Some weeks after Frank had left home, while lady Harriet and Major Graham were absent at Holiday House, Harry and Laura felt surprised to observe, that Mrs. Crabtree suddenly became very grave and silent,—her voice seemed to have lost half its loudness,—her countenance looked rather pale,—and they both escaped being scolded on several occasions, when Harry himself could not but think he deserved it. Once or twice he ventured to do things that at other times he dared not have attempted, “merely as an experiment,” he said, “like that man in the menagerie, who put his head into the lion’s mouth, without feeling quite sure whether it would be bit off the next moment or not;” but though Mrs. Crabtree evidently saw all that passed, she turned away with a look of sadness, and said not a word.

What could be the matter? Harry almost wished she would fly into a good passion and scold him, it became so extraordinary and unnatural to see Mrs. Crabtree sitting all day in a corner of the room, sewing in silence, and scarcely looking up from her work; but still the wonder grew, for [204] she seemed to become worse and worse every day. Harry dressed up the cat in an old cap and frock of Laura’s,—he terrified old Jowler by putting him into the shower-bath,—and let off a few crackers at the nursery window,—but it seemed as if he might have fired a cannon without being scolded by Mrs. Crabtree, who merely turned her head round for a minute, and then silently resumed her work. Laura even fancied that Mrs. Crabtree was once in tears, but that seemed quite impossible, so she thought no more about it, till one morning, when they had begun to despair of ever hearing more about the business, and were whispering together in a corner of the room, observing that she looked duller than ever, they were surprised to hear Mrs. Crabtree calling them both to come near her. She looked very pale, and was beginning to say something, when her voice suddenly became so husky and indistinct, that she seemed unable to proceed; therefore, motioning with her hand for them to go away, she began sewing very rapidly, as she had done before, breaking her threads, and pricking her fingers, at every stitch.

Laura and Harry silently looked at each other with some apprehension, and the nursery now became so perfectly still, that a feather falling on the ground would have been heard. This had continued for some time, when at last Laura upon tiptoe stole quietly up to where Mrs. Crabtree was sitting, and said to her, in a very kind and anxious voice, “I am afraid you are not well, Mrs. Crabtree! Grandmama will send for a doctor when she comes home. Shall I ask her?”

“You are very kind, Miss Laura!—never mind me! Your grandmama knows what is the matter. It will be all one a hundred years hence,” answered Mrs. Crabtree, in a low husky voice. “This is a thing you will be very glad to hear!—you must prepare to be told some good news!” added she, forcing a laugh, but such a laugh as [205] Harry and Laura never heard before, for it sounded so much more like sorrow than joy. They waited in great suspense to hear what would follow, but Mrs. Crabtree, after struggling to speak again with composure, suddenly started off her seat, and hurried rapidly out of the room. She appeared no more in the nursery that day, but next morning when they were at breakfast, she entered the room with her face very much covered up in her bonnet, and evidently tried to speak in her usual loud bustling voice, though somehow it still sounded perfectly different from common. “Well, children! Lady Harriet was so kind as to promise that my secret should be kept till I pleased, and that no one should mention it to you but myself. I am going away!”

“You!” exclaimed Harry, looking earnestly in Mrs. Crabtree’s face. “Are you going away?”

“Yes, Master Harry,—I leave this house to-day! Now, don’t pretend to look sorry! I know you are not! I can’t bear children to tell stories. Who would ever be sorry for a cross old woman like me?”

“But perhaps I am sorry! Are you in real earnest going away?” asked Harry again, with renewed astonishment. “Oh no! it is only a joke!”

“Do I look as if this were a joke?” asked Mrs. Crabtree, turning round her face, which was bathed with tears. “No, no! I am come to bid you both a long farewell. A fine mess you will get into now! All your things going to rack and ruin, with nobody fit to look after them!”

“But, Mrs. Crabtree! we do not like you to go away,” said Laura, kindly. “Why are you leaving us all on a sudden? it is very odd! I never was so surprised in my life!”

“Your papa’s orders are come. He wrote me a line some weeks ago, to say that I have been too severe. Perhaps that is all true. I meant it well, and we are poor [206] creatures, who can only act for the best. However, it can’t be helped now! There’s no use in lamenting over spilt cream. You’ll be the better behaved afterwards. If ever you think of me again, children, let it be as kindly as possible. Many and many a time I shall remember you both. I never cared for any young people but yourselves, and I shall never take charge of any others. Master Frank was the best boy in the world, and you would both have been as good under my care,—but it is no matter now!”

