“Admiral Havenful, it’s kind of you to ask, but I ain’t well at all; I’m very much obliged to you,” said Mr. Toosypegs, in a deeply dejected voice, as he walked into the parlor of the White Squall and took his seat without ever raising his eyes from the floor.
“Stand from under!” growled the admiral, in a tone like a bear with the bronchitis, as he gave his glazed hat a slap down on his head, and looked in a bewildered sort of way at the melancholy face of Mr. O. C. Toosypegs.
“Admiral Havenful, it’s my intention to stand from under as much as possible,” said Mr. Toosypegs, mournfully; “but, at the same time, I’m just as miserable as ever I can be, thank you. I don’t see what I was born for at all, either. I dare say they meant well about it; but at the same time, I don’t see what I was born for,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with increased mournfulness.
The admiral laid both hands on his knees, and leaning over, looked solemnly into Mr. Toosypegs’ face. Reading no expression whatever in that “Book of Beauty” but the mildest sort of despair, he drew himself up again, and grunted out an adjuration to “heave ahead.”
“Admiral Havenful, would you oblige me by not saying that again?” said Mr. Toosypegs, giving a sudden start, and keeping his hand to his stomach with a grimace of intensest disgust. “You mean real well, I know; but it recalls unpleasant recollections that I wish buried in oblivion. Ugh!” said Mr. Toosypegs, with a convulsive shudder.
The admiral looked appealingly at the great painting on the mantel; but as that offered no suggestion, he took off his hat, gave his wig a vigorous scratching, as if to extract a few ideas by the roots, and then clapping it on again, faced around, and with renewed vigor began the attack.
“Now, Mr. Toosypegs, I’m considerable out of my latitude, and if you’ll just keep her round a point or so, I’ll be able to see my way clearer, and discover in which corner the wind sets. What’s the trouble, young man?”
“The trouble, Admiral Havenful, is such that no amount of words can ever express it. No, Admiral Havenful!” exclaimed the unhappy Mr. Toosypegs, “all the words in all the dictionaries, not to mention the spelling books, that ever was printed, couldn’t begin to tell you the way I feel. It worries me so, and preys on my mind at such a rate that my appetite ain’t no circumstance to what it used to be. My Sunday swallow-tails (the one with the brass buttons, Admiral Havenful), that used to barely meet on me, goes clean around me twice now. I don’t expect to live long at this rate, but I guess it’s pleasantest lying in the graveyard than living in this vale of tears,” added Mr. Toosypegs, with a melancholy snuffle.
Once again the perplexed admiral looked helplessly at the picture; but the work of art maintained a strict neutrality, and gave him not the slightest assistance. Then he glanced at Mr. Toosypegs, but still nothing was to be read in those pallid, freckled features, but the mildest sort of anguish. The admiral was beginning to lose patience.
“Belay there! belay!” he roared, bringing his fist down with a tremendous thud on his unoffending knee. “Come to the point at once, Orlando Toosypegs! What the dickens is the matter?”
“Admiral Havenful, don’t swear!” exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs, looking deeply scandalized. “I dare say you mean well; but profane swearing isn’t so edifying as it might be. I’ve a little tract at home that tells about a boy that told another boy to ‘go to blazes!’ and three years after he fell out of a fourth-story window and broke two of his legs, and some of his arms. That shows the way profane swearing is punished. I’ll bring you over the book some day, Admiral Havenful, if you like; it’s a very interesting story to read about.”
The admiral fell back with a groan.
“I haven’t read anything lately but the ‘Lamentations of Jeremiah,’” said Mr. Toosypegs, resuming his former objections; “it’s very soothing to the feelings, though I can’t lay it to heart so much as I would like to, on account of Aunt Priscilla scolding all the time. She means real well, I know, but it ain’t so pleasant to listen to as some things I’ve heard. I laid awake all last night crying, but it don’t seem to do me much good.”
And Mr. Toosypegs wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.
The admiral said nothing; he had evidently given up the point in despair.
“I wouldn’t mention this to anybody but you, Admiral Havenful,” said Mr. Toosypegs; “because my feelings are so dreadfully lacerated it’s a great affliction to me to speak of it. I know you won’t tell anybody that I’ve revealed it, because I would feel real bad about it if you did.”
“Orlando Toosypegs, just stand by a minute, will you?” said the admiral, in the tone of a patient but persecuted saint. “Now, hold on—what have you revealed to me? what have you told me? There’s two questions I’d feel obliged to anybody to answer.”
“Why, my goodness!” said Mr. Toosypegs, in much surprise, “haven’t I told you? Why I thought I had. Well, then, Admiral Havenful, I’ve went and fell in love, and that’s all there is about it.”
“Main topsail haul!” roared the admiral, immeasurably relieved; “who’d ever have thought it? Who is she, Orlando?” said the admiral, lowering his voice to a husky whisper.
“Your niece, Miss Pet Lawless,” said Mr. Toosypegs, blushing deeply.
This announcement took the admiral so much by surprise that he could only give vent to it by another appealing glance at the picture, and a stifled growl of “Splice the main-brace!”
