Jane Wilson yesterday."
" What has that to do with it ? " said Mr. Brandon, thrown
off his guard.
" You know best. They are coming. Dorothea, have you a
spare cabbage-leaf for Giles to fan himself with, he looks hot 1
Jane's a fine creature. Don't laugh, D. ; how can you be so
unfeeling? I say, Giles, she's a fine creature."
" And these are fine cherries," said Mr. Brandon.
" Well, if there is one thing that I thoroughly detest it is a
dogged insensibility to the charms of womankind."
I could not help saying, " I do not observe the insensibility."
On the contrary, I did observe a curious kind of embarrass-
ment and a mounting flush over the healthy forehead, and I
thought to myself, "Jane Wilson's preference is rewarded at
last."
I wondered whether she would understand him, or at all enter
into the needs of a nature so peculiar, so strong, and so capable,
as he had. shown me, of a deep and almost romantic attachment.
Sometimes people are conscious of other people's eyes, though
they are looking away from them. Mr. Brandon was conscious
of mine then, I suppose, for he brought himself to glance at me,
and I thought he had the air of a man who felt that he was
found out.
He was quietly putting his hand into the dry white sand, and
sifting it through his fingers in search of the minute shells that
it contained, and at the same time humming over the words of a
little French song then in fashion.
"There's nothing more odd to my mind than to hear you
sing," observed Valentine ; " because your voice is so different
from your feelings."
"You and Miss Graham are exceedingly personal in your
remarks this morning," replied Giles ; " and you neither of you
know anything about my feelings."
And so saying he went on to the end of the little song, at first
with a joyous defiant air that suited weU with the words, and at
last with a touch of tenderness that made the tears start into my
eyes.
" D./' said Valentine, " what makes you VkBk. &\ Gc&fck ^ftffcw
372 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
that pretty kind of wistful interest f I suppose you are cogitat-
ing about him and the coming fair one."
This remark was naturally rather embarrassing to Giles, and I
stammered out some foolish excuse, saying that I did not know
I had stared at him.
But I had been cogitating about him and the coming fair one,
and so there was no denying it.
" I should like to hear Jane Wilson and Dorothea having a
feminine quarrel," said Valentine mischievously ; " it would be
so pretty to hear that deep voice, mellow and manly, answered
by this sweet little childish pipe so small and clear. Perhaps,
Giles, we may hear them quarrel some day."
" You never will," I said. " I shall take a great interest in her."
Mr. Brandon replied with some hesitation, " Do ; she is a good
girl, and as to her voice, some people consider it agreeable."
" Cautious," observed Valentine.
" Come, have done with this," said Giles, with sudden vehe-
mence.
" To be sure. I'll talk of something else. Do you know, D.,
that last night late, Giles and I took a stroll, and I made a few
observations in reply to a lecture that he gave me ? "
" He told me what you had said respecting my temper, heigbt
and features, Miss Graham. You need not look so much dis-
concerted ; I felt flattered."
" I am glad of it."
" He is my safety-valve," observed Valentine ; c such a stun-
ning fellow in general to hold his tongue and march on apparently
listening, but often thinking of something else. Well, D., last
night I was launching out a little about you, and he being very
silent, I naturally thought he was attending."
" Poor Mr. Brandon ! "
" And I was warming with my subject, and in the full tide
of eloquence, when he heaved up a deep sigh and stopped short,
looking out to sea. Being thus brought to, I stopped also and
looked out, saying, ' What's the matter, old fellow 1 ' and he
replied, after a pause, * I've not eaten a single lobster since I've
been at this stupid place.' Only imagine, while I was enlarging
on the sweets of domestic life and the happy future, he was
thinking about eating ! "
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 373
M
I'm sorry, Mr. Brandon, that you should have so much to
suffer on my account."
" It's what he'll do himself when he is in my circumstances,"
said Valentine.
St. George, on hearing this, elevated his eyebrows with an air
of astonishment and almost scorn. He seemed about to say
something, but thought better of it, and laughed instead, not
by any means with a flattering air, but as if, well as he knew
Valentine, the remark had quite taken him by surprise.
" Well 1 " said Valentine.
" Is it a good or a bad thing for a man to have no thoughts
or feelings too strong or too deep to be expressed ? "
" Giles, you never used to put these metaphysical questions
to a fellow. Why, a good thing I should say, when one has
somebody to talk to."
This slight hint that Valentine's feelings could be neither
deep nor strong hurt me, however, chiefly, I believe, because I
supposed it to be correct, and I could not help saying that I had
often heard it remarked how much the affections grew by being
exercised. " Besides," I went on, conscious all the time that I
was arguing against my own secret convictions, " people are not
all gifted with equal powers of expression, and if two people feel
equally, one may be able eloquently to describe while the other
is mute, not from more feeling, but from fewer words."
He seemed inclined to put the question by, but Valentine
would not let him, and went on till he said, " I never had a
thought or image in my mind that I could not translate into
language, if I chose ; but sensations and passions are different :
words lie below them or fly over their heads. I cannot convey
them unless they are slight and feeble, and that is lucky for me,
for I have no desire to do so."
374 0FF THK SKELLIGS
CHAPTER XXIX
In' a few days the Wilsons arrived, and a great boy with them,
who was in everybody's way.
I soon saw that Jane was still a good deal interested in Mr.
Brandon, and that her mother no longer cared to oppose her. I
am sure he was not aware of her preference, but he was aware
of our observation ; he knew his sisters watched him when in
her company, and I believed that if he could be with her when
she was away from her people and from his he would be glad.
So one morning when Valentine and Giles had gone out fishing,
and had left word with Liz and me to be at our favourite cove
at one o'clock with luncheon, when they would meet us and
walk home with us, I went to Liz at eleven o'clock, and took
with me an attractive paper, setting forth that there was to be
a cottage flower-show that day in a village close by ; and when
I saw she longed to go to it for she was infatuated about such
things I said I could easily get some one else to go to the cove
with me, and she gladly let me. So I sent on the basket by a girl
whom we employed, ran to the bathing-machines and begged
Jane Wilson to take a walk with me, anything that made it
in the least likely she would see Mr. Brandon she was sure to
accept, and we set off together, both of us very well pleased.
Jane was a sweet girl, not clever, but affectionate and simple.
We were very happy that morning, and in the course of conver-
sation I let it appear that we were to have the two brothers to
luncheon. In due time their boat was beached. I saw a man
with bare feet spring out, take Valentine on his back and carry
him beyond the wave.
" That's Mr. Brandon ! " exclaimed Jane.
" Is it ? " I said, for I had been looking at Valentine ; " he
did it for a joke then, no doubt The sailor generally takes
Valentine on shore, for it would not be prudent in him to wet
his feet."
Valentine soon began to plod slowly up towards us, and Giles
occupied himself some time pulling the oars and sails about,
putting on his shoes, &c, &tl& \sXk\Ti \& Xtaa t&sjcu Then turn-
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 375
ing and seeing Valentine far before him, he set off to follow ;
and it sent a pang to my heart to see the different way in which
they proceeded. Valentine, walking rather slowly, and with a
somewhat plodding foot, was following the course of a fresh-
water stream which was between us and him, and which he
would have to track up to a bridge near the clif But Giles, to
shorten the distance, sprang two or three times over this stream,
and so came straight toward us.
" I wish Valentine was strong enough to do that," I said.
"One never sees such a graceful figure anywhere as Mr.
Brandon's," said Jane. " Look, there he goes again."
His grace was nothing to me, but his vigour made me feel a
little anxious : the difference was so marked between the two
brothers.
Hie came up the knoll on which we sat, before Valentine
reached us. He greeted Jane Wilson with all politeness, and
then he gave me a significant look, and came and seated himself
beside me, where Valentine, of course, was intended to be.
When Valentine appeared, having crossed the bridge, he did
not look best pleased : he was not often put out, but when he
was he always showed it. Giles did not rise, and went on talk-
ing, spreading out the viands and helping us to them in spite of
two or three looks that I gave him, and which he returned with
a certain air of amused defiance.
Jane would, no doubt, have liked to sit where I did ; but as
Valentine would not talk at all, she could talk to Giles, and did
for a while, till he too fell into silence, leaving us to talk
together, and beginning to hum a few notes of some little
German song.
" Let us have a quartette," said Valentine, speaking for the
first time.
Anything that enabled him to exercise his voice was always
welcome to him ; and though I was very angry with Giles for
being so tiresome, I could not possibly help laughing, and was
obliged to turn my face to him to hide it from the other two.
They had both of them a little way of singing out of tune,
and I felt that now Giles was going to be punished for his
behaviour, and that it served him right.
"I wish Mr. Brandon would sing a solo *Y&s\&aA" sxa&^XA
376 OFF THE SKELLIGa
humbly. " I am often afraid that I sing out of tune, and I
don't like to exhibit my defects. "
This was so true, and so modestly said, that I could not bear
the thought of her being made to sing. " You will sing," I said
to him. " Pray do."
" Of course," he answered.
Jane named a song that she wished for, and while he sang it
I thought I had never heard anything so sweet in my life ; and
as it went on I sat as forward as I could, because an inconvenient
tear stole down Jane Wilson's cheek and dropped upon her
glove.
I was so sorry I had brought her that I could almost have
cried too, and I felt comforted, to be sure, that Valentine did
not see her ; for he was pulling some bits of fern out of the rock
behind us, and comparing them with other bits that he had in a
pocket note-book.
" That's not green spleenwort, old fellow," said Mr. Brandon,
the instant he had finished his song ; " you need not think it"
And they began to argue together about the ferns in the neigh-
bourhood. Valentine and I had found a great many varieties,
as we supposed ; but when they were spread out in the note-
book before Jane's more learned eyes, some of them were con-
demned as young specimens of the more common sorts, and
several as mere duplicates in different stages of growth.
I was very much disappointed when Jane said that none of it
was the "viride."
" But there is some here," said Giles ; " and if you really care
to see it I can easily show it, for it is not a hundred yards from
this spot."
He sprang up, and I half mechanically rose, when he held out
his hand to me.
" Val," he said, " if you and Jane will go over the bridge, 111
bring Miss Graham round to the knoll. It's a much shorter
way : we shall be there before you."
" Very well," said Valentine ; and Giles, who had not left go
of my hand, put it on his arm, and we set off at a brisk pace in
what seemed the wrong direction. We crossed over the sandy
knoll and came to the brink of the stream again. He let go my
hand, and vaulted ovei it, iek&ui^ a. ^Vs^srcy -^Idfih. was in
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 377
the field on the other side. " The spleenwort is on this bank,"
he said as he returned, " and a little lower down." He turned
the wheelbarrow upside down in the middle of the stream, and
setting his foot on it to keep it steady, invited me to step on it,
which I did, and crossed easily. Then he returned it to the
spot where he had found it, and we went on a few paces, when
we found the delicate weed, and saw Valentine and Jane giving
the lunch-basket to our girl messenger, who had come for it.
Giles laughing, and, waving his hand to them, signalled to
Valentine to go over the bridge and take our usual path.
Valentine seemed undecided, but Giles got me to take his arm
again, and set forth at a good pace with me over the sandy
knolls and hollows. " "We shall be there long before them," he
repeated ; " he must go over the bridge, for he can't cross up
here." Then we climbed a hill, and as we came down to the
knoll where we were to wait, he indulged in a series of what, in
talking of his sister Emily's laugh, he had called " ecstatic little
chuckles."
" I am afraid Valentine would go up there after us," I said,
u and expect to find a bridge."
" Then he would have to come back again," said Giles ; " for
he would never think of the wheelbarrow, and if he did he
could not jump over to it ; besides, it is such a slight affair that
Jane's foot would break in the bottom of it."
" You are very tiresome to-day ; I hardly know you ! Valen-
tine won't like my not walking with him."
" Then he shouldn't have done it ! "
" He had nothing at all to do with it," I answered, not pre-
tending to misunderstand him; "it was entirely my doing.
Why should you expect me to debar myself from the society of
my friends?" I continued, but I could not help laughing.
"Jane "Wilson does not care for me a single straw," he said as
we sat down on the knolL " How should she ? we have been
familiarly acquainted with one another all our lives. " No," he
repeated, "not a single straw."
" Oh, doesn't she ? " I thought ; but I did not say a word, and
this was lucky, for he added quite deliberately, " And as for me,
I do assure you that I would rather be hanged to-morrow than
marry her ! "
378 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" No one asks you to marry her ! " I exclaimed.
" Yes, you are all always asking me to marry her ! It's no
use. There they are, a mile off, skirting the cliff. Even at this
distance, I can see how gloriously sulky Val is."
" No wonder, poor fellow ! he has got to go all round the pro-
montory on the beach, and we have just crossed the top."
" You will not tell him what I have been saying ? "
" No," I answered ; and I sat demurely beside him, thinking
how cross Valentine would be at my not having managed better.
" You made me do it, you know," he continued.
Giles had a very keen sense of the comical side of things, and
when he saw Jane Wilson plunging through the shingle, and
Valentine disconsolately peering up for us in all directions but
the right one, he said, " But you won't let this sort of thing
happen again, will you ? " then he uttered another short laugh,
and finished it up with such a heart-sick sigh, that I turned
quite surprised to look at him.
" What is the matter ? " I exclaimed involuntarily.
" Nothing's the matter that I know of," he answered ; ex-
cepting," and then he actually laughed again, "excepting
that I'm so miserable."
" Oh ! " I answered almost in dismay ; " I hope you're not in
earnest."
" I can't help sighing now and then," he replied ; " I suppose
it has become a habit with me." Then looking up, and observing
my surprise and anxiety, he said, "It's quite true, I assure you;
you cannot imagine how perfectly miserable I am."
I continued to look at him, and really did not know what
to say.
" And it makes me so restless that I don't know what to do
with myself," he went on.
" I hope as you have told me this you will tell me something
more," I presently said.
" I did not mean to tell you : I am only goaded into doing it
now on account of Jane."
" But is it quite out of the question that I might be able to
help in some way, if I knew something more ? "
" There's not the least use," he answered, " in my telling any
one anything."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 379
" Are you so very sure that I can do nothing at all ? "
" No," he said. " It worries me to have them all constantly
teasing me about Jane. If that could be prevented, I should be
grateful."
" I will try ; and I am not going to ask any question, only
going to make a remark."
He sighed as he sat by me plucking the little plants of eye-
bright, and looking at their tiny flowers. " Nothing that you
can say will be of any avail," he answered. " Valentine is not
to know of this ? "
11 No," I replied.
" Nor any one else ? "
" Nor any one else ; but I am going to make my remark, and
it does not call for any answer."
" Well," he answered ; "lam listening."
" I wish to say that I think it quite improbable quite out of
all nature that it should fall to the lot of one man to be twice
the victim of a deep, faithful, and perfectly hopeless love."
He made me no answer, and after a long pause I went on :
" "Women can often give some help in these cases ; would it not
be possible to get this lady, whoever she is, to come and stay
here ? or could not we go and stay where she is ? I hope this is
not quite out of your reach."
I said this because I had a fear that it might be one parti-
cular person who I felt sure was out of his reach.
" Yes, she is," he answered, with a faltering in his voice, and
a degree of humility that made me hate for the moment the
woman I had in my thoughts. " She is far out of my reach,
and far above me too ; but she is so inexpressibly sweet that
I do really think sometimes I shall break my heart about
her."
"Oh, then," I thought to myself, "I am certainly wrong;
however infatuated he may be, he never could apply such words
as inexpressibly sweet to that proud, cold maypole ! "
I sat quite still beside him, considering in my mind the lovely
sister of this said maypole, and wondering whether first his
ambition and then his love might have brought him to her feet,
and I thought she was not so utterly out of his reach ; but while
I was considering whether I could venture to aSlufo to \tfs^Vfc
380 OFF THE SKELLIG9.
looked up and said, with a catch in his voice, " It's very unfor-
tunate for me, isn't it t " Then he sprang up suddenly and said,
" There ! they will be here in a quarter of an hour. Do you
mind my leaving you and going over the cliffs ? "
" Oh, yes, indeed I do, because the cows come over the cliffs
sometimes, and they have such long horns I don't like them.
Do stay till Valentine comes. I don't want to say another
word about this, now or ever, excepting that I think only
marriage can make any attachment truly hopeless."
He answered in a very low voice, " I agree with you."
I was deeply sorry then. I considered that there was indeed
nothing more to be said, and as he leaned his chin upon his
hand and gazed out seaward, evidently thinking of this ill-starred
love, his whole face was so changed, so softened, and so full
of passionate feeling, that the little remains of resentment and
reserve I had felt towards him all melted away, and I began to
talk to him of various things that I thought ought to give him
comfort and pleasure, and supply a meaning to his life. He had
rescued so many families, I reminded him, from poverty and
wretchedness, there was hardly any part of the world where
somebody was not doing well whom he had taken there.
" Yes," he answered, after a pause ; " do you know I have
taken out more than two hundred people ? I was counting them
up the other day."
So on that hint I spoke, and administered a little of that
harmless flattery which an unhappy man generally finds pleasant ;
and as he sat and listened with his chin in his hand he began to
look rather less moody, till at last, as the absentees approached,
he lifted up his head, and went down with me to meet them.
Valentine was exceedingly out of temper ; I had never seen him
anything like so cross ; and Jane Wilson was so determinedly
silent that I saw she was displeased. With great difficulty I
managed to put Valentine in better humour, and induce Jane
to answer a few remarks about the spleenwort. But the walk
dragged on wearily, till, turning one of the cliffs, we met a whole
posse of people whom we knew, and got mingled among them.
Jane was carried on to sail with them, Giles climbed the cliffs and
made off, and Valentine and I, being left alone, became cheerful
and good-humoured direc&y.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 381
I felt quite uncomfortable about Giles till I saw him again,
which I did the next day, looking just as usual.
I came through the house and beheld him and Valentine
seated on a garden border, each in a kitchen chair, the back legs
whereof were deeply embedded in the mould.
That garden was a sight to be seen ! It was full of somewhat
straggling and neglected rose-trees, and on their account Giles
had hired the house, giving an extra half-guinea a week on con-
sideration that he should be allowed to bud and graft all these
trees, as well as some miserable plums and cherry trees, as much
as he liked.
It was supposed to be a fine thing to know how to bud and
graft trees if one was going to live in a new country, and I can
only say I hope those trees liked it.
Valentine was sitting before a large rose-bush which was
absolutely covered with "buds;" he was arrayed in a large
white gardener's apron, and was now going to begin to graft.
He had a wash-tub half full of clay beside him, and Giles was
kneading some of it in his shapely hands.
" How tiresome of you, D. dear, to be so late ! " said Valen-
tine ; " when you know I have to go and bathe almost directly."
Giles turned away to his plum-tree with a lump of clay in his
palm. I saw at once that he was in a very different humour
from that of the day before. As I came in I had heard him whist-
ling the air of the minuet in Samson ; and I now saw that in a
certain way he was enjoying himself. His coat and waistcoat
were off, and having made at different times nineteen clay pud-
dings which he called grafts, all over the miserable mossy little
tree, he was now finishing a twentieth.
He had got so accustomed to the aspect of the tree that when
Valentine brought me up to it, and I gave way to irresistible
laughter, he looked at first quite surprised.
" What is the matter with it % " he exclaimed, stepping up to
observe it from the same point of view ; "I really flattered my-
self that it looked like business."
" Oh," I answered, " it is such a wretched sickly little object,
and the puddings are so large ; and, besides, all this bass and
tape and ribbon that you've tied them up with look so forlorn
fluttering about."
382 OFF THE SKELUGS.
" I was obliged to tie them tip," he answered, laughing in his
turn, " because some of them tumbled down. Yes, I see it has
rather a mangy effect ! "
The ground underneath was strewed with lumps that looked
a little like swallows' nests, and almost all its leaves had been
picked off.
"Every tree, D. dear, in the garden over there will look
exactly like this when he has done them," said Valentine with
suave gravity ; " but now I must go. Sit down in this chair
till I come back," he brought up one of the kitchen chairs,
" don't stir. Giles must not be left without any protection," he
added in a loud whisper, and off he set.
I was perfectly silent for at least ten minutes; then Giles
said, " This is all your doing."
" Yes, I know ; and I am very penitent."
Something comic seemed to occur to him, for he parted the
little twigs that he might see me better, and looking me in the
face said deliberately, "It's not Miss Tott;" then he let the
leafy twigs go together again, went on with his work, and I
heard him laughing. I could hardly believe it; and yet if
he was not telliug me that it was not Miss Tott who was
the object of tUs hopeless love, I could not tell what he
meant.
" Not Miss Tott ! " I repeated in amazement.
" Yes, I feel that you must have been speculating about this,
and it really is very hard upon you, for you can make no inves-
tigation, because, you know, you said of your own accord that
you should never allude to the subject again either to me or to
any one else, * now or at any future time,' were your words,
I think."
" Yes," I said, for I understood his hint ; " and I never will,
never ! "
" Thank you ; and so I thought you might be glad to know
that it was not Miss Tott."
" Dear Mr. Brandon, how can you be so ridiculous ! "
" For you looked so wistfully at me just now that "
" I beg your pardon ; I promise you not to do it again."
I heard that same heart-sick sigh ; but he presently said in
his usual tone, " I liate to \^ c,oxffi^stfc\a&u "Haw Miss Tott
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 383
would have enjoyed to hear my confession of yesterday ! But
even now I'm not crushed ! "
" What could have put it into your head to think I should
suppose her to have anything to do with it 1 We never did
anything but laugh at her, poor thing."
" No ; I was far from thinking of love then ; but, as I told you,
I was in London when I fell into this pit "
" You never did," I answered, very much confirmed in my fear
that the lovely sister of the maypole was his love. "Why
should we talk of this sorrowful matter any more 1 "
The Wilsons had chanced to mention a certain family that
very morning, and without any question on my part it had come
out that this lady was lately married.
" No," he answered ; " why, indeed ? And that reminds me
that Valentine has been taking upon himself to lecture me this
morning and yesterday. The airs that boy gives himself, now
he is engaged, are perfectly irresistible."
" That boy ! " I repeated rather indignantly.
" Yes," said St. Giles, laughing at the recollection of it. " He,
can't bear to hear me call you Miss Graham"
"It does seem rather formal, because you know I shall be
your sister soon."
" He asked me to call you D., as he does."
" And what did you say 1 "
" I said I wouldn't."
"You did?"
"Yes, I hate nicknames. By the by, you don't like my
Christian name ; it's because you don't like me."
" I shall continue to call you Mr. Brandon"
"But Valentine is very anxious that we 'should like each
other better,' that was how he phrased it," said Giles; "and
he made me promise to tell you so."
" I suppose we shall, then, for his sake" I answered, feeling
a little piqued. I felt my face cover itself with blushes, and
yet I managed to stammer out, as Giles was behind the tree, " I
hope indeed I am sure, that Valentine has never had the least
hint of what what may have caused me once to feel some
resentment."
" Of course not," said Giles earnestly -, and, to TK3 ^sfc &sr
384 0FF T^ SKELLIQS.
comfiture, coming forward and facing me. "How could yon
think so "
He retreated to his work when I turned my face away from
him. I thought, if we were ever to be friends, now was the
time ; and I said
" You have never told me that you were aware you had made
a mistake."
" But I am aware of it," he answered hastily ; " deeply, pain-
fully aware."
" That is quite enough to say," I answered ; " I shall feel
quite differently now. I shall be so much pleased, so thankful
to forget it."
" I thought yesterday that you had forgotten it," said Giles.
" No one who felt any resentment could have tried to comfort
me as you did."
" I did forget it. Do you think I have no feeling ? do you
think now that I have no regard for you at all 1 do you think
that no human sorrow touches me "
I tried to twinkle away two tears that had gathered under my
eyelids, but they would trickle down, and I was obliged to take
out my handkerchief to wipe them away.
" I will call you anything you like," said Giles, quite in his
ordinary tone. " I was only joking when I found fault with the
nickname. What can it matter to a fellow with such a weight
on his mind as I liave ? "
And then there came a pause, and it distressed me to hear a
sound uncommonly like a short sob behind the tree ; but in two
minutes Valentine was half way down the garden, and Giles had
met him and was making game of him because the sun had
caught his nose and made it red.
" That comes," said Giles, " of having a complexion like a
lady's."
" Look at D.," answered Valentine ; " the sea never tans her."
" No," I replied, " and I wish it would ; it would make me
look older."
"You are afraid we shall be a ridiculously young-looking
couple ! That is the fact," said Valentine.
" But I consider that I look quite grown-up now," was my
youthful answer.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 385
"You look seventeen, if you look a day," said Valentine.
And he continued in a reassuring tone, " You'll look older in
time." Thereupon he took me out for a walk, and told me with
great glee that he had overheard a group of people talking of me
as he was leaning out of the window and I passed with Anne
Molton. They said I had a figure like a sylph.
" Yes," I answered ; " I've often heard that before. I don't
care about it at alL"
" You ungrateful little thing," said Valentine ; " what would
you have ? "
" The reason you think me so little," I replied, " is because
you're so big. I'm nearly as tall as the majority of women."
" And they said," he continued, " that you had the sweetest
and most innocent face they had ever seen."
" I don't care about that either," I answered laughing ; " for
you would never have found it out unless these strangers had
put it into your head"
" Oh ! it signifies what I think then, does it ? Well, now,
what do you think of my appearance ? Am I handsome ? "
" Very handsome ! "
" Perhaps," he said, " you'U tell me you don't care about that
either."
" I shall, if you ask me ! But now let us be grave, and let
me tell you what I mean."
"All right," he answered; "but I don't believe you know
yourself what you mean."
"Yes, I do. I wish it had been my lot to have a more
womanly and mature air, so that people would have expected
more of me, and by treating me as if they did would have
helped me to be something more "
" Ah ! we have aspirations hang aspirations ! I never had
any, but I'm always the victim of other people's aspirations on
my account."
" Yes, but do have some now ! We both of us want dignity.
Aspire to manly dignity, will you? and take a more serious
view of things in general"
" You mean," said Valentine, exploding with laughter, " that
you've seen 'V. M.' cut on the bathing-machines"
" No, I haven't."
