To give the morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother earth.
The morning rose clear and brilliant. The partings were over, and Bluebell, on the deck of the river steamer, was gazing her last on the long flat shore, with its high elevators, and waving adieu to the diminishing forms of Mrs. Leigh and Miss Opie, who had seen her on board,—the latter with many injunctions to ascertain that two old-fashioned hirsute trunks containing her wardrobe were really put into the steamer at Quebec. Bluebell had treated herself to a smart little portmanteau for the cabin, being rather ashamed of her antediluvian luggage. She had ten sovereigns in her purse, that had been scraped together among them as a provision for any emergency. The Rolleston children had sent her a travelling-bag; but not even a message came from Cecil, which saddened Bluebell, but did not make her resentful, for she could not but suspect that the former's engagement to Bertie had come to an end, and that, in some way or other, she herself had been the cause of it.
A touch of frost during the last fortnight had worked a transformation on the foliage. The thousand islands were changed from green bowers to the semblance of shrubberies of rhododendron, so brilliant were the crimson and red of their leaves. They were associated in her mind with Cecil, whose artistic eye revelled in the autumn tints, and was perpetually painting and grouping them during the last fall.
It was rather lonely and monotonous in the river steamer. There was no one on board that she knew, and, as each hour increased the distance from all familiar places, a feeling of friendlessness stole over her.
Arrived at Quebec, every one seemed to push before and jostle her away; but patiently following in the stream, she found herself, with a sensation of relief on board the huge Leviathan steamer that was to be her home across the broad Atlantic.
Some misgivings respecting luggage obtruded themselves. A porter had put her portmanteau and bag on board, but the two trunks she had never seen. No one seemed to attend to her till one man gruffly replied,—"That if they were properly addressed, they would be put into the hold all right." And Bluebell took comfort in the remembrance of the labels plentifully nailed on by Aunt Jane, that she had then thought looked so nervously ridiculous.
She sat for some time alone in the saloon, waiting till the rush for state rooms should have a little subsided before making a timid request for her own.
Several people were now returning, apparently with disburdened minds, for anxious wrinkles were smoothed out into complacent curiosity. Bluebell made an incoherent attack on the stewardess, who swept by, without attending, and after being passed on from one official to the other, she found herself half-proprietess of a dark confined den, with two berths, two wash-hand-stands, and a sofa. Her partner in these luxuries had apparently taken possession and gone, for rather a queer shawl lay on one berth, and a singularly tasteless hat hung on a peg.
These significant articles deprived the little dungeon of all charms of privacy, and, feeling as if it belonged so much more to the other lodger, and she herself were somewhat of an intruder, Bluebell left her small effects in the portmanteau, which she stowed away in the most unobstrusive manner, not even venturing to hang up the brown-holland contrivance of Aunt Jane.
Then she found her way on deck, where most of the passengers were congregated, and, sitting down on a centre bench, in rather inconvenient proximity to a skylight, was sufficiently amused in speculating on her fellow travellers.
"My comrade can't be among them," she thought, "for she has left her hat below."
Most noticeable were a young officer and his bride, as Bluebell immediately decided the latter to be, partly from her helpless exigeante demeanour, and partly from the extreme newness of her fashionable get up.
The minuteness and height of her heels were more conducive to the Grecian bend than preserving a balance on a sloping deck, and her fanciful aquatic costume of pale-blue serge more adapted to a nautical scene in private theatricals than for contact with the drenching spray of the rough Atlantic.
But ere the anchor weighed she shone pre-eminent, and had the gratification of making a dozen other women feel shabby and dissatisfied.
In contrast to these was a sickly-looking, middle-class person, with two children tastefully arrayed in purple frocks, red stockings, and magenta comforters. They were clinging to a coarse-looking girl, also with a preference for cheerfulness of hue, who carried a felt donkey, and seemed to be the nursery-maid.
The head of this household, apparently, was not going to accompany them, and, indeed, appeared in rather a more elevated condition than could be wished. He addressed Bluebell, and inquired if her cabin was near his wife's, and, on professing ignorance, said he trusted it might prove so, as "he naturally felt great anxiety at her travelling so lone and unprotected like,"—a slight unsteadiness of gait showing how irreparable was the loss of her legitimate defender. The people around stared and smiled, but he continued to gaze, in a mournful and approving way, at Bluebell, while his wife sat in a state of repressed endurance, calculating how many more minutes he would have for exposing himself before the tug separated friends from passengers.
After a playful feint to throw one of his children overboard, he became calmer, and relapsed into a maudlin monologue till the bell rang, when he was hustled off, much to Bluebell's relief as well as his wife's, whose set mouth relaxed as if a care had rolled away.