“Admiral Havenful, it’s my intention to splice the main-brace as much as possible. I’m very much obliged to you,” said Mr. Toosypegs, gratefully, “but, at the same time, I’m afraid it won’t do me the least good. I know very well she don’t care anything about me, and will go and marry somebody else some day. By gracious!” exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs, with the energy of desperation, “I’ve a good mind to go and do something to myself, whenever I think of it. Why, it’s enough to make a fellow go and heave himself away into an untimely grave—so it is.”
“Don’t, Orlando, don’t,” said the admiral, in a tone of grave rebuke; “it’s not proper to talk so. When you come to overhaul your conscience, by-and-by, you’ll be sorry for such rash threats. Now, look here—I’m going to talk to you for your own good. Does Pet know you’ve gone and splashed your affections onto her?”
“Good gracious, no!” ejaculated Mr. Toosypegs, in much alarm; “I wouldn’t tell her for anything—no, not for any amount of money you could give me for doing it, Admiral Havenful.—Oh, my goodness! the idea! why, she would laugh at me, Admiral Havenful.”
“Avast there, messmate! avast!” growled the admiral, administering a thump to his glazed hat. “Now, look here. When a young man goes and falls into love with a young woman, what does he do? or, what do they do?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Admiral Havenful,” said Mr. Toosypegs, looking dejectedly at the carpet; “I never was in love before, you know, and it’s just the queerest feeling ever was. I never experienced anything like it before. It’s not like the colic, or the toothache, or a cramp, or anything: you feel—well, I don’t know as I can describe it; but you kind of feel all over. And whenever I meet Miss Pet suddenly and she turns them two great, black eyes of hers right onto me—my gracious! Admiral Havenful, the state it sets me into! Why, I actually feel as if I’d like to crawl out of the toes of my boots or have the carpet open and swallow me up.”
And, Mr. Toosypegs, carried away by the exciting recollection, got up and paced up and down two or three times, and then dropped back into his seat and began wiping his heated visage with the flaming bandanna so often spoken of.
“Belay! belay!” said the admiral, impatiently; “you’re steering in the wrong direction altogether, Orlando. Now, look here; I asked you, ‘when a young man goes and falls in love with a young woman, what does he do?’ and says you ‘I don’t know, Admiral Havenful.’ Well, now look here; I’ll tell you. When a young man goes and falls in love with a young woman, what does he do? Why, Orlando Toosypegs, he goes and marries her. That’s what he does!”
And hereupon the admiral administered another vigorous slap to his glazed hat, that very nearly stove in the crown of that ill-used head-piece; and leaning back in his chair, looked with excusable triumph and exultation at Mr. Toosypegs.
That young gentleman gave a sudden start, such as people are in the habit of giving when they sit on a tin tack turned up, and got very red, but did not reply.
“Now, look here, Orlando Toosypegs,” reiterated the admiral, bringing the forefinger of his right hand impressively down on the palm of his left, “they goes and gets married. That’s what they does.”
Mr. Toosypegs gave another start, which could only be justified by the idea of another upturned tin tack, and blushed deeper than ever, but still replied never a word.
“They goes and gets married. That there’s what they does,” repeated the admiral, folding his arms and leaning serenely back, like a man who has settled the matter forever. “And now, Orlando Toosypegs, in the words of Scripture,”—here the admiral got up and took off his glazed hat—“‘go thou, and do likewise.’”
And then clapping his hat on again, with a triumphant slap, he sat down and looked Mr. Toosypegs straight and unwinkingly in the face.
“Admiral Havenful, I’m very much obliged to you, I’m sure,” said the “lovyer,” in a subdued tone; “but—but maybe she wouldn’t have me. She might, just as likely as not, say ‘No,’ Admiral Havenful.”
This was a view of the case the admiral had never once taken, and it took him so completely “aback,” to use his own phrase, that he could only cast another appealing glance at the picture and growl a low, bewildered adjuration to society in general, to “Stand from under!”
“I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if she said ‘No,’ Admiral Havenful; not one bit, sir,” said Mr. Toosypegs, mournfully; “it’s my luck, always, to have the most dreadful things happen to me! I declare it’s enough to make a fellow mad enough to go and do something to himself—it actually is.”
“Don’t now, Orlando, don’t now,” said the admiral, severely; “it isn’t proper, you know, and you really shouldn’t. There’s a proverb I’m trying to think of,” said the admiral, knitting his brow in intense perplexity; “you know the Book of Proverbs, Orlando, don’t you? Hold on, now, till I see: ‘Fain’—no—yes, ‘Fain heart—fain heart never won a fair lady.’” Again the old sailor reverentially removed his hat. “That’s it, Orlando; ‘fain heart never won fair lady.’ Now, look here: you go straight along and ask Firefly if she’s willing to cruise under your flag through life, and if she lays her hand in yours, and says ‘I’m there, messmate!’ by St. Paul Jones! we’ll have such a wedding as never was seen in old Maryland since Calvert came over. Hoorah!” yelled the admiral, waving his hat over his head in an unexpected outburst of delight, that quite startled Mr. Toosypegs.