386 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" That is because you didn't look, then ! I've cut those
harmonious initials on every one of them. Now, if you'll pro-
mise solemnly never to talk to me in this way again, I on my
part promise that I won't
jl n
" Won't what, Valentine ? "
" Won't cut them on the pier."
He laughed with delight when he had said thus, for he sro
he had taken me in, and obliged me to laugh toa
CHAPTER XXX.
" Lose not thine own for want of asking for it : 'twill get thee no thanks." Fuller*
As the Wilsons continued to stay at our little sea-side retreat,
they gradually diminished our pleasure, and at last took almost all
of it away. They made acquaintances with several other families,
they invited friends of their own to stay with them, and intro-
duced them to us; so that we were now almost always in a
large company. Valentine liked this better than I did ; he "was
naturally more sociable, and now that we were engaged, and he
was sure of me, I did not wish that he should feel me to be any
burden, and would not be exacting, so I took care to press his
acceptance of every invitation that he seemed pleased with,
though sometimes Liz and Mrs. Henfrey would excuse them-
selves, and consequently I did not go. I reflected that he would
have little chance of this kind of pleasure in New Zealand ; yet,
though I knew he could easily do without it when the time came,
I resolved never to be the means of hastening it.
I thought afterwards that it was a pity I had been so anxious
to be obliging ; for it was evidently, then, his business, and more
according to the nature of things, that he should have been
anxious about obliging me ; and I have several times observed
that nobody thanks one for giving up what is clearly one's own,
not even the person for whom it is done; for he either thinks
it is all right, which is a pity, or he knows it is not all right,
and by accepting it lowers himself, or he does not think about
it, which is nearly as \oL
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 387
It was not Valentine's fault that I encouraged him to do
exactly as he pleased, or that he was already master of the situa-
tion ; and I cannot be angry with him now, when I reflect how
much pleasure he gave me often and long, and in the end more
than in the beginning.
I was only to stay a few days longer at the sea-side. "We had
agreed that we would be married late in January, and that
Anne Molton should sail before our wedding, with three young
women whom we had determined to befriend, and with the two
little darlings from Chartres. Their grandmother was dead, and
Giles had asked Valentine whether he would ask me if I should
like to have them with me. They had no provision, and if I
would take the trouble of them, he would undertake to. defray
the expense.
I agreed gladly. The little creatures were sent for, and came
down by train to our watering-place, three days before I left it,
with a stout bonne, Mr. Brandon went down to Southampton
to fetch them, and I did not see them till they were seated, one
on either side of him, on the lee side of a bathing-machine.
They did not remember me, but the elder recollected him, and
the little one was already charmed with him and his stories and
his songs. I saw that they would be a great charge, but Giles
was not to be refused anything, he had been so good to us.
I sat down near them that I might see what species of
creatures they were. They had not forgotten their English.
" I like this place," said the eldest. " I said to Marmotte that
I wanted to go across the sea again."
M Yes," said the little one ; " for now we can see some live
ships. At Chartres we only saw dead old things that can't sail
horses had to drag them."
In the meantime the French nurse sat all amazement at the
infatuation of the two young English bachelors, for Valentine was
almost as fond of children as St. George, and was softly whistling
and contemplating them with amiable curiosity. I was delighted,
for they were the freshest and simplest little creatures in the
world, and when Giles obligingly assured Valentine that they
would never give any trouble worth mentioning, and Valentine
said " Of course not," I did not say a word. I thought if there
was anything to be found out time would lercesk SX *& W *s\^
388 OFF THE SKELUG3.
was concerned ; and men are seldom able to estimate correctly
the amount of trouble that domestic matters give to women,
these two brothers being both very good examples of the fact
And now the day came when I was to return to London. It
was not thought proper that Valentine should escort me; I
therefore went up with Anne Molton. There was much to be
done : my outfit to get ready, and many things to be bought {01
future comfort.
I felt a sort of pang at leaving that sweet place ; it was to be
my last sojourn at an English village by the sea. This was like
taking leave of my country ; I should see little more of h\ but
remain with Anne in London till within a week of my wedding-
day ; then she was to take me down to Wigfield, for it had been
agreed that I should be married there. This would be the most
convenient plan, for Mrs. Henfrey and Liz could not come up to
London at that time of the year, and there was no need to con-
sider Tom's or my uncle's convenience, for neither intended to
be present. So I left everything to Mrs. Henfrey, and sue
arranged that Liz should be my one bridesmaid, and that Mi.
Brandon should give me away.
The whole party, including the children, escorted me and Anne
to the railway station, and the last words were spoken and the
last kisses given with much laughing and joking on both sides.
When I say words and kisses, I do not speak of any words but
such as all could hear ; Valentine and I had no private leave-
taking. He was particular in his directions respecting the
pattern of the dinner-service, which was left to me to choose,
and also respecting the fashion and material of my wedding-
gown ; but no nearer interests troubled us. The kisses also were
given by the ladies; Valentine did not offer one; indeed I
should not have accepted it if he had.
But he and I were becoming very much attached to each
other notwithstanding, and I pleased myself with thinking that
his style of affection was likely to grow and last. He was not
an intellectual young man, but he was clear-headed, and parti-
cularly reasonable. His affection for nue was of a reasonable
kind. " Why should I expect you to be faultless ? " he once
said ; "lam full of faults myself." And when I remarked one
day, as I still sometimes did, Vtoafc \ Vo^t& ^^ Tsall^ were
OFF THE SXELLIGS. 389
sufficiently attached to each other to be happy, he replied,
"Affection is a habit as well as an instinct; it is sure to
strengthen, do not be afraid of that ; and we shall soon have all
our interests in common. That is a very great thing. Besides,
I want to be my own master."
" And mine," I observed. " I think you have aspirations at
last, and they are in that direction."
" Perhaps so, dearest. Besides, you know, I always said I
would marry very young."
" But Prentice put that into your head."
" So he did, and good luck to him for it."
" You would never have thought of it but for him."
" I am not at all sure of that. I believe you would have put
it into my head if he hadn't Besides, what's the good of
haggling about it 9 "
I helped Anne Molton to make the whole of my wedding
outfit, which was the more ample because I knew that at the
Antipodes I should have little leisure for needlework, and few
shops to make purchases in. I also helped Anne with her own
outfit, and gave my three protegees a lesson daily in reading and
writing. I wanted them to be able to read their Bibles, and
write home to their friends when I took them far away from
those friends, and far away perhaps from all earthly instructors.
So very busy going about shopping ; so very busy packing
and choosing merchandise, so very busy learning the mysteries
of bread-making, crust-making, pudding-making, &c, &c, that I
was not conscious of a certain little fact till an ignorant servant-
maid pointed it out to me.
I was sitting in the parlour; Mrs. Bolton was out, as she
so often was, giving a lesson, a postman's knock came to t^e
door. I thought nothing of it ; the door was open, and Anne
Molton met the west-country servant-maid in the passage.
" Is that for Miss Graham % " Anne said.
" Ay, it's for she ; her don't get so many letters as her used
to do, do her ? "
I put down that letter before I read it, and smiled at myself
for the momentary pang I had felt What if he did write
somewhat seldomer % was he not as busy as myself, learning all
sorts of things that were likely to prove useful to u& ta& % &&&
39
OFF THE SKELLIGS.
paying hurried visits to numerous relatives and friends? What
if he did write rather seldomer ? had not I also written rather
seldomer myself? I opened the letter, the dear, kind, affec-
tionate letter, in which he alluded to his not writing so often,
and hoped I knew it was because ho was so busy and so much
hurried from place to place. It was a short letter, written late
in the evening, and more full of excuses than of news, as if I
wanted him to be always afraid of annoying me or of making
me uneasy ! I sat down at once and answered the letter. I
told him not to imagine that I was of an exacting turn ; that I
was satisfied in the possession of his affection, and did not want
him to rob himself of rest in order to assure me of its continu-
ance, a circumstance that I had never doubted
That was by far the most affectionate letter I had ever written
to him, and it did me good ; it made me feel so secure and 80
trustful I believe I had a kind of feeling that being such a
letter as it was, it was almost sure of an answer in a day or two,
if not even by return of post ; and I set to my work again, after
it was written, with a cheerful heart.
But an answer did not come; and when I had waited as
long as usual, and two or three days longer, I almost wished he
had not taken me so completely at my word. But ho was a
man, and I was a woman. I had taken great pains to make
him suppose that I was above, or devoid of, all the little weak-
nesses and exactions and anxieties of my sex. He was treating
me therefore as if I were a man taking me at my word, and
paying me the compliment to believe it ; for when the letter did
come (and it came at last) it was short, and contained no allusion
to what I had said, but contained a droll account of some cricket-
matches at which he had been present, and a compliment to me
on my good sense, which did not expect him to find time to
write as often when his hands were full as when he had nothing
to do.
Dear fellow ! I accepted the compliment, and tried to be
pleased with it, and to be sure that the shortness of his letter
was no more than I might reasonably expect.
But by Christmas I began to feel really uneasy at the few
letters I got and their shortness ; they were affectionate, but
restrained : and I longed fox tha time when we should meet, for
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 391
it was of no rise writing to inquire the reason of these changes,
it only did harm. Sometimes I felt almost afraid that so early
a marriage and entrance on the grave responsibilities of life was
beginning to be an alarming idea to him; but this notion I
would not allow myself to entertain long, for he was always
interested in my accounts of my purchases, and eloquent in his
descriptions of the pups he was bringing up to take with him,
and the guns he had bought, and fishing-tackle, and tools.
So I worked on till the last of my gowns was finished, till my
wedding-dress, veil, and wreath were packed up, till I had taken
my leave of the poor people, and of Miss Tott, the only acquaint-
ance I had in London, and till, having paid all my bills, I found
myself seated in the cab and driving with Anne Molton to the
railway station to proceed to Wigfield.
It wanted only a week to the day fixed for my wedding. I
had a letter from Mrs. Henfrey in my hand, in which she fixed
the train I was to come by. Valentine was in Derbyshire, but
he would be home in time to meet me; and she particularly
hoped I would take care of a box which she had ordered a man
to bring to me at the station; it must come in the carriage
with me, and I was to keep my eye on it, for it contained my
wedding-cake.
Droll that I should take my own cake down with me ! it
made me smile through my tears, for I was shedding a few
natural tears. At the station I was to part with Anne Molton
my dear, faithful, loving friend, Anne Molton.
We kissed each other when I was seated in the carriage, and
she wished me joy. I watched her as the train steamed rapidly
out of the station, and felt that I had parted with the only
friend I had in the world who was not of my future husband's
family, or utterly out of my reach and beyond my ken. In two
days she was to sail, and as we did not mean to do so till about
six weeks after our marriage, we hoped she would be in our new
home long enough before we reached it to make it orderly and
comfortable. To her were intrusted all our purchases, except
what I wanted for my own wearing. The pups, of course, were
too precious to sail under feminine superintendence; so was
Valentine's cart, and the strong little basket-carriage that he had
bought for my use.
392' OFF THE SKELLIG9.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when I reached
the well-remembered station, and looked out in a flush of excite-
ment that made me warm from head to foot.
I waited till I feared the train would be going on, then I pat
out my head, and when I said I was to stop at Wigfield, there
was a good deal of bad language used among the men, which
hurried me to the point of keeping my wonder at a distance. I
got out of the carriage, and being desired to look sharp, ran with
the guard, to identify my luggage, which they were hauling
about with furious haste ; and it was not till I saw it on the
pavement, and the train in motion, that this wonder at Valen-
tine's absence returned.
" Is the train before its time V* I asked.
" Quite contrary," was the gruff answer ; " it's a quarter of an
hour late."
I walked into the little waiting-room and sat down. At five
o'clock, it being dark, and Valentine not come for me, I ordered
a fly, and started by myself for the house. I was full of fear
that I must have mistaken the day, and hoped, if I had, they
would not suppose I had done it on purpose that I might be
with them sooner.
"We reached the house and stopped. It became evident to me
before I had crossed the hall that I was not expected ; and when
the thin old footman left me in the morning-room, I felt as shy
and as ashamed as if I had come unasked, and their neglect
in being unprepared was entirely my own fault.
A leisurely foot coming down the stairs and a very rapid one
directly after ! (Valentine's, I hoped.) The latter overtook the
former at their foot.
" Come hero, and not met ! " exclaimed Mr. Brandon. " Why,
what does the fellow mean by it ? "
" Fellow, Giles ! " said Mrs. Henfrey ; " how can you call
your own brother such a name ? "
There was nothing in the name, but there was in the tone.
" He wrote," proceeded Mrs. Henfrey, " and said he couldnt
come home to-day, and of course I supposed he had written to
her to the same effect ; ho said he should."
" Hang him ! " was the fraternal rejoinder ; " it's a disgrace to
OFF THE SKELLIGS. .393
my house that she should have waited at that hole of a station,
on such an occasion too ! "
" Well, well," said Mrs. Henfrey soothingly ; " and where have
they put the poor child, I wonder ? "
During this rapid colloquy I had just had time to advance to
the door, and I now presented myself blushingly, and said, " I am
here, Mrs. Henfrey." The words "my house" had accounted
to me for Mr. Brandon's unusual heat almost at the moment
when it astonished me. The sudden consciousness that I was
his guest did not make me feel any the more at home, and I
wondered that I had not remembered it before.
He cleared his rather irate face as quickly as he possibly could,
but was evidently vexed that I should have overheard the con-
versation, and began to ring for different servants and excite a
considerable bustle, with a view, as it appeared, to my speedy
accommodation in what he was pleased to consider a suitable
style for his brother's bride-elect
So I was shortly taken upstairs and ensconced in the very
best bedroom, with a crackling fire, and two large candles, and
some big glasses, together with other luxuries to which I had
become quite unaccustomed.
I was not seriously uncomfortable at Valentine's absence. He
had no doubt written to me, but the letter had not arrived in
time to stop me. Mr. Brandon had only entered the house an
hour before I did ; he had been away three days : therefore my first
reception was quite accounted for, and when I made my appear-
ance in the drawing-room ready dressed for dinner I felt contented
and easy, the more so as they all greeted me with kindness.
Two friends of Mr. Brandon's arrived to dine with us, and
during dinner there was plenty of conversation; but as time
wore on I felt less comfortable, because I had become aware
that Mr. Brandon, though he talked, laughed, stole a moment
now and then to cogitate, and during these intervals of thought
he had a puzzled and surprised air, which came over him many
times during the evening, and gathered strength every time it
occurred.
When two people are deeply interested in a third person, and
are thinking of this said third, they sometimes become conscious
of each other's thoughts.
394 0FF THE SKELLIGS.
I was perfectly certain that St George, like myself, was
thinking of Valentine, and considering why he had not re-
turned. We were both travelling on the same road the road
to Derby and our spirits passed and repassed each other on
the way.
Every one else was cheerful and gay. Mr. Brandon, despite
these thoughtful intervals, contrived to keep them so. I talked
as much as any one, but watched him, and soon found that he
was avoiding my eye. He frequently addressed me, or answered
my questions without looking at me. There was something
more to be disquieted at : he was aware, as well as myself, of this
community of thoughts, and was trying to prevent my reading
more of his. One of the strangers began to talk to me, and I
was obliged to turn away and listen. When I was released I
darted an anxious glance at him, and, thrown off his guard, he
involuntarily lifted his eyes. That peculiar change of countenance
instantly took place which often follows a consciousness of
detection. I had become possessed of something which he
wished to hide, and in spite of himself his face acknowledged
the fact.
" He will come by the nine o'clock train to-morrow morning
of course," said St. George, as we parted for the night.
Liz came up with me to my room, for we had been told that
a number of boxes, six or eight, had come for me, and had been
carried up to my room.
They were marked No. i, No. 2, &c, &c, and we got No. 1
opened, and found a letter in it from my uncle; a curious, formal
letter, setting forth that he wished me all happiness in the
married life, and that he had decided on giving me a trousseau
in addition to what he had settled on me Mr. Brandon, as I
might be aware, being my trustee. Mrs. Brand had been sent
by him to Paris to choose the trousseau, and he hoped I should
approve it.
There was a letter also from Mrs. Brand. She had evidently
taken great pleasure in her task, hoped I should like her taste,
and reminded me that the gowns were sure to fit, for she had
old ones of mine in her possession, and had taken them with
her as guides.
.Neither of us had e\ei aeciv sv\s3a. a. c^a&Vj oi ^wmdeur before.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 395
Nothing could be more ridiculous than most of these beautiful
dresses for a settler's wife in New Zealand; but we decided that
I should wear a fresh one every day while I stayed at Wigfield,
and we took one, a sort of morning robe of the softest white
cashmere, with a blue quilted satin petticoat, and in this it was
agreed that I should appear before Valentine the next morning
and completely take his breath away.
liz was in such perfectly good spirits, so secure that Valentine
would come by the nine o'clock train, that she imparted all her
tranquillity to me. But we both sat up so late, fascinated by
the fine clothes, that we overslept ourselves the next morning,
and were neither of us down to family prayers.
We chanced to meet on the stairs, and I said to her, " What
time do the letters come in ? "
" Not till the same train that brings Valentine," she answered ;
and she opened the dining-room door, and ushered me in with
an air.
We related the affair of the boxes.
u Isn't this beautiful ? " exclaimed Liz.
" Lovely," said Mrs. Henfrey ; " walk about a little, my dear,
that I may see it. Wonderful indeed are their works at Paris."
" Valentine will fall flat when he sees it ! " exclaimed Mr.
Brandon. " In fact, it's dangerous for any man to look at it ;
I must have a screen." Whereupon he took one down from
the chimney-piece, and held it between me and himself with
affected alarm.
" It's like a baby's robe, isn't it ? " he said.
"A baby's robe!" repeated Liz: "why, it's open in the
front."
" Yes, but it's white," observed Mrs. Henfrey ; " that's why
he thinks so, and it's all enriched with work and lace."
" But I think that fluffy thing she wore last night was prettier
still," continued St. George. " When she came floating in, she
looked like a delicate cloud with two dove's eyes in it."
The imaginary beauty again ! but oh how coldly he spoke ! and
as I drew near to him I could not help saying softly, " If I
ever-have a brother-in-law who admires my face "
41 Which will soon be the case," he interrupted
396 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" And he ever says to me the sort of thing yon have said just
now, I shall feel it."
" You shall feel it," he repeated, looking a little uncomfortable.
" Yes, I shall wish oh, so much ! that I might exchange
the whole of his admiration for a very little of his regard."
Neither of his sisters heard this speech. For the moment he
looked a little ashamed. " I'm going to give you a proof of my
regard shortly," he said, laughing. " I think you will consider
it a very delicate attention."
I saw that he alluded to some wedding present, and could not
help blushing as I answered, " Thank you. You are sure it is
not a proof merely of your generosity ? I have had plenty of
those already."
" In all discussions with you I am sure to get the worst of it,"
he answered, as if amused and pleased. " No, I think I may
say this is a proof of my regard. " Then " Valentine is sure
to be infatuated about this blue thing," he presently added.
" I wish him to like it. I always want him to be pleased."
" He shall be pleased," said St. George, " or we'll know the
reason why. What shall I do to him if he is not ? You may
command me to any extent" And as he spoke, turning his
face towards the window, I saw it change a littla The dog-cart
was coming back, and Valentine was not in it
He presently went into the hall and met the servant, who was
bringing in the letters on a tray, and a9 he rapidly sorted them
I saw that there was not one for me.
" Do you think he is ill ? " I whispered.
" I had not thought so," he answered ; " but it may be so.
Yes, it must be so."
We came back in silence, sat down to breakfast, and Mrs.
Henfrey poured out the coffee before she opened her letters.
Then she exclaimed, " Why, dear me, here is a letter from Mrs.
Wilson, and she says poor dear Valentine has caught such a
terribly bad cold that he is in bed with it, and cannot possibly
come home till Tuesday. On Tuesday she thinks he might come
with safety."
My heart leaped for joy : a bad cold, nothing worse, and liere
had I been dreading all sorts of things. I was quite angry for
the moment with Giles iot 'Wnii^ sX&c Waa. uneasy.
OFF THE SKEELIGS. 397
Mis. Henfrey let Giles take the letter from her, and as he
walked back to his place with it he read it through. Then he
went and stood on the rug while he read it again. After which
lie tore it in half, and flung it on the fire.
"Oh, you should not have burnt my letter," said Mrs.
Henfrey ; " perhaps Dorothea would like to have seen it"
I should have been pleased to see it, but was too glad of its
contents to blame any one just then.
" If you please, sir," said the thin footman, " I've been to the
station, and I can't hear any tidings of the box."
" What box ? " asked Mrs. Henfrey of Giles.
" A little box that Miss Graham left in the carriage, it seems ;
at least the authorities say that it is not among her luggage."
The cake-box ! I had left it behind me !
I made many apologies, mingled with blushes. Mrs. Henfrey
was terribly vexed, hoped it would be returned, had chosen the
ornaments herself, and continued to lament till Mr. Brandon
said, " Never mind ! When Val comes home there will be
time enough to order another ; and Miss Graham never ought to
have been troubled with it."
He spoke with an irritation that I had never seen him display
towards Mrs. Henfrey, and that I well knew was not directed
at her, but at Valentine. Poor fellow ! he could not help having
a bad cold ; but I thought his brother considered that hardly
any amount of sneezing and coughing ought to have kept him
away from his bride-elect.
" It's tiresome his being ill just now," said the moderate Mrs.
Henfrey.
" Ho had no business to catch cold," said Liz.
"Oh," replied Mr. Brandon, suddenly turning round and
taking his part, "his colds never last more than three days.
Hell be here, no doubt, on Tuesday as fresh as ever."
He ate his breakfast rather hastily, and said he was going
out on business, and might possibly not be home that night.
What was it that prompted me directly after breakfast to
steal away to the staircase window and watch the groom bringing
out his horse ? I hardly know, but I went next to look for the
" Bradshaw," which I found on the table in the hall, and had
398 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
taken in my hand just as he came hastily in with a plaid over
his arm.
"You wanted this, Mr. Brandon?" I said as, at sight of me,
ho started and stood irresolute.
He admitted the fact.
" The first train to Derhy that stops here starts, I see, at
10.20."
He looked quietly at me, and took the book in his hand,
" What are you thinking of ? " he said.
" I am thinking that you will not go to Derby."
" Why not ? "
" Unless you think Valentine very ill, in which case I believe
you would take me with you."
" I could not possibly do that," he answered hastily, and as
if the very idea was painful to him.
" Then you do not think Valentine very ill t "
" No, I believe he has a bad cold."
" Then why did you want to go to Derby ? n
His eye searched my face, he looked perplexed, and after a
long pause he said frankly, " I had a desire to go I can hardly
tell you why, it would disturb you."
"I know why. Oh, how can you allow yourself to have
such thoughts about your brother ! "
"If he is tolerably well," answered Giles evasively, " I could
perhaps bring him with me."
" Because he does not show a proper desire to come of his own
accord ? Is that your thought ? I have no such thought ; and
if I had "
" If you had ? "
" It would still be the last thing I should wish that you should
go and hasten him. I entirely trust him."
Again he looked at me. " You ought to know him far better
than I do," he said reflectively.
" Yes, I believe I do."
He put the plaid slowly from his arm, and still thought ; his
brow cleared visibly under the process, and at last he said, "I
submit then ; it shall be as you please."
I was truly glad to hear his horse sent back to the stables,
and his plaid returned \,o Y&& xoom*, *W\\^*& \&sss& 5^ad to find
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 399
that he was now really at his ease about Valentine. I had dis-
persed his fears whatever they were, and in so doing had made
myself more happy. We passed a pleasant day, and a quiet
Sunday followed. There were no visitors, and having nothing
to do I listened to Mrs. Henfrey's programme of the wedding
breakfast, and sometimes played with the children, and watched
the descent of a heavy fall of snow, which fell with wearying
persistence, kept us in the house, and debarred us from having
any callers.
On Monday there was no letter, but, as Mrs. Henfrey remarked,
Val had never been a good correspondent ; and no doubt did
not want to write when he was coming so soon.
St. George was apparently quite comfortable; he believed, I
suppose, that my view was the right one, and reflected that the
lover, though not ardent, was doubtless true.
He was really kind that day, and seemed willing to relieve
my suspense. He read aloud to us in the morning, and was full
of talk and argument. I was a good deal excited ; I could not
help it. I was just in that state when all the faculties being
more awake than usual, and all the senses more keen, it was
almost impossible for me to talk with men and women without
finding some application to myself in their words that they had
never intended. The children were my only safe companions.
I began to fancy that the servants (perhaps it was not all fancy)
looked at me furtively, with a kind of pitying wonder, and that
Mrs. Henfrey treated me with a distinction which was due to
Valentine's absence more than to my position; moreover, that
Mr. Brandon's cheerfulness was partly put on. He had not
been formerly in the habit of singing snatches of songs about
the house, or exciting a noise in the sitting-rooms with his dogs.
Neither had he been in the habit of speaking of Valentine with
the kind of regretful interest that he now bestowed upon him,
as if he was making up to the poor fellow in his own mind for
the suspicions that he had harboured respecting him.
He was a proud man. That any member of his family should
do a disgraceful or dishonourable thing would have touched him
to the quick ; and he little suspected that I, on my part, was
thinking it both disgraceful and dishonourable in him to have
harboured the suspicions that I knew had toim&TAfc&\&eeu
400 OFT .THE SKBLLIGS.
" There," said Mrs. Henfrey at dessert time, " I've got a nut
with two kernels. They used to say that with one such in each
hand you could tell your own fortune."
" Telling one's own fortune," observed Mr. Brandon, " would
be something like looking into a well."
" Why so ? " I inquired.
" If you look into a well you may see what you please : the
reflection of what you set the focus of your eyes to suit, the
clouds over your head, or the pebbles at the bottom, or your own
face in the surface of the water."
"Which is best to look at?" I said, for the sake of saying
something.
" Not the clouds, for you cannot bring them down ; nor the
pebbles, for you cannot get them up."
" There is nothing then to be looked at but one's own face ? "
" Our own faces, seen suddenly, will sometimes tell us thing3
concerning ourselves that we did not suspect before," he
answered.
"Did you ever see yours in a well, dear?" said Lis.