“But it does matter a very great deal,” cried Harry, eagerly. “You must stay here, Mrs. Crabtree, as long as you live, and a great deal longer! I shall write a letter to papa all about it. We were very troublesome, and it was our own faults if we were punished. Never mind, Mrs. Crabtree, but take off your bonnet and sit down! I am going to do some dreadful mischief to-night, so you will be wanted to keep me in order.”

Mrs. Crabtree laid her hand upon Harry’s head in silence, and there was something so solemn and serious in her manner, that he saw it would be useless to remonstrate any more. She then held out her hand to Laura, endeavouring to smile as she did so, but it was a vain attempt, for her lip quivered, and she turned away, saying, “Who would ever believe I should make such a fool of myself! Farewell to you both! and let nobody speak ill of me after I am gone, if you can help it!”

Without looking round, Mrs. Crabtree hurried out of the nursery and closed the door, leaving Harry and Laura perfectly bewildered with astonishment at this sudden event, which seemed more like a dream than a reality. They both felt exceedingly melancholy, hardly able to believe that she had formerly been at all cross, while they stood at the window with tears in their eyes, watching the departure of her well-known blue chest, on a wheel-barrow, and taking a [207] last look of her red gown and scarlet shawl as she hastily followed it.

For several weeks to come, whenever the door opened, Harry and Laura almost expected her to enter, but month after month elapsed, and Mrs. Crabtree appeared no more, till one day, at their earnest entreaty, Lady Harriet took them a drive of some miles into the country, to see the neat little lodging by the sea-side where she lived, and maintained herself by sewing, and by going out occasionally as a sick-nurse. A more delightful surprise certainly never could have been given than when Harry and Laura tapped at the cottage door, which was opened by Mrs. Crabtree herself, who started back with an exclamation of joyful amazement, and looked as if she could scarcely believe her eyes on beholding them, while they laughed at the joke till tears were running down their cheeks. “Is Mrs. Crabtree at home?” said Harry, trying to look very grave.

“Grandmama says we may stay here for an hour, while she drives along the shore,” added Laura, stepping into the house with a very merry face. “And how do you do, Mrs. Crabtree?”

“Very well, Miss Laura, and very happy to see you. What a tall girl you are become! and Master Harry too! looking quite over his own shoulders!”

After sitting some time, Mrs. Crabtree insisted on their having some dinner in her cottage; so making Harry and Laura sit down on each side of a large blazing fire, she cooked some most delicious pancakes for them in rapid succession, as fast as they could eat, tossing them high in the air first, and then rolling up each as it was fried, with a large spoonful of jam in the centre, till Harry and Laura at last said, that unless Mrs. Crabtree supplied fresh appetites, she need make no more pancakes, for they thought even Peter Grey himself could scarcely have finished all she provided.

[208]
Harry had now been several months constantly attending school, where he became a great favourite with the boys, and a great torment to the masters, while, for his own part, he liked it twenty times better than he had expected, because the lessons were tolerably easy to a clever boy, as he really was, and the games at cricket and foot-ball in the play-ground put him perfectly wild with joy. Every boy at school seemed to be his particular friend, and many called him “the holiday-maker,” because, if ever a holiday was wished for, Harry always became leader in the scheme. The last morning of Peter Grey’s appearing at school, he got the name of “the copper captain,” because Mr. Lexicon having fined him half-a-crown, for not knowing one of his lessons, he brought the whole sum in half-pence, carrying them in his hat, and gravely counting them all out, with such a pains-taking, good-boy look, that any one, to see him, would have supposed he was quite penitent and sorry for his misconduct; but no sooner had he finished the task and ranged all the half-pence neatly in rows along Mr. Lexicon’s desk, than he was desired, in a voice of thunder, to leave the room instantly, and never to return, which accordingly he never did, having started next day on the top of the coach for Portsmouth, and the last peep Harry got of him, he was buying a perfect mountain of gingerbread out of an old man’s basket, to eat by the way.

Meantime Laura had lessons from a regular day-governess, who came every morning at seven, and never disappeared till four in the afternoon, so, as Mrs. Crabtree remarked, “the puir thing was perfectly deaved wi’ edication,” but she made such rapid progress, that uncle David said it would be difficult to decide whether she was growing fastest in body or in mind. Laura seemed born to be under the tuition of none but ill-tempered people, and Madame Pirouette appeared in a constant state of irritability. During the music-lessons, she sat close to the piano, with a pair of sharp-pointed [209] scissors in her hand, and whenever Laura played a wrong note, she stuck their points into the offending finger, saying sometimes in an angry foreign accent, “put your toe upon ’dis note! I tell you, put your toe upon ’dis note!”