“Admiral Havenful, I’ll do it! I will, by granny!” exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs jumping up in the excitement of the moment. “I’ll go right straight over to Heath Hill and ask her. Why, she actually might say ‘Yes,’ after all. Oh, my gracious! if she does, won’t it be nice? What will aunt Prisciller say? Admiral Havenful, it was real kind of you to advise me so, and tell me what to do; and I’m ever so much obliged to you—I really am,” said Mr. Toosypegs, bustling around, and putting on his hat, and turning to go.
“Keep her to the wind’s eye!” roared the admiral, in a burst of enthusiasm, as he brought one tremendous sledge-hammer fist down with an awful thump on the table.
“Admiral Havenful, it is my intention to keep her to the wind’s eye as much as possible,” said Mr. Toosypegs, who comprehended the sentence about as much as he would a Chinese funeral-oration. “Good-by, now; I’ll come right back when it’s over, and tell you what she said.”
And like the frog immortalized in Mother Goose, who “would a-wooing go,” Mr. O. C. Toosypegs “set off with his opera-hat,” on that expedition so terrifying to bashful young men—that of going to “pop the question.”
In all the ardor of his momentary excitement, Mr. Toosypegs got astride of a serious-looking pony, a family relation of the admiral’s favorite nag, Ringbone, and set out at a shuffling gallop for Heath Hill. Mr. Toosypegs did not look quite so pretty on horseback as some people might suppose: for he went jigging up and down with every motion of his steed, and being remarkably long in the legs, his feet were never more than a few inches from the ground; so that altogether, he was not the most dashing rider you would have selected to lead a charge of cavalry. But Mr. Toosypegs was not thinking of his looks just then, but of a far more important subject—trying to screw his courage to the sticking-point. The further he went, the faster his new-found courage began oozing away. As the White Squall receded, so did his daring determination; and as the full extent of the mission he was on burst out on him, a cold perspiration slowly burst out on his face, despite the warmth of the day.
“Good gracious! it’s going to be awful; I know it is!” exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs, wiping his face with the cuff of his coat. “And how I’m ever going to get through with it, I’m sure I don’t know. I wish to goodness I had never said nothing about it! If only knew any man that’s in the habit of proposing, he could tell me how they do it, and then I wouldn’t mind. But now—by granny! I’ve a good mind to turn, and go right back to Dismal Hollow. But then, the admiral—what will he say? Well, I don’t care what he says. How would he like to go and pop the question himself, I wonder? By gracious! I will go back. It’s no use thinking about it; for I’d sooner be chawed alive by rattlesnakes, and then kicked to death by grasshoppers, than go and tell Miss Pet the way I feel. I couldn’t tell her the way I feel; it's the most peculiar sensation ever was. And them black eyes of hers! Land of hope and blessed promise! the way they do go right through a fellow’s vest-pattern! How in the world so many men can manage to get married is more than I know; for I’d sooner march up to the muzzle of a pistol while Old Nick held the trigger, than go and do it! Whoa, Charlie! Turn round. I’m going home to Dismal Hollow!”
Whir, whir, whir! came something, with lightning-like rapidity, over the soft heath. Mr. Toosypegs turned round; and there came Miss Pet herself, flying along like the wind, on her fleet Arabian, her cheeks crimson, her splendid eyes blazing, her red lips smiling; her short, jetty curls flying in the wind she herself raised; her long, raven-black plume just touching her scarlet cheeks; the red rings of flame flashing out in the sunlight from her dazzling eyes and hair. She was bewildering, dazzling, blinding! Mr. Toosypegs had his breath completely taken away as his heart had long since been, and in that moment fell more deeply, deplorably, and helplessly in love than ever. Every idea was instantaneously put to flight by this little dark, bright bird-of-paradise—this blinding little grenade, all fire, and jets, and sparkles.
“Halloa, Orlando! Your very humble servant!” shouted Pet, as she laughingly dashed up, touching her hat gallantly to the gentleman. “How does your imperial highness find yourself this glorious day?”
“A—pretty miserable, thank you. A—I mean I ain’t very well, Miss Pet,” said Mr. Toosypegs, stammering, and breaking down.
“Not very well, eh? Why, what’s the matter? Not cholera-morbus, or measles or a galloping-decline, or anything—is it?” said Pet, in a tone of deepest anxiety. “The gods forbid anything should happen to you, Orlando, for the sake of all Judestown girls whose hearts you have broken! You do look sort of blue—a prey to ‘green and yellow melancholy,’ I shouldn’t wonder! Make Miss Priscilla apply a mustard-poultice when you get home—it doesn’t matter where—and go to bed with your feet in a tub of hot water, and I’ll bet you anything you’ll be as well as ever, if not considerably better, in the morning. I’m going to take in nursing some of these days, and ought to know!”
“Miss Pet, it’s real good of you to advise me, and I’m very much obliged to you,” said Mr. Toosypegs, gratefully; “but, at the same time, I don’t believe mustard-poultices and tubs of hot water would do me the first mite of good. No, Miss Pet, not all the hot water in all the hot springs that ever was, could do me the least good,” said Mr. Toosypegs, firmly. “I’m in that state that nothing can do me any good—no, no, nothing!” repeated Mr. Toosypegs, with increased firmness. “It’s all internal, you see, Miss Pet.”