Two or three officers on leave were pacing up and down, and with them another young man, but, whether he were civil or military, Bluebell could not decide. He was not exactly like either; there was a slight oddness about his dress, which, though well cut, was carelessly put on, and rather incongruous in different parts. The neck-tie was a little awry, and not the right colour for the coat; still he seemed gentlemanly—rather distinguished-looking than not.
These were all the portraits she took in till the bell rang for luncheon, and there was a general desertion of the deck. Being, by this time, very hungry, Bluebell followed in the string, but felt dubious where to seat herself, as she found people had already appropriated their places by pinning their cards on the table-cloth.
The captain, who had just come in, observing her, asked if she were Miss Leigh, and then took her to a seat next but one to himself.
"You must look upon me in loco parentis," said he, good-naturedly, with a strong Scotch accent.
Being the first friendly word she had heard, Bluebell thanked him with a heartiness of gratitude that caused her neighbour on the left to glance at her with furtive interest. It was the young man with the deranged neck-tie. On her right was a haughty dame, who evidently considered herself a person of position. Next the captain, on the opposite side, was an elderly widow lady, with weak eyes and rather methodistical appearance; and on her left a fussy, brisk-looking little woman, of about thirty-five. Then came the bride and bridegroom, a doctor, an aunt and niece, and the rest were out of range of our heroine.
Days at sea are very long, and this first one seemed nearly interminable to Bluebell. She walked on deck till she was tired, and read a book till she shivered, and then retreated to her cabin, to find the fussy little lady of five-and-thirty extended on the sofa. "Ah!" cried she, "I have been wondering all day who my fellow-lodger was to be; let me introduce myself, as we are to have such close companionship. I am Mrs. Oliphant, of the 44th; you are Miss Leigh, I heard the captain say. I am lying down, you see, for I have such a dread of sea-sickness, and it is such a good thing for it."
They were not out of the river and it was like glass. Bluebell, feeling particularly well, laughed inwardly, as she inquired if Mrs. Oliphant was a bad sailor.
"Middling; very much like the rest. You see I have been settling everything conveniently—while I can."
She spoke as if she had just made her last will and testament, and certainly everything was very commodiously arranged—for Mrs. Oliphant. Not a peg or a corner was left for any properties of Bluebell's, who perceived she would have to keep all her effects in the portmanteau, and drag it out for everything she wanted.
"But I always try and cheer up other people," said the little lady, complacently. "I have a bad bout, and then I go and visit others, and keep up their spirits—going round the wards I call it. When I came out, Mrs. Kite, of our regiment, and Mrs. Dove, of the 100th 'Scatterers,' would have laid themselves down and died if it hadn't been for me; but I roused them—Mrs. Kite, at least—for poor Mrs. Dove gave way so, she wasn't out of her berth for a week, and could keep down nothing but a peppermint, and the stewardess never came near her."
"But surely everybody won't be ill!" said Bluebell, somewhat appalled by these statistics, and, with the close air of the cabin, feeling her head swim a little. "I believe it is better not to think about it."
"Certainly; let us change the subject. Will you hand me my eau-de-Cologne? And so you have never been to England before."
"Never," responded Bluebell, not inveigled into giving any further information by Mrs. Oliphant's look of curiosity.
"Perhaps you are going out now to be married?" (archly.)
"No," said the girl, composedly; "if that were the case I should hope my intended husband would come and fetch me."
"Well," said the lady, finding she was to extract nothing, "I suppose we must be getting ready for dinner. In the P. and O. it used to be full evening costume, but one soon has to give that up on the Atlantic; so you see I just change my body for a white Garibaldi, and put a coloured net on. I have four nets, mauve, magenta, green, and blue; these make a nice change."
But in spite of her extreme satisfaction in her own arrangements, she felt secretly disgusted at the freshness of Bluebell's appearance in an uncrushable soft barége trimmed with blue. It was also rather a blow to observe those thick shining coils of chestnut hair were not supplemented from the stores of any Translantic coiffeur.
When they came to dinner, a little more motion was perceivable as they were entering the Gulf, and the table was mapped out with ominous-looking frames of wood for the confinement of plates and glasses. The bride came down gorgeously attired in a Parisian garb of mauve silk, cut square, but looking slightly white and less secure of admiration than she had in the morning.
"That is not a very serviceable dress for a sea voyage," whispered Bluebell's neighbour, seriously. A few remarks had already passed between them, and she had discovered him to have large, demure, brown eyes, that never appeared to notice anything except for the gleams of secret amusement that occasionally danced in them. "It quite sets my teeth on edge seeing those stewards tilting the soup close to and trampling on it."
"She must be a bride, I suppose," returned Bluebell, "and has so many new dresses, she doesn't care about spoiling one or two."