“My finger, I suppose you mean?” asked Laura, trying not to laugh.

“Ah! fingare and toe! dat is all one! Speak not a word! take hold of your tongue.”

“Laura!” said Major Graham, one day, “I would as soon hear a gong sounded at my ear for half an hour, as most of the fine pieces you perform now. Taste and expression are quite out of date, but the chief object of ambition is, to seem as if you had four hands instead of two, from the torrent of notes produced at once. If ever you wish to please my old-fashioned ears, give me melody,—something that touches the heart and dwells in the memory,—then years afterwards, when we hear it again, the language seems familiar to our feelings, and we listen with deep delight to sounds recalling a thousand recollections of former days, which are brought back by music (real music) with distinctness and interest which nothing else can equal.”

During more than two years, while Harry and Laura were rapidly advancing in education, they received many interesting letters from Frank, expressing the most affectionate anxiety to hear of their being well and happy, while his paper was filled with amusing accounts of the various wonderful countries he visited; and at the bottom of the paper, he always very kindly remembered to send them an order on his banker, as he called uncle David, drawn up in proper form, saying, “Please to pay Master Harry and Miss Laura Graham the sum of five shillings on my account. Francis Arthur Graham.”

In Frank’s gay, merry epistles, he kept all his little annoyances or vexations to himself, and invariably took up the pen with such a desire to send cheerfulness into his own [210] beloved home, that his letters might have been written with a sun-beam, they were so full of warmth and vivacity. It seemed always a fair wind to Frank, for he looked upon the best side of every thing, and never teazed his absent friends with complaints of distresses they could not remedy, except when he frequently mentioned his sorrow at being separated from them, adding, that he often wished it were possible to meet them during one day in every year, to tell all his thoughts, and to hear theirs in return, for sometimes now, during the night watches, when all other resources failed, he entertained himself, by imagining the circle of home all gathered around him, and by inventing what each individual would say upon any subjects he liked, while all his adventures acquired a double interest, from considering that the recital would one day amuse his dear friends when their happy meeting at last took place. Frank was not so over-anxious about his own comfort, as to feel very much irritated and discomposed at any privations that fell in his way, and once sitting up in the middle of a dark night, with the rain pouring in torrents, and the wind blowing a perfect hurricane, he drew his watch-coat round him, saying good humouredly to his grumbling companions, “This is by no means so bad! and whatever change takes place now, will probably be for the better. Sunshine is as sure to come as Christmas, if you only wait for it, and in the meantime we are all more comfortably off than St. Patrick, when he had to swim across a stormy sea, with his head under his arm.”

Frank often amused his messmates with stories which he had heard from uncle David, and soon became the greatest favourite imaginable with them all, while he frequently endeavoured to lead their minds to the same sure foundation of happiness which he always found the best security of his own. He had long been taught to know that a vessel might as well be steered without rudder or compass, as any [211] individual be brought into a haven of peace, unless directed by the Holy Scriptures; and his delight was frequently to study such passages as these: “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.”

[212]
CHAPTER XV.
 
 
AN UNEXPECTED VOYAGE.

As Harry and Laura grew older, they were gradually treated like friends and companions by Lady Harriet and Major Graham, who improved their minds by frequent interesting conversations, in which knowledge and principle were insensibly instilled into their minds, not by formal instruction, but merely by mentioning facts, or expressing opinions and sentiments such as naturally arose out of the subjects under discussion, and accustoming the young people themselves to feel certain that their own remarks and thoughts were to be heard with the same interest as those of any other person. No surprise was expressed, if they appeared more acute or more amusing than might have been expected,—no angry contempt betrayed itself if they spoke foolishly, unless it were something positively wrong; and thus Major Graham and Lady Harriet succeeded in making that very difficult transition from treating children as toys, to becoming their confidential friends, [213] and most trusted, as well as most respected and beloved associates.