“Oh! is it?” said Pet, puckering up her mouth as if she was going to whistle. “You ought to take something, then, and drive it out! Hot gin, or burnt brandy and cayenne is good—excessively good—though not so nice to take as some things I’ve tasted. Just you take a pint or so of hot burnt brandy and cayenne to-night, before going to bed, and you’ll see it will be all out in a severe rash early to-morrow morning. I’m advising you for your good, Orlando; for I feel like a mother to you—in fact, I feel a motherly interest in all the nice young men in Judestown and the surrounding country generally, for any extent you please, and am always ready to give them no end of good advice, if they only take it.”
“It’s real good of you, Miss Pet I’m sure,” said Mr. Toosypegs, wincing, as the very thought of the hot brandy and cayenne brought tears to his eyes, “and I would be real glad to take your advice, and brandy, only what ails me can’t be brought out in a rash. No, Miss Pet, all the brandy from here to Brandywine,” said Mr. Toosypegs—with a hazy idea that all ardent spirits came from that place—“couldn’t do it. It’s real good of you, though, to recommend it; and I’m very much obliged to you, I’m sure.”
“Well, really, I’m afraid I’ll have to give the case up, though I hate to do it. What’s the symptoms, Orlando?”
“The what, Miss Pet?”
“The symptoms, you know—I don’t exactly understand the word myself; and I forgot my dictionary when I was coming away. It means, though, the feelings or something that way—how do you feel as a general thing?”
“Well, I can’t say I feel very well,” said Mr. Toosypegs, mournfully. “I’m sort of restless, and can’t sleep of nights!”
“Ah! that’s owing to the musketoes!” said Pet. “That ain’t dangerous. Go on.”
“No, Miss Pet, it’s not the musketoes; it’s my feelings,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with increased mournfulness. “I’ve lost my appetite!”
“Well, I’m sure I don’t wonder at that, either,” again interrupted Pet. “Miss Priscilla half-starves you over there—I know she does. Just you come over and dine with us two or three times a week, at Heath Hill, and you’ll be astonished slightly at the way you’ll find your appetite again. Oh, I don’t despair of you at all!”
“Miss Pet,” burst out Mr. Toosypegs, in a sort of desperation, “it’s very good of you to ask me, and I’m very much obliged to you; but you don’t understand my feelings at all. It’s an unfortunate attachment—”
“An attachment?” exclaimed Pet. “Whew! that is bad. Why, Orlando, I didn’t think you owed anybody anything. When was this attachment issued against you?”
“Oh, Miss Pet! can’t you understand? My gracious! that ain’t the sort of attachment I mean at all. It’s not legal—”
“Then it’s illegal,” said Miss Pet, with a profoundly-shocked expression of countenance. “Why, Mr. Toosypegs, where do you expect to go to? I never expected to have any such confession from your lips. An illegal attachment! Mr. Toosypegs, the community generally look upon you as a highly exemplary young man, but I feel it my painful duty to announce to them immediately how they have been deceived. An illegal attachment! Oh, my stars and garters! Excuse me, Mr. Toosypegs, but after such a highly improper confession, I must bid you good-morning. No young and unsuspecting female like me can be seen with propriety in your company for the future. I am very sorry, Mr. Toosypegs, and I should never have suspected you of such shocking conduct had you not confessed it yourself.” And Pet drew herself up, and put on that severely moral expression only seen on the faces of school-mistresses and committeemen when lecturing young ideas on the proper way to shoot.
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs, in a distracted tone, nearly driven out of his senses by this harangue. “Oh, land of hope! was a fellow that never done nothing to nobody ever talked to like this before? By granny! it’s enough to make a fellow get as mad as anything; so it is! Why, Miss Pet, I haven’t done anything improper—I wouldn’t for any price; upon my word and honor, I wouldn’t. I’ve fell in love with—a—with—a young lady, and I don’t see where’s the harm of it. It’s unkind of you, Miss Pet, to speak so, and I don’t see what I’ve ever done to deserve it. You mean real well, I’m sure, but it makes a fellow feel bad to be talked to in this way all the time,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with a stifled whimper.
“Well, there, don’t cry, Orlando,” said Pet, soothingly, “and I won’t say another word. What young lady have you had the misfortune to fall in love with?”
“Miss Pet, excuse me, but I—I’d rather not tell, if it’s all the same,” replied Mr. Toosypegs, blushing deeply.
“Oh, fool! tell me, as a friend, you know. Won’t ever mention it again, so help me! Do I know her?”
“Ye—yes, Miss Pet, slightly.”
“Hem! It isn’t Annie Grove?”
“No, Miss Pet—why, she’s forty years old, if she’s a day,” said Mr. Toosypegs, indignantly.
“Yes, I know—twenty-five, she says; but she’s been that as far back as the oldest inhabitant can remember. Well, then, Jessie Masters?”