" Yes."
" I suppose it didn't tell you your fortune ? "
"Why do you suppose so? You are quite oracular this
evening."
" Well I only meant that at present you have no fortune to
telL You and I, you know, Giles, never have any affairs of
the heart, as people call them. Emily and Valentine began
early ; but then they always told J 1
" To be sure," answered St. George, who was quite capable of
enjoying this speech. " There is nothing that I dislike more
than those ridiculous reserves that obtain in some families.
Why shouldn't we all know all about one another ? " he continued,
audaciously appealing to me.
" Why not, indeed ? " I answered, laughing. " I am so glad
you are not a reserved family."
Mrs. Henfrey, during this little conversation, sat perfectly
still, and did not even look up, or betray the slightest interest ;
but when I went on, " If I ever have anything to tell, I shall
confide it to sister," she said, "Do, my dear," and gently
smiled.
OFF THE SKELLTGS. 401
CHAPTER XXXI.
"If you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn : no more was this knight
wearing by his honour, for he never had any." As You Like It.
Mr. Brandon went upstairs with us to the drawing-room. I
took the Bradshaw to make up my mind by what train to expect
Valentine to-morrow.
By the one which stopped at Wigfield at nine in the morning
I found that his sisters expected him to come, because in her
note Mrs. Wilson had said, " On Tuesday as early as possible."
Mr. Brandon said he thought he would be wiser if he did not
travel in the night, for there was another train at six, which
would bring him home to dinner.
I made up my mind to expect him early. I was certain that
he would come, or he would have written ; so I spent the even-
ing in tolerable comfort, and slept better than I had done since
my arrival
Tuesday morning I looked out. The snow was very deep,
but at six o'clock I had heard the whistle of the up train, and
knew that the line was not blocked ; and I rose and dressed,
and came down with a beating heart, but scarcely any appre-
hension.
Mr. Brandon's trap was sent for Valentine. Dear fellow ! I
longed to see him. I was told by every one that the snow
would make the train at least half an hour late, so I waited till
half-past nine, and again the trap returned without him.
I cannot describe the looks of wonder and alarm that passed
between Liz and Mrs. Henfrey ; but St. George still said that he
had felt that to travel in the night would be imprudent ; and
I observed as breakfast went on that he really was more at his
ease, and this again influenced me to hope for the best. I was
determined to hope and trust to the last and uttermost : once to
doubt Valentine was to give him up, and I clung to faith with
all my power.
"We went to the morning-room as usual Something, about
eleven o'clock, induced Liz to say, " I shall Just rai u^ sa&A. *sk.
402 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
St George about that." Whereupon Mrs. Henfrey said she had
better not, for Giles was so worried that morning.
"Why, I thought he seemed easy enough about Val this
morning," answered Liz ; " and last night he said to me that he
was sure Dorothea must know the Oubit far better than we did,
and he felt that if he really had been worse than he had said we
should have been told."
Mrs. Henfrey went away ; and Liz and I, left alone, talked
the matter over till we worked ourselves up to such a state of
anxiety that she declared she must go up to Giles and find out
why he was worried. " He always did think so badly of Valen-
tine's health," she said ; and this frightened me, and I told her
that he had intended going to Derby and I had prevented
him. On this she blamed my folly ; it was exactly what she
had longed to see him do. " But I must go and question him
for myself," she added ; " come with me ; " and we both set forth
to go to the top of the house to St. George's peculiar domain, a
sort of study or library that he had of his own.
We came to a door, and, finding it locked, Liz tapped. We
could hear a man's foot pacing about within. St. George came
to the door, but he only opened it an inch or two. " What do
you want, you plague 1 " he said, but not in the least ill-naturedly.
" This is the third time you have been up this morning."
"D. came up with me," said Liz; "we want to speak to
you."
On this he opened the door widely, and we stepped into a
narrow room nearly forty feet long and with a pointed roof. It
was flooded with sunshine, and had four dormer windows looking
over the open country, and showing a good way off the great
north road and the railway.
"Is it the evergreens?" he said; "because if it is, old
Wilkins may cut down every bush in the garden if you like ;
you always want a quantity of garnish."
" How impatient you are, Giles," said Liz, but with unusual
gentleness; "no, it's not the evergreens." And she detailed
Mrs. Henfrey's remark, and all our fears and fancies in conse-
quence.
" You make Miss Graham quite nervous," he answered ; "she
is not in the least so "by mtara "
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 403
" Tell us once for all," said Liz, " whether you think the Oubit
is worse than they said."
" I do not think so."
n And you do not think it would have been better if I had
let you go to Derby," I added ; " you do not regret having stayed
at home."
" No, I think you were right."
" Oh, very well," said Liz, as if now really satisfied ; " it was
silly of us, wasn't it, Dorothea, to frighten ourselves so ? Look !
is not this a curious room ? "
" It should have been put to rights if I had expected such a
visitor," said St. George, glancing at my beautiful array, for I
had dressed myself again in the Parisian robe, in the false hope
of seeing Valentine.
I looked about. There were many shelves of books ; there
were globes and queer-looking machines in this room ; there was
a turning-lathe in one corner, and there were charming easy-chairs,
and a reading lamp, and on the walls some pictures ; but my
heart, in spite of his assurances, was beating with apprehension,
for the whole floor was carpeted with a red Brussels carpet, which
was quite fresh, except in one long narrow path from end to end,
where the occupant was evidently in the habit of pacing up and
down. He began to do this again with restless and somewhat
rapid steps, and with his fingers in his waistcoat pockets ; and as I
noted his appearance, I could not feel content. His face, generally
devoid of ruddy tints, was now almost pale, and his eyes, rather
wide open, seemed to be troubled with flashes of an often-recur-
ring surprise.
" Well, Dorothea, shall wo come down again ? " says Liz.
I hesitated, and looked appealingly at him ; on which he said
to her, " Go down if you like, my dear ; but perhaps it would
amuse Miss Graham to stay and look at my pictures ; she never
saw my room before."
Liz ran off, and still he paced up and down, and I dared not
question him ; but as I moved to look at a portrait of a lady
whose likeness to him was very apparent, he came to my side.
" That's my mother," he said ; " you see her face is full of
prophecies, but none of them have come true. She is always
404 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
promising me peace and sometimes joy. Yon were frightened
when you came up."
" Yes."
" My own affairs are alone what make me so wretched. I told
you about a certain misfortune that had befallen me."
" Yes ; I am so grieved about it."
" So now you can be at rest. I assure you it was only about
myself that I was so horridly worried this morning. I am afraid
I am losing the mastery over myself altogether. As for my
temper it's all that ill-starred love."
" You talk of a man's love as if it was an awful and terrible
thing."
" So it is sometimes. The first woman that I loved always
made me feel that I was a fool. As for my last love, she has
sometimes said to me very cruel things. She has the power so
completely to make me take her view of what I am, that I often
feel as if I must be a sneak. No, not exactly that "
" And yet you actually said to me that she was inexpressibly
sweet."
" I don't think it could have been her doing ; it must have
been my own self-consciousness," he replied.
" I hate that woman," I answered deliberately; and I felt at the
moment almost as if it lightened, such flashes of anger seemed to
come darting out of my eyes. " Yes I do," I repeated, when he
looked at me with amazement ; " I know it's very wrong, but I
cannot help it, and I cannot feel any special desire to try."
Thereupon, when I found that surprise at this unexpected
outbreak of mine had so far dissipated his tragic feelings as
actually to make him smile, I was obliged to indulge in the
luxury of two or three tears, and when I had said something
apologetic, to which he made no answer, I moved forward to look
at another picture ; on which he presently said
" This is a curious room, is it not ? Mr. Mortimer had it done
up for me when I was of age. Dear old man ! it's extraordinary
how fond he was of me. He wanted to keep me with him."
" I do not see that it was extraordinary ; but let me look at
Valentine's mother again. What a dear face it is ! " Then as I
went nearer, and a sunbeam stealing over the picture made it
appear to smile on me, \ihera ^a& ^&&se&3 *. strange, almost an
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 405
awful thump at the door. For the moment it startled me, and
when it was repeated St. George said, " It's only Smokey ; he is
very frequent in his visits just now." He went to the door, and
the great beast came slinking in. " He knocks with his tail,"
said the master, partly addressing his vassal, and he sat down in
a low chair and let the creature put his paws on the arm of it
and look at him.
" You'd much better keep your distance," said Giles, address-
ing him exactly as if he had been a man; "it only makes
you more uneasy, you know. You shouldn't try to investigate
matters that you can't understand."
The dog, with his head laid along his master's shoulder,
snuffled and whined a little, and tried to get St. George to rise ;
and when he would not, coiled himself at his feet and looked up
at him.
"Surely," I exclaimed, "he does not know you are out of
spirits."
" He feels that I can't sleep at night, and that makes him
restless and uneasy. But if you bark again and howl as you
did last night you must be sent to the farm ; do you hear that,
my dog?"
Smokey gave his master two or three little submissive yaps.
"No, he does not know anything," continued his master;
"but he feels something. The greater life somehow affects his
lesser thought. I always respect his desire to investigate, but I
am sure he is sagacious enough not to be satisfied now. Surely
you must know of the common experience in families that their
dogs howl distressfully when there is death or even great danger
of it in their houses."
" Yes, I have frequently heard of that."
" Then this dog (and some, indeed many others) goes a step
beyond the common cur : he howls also when I am miserable.
Smokey ! "
Smokey sprang up with a sudden bound.
" There's a cat on the stable roof ! He thinks it his duty to
bark at all strange cats, but he does them no damage. There
now, I shall get rid of him for a while," he went on as the dog
rushed out of the room and dashed downstairs.
Then when I went back to look at ftie mo\tasi?fc ^\&sxxfc^
406 OFF THE SKELLIG&
managed to say, " I cannot help telling you that I think yon
are now far more easy and confident than I am about Valentine.
For after all, it certainly is strange that he does not either come
or write."
" The reason I feel easier is that I sent a telegram yesterday
night to Derby. And the night before," he continued after a
pause.
" Oh, what were the answers, and what induced you not to
tell me before ? "
" The first was, ' Have we received a true account of Valen-
tine's illness ? ' the answer was, ' Yes, he is up and much
better.' "
" Surely that is very reassuring ! And the second ? n
" The answer to the second was, ' I am coming.' "
" Yes, of course, dear fellow ! he is coming ; but what was
the question ? "
" The question will show that I was as you say surprised ; it
was, * Make me understand this ; ' but you had nothing to do
with it you never distrusted him for a moment, and I did only
for a tima"
" Then he will come this evening ? "
" Yes."
" How kind you have been ! You have taken care that in
his case ' the course of true love ' shall for once ' run smooth.' "
" Have I ? "
" You know you have."
" But I like to hear you say so."
" I do say so, and I say there is hardly anything I would not
do to set this trouble of yours right again."
He paced up and down once more ; then, as he reached the
place where I stood, he said, " No one knows of this ? "
" Of course not"
" No one ever shall ? "
" No, not even afterwards."
" Well, it is a shame to keep you up here, when no doubt
you have so much to do. Shall I take you downstairs ? "
I felt that I was dismissed, and said I could easily find my
way down, he need not come with me ; whereupon he opened
the door, and as I walked a"m.^ \\v^\^\m^\QO^S^\j^Ka^ me.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 407
I did not tell the two sisters about these telegrams. One had
clearly not been confided to me, because I had not supposed
Valentine to be worse than Mrs. Wilson had said. The other
disturbed me both question and answer, even though Valentine
had so distinctly said he was coming.
That was a restless day. I longed for six o'clock with
indescribable faintings of heart. liz could settle to nothing.
Mrs. Henfrey, who was having the whole of the family plate
duly cleaned for the great occasion, sometimes brought in some
precious old heirloom as shortly to be mine. " All the plate,"
she observed, " belongs either to Giles or Valentine, and it will
soon have to be divided ; but excepting a few spoons and forks,
there will be no difficulty about it even when there is no crest,
for I knew all our plate long before the late Mr. Brandon's was
mixed with it by Giles* mother." She went to the window
from time to time. " It's lucky I ordered the calves' feet on
Saturday," she observed, " and had the turkey boned."
" Don't tease Dorothea," said Liz kindly ; " she has a head-
ache."
" I like to hear it," was my reply ; it seemed so completely to
take for granted that the wedding-breakfast would be eaten on
the appointed day that it comforted me.
I was thankful when it was time to dress for dinner, and
passed through the dining-room on purpose to see whether a
chair and cover had been placed in token that Valentine was
expected.
I derived comfort from seeing these preparations and from
seeing the trap set forth again. Then I went up to my room to
dress ; and well knowing that I should be told the instant that
he came in, I sat there in bridal white till after I had heard the
whistle of the train and the returning wheels of the trap.
No one came to me. I felt sick and trembled slightly, but
had no inclination to shed tears. At length thinking I heard
whispering outside, I opened my door and saw Mrs. Henfrey,
Liz, and Mr. Brandon standing near it. The latter advanced,
and gravely offered his arm, saying with quiet steadiness of
manner, " Now, my dear, shall we go down to dinner ? "
Oh, those words, " my dear ! " what a world of jneaning there
was in them to my trembling heart \ Tte'j a^m^^ssx^^
408 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
tell me that he acknowledged my claim to be treated as one of
the family, but I felt that in uttering them he thought that
the chance of my entering it was but small.
I went down with him in silence, and trembling to a degree
that made it difficult to me to walk. Mrs. Henfrey and Iiz
were perfectly silent during dinner, and hardly ate anything.
Mr. Brandon and I, though we felt so much more keenly,
contrived to eat and to speak a little, for the sake of appearances
before the servants.
We went into the drawing-room as usual, and there, relieved
from restraint, Liz cried quietly in a corner, and Mrs. Henfrey
sighed incessantly. I was trembling with dread and excitement,
but could not sit a moment unoccupied, and went on with some
knitting with feverish restlessness.
The intense anxiety that was now beginning to overwhelm
me was shared, I was certain, by Giles, and by him only ; neither
of his sisters had admitted a single thought other than that
Valentine was ill.
I sat down to the piano, but soon found that my hands were
trembling too much to make playing possible. Then I went to
the nursery, and saw the children put to bed, and watched them
in their little beds till they fell asleep. After that I sat as
patiently as I could in the drawing-room till our usual bed-time,
and then Mrs. Henfrey and Liz, wearied both by their own
anxiety and my restlessness, rose to retire, and so did I.
But I could not sleep of course, and did not mean to undress.
I knew that about midnight there was a parliamentary train,
which stopped at G , a place about eight miles off, and I
resolved to sit up and wait till all hopes of Valentine's coming
by it were over.
I think about an hour may have passed, when, finding that
my watch had stopped, I stole down again to the drawing-room
to look at the clock there, and to my surprise found the lamps
alight, and St. George with his feet on the fender reading.
At sight of me he betrayed not the least surprise, but spoke
cheerfully and even smiled.
" You wished to sit up for the last train no doubt. Do you
know, I feel a strong conviction that he will come by it, and I
have sent to G to meet \t V
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 409
" Oh, thank you."
He spoke of the deep fall of snow ; then he gave me a book
which he said was interesting, and began to pace slowly up and
down the room ; but observing that I was quite unable to read,
he shortly came up to me, took the book out of my hand, and
leaning one elbow on the mantelpiece, began to read aloud out
of the bulgy Greek Testament that I remembered his possessing
on board the "Curlew." He read in a quiet, steady voice,
which, though very low and soft, was free from any expression
of emotion. It quieted my overwrought nerves, with the
only, the eternal history and hope, that then I was in a state to
listen to.
He closed it at last. " You are very patient," he said gently ;
"come to the window." His senses had been quicker than
mine, for when he drew aside the curtains I could hear the
oncoming of the distant train, which had already stopped at
G , and was rapidly speeding towards us.
The moon was nearly at the full, the ground was very deep
in snow, and the black trees looked awful in the stillness. We
saw the two red glaring eyes of the engine as it sped past, and
the black carriages behind. Oh, how earnestly I prayed then
that I might soon see the man I was waiting for ; but I have
lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
Looking out, not speaking a word, good or bad, my heart
beating and my hands trembling, I remained a long time, till,
conscious of a very faint sound some way off, I turned, and saw
Mr. Brandon, with his head thrown back and his nostrils dilated,
standing with one hand raised gazing towards the open drawing-
room door and listening.
There was a slight stir outside, and a faint howling from one
of the dogs ; then a distant door was softly opened, and footsteps
passed along the darkened hall.
My heart beat wildly. I hated its audible noise, because, for
all my listening, it confused the sounds below. There was a foot
on the stairs, a slow heavy foot, and something had seemed now
and then to strike against the banisters. At last one man only
entered the room, the groom, and he had a deal box in his
hands.
Neither of us spoke.
41 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" If you please, sir/' began the man in a tone of the humblest
apology, " Mr. Mortimer, sir he wasn't there, but I brought
this box on that they took up into the North by mistake; it
came down by the first train this morning.''
My wedding-cake come back again !
"You can set it down," said Mr. Brandon; and when the
man had slunk out of the room, I looked at him and he looked
at me.
What deadly fright and dread he saw in my face I cannot
tell, nor what pity troubled him for the forlorn creature standing
mute before him ; but his face changed and paled till even his
lips were white, and his large eyes became dilated, and his
whole frame shivered as if some frost-bitten blast was blowing
upon him.
I moved a little nearer, and said in a whisper, for my voice
was gone, " Do you think he is dead ? " I looked at him eagerly,
hungrily, for an answer, and he turned, away his face from me,
and muttered hoarsely, " No."
CHAPTER XXXIL
" The worst is not,
So long as we can say, This is the worst.'
King Lear.
I remember putting my hands to my eyes, and feeling a longing
desire to shed tears ; but I had no tears to shed, and was very
sick and cold.
I went back to the fire, which was burning dim, and sat
cowering over it as if it could supply the warmth that had died
out of me. Mr. Brandon did not speak or take any notice of
me ; he was writing a letter in urgent haste, and when he had
directed it, he dashed down the pen, came quickly to a sofa near
the fire, and drew from under it a riding-whip, scarf, and over-
coat.
All this was very quickly done, and his resolute face, height-
ened colour, and flaslxvn^ e^sa \^\^A \&a \& ^aa Taaasux^ of it
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 41 1
He had prepared beforehand for a journey in case this train did
not bring back Valentine ; now he was resolved to fetch him
back whether he would or not.
" You will now go to bed, I hope," he said to me.
I asked if he was going to Derby.
"Yes," he answered resolutely; "I must, there is not a
moment to be lost," he held out his hand and went on saying,
" and black as things look I hope you will try not to judge
Valentine till you hear something from me."
I summoned what force I had to say, " Your going will not
be for my good, unless you will first hear what I wish to say
about it."
He looked as if impatience almost mastered him, but he sat
down, and I could see that down to his very finger-ends his
nerves were thrilling with the longing desire to be o
" I know you are a just man "
He looked amazed at this beginning.
" So I hope you will be just to me."
" To you ? " he repeated faintly.
" Yes, to me. I have no friends : my brother would take no
notice, poor fellow, if the wedding-day should pass over and my
name remain as it is ; my father is so far away."
" I don't know what this means ; say something more."
" I say, then, that I know you are a loving brother ; but I
believe that above his chance of happiness, you desire that
Valentine should yield to duty and honour."
" You do me no more than justice."
" You are not going to Derby because you think he is dying,
for others would have informed us of that."
Mb answer.
u Nor ill, for then he would have written himself."
Still no answer.
" But you are going because you believe that his heart fails
him at the last moment, and he dare not come home because he
will not marry me. I know what you suffer in this prospect,
for I am your invited guest, come here on purpose, for your
sister's convenience, to be married to your brother, you yourself
giving me away. Do not think that I make light of that. If
I were a man I should feel it keenly. Bv&, "Mx. ^sxAsdl ^
412 OFF THE SKELLTGS.
said I knew you wore just), I appeal to you to be kind, and I
trust to your sense of duty and your honour not to sacrifice ma
Valentine has been cruel already to leave me so long in anxiety ;
but that would be nothing to your cruelty if you went to him
and represented all that you have done for him and all that he
owes to you, and the disgrace that would accrue to him, and the
pain to your pride and your affection if he should act unworthily,
and if between entreaties and commands you got him to return
with you and marry me against his will."
" If he wants such persuasion," muttered Giles between his
clenched teeth, " he is a villain whom but for his father's sake
I could disown. He must come he will, he shall ! "
" Not at your bidding."
" Yes, at my bidding. He must be infatuated now, but once
married to you, even at my instance, he would bless me ever
after."
" I say again, do not be cruel to me, do not sacrifice me to
him. Forget for awhile how much you care for Valentine, and
consider my happiness as if I were as dear to you as he is."
He seemed to feel this appeal in every fibre of his frame ; he
set his lips and the colour forsook his face, but it retained its
resolute expression, and he could not look me in the face, but
fixed his eyes on the wall above my head.
" Would it be sacrificing you," he said, with a faltering in his
voice that in a woman would have been the prelude to tears ;
" would it be sacrificing you to marry you to the man whom
you love 1 "
I could not answer. The man whom you love. Why did I
love and care for him ? only as the result of his love for me ;
but I could not look his brother in the face and tell him so.
It would have been too cruel. After all, his absence was
unaccounted for. While we were discussing his possible falsity,
he might be dying in some wayside inn, or buried deep in a
snow-drift, his last thoughts having been of me. Thinking of
this and it was well I did a sudden passion of tears came to
my relief, and I covered my face with my hands, and repented
of what I had said, and bemoaned my own unkindness from the
bottom of my heart I believe I reproached Giles for having
first suggested to me a k\&\. & to N^c&\as$% V&s&aux. I
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 413
repudiated any such doubt for myself, said I had altered my
mind, and implored him if he found Valentine living not to tell
him that I had ever entertained one.
Becoming more calm and he left me to recover myself with-
out a word of comfort from him I looked up. He was standing
still as a statue, just as I had seen him before, not directing his
eyes towards me, but raising them above my head.
Often, in after years, when I sat between him and Valentine,
I saw again the expression that then met my eyes for the first
time.
It was the reflection of some inward thought which he was
brooding over ; it must have been a good thought, for it irradiated
his face. It made me feel a sudden trust in him ; and as one
looks at the picture of a saint holding heavenly communion, or
an angel with a brow of more than mortal tenderness and calm, I
looked at him till, conscious of my silence, he brought down
his eyes to meet mine, and instantly the opening in the clouds
that had shown such a glimpse of brightness was closed, and
the face resumed its usual expression of keen intelligence and
penetration.
The drawing-room clock struck two, and he started forward
and snatched up his whip. It seemed as if he would leave the
room without speaking to me ; but he did not. He gave him-
self time to tell me shortly and quickly that now he must go ; that
whatever happened I should hear by telegraph everything that
he could tell me ; and then, as if reluctantly, he told me not to
be afraid, for he should remember my appeal.
So saying, and requesting that I would now go to bed and
take some rest, he left the room and went quickly downstairs.
I heard him unlock and open the back door, and then I heard
the swing of the stable door on its hinges. I went to my room,
and from thence I could see the carriage road. I looked out and
saw him leading his horse by a short cut through the deep snow
in the field. That done, he mounted him, and my heart beat a
little more easily ; for now, whatever had happened to Valentine,
he would soon have help and I should soon have tidings. I
lay down, and was so weary that I slept, but only to lose myself
in miserable dreams. The horse was stumbling ; he had got into
a hole and Giles could not drag him out, the snow m&too dftft^\
414 0FF THE SKELLIGS.
there was no train, it had whisked by just before he reached the
station. Iheard the whistle of it in my dreams, and awoke to
hear it in reality. It was eight o'clock, and the pretty little
maid was standing by my bed with a telegraphic letter in her
hand. With what sensations I opened it I need not attempt to
describe. It was dated from a station a few miles beyond Derby.
"One quarter past seven A.M. Valentine left this place two
hours ago. You shall hear again." That was all, not a word
of comfort; there was none evidently to be given; nothing about
his health ; and he could not have left on his way home, or why
was I to hear again ?
Liz soon came to look at the letter, and took it away to Mrs.
Henfrey. Neither of them attempted to understand it, and I
tried very hard not to judge poor Valentine before the time.
That was a dreary day. The snow fell incessantly, and no one
came to the house. Mrs. Henfrey was very much annoyed about
some evergreens that she wanted for decorating the house ; she
was sure they would never look well if they were cut with the
snow upon them.
I was very restless, but I could retire sometimes to my room
and kneel, and, as well as the tumult of my mind would
permit, I could pray. I could also weep now and then a little
that day; but in the evening there came another telegram, which
gave me a shock that drove away my tears for a long, long time,
and greatly increased my suffering: "London, six o'clock,
Euston Hotel. If you have received any letter or message let
me know. He is in London, but I do not know where."
Wretched uncertainty ! I could not sleep that night, but I
came down the next morning as usual It still snowed. I
could not bear to sit still, but wandered from storey to storey,
and from room to room. There were no telegraphic messages
now either to frighten or to cheer me ; but every now and then
there were Mrs. Henfrey's curious remarks to listen to. She
was not afraid for Valentine, it seemed, and she chose to con-
sider that it must be the snow that kept him away. The rails
were blocked up certainly, but that did not account for the
absence of telegraphic letters. Neither Liz nor I, however, pre-
vented her from taking any view she pleased, and she proceeded
to .have the jellies cleated, t\\a xaisad \ies made, and the game
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 415
roasted, with a view to the wedding-breakfast that nobody but
herself expected to see on the table.
Poor Liz cried a good deal that day ; I never shed a tear. I
was very cold, and everything seemed to have a dimness spread
over it ; but I remember sometimes deriving a slight degree of
relief from going into the nursery and hearing the artless prattle
of the children.
And now Friday came, the eve of my wedding-day. Liz was
unwell from apprehension, and did not appear. I came down
feeling faint, and so weak that I could not descend the stairs
without holding by the banisters. Colder and colder I had
grown as time went on ; there was a weary, wearing pain at the
top of my head, as if the weight of the world was pressing
on it; but I could not be alone. I followed Mrs. Henfrey about,
and sat in each room that she went into.