Frank had been upwards of five years cruizing on various stations abroad, and many officers who had seen him, gave such agreeable reports to Major Graham of his admirable conduct on several occasions, and of his having turned out so extremely handsome and pleasing, that Lady Harriet often wished, with tears in her eyes, it were possible she might live to see him once again, though her own daily increasing infirmities rendered that hope every hour more improbable. She was told that he spoke of her very frequently, and said once when he met an aged person at the Cape, “I would give all I possess on earth, and ten times more, if I had it, to see my dear grandmother as well, and to meet her once more.” This deeply affected Lady Harriet, who was speaking one day with unusual earnestness of the comfort it gave, whatever might be the will of Providence in respect to herself, that Frank seemed so happy, and liked his profession so well, when the door flew open, and Andrew hastened into the room, his old face perfectly wrinkled with delight, while he displayed a letter in his hand, saying in a tone of breathless agitation, as he delivered it to Major Graham, “The post-mark is Portsmouth, Sir!”

Lady Harriet nearly rose from her seat with an exclamation of joy, but unable for the exertion, she sunk back, covering her face with her hands, and listening in speechless suspense to hear whether Frank had indeed returned. Harry and Laura eagerly looked over Major Graham’s shoulder, and Andrew lingered anxiously at the door, till this welcome letter was hurriedly torn open and read. The direction was certainly Frank’s writing, though it seemed very different from usual, but the contents filled Major Graham with a degree of consternation and alarm, which he vainly endeavoured to conceal, for it informed him that, during a desperate engagement with some slave-ships off the coast of Africa, [214] Frank had been most severely wounded, from which he scarcely recovered before a violent attack of fever reduced him so extremely, that the doctors declared his only chance of restoration was to be invalided home immediately; “therefore,” added he, “you must all unite a prayer for my recovery, with a thanksgiving for my return, and I can scarcely regret an illness that restores me to home. My heart is already with you all, but my frail shattered body must rest some days in London, as the voyage from Sierra Leone has been extremely fatiguing and tedious.”

Lady Harriet made not a single remark when this letter was closed, but tears coursed each other rapidly down her aged cheeks, while she slowly removed her hands from her face, and gazed at Major Graham, who seated himself by her side, in evident agitation, and calling back Andrew when he was leaving the room, he said, in accents of unusual emotion, “Desire John to inquire immediately whether any steam-boat sails for London to-day.”

“You are right!” said Lady Harriet, feebly. “Oh! that I could accompany you! But bring him to me if possible. I dare not hope to go. Surely we shall meet at last. Now indeed I feel my own weakness, when I cannot fly to see him. But he will be quite able for the journey. Frank had an excellent constitution,—he—he was—”

Lady Harriet’s voice failed, and she burst into a convulsive agony of tears.

A few hours, and uncle David had embarked for London, where, after a short passage, he arrived at his usual lodgings in St. James’ Place; but some days elapsed, during which he laboured in vain to discover the smallest trace of Frank, who had omitted, in his hurried letter from Portsmouth, to mention where he intended living in town. One evening, fatigued with his long and unavailing search, Major Graham sat down, at the British Coffee-house, to take some refreshment before resuming his inquiries, and was afterwards [215] about to leave the room, when he observed a very tall interesting young man, exceedingly emaciated, who strolled languidly into the room, with so feeble a step, that he scarcely seemed able to support himself. The stranger took off his hat, sunk into a seat, and passed his fingers through the dark masses of curls that hung over his pale white forehead, his large eyes closed heavily with fatigue, his cheek assumed a hectic glow, and his head sunk upon his hand. In a low subdued voice he gave some directions to the waiter, and Major Graham, after gazing for a moment with melancholy interest at this apparently consumptive youth, was about to depart, when a turn of the young man’s countenance caused him to start; he looked again more earnestly—every fibre of his frame seemed suddenly to thrill with apprehension, and at last, in a voice of doubt and astonishment, he exclaimed, “Frank!”

The stranger sprung from his seat, gazed eagerly round the room, rushed into the arms of Major Graham, and fainted.

Long and anxiously did uncle David watch for the restoration of Frank, while every means were used to revive him, and when at length he did regain his consciousness, no time was lost in conveying him to St. James’ Place, where, after being confined to bed, and attended by Sir Astley Cooper and Sir Henry Halford, during some days, they united in recommending that he should be carried some miles out of town, to the neighbourhood of Hammersmith, for change of air, till the effect of medicine and diet could be fully tried. Frank earnestly entreated that he might be taken immediately to his own home, but this the doctors pronounced quite impossible, privately hinting to Major Graham that it seemed very doubtful indeed whether he could ever be moved there at all, or whether he might survive above a few months.