“Miss Pet, allow me to say I ain’t in the habit of falling in love with women with wooden legs,” said the young gentleman, with dignity.
“Well, I didn’t know; it’s cheaper, in shoe-leather, especially. Hem-m-m! Perhaps it’s Mrs. Jenkins?”
“Mrs. Jenkins! a widow! No, Miss Pet, it ain’t. I should think you might know I don’t like second-hand women,” said Mr. Toosypegs, as near being indignant as he ever was in his life.
“Well, who the mischief can it be then! It must be Huldah Rice.”
“A little stout thing, with—with a hump, and cross-eyes? Miss Pet, it ain’t!” exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs, with tears of vexation in his eyes.
“Not her, either? then I give up. Who is it, Orlando?”
“Miss Pet, I don’t like to tell—you’ll laugh at me,” said Mr. Toosypegs, blushing deeply.
“Laugh! No, I won’t; honor bright! I’ll look as grim as a death’s-head and cross-bones! Now then, out with it!”
“Miss Pet, it’s—it’s—”
“Yes—well?”
“It’s—”
“Well?”
“It’s you,” fairly shouted Mr. Toosypegs, driven to desperation by her perseverance.
“Me! O ye gods and goddesses, without skirts or bodices! Me! Great Jehosaphat! I’ll know what it feels like to be unexpectedly struck by a cannon-ball, after this! Me! Well, I never!”
“Miss Pet, I knew you would laugh; I knew it all along, and I told him so this morning,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with a sniffle; “you mean well, I dare say, but it don’t seem kind at all.”
“Laugh!” exclaimed Pet; “come, I like that, and my face as long as an undertaker’s! You may take a microscope and look from this until the week after next, and then you won’t discover the ghost of a smile on my countenance. Laugh, indeed! I’m above such a weakness, I hope,” said Pet, with ineffable contempt.
“Then, Miss Pet, perhaps you will have me,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with sudden hope. “Miss Pet, I can’t begin to tell you the way I love you; you can’t have any idea of it; it goes right through and through me. I think of you all day, and I dream about you all night. I’m in the most dreadful way about you, ever was. Miss Pet, I’d do anything you told me to. I’d go and drown myself if you wanted me to, or shoot myself, or take ratsbane, and rather like it than otherwise, if you’ll only have me, Miss Pet—”
“Orlando, I’m very sorry; but—I can’t.”
“Miss Pet, you don’t mean it; you can’t mean it, surely. I know I ain’t so good-looking as some,” said Mr. Toosypegs, in a melancholy tone; “but I can get something to take the freckles off, and I expect to fatten out a little by-and-by, so—”
“Now, don’t go to any such trouble for me,” said Pet, with difficulty keeping from laughing at his mildly-anguished look. “I don’t mind the freckles at all; I rather like them, in fact; they vary the monotony of the complexion, just as oases do in the deserts we read of; and as for being thin—well, I’m rather on the hatchet-pattern myself, you know. But you must quit thinking about me, Orlando, because I’m only a wild little Tomboy, that everybody gets furious about, and I never intend to get married at all—that is, unless—well, never mind.”
“Miss Pet, if you only knew how badly in love I am.”
“Oh, you only think so; you’ll forget me in a week!”
“I’ll never forget you, Miss Pet, never—not even if I was to be taken out of this world altogether, and sent up to New Jersey. It’s awful to think you won’t have me—it really is,” said Mr. Toosypegs, in great mental distress.
“Well, I’m sorry, Orlando, but I can’t help it, you know. Now be a good boy for my sake, and try to forget me—won’t you?” asked Pet, coaxingly.
“I’ll try to, Miss Pet, since you wish it,” said poor Mr. Toosypegs, with tears in his eyes; “but it’s blamed hard. I wish to gracious I had never been born—I just do! I don’t see where is the good of it at all.”
“Oh, now, Orlando, you mustn’t feel bad about it, because it won’t amount to anything,” said Pet, in a consoling tone; “don’t let us talk any more about it. Guess what I heard last night over at Judestown.”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Miss Pet,” said Mr. Toosypegs, giving his eyes and nose a vigorous wiping with his handkerchief.
“Well, then, that the gang of smugglers who have been for so long a time suspected of having a rendezvous around the coast somewhere, have been seen at last. Two or three of them were observed pulling off in a boat, the other night, and going on board a dark, suspicious-looking schooner, anchored down the bay. They are known to have a hiding-place somewhere around here, but the good folks of Judestown can’t discover it, and consequently are in a state of mind at having such desperadoes near them. I am going to hunt all over the shore far and near myself, this very day, and see if my eyes are not sharper than those of the Judestown officials. Oh, I would love, of all things, to discover their hiding-place; perhaps my smartness wouldn’t astonish the natives slightly.”
“But, good gracious, Miss Pet! if they get hold of you,” said Mr. Toosypegs, his blood running chill with horror at the very idea; “why, it would be awful.”
“If they did,” said Pet, “they would find, as others have done, to their cost, before now, that they had caught a Tartar; a snap-dragon; a pepper-pod; an angel in petticoats! Oh, they’d have their hands full, in every sense of the word. I’m bound to go on my exploring expedition this afternoon, wind and weather permitting, anyway, and see what will be the result. Where are you going, may I ask?”