Strange to say, her only comfort, now that things began to look
so bad, was in pertinaciously continuing her preparations, as if
they could help to avert the coming blow. She had wheel-
barrows-full of evergreens cut and laid in heaps on the dining-
room floor ; she even had some of the principal dishes carried in,
that she might decide how they were to stand. And at all this
I sat and looked on.
I sat on the dining-room sofa, my mind so dimmed by long
tension that nothing affected me that passed around. I had a
desperate necessity upon me to be occupied ; and as my arms
failed me through fatigue, I propped the one which held my
needle on the cushion and drew it out with an effort, and a
determination to continue the effort, which I can feel, when I
think of it, even to this day.
The cook and another servant, as they carried the dishes and
changed them at Mrs. Henfre/s orders, cast pitying glances at
me. I saw it, but I could only move a little way off that they
might observe me less, and I went and sat in an arm-chair
which was opposite to the door that led into the hall. Through
the hall windows I could now see the clear expanse of snow
that lay over everything. My powers of working had given
way. I laid my work on my lap, and resting my arms on the
arms of the chair, looked out with listless apathy.
All my impressions were faint now, my ideas* &o^ \a^
41 6 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
thoughts confused. I was not roused when I heard a servant
utter the word " wheels/' and instead of looking out I looked
at her.
An instant after, and there was a confused noise of footsteps,
and then some one shaking and violently knocking at the side
door of the room.
" Good lack ! " cried the cook running to open it ; "I locked
it because of the jelly glasses being on the floor."
Mrs. Henfrey turned half bewildered by the noise, and the
door being now opened, Mr. Brandon burst in, stumbling in his
vehement haste among the glasses, and then trampling and
plunging through a mass of evergreens.
Brought thus for a moment to a stand, I could see the
vehement flashing of his eyes and hear his hurried breathing
as Mrs. Henfrey and Liz, who now rushed in, seized him by
either arm, crying, " How's Valentine, Giles ? O Giles, where's
Valentine ? "
He muttered some answer that was inaudible to me, and still
trampling through the holly, his eyes fell on the table. He saw
instantly the meaning of these preparations, and while both his
sisters fell back, he stood a moment aghast and shocked, and
then in a low thrilling tone he said, " Oh, my God ! "
It was more like a prayer than an exclamation. " Take that
away ! " he cried to the cook ; " take it out ; " and with an awe-
struck face she snatched off the epergne, and the old footman in
tears followed with my cake. Liz, with her usual terror at
being present when anything was the matter, filled her arms
with holly and rushed out of the room, crying, " Oh, he is dead !
he is dead ! " And then, before any one could get after her to
prevent it, she fell down heavily on the floor; and as I sat
quiet in my place I heard Giles and Mrs. Henfrey lift her up.
I hoped she was not hurt, but in a minute or two I noticed that
Giles had come back and shut the door, that he was coming
toward me, and then that he was standing before me ; but I sat
as still as if the scene that had passed before my eyes was no
concern of mine. I could not feel, I could not stir; I only
perceived that he was holding a letter for me to take, and that
when I did not put out my hand for it he laid it on my knee.
I saw the handwriting, that it was Valentine's, and I said
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 417
with quiet apathy, "He is not dead." Then I lifted up my
eyes and saw, but did not hear him answer, " No."
Still my senses were so dimmed by long suspense and alarm,
that I sat without moving from my apathetic attitude till he
took up the letter, and breaking open the envelope, again offered
it for my perusal.
But no ! Valentine was not come, I had sense enough to per-
ceive that, and also that he was not ill, for he had written ; and,
strange as it may seem, I had no desire to read that letter. Few
women can have received one in all respects its parallel, and to
none could it have been offered with a greater agony of shame
and pity than he showed who offered it to me.
" Do you know me ? Do you know who lam?" I remem-
ber hearing him say. I managed to answer " Yes," and he
gently touched my forehead with his hand, and sighed. " I
have brought you a letter," he repeated; "don't you mean to
read it ? "
Though I was so dull, and so unable to feel keenly, 1 was
aware he was speaking to me as if he was anxious to rouse
rather than soothe me, and I wished to rouse myself, but my
arms lay like lead upon the arms of the chair, and my thoughts
wandered.
" You may read it to me," I said.
He looked fixedly at me as if he did not hear, and I repeated
what I had said.
I did not know what a cruel task I was imposing, till, after
glancing at the now open letter, he trembled, and dropped it from
his hand with a gesture of almost loathing. I felt a feeble
kind of surprise then, and when he turned away I saw the first
few words as it fluttered to his feet, " My clear generous D."
But he did not leave me long waiting for the remainder. He
turned back with a resolute air of courage, and forced himself
to read it to me from beginning to end. It was a strange, weak
confession, half apology, half self-justification. The drift of it
was that I had been right from the first, for now he knew what
love was, and he had never loved me. He had not meant to
be cruel and inconsiderate ; he had but lately discovered that
his affections had been stolen from him by one who was the
loveliest of her sex. He should always "be verj ioxA. ^i Tfcfc *a
4 l8 OFF THfc SKELLTGS.
the dearest of sisters, but, oh ! lie could not come back to me ; it
would 1)0 too terrible. Would I be generous ? would I, could I
forgive him, and be good to him and set him free 1
Poor Valentino !
Some strange changes passed over St. George's face as he read,
and added meaning to the flush of shame that dyed his features,
and to the dilated nostril and heaving chest. There was a
resolute effort to keep his voice steady while he read, and Valen-
tine's weak words were flung to me in broken but stormy tones
of grief and passion and pity that his feebler nature never would
have reached, but fainter and less firm they sounded with every
fresh sentence, till the last unworthy entreaties died away in a
muttered sigh ; and the task once performed, there was no more
striving for self-mastery. Subdued for once and stung to the
quick, wounded both in his pride and his affection, he dropped
the letter again on my knee, and I saw him, with an astonish-
ment that almost roused me from my apathy, retreat to the sofa,
lay his face among the cushions, and yield himself to an agony
of tears.
lie wept with such passion, such a choking misery of sobs,
that the deadly calm which was freezing me to death gave way
a little. I perceived that some of this grief was for me, and
there was some slight comfort and healing in the thought
There was at least one human being in the wide world who
could bo touched for my trouble. But I could not weep yet :
I could not cry for my lost lover lost to the past now as well
as to the future. No ; and I could not cry for my lost home and
changed prospects. I could only look on at this man, who for
the moment had forgotten himself to do it for me, and feel a
yearning desire to change places with him, and lay down my
head as lie liad done.
And yet, strange to say, I had a great dread at heart lest some
one who might be listening outside should hear this. I forgot
that it must all be made public the next day. With an effort I
rose from my chair, fetched a glass of water from the sideboard,
and brought it to him, whispering, " Hush, hush ! " He had
already sat up ; but a passion of tears is such an unusual expe-
rience to some men that they don't know what to do with it,
and when I spoke it oNetcasaa \uxa. ^s^ss *& clenching his
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 419
hands in the cushions, he sunk his face into them, and cried out,
bemoaning himself like a woman. "What had he ever done
that such a message should be sent by him ? He knew it would
break my heart ; he could not and he would not bear it ! "
" Hush ! " I said to him again ; " you must be quiet, and we
want time to think what can be done."
Thereupon he took the water with a sigh of utter exhaustion,
and drank it and gave me back the glass. As he did so he
looked in my face with a world of pity and ruth, but my dimmed
eyes had lost the art of weeping. Neither his compassion nor
his example could bring it back.
He rose presently, and wheeled an easy-chair near to the fire,
and clearing away the evergreens with his feet, put me in it,
propping me with cushions and commiserating me. I could not
have endured this from any one else; but he was a fellow-
sufferer. Moreover, he had been right from the first ; and I did
feel, even at that moment, that if I had only let him go to
Derby when he wished, Valentine would certainly have returned
with him. Indeed I said so to him ; and I remember telling
him not to be surprised at my behaviour; for I knew it was
strange that I could feel no natural emotion, that I could neither
tremble nor sigh.
There was something piteous, no doubt, and hopeless in that
hour it was the first real turning aside from the important
point to which my life had been tending ; it was the flinging
away of allegiance to a trusted friend."
" Have you no question at all to ask me ? " said Mr. Brandon,
with a bitter sigh.
I looked in his face, and the gloom of his brow almost fright-
ened me. It brought to my mind a sudden alarm as to what
might have passed between him and Valentine, and my locked
lips opened to question him : " Where had ho been ? "
"All over London, miserable from dread of what in his
desperation Valentine might have done. All the mischief was
done at Derby. Oh, you have much to forgive not only to
him!"
" And where did you find him at last ? "
" They found out at Derby, and telegraphed to ma, "Ha ^^a.
at an hotel"
420 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" You were not angry with him, poor fellow ? "
" Oh, child, do not look at me so 1 Yes, Iwas angry."
" You did not strike him 1 "
" Xo."
" What did he say ?"
" Nothing."
" What did you say ? "
" I don't know, I don't exactly know ; but he answered that
if I required it he would make the sacrifice."
" He was always of a yielding nature."
" Don't, don't speak so tamely don't excuse him ! It pierces
my heart to hear you."
" I must excuse him ; he would have done worse to come. I
do excuse him for not coming, and I thank you for not bring-
ing him."
" I could have brought him, but you had tied my hands. I
could have made him do his duty, and he would have blessed
me for it afterwards."
" You have done your duty by me instead, and did not sac-
rifice me."
He dropped his face into his hand and sighed, repeating what
he had said before, " Would it, then, have been sacrificing you
to marry you to the man whom you love ? "
" Yes, for the root and ground of my affection for him was'
the belief, which was tardy in coming to me, that he loved me,
and that by devoting myself to him I could make him happy.
He tried long to persuade me of his affection ; I thought his
pertinacity was a proof of it ; and so, because I thought he loved
me, I learnt to devote myself to him. I meant to spend my life
in helping him, to reserve my best affection for him, and all my
allegiance. If he really did care for me, he deserved it; for
who else did even of those on whom I had some claim ? I
would not be perverse, then, and ungrateful. If he did love
me, I would love him in return."
As I spoke slowly and with long pauses and weariness and
difficulty, lie lifted his face from his hands and half turned
towards me, but seemed to be arrested by amazement, and rais-
ing Ms eyes above my head, as he had done once before, he lost
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 42 1
himself in such a fit of thinking that he appeared to bo almost
forgetting to breathe.
Perhaps he did not believe me ; perhaps he felt the ground
giving way under his feet, one chief cause for anger against
Valentine fading away, one chief cause for pitying me cleared
from his mind ; and like a person keenly searching in the depths
of his own memory for something that he desires to bring up to
the light, and that perplexes and torments him with doubts
when he has found it, he sat motionless as a stone, knitting his
brow, and I, weak and weary, looked calmly on, not able to feel
much, but deriving a sort of feeble contentment from contem-
plating a person who could.
At last, with a mighty sigh, he brought down his eyes to meet
mine, and looked at me as if he would have penetrated to my
very soul.
" Is it so hard to believe me ? " I asked.
" I find it hard," he answered gravely, " to reconcile what you
say with with some things that have taken place."
" What things ? "
" What did I warn you of in the wood ? What significance
could there be in my words to bring such cruel pain to you if
you did not love Valentine then? You wished to extort a
promise from me that I would never allude to it again. You
cannot think I have forgotten that, and how you hung your
head and drooped when I was hard enough to tell you that your
boy lover had a careless heart and a faint memory. Love him !
Why, he had confided to me that very morning that he believed
you loved him ; you declined to engage yourself to him, but he
was sure you loved him. And when I turned upon him and
said, 'What then?' what response did I get? Boy that he
was, he faltered and blushed, and owned that he liked you un-
commonly was so proud, so pleased with you and your love.
You have never been able to feel friendly towards me since that
dark day."
" And now," he went on, after another pause, " when some-
thing worse than I ever dreaded has come to pass, something
worse than carelessness and coldness been done, you can sit here
white and wan, like the shadow only of that passionate creature
who resented with such heart-sick teats \tafc tefc Yaafc cfL *&&&
422 OFF THE SKELLIGa
wrong. And, unless I am mistaken, which I think I must be,
you are actually telling me, you intend me to understand,
that you did not cherish him then in your heart (handsome,
joyous, engaging young fellow that he was), but that your
affection for him rose afterwards, and was due to his long
persuasions."
Sometimes when a communication of grave import has been
made, the mind is so full that nothing fresh can startle it.
So it was with me then. I perceived my long-cherished mis-
take, and St. George had warned me about Valentine after alL
What did it signify now ? I thought it over. He was such a
mere boy at that time. I said to myself, " How could St. George
take such a thing into his head ? He was a mere boy I " Then
I recurred to my first thought on the subject. What did it
signify now ?
Some slight movement that he made recalled me to myself,
and looking up, I saw that he was expecting an answer from me,
and looking at me with keen attention.
" He was a mere boy," I said at last. And I considered again.
" And so he thought I loved him ? Strange ! "
" Strange ! " repeated St. George ; " why, his father thought
so, his sister thought so. And as to his persuasions "
" Yes," I said wearily ; "he was very open. Surely you
knew of them."
" Knew of them ! " he repeated bitterly. " Oh, yes, I knew of
them ; but I believed that your long hesitation was owing to
my having reminded you of his extreme youth and volatile
character. I thought afterwards, poor fellow, that I had done
him a great wrong, and you too. I thought I had spoilt your
best chance of happiness, and his best chance of a happy and
noble and virtuous youth."
" Did you ? " I answered, for I was sorry to hear him speak
with such anguish. "Well, never mind now; it makes no
difference."
" I set myself to atone for it," he went on. " I never rested
till I had made an early marriage possible for him. At least
you loved him afterwards ? "
He turned upon me almost vehemently to ask this question,
and I answered, aitei t\m&m% ^m, "\ as& W him. very
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 423
much, lie was so kind; and I wanted some one to whom I could
devote myself. I loved him almost hetter even than Tom at
last."
"Is that all?" he exclaimed, springing up; "almost better
than Tom ! Oh, then, the mischief is not quite irreparable ; the
wrong is not so intolerable as I thought."
I cannot describe what I felt when he said this. His shame
for his brother and his intense sympathy with me had been
more necessary in this great trouble than I was aware. Now
this sustaining sympathy was withdrawing, and all the courage
I had left went after it.
Happily for me the pang of that moment brought back to me
the power to weep, and I could lay down my head at last and
cry for all I had lost for my home under the New Zealand
hills, and my cabin in the " Curlew." 4
CHAPTER XXXIII.
' I wad gie a' my gowd, my bairn,
Sae wad I a' my fee,
For ae blast o' the westlin wind
To blaw the reek firae thee."
It takes a great deal to make some people ill. I suppose so, at
least ; for the next morning, after lying awake nearly all night,
I saw the daylight come in, and I was not ill.
I had wished to be left alone, and had asked to have my
window curtains withdrawn that I might look out as I lay in
bed ; for, as is so often the case in illness or trouble, I did not
like to look at things near at hand.
I did not think very intently about my changed prospects ,
all sorts of irrelevant matters pushed themselves into the fore-
ground, and my only intervals of calm were when I could watch
the slow movements of the clouds over the sky and the quiet
southing of the stars. I heard steps about the house all night,
openings of outer doors, wheels, and movements of furniture.
The place only became quiet about davm *, \u\ \X&s \s&&& *&
424 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
difference to me. I did not want to sleep, and yet I felt the
profound quiet during which light came in resting and sus-
taining me.
At last there were noises again, the usual sounds of unclosing
shutters and knocking at doors, then I began to notice how
unchanged everything else was in spite of the change in me.
"What a commonplace experience ! and yet we are all surprised by
it in our turn, and with it comes the first power to understand
how (greatly as some of us may be loved) we shall make no abiding
change even in any one human face by our going away.
The snow lay on the frozen trees, glittering and pure in the
morning sunshine, and my pulse was beating as usual, and there
was the little church tower. This was the wedding-day, and
the bridegroom's letter was under the pillow.
" I am glad he is not dead," I whispered to myself, and all
my sensations were dull, and the words in which my thoughts
shaped themselves were few and moderate. We can spend a
great deal of vivid emotion on unimportant matters, when the
senses are keen and fresh; but let them be exhausted with
watching or waiting or fear, and how patient and tame we are
about the most remarkable and heart-sickening things.
Mrs. Henfrey's little maid came and helped me to dress ; she
trembled more than I did, and could not speak to me at alL
Then Mrs. Henf rey came herself, and brought me down to break-
fast. I saw that everything had been restored to its usual state.
The evergreens and the plants were gone the tables were set
as they generally stood.
I was so quiet that no one could offer any sympathy. I think
they were thankful to find I could behave almost as usual, and
I daresay they little supposed that my commonplace cogitations
were as much occupied with wonder as to what Mrs. Henfrey
would do with the great wedding-breakfast for eighty guests, as
with the letter that I had to send to Valentine, and what I
should say in it.
Some of the wedding-guests were there in the house, though
I did not know it till I heard the sound of wheels, and was told,
in answer to a question, that the Augustus Mortimers and the
John Mortimers were about to drive home ; but the confusion
of the previous evening lTte\fct\^ra&mQra^hQ\it till long after-
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 425
wards ; nor of the rage of " Uncle Augustus," the head of the
family, and how John Mortimer and Mr. Brandon sent in all
directions to stop the wedding-guests ; how angry they got with
the wedding-presents which kept coming in by the dozen, how
Dick a Court had to be sent to (the clergyman who was to per-
form the ceremony), and the best man, who was no other than
Valentine's old rival, Prentice, had to be met at the station and
desired to keep his distance.
All these things I knew nothing about. They had done
everything they could to prevent mortification to me more,
indeed, than was necessary; for, as the great fact had to be
% borne, the little incidents grouped about it got swallowed up in
the more important shadow.
I recollect little of that morning. About eleven o'clock the
old craving for work came upon me, and I sat between Liz and
Mrs. Henfrey, silent and quite unable to shed a tear. Mr.
Brandon then came in and asked if I thought there was any-
thing that would do me good ; and I said yes : I wished to go
out a walk in the shrubbery. He went away to have a path
swept, and when it was ready he took me out. There was a
cold north walk behind the trees, which was bare of snow, and
there I began mechanically to walk up and down. The inability
to shed tears was telling on me. I felt a burning pain in my
brow ; but I longed for exertion and bodily fatigue. When he
found that, he let me walk alone, standing near, and sometimes
watching me. The driving wind was bitterly cold, and the chill
earth made my feet numb; but the mechanical exertion of
walking seemed to be a relief to me, and I paced up and down
in spite of his expostulations.
Close to this walk, but facing south, was a little cottage con-
sisting only of one room. Sometimes we had used it for our photo-
graphs, but it was fitted up for a study, and Giles often wrote
in it. I now as I walked saw him drag wood into it, and then
fetch some cushions from the house. I thought it was that he
might sit there till I was ready to go in, but instead of that he
lingered near, and I continued to walk till I was chilled to my
very bones. At last he confronted me in the path, saying, " You
must not stop here any longer." I was too weak to contend,
and he took me by the hand and led me tiJl ^ e\*a& ^\asst^&.
426 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
from the dull dark shrubbery, and were facing the little cottage.
He brought me in, and I saw a great fire of wood on the andirons.
. A basketwork couch stood close to it, which was filled with the
cushions that he had brought from the house. The sun was
streaming through the stained glass windows, and all the place
was cheerful and light and warm. But I heard the wind moan-
ing outside, and longed to be out in it walking in the dark
shrubbery ; for sitting thus, deprived of movement and yet not
able to shed tears, I began to feel as if all power of endurance
was over. And yet this misery did not rouse me to any energy ;
it was very feebly that I complained to him, while my limbs
trembled and my head swam.
" Oli, it is much worse for me indoors ! Why did you bring
me here ! "
" I brought you that you might speak. You are breaking
your heart in this silence. Complain to me, and say what you
please that is bitter, either of Valentine or of me."
" You are good to me now ; I have no complaint against you."
" Oh, yes, you liave."
" I did not know it ; I don't care about it."
" And against him."
" If I must talk of him, I will justify him."
" Oh, have pity on me ! It is as I thought. You could not
excuse if you did not love him. Oh, the disgrace, the misery
of it ! "
He spoke huskily, but struggled with himself, and presently
returned to the charge, saying, "Don't turn away your face;
give this trouble words."
" I can't ; you don't understand."
" Don't I ? " he answered and sighed. " Tell me then, and
make me understand."
His sympathy was so keen that for the moment it drew me
out of myself. I experienced a sharp pang of pity for him, for
I saw how he was suffering from the sense of disgrace that
Valentine had brought on him. So I tried to tell him that I
had not been utterly unprepared for this, and with that a burst
of tears came to my relief, and I felt that the comforting warmth
and sunshine were thawing my numb limbs, and that my heart,
for ail its aching, was leas o^T^sy^
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 427
" There ! " he said, putting some cushions about me that I
might rest on them, " let us reckon over the things that are lost,
and consider whether any of them can possibly be supplied. If
Valentine had been your true and faithful lover, and had been
taken from you by death yesterday, would that have been a
greater misfortune than it is to find him weak and dishonour-
able P
"It would have been a deeper sorrow; but then I should
have felt that he had once been mine. Now he has taken
himself away even from the past : he has robbed me not only
of his affection, but of my own faith, my own idea. Oh, he is
gone ! and it breaks my heart to think of what he must have
gone through before he could have behaved in this way. You
ought to have brought him home "
" Brought him home ! brought him here ! " exclaimed St.
George as if in amazement.
. " For then at least we should have known what he was about
I am tormented by the thought of his suspense. What is he
doing, do you think ? "
" I don't know," he answered bitterly ; " perhaps longing for
the letter that he expects from you, the letter which, it seems,
since 'love covers a multitude of sins/ will, without- any re-
proaches or resentment, give him all he wants his release."
I wrung my hands and wept while he spoke, and then
covered my face with them. The forlornness of my position
seemed to press upon me at that moment unbearably. My maid
was sent away, my uncle was at sea : where should I go 1 what
should I do ? I had no relations, no friends, no home.
"Don't, oh don't ! I cannot bear it," I said, when he added
more about Valentine. " He shall have the letter at once, and it
shall be what he wishes. It will make me ten times more un-
happy to think that he is miserable too. Don't talk to me any
more."
He went to the window when I said this, and I shivered in
spite of the glowing wood fire, and longed to get away from him
and from every one, and after this short rest to go out and pace
again along the frozen paths.
I had risen, and drawing my cloak about me, had reached the
door, when, rousing himself from his ieveTi^,\^\^\^\^Vs^3^
428 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
the latch, and said with a kind of reproachful pleading, " Doro-
thea."
" I want to go out and walk," I entreated piteously.
" You are trembling, you are faint. I will take you back to
the house if you please, but you must not walk in that bitter
wind again. I dare not allow it."
So restrained, I lost all self-command, and threw myself on
the couch sobbing. He would not let me go and walk, that was
clear, though I begged and entreated like a child.
He held my hand and reasoned with me almost with a woman's
patience. " Oh !" I exclaimed when I had tried to rise and fo^und
I could not, " if you will not let me walk, pray for me ! "
During the last sleep I had fallen into, I had dreamed of the
raft. We stood upon it in the night, he and I, and I knew of
Valentine's desertion, and begged him then to pray to God for
me. My dream went on to show that he asked what he should
pray for, and I had replied, " That God would make me contented,
and make Valentine happier without me than we had hoped
to be together."
It was with this recollection in my mind that I repeated the
request of my dream, and it was certainly the last thing that
could enter my heart to suppose that he would refuse it.
" To pray for you ? " he repeated ; " what, aloud? Oh, I can-
not do that ! Hasn't there been enough of this ? " Then, when
I looked up at him with feeble wonder, he begged me to forgive
him, and repeated in a choking voice that this was a thing he
could not do.
" I did not want you to pray that the marriage might come
on again," I replied ; and when he made no answer, I went on,
" And if I had, I always thought you wished it to be, though
none of the others did."
"None of the others did" he repeated as if shocked.
" No," I said, " none of them. I told Mrs. Henfrey so last
night, nothing matters very much now, and I have had time
enough since I came here to be sure that if they had wished it
they would have said so, and the absent ones would have sent
kind messages. Emily and Louisa have never so much as
sent their love to me. Not one of them has been kind. So,
perhaps on the whole, tioia \s yafifc *& ^^"
OFF THE SKELLTGS. 429
"If yon say that I have not been kind," he began and
stopped short
" No, I do not say so ; besides, you told me that I had some-
thing to forgive you for."
"Yes."
" I cannot listen to what it was ; I do not care ; but it re-
minded me of what I have felt and believed and said about you.
I remembered it in the night. If you only knew it all, how
displeased yon would be ! And I suppose "
" Yes, try to tell me about this."
" I meant to do it, but everything is such a long way off. I
suppose we can never be friends unless I tell you about this.
I wish I could, it was so unjust."
My thoughts were getting dim by this time, and I heard and
saw everything as if it was taking place in some other world.
" It was a pity," I remember saying when I saw him come up
to me, " and it seems that it was all my own mistake."
Should he forgive me, he inquired.
" Oh, yes," I answered, " and let us be friends."
But if a man forgives on his knees, with a face of passionate
entreaty, it is likely to confuse the person forgiven, especially if
there is alarm in the face.
I looked down at him and said, "I am not ill ; why are you
afraid 1 " Agitation made his voice falter, and I did not hear
his answer, but I went on, " You don't understand ; it is you
that are to forgive you"
It seemed to me that far away some one said, " Yes, he knew
that. Would I let him kiss my hand, then 1 "
I believe I said, " There is no need, and besides, I have yet
my glove on." I remember that I lifted up my hand then and
considered that I could not have taken off that glove however
much I might have tried. Then I observed that he had risen,
that he was standing before the fire, and that he told me I had
not really forgiven him ; but I was too utterly weary to con-
tradict him. Indeed, I had begun to feel that I did not much
care whether we were friends or not.
Then after a time I noticed that he put some of the cushions
against the high end of the basketwork couch. I leant my
cheek against them, and he untied the ribbons oItetj &Q^^&\a&
430 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Oh, I thought, how delightful it would be if I could sleep !