“Home is anywhere that my own family live with me,” [216] said Frank in a tone of resignation, when he heard a journey to Scotland pronounced impossible. “It is not where I am, but who I see, that signifies; and this meeting with you, uncle David, did me more good than an ocean of physic. Oh! if I could only converse with grandmama for half-an-hour, and speak to dear Harry and Laura, it would be too much happiness. I want to see how much they are both grown, and to hear their merry laugh again. Perhaps I never may! But if I get worse, they must come here. I have many things to say! Why should they not set off now?—immediately! If I recover, we might be such a happy party to Scotland again. For grandmama, I know it is impossible; but will you write and ask her about Harry and Laura? The sooner the better, uncle David, because I often think it probable——”

Frank coloured and hesitated; he looked earnestly at his uncle for some moments, who saw what was meant, and then added,

“There is one person more, far distant, and little thinking of what is to come, who must be told. You have always been a father to me, uncle David, but he also would wish to be here now. Little as we have been together, I know how much he loves me.”

Frank’s request became no sooner known than it was complied with by Lady Harriet, who thought it better not to distress Harry and Laura, by mentioning the full extent of his danger, but merely said, that he felt impatient for the meeting, and that they might prepare on the following day, to embark under charge of old Andrew and her own maid Harrison, for a voyage to London, where she hoped they would find the dear invalid already better; Laura was astonished at the agitation with which she spoke, and felt bewildered and amazed by this sudden announcement. She and Harry had once or twice in their lives caught cold, and spent a day in bed, confined to a diet of gruel and syrup, [217] which always proved an infallible remedy for the very worst attacks, and they had frequently witnessed the severe sufferings of their grandmama, from which, however, she always recovered, and which seemed to them the natural effects of her extreme old age; but to imagine the possibility of Frank’s life being in actual danger, never crossed their thoughts for an instant, and, therefore, it was with a feeling of unutterable joy that they stood on the deck of the Royal Pandemonium, knowing that they were now actually going to meet Frank.

Nothing could be a greater novelty to both the young travellers than the scene by which they were now surrounded; trumpets were sounding—bells ringing—children crying—sailors, passengers, carriages, dogs, and baggage all hurrying on board pell-mell, while a jet of steam came bellowing forth from the waste-pipe, as if it were struggling to get rid of the huge column of black smoke vomited forth by the chimney. Below stairs they were still more astonished to find a large cabin, covered with gilding, red damask, and mirrors, where crowds of strange-looking people, more than half sick, and very cross, were scolding and bustling about, bawling for their carpet bags, and trying to be of as much consequence as possible, while they ate and drank trash, to keep off sea-sickness, that might have made any one sick on shore—sipping brandy and water, or eating peppermint drops, according as the case required. Among those in the ladies’ cabin, Laura and Harry were amused to discover Miss Perceval, who had hastened into bed already, in case of being ill, and was talking unceasingly to any one who would listen, besides ordering and scolding a poor sick maid, scarcely able to stand. Her head was enveloped in a most singular night-cap, ornamented with old ribbons and artificial flowers—she wore a bright yellow shawl, and had taken into the berth beside her, a little Blenheim spaniel—a parrot—and a cage of canary birds, the noisy [218] inhabitants of which sung at the full pitch of their voices till the very latest hour of the night, being kept awake by the lamp which swung from side to side, while nothing could be compared to their volubility except the perpetual clamour occasioned by Miss Perceval herself.

“I declare these little narrow beds are no better than coffins! I never saw such places! and the smell is like singed blankets and cabbages boiled in melted oil! It is enough to make anybody ill! Mary! go and fetch me a cup of tea, and, do you hear! tell those people on deck not to make such a noise—it gives me a headache! Be sure you say that I shall complain to the Captain. Reach me some bread and milk for the parrot,—fetch my smelling bottle,—go to the saloon for that book I was reading,—and search again for the pocket-handkerchief I mislaid. It cost ten guineas, and must be found. I hope no one has stolen it! Now do make haste with the tea! What are you dawdling there for? If you do not stop that noise on deck, Mary, I shall be exceedingly displeased! Some of those horrid people in the steerage were smoking too, but tell the Captain that if I come up he must forbid them. It is a trick to make us all sick and save provisions. I observed a gun-case in the saloon too, which is a most dangerous thing, for guns always go off when you least expect. If any one fires, I shall fall into hysterics. I shall, indeed! What a creaking noise the vessel makes! I hope there is no danger of its splitting! We ought not to go on sailing after dusk. The Captain must positively cast anchor during the night, that we may have no more of this noise or motion, but sleep in peace and quietness till morning.”