“To Dismal Hollow, or—no, I’ve got to go to the White Squall, first.”
“Very well; I won’t detain you, then. I’m off to Judestown—good-by; remember me to uncle Harry.”
And giving her jaunty, plumed hat another gallant touch, Firefly dashed off, leaving Mr. Toosypegs gazing dejectedly after her until the last flutter of her dark riding-habit vanished amid the trees; and then he slowly and mournfully turned his solemn-faced nag in the direction of the White Squall, to tell the admiral the unsatisfactory result of his proposal.
Petronilla rode gayly along to the little bustling, half-village, half-city, Judestown, thinking over her late surprising proposal, and scarcely knowing whether to laugh at or pity poor Mr. Toosypegs. As she reached the town these thoughts were dispelled by the busy scenes around, and Pet found herself fully occupied in nodding to her various friends and acquaintances as she passed.
Pet’s destination was the post-office, a large building which served as a store, hotel, and post, all in one. As she drew rein at the door, the mail-coach drew up, and Pet lingered where she was a moment, in order to avoid the crowd.
The passengers crowded in, and as the coach-door opened, a young gentleman sprung out and assisted a lady, closely veiled, to alight. Neither of them noticed Pet; so they did not observe her quick start, her sudden flush, and the vivid lighting up of her beautiful eyes.
These outward and very unwonted signs of emotion on Pet’s part passed away as quickly as they came, and in one minute more she was as cool, saucy and composed as ever.
“Is there any one here who will drive us to Old Barrens Cottage?” said the young gentleman, glancing at the landlord.
“Yes, sir; in ten minutes, sir; just step in, sir; my boy’s gone off in a gig with a gent, but he’ll be back soon. Walk right in this way, sir,” replied the obsequious landlord, with a profusion of bows to the well-dressed and distinguished-looking stranger before him.
“I would rather not wait,” said the gentleman. “Can you not let me have some other conveyance, and I will drive over myself?”
“Very sorry, sir, but they’re all engaged. Just step in, sir, you and your good lady, sir.”
Pet fancied she heard a low, sweet laugh from under the thick, brown veil, and the gentleman smiled as he followed the bustling host into the well-sanded parlor.
In one moment Pet was off her horse, and consigning him to the care of the hostler, darted in by a side-door and rung a peal that presently brought the hostess, a pleasant-faced, fat, little woman, in a tremendous flutter, into the room.
“Laws! Miss Petronilla, is it you? Why, you haven’t been to see me this long time. How do you do?”
“I’m very well, thank you, Mrs. Gudge; but see here—did you notice that gentleman and lady who have just gone into the parlor?”
“That tall, handsome young man, with all them there mustaches?—yes, I seen him, Miss Pet.”
“Well, do you know who he is?”
“No; though it does kinder seem to me as if I’d seen him somewhere before. The lady, his wife, I take it, kept her veil down, and I couldn’t see her face. No; I don’t know ’em, Miss Pet.”
“Well, that don’t matter; I do. And now, Mrs. Gudge, I want you to help me in a splendid piece of—of—”
“Mischief, Miss Pet,” said the woman, slyly.
“No, not exactly—just fun. I want you to bring a suit of your son Bob’s clothes up here. I’m going to dress myself in them, and when he comes with the gig let me drive them over. My riding-habit and pony can remain here till I send for them.”
“Now, Miss Pet—”
“Now, Mrs. Gudge, don’t bother me! Go, like a dear old soul. I’ll give you a kiss if you do.”
“But the judge—”
“Oh, the judge won’t know anything about it unless you tell him. There, be off! I want to be dressed before Bob comes. If you don’t hurry I’ll lose the most splendid joke ever was. Hurry now! Put Mr. Gudge up to it, so the cat won’t get out of the bag.”
With a deprecating shake of her head and upturning of her eyes, the little hostess bustled out, inwardly wondering what “Miss Pet would do next.”
Pet, in the meantime, with her wicked black eyes scintillating with the prospect of coming fun, was rapidly divesting herself of her hat and riding-habit. And then little Mrs. Gudge made her appearance with her son and heir’s “Sunday-go-to-meetin’s” and stayed to assist the fairy in her frolic, and find out who the handsome owner of the “mustarchers” was. But Pet was as close as a clam, and only laughed at the landlady’s “pumping,” while she dived desperately into Bob’s pants and coat, which—except being narrow where Pet thought they ought to be wide, and wide where they ought to be narrow, fitted her very well. Then she combed her short, dancing, black curls to one side, over her round, boyish forehead, and setting upon them a jaunty Scotch cap, stood there, bright, saucy, and smiling, as handsome and dashing a little fellow as you could see in a long summer-day.
“Well, laws! you do make a pretty boy and no mistake, Miss Pet,” said the woman, admiringly; “them handsome eyes of yours and shaking, shining curls is jest the thing! But your hands—they’re a heap too small and deliky-looking for a boy’s.”