"Heavens! what a view of matrimony! And these are the reckless opinions of young ladies of the present day! Why, Miss Leigh, the greater part of my great-grandmother's trousseau still exists in an old trunk; and my cousin Kate went to a fancy ball in her tabinet paduasoy, which was as good as new."
"How tired they must have got of their things! I should like to have a new dress every day of my life, and a maid to take away the old ones," cried Bluebell recklessly.
"How much does a dress cost—making, trimming, and all."
"Oh, some would be simple and inexpensive, of course—say, on an average, £6 all round."
"That would be more than £1,800 a year, without counting Sundays. You'll have to marry in the city, Miss Leigh."
"I shall have to make £30 a year supply my wardrobe—and earn it," returned she, lightly.
This admission did not lower her in the estimation of the chivalrous young sailor, for such he was, though it cooled the already slight interest taken in her by the portly lady on the other side.
Mrs. Oliphant, who had made acquaintance with everybody, was gabbling away with her accustomed volubility.
"Oh, my dear Mrs. Rideout, have you tasted this vol-au-vent? You really should. I have got the bill of fare" (with girlish elation). "There's fricandeau of veal, calf's-head collops, tripe à—" here she stopped short, confused at the shocking word.
Bluebell and the young lieutenant had arrived at sufficient intimacy to exchange a merry glance.
In the mean time, the bride was enacting the pretty spoiled child, and resisting the solicitations of her husband—a spoony-looking infantry captain—that she would endeavour to eat something. "Every one says it is so much better," reiterated he.
"But I am not hungry," said the baby, with most interesting naiveté.
"Try a rawst potato, ma'am," said the captain, in his broad accent. "There's many a one will eat a rawst potato who can't care for anything else."
The bride made a little moue, and shook her head, then admitted that she fancied a piece of raspberry tart, though the captain protested that if she would eat anything so injudicious, a gentle nip of whisky would be advisable to correct it.
Captain Butler, the happy bridegroom, was evidently still in the adoring stage, so he listened complacently to his wife's silly badinage with the skipper, whom she informed, apparently for the information of the company, that she was just nineteen, but winced a little at her further admission that they had only been married a week.
A slight but monotonous roll and general chilliness, seemed to portend they were getting into a more open sea, and, as the motion increased, the saloon began to thin a little. The bride's prattle deepened into moanings and complaints; she was laid on the sofa, covered with shawls, and supplied with sal-volatile and smelling-bottles by her devoted spouse, who began to look deadly pale himself.
Mr. Dutton, Bluebell's neighbour, had gone for a smoke with the skipper. Mrs. Oliphant was also an absentee; she had tottered from the saloon the instant the wind freshened, with a contortion of countenance that betokened her dallyings with the vol-au-vent would be severely visited. Mrs. Rideout, the lady of position, went off on the arm of her maid, who had not yet succumbed.
Bluebell, determined to resist the whirling in her head, took out some work on which she tried to fix her attention. The elderly widow was looking over a missionary book with woodcuts, and they occasionally exchanged sentences.
The discomposing rocking of the vessel continued, and the moan of the winds mingled with the incessant complaints of Mrs. Butler on a distant sofa, who was as communicative respecting her anguish as her age.
Tea and the return of some of the gentlemen a little relieved the monotony. Bluebell was languidly experimenting on a piece of dry toast, when the loud crying of a child attracted her attention, and, the steward leaving the door open, a little girl of four plunged in. She recognised her as one of the children with the tipsy father. The mother had dined in the ladies' cabin, and retired to her berth to lie down, and this lost lamb was searching for her.
"Come here, my dear," said Mrs. Jackson, the widow lady. "Don't cry, what's the matter?"
But "I want mamma," was the only reply, without any cessation of shrieks.
"Oh, hush! look at these pretty pictures; here's Moses in the bull-rushes."
A momentary glance, and then the cries redoubled.
"Phoebus, what lungs!" ejaculated Mr. Dutton. "Come here, child," authoritatively, holding up a lump of sugar.
A slight lull, and a hesitating zig-zag movement in his direction. He made a grab as she came within reach, placed her on his knee, and pushed a bit of sugar into the month opened for a roar.
"I am quite ashamed of you, making such a noise. Don't choke, there's more sugar in the basin. Wipe your eyes, and see if you can possibly look pretty."
Bewildered, but distracted by the sugar, the tears ceased.
"What is your name? Mary, I suppose."
"No, no," indignantly, "H'Emma."
"H'Emma! You little cad, what is the H for? Say Emma. You can't? Then no more sugar."
"Emma," repeated the astonished child.
"That's right; here is another lump. Miss Leigh, may I ask you to reach me a very pretty book of coloured animals I saw behind you? Now, Emma, there is a tabby cat, just like you have at home."