Soon after the Royal Pandemonium had set sail, or rather set fire, the wind freshened, and the pitching of the vessel became so rough, that Harry and Laura, with great difficulty, staggered to seats on the deck, leaving both Lady Harriet’s servants so very sick below, that instead of being able [219] to attend on them, they gave nine times the trouble that any other passenger did on board, and were not visible again during the whole voyage. The two young travellers now sat down together, and watched, with great curiosity, several groups of strangers on deck: ladies, half sick, trying to entertain gentlemen in seal-skin travelling caps and pale cadaverous countenances, smoking cigars; others opening baskets of provisions, and eating with good sea-faring appetite; while one party had a carriage on the deck so filled with luxuries of every kind, that there seemed no end to the multitude of Perigord pies, German sausages, cold fowls, pastry, and fruit that were produced during the evening. The owners had a table spread on the deck, and ate voraciously, before a circle of hungry spectators, which had such an appearance of selfishness and gluttony, that both his young friends thought immediately of Peter Grey.

As evening closed in, Harry and Laura began to feel very desolate thus for the first time in their lives alone, while the wide waste of waters around made the scene yet more forlorn. They had enjoyed unmingled delight in talking over and over about their happy meeting with Frank, and planned a hundred times how joyfully they would rush into the house, and with what pleasure they would relate all that happened to themselves, after hearing from his own mouth the extraordinary adventures which his letters had described. Laura produced from her reticule several of the last she had received, and laughed again over the funny jokes and stories they contained, inventing many new questions to ask him on the subject, and fancying she already heard his voice, and saw his bright and joyous countenance. But now the night had grown so dark and chilly, that both Harry and Laura felt themselves gradually becoming cold, melancholy, and dejected. They made an effort to walk arm-in-arm up and down the deck, in imitation of the few other passengers who had been able to remain out of bed, and they tried [220] still to talk cheerfully, but in spite of every effort, their thoughts became mournful. After clinging together for some time, and staggering up and down, without feeling in spirits to speak, they were still shiveringly cold, yet unwilling to separate for the night, when Harry suddenly stood still, grasping Laura’s arm with a look of startled astonishment, which caused her hastily to glance round in the direction where he was eagerly gazing, but nothing became visible except the dim outline of a woman’s figure, rolled up in several enormous shawls, and with her bonnet slouched far over her face.

“I am certain it was her!” whispered Harry, in a tone of breathless amazement; “almost certain!”

“Who?” asked Laura, eagerly.

Without answering, Harry sprung forward, and seized the unknown person by the arm, who instantly looked round.——It was Mrs. Crabtree!

“I am sorry you observed me, Master Harry! I did not intend to trouble you and Miss Laura during the voyage,” said she, turning her face slowly towards him, when, to his surprise, he saw that the traces of tears were on her cheek, and her manner appeared so subdued, and altogether so different from former times, that Laura could scarcely yet credit her senses. “I shall not be at all in your way, children, but I —— —— I must see Master Frank again. He was always too good for this world, and he’ll not be here long—Andrew told me all about it, and I could not stay behind. I wish we were all as well prepared, and then the sooner we die the better.”

Harry and Laura listened in speechless consternation to these words. The very idea of losing Frank had never before crossed their imaginations for a moment, and they could have wished to believe that what Mrs. Crabtree said was like the ravings of delirium, yet an irresistible feeling of awe and alarm rushed into their minds.

[221]
“Miss Laura! if you want any help in undressing, call to me at any time. I was sure that doited body Harrison could be of no service. She never was fit to take care of herself, and far less of such as you. It put me wild to think of your coming all this way with nobody fit to look after you, and then the distress that must follow.”

“But surely, Mrs. Crabtree, you do not think Frank so very ill,” asked Laura, making an effort to recover her voice, and speaking in a tone of deep anxiety; “he had recovered from the fever, but is only rather too weak for travelling.”

“Well, Miss Laura! grief always comes too soon, and I would have held my tongue had I thought you did not know the worst already. If I might order as in former days, it would be to send you both down directly, out of this heavy fog and cold wind.”

“But you may order us, Mrs. Crabtree,” said Harry, taking her kindly by the hand; “we are very glad to see you again! and I shall do whatever you bid me! So you came all this way on purpose for us! How very kind!”

“Master Harry, I would go round the wide world to serve any one of you! who else have I to care for? But it was chiefly to see Master Frank. Let us hope the best, and pray to be prepared for any event that may come. All things are ordained for good, and we can only make the best of what happens. The world must go round,—it must go round, and we can’t prevent it.”