And then there came a moment of conscious delightful rest, and
then I fell into a doze, and next into a dream.
It was the only dream I ever had that realities often brought
to my mind in after years not that any of its details were
repeated correctly, but things often occur which remind me of
. it, and I have believed in prevision ever since.
I was walking in a wood by the margin of a stream hardly
three feet wide. A little child was holding me by the hand,
and in its other hand and under the arm was tucked a straggling
posy of long daisy asters and tall willow herbs, and it was
singing all the while, for its own delight, in the sweetest small
voice ever heard.
I saw some one standing on a rise budding a tree. I perceived
directly who it was, and said, with all the composure and indif-
ference of sleep, " Dear me ! that is Valentine, and no doubt I
1 ave married him after all." Then I looked about for ferns, for
1 understood that this was a New Zealand wood ; but I only
noticed clumps of primrose, and the skeletons of poplar leaves,
and there was watercress in the stream.
I observed a familiar look, and said, " I did not think the
twQ ends of the world were so much alike," and I suddenly
became aware that a little blue smoke which was sifting through
the branches of a cedar tree on the opposite side of the stream
came from the chimneys of Mr. Mortimer's house, and without
surprise I saw St. George coming down to meet me. We ap-
proached a flat plank which served as a bridge ; he set his foot
upon it to ascertain whether it was safe, held out his hand to
my little charge, and between us we guided her over.
Then I thought he snatched her up in his arms and kissed the
small singing mouth with a rapture of passionate love. " Oh ! "
I said to him with a sudden unsatisfied longing at my heart,
" I love that little creature too ; " but as he held her face to
meet mine, I felt, as one sometimes does in a dream, that I was
too late ; my arms would not take her, my lips could not reach
her, and in another instant I knew this was only a sleep, and
that all of it was melting away.
I got myself awake with a strange yearning at heart I
remembered that I did n.o\ Y\^fc ^ta^^^^Vaas^ e&^}ied for
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 431
it before I remembered my own trouble ; but there was whisper-
ing in the room. How seldom one hears people whisper ! It is
the strangest, the most exciting, and the most suggestive sound
in the world.
I opened my eyes; saw Mr. Brandon sitting on the floor
mending the fire with fresh wood ; and leaning over him, with
her hand on his shoulder, was a lady. I saw some firs lying on
the floor, I heard the crackling of the wood ; but as he sat with
his back to me, looking up at her while she listened intently,
not a word of the whisper that floated from one of them to the
other was audible to me, till, as he still spoke, this lady bent on
one knee, and putting her other arm about him, drew his head
on her shoulder and held it there with her hand. Then she
answered, and I heard her words, "As if I did not love you,
except for that little squalling treasure of mine, more than all
the rest of the world put together." And she began to excuse
herself lovingly for not having been able to come to him
before.
After this they whispered again, and I saw him take out
Valentine's letter. Then I gathered strength to rouse myself a
little more, and as I. lifted up my head the basketwork couch
creaked; on which the stranger rose and very gently came
forward as if she did not wish me to be startled. No doubt
I had heard of her, she said; she was Emily, St. George's
sister Emily, and she was come to see what she could do to
help.
She had St. George's dark cloudy hair, and a mouth like his,
which when she smiled only showed the tips of the white even
teeth ; and when I held out my hand to her, she leant over me
with much the same movement she had used to her brother.
" Don't go," I entreated. No, she would stay as long as I liked,
and she took me into her arms and into her possession in a way
that, in spite of her youth, was quite motherly.
I soon managed to say something to her about the letter, and
proposed that St. George should go in and write one to Valen-
tine, leaving her with me. I could not bear the thought of her
going, and when St. George went away I occupied myself with
listening to her voice and looking at her hands, till, falling asleep
again, I heard still the gentle plashing oi dio^ i^T^^&^sa^c^
432 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and the crackling breakage of small icicles from the trees, for
there was a thaw in that sheltered place, though on the other
side, where the north wind was raging and the snow had been
drifted away and swept away, the very snowdrops seemed to
tremble and hang lower for the cold.
Shortly Liz came, and St. George with her. They brought a
letter, and some wine and jelly, which they gave to me. I did
not like the letter at all ; it was neither kind enough nor decided
enough. Whereupon Emily produced a pencil, and said she
would add anything I pleased at my dictation, if I was quite
sure I knew my own mind.
" Yes," I answered, " I do. I wish entirely and for ever to
release him from his engagement to me, and I send my love to
him and forgive him, for he has behaved better tinder the cir-
cumstances than I could have expected."
As they all looked amazed at this, and asked whether it was
really to be sent, I had to explain that I knew he was weak ; it
would have been more like him to have yielded to circumstances,
and then, when it was too late, let me find out his deep attach-
ment to another woman. I should have been miserable then
about him, and he would have spoilt both our lives ; now he
could but have spoilt one.
" Wait a minute," said Emily ; " if that message is sent, the
Oubit must do something in return."
" What need he do 1 " I inquired, hurt at her calling him
" the Oubit," and speaking so indifferently.
" He must answer, that he also entirely and for ever releases
you from your engagement to him."
" He will be glad enough to do that," said Liz contemptuously.
" Unless there comes any hitch about this new affair," con-
tinued Emily, appearing to consider.
I felt at that moment that the " Oubit " did not deserve either
the bitter contempt of Liz or the disparaging suspicions of
Emily, and I could not help saying, " But he has met with a
woman whom he loves now whom he truly and deeply loves."
" No matter," said Emily ; " this thing he must and shall do."
And she actually added the condition she had mentioned. After
which the little pony chaise was brought over the grass to our
retreat, and Emily dro\^ T&a to Vtaa VwasfeW^ tojl& shortly I
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 433
felt so unwell that I went to bed, and they sent for their medical
man.
Mrs. Henfrey told him I had got the influenza, and he said
my nerves had sustained a shock. I did not much care for any-
thing, so long as I might lie still and have Emily. No tragical
impressions could keep their dark hues long in the light of
Emily's presence; and though she would call Valentine the
u Oubit," and sometimes " that boy," I felt that so long as I
might hear her voice now and then in my chamber, and feel her
comforting arms, she might take whatever views she pleased of
life, of Valentine, and of me.
She came and sat by me in the night, and talked to me while
the rest of that weary household slept.
I said to her, " You like me well enough, now that we have
met ; and yet I, knowing you were coming home from India,
almost hoped you would not be in time for our wedding, for you
had never taken any notice of me."
" I did not care to be in time," she answered ; " and I do not
like weddings."
I was not going to betray to her that I heard her tell her step-
brother how much she loved him ; nor how, while she said it, I
had noticed the wedding-ring upon her hand ; but she went on
to talk of her husband. Poor Fred was so unwell that she had
been obliged to settle him in the south of France, at Cannes ; but
she got a telegram to tell her that things were going all wrong,
so she came home as quickly as possible. Then of her own
accord she told me that " Fred " was fond of her. " Every one
must be," I said ; " how can they help it ? "
" You told sister last night," said Emily, " that no one in the
world cared very much for you."
" Valentine has proved that he does not ; and he was the only
person who professed to feel anything particular," I replied.
" Yes," she answered, as if deep in thought. " And yet how
little we can know of the inner life of those about us ! The
affection we rested in and that was proclaimed to the world may
fade and perish, while unsuspected by us our names may be
precious to some common acquaintance whom we seldom trouble
ourselves to think about. Who can tell 1 Have ^q\Sl snsk. ^rssl-
eidered this question ? I often do."
434 0FF THE SKELLTGS.
"No; such an illusion could not come to me. I wish to
look at things as they are. I had but one lover, and him I
could not retain. Oh, you cannot think how utterly alone I
am ! "
She let me cry in her arms, and then she laid her head by
mine on the pillow and soothed me to sleep.
It was high day when we two awoke, and perhaps there was
no real change in things about us ; but yet the snow, I thought,
did not now look so cold, nor any of the bare hills so desolate.
For three days I could hardly lift my head from the pillow,
and yet I was free from some of the worst discomforts of illness.
I had no fever ; I could sleep, and generally I could eat.
All this time Mrs. Henfrey was exceedingly kind. She
tended me with motherly care ; but the one person I wanted
was Emily. Emily sat with her feet on the fender, and told me
all sorts of things ; and when I was nervous about Valentine,
Emily laughed at me nobody was better able to care for him-
self ! He did not feel the matter half so much as I did, I might
be sure. I began to love "sister" more warmly when I saw
how generously good she was to Emily, taking care that she
should have her share of all Mr. Mortimer's little personal
possessions. " I saved this," or " I put by that for you, my
dear, for he was so fond of you."
I had never seen any one so free from jealousy, and I men-
tioned this to Liz and Emily one day. She and mamma were
always like the most loving sisters, they answered ; but poor Mr.
Mortimer had a very unhappy youth, and perhaps that made a
difference in his one daughter's love for the woman who at last
came to his home to make him happy. For sister was about
ten years old, quite of an age to remark things, when her
mother eloped with a low, coarse man, and lived nearly twenty
years not many miles from her old home in misery, disgrace,
and wretchedness. Nothing could be done for her, and Mr.
Mortimer, for all those years, was a broken-down, unhappy man.
At last she died, and the second Mrs. Mortimer, who seemed to
have been very easily won, was received by both husband and
step-daughter as if she had been an angel ; and in their opinion
she always behaved like one.
On the fifth day, when I woke, I heard to my dismay that
OFF THE SKELLTGS. 435
Emily was going to Bath. Old Walker had given out that the
gout would certainly fly to his heart, unless Emily came and
gave him a true and particular account of his dear Erod. So
Emily, who did not think much of the old man's ailments, was
to set forth that very morning.
She sat by me before she went, and talked. She was full of
life and hope. To be sure she rather shocked me when she gave
way to irrepressible laughter over " the Oubit's " letter to me,
which came by that morning's post. How angry I should have
been if any one but Emily had laughed at this effusion ! How
vexed I was when I found that before it was given to me Giles
had read it aloud to her ; for it seemed that poor Valentine had
humbly sent it to his brother to ask if it would do. I cried ;
but I laughed too when I read that letter. There was some-
thing so painfully ridiculous in it; for Valentine was quite
devout and solemn. He conveyed the notion to me that pious
gratitude for my kindness almost overpowered him. He did
not mean it ; but a man should be careful how he thanks God
that he has been permitted to accomplish an unworthy action.
" Did St. George laugh over this ? " I inquired when I had
very nearly sobbed and laughed myself into hysterics.
Emily hesitated. " He always laughs over his own misfor-
tunes," she said. So by that I knew he must have done it over
mine.
" And that reminds me," continued Emily, " you may take
for granted that I know everything you know about him, and
a great deal more. So, my darling, when you get better, do
encourage him to talk about that love affair of his."
" Do you think he would like to talk oi it 1 " I asked.
"I am sure he would; and as you once said to him, you
know, * a woman can often do so much to help in such cases.' "
" I will try ; but, oh ! I am so tired of love affairs."
" Well, here is one at least that you will never be troubled
with again," said Emily, taking up the letter. " You see Valen-
tine is so fervently desirous to show you that he complies with
your condition, that he gives you up in all the long and strong
words he can think of. I never read anything more convincing
than his serious assurances that under no circumstances will he
ever put forward his suit or liis claims any more."
436 OFF THE SKELLTGS.
Then, with all the encouraging words she could think of, with
motherly caresses, and philosophical declarations that I should
soon find this sorrow of mine was no great matter after all, the
delightful young creature departed, and the tragical shadows she
had kept away instantly began to settle down over me again.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
' It never rains but it pours." Old Proverb.
It was not till Sunday morning, a full week after the proposed
wedding-day, that I suddenly felt quietness intolerable, and con-
trived with the maid's help to get up and lie on the sofa.
When this was accomplished I felt miserably weak, but it
was time, I thought, that something should be done ; and Mrs.
Henfrey seemed to think so too, for expressing her pleasure at
seeing me up, she added, "And I am so particularly glad it
should happen to-day, for Giles has got another letter from
Valentine a very humble one, I am sure, poor fellow begging
his brother to forgive him and come to him. The dear boy
is very ill ; but Giles says he shall not leave the house till he
knows what your wishes are."
" Poor Valentine ! " I said ; " how much I should like to see
him ! " And I was a little struck by their having begun, as of
old, to call him a boy.
" Would you, my love ? " she answered with eager surprise.
" Would you 1 You would not object, then, to his coming home
while you are here. Dear me, I wish Giles could hear you say
so."
" Object ! dear Mrs. Henfrey. Of course not. Object to his
coming home ! "
She seemed to reflect. " I don't think it is unreasonable to
wish for him, poor fellow," she said ; " and now his dear father
is gone, I have but him to cling to."
" Oh, do tell Mr. Brandon I hope he will not keep Valentine
away on my account"
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 437
" Well, my dear, if you would tell him so yourself. You get
moped from seeing only me ; I should like you now to take
possession of my little sewing-room, and then we could come in
and out, and you would lose that nervous dread of seeing people.
It is close to this room, you know."
So I was moved into the little sitting-room, and saw the
people coming from church over the field saw Liz and Mr.
Brandon walking home, and very soon the latter was brought
' into the room, and I exerted myself to beg that he would bring
Valentine home.
" The boy has not been used to this sort of treatment," said
Mrs. Henfrey in her usual dispassionate tone. " I am sure I
don't know why they should make such a fuss ; they have nothing
particular to blame him for ; and it's my belief, after this letter,
that when he sees the dear girl, and reflects on her kindness to
him"
" Dear Mrs. Henfrey ! " I exclaimed, and this immediate
opening again of the whole question completely overcame me. in
my then weak state. I began to cry almost piteously, and felt
so hurt, so humiliated, by that expression, "the boy," perhaps
his impending marriage was all that had hitherto made a man
of him in their opinion, or perhaps they had spoken of him with
more respect out of politeness to me.
" There," she went on, and sighed, " I told you how it was,
Giles. Yes, my love ; yes, he shall come."
For the moment Mr. Brandon looked amazed, till roused by
her composure and his surprise I fired up into something very
like a passion, and asked them what right they had to suppose
I would ever condescend to think of Valentine again even if
he wished it ; which he never would. I felt myself degraded, I
exclaimed, by the mere supposition.
At this most unexpected retort both to myself and to them,
Mrs. Henfrey coloured with surprise and vexation. She had
meant to be so kind, and now I had spoken of Valentine with
a contempt which in all calmer moments I had been so careful
to avoid, lest her feelings should be hurt. She arose quietly and
left the room, while I, sobbing with a painful compunction,
exclaimed that I had never known that I felt any contempt for
Valentine till she made me say this.
433 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
St. George, however, soon made it evident to me that he was
entirely on mv side, and there was even something of the charm
of Emily's manner in his gentle, almost loving way of talking,
trying to calm me, and promising to take an apology to "sister"
from me flattering and soothing hy turns, and saying hew
pleased he was to find me getting well.
" And you will not let any of them do this sort of thing any
more ? " I entreated ; " you will see that it is not done ? "
lie assured me most earnestly that he would.
" Because, you know, I am your guest."
" Yes, you are my guest. Do you really wish me to fetch
Valentine ? "
" Yes, I do, for I think he may take great harm in his present
delicate health from want of the comforts of his home, and want
of nursing; but there is something else I should like to say,
only I do not wish you to think me heartless."
" I shall not find it possible to think that."
" Then, I hope you will make as light as you can to him of my
illness. I hardly know how I came to be so ill "
Here I paused. My host, partly perhaps because he had just
been reminded of his position, was very unwilling to be seen to
smile at my words. He looked down, he looked everywhere but
at my face, and he could not manage to hide how much he was
both amused and pleased.
"And so," I went on, with some feeling both of pain and
pride about the matter, " I should like you to make him (inci-
dentally) quite sure that I am not breaking my heart about
him ; " and having said this, I was obliged to cry a little more.
I felt too weak to explain to him that Mrs. Henfrey and I had
not discussed this subject before ; I could only ask him some
question as to Valentine's letter.
He answered that the letter was not altogether a displeasing
one to him ; and then he gradually unfolded to me what he had
discovered concerning Valentine's love affair. He had known
the Nelson family about four months, and the eldest daughter,
Lucy, had delighted him from the first. Mr. Brandon had seen
the mother, who was exceedingly indignant, though it appeared
that Valentine had never paid any great attentions to her
daughter j he had only "been TmaXAa. to Yw^ ^^ iram her, and
OFF TIIE SKELLTGS. 439
unable to conceal his exceeding admiration. Some rumour, it
seemed, had reached them as to a boyish engagement ; but he
seemed so young, and was so unsophisticated, that they did not
believe it. It was because he heard that Lucy had been taken
ill that he had felt impelled to pay his last visit there ; and
then, in the despair of his heart, he had told all. He had been
attacked by severe influenza, and the Nelson family could not
dismiss him at once ; but Mrs. Nelson had done her best to
impress him with a sense of his dishonourable conduct, and had
parted with him believing that he would go straight home.
But that it seems he could not possibly do ; he could not face
and accept the destiny he had been once at so much pains to
carve out for himself; and he had lingered at a village inn,
and at last had gone to London. "In short," said his usual
indulgent brother, " he had behaved almost as badly as he could
have done."
" Did you see Miss Nelson ? " I inquired.
" Yes, her mother brought her in ; but, of course, nothing on
that subject was said."
" And what did you think of her ? "
He hesitated, and almost stammered. " I thought oh, I
thought there was a great deal of self-command and womanly
dignity about her."
I could not have asked whether he thought she loved Valen-
tine, but his belief that she did had been betrayed by the
caution and embarrassment of his words.
"Then his fate is in your hands," I observed; "just as it
always has been only you will have me to help you."
" Shall I ? That is a partnership which would greatly please
me." His face expressed so much pleasure as fully to confirm
his words; but I think he was very much surprised when I
went on to ask if I might write to Lucy.
At last, when I felt calm again, I begged him to go forthwith
and fetch his brother ; and he agreed to go that very night by
the two o'clock train.
Valentine was very ill, had a serious cough, was feveiish, and
could not be so well nursed as at home. I knew Giles had
always thought badly of his state of health, and could not bear
44 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
to think of standing in the way of his being comfortable and
among his own people.
They were to travel down on Tuesday morning, but Valentine,
when Giles reached him, was w r orse than had been expected, and
their return was put off several times.
In the meantime I had leisure and quiet .to think of what I
could do, and there was no one to advise or to interf era. The
old doctor who came to see me daily promised to name the
earliest time at which I might travel safely, and I felt an urgent
desire to get away. I wished to see Valentine, make it evident
both to him and to his family that I completely forgave him, and
then go, and in a new scene try to forget him and this miserable
episode in my life.
I wrote to Mr. Mompesson again, and this time had a favour-
able answer. He and his wife would be truly pleased to take
me home to them. They had given up their pupils, and were
gone to live in the Isle of Wight, near Ventnor. They would
make me as happy as they could.
It was several days before Valentine and Giles were reported
as likely to appear, and I was sitting one sunny morning with
my feet up on the sofa in Mrs. Henfrey's little sitting-
room, when she entered and said quietly, "My dear, they are
come."
They followed close on this announcement Giles with a face
of guarded gravity, and Valentine slinking behind, blushing and
crestfallen. Mrs. Henfrey and Giles kept up a short conver-
sation for the purpose of setting us more at our ease, and then
left us alone.
Then Valentine, relieved from their presence, laid his head
down on the end of the sofa and sobbed out : " She won't have
me, D. dear ! She says she never will ; so now I've lost you
both and serve me serve me right too ! "
I had begun to shed tears also from sympathy, and I replied
that he must not despair. Lucy would most likely accept him
after a time, if he would only persevere.
Was there ever such an undignified remark on such an occa-
sion, or such an undignified answer !
We sat side by side, and he condoled with me on account
of all I had gone through, as if it had been no fault of his;
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 44 1
and I, utterly without any feeling of indignation against him,
condoled in my turn.
He was comforted to have his old friend to talk to ; and such
was the confiding ease and simplicity of his nature, that when he
had humbly begged my forgiveness, and I had most heartily
assured him of it, he could find consolation in unbosoming him-
self as of old; and in ten minutes, or perhaps even fewer, he
was mourning and lamenting again over the hard-heartedness of
his beloved Lucy.
It appeared that he and Lucy had exchanged several letters
already how odd, I thought, that this should have been allowed
by the mother !
" She won't have me ! ' he sighed ; " it's in vain that I tell
her you always declared that you did not particularly love me :
she says I trifled with her. I ! Why, I'm quite sore with
loving her."
" O Valentine ! " I said a little reproachfully ; " what, quoting
already, and on such a subject 1 "
Yalentine had a very bad cold, and looked wretchedly ill;
but this, and his love for Lucy, and the dread he had felt of
seeing me, and the humble apology he had just made, could not
keep him grave and low-spirited for long together.
" I'm just come home," he pleaded, " and you're such a brick,
D. you blessed little creature ! your behaviour, after the way
I've been treated lately, is such a change, such a treat, that I
can't help rejoicing."
" Have they been so severe with you then ? "
" Severe ! Some have been beaten till they know what wood
a cudgel's of by the blow. Yes, I)., if it's any pleasure to you
to know it, they have been very severe."
" Your brother ? "
" Giles ! ah, when first he found me "
" Well, Valentine ? "
" Oh, don't ! I cannot think of it, he has been so good to
mo since, minded it so much less than a fellow could have
expected, considering what he said at first."
" Indeed ! "
" Yes ; but, D., I am disgraced in his eyes, notwithstanding,
for he will scarcely let me mention your name."
442 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" If it had not been for him, I do not really know, Valentine,
what I should have done."
"0 my dear D., I am so sorry. Yes, of course, he would
be kind and attentive to you " Then came a terrible fit of
coughing, and he continued, "but I am so utterly tired, so
jaded, that I hardly care for anything."
"Excepting for Lucy."
" Yes, for Lucy, but I shall never have her." He rested his
chin on his hand, and mournfully gazed into the fire with his
beautiful brown eyes ; then sighed, " She'll be sorry perhaps
when it's too late ; for I shall never recover. She'll get some
one else to love her, 'and monks shall sing, and bells shall
ring, for him that goes to pot.' "
At this most unlikely point he shed two more tears, and I
felt a choking in my throat that forced me to weep too.
But I could not say anything ; the tragedy of life seemed to
shrink down into a corner, as if ashamed of itself, and I cried
while I felt that it did so, and yet I laughed too, rather bitterly.
I began to think, in good truth, that surely this was all for the
best.
He was soon exhausted with talking, and glad to betake him-
self to his own room.
The next day I was so well that I came down to breakfast,
but Valentine was not able to rise, and we all felt uneasy about
him. I found out soon after breakfast another thing that dis-
turbed them. Mr. Crayshaw, who had several times stayed at
Wigfield, and been repeatedly pressed to fix a day for coming
again, had telegraphed from Chester to say that, if quite con-
venient, he would come with his wife and child and her two
young brothers. He could only stay for a day or two.
" But Giles had to write and put them off, of course," said Liz.
I had noticed that all the friends and neighbours kept at a
respectable distance, not a creature came near the house ; and
this, no doubt, was out of consideration for their mortifying and
ridiculous position.
" I think if the Crayshaws are put off on my account," I said,
" it is rather hard. I cannot bear that there should be so many
annoyances about me."
" Never mind," she answered ; " we really could not face our
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 443
friends just yet. Besides, your dear Emily is coming back this
morning, and she will console you and us."
The dear Emily did come, and I begged her not to let that
letter be posted ; the Crayshaws had not been a week in England,
could know nothing of our affairs. If they might come, I would
keep in my room, and they need not even know I was in the
house.
At her request I went up with her to the room at the top of
the house, and was surprised and touched at the pleasure St.
George expressed at my kindness in letting the Crayshaws come.
I perceived that she supposed us to be quite intimate and
very friendly; and really, under the influence of this notion
of hers, and her own easy openness, we actually for the time
became so. St. George was made to write another letter to the
Crayshaws, mainly at her dictation, and my presence as a guest
was openly mentioned in it.
" But I do not intend to be present," I remarked.
" Oh, yes, my dear, you will. A little society will be the very
thing to do you good. Besides," she continued, " I wish to
dress you up myself in one of the Parisian gowns, and cut out
the lovely little American, if we can."
St. George held the pen suspended over the page, and appealed
to me with his eyes. I felt my heart fail me at the notion of
being present among a party of strangers ; but I saw very plainly
how much he wished it ; and when she said, " The sooner you
appear among your friends the less you will feel it," and he said
appealingly, " Dorothea," I consented. Now that I Was likely
always to be Miss Graham, he had at last given up addressing
me by that name. He thanked me, and said, while he sealed
the letter, "Crayshaw will be pleased to see this old house
again ; he is perfectly infatuated about it."
" I do not wonder ; I think it the most charming old house I
ever was in. How you can think of leaving it (perhaps selling
it) to go and live in that dreary New Zealand I cannot
think."
" I am not going to leave it," he answered with a sunny smile.
" I told Val so this morning. I hope to live here all my life.
But I thought you liked the notion of going to New Zealand."
"No, I alwavs thought it a great disad\ T aii\A^\\^\.\^Tv^Q^
444 0FF THE SKELLIGS.
know it sometimes is the disadvantage that reconciles one to a
tiling. Is it one o'clock, Emily !"
"Yes; why?"
11 1 had better go down then. Valentine sent word that lie
should be down alxut one o'clock."
11 What business had he to send you any such message t " said
Emily indignantly.
" He is dull," I replied rather coldly ; " and I suppose, as I
have formally declared that I forgave him, he naturally expects
me to behave to him as usual."
" Well, I will go down and tell him you are coming soon,"
said Emily, and she looked a good deal vexed ; whereupon I,
remaining behind in a comfortable easy-chair, began to expostu-
late with St. George about the change in their manner towards
Valentine. I hoped they would behave to him as before.
" Why should any one resent for me what I do not resent for
myself 1 " I went on. " I have forgiven him."
" I never pretended to resent it," said St. George. " And I
forgave too," he presently added, in a cogitative tone. " I for-
gave you ! It was very kind of me."
" Yes, I remember."
" I do not at all know what it was for," he added, with a
smile.