"No, mamma drove it away;" and, the grief returning, "Oh! where's mamma?"
"She isn't coming while you make that noise, and I fear she must be a wicked woman to drive a poor cat away,—she will never have any luck. Now, what's that?"
"A 'orse," triumphantly.
"Where were you riz! Say horse. That's right; don't forget. A pig, a sow, a goose," and so on, half through the book. "Now I'll shut it, and you can go to bed."
"No, no; see the rest," said the now excited child.
"Which would you rather have, mamma or pictures?"
"Pictures. Show them quick."
"Very well; then mamma may go to blazes. We don't want her bothering here till we have done. What did you say was the name of that animal?"
"A 'orse."
"What did I tell you? You will never be a lady if you leave out your h's."
At this moment the mamma appeared. "Oh," said Mrs. Jackson, "your little girl was crying so for you, till that gentleman succeeded in amusing her."
"I 'ope, sir, she 'asn't been very troublesome? The baby, 'e 'as been so fretful with 'is teeth, or I should 'ave come for H'Emma sooner."
"The gentleman said H'Emma was vulgar."
"Don't you tell stories, miss. The gentleman wouldn't 'ave you called hout of your name."
Bluebell laughed at Mr. Dutton's slightly confused appearance, and asked if he thought his corrections would survive the force of example.
"I might have known whom she had learnt it from."
Then, after a moment's hesitation, he asked Bluebell if she could play chess; and, on her replying in the affirmative, he produced a pocket-board.
"I always take it to sea with me," said he, "and make out problems."
Bluebell was beaten, and he tried to teach her a more scientific game. And the evening passed away pleasantly to those two at any rate.
On retiring to her cabin, she perceived a strong smell of brandy, and found Mrs. Oliphant ensconced in the lower berth. Evidently the time for "cheering other people" had not arrived, for her complaints were incessant. The ship was rolling considerable, and Bluebell found some difficulty in undressing, and more in clambering into her berth. She had not been there many minutes when she was startled by the apparition of a man walking straight into the cabin, who explained his errand by unceremoniously putting out their lamp.
Then she fell into a dreamless slumber, but was not long allowed a refreshment denied to her companion, who, in all her wakeful moments, insisted on keeping up a querulous conversation, till Bluebell, in despair, feigned sleep, and would no longer reply.
CHAPTER XXVII.
HARRY DUTTON.
That I could always honour, but never could indorse.
To speak still more commercially, in riding I am quite
Averse to running long, and apt to be paid off at sight.
In legal phrase, for every class to understand me still,
I never was in stirrups yet a tenant but at will;
Or, if you please, in artist's terms, I never went a-straddle
On any horse without "a want of keeping" in the saddle.
The next morning was rougher than ever. The stewardess brought Mrs. Oliphant's breakfast; but Bluebell, eager for more congenial companionship, dressed, and went down to the saloon, where she received a cheery welcome from the captain, who said he had hardly hoped to have his breakfast-table graced by the presence of any ladies on so wild a morning.
The widow was also stout-hearted, and, evidently considering it right to take the only young lady under her chaperonage, advised her after breakfast to remain below and work with her. Bluebell was of a grateful disposition, and acquiesced, but secretly thought it rather dismal, so, when Mr. Dutton came down and begged her to go on deck, as they were passing through some magnificent icebergs, she willingly pocketed her tatting and went up. The young lieutenant got a couple of rugs and arranged her comfortably. Certainly the roll of the ship was much more bearable on deck.
Mr. Dutton remained to amuse her, and, both being young, they speedily became confidentially communicative. She learnt from him that he had just been promoted out of his ship, and was going home till he got another. "At least," he amended, "it is more my home than any other. I am going to stay with my uncle, who would like me to give up the service, and remain with him altogether."
"Is he so very fond of you?"
"Why, yes, in a sort of way. You see he has got no one else. He never wished me to go to sea, but when I was at school a brother of one of the fellows came, who had just passed as naval cadet, and he had such a lot of tuck, and tin, and presents, that we were all wild to go too. My governor had some interest, and I never ceased tormenting him, till at last he got me appointed to the 'Sorceress.' After I had been a month at sea I had had quite enough of it; but we were on a five years' cruise, and by the end of that time I liked the life as well as any other."
"Then why should your uncle want you to give up your profession?"
"Because," blushing slightly, "he always says I shall be his heir, and he wishes me to take an interest in the estate, and learn to be a country gentleman. But after I have been on shore a month or so the monotony of it is awful, and I feel as if I must do something desperate if I stop quiet longer."
"I thought English country gentlemen found plenty of excitement in hunting and shooting."