Harry and Laura hung their heads in dismay, for there was something agitated and solemn in Mrs. Crabtree’s manner, which astonished and shocked them, so they hurried silently to bed; and Laura’s pillow was drenched with tears of anxiety and distress that night, though gradually, as she thought of Frank’s bright colour and sparkling eyes, his joyous spirits and unbroken health, it seemed impossible that all were so soon to fade away, that the wind should [222] have already passed over them, and they were gone, till by degrees her mind became more calm; her hopes grew into certainties; she told herself twenty times over, that Mrs. Crabtree must be entirely mistaken, and at last sunk into a restless agitated slumber.

Next day the sun shone, the sky was clear, and every thing appeared so full of life and joy, that Harry and Laura would have fancied the whole scene with Mrs. Crabtree a distressing dream, had they not been awakened to recollection before six in the morning, by the sound of her voice, angrily rebuking Miss Perceval and other ladies, who with too good reason, were grumbling at the hardship of sleeping, or rather vainly attempting to sleep, in such narrow uncomfortable dog-holes. Laura heard Mrs. Crabtree conclude an eloquent oration on the subject of contentment, by saying, “Indeed, ladies! many a brave man, and noblemen’s sons too, have laid their heads on the green grass, fighting for you, so we should put up with a hard bed patiently for one night.”

Miss Perceval turned angrily away, and summoned her maid to receive a multitude of new directions. “Mary, tell the Captain that when I looked out last, there was scarcely any smoke coming out of the funnel, so I am sure he is saving fuel, and not keeping good enough fires to carry us on! I never knew such shabbiness! Tell the engineer, that I insist on his throwing on more coals immediately. Bring me some hot water, as fast as possible! These towels are so coarse, I cannot, on any account, use them. After being accustomed to such pocket-handkerchiefs as mine, at ten guineas each, one does become particular. Can you not find a larger basin? This looks like a soup-plate, and it seems impossible here to get enough of hot water to wash comfortably.”

“She should be put into the boiler of the steam-boat,” muttered Mrs. Crabtree. “I wish them animal-magnifying [223] doctors would put the young lady to sleep till we arrive in London.”

“Now!” continued Miss Perceval, “get me another cup of tea. The last was too sweet, the one before not strong enough, and the first half cold, but this is worse than any. Do remember to mention, that yesterday night the steward sent up a tin tea-pot, a thing I cannot possibly suffer again. We must have the urn, too, instead of that black tea-kettle; and desire him to prepare some butter-toast—I am not hungry, so three rounds will be enough. Let me have some green tea this time; and see that the cream is better than last night, when I am certain it was thickened with chalk or snails. The jelly, too, was execrable, for it tasted like sticking-plaster—I shall starve if better can’t be had; and the table-cloth looked like a pair of old sheets. Tell the steward all this, and say, he must get my breakfast ready on deck in half an hour; but meantime, I shall sit here with a book while you brush my hair.”

The sick persecuted maid seemed anxious to do all she was bid; so, after delivering as many of the messages as possible, she tried to stand up and do Miss Perceval’s hair, but the motion of the vessel had greatly increased, and she turned as pale as death, apparently on the point of sinking to the ground, when Laura, now quite dressed, quietly slipped the brush out of her hand, and carefully brushed Miss Perceval’s thin locks, while poor Mary silently dropped upon a seat, being perfectly faint with sickness.

Miss Perceval read on, without observing the change of abigails, till Harry, who had watched this whole scene from the cabin-door, made a hissing noise, such as grooms do when they currycomb a horse, which caused the young lady to look hastily round, when great was Miss Perceval’s astonishment to discover her new abigail, with a very pains-taking look, brushing her hair, while poor Mary lay more dead than alive on the benches. “Well! I declare! was [224] there ever anything so odd!” she exclaimed in a voice of amazement. “How very strange! What can be the matter with Mary! There is no end to the plague of servants!”

“Or rather to the plague of mistresses!” thought Laura, while she glanced from Miss Perceval’s round, red bustling face, to the poor suffering maid, who became worse and worse during the day, for there came on what sailors call “a capful of wind,” which gradually rose to a “stiff breeze,” or, what the passengers considered a hurricane; and, towards night, it attained the dignity of a real undeniable “storm.” A scene of indescribable tumult then ensued. The Captain attempted to make his voice heard above the roaring tempest, using a torrent of unintelligible nautical phrases, and an incessant volley of very intelligible oaths. The sailors flew about, and every plank in the vessel seemed creaking and straining, but high above all, the shrill tones of Miss Perceval were audibly heard, exclaiming,

“Are there enough of ‘hands’ on board? Is there any danger? Are you sure the boiler will not burst? I wish steam-boats had never been invented! People are sure to be blown up to the clouds, or sunk to the bottom of the ocean, or scalded to death like so many lobsters. I cannot stand this any longer! Stop the ship, and set me on shore instantly!”