“Oh! well, I’ll rub some mud on them when I get out. They’re not the whitest in the world anyway; and besides, they won’t look very closely at a little cab-boy’s hands.”
“Now, if you want to be like a boy, you must take long steps, and stick your hands in your pockets, and swear. Can you swear, Miss Pet?” said the woman, seriously.
“Well, I never tried,” said Pet, laughing; “and as I don’t know any oaths off by heart, I guess I won’t mind, for fear the effect would be a failure.”
“It’s a pity you don’t,” said Mrs. Gudge, thoughtfully; “all boys allers swears at the horses. You must look sassy—but that comes natural enough to you; and you had better smoke a pipe or chew some tobacco, on the road—which will you do, Miss Pet?”
“Well, really, Mrs. Gudge, I’d rather not do either, if it’s all the same to you,” said Pet; “but you mus’n’t keep calling me ‘Miss Pet,’ you know; my name’s Bob, now, Bob Gudge.”
“So it is. Laws! if it ain’t funny; but I’m afraid they’ll find you out if you don’t do none of those things. Can you whistle, Miss—Bob, I mean?”
For reply, Pet puckered up her rosy mouth, and whistled “Hail Columbia,” in a way that made little Mrs. Gudge’s eyes snap with delight.
“Here comes Bob!” she cried, as a gig came rattling into the yard. “You wait here a minute and I’ll fix things all right.”
Out flew Mrs. Gudge, and called off Bob to some secret corner, and then she showed her head in at the door and called:
“Come, now, Miss—Bob, and drive round to the front door while I tell the lady and gentleman all’s right now.”
Pet, imitating Bob’s shuffling swagger, went out to the yard, sprung up on the front seat, took the reins, and, in masterly style, turned the horses, and drove around to the front door.
Scarcely had she got there and struck up “Hail Columbia” in her shrillest key, than the dark, handsome gentleman with the “mustarchers” came out with the lady, who was still veiled, followed by the host and hostess, on whose faces rested a broad grin. Pet, with her cap pulled over her eyes, to shade them from the hot sun, and also to subdue their dark, bright splendor a little, sat whistling away, looking as cool as a cucumber, if not several degrees cooler.
The young gentleman handed the lady in, and she took her place on the back seat.
“Now, Minnie, I’m going to sit here with the driver and have a chat with him”, said the young man; “these cunning little vagrants know everything.”
The shrill whistle rose an octave higher.
“Very well,” said the young lady, in low, laughing tones; “anything to put an end to that piercing whistle. I suppose he cannot talk to you and whistle together?”
“Can’t I, though?” thought the small urchin, who held the reins. “We’ll see that, Miss Erminie Germaine,” and higher and higher still rose the sharp, shrill notes.
“Come, my lad, start,” cried the gentleman, springing in, “and if it’s not too much trouble, might I request you to stop whistling? It may be, and no doubt is, owing to our bad taste, but we cannot appreciate it as it deserves.”
“Don’t see no harm in whistling; nobody never objects to it,” said Pet, imitating to perfection the gruff, surly tones of Master Bob. “I’m fond of music myself, if you ain’t, and so is the hoss, who would not go a step if I didn’t whistle; so I’ll just keep on if it’s all the same to you.”
And another stave of “Hail Columbia” pierced the air.
“How long does it take you to drive to the Barrens?”
“Well, sometimes longer and sometimes shorter; and then again not so long,” said the driver, touching the horse daintily with his whip.
“Quite enlightened, thank you! Do you know the family at old Barrens cottage?”
“There ain’t no family there; there’s only the old woman what can’t walk or nothin’; and a nigger. Them two don’t make one whole member of society, let alone a family. Was you acquainted with them, square?”
“Slightly so,” said the gentleman, smiling.
“Well, maybe you knew that there cove that went away—young Mr. Ray?”
“I believe I had that honor,” replied the young man, with the smile still on his handsome face.
“Honor! humph! I reckon you’re the only one ever thought it an honor to know him,” said the lad, grimly. “He always was a vagabones, and ended as all vagabones must, at last.”
For one moment the young gentleman glanced at the driver, evidently hesitating whether to pitch him then and there out of the gig or not; but seeing only a little boy with an exceedingly muddy face, he thought better of it, and said:
“Well, this is really pleasant to listen to! And how did this vagabones, as you call him, end?”
“Why, he was sent away from home, when they couldn’t stand him any longer; and the last we heard of him was that he was in State Prison for life.”
A low peal of laughter from the young lady followed this, in which, after a prolonged stare of astonishment, the gentleman was obliged to join.
“Well, for cool, innate impudence, and straight-forward bluntness, I’ll back you against the world, my good youth,” said the young man, while the little driver sat looking as sober as a judge.
“And the young lady who lived there, what became of her?”
“There wasn’t never no young lady,” said the lad; “there was a little gal with yaller hair, but she went off, too; and I expect, ran away with some one-eyed fiddler or other. They was English, and no better couldn’t have been expected,” said the boy, in strong accents of contempt.
Another low laugh from the young lady and a prolonged whistle from the gentleman followed this.
“Well, I am sorry my friends have turned out so badly. How about the others, now; Judge Lawless and his family, for instance; Admiral Havenful, Mr. and Miss Toosypegs, and the rest?”