"Not all the year round," with a smile; "and, besides, I can't ride! Now, Miss Leigh, if you were an English girl, you would never speak to me again! I don't fear the obstacle, and would ride anything anybody likes to trust me with; but I know, and the horse knows, he could get rid of me at any minute. I hunt sometimes, and go straight if the quad. I am on is fond of jumping; but I cut a voluntary as often as not, and then some fool is sure to come up and say,—'You had no business to have parted at that fence, Dutton; the horse took it well enough!' Then I have no 'hands,' I am told. Certainly, whenever I take up the rudder-lines to put his head for any particular course the brute takes it as a personal affront, and begins to fret, go sideways, and bore and all but tell me what a duffer he thinks me. There's my cousin Kate, who will spoon with me by the hour in a greenhouse, and dance as often as I like to ask her, but at the cover-side she is so ashamed of me she shuns me like the plague; and then, of course, next ball it is, 'Dear Harry, do introduce me to Major Rattletrap,' or some such soldier officer, 'I like the look of him so much.'—'I just offered to,' says I, 'but he didn't seem to rise; said his card was full. Seems sweet on that girl in pink, with black eyes.' That's a school friend of Kate's, whom she is mortal jealous of."
"As if she believed a word of it!"
"Oh, didn't she, though! She bit her lip, and looked shut up. I have great moral influence over Kate that way."
"There's a grand iceberg!" cried Bluebell, after an amused pause, in which she had been trying to picture Cousin Kate: "What a strange shape; it must be hundreds of feet high. How cold it makes the air, though."
"And you are shivering; I'll run and fetch another rug. It is warmer by the funnel, only there are a lot of fellows smoking there."
"But, Mr. Dutton," said she, hesitatingly, "why don't you join them? You have given me all your warm things, and must be cold yourself."
"I'll go if you tell me to," said the lieutenant, looking full into Bluebell's eyes. She was silent, and the long eye-lashes came into play while she considered. She had promised Mrs. Rolleston not to flirt, but there had been no question of that hitherto. Why should she throw away a little pleasant companionship when she was so lonely? "I only spoke on your account." But she had flirting eyes, which said, only too plainly, "Go, if you can."
"I don't think any one could feel cold near you," he whispered,—and then they both blushed. A minute after he ran off for the rug, and Bluebell was left—to repent. "Oh, dear!" thought she, with very hot cheeks, "we must not begin this sort of thing already, or there will be an end to all comfort—and as if I could ever forget!"
She received the rug with matter-of-course indifference, and looked up at him with the serenity of a nun; the young lieutenant was quick to perceive the change. He thought it wiser to follow suit, and they were at ease again, though each remembered the other's blush.
"I came upon a very touching tableau in the saloon," said he; "the bride was reluctantly pecking at some chicken, and that ass, Butler, feeding her with a fork."
"Ah! those are your nationalities," laughed Bluebell; "we don't do such silly things in Canada."
"No, you are very stiff and stand-offish there, I know; that is why you don't require chaperones."
"What are the duties of a chaperone in England, beyond sitting up against a wall all night, like an old barn-door hen?"
"But they mustn't roost," said Mr. Dutton; "they have to guard their charges from the insidious approaches of ineligible youths, and assist them to entwine in their meshes the sons of Mammon."
"But it must be rather difficult at a ball to distinguish who are eligible as you call them."
"Oh, an astute and practised chaperone knows pretty well who everybody is. They have books of reference, too,—the 'Peerage' and 'Landed Gentry.' I believe now, though, a good deal of matrimonial business is done in the city."
"And men have no objection to heiresses either," said Bluebell, darkly, as a memory came over her. "There's the dinner bell." He collected her rugs, and helped her down to the saloon, where they were betting how many knots the steamer had made that day, and raffling for the successful number. Mrs. Oliphant was present, almost as brisk as usual, for the wind had moderated, and the steamer laboured far less. After dinner some of the ladies joined in a game of shovel-board on deck. The bride, now quite bright again, insisted upon being instructed by Mr. Dutton, and became, with a view to his fascination, more helpless and infantine than ever, for she was one of those women who cannot bear any one to be an object of attention but themselves.
However, as she was not successful in detaching him entirely from Bluebell, she conceived a dislike to her, in which Mrs. Oliphant cordially participated, and they afterwards whiled away many an hour in the dear delight of detraction. Bluebell was pronounced an unprincipled adventuress, determined to use every art to entrap this unsophisticated young man, and each act and look on her part was treasured up by the two censors for private analysis and discussion.