" And I have no intention that you should," I answered, feel-
ing that Valentine was already passed into the background, and
that I could not help it.
" I wonder," ho went on, standing on the rug and looking
down on mo, "how you mean to show your sense of my kind-
ness ? "
" If I thought there was any tiling that you had particularly at
heart, perhaps I might offer you my valuable advice upon it."
" Would you ? " he exclaimed, with such a sudden surprise,
and such a lighting up of his whole face, that I saw at once he
knew what I intended, and I was vexed to feel that while I
only meant to allude to something remote, I had brought the
whole subject over him and above him.
" And you smiled again. I like to see you smile," he presently
went on, without looking at me. " What a relief it would be
to me if I could talk oi tiiafc oi ftua V
OFF THE SKELLFGS. 445
" Your good genius said to me that she thought you were in
better spirits ahout it more hopeful lately. I am glad."
" My good genius ? "
" Yes, Emily."
I saw that he was not only moved, but exceedingly pleased ;
and as he stood turning his face towards the window, his eyes
were full of broodings over a passionate dream. My words, so
unexpected, appeared to have brought his love vividly before
him, to stand in his presence ; but his smile had hope in it, and
his eyes, more moist than usual, wandered over the wide leafless
woods and sunny fields.
" And so you will help me ? " he said at last.
" I have no thought that I can help ; but I can give you at
least my sympathy. You cannot think," I presently said, when
he continued silent, "how much, since I have been unhappy
myself, I have wanted something to be glad about for some one
else."
" I am far from sure that there will ever be anything to be
glad about for me."
No, I thought to myself, and I shall find it hard to allude to
this again, too great an effect follows, and this hope of his may
be all moonshine for anything I know about it.
I heard the lunch bell just then, and we rose and went down.
That luncheon among them all was a refreshing meal. They
talked of common matters how Louisa and her husband were
slowly returning through France, with " dear Fred " and little
Fred. Emily was very eloquent about little Fred a charming
child, indeed, by her account, only she wished us all to know
that he had white eyelashes.
I was not strong enough to go out and walk after luncheon,
so I sat in the morning room with Mrs. Henfrey and Valentine,
who preserved still a great degree of silence and reserve toward
each other. The room, in fact, became so quiet that I wearied
of it, and went and walked up and down in the dining-room,
pleased to find myself gaining strength and spirits ; but I could
not do this long, and was glad to go upstairs and rest, till, the
short winter afternoon closing in, Emily came and fetched mo
down to afternoon tea in the morning room, after which, in spite
of the murmur of voices about me, 1 ieU iaafo as\efc^ otcl 'O&a sft^
446 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and when I awoke the curtains were drawn and the room was
dusk ; but Emily went and stirred and shifted the logs on the
hearth till a lovely red glow mounted up the walls, and lighted
their faces and gleamed in their eyes, for Giles was in the room
as well as herself, though at first, as he leaned back in his chair
on the opposite side of the fire, he was so much withdrawn into
the shadow that I did not see him. As the rosy light fell over
me, he remarked, speaking of me by name, how well I was look-
ing. This name of mine always seemed to be rather different in
his mouth from its familiar sound and meaning ; he hesitated a
little over the syllables, so that they took an appreciable time
to be said in.
" And so are you," said Emily, laughing ; " I never saw you
looking so well in your life ! I believe she must have put some-
thing into your head this morning." And I, turning my face
towards him, could not help saying rather anxiously, "No, I
hope not."
" But I promised I would go and play to the Onbit," she con-
tinued, rising. " You are so determined that he shall be treated
with all consideration that I dare not refuse him anything."
" Why did you say, * I hope not V " he asked the moment she
had shut the door.
" Emily's way of talking about this kind of thing appears
always to make it of less importance," I said by way of answer ;
"mine, I think, does not. Besides, I know so little about it
that I am afraid of saying the wrong thing."
" But I want to tell you more about it if you will listen."
" I said I would, and then there came a long silence, which
at last had to my mind almost a ridiculous effect, and I broke it
by saying
" It seems to me that we cannot talk about this unless we
give the lady a name. Suppose I say that her name is Mar-
garita. May I ask whether you correspond with Margarita ? " .
" Xo, I have not that honour."
"I suppose she is not engaged?"
" Xo," he answered, but he faltered and hesitated a little.
I was so much afraid of producing again the bad effect of our
morning talk, that I said to him only half in earnest, "The
reason why you cannot %it on with her is that you are so very
OFF THE SKKLLIGS. 447
deferential Now, Margarita is not at all the kind of girl to
be treated with deference ? Evidently not, or this would not
have been going on so long."
" Are you so sure of that ? "
" Yes ; you and I and Smokey are friends : we know all
about it. "We consider that you are a little bit faint-hearted ;
and as you and I only a few days ago came so near being brother
and sister, and as you have expressly asked for my advice, I am
going to speak to you as freely as under any circumstances I
could have done."
" But you are not going to treat the matter in what you and
Emily call a tragical spirit ; that is evident."
" No ; and I am now going to give you some really excellent
advice, which, I assure you, I have considered deeply. I advise
you, without any further delay, to go to Margarita, and tell her
she must marry you, say you insist upon it, and make her do
it."
" Make her ! " he exclaimed, starting up ; " make her," but
he could not help laughing, " how can you give me such ridicu-
lous advice, you spiteful fairy % "
" I am in earnest, I assure you. I do not mean that you are
to say it in so many words, though even that might have a very
good effect. But you must get the mastery over her you easily
can ; and I have no doubt, if the real truth was known, that you
not only could get almost any woman to marry you (who does
not care for some one else), but that you think so I "
The tragical element was overcome. To my delight he laughed,
and declared that he never could hold his own when he talked
to me. Then he added, " Well, since I am at confession, I may
as well admit that I think, with a fair field and no favour, I
could persuade almost any woman to marry me, excepting this
one this only one that I love and live for."
" There, I said so ! I always used to think you had rather a
high opinion of yourself when first I knew you."
" Had 1 1 Well, it is all beaten out of me now."
"That is a pity. It became you. It was not in the least
unreasonable. In fact, I think it was decidedly moderate, con-
sidering your various advantages."
" Advantages ! " he exclaimed, with evident saxrgf^sft.
4.-S FF THE SKELLTGS.
' Of course. I know few men who have so many."
I stopped short here, surprised again at the effect of my words,
anl woinI:rinjj at the amount of hope that seemed to arise in
LU heart at another person's suggestion. I felt a pang of com-
punction to think that I should have said with so little thought
words that moved and stirred him so much ; for as the firelight
flickered on his face I saw its strange, sweet elation, and then
that there was sometliing which was almost shame in it a
change of hue, which, in a fair man, might almost have been
called a blush.
Wondering what meaning he could attach to my words, and
thinking to show my real aim, I presently said
" You have, for instance, the advantage of a fine voice a
very delightful voice. If you feel that you cannot be eloquent
otherwise, you can sing sing to her, tell her so anything you
wish her to learn."
But here he hastily interrupted me ; said he had been foolish,
and with a certain caution and choosing of his words which
attracted mv attention, declared that he had not meant the con-
versation to go to such topics that he could not accept these
flattering remarks of mine.
Vexed with himself, hut not content to give up talking, he
began again in quite a different tone
"Valentine, I believe, made you many offers % "
"Oh, yes, dozens and dozens. I refused a great many of
them " here quite unexpectedly to myself, I could not help
shedding a few tears ; " but you see I accepted him at last, as I
hope Margarita will accept you."
Thereupon he informed me that he had not yet found fitting
occasion to make even one offer.
" Not one ! " I exclaimed in amazement ; " and not find fitting
occasion ! Why anything and everything will do for an occa-
sion, as I have had ample experience. Valentine once made one
on occasion of his having a new hat with a brim that I said was
too broad. I have known him make one when you gave him
i 1 8s., the change out of a bill."
I was a little angry at this moment, partly because I had been
excited to shed those tears, partly because St. George, who had
liitherto seemed to be a brave and manly person, appeared now
OFF THE SKELLTGS. 449
to show a backwardness towards this Margarita, which was some-
thing more than deference, and which annoyed almost as much
as it puzzled me. I had felt desirous to get the conversation
away from its more serious phases, and now I did not know how
to manage it ; and yet I saw that he wanted to go on discussing
this unlucky love of his. So I presently said for I remembered
that he was my host, and I ought to be moderately civil to him
"Margarita must indeed be formidable, since you find it so
difficult even to speak to her. Your caution, too, warns me to
use all respect. Is she very lovely ? "
" Yes," he answered ; " but she does not think so."
" In that case her beauty is no bar ; it does not signify. Is
she very rich 1 "
Here there was a pause. Then he answered, " Yes, but she
does not know it."
" Amazing Margarita ! I never heard of such a mysterious
creature. I might answer, 'Then that does not signify/ only
that all you say is more and more remarkable."
" Yes it is. Will you consider what it probably means ? "
"Dear St. George, I am afraid it means that you have a
rival."
" Yes, a rival. I had a rival. I am not sure whether he is
my rival still ; but he was such a one as I found it impossible to
stand against."
" His advantages were so great ? "
" My disadvantages were so great."
" One of them, I am afraid, was that you loved her much more
than he did, and that your love took away your self-possession,
so that you had not so much to say for yourself as you should
have had."
"You feel sure, then, of my love for for Margarita."
" Of course, who could doubt it 1 I am quite sure you love
her far more than I ever loved anything ; but you should at
least have entered the lists with your rival."
" I loved her first," he answered, " and I never counted on
such an evil chance as her being won before I spoke "
" But you speak of many disadvantages. May I learn some-
thing of one of them 1 "
" One of them was a family obligation," he answered in a low
2 F
450 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
voice. " I could not enter the lists with my rival ; duty and
honour, on account of this, were against it."
As he spoke he turned towards me, and something in his
voice, in the low clear tone and the weighing of his words,
arrested my attention, and fixed it on him more and more.
I had wondered at him. It was hardly manly, I thought, to
have heen afraid to speak, and now with a strange thrill of
astonishment and perplexity I looked and listened.
"A lady," he repeated, "a relative of mine, was under a great
obligation "
"To your rival?"
" No, to his father."
" Indeed ! "
" Yes ; but nothing I am going to say to you demands any
answer. I intend to convey nothing to you but information.
My self-respect will not suffer me to withhold that any longer,
at whatever disadvantage to myself it may be given. That lady
whom I spoke of"
" Yes," I answered ; " wait a moment. I have not wished to
talk of this because it seemed to bring your love so vividly
before you. It is not because I take no interest in it, or in you,
that I have laughed sometimes to-night. Pardon me. I have
been unhappy. I think this must have made me dull"
Something, I knew not what, but certainly other than the
truth and the reality, seemed to draw near to me then. It was
a light, it was a shadow, it was a wonder, and through all
it was a keen consciousness of the intense life, and passionate
feeling, and cautious words I was encountering and sometimes
baffling.
I gave it up, and said to him quietly, perhaps even humbly,
for I was puzzled, " I wish you would let me look at your
face."
Thereupon he moved in his chair, and turning it towards me
smiled ; and there flashed a sudden thought into my heart, that
if I had been Margarita I should not have liked him to smile so
on any one else in the world but only on me.
" Go on now," I ventured to say to him ; c you were talking of
your rival."
" Yes," he replied, " and his father. That lady whom I spoke
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 451
of, she was under a great, almost a supreme, obligation to him.
(I would fain have told you this more gently, and now, I am
afraid, it is not only too soon, but it will be an astonisliment
and a shock to you after all.) She was a widow, that lady, she
had no one to take care of her. There was a lawsuit instituted
which threatened to deprive her and her son of every shilling
they possessed. And this man, this old man, when she was so
more than poor, married her and brought up all her young chil-
dren as if they had been his own, and watched over her affairs,
and at last gained the lawsuit for her, risking much of his own
property to do it, and "
" This old man," I repeated to myself as he paused. I had
heard him say those words before, and always in such a loving
tone. My heart trembled in me, and for the first time since I
had seen him again Valentine seemed very dear to me ; while
with a choking voice and tears falling I said, " Who was that
lady ? I wish to know her name."
" Who was that lady ? " he answered, with a low clear thrill in
his voice that sounded in my ears long afterward, " Who was
that lady ? My mother was that lady, and my rival was my only
brother. He was the old man's son."
CHAPTEE XXXV.
Not beautiful, not intellectual, scarcely even accomplished. How
strange the infatuation which could invest such a common life
and being with a halo so lovely and so lasting !
The misfortune of it, for the moment, completely overcame me,
and with passionate tears and keen self-reproaches I remembered
first of all how coolly I had treated his attempts to enlighten me ;
then, his words, that " she had sometimes said very cruel things ; "
and then, what a little, what a very little while it was since I
had come down to that house very well content to marry Valentine.
I was sorry next that I had ever let him know I did not lovo
Valentine ; and I believe when he came round to the back of tho
sofa, my first words were something very like a reproof.
452 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
The whole situation came before me with such miserable clear-
ness, Valentine having had no one to help hin^ no one to
depend on but this very brother, and my having accepted it all,
titterlv unconscious of its cost.
" Oh ! " I exclaimed, when he leant towards me, begging me to
be calm, " this is all so strange and then the sorrow came such
a little while ago/'
" Yes ; you do not think that I forget this ; and that if all had
pone well with you I should then have given you away myself,
and put you out of my reach for ever ? Do not be afraid ; you
are not asked to bestow anything only to be aware of something
that you receive ; and there is nothing for you to say nothing."
" I wish much to say something, if I could. I feel that I must
have appeared ungrateful, and I cannot understand this at aU."
" But you will believe it, and you will trust me. You told
Emily there was no one in the world who deeply loved you. If
you think my love for you has cost me any suffering ; if you
think it was bitter not only to forego the hope of you myself, but
to keep active in my young brother's heart the affection that I
believed vou lived for, will vou now trust me so far as to let me
bestow my love in peace ? and will you be sure that when a time
to speak comes I will found no hopes on any regard and interest
and confidence you may have shown me in the meantime ] "
" There is no one whom I ought to trust so much ; but make
me a promise in your turn : promise me "
" Ask me this to-morrow," he interrupted ; " not now. Give me
your hand now, and let me have it in mine for a moment"
" But you will try to overcome this imagination ; for no one
even who loved you could content it. The person whom you
cherish in your heart is not in the least like me."
A small, unimportant life ! an insignificant hand ! How hard,
I thought, as he took it, that it should have, even for the moment,
so much power ; for I knew that his trembled. I never felt so
again. I perceived, for the first time in my life, when it touched
his lips, the true attitude of manhood towards womanhood. To
some few men and these are generally the best God gives
that exaltation of heart, that wonderful addition to what is
commonly known to be love, which makes it all one to them as
if they were shown tna ideal ^rife, as first she was given ; the
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 453
pureness and the perfectness that is not, and yet is destined to
raise them as if it was.
" Now, whatever happens I shall not be always hampered, and
sometimes put to shame, by the wretched feeling that I am obliged
to conceal things that ought to be known, and let you say what
you never would say if only you knew the truth."
Before he left me he was very anxious to impress upon me
that there was nothing for me to do or to say. But there was
certainly a good deal for me to think ; and when I got up to my
own room to dress, I cried so heartily over both those two brothers,
that I could not possibly come down to dinner. I seemed to
have done such irretrievable mischief to them. There was
Valentine sneaking about the house, crest-fallen and silent, on
my account. I often felt ashamed of him, and yet very angry
with myself for seeing that he deserved it. And now here was
St. George, I could not overcome altogether the long reserve,
and coldness, and jarring words, and uneasy recollections there
had been between us, how enthusiastic my feelings had been
once towards him ! I knew he more than deserved them all now ;
but they were gone, and could not revive. And the more I
thought over all that he had said, the more puzzled I felt.
I could not make up my mind to come down the next day
till after breakfast, when Emily entered silently, and kissed me,
and took me with her into the morning-room, where a discussion
was going on as to the dinner-party in the evening. There
would only be eleven people, not counting the two boys, and
there ought to be twelve. Lou was expected about lunch-time,
and " Jemmy " and " dear Fred."
That being one of my lucky days, I said, " There is Mr. a Court,
will he do ? " I knew he was a good and stupid man, and that
I should not mind seeing him.
It appeared that he would exactly do if I did not mind his
coming, and a note was sent off to him ; but while it was on its
way he called, accepted the invitation to dinner, and proposed
to stay lunch also, on his way to see some poor people in his
father's parish.
Valentine, I was pleased to find, was wonderfully better ; and
he was so relieved, poor fellow, at the prospect of visitors in the
house ; for as his health improved his sisters maAa mot^ r\&Rxfc
454 0FF THE SKELLIGS.
a certain difference of feeling towards him, and he knew they
could not be uncivil to him before strangers.
** Isn't it najfy of them ? " said Valentine to me confidentially.
44 If it weren't for St George I don't know what I should do."
*\Ve went in to lunch, and it was on this occasion that Dick,
apparently lifted quite out of himself, actually made a joke,
something at least that he meant for a joke, and he laughed at
it himself till we all burst out into laughter too.
There was a hare for lunch, and in course of time Dick said
he would take some more.
** More hare ! " exclaimed St George ; " why, this is the hare
with many friends ! I don't think there is any more, Dick," he
went on, and poked it about, " excepting the shoulders, and they
are getting cold."
"And you would not offer the cold shoulder to me, surely,
Giles ! " exclaimed Dick, and repeated the " cold shoulder " as
if he regarded the notion of any coolness between him and St.
George as an exquisite joke.
Then as soon as we had finished our lunch, Dick said, quite
deliberately and composedly, to Liz that he wanted to speak to
her. Liz rose and went into the morning-room, and he followed.
The extraordinary efforts that they all made not to laugh were
crowned with success ; and in less than five minutes the little
man opened the door again, crossed the hall, and went his way,
and Liz came back. She looked puzzled, and seemed to be
reflecting. Her gold watch-chain had come off, and as she
advanced into the room she kept pouring it carefully from one
hand into the other, in a little heap of links. Valentine looked
very much ashamed of himself, and at last, when no one else
spoke, Emily said, " Well 1 "
" He says I'm just suited to be a clergyman's wife," said Liz
simply ; and St. George started up
" Give me a kiss," he said, " and don't be a ridiculous little
goose."
Liz kissed her brother. He had evidently been quite right
in his suspicions as to what her thoughts might be, for she then
said, " I would rather not, you know, dear; but if I don't take
him, I don't believe you will ever get rid of me at all." Then
Bhe freed herself from "him, raul ^\sl ^hh^ \x chain into
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 455
her palm, she said, " And yet I cannot help thinking that if I
don't take him, I shall be sorry for it afterwards."
It was not easy to reply to such a speech as this ; but Emily
took Liz upstairs with her, and they prepared to walk to the
station. The carriage was to go, but it would be empty, and as
it was a sunny, pleasant afternoon, sister proposed that I should
go a little way in it, and then get out and walk home.
I knew very well who would be my companion ; but if he
had not gone with me he would have stayed with me ; so I set
forth with him, enjoyed the delightful air, and hoped I should
not meet any one whom I knew !
"What could I do?" he presently said, as if he meant to
apologise. " I was obliged to speak, you were so unconscious.
Any other woman would have discovered that open secret long
ago."
" I thought she was a Londoner : you said to me that you
* fell into that pit ' when in London."
" So I did ; when I took Tom away, you know, and, as you
said to Valentine, * deprived you of your home, because I could
not be at the trouble of amusing him here' I forgave you for
something or other, perhaps it was for that ; an easy thing to
forgive, as it arose from ignorance, and Valentine did not tell
me your idea till it was too late for me to trust myself with any
justification. Do you see that tree stump 1 "
"Yes, certainly."
" On it the girl was sitting, Clara, you know, now his wife."
" I never knew she came here."
" She followed him, and I thought his only chance lay in my
taking him off without her knowledge. He was watched, and
could not get a letter to her before he left. He counted, no
doubt, on writing from London. I was beforehand with him.
I wrote out a telegram ready before we started, telling her to
come to town by the very next train. I knew that was a slow
train, and would not get in till the middle of the night. Graham
chancing to lay down his cigar-case soon after we started, I
threw it furtively out of the window, and my own too. When
we hunted we naturally could not find them. He got out as
soon as he could to buy cigars, and I to send my telegram.
Graham was sulky that night no wondex \ "Ha o^t^j ^to\&
456 OFF THE SKELUGS.
a letter, and gave it to the waiter at the hotel in my presence.
I argued afterwards, and reasoned with him.
" We went out. Acts and Galatea was given. We took
tickets, and he endured the music, and afterwards retired early.
His room was next to our sitting-room. I sat up over the fire
waiting till it was time to go and meet this train. I had another
hour on my hands, and as I did not like to draw his attention,
in case of his being still awake, to the fact of my sitting up, I
had turned down the lamp, and let the fire get low. It was not
strange therefore that I began to doze, and shortly to dream. I
thought I saw my mother. I have no recollections of her that
do not present her as healthful, joyous, and lovely. She died
from the effects of an accident when she was about forty-four
years of age. I knew it was my mother, but I did not see her
face. She stood with her back to me, and she seemed to be
leaning over some one who sat in an easy-chair before the fire.
A girl I thought it was, and my mother had gathered some of
her long fair hair into her hand, and was plaiting it for her. I
had seen her do this for my sisters when they sat on a sea-beach,
having dried their hair after bathing, by leaving it loose in the
wind. But as she went on, and the braid got longer, she moved
aside. I saw the gill's face. It was yours ! You took my
mother's attention and caresses very quietly.
" I have no other incident to relate to you no account to
give of what so suddenly came upon me, but only this dream.
" I saw my mother's white hand pass softly over your shining
young head ; and then as I looked at you again, I found to my as-
tonishment that I loved you ; that you were my hope and my fate.
"I woke instantly and congratulated myself with strange
elation of heart. Yes, I did. You were so young, I thought
you would be sure to come to me. I had been delighted with
you ever since the day when you had come to Wigfield, and I
had felt a very tender interest about you before. I had left the
station in the morning a free man; I got back to it in the
middle of the night as deeply in love as a man can be who loves
with scarcely any fear as to the success of his suit. Do you
wonder at me ? "
" Yes ; and at poor Tom, who would not in the end let him-
self be saved."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 457
" No. I got to the station just in time, and when Clara saw
who met her, I think she felt she was mastered. I told her
there was no chance for her ; that Mr. Graham was not aware
of her coming would soon he on hoard the yacht. I told her
I knew she was not a woman of character. 'No, sir/ she
answered, poor girl ! * But/ I said, * your word, for anything I
know, is to he depended on. Shall I trust you ? ' * You will
be a fool/ she answered, * if you do.' Perhaps you think that
was an unsatisfactory answer 1 "
"Yes, and very impertinent."
" I liked it. She might have answered, * Yes, sir.' ' Well/
I said, * I shall stand here for five minutes and read the paper.
I am inclined to think I shall trust you.' I looked at her once;
her black eyes were flashing, hard and defiant. I went on read-
ing. When I looked again I saw that it would do. *I am
going to trust you/ I remarked. ' Very well, sir/ she answered,
with great reluctance. * I am going to give you four hundred
pounds, and you are going to promise me solemnly that you
will neither go within ten miles of Southampton for two full
years, nor communicate with Mr. Graham all that time, in any
way whatever.' I thought two full years and four hundred
pounds would surely see her married, and cure him of such a
disastrous infatuation. ' Two full years ; that's a long time/
was all the answer. I only wished I had dared to propose a yet
longer ; and presently, with a sulky air, she said, * I'll take three
hundred, and say eighteen months.' So I was obliged to accept
the promise, and she gave it so grudgingly that I was sure she
meant to keep it ; which she did.
" I got back. Graham discovered nothing. I began to feel
a deep longing to get home again ; but I knew Graham would
not stir till he had discovered Clara's absence from the cottage
where she had lodged. He telegraphed when she did not answer
his letter, and found this out. Then, sullen and miserable, and
deaf to my request that he would go back to Wigfield, he
insisted on our running down to Southampton. And there to
my joy he could not find her; she was actually keeping faith
with me.
" We stayed there two days ; then your uncle stood in, and
we went on board the yacht. I was very 4fe$Yco\\s to \s& \sxql
458 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
know the state of affairs, and also to ask a favour of him, and
get away home.
" Tliat very afternoon, as we sat in the chief cabin at dinner,
it suddenly seemed to occur to Graham that I must have had
something to do with his discomfiture. And as he reflected he
began to say very galling things to me, which I tried to pass off;
and this attracted your uncle's attention ; and made Graham more
sure of his ground. But I had two reasons, beyond the ordinary
ones, for commanding my temper : first, I felt he had guessed
the truth ; and next, I saw that he was drinking a good deal of
wine. We never mentioned Clara."
Here the carriage stopped, and, I was told, by Mrs. Henfre/s
orders. She thought I should not be able to walk farther than
this point was from home. So we went back through the wood
All the snow was gone, a delightful south-west wind was moving
among the trees ; but I hardly cared to look about me, I wanted
to hear the end of this, to me, strange story, and I soon brought
St. George to speak of Tom again.
" After dinner he took more wine, got first heated, then inso-
lent. The old man sat between us, aware that something was
wrong, and waiting to find out what it was. At last Graham
informed him that 'old Mortimer's ' reason for asking you
down was, that we knew you would have a large fortune, and I
wanted to secure it for myself. Then I flamed out. 1 might
have known this was only said to enrage me, and throw me off
my guard, till he could accuse me of things more real ; but I
had not the sense to keep my tempejr, and we began to storm at
one another, the old man filling Tom's glass as fast as he emptied
it, and listening to his now incoherent bluster with quiet gravity.
We had both risen by this time. Graham showed a great wish
to get at me, and taking your uncle by the arm they began to
sway about together, the old man keeping between us, and
pushing me towards the door, till we reached it. By that time
I had said what trenchant words had been burning in me for
utterance, and when he told me to go into the after-cabin till he
came to me I reached it in a high state of indignation, while he
kept Graham where he was.
" I felt as if I had never been in such a passion in my life ;
it was something new to be accused of meanness and mercenary
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 459
hypocrisy, &c, &c. ; and I sat down glowing with wrath, and
yet I felt almost directly that my position was perfectly ridicu-
lous, for this had really come upon me in consequence of my
interference ahout Clara, and was meant to punish me for that,
and for nothing else. . . . There is a very pretty looking-glass
in your cabin ? "
" Yes."