Laura clung closer to Harry, and felt that they were like two mere pigmies, amid the wide waste of waters, rolling and tossing around them, while his spirits, on the contrary, rose to the highest pitch of excitement with all he heard and saw, till at length, wishing to enjoy more of the “fun,” he determined to venture above board. By the time Harry’s nose was on a level with the deck, he gazed around, and saw that not a person appeared visible except two sailors, both lashed to the helm, while all was silent now, except the deafening noise made by the wild waves and the stormy blast, which seemed as if it would blow his teeth down his [225] throat. Harry thought the two men looked no larger than mice in such a scene, and stood, clinging to the bannisters, perfectly entranced with astonishment and admiration at the novelty of all he saw, and thinking how often Frank must have been in such scenes, when suddenly a wave washed quite over the deck, and he felt his arm grasped by Mrs. Crabtree, who desired him to come down immediately, in a tone of authority which he did not even yet feel bold enough to disobey; therefore, slowly and reluctantly he descended to the cabin, where the only living thing that seemed well enough to move, was Miss Perceval’s tongue.

“Steward!” she cried, in sharp angry accents. “Steward! here is water pouring down the sky-lights like a shower-bath! Look at my band-box swimming on the floor! Mary! Tiresome creature! don’t you see that? My best bonnet will be destroyed! Send the Captain here! He must positively stop that noise on deck; it is quite intolerable. My head aches, as if it would burst like the boiler of a steam-boat! Stupid man! Can’t he put into some port, or cast anchor? How can he keep us all uncomfortable in this way! Mary! Mary, I say! are you deaf? Steward! send one of the sailors here to take care of this dog! I declare poor Frisk is going to be sick! Mary! Mary! This is insufferable! I wish the Captain would come and help me to scold my maid! I shall certainly give you warning, Mary.”

This awful threat had but little effect on one who thought herself on the brink of being buried beneath the waves, besides being too sick to care whether she died the next minute or not; and even Miss Perceval’s voice became drowned at last in the tremendous storm which raged throughout the night, during which the Captain rather increased Laura’s panic, if that were possible, by considerately putting his head into the cabin now and then to say, “Don’t be afraid, ladies! There is no danger!”

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“But I must come up and see what you are about, Captain!” exclaimed Miss Perceval.

“You had better be still, ma’am,” replied Mrs. Crabtree. “It is as well to be drowned in bed as on deck.”

Nothing gives a more awful idea of the helplessness of man, and the wrath of God, than a tempestuous sea during the gloom of midnight; and every mind on board became awed into silence and solemnity during this war of elements, till at length, towards morning, while the hurricane seemed yet raging with undiminished fury, Laura suddenly gave an exclamation of rapture, on hearing a sailor at the helm begin to sing Tom Bowling. “Now I feel sure the danger is over,” said she, “otherwise that man could not have the heart to sing! If I live a century, I shall always like a sailor’s song for the future.”

It is seldom that any person’s thankfulness after danger bears a fair proportion to the fear they felt while it lasted; but Harry and Laura had been taught to remember where their gratitude was due, and felt it the more deeply next day, when they entered the Yarmouth Roads, and were shewn the masts of several vessels, appearing partly above the water, which had on various occasions, been lost in that wilderness of shoals, where so many melancholy catastrophes have occurred.

After sailing up the Thames, and duly staring at Greenwich hospital, the hulks, and the Tower of London, they landed at last; and having offered Mrs. Crabtree a place in the hackney coach, they hurried impatiently into it, eager for the happy moment of meeting with Frank. Harry, in his ardour, thought that no carriage had ever driven so slowly before. He wished there had been a rail-road through the town; and far from wasting a thought upon the novelties of Holborn or Piccadilly, he and Laura gained no idea of the metropolis, more distinct than that of the Irishman who complained he could not see London for the quantity [227] of houses. One only idea filled their hearts, and brightened their countenances, while they looked at each other with a smile of delight, saying, “now, at last, we are going to see Frank!”

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CHAPTER XVI.
 
 
THE ARRIVAL.