Mrs. Butler, it is true, had less provocation to be spiteful than the elder lady; for being young and silly, she was a certain object of attraction to some of the officers; but the very indifference of Mr. Dutton gave a value to his admiration, and made her more eager to obtain it than that of the rest. Besides, the vacuity of mind and employment at sea, a brisk flirtation is sure to attract lookers-on, and become a fruitful incentive to malice and envy. Bluebell could not account for the unfriendly interest she excited, as her Canadian education had taught her to regard fraternizing pro tem. with any sympathetic masculinity a very unimportant matter, and about as much a precursor to matrimony as if her companion were of the same sex; and she had been far too hard hit to bear any down-right love-making from another man so soon after. Mr. Dutton was, perhaps, as inflammable as most sailors, but he could not make Bluebell out. She evidently liked his society, and became pleasant and animated when they were together, which they were pretty constantly; yet if ever he ventured on anything tender she had a way of putting it by in the most unembarrassed manner possible, which piqued while it perplexed him.
On one occasion, when she had let some warmer speech than usual glance off, he chose to take it as a snub, and, pretending to be offended, betook himself to masculine society and smoking. Bluebell was alone all day, a prey to the ill-natured watchfulness of her two enemies, whose quickened observation and exultant faces proved they had noticed the cessation of his attentions. Once or twice he passed her without a word or look, regardless of the innocent surprise in her eyes. "Perhaps he is trying to gain 'moral influence over me,' as well as his cousin Kate," thought she, with a little laugh. At dinner he dropped into a seat next Mrs. Butler instead of his usual one by herself, and, from the bride's incessant giggle, was apparently devoting himself to her entertainment. Bluebell had no one to speak to except the kind old captain, with whom she was rather a favourite, and who chatted away willingly enough, till she ceased to hear that disagreeable and affected laughter.
"Miss Leigh," said a penitent voice in her ear, "will you come on deck? There's a little land bird in the rigging."
"No, no," said the captain. "I won't have this young lady disturbed; it is very cold on deck, and she is better here."
"I thought you would like to see it," said the lieutenant, gloomily. "It is very tired—blown off shore, I should think."
"Indeed, I'd like to give it some crumbs," said she, hesitatingly. "Will you take it some, Mr. Dutton?"
"Certainly not," seeing his advantage, "unless you come too—in fact, I thought of shooting it. It would be pretty in your hat—or Mrs. Butler's."
"That would be, indeed, a feather in your cap," said Mrs. Oliphant with an unpleasant sneer.
"Quite right, my dear," said the captain, as Mr. Dutton walked away, "not to do everything a young man asks you;" and he assured Bluebell, who was still solicitous about the bird, that it would not venture down for crumbs.
Our heroine was vexed at Mr. Dutton's disagreeable manner, and began moralizing on the inevitable way in which she succeeded in estranging her female companions, and offending those of the other sex.
The old captain was just going off to his bridge, when by some afterthought, he stepped back, and asked Miss Leigh if she would like to sit awhile in his cabin. "You'll find no one there but the cat and the parrot," he said; and, on her gratefully assenting, led the way to a small oasis of comfort.
The cat, a great brindled Tom, arched his back a yard high, and made a sort of back jump up to his Master's hand, where he rubbed his head with a sociable miaw. Bluebell soon had him on her lap in a cozy arm-chair.
"I think Master Dutton will be rather puzzled where to find you," observed the old skipper, with a twinkle, as he was leaving the cabin.
"Dear me," said Bluebell, with a conscious blush, "I hope you don't think—that there's anything—of that sort—"
"I think you have been letting that young man keep you all to himself up in a corner quite long enough," retorted he, "and you may as well show him you can do without him;" with which he left her to her meditations.
"How disagreeable good advice is!" thought the girl. "Dear old thing! But it is so dull at sea—one must do something. I do wish though Mr. Dutton wouldn't try to spoon—he was awfully nice before he thought of it."
Of course these two drew together again next day, and, though Bluebell still evaded with Madonna eyes all approach to love-making, the lieutenant accepted the situation, and contented himself with flirting sous le nom d'amitié.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
ROUGH WEATHER.
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair,
And still as I comb'd, I would sing and say,
"Who is it loves me? who loves not me?"
One day there was a gale. It came up suddenly, and some ladies sitting on a bench were swept off by a roll and sudden lurch. The deck was soon cleared of the feminine element, with the exception of Bluebell, who enjoyed an immunity from malheur de mer, and knew she would not be much better off in her cabin, where Mrs. Oliphant had gradually ousted her from everything but sleeping accommodation.
A huge roller had hurled itself over the steerage, and broken a man's arm; but the part of the vessel she was on kept pretty dry. Stormy petrels were hovering in flocks; the ship, plunging head foremost into deep troughs, seemed as if it must break its back or be swallowed up, but always borne on the crest of a wave only to repeat the header next minute.