" Draped about with lace and delicate with all sorts of femi-
nine surroundings ? I saw a small workbasket, too, hanging up
by a hook, a graceful little thing. And various other beautiful
possessions of yours were evident all about me.
" They made me tremble when I saw them with a great long-
ing to get home again ; and I sat brooding over my newly-waked
love till your uncle came in again. ' Now then/ he exclaimed,
* Tom's drunk, a very little wine gets into his head. Out with
it all, man ! What does it mean ? " So I told him.
" And he thanked you, of course 1 "
" Yes ; and I felt how hard Graham had made it to mention
you. But he went on ' And as to my little girl, I suppose
that's all moonshine ? ' I soon undeceived him. I wonder what
you will think if I tell you his answer."
" I should like to hear it."
" Perhaps I may tell it you then ; it will do me neither good
nor harm ; for if it marks his approval, which is something in
my favour, it links a certain advantage to it ; and advantages, as
I plainly perceive, and as you have said, are not what reconcile
you to things. He said, 'I shall give my little girl eight
thousand pounds when she marries ; but if you can get her, I
will leave her thirty thousand more.' "
I had no reply to make to this speech, and he presently went
on, " In an hour or two I went on deck, and to my amazement
we were out of sight of land. * Oh yes/ Brand said, * master
was running down to Bordeaux about some wine.' We soon ran
down, but oh the beating up ! Such weather ! We were sixteen
days on that passage beating about the Channel. Graham and
I were soon reconciled, and he never asked me one question.
Your uncle was very kind ; we suited one another well enough.
I almost always get on comfortably with an old man. We
landed at last, but I did not come home mwraftBdu \i&tas
460 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
from my step-father and from sister were waiting for me at Mr.
Rollings hotel. They confirmed my worst fears when I got home.
Within a month I went back to the old man, reported my
failure, and he called me a fool for my pains."
The carriage coming after us loaded with Walkers ! Lou got
out and walked home with us, and Emily held up her boy to
the window. I was very tired when we reached the house, and
was received by the new-comers with a certain distinction which
was certainly owing to my somewhat mortifying circumstances.
The two shabby little captains soon went away to smoke with
Valentine, and the ladies all streamed upstairs together into the
nursery to introduce little Fred to Frances and Nannette. All
their toys were set out; but little Fred, overpowered by the
number of strangers, burst into a fit of crying, and fought his
aunts, and scowled at the children till we all retired.
The Crayshaws were to appear soon, and I was ordered by
Emily to lie on my sofa till it was time to dress for dinner, that
I might not look tired and pale. I was not sorry to obey, for the
walk had fatigued me. Emily and Lou came in course of time,
and chose among my beautiful dresses what I should wear. They
fixed on a silk dress that looked yellowish by daylight, but which
at night became a cream-like white. I thought it would not suit
me, but was not sorry for that, because Valentine had said when
alone with me that day that " I was not acting by him in the
generous way he could have hoped," and I made out, not without
some trouble, that he thought I was trying to attract him again
by my array !
So I let the cream-coloured gown go on, and the faintly-tinged
rose with it ; then going up to the glass, secretly hoped Valentine
would not think it as becoming as I did.
My heart trembled a little when I entered the drawing-room,
and a very pretty delicate young woman met me with, " Is this
the rose of England, then the white rose? I have so much
vvished to see her."
Crayshaw was there also, looking handsomer than ever, as I
had time to observe, when, after having spoken to me, he sat
down between Nannette and Frances, and tried to make them
believe that they remembered him.
That was the strangest evening I ever spent. Our host was
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 46 1
changed back again to the man of my earlier recollections.
Valentine, having no lady to talk to, was sullen and discomfited ;
he looked at me every now and then with an air of reproof
which I hoped would not be so evident to other eyes as to mine.
In the meantime, Mrs. Crayshaw and Emily, having merely
exchanged glances, understood each other perfectly, and Mrs.
Crayshaw soon made her husband understand too ; so that as I
sat by him and he talked of the old days and the yacht, I felt
at once that they supposed Mr. Brandon to be my lover, that
they approved, and without saying one single word they would
convey their thought to him, and even manage to congratulate
him.
Little Dick and Liz, accustomed to be often together, had now
suddenly discovered that they had nothing to talk about. And
the two young boys, neither of them more than thirteen,
discoursed with perfect gravity on the institutions of their
country.
I was thankful when we got upstairs ; but as I sat by Emily,
and she comforted and rallied and tried to make me feel at ease,
Lou said, in passing us, " the Oubit will want to sing to-night."
"Why shouldn't he?" answered Emily; "it won't hurt
him. ,,
" He will ask Dorothea to play for him."
" Tell him beforehand then," said Emily to me, " that you
will not do it."
Valentine soon came up, sat beside me. " How lovely you
look, D. dear," he said ; " and what a shame it all is ! "
" If you address me again in that manner, I shall call you
Mr. Mortimer; and that reminds me I cannot play for you
to-night, so don't ask me."
Valentine replied that I was very unkind, very disagreeable,
and I knew he liked to sing, and could always sing, even if he
could hardly speak, and I knew also that none of them could
accompany him properly.
" Have you written to Lucy to-day 1 " I inquired.
" You are always asking me that ; of course I have."
At this moment the rest of the party came up. I hoped they
would not ask St. George to sing, being sure that if they did I
should be in request to play for him. I Temei^fcTfc& , W\\fc&
462 OFF THE SKFXLIGS.
told him to sing to his Margarita, and I felt that he was sure
to remember it also.
They did ask him to sing ; he, as I had expected, came up to
mo. " D. is so tired, she says she cannot play to-night," said
Valentine.
"You have asked her?" exclaimed Giles, with an air of
astonishment and reproof, but in a low voice.
" Yes," said Valentine, quite surprised.
"I hope I shall never hear of your taking such a liberty
again," said Giles in a still lower tone. Then he went on to
me, " I am almost afraid it will excite remark if you do not
play once for me ; " and I, nervous and thinking more of Valen-
tine than of him, replied, " I should not think of declining, of
course"
c
Because I am your host?" he asked, as we went to the
piano.
I made no answer. That was what I had meant. But I soon
knew that I had hurt him, without appeasing Valentine, who
went and sulked openly, in a place by himself. And I began
to feel so much that I had taken the wrong side, that it made
me very conscious how little my host cared to sing. He lost
his place, and was nervous ; he looked dispirited, and I was so
vexed with myself that when the song was over I did not rise,
but presently obliged myself to say to him, " That song went
badly ; I must play you a second to atone for the first."
" Not as my guest then," he whispered.
" No, as your friend, and to atone."
So now it was right with St. George, but it was all the more
wrong with Valentine ; and it got worse, because the Oubit was
very anxious to sing himself, and everybody else wanted to hear
St. George, and also, as I could not but know, it amused and
pleased them to see me playing for him. I played four times,
and each time he told me the story more and more plainly, carry-
ing out my own advice to him to the letter, and making me very
nervous lest others, including Valentine, should feel and perceive
what he was doing.
" I knew you would not let me sing any more," he said as I
closed the book ; " but at least you are my Margarita, my pearl
I was only teWing-you ao"
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 463
" I am afraid you are telling everybody else."
" Delightful ! Brandon," said Mr. Crayshaw, coming up with
grave audacity. " What a pity Miss Graham is not always here
to accompany you ! "
I went to bed that night to be haunted by a vision of Valen-
tine's displeased face, and the ghost of St. George's sigh when I
began to play for him.
I did not know what to do ; but that was Wednesday. The old
doctor had paid me his last visit and said I might travel on
Saturday, if I pleased. I thought I had better do it, if they
would let me, for I could not please them all, and I hardly knew
yet which I most wished to please, or rather not to displease.
I knew the next morning. Mrs. Crayshaw, always beauti-
fully dressed, came down, and we were all arrayed, as is the way
with women, so as not to be outdone in taste if we could help it.
The unlucky blue dress, which Giles had declared it was danger-
ous to look at, did a great deal of mischief that morning. He
looked at it so often, that Valentine's attention was attracted,
and I saw on his face not only that he did not like this, but even
the dawn of a curious kind of dismay.
Just the same party at dinner. Valentine having been shame-
fully complimentary to me, I was bent on not having to play for
him ; but he was detetmined to sing, and he so managed matters
that I was obliged to do it once. Emily and Mrs. Crayshaw,
however, were far too clever to let that sort of thing go on. St.
George was soon put in his place, by particular desire of his
guests, and I went on playing for him some time, not without a
certain contentment, for I knew that as long as I was so occupied
they would hardly even look at me.
I wanted Valentine to be displeased, and he remained so all
that evening ; but the next morning, to my dismay, as I sat
writing upstairs in the drawing-room, writing to Mr. Mompes-
son to come on Saturday and fetch me, he came in. I observed
that he had put on his pious air, and I felt dreadfully disconcerted
when he said seriously that he wanted to speak to me ; he had
something of importance to say.
He was so deteriorated, ever since he had come home, that I
should hardly have known him for the frank-hearted fellow I
used to be so attached to.
464 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" No," I answered ; " I would rather not hear it, Valentine."
" But," he continued, " I feel it to be my duty to warn you of
this, because it would disturb you very much, I know, if it
occurred."
This not being in the least like anything I could have antici-
pated, curiosity triumphed, and I went and sat on a sofa near
him. " It's not about myself," he went on ; and I decided to
hear it.
" It's it's about St. George ; " and, as he spoke, leaning on
the chimneypiece, he took up a small china vase, and out of
mere embarrassment because his hand trembled, he let it slip,
and it fell into the fender, and smashed itself into twenty
pieces.
A curious sort of shame in his face, and this awkwardness,
made me see that he really had something important to say, and
I thought it could not well be anything unworthy because it
concerned his brother.
He began
"You have been so generous, and so gentle, since I came
home, and somehow, D. dear, you are so much handsomer than
I expected, that you have more than once I do not deny it
made me waver in my allegiance to Lucy ; but "
" No more of this ! " I exclaimed ; " if you are unmanly
enough to feel so, you would not be ridiculous enough to say it,
if you knew what it makes me think of you."
" That," he replied, " was only by way of opening. You need
not be so warm. I'm coming to St. George, and you know he
is a very clever fellow."
"Yes."
" My father used to hope that some day he would get into
Parliament and distinguish himself."
" "Well, Valentine 1 this is an odd beginning."
" I shouldn't like to stand in his light," said the Oubit, look-
ing almost sheepish ; " I shouldn't like to think that what I've
done would be any disadvantage to him."
I wondered what he was thinking of now, and more when he
said
" Giles has never had any attachment, you know any parti-
cular attachment, as I \i&W
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 465
" Indeed ! "
" Why, of course," he continued, arguing partly with himself
and partly with me, "if he had I must have known it. He's
always been so jolly too, so sure things would come right, and
so disgusted if a fellow ventured to be sentimental. A man
who finds his pleasure in adventure, in knocking about the
world, and public speaking, and politics, passes over domestic
matters lightly. Love, so important to some men, and to most
women, he could soon tread down and push away even if it
came "
" Indeed."
" You are curt this morning. "
"Because you made me suppose you really had something
important to say, and now you are merely occupying the time
with a dissertation on your brother's character."
" But that's what I want to say he in spite of all that, he
has a vein of chivalry in his thoughts about women, which
sways him so much that I believe yes, I almost believe if he
thought any one or indeed J was what I wanted to tell
yon "
" Do go on, Valentine ; what can it be ? "
" I believe if he thought my having thrown you by, and I'm
sure I beg your pardon, I believe he has such a chivalrous
nature, that, rather than such a thing should be any disadvantage
to you, he would propose to marry you himself."
For the moment I felt as if Valentine's idea of what St.
George might do was more noble than what he had done. " Are
you in earnest ? " I exclaimed ; " do you mean this % Does it at
all occur to you to consider what a noble generous nature you
are imputing to him 1 " and he blushed and looked so sheepish,
that I was impelled to go on : " You need not suppose, however,
that any such disadvantage will accrue to me. I do not see that
your fault reflects itself upon me in any way whatever."
Valentine's face shocked me so then, both for old affection's
sake, and from present deterioration, that I burst into tears, for
I was so ashamed of him it seemed so plain from his manner
that he knew he was acting hypocritically.
" And so," he went blundering on, " as I felt that after all
you have a constant nature, not affected Yfj tq^ \r^cra&\as^
466 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
(which I could not help), I felt that it was my duty to warn you,
so that you might not he annoyed hy an offer that naturally
would hurt you your sense of what was due to yourself ; for,
as you have said, this has heen no disadvantage to you ; and I
am sure you would never wish to he a disadvantage to him, poor
f ellow ! "
" Stop ! " I hurst out as soon as I could speak ; " I can't hear
you to make me despise you so ! "
" What ! " he answered, not ahle to fire up in the least, hut
more than ever crestfallen and ashamed of himself, "can you
really think, D., do you really suppose that I was trying to
keep you mine, in case I should fail with Lucy ? "
" If you are not," I replied, crying heartily ; " if such a
thought never entered your head, say so like a gentleman, like
a man, and I will helieve you."
He blustered a little, and tried to get off with some protesta-
tions as to the high respect he felt for me, hut he could not say
what I had asked of him ; and when I inquired how he could
presume to talk to me of constancy, he, very cross, and very
much out of countenance too, replied, that he only wanted me
to he warned in time.
"You are determined to drive me out of his house," I
exclaimed ; " and the very first day that I can, you may depend
on it I shall go."
" He certainly will make you an offer, " cried Valentine.
" But perhaps, " he added, with a sudden flash of astonishment,
which probably arose from some new reflection on what Giles
had looked or said, " perhaps he has done that already."
" No," I answered, sure for once of what he was, and what
the other was not, "he is very good, and very noble, but this
he has not done. H he had, it would be no affair of yours."
" Then he will," said Valentine angrily, " I know he will ; "
and I, deciding then and there what should be and what must
he if he did, replied,
" Then, if he does, I shall accept him."
I had never felt so astonished in my life, and it was at myself.
And I meant it all too ; but it was scarcely spoken when,
drying away the tears from my face, I beheld Mrs, Crayshaw
and Giles advancing into ft& rom, wnL talking as they came.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 467
One instant, and less, was enough to show her Valentine's
confusion and my tears, and without changing her voice, she
seemed to go on as with a sudden thought. " But you must let
me go and see my baby first ; " and so she turned, and quietly
leaving the room she shut the door behind her, while Giles,
advancing to the sofa, laid his hand on the high end of it, and
exclaimed, with considerable indignation, " This is the second
time you have offended in this way. What have you dared to
say to Dorothea ? "
Valentine did not answer a single word ; but I knew I had no
power over him. When he did speak, he could say what he
chose.
But Giles I could do something with to prevent their quarrel-
ling ; so I laid my hand down on his, and kept it there.
He could not well move away then ; but in a high state of
indignation he again demanded of Valentine how he had dared
to annoy me. And the Oubit, instead of answering, looked at
him, and while he looked his handsome face changed, till I
thought I saw again the better, sweeter expression of his boy-
hood. His good angel, perhaps, was pleading with him ; and
when Giles broke out into invectives, and said several angry and
bitter things, he not only could not answer, but a kind of joy
appeared in his face, and then there came the frank beautiful
blush that I had several times so much admired.
He looked his brother full in the face, waiting till he should
pause, and still leaning on the mantelpiece. And I, keeping my
hand in its place, wondered how much of the truth had dawned
on him, and wondered what he would say ; but when he did
speak, oh how displeased I was !
" It's only three months," he began, " since first I saw Lucy,
and we've kissed each other dozens and dozens of times "
" How dare you ! how dare you ! " exclaimed Giles, stung to
the quick, and glowing with passionate indignation that almost
seemed to choke him. " What object can you have in saying
this to me, unless you know how I shall feel under it ? "
I put my other hand to his, and with both of them held it
gently in its place. I felt how wildly the pulse went. " Don't
quarrel," I entreated. " Now, Valentine, say the rest of it"
Valentine had been arrested by SOTpnss,
468 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
"You have always been careless," Giles burst out "You
have been heartless lately ; but I have deserved better of you
than that you should torment me in this way, and you know it.
Do you think either that there is no one in the world whom I
love better than myself, or that I will suffer any words from you
that are meant for the least disparagement of her ! "
Whatever dawning suspicions may have been awakened in
Valentine's breast were so immensely over-justified by this
outburst of complete betrayal, this absolute throwing away of
reserve on the part of Giles, that for the moment he stood
amazed.
" Well, Valentine 1 well, Valentine ? " I repeated.
" Don't be angry, old fellow," said Valentine, advancing a step
or two, and speaking with the gentleness they sometimes used
to one another when either was irritated "Don't be angry,
hear me out. That young lady " (looking at me) " I am not
to address her by the old name now, it seems, and I have not
yet thought of another I told you I had kissed Lucy many
times but I never kissed that young lady in my life, Giles
never once never ! no, never."
Giles heaved up a mighty sobbing sigh he was not master of
the situation ; he had pinned his heart upon his sleeve at last,
and for the moment it had seemed that this " daw " had pecked
at it !
Generous people, though they may be wholly on the right side
of any quarrel, sometimes feel keenly any little wrong they may
have done in the small details of it. Giles, trying to calm him-
self, presently said, " I beg your pardon."
" What for ? " Valentine inquired.
Giles was now rather holding my hand than I his.
" What for ? " Valentine repeated.
" I need not have been so angry ; and last night, it seems, I
need not have been so hard upon you. I did not understand,
that was all "
" Do you mean that I did not understand ? That was not my
fault, Giles, was it ? But you are always so reserved."
Then, while Giles stood stockstill, trying to overcome his
temper and his surprise, the Oubit came and sat down near and
opposite to us.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 469-
" You shouldn't have let me do this to you," he said gently,
but almost reproachfully ; " and perhaps it has been going on a
long time perhaps even my father knew of it."
Then Giles making no answer, his eyes seemed to be opened
more and more. " Did he, D. 1 " was his inquiry.
" I think so."
" You have been very generous to me," continued Valentine,
becoming more and more his old self every instant. " Curious,"
he went on, lifting up his face as if to think ; " very curious !
You gave up to me all so that I might have married her and
never have known. And yet nothing short of all would have
given you back all as you have it now ; for," he continued
with his own remarkable frankness, " it would not have been in
human nature, Giles, to have neglected her, forgotten her, and
thrown her by, for another woman, if I had known that another
man was waiting for her, even though that man had been you.
No ; I feel now that the least opposition would have kept me
true. Ask him to forgive me, D."
"I do not think he had anything to forgive you for till
TO-DAY."
By this time they were both very hard put to it to preserve
that mastery over emotion, or rather the appearance of that
absence of emotion, so dear to the pride of an Englishman.
It is astonishing in how short a time the most important
affairs can be transacted, and how little dignity there is in
conversations on which depend the most important event in
some of our lives.
Set and sustained sentences there were none then ; only a
great outbreak, a sudden subduing of it, a certain thing dis-.
covered, a little broken evidence of affection, all the rest taken
for granted ; then the grasp of two hands, and the younger of
the party turned round half -choked, and "bolted."
I would fain call his exit by a grander name, if I could with
the least approval of my conscience ; but if men will be so very
much ashamed of showing their feelings even to their own
brothers, they must either run away or be comforted, as I
endeavoured to comfort Giles, by putting my cheek down also
on his hand and kissing it.
470 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
CHAPTER XXXVI
The next day the Crayshaws departed, and when St. George
found I had arranged to be fetched away on Saturday, he was
at first unreasonably vexed.
My situation, however, had been eminently uncomfortable
almost ever since Valentine's return; now it was comical besides.
The first time I met him after the scene in the drawing-room,
he threw himself into a chair and exhausted himself with
laughter. " No ! " he exclaimed ; " I never hoped to see this
day ! There is no misfortune in this world that I could not be
consoled for, by the fun of seeing Giles make a muff of himself
Giles in love ! "
It never was of the slightest use being angry with Valentine,
but I felt that to remain under his eyes any longer was quite
impossible.
In the afternoon came what Valentine had predicted. When
Giles found I would go, he said that to offer his hand so soon
was, he felt, to give himself no chance of his being accepted. I
replied that he was right, and that I could not think of such
matters at present. Whereupon he immediately did make an
offer in set terms, giving much the same reasons for this that
Valentine had mentioned. I did decline it. This did not seem
to disturb him at all. He said he meant to tell Dick a Court,
and perhaps Miss Braithwaite, as a great secret, that he had
been refused, and then it would become known in the neigh-
bourhood. He believed he must have made this proposal even
if he had not loved me.
" And now," he went on, "I ask you, as the greatest favour
possible, to reflect, seriously, on the many disadvantages of the
marriage that I hope one day to propose to you again."
" The disadvantages ? "
" Yes ; as you remarked yourself, the disadvantages are some-
times what reconcile. (They satisfy, I suppose, the craving for
rifice.) I thought it 'weua very sweet of you."
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 471
" You have many singular thoughts ! But I had better hear
the disadvantages."
" There's my temper, I am afraid my temper is sometimes
rather stormy."
"Is it? I shall not allow you to call that a disadvantage
not an attractive one at least. I do not like a man to be so
tame that he cannot fire up on any occasion whatever."
" Then I am so ugly."
" You don't think so yourself."
" Some allowance must be made for the self-conceit of man."
" And nobody else does."
" That shows nobody else's bad taste."
"And I don't."
" You don't. I understood that you did, and I have been
hideously ugly ever since."
"All this is because I once said that portrait of you was
flattered."
" Yes, that blue-eyed muff, as Emily called it. Nobody but
the dear old man could bear the sight of it."
" If you cannot think of any better disadvantages than these,"
" You will be obliged to point them out yourself ] But I can.
There is my having no profession."
" That is one, I confess. I wonder how it came to pass."
" It came first from my mother and Mr. Mortimer being so
desirous that I should take orders. I did not feel that * call '
which the English office makes indispensable, and I knew very
well that my mind was too active to rest satisfied in the steady
fixed routine of a clergyman's life, with little chance of roving.
So they sent me to travel, while, as they thought, I made up
my mind. Then it came, secondly, from my having, as soon as
I was of age, about eight hundred pounds a year, and discovering
that if my time was given in addition to that money, and I
bought bits of land here and there, I could help people over to
them. As long as I remained unmarried, I expected to make a
regular occupation of that."
" Surely you cannot have settled all those people that I know
of with eight hundred a year ! How little my uncle has effected
in the world with almost seven thousand."
" Some few things that I have written \ia\fc\rco\^V\\v ^^fcss^
472 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
also; but while Mr. Mortimer lived I had no more income.
Now it is about doubled."
" Is it too late then to have some regular occupation or pro-
fession ! "
" Certainly not ; the thing is half arranged already. I found
I must have regular work, when coming home after rushing
about the world on purpose to forget you ; I thought I had man-
aged to do it to a great degree, and was undeceived by being
with you for a few days. You are afraid of cows, you know,
cows with long horns. I was despicably near betraying myself
when I had to remain and take care of you then ! If I had
How strange it was of Valentine to say those words to me yester-
day ! I think they were true."
I felt that they had been true : it was security that had made
him neglectful ; and this he never would have had, had he known
of his formidable rival.
Giles went on, " Sometimes I wonder what became of the
ring I gave you."
"It is at the bottom of the sea. I told Valentine that you
had given me a ring for a remembrance when first we were
acquainted. I thought also that he told you everything. So
when we were engaged, I wished him to know this that he
might think nothing of it, and you that you might not think I
carelessly neglected to wear it."
" At the bottom of the sea, is it ? "
" Yes. We lay at anchor in a lovely little cove, and they
were taking in water. I was leaning over the bulwarks looking
at the superb pale cliffs like shafts of cinnamon, and at the clear
blue water, so deep and yet showing the wonderful sea flowers,
the pink and orange anemones, spreading below. I had on a
chain and a locket hanging to it, with a little piece of my mother's
hair within, and that ring. And as I looked down and down,
and saw the swaying of the long leaves of dulse, the chain slipped
from my neck, flashed like a gold snake into the water, and
seemed to eddy down under layers of the dulse. The people
spent two days in trying to find it. Such wonderful creatures
and plants and shells came up by drags and in buckets, but not
my locket and my ring. No wonder, for it was below the tide
line, and the water waa forty feet deep. This was on the coast
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 473
of South America. It was the only morsel of our mother's hair
that we had. Tom made a dot on the chart to show the exact
latitude and longitude where these treasures went down."
"Valentine never told me that"
I was working in the morning-room while we talked thus.
He presently began to speak of the Mompessons ; two or three
tears had dropped on my hr Is, for his manner so gentle and
easy, and his face so full of hope and happiness, touched me
more now than any sorrow of my own. But he loved far too
much. I could not answer this love, and I wanted I knew I
wanted to get away from him and rest.
I could not say anything so unkind, but I did say how much
I wanted Tom, and asked him to try if he could not be a brother
to me.
He answered,," We have caused you nothing but misery, both
Valentine and I."
" Have you 1 "
" But you do not want to forget 1 "
" No ; and if I would, I could forget nothing."
" For the sake of which brother, then, Dorothea, are you con-
tent to remember the other ? "
" I am not so ungrateful as you think, nor so undiscerning.
I am not willing to forget you on any terms on any terms
whatever."
" If that be so," he answered, " I will venture to ask you one
question more : Have you any wish that you could care more
for me ? should you be glad to love me if you could 1 "
Perhaps that was a singular question to ask ; but, however
that may be, it was a question that I found suitable, and to
which I could answer frankly, " Yes."
" Then," he answered gravely and gently, " I will teach you
to love me, my sweet, if you will let me."
Our circumstances were most peculiar. I felt it, and was
never equal to the making of philosophical reflections; I am
not equal to that sort of thing now ; but I know that when I
heard those words, I was exceedingly glad very much com-
forted. I saw no evidence of over self-esteem in them, nothing
but a confidence not at all misplaced.