Bluebell was lying (for no other position could be preserved) on some rigs by the wheel, and holding on by a rope to prevent sliding about. She felt excited by the grandeur of the situation, and, in the pauses of the wind, sang low some wild German Volkslied.
"Are you a Lorelei?" asked Mr. Dutton, who was never far off. "What do you intend to do with the steamer?"
"I don't mean any harm to the ship, but I shan't lull the winds yet. How delightful and magnificent it is!"
"If you really don't mean to engulf us, and won't comb your golden hair, pray go on singing. I'll risk it."
Bluebell nodded, and gave full play to her magnificent voice in the wildest Lieder she could remember. The man at the wheel, if he had ever heard of a Lorelei, might have been excused for mistaking her for one. A lady to sit and sing in such a gale was not an every-day experience. Her bright hair was only covered by the hood of a deep-blue cloak, from which her large eyes seemed to have caught a reflection, so dark were the pupils dilated with enthusiasm.
"You might be a corsair's bride," said Mr. Dutton, admiringly, "you are so indifferent to discomfort and danger. I can't fancy you shut up in a poky school-room, taking regular walks, and teaching Dr. Watts to tiresome children."
"I have only one pupil of a musical and romantic turn. You are altogether wrong in thinking me indifferent to luxury; I am quite longing to be in a comfortable house again."
"Your penance will be over in a day or two. Why do you stay out to be drenched with spray and perished with cold?" very discontentedly.
"How can I be either with all these wraps? and, when you are not sulky, your society is preferable to Mrs. Oliphant's!"
"Yes; that is about my place in your—what shall I call it? Regard is a nice, proper word,—just more acceptable than the plainest and most spiteful woman on board."
"Rather more than that," said Bluebell, gently. "It would have been far worse without you; but after this voyage we are not likely to meet again, though I shall never think of it without remembering my friend."
"What a nice word!" savagely. "Why don't you add,—
Do you know that song, Miss Leigh?"
"Yes," laughing.
Pause by my tombstone, and pity thy friend.'
It's enough to draw tears from one's eyes."
"Well!" said the lieutenant, "I never met a Canadian girl before, but I see now they are the coldest, most insensible—oh! of course, you only laugh. How do you know we shall never meet again? Suppose I call on you in your new—situation."
"Governesses are not allowed 'followers.' I mean, male visitors would be considered as such."
"Couldn't I get a tutorship in the same family?"
"There are no boys. Gracious! what a wave. Surely it is getting rougher, Mr. Dutton?"
"Well, yes. I think I must take you down. The next roller may wash over you. Lean all your weight on me, or you'll be blown off your feet."
In a most incoherent manner she reached the gangway, and, clinging to the banisters, reeled into her cabin, where was Mrs. Oliphant in hysterics. The stewardess was in attendance, and she was insisting on her immediately fetching the captain, as, without his assurance that there was no danger, she declined to be calm.
"As if the captain could leave his bridge!" said Bluebell, laughing. "And I am sure the ship would go down if he did."
Another shriek from Mrs. Oliphant, who, with a desperate effort, seized on a life-belt, and called to the stewardess to assist in its adjustment.
"Oh, dear!" cried Bluebell. "And what is to become of me? However, you are quite welcome to it. I had sooner be drowned at once than bob about on a wave, with sharks nibbling at my toes for an hour or two previously."
"Perhaps, ma'am, now this young lady be come, who seems to have a good heart," said the stewardess, "you will let me go to Mrs. Preston and Mrs. Butler, who have been wanting me ever so long."
"No; I will not be deserted. Mrs. Butler has her husband and Mrs. Preston has her maid."
"Oh, she is worse than all! She sent down for Mrs. Preston to come up and speak to her, as she was dying as fast as she could, and the poor lady couldn't as much as lift her own 'ead."
"And you are not so very bad," said Bluebell, encouragingly. "Think of Mrs. Dove, of the 100th 'Scatterers,' and don't give way."
So, partly by laughing and partly by gentle determination, she brought her round, and favoured the escape of the stewardess.
It was not a very agreeable task soothing this selfish and cowardly woman; and she was by no means assured that there was no cause for anxiety. Her thoughts reverted to Bertie. Suppose they were all drowned. In theory she hoped Cecil would be happy with him. Still there was a soupçon of gratification in imagining him mourning in secret anguish and remorse over her untimely end. She remembered his favourite poem in the "Wanderer" that Cecil used to read, and the lines,—
How I could forgive her and love her."
Only in this instance forgiveness was more due from her.
Mr. Dutton here knocked at the door, to offer to help them up stairs to dinner; but Mrs. Oliphant had dropped asleep, exhausted by her emotions, so they went up alone. Only a few gentlemen were in the saloon, and the widow lady, whom everybody had begun to like, she was so unselfish and contented.