Saturday came. I had a terror upon me of l^\fc-tekv&%\ to&
474 0FP THE SKELTJGS.
even the servants could I think of speaking to and shaking
hands with, without alarm. As to Valentine, it made me ner-
vous to think what I could say to him. Emily found this out,
and Giles knew it by instinct Soon after breakfast they got
me to put my out-of-doors dress on and step into the garden with
them. A few primroses were in flower already and the snow-
drops. When we had reached the wood, Emily kissed me and
retired. Sister and Liz soon came up, stood talking a few
minutes, then they also found occasion to kiss me, and went
away.
" We are not going back into the house any more," said Giles ;
" the carriage will come in about an hour to the corner of the
wood Emily in it."
" Oh, how kind of you to think of this ! how considerate you
all are!"
He brought me up the slope to that little one-roomed cottage
where I had spent such a bitter morning The sun was warm
upon its small casement. I went in and saw again the wicker
couch, and the white embers as we had left them. And then,
just as Valentine had done long ago in the railway carriage, he
asked me to give him a kiss. I replied, " You promised to teach
me to love you. If I can learn, it will be time enough for th-\t"
Thereupon drawing nearer, he immediately took me in his arms
and kissed me on the lips and cheeks. The first sensation of
astonishment over, I released myself from him (as soon as he
would let me), and exclaimed involuntarily, "Valentine told
you that he never did anything of that kind.'*
" Then I hope he never saw your sweet face cover itself with
such blushes," he answered, with a low laugh of heartfelt amuse-
ment. " But that was an extraordinary circumstance ; I wonder
how it happened."
I replied, " It happened partly because I never should have
thought of allowing it."
" How did you prevent it ? " he inquired with gentle deference,
as he pulled the couch forward for me to sit on.
" I made a compact with him at first. I said he was not to
be absurd."
" You did ? But sit down, my Margarita, my pearl, and tell
About this. You know it is my last day with you/'
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 475
He had pushed the couch into a sunny place, then he brought
a long piece of matting, by way of a carpet for me, and chose
to kneel on it, with his elbow on the seat of the couch, and look
-up. Something of the beauty I had seen when we two watched
for Valentine in the night had dawned upon his face. That
strange fancy about a loveliness and sweetness which his own
heart supplied, made him look as if he had got up into some
higher and happier sphere. There was nothing for it but either
to weep or to rally my spirits and laugh. I chose the latter, and
said, " I shall not say another word till you get up."
" Why not 1 why should I not be here 1 " he answered, and
laughed also.
" Because partly because I do not care to see you make your-
self ridiculous."
" What ! are you sensitive about my making myself ridi-
culous ? "
" Yes, indeed."
" A pleasant hearing ! But to make themselves ridiculous in
this fashion is natural to mankind. How charming it is to me
to see you blush ! Do tell me about that compact."
" I shall not say another word till you rise and sit on the
chair."
" This sofa will do as well ; I may sit beside you. Valentine
never once kissed you ! What could he mean by it ? "
This was not by any means the view I had intended him to
take of Valentine's conduct ; but I had declined his homage, and
I was to be rallied instead.
" I said to you that I should not have chosen to allow it," I
replied.
" Sweet little peremptory voice ! Valentine knew what he
was about when he told me that. And all this talk, too, is like
Enchanted English; it floats over to me with a comforting
charm. This is a delightful hour, Margarita ? "
" Yes."
" Considering how badly that plan answered, I can hardly be
expected to follow it. I must look at his conduct in that parti-
cular as a warning."
" He did not say I had never kissed him. I did once, because
it was necessary."
476 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
" Necessary 1 You arc a strange creature strange as sweet.
Tell me why it was necessary."
I told him, and he pondered over the little narrative for a
while, saying, " He had told me several times before that day
that he knew you loved him. I treated it with scorn always ;
that day I went and fetched him home and told him he was
right. "Well, this is something like a confidence on your part ;
people only talk confidentially to those whom they trust."
" I suppose not."
"And like."
" Yes."
" Did you talk so to Valentine when first you and he were
friends ? "
"Not exactly."
" Why do you hesitate and look so delightfully shy ? I have
never thought you shy. Does this place disturb you with
recollections ? I hate to think it was here I refused to do the
one thing you asked of me."
" Yes, I wondered at that : I asked you to pray for me."
" And how could I do it 1 I could not send up such a lie to
Heaven. I could not pray at all in your hearing without gross
hypocrisy, when I knew that, even with no hope on my own
account, I found the failure of that marriage such a respite, such
a reprieve."
" As you could not do that, you are going to grant me a
favour now."
" Yes, I am ; what is it ? "
" You are going to try faithfully and earnestly to see through
the glamour with which you have invested me : all this beauty
and sweetness that you have invented yourself. I should prefer
that you would see me as I am with such good qualities as I
have, and not these."
"Very well," he answered, and folding his arms, as it seemed,
between joke and earnest, he began to look at me quietly and
attentively. I soon found that I had done no good by this
request of mine. Moreover, looking at him from time to time,
it seemed, strangely enough, that his whole face and figure, his
voice and his words, were fast acquiring a beauty and an interest
that I had never io\nvd \iv \taea!i Viota.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 477
"And these good qualities that you really have," he said
at last, " may I hear what they are, my pearl ? What is your
'favourite Virtue'? tell me that I may admire and cherish it."
" Certainly," I answered; "lest, when you find out your
mistake, you should underestimate me, for a change. I can be
docile and faithful ; I am not unreasonable in my requirements ;
and I never forget."
He looked at me. " These shall be added," he replied ; " and
I will, since you wish it, try to feign you other than you are.
In return I ask you what you think you should feel in my
place ? "
" How can I tell ! I flatter myself that I am without illusions
as regards Margarita."
"Ah, you laugh." Then changing his manner, "You are
very fond of little children 1 "
" Yes, I love them."
" Can you feign yourself in the place of some poor woman
who, being in prison, sees her child outside, and hears it cry, in
another woman's arms ? Do you think that hers would ache for
it, specially if that other neglected it, starved it, and was cruel ?
Can you feign yourself in the place of such a woman 1 If you
can, how would you feel in the place of a man whose dearest
object in life had eluded his grasp before he had felt the comfort
of expression and avowal ? Think how impatience and regret
and long restraint would wound and wear him. Can you tell
how such a man would feel if he saw the blessing that his
nature craved carelessly used or roughly hurt by its owner ? If
you can, then do you also think that when, as through some
blissful enchantment, contrary to all sober hope, he found this
being that he loved flung away, and lying on his breast, he
would weary of holding her there 1 Or would he find in her
a long consolation a once forbidden thing made holy and right
for him ? Would he comfort her for what she had lost ? would
he be patient with her regrets for the past ? Tell me whether
he would, and whether you can sympathise with him ] "
Silence then. And soon after the grating of the carriage
wheels at the corner of the wood. We went together to it, and
so on to the station. Emily was within. St. George and I
were both absolutely silent; and when he load. "gv& \j& \to 'C&&
4;8 OFF THE SKELLIGS
carriage to go on together to the junction, where we were to meet
Mr. Mompesson, he took leave of me with scarcely a word.
That same evening I entered my new home. Such a quiet,
pleasant home ; such a comf ortable, easy, and indulgent hostess ;
and such an affectionate host ! There was nothing to do, and I
entered on a willing course of idleness, which it still surprises
me to think of. Nature is evidently sometimes in need of
repose : my nature certainly wanted it ; and I used to lie on the
sofa for hours, in the gay little drawing-room, reading some hook
that amused me, or doing a piece of fancywork. Also I had a
letter, a remarkably long letter, which I often read over ; the
only real love-letter I ever received. It was put into my hand
at the station, and being written in a clear, round hand was
easy to read, wonderful to ponder on, and very convincing as
well as comforting.
I had pictured to myself that I should be so useful in the
house, act like a daughter, save trouble to my kind hostess, and
read aloud in the evening to my old friend. Nothing of the
sort happened. Mrs. Mompesson had lately lost her two elder
children by fever ; the other two were delicate, and were kept
very much in one temperature. I used to pity them sometimes,
and go into their nice airy nursery to tell them stories, when the
day was not fine enough for them to go out of doors; but beyond
this, and doing a little needlework for Mrs. Mompesson, I do
not think I undertook any kind of useful occupation, and I soon
perceived that no species of exertion was required of me.
The only day of the week when I felt restless was Tuesday,
because then I always had a letter from Mr. Brandon. It was
not a love-letter, so he always said, for I had made an agreement
with him that he was to write in a brotherly fashion, and try to
be reasonable. These letters were very interesting, very amus-
ing to me, and a great resource ; but the better I liked them, the
harder it was to answer. This cost me a great deal of thought,
and evidently betrayed to him the fact that absence was oblite-
rating that intimate ease which we had begun to feel in one
another's society. I began to feel afraid of him, and my letters
through February and March grew shorter and more reserved
constantly.
But the second 'weak m March saw me suddenly, almost in
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 479
one day, quite well, perfectly active, and as strong as ever. The
sofa was intolerable. I began to teach the children, take long
walks with them, and wonder why it was that I had been so
inert. I began also to copy out Mr. Mompesson's sermons for
him in a clear hand. This was a duty that his wife had long
performed, but she was very glad to hand it over to me ; and it
was soon made more interesting by his dictating them to me in
the morning, instead of composing them in his study and giving
me the manuscript His sight was not good, and his hand-
writing being small, he could not read it in the pulpit.
On the second Tuesday in April there was no letter. The
perversity of human nature being very great, I was disappointed.
Still I thought it must be because Giles would shortly appear ;
and I went out into the " landslip," and walked with the children
among the green trees, all delicate with their freshly-opening
leafage.
As I walked on the narrow pathway, lost in pleasant thoughts,
a gentleman, whom I had not looked at, stepped aside to let me
pass ; and when I moved carelessly by, a delightful voice said,
" Dorothea. " I looked up at him. No pretence of shyness
could survive such an unpremeditated meeting: before there
was time to consider he' had expressed his delight at meeting
me, and I had shown him my delight at seeing him again.
"We turned back, and walked homeward with the children.
There was always an early dinner, but if Mrs. Mompesson had
not expected a guest that day, I felt that I was very much
mistaken ; and if Mr. Mompesson had not put on his best coat,
and otherwise furbished himself up, I felt that my eyes deceived
ma
It was nearly four o'clock before we left the dining-room.
Then Giles said he had brought some papers to be signed. He
had been made my trustee under the marriage settlement which
never was completed, and my uncle now wanted to take back
some property that had been made over to him for my benefit.
I think this was the account he gave of his errand, and he went
away telling me he should return in the evening. It was warm
and fine, the French window was open, and I was sitting by it,
when, in the gathering darkness, I saw him returning. He
seemed unwilling to startle me, and did not entot \\YY1^V^
480 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
What a little while it was since he had read me Valentine's
letter. Yet I was not now ashamed to feel that my heart had
turned to him, and in my silent thoughts I vowed him a life-
long fealty, and gave him my love and allegiance for evermore.
Finding that he did not speak, but stood looking at me, as
the moon pushed up a little rim from the sea, and shone on us
with a yellow feeble light, I mentioned Valentine for the first
time, and asked about his affairs.
He answered, " I said to you this morning that I had come
on business. I meant to have unfolded it all, but changed my
mind. It concerns Valentine. It is high time that he should
think of sailing."
" And Lucy ? "
" I have seen Lucy again."
" She will sail too ? "
" That depends."
" On what does it depend, and on whom 1 "
" On you."
" But I gave my full consent long ago, and I wrote to her.
What more can I do 1"
" What do you think ? She cannot make up her mind that
she shall not wrong you by such a marriage."
" I can but assure her that it is not so."
" She is not easy to persuade ; she is thoughtful, and I like
and admire her. She would improve and elevate Valentine, and
I suppose she loves him."
" And you believe that he really loves her ? "
" Yes, heartily."
"And he must not risk another winter in England?"
"No. And I promised you that I would promote their
marriage. She did indeed suggest a proof of your contentedly
resigning Valentine, that it was possible you might one day give.
She said it would be enough, and I considered that her words
gave me a right to invade your quietude before the time you
had mentioned. The real proof of Valentine's being free would
be your becoming engaged to another man."
As he said no more, I presently observed, with a certain
demureness, that I thought such a proof ought to satisfy any
woman.
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 48 1
" What may I say to her 1 " he asked.
"Unless you can think of a more appropriate answer, you
may say that (entirely, of course, for her sake) I will take the
first opportunity that presents itself of obliging her."
I could hardly believe it, when, an hour after this, the candles
coming in, I took occasion to look at the pearl ring that I had
got on my finger. It had seemed natural enough while we were
alone together that I should be engaged again ; and I felt that
the kind of deference which was habitual with him gave
him power and mastery far more than any of his reasons
and persuasions, more, indeed, than anything but the love
itself which now he had scarcely skill either to conceal or to
express.
Considering that he was a little inclined to be jealous now
and then, a little unreasonably vexed when it occurred to him
that I had lately been quite willing to marry some one else, it
was a very fortunate circumstance for me that just at first we
had a good deal to do : letters to write to Anne Molton, letting
her know what of my possessions she was to send me home,
what she might keep for herself, and what was to be the pro-
perty of Mrs. Valentine Mortimer ; letters to my uncle and to
Tom, these latter being copied and sent to three different ports,
as their best chance of being received.
Then I wrote to Lucy, and to Lucy's mother, and St. George
superintended made suggestions now and then, which I copied
in ; and so when we read the letters aloud afterwards, we dis-
covered that the grammar was confused, and that fresh letters
must be undertaken. He also wrote to Valentine several times,
setting forth his views as to what would be the best line of
action for him to take; but in these last a feminine instinct
warned me to show as little interest as possible.
I had presently shoals of letters from the family, full of love
and congratulations. Dick a Court, also, as hoping soon to be
one of the family, wrote, and delivered his soul of various
earnest reflections on life, and love, and duty. I found it very
difficult to answer this effusion from my future husband's future
step-brother-in-law. Giles, however, read it, and said Dick was
a dear good fellow, and that, next to commanding intellect, he
thought there was nothing so attractive as honest and soW
482 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
d illness. So I answered it in the light of that opinion, and
began to share it
Sometimes Giles had to go away for a few days. I should
have been almost perfectly happy when we were together, but
for his now and then choosing to talk of marriage. I was ner-
vous still about this, and could not bring myself to believe that
I ever should be married. I would not hear of such things as
bridesmaids, a cake, wedding-guests, wedding-presents. I soon
brought Giles to agree that none of these alarming adjuncts
should come near me.
Though I had no intention of hurrying my own wedding, I
considered that Lucy and Lucy's mother were very unreasonably
slow in making up their minds ; and the more delicate Valentine
became, the more tardy they were in fixing a day.
Mrs. Mompesson seemed to think this very natural, and one
morning being called to our counsel by Giles, I observed her
looking so very grave over one of Mrs. Nelson's letters that I
begged her to tell us what she thought of it.
She thought it seemed uncommonly like breaking the whole
thing off. " They were both very young their means were not
large his health was so delicate ; but she would consult her
brother-in-law, and had no doubt he would agree with her to
allow it. "
I was very much vexed with Mrs. Nelson, not only for poor
Valentine's sake, but because anything which seemed to threaten
uncertainty as to his prospects made me feel that St. George was
inclined to be jealous still. I was sometimes quite hurt, and
often a little displeased, that he could dare to be jealous ; but I
would not venture to say anything on the subject. I wanted to
ignore the feeling altogether, till I should have made him quite
forget that he had ever entertained it.
In the meantime I was perfectly aware that new papers and
paint, with certain renewings of carpets and hangings, were in
progress at Wigfield. I remarked to Giles that it was early days
to think of these things yet, with any reference to me ; and he
replied much as Valentine had done, only with gentlemanlike
deference, that " time would show ; " he thought it behoved him,
he remarked, to have his house ready at any time, as ours was
not like an ordinary enga^me^
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 483
" In what respect ? " I asked.
No preparations were needed, no guests were to attend,
my trousseau, filling many boxes, was already at Wigfield, we
had no one to consult : it was evident that I could be married
whenever I pleased. " As to the settlements, " he went on, "I
told your uncle what I possessed when first I hoped to win you ;
and he said then what he should wish me to settle on you."
On the afternoon when he talked thus he was going away,
partly to superintend some alterations at Wigfield, and partly to
consult with Dick, who, having come into about eighty pounds
a year, thought with the thousand that Liz was to have, and his
curacy, that they might set up housekeeping ; and as sister said
they could not, and Emily was indignant at the very idea,
Dick wanted to go abroad, get a chaplaincy somewhere in India,
or go to Australia.
I felt very sorry for them all when I got his first letter. Mrs.
Nelson had now distinctly proposed that the young people should
wait two years ; at the end of which time she hoped Valentine's
health would be restored. Lucy had consented with as much
docility, and it seemed as much contentment, as if Valentine's
life, health, and love were all secured to her by special contract
with Heaven. Valentine, on the other hand, was in a fury.
He had been allowed to believe that the whole thing depended
on me ; he was incensed with Mrs. Nelson, deeply hurt with
Lucy, and the summer weather having now come on, and brought
his summer health with it, he desired to go and show himself at
once at Derby. But this Mrs. Nelson declined ; he was to wait
awhile. All this was detailed to me by Giles and Mrs. Henfrey
by letter ; and I could not but think that his health was what
really alarmed Mrs. Nelson, for she had not shown any remark-
able delicacy about appropriating him on my account ; all this
had come from the daughter.
I wrote to Giles begging that he would exhort Valentine to
patience, and also to importunity. In the meantime I took
everything very easily myself, and when Giles came back and
declared that if the Nelsons would not let Valentine marry at
once, he would give up this engagement also, I could not believe
it ; such a thing would so cover him with ridicule ; besides, he
loved Lucy, and she was supposed to love him.
484 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
Giles took me out for a walk, and presently, as we sat on a
lovely grass slope looking out to sea, he began to ask me to fix
the time for our wedding.
I begged him to leave it for a time. I could not believe that
it would really take place, and wanted to rest in the peace and
happiness of the present. But this view he did not share, and at
last I proposed a day a distant one certainly and he was so
dissatisfied with it that I asked him what his own views
were. He replied, and laughed, that he thought next Wednes-
day would be a good day.
" Next Wednesday ! " I exclaimed in amazement ; " why, this
is Thursday."
But there was no preparation needed, he replied, and the
lovely white dress I had on would surely do to be married in.
Wednesday had always been his favourite day ; he should like
to be married on a Wednesday.
I began to look at my white gown ; and he, choosing to con-
sider that I was yielding to his arguments, began to press me
further, till, becoming extremely nervous, I begged him to
desist, and confessed how completely the notion that something
(I could not shape to myself any idea what) would certainly
intervene to prevent the marriage. It was the only remnant of
the terror and suspense I had gone through, and when he
reasoned with me it became more vivid, till at last he asked
what I could possibly suppose would intervene. It must be a
presentiment of death, he remarked ; nothing else could part us.
No; it was not death; I could give no account of it. He
wished to persuade me that it was nothing but a nervous fancy,
that the longer I indulged it the worse it would become.
What could possibly put it into his head, I inquired, that I
would be married so soon ? Next Wednesday indeed ! And
though he argued the matter all the way home, and laughed
a good deal over it, yet, as it had been proposed only half in
earnest, he gave it up with a very good grace. But the next
morning, when he came to see me, I could not help observing
that he was out of spirits, so much out of spirits, that I really
did not like to ask him the reason. We went to walk in the
"landslip," and sat down, and then he told me what was the
matter. He had got a. \&\te Iwccl Valentine ; Mrs. Nelson
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 485
declined to make any change as to the two years that he was to
wait ; he had positively refused to wait, and she had accordingly
desired that he would return her daughter's letters and give up
the engagement ; which he had done !
I was more than disturbed at this ; I was even shocked. That
Valentine should make himself ridiculous and behave ill, was
nothing ; but that Giles should condescend to be jealous of him
now (and he made this very evident) was more than I could
bear, and I spoke to him with an asperity that I am sure
astonished him; and when he answered gently, I burst into
tears. This I could not bear.
" And he wants to come down here," said Giles.
" He shall not come," I answered ; " I will not have him
here."
" Surely, my dearest, you are not afraid of seeing him again."
Afraid ! Oh, how my whole heart rebelled against such an
idea ! But I insisted that he should not come ; he was always
making some mischief in what concerned me ; there would be
no more peace if he appeared ; and, being excessively hurt at
seeing St. George's discomfiture, I declared that his being
annoyed at this matter, jealous and disturbed, was almost cruel
to me very nearly insulting.
" He shall not come," I repeated.
St. George answered that he did not know how to prevent it.
Valentine had left Wigfield, and gone with the Walkers to
London. They would take lodgings, and might not write to
give him their address before Wednesday. Valentine proposed
to come on Thursday.
Thereupon being destined to cure him of his jealousy once and
for ever, but being only, to my own apprehension, very angry
with Valentine, and feeling hurt at the distrust of my love, I
replied, not without some of the most passionate tears I had
ever shed, and not without certain upbraidings too, "Very
well then; I said I would not be married on Wednesday should
not think of such a thing but rather than he should trouble
my peace, and see that you condescend to be jealous of him, I
will ! "
If my recollection is correct, I said this in a somewhat
threatening spirit against Valentine, ha \iorc\i faA \aa ^m,
486 OFF THE SKELLIGS.
and as to Giles I certainly meant it to mark my sense of his
conduct which was displeasing me.
But when I dried my eyes, and saw his face ; when I heard
him say that he never would condescend to be jealous again as long
as he lived; and when I found that as we walked home together
he was very silent, and never said a word about Wednesday,
I could not summon courage to mention it either ; but while I
sat in my room waiting till it was dinner-time, and considering
whether he would treat my words as if they had not been said
with due consideration, Mrs. Mompesson came in. " Love," she
said gently, "Mr. Brandon wants you to go out fishing this
afternoon ; but if I buy the silk for you, the dress can easily be
made by Wednesday."
This was said, I was certain, at St. George's instance, to
discover whether I would hold to what I had said. I sat a
minute, lost in thought, but my good angel pleaded with me ;
St. George had gone through enough worry already, and too
much, about me. When could there be a more convenient time ?
and how could Valentine be kept from making me uncomfort-
able if he came ? I had determined as we walked home to let
things be ; so at last I said, " He always promised me that
I should walk to church through the fields. So as he is
rather infatuated about a white morning-gown that I have, it
would be better that I should wear that." Thus the thing was
settled.
We had letters from New Zealand on Monday ; and to my
deep delight and thankfulness I found that my dear Anne
Molton would never feel my not coming to my house there as I
had feared. Anne had met with an excellent man, a missionary,
and they had found each other so well suited that she had
married him. It was not till Tuesday, the very day before my
wedding, that I let Giles write and tell them all at Wigfield. I
also, as well as he, wrote to Liz and Dick ; and as Valentine
was not now to go to New Zealand, we made over that house
and everything in it to them. Liz was to have it instead of her
portion, a right good exchange ; for an English clergyman, as
we had good reason to know, would be a most welcome arrival
in that particular locality ; and if he had not a church to begin
his ministrations in, na \\ t o\)\3i \\a.\^ sl'Wv^ wv^kv&l o\Ls& had
OFF THE SKELLIGS. 487
Worked many a day with his own hands ; and Liz would have
a garden that was the envy of the colony !
I was very nervous ; the days of snow and silence all over
the country, during which I had waited for a wedding already,
kept constantly recurring to me unless St. George was by, and
he would not allude to the past.
At last Wednesday came. I woke, and could hardly believe
it. We breakfasted precisely as usual ; then the two children
and their parents set off on foot to the little quiet church,
and Giles and I followed over two or three fields. We sat down
on a grassy bank, to put on some new gloves ; these were not
white, however, and I, though I wore a white dress, as I usually
did in the morning, had no other bridal array. I did not even
then believe that all would go well. I had a vivid recollection
of the telegrams. But we rose, and he took me on to the church,
a little rural building that stood open. There I saw Mr.
Crayshaw, who had come from London to give me away, and
no one else at all, but Mr. Mompesson with his white gown on,
and Mrs. Mompesson with the children.
The ceremony actually began, and I perceived, almost to my
surprise, that we certainly were being married after all ! But as
if it was quite impossible that anything concerning me could be
done as other people do it, all on a sudden, while Giles held my
hand, a thought seemed to flash straight out of his heart into mine,
that he had forgotten the ring. I was quite sure of it : he did
not even put his finger into his waistcoat pocket, as a man might
have done who had bought one and left it behind. There was
no ring ; he had forgotten it.
A pause.
" Fanny," said Mr. Mompesson ; and Mrs. Mompesson, with
all the good-will in the world, and with Mr. Crawshaw to help
her, tried to get her ring off her dear, fat, friendly hand, and
tried in vain.
Giles almost groaned. He had expected me to be more than
commonly nervous ; now seemed some ground for it ; but real
and sheer nervousness often goes off when there is anything
to be nervous about, and I now felt very much at my ease, and
whispered to Giles that a ring would be found somewhere. So
it waa The clerk had darted out oi tine c&lutc&l aft, itaa ^x&\i\^&
488 OFF THE SKELL1GS.
of Mrs. Mompesson's hand, and in a few minutes he returned,
following a lovely, fresh-complexioned, young woman in a linen
sun-bonnet, and with a fat, crowing baby on her arm. She was
out of breath, and coming up to Giles quickly, she thrust out
her honest hand, and allowed him to draw her ring off, and marry
me with it. A healthy-looking young fellow, in a paper cap,
which he presently removed, came slouching in after her, and
looked on, unable, as it seemed, to repress an occasional grin of
amusement ; and when the ceremony was over, they followed us
into the vestry, and we all sat talking a little while, till some
rings were brought from a shop for me, and Giles chose one
and paid for it. Then I felt that I was Mrs, Brandon.
He returned the ring he had used to the young woman, but I
observed that she made her husband put it on for her again; and
as he did so, he remarked to Giles, with a certain quaint com-
placency, that wives wanted humouring ; and for his part (he
might be wrong), he considered it was their due. Then in all
good faith assuring him that he would never repent what he had
that day done, he set his paper cap on his head, and retired with
his family, while we, having taken leave of our friends, stepped
out into the fields, and departed together to begin our story.