Dinner was consumed in a picnic fashion. Bluebell's modicum of sherry had to be tossed off at once in a tumbler, for the glasses were dancing a hornpipe on the table, plates required a restraining hand, and their contents to be conveyed to the mouth with as much accuracy of aim as was attainable.
She thought compassionately of the careworn mother of H'Emma, who probably would have been quite neglected during the gale, and determined to take her something, and get Mr. Dutton to carry it and steady her own footsteps. Nothing could exceed the discomfort in which they found them. The nursery-maid was imbecile from terror and prostrate with sickness, and the harassed mother doing the best she could.
To begin with, H'Emma had received a whipping, which, however undeserved, was probably the most judicious course, by inspiring fortitude, and cutting off all hopes of undue indulgence.
The poor woman was very grateful for the visit. "No one had been near them," she said; "and the girl was so frightened, and H'Emma had screamed so, she was at her wits' end."
"I am surprised at you, Emma!" said Mr. Dutton. "When, you are grown up you may be as frightened as you please; but if you don't practise self-command as a child, you'll be very properly whipped."
At this allusion to her misfortunes another howl seemed impending, only that her attention was arrested by an orange tossed carelessly in the air.
"Whoever catches it may have it. Don't look at mamma; she has abdicated for the present, and we are here to put the kingdom to rights. Don't you think, Emma," in a whisper, "it would be a very good thing if that squalling, bald-headed young fraternity of yours were slapped?"
"Mammy says it is his teeth."
"No reason he should set ours on edge. I'd compose him if I had the chance! Well, Miss Leigh, if I can't fetch anything else for this lady, I'll go on deck, and return presently to report progress and help you back again."
The storm raged for many hours more, and struck terror into the hearts of the women and children. Mr. Dutton and some of the other gentlemen were up all night, as well as the captain and officers; but the morning rose calm and delicious over a sleeping sea, and cheerfulness and high spirits reigned in the ship. They were within a day of land, too—a more welcome prospect than ever, after the perils and dangers of the night. The dinner-table had scarcely an absentee, and was far more lively than it had ever been yet.
"One can sleep comfortably to-night, being so near land," cried the thoughtless Mrs. Butler.
"There have been more shipwrecks off the coast of Ireland than any other," said Mr. Dutton, sardonically. He was the only one who did not display unmixed delight at reaching England; and, when other people are exuberantly rejoicing at the very thing that is annoying ourselves, to moderate their transports a little is a satisfaction.
"Oh, how can you be so shocking! But I don't believe you. Once we are in sight of land, if there were any danger, what would prevent us getting into boats and rowing to it?"
And then Mr. Dutton plunged into a ghastly tale of a steamer that had struck on the Irish coast at night, and the passengers had to take to the boats in their bed-clothes. One poor mother, with a baby tied on her back with a shawl, and another child in her arms, found the shawl empty, the infant having slipped out into the sea; and how they remained beating about for hours before they could land, nearly perished with cold from insufficient clothing.
Everybody seemed provided with similar anecdotes, and yarn succeeded yarn till late in the evening, when a message from the captain that Ireland was in sight brought them all on deck. The moon was shining softly over the beautiful mountains and valleys of ——. A more exquisite little picture could hardly have been presented to the eye wearied of perpetual gazing on the pathless ocean. Exclamations of delight were heard on all sides, while some prosaically remarked it was almost as fine as scenes in "Peep o' Day" or "The Colleen Bawn." To Bluebell it was fairy-land. To begin with, she had never seen a mountain, and the picturesque in Canada is on too large a scale for the little details that give beauty to scenery. Her conception of the Emerald Isle, founded on Lover's ballads and Lever's romances, was completely realized.
"How haunting!" said she, in a hushed whisper. "What a pity to go any further, and be disenchanted, perhaps!"
"I wish," said Mr. Dutton, "you would think you might go further and fare worse in another case,"—which ambiguous speech, it must be supposed, was not intended to be taken literally; for, though youthful susceptibility and propinquity had given birth to a hasty passion, and he was savage enough at the prospect of parting, to a young man dependent on an uncle and residing chiefly at sea a penniless wife might have its embarrassments.
Bluebell had glided down the companion again. The mails were landed, the pilot came on board, and next morning they were steaming into the Mersey. Many of the passengers had got letters, and were talking of their plans and fussing about luggage.
"How refreshing it is to see some one without that business look!" cried Mr. Dutton to Bluebell, who was leisurely reading in the saloon. "But have you no goods or chattels, Miss Leigh? And ought not you to have a letter with sailing orders?"
"I have two boxes somewhere in the hold. No, I didn't expect a letter, I was to telegraph at Liverpool, and come right off. This is the address:—