“They’re all hanging together! Mr. Toosypegs is going to get married and take in sewing for a living; and Miss Priscilla goes round making vinegar.”
“Making what?”
“Vinegar,” said the lad, gravely. “The grocers gets her to look into barrels of water, when they turns into vinegar ’mediately.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” said the gentleman, laughing; “but the others—Judge Lawless, Miss Lawless, what of her?”
“Oh, she’s all right. Don’t expect she’ll be Miss Lawless, though, much longer,” said the boy.
“No? why? how? what do you mean?” said the young gentleman, starting so suddenly that the boy looked up, apparently quite terrified by this unexpected outburst.
“See here, square, you’ll skeer the hoss if you keep on like this. If you’re subjick to ’tacks of this kind you ought for to have told me before we started, and not ’larm the hoss,” said the boy, sharply.
“Tell me what you mean by that? Speak!” said the young man, vehemently.
“By what? skeering the hoss?” said the lad.
“No, about Miss Lawless,” was the impetuous rejoinder.
“Oh! Well, I have hearn tell she was goin’ to be married. Likely as not she is too; got lots of beaux.”
The young gentleman’s face flushed for a moment, and then grew set and stern.
“Did you hear who she was to be married to?” said the young lady, leaning over.
“No, marm; nobody never can tell what she’ll do; likely as not she’ll get married to the one nobody expects her to marry. She always was the contrariest young woman always that ever was,” said the boy, casting a quick, bright, searching glance from under his long eyelashes, at the handsome face of the gentleman. And it was a handsome face, the very handsomest the saucy little driver had ever seen; and it might have been its close proximity to its owner that sent such quick thrills to the heart of the quondam boy, and set it beating so unnecessarily fast under the jaunty black coat. The dark, clear complexion; the straight, classic features; the thick, jetty, clustering hair; the high, princely brow; the bold, flashing, falcon, black eyes; the thin, curving nostril, that showed his high blood; the proud, haughty mouth, shaded by a thick, black mustache; the tall, slight, elegant form; the high, kingly movements—these made up the outward attractions of him by whose side Pet sat. Of course, every reader above the artless age of five knows as well as I do who it is, so there is not the slightest necessity for announcing his name as Raymond Germaine.
There was a long silence after this. The young gentleman, with a cold, almost sarcastic look, watched the objects as they passed, and the little boy drove on, whistling as if his life depended on it.
Then the young lady leaned over and began a conversation in a low voice with her companion, to which he replied in the same tone. The lady had thrown back her veil, disclosing a face of such rare loveliness that it seemed a downright shame, not to say sin, to hide it behind that odious brown covering. The driver turned round to catch a better view of her face, and the young lady met the full splendor of those dazzling dark orbs. The boy instantly turned, and began whistling louder than ever.
“What a handsome boy!” said the young girl, in a low tone, yet loud enough for the “boy” in question to hear. “What splendid eyes! I thought there could be but one such pair of eyes in the world, and those—”
Her companion made a slight gesture that arrested the name she would have uttered; and glancing at the boy, said, rather coldly:
“Yes; he is handsome, if his face was washed.”
“Now, Ray,” said the young lady, laughing “that is altogether too bad. Those radiant eyes are destined to break many a heart yet.”
“That they are!” mentally exclaimed the lad.
“How fortunate for some of your admirers, Ermie, he is not a few years older,” said Ray (we may as well call him so at once, and have done with it). “Those dark, bright, handsome eyes wouldn’t have left you the faintest trace of a heart; and then what would poor Ranty have done?”
“Pshaw, Ray,” said Erminie, with a most becoming blush, “what nonsense! Oh, look! we are almost home. There is Dismal Hollow, and there—there—I declare! that’s Mr. Toosypegs himself, riding out of the pine woods. Why, he hasn’t changed the least in the world since I saw him last.”
The little driver gave his cap a pull further over his face as Ray shouted to Mr. Toosypegs.
The next moment, that disconsolate wooer was by the side of the gig, shaking hands with Ray and Erminie, and asking a dozen questions in a breath.
“How did you come? When did you come? How did you meet?” breathlessly demanded the astonished and delighted Mr. Toosypegs.
“I called for Erminie at her convent. She is not going back any more; my visit will probably be a short one. I hope Miss Toosypegs and all our friends are well?”
“Yes; all well. I am very much obliged to you. Did you pass through Judestown?”
“Of course. How else could we get here?”
“And didn’t you meet Miss Pet?”
“Miss Lawless? No. Was she at Judestown?” said Erminie, eagerly; while Ray found something so attractive among the trees that he could not possibly remove his eyes from it. “Oh, I should have liked to have seen her so much!”
“Yes; she went to Judestown this morning, and has not got back. My goodness! it is the greatest wonder you didn’t see her. What a pity she didn’t know you’ve come! she would be here in a flash.”
“Is she to be married, do you know, Mr. Toosypegs?” said Erminie, in a low voice; “we heard she was.”
The little boy glanced from the corner of his eye, and saw a faint red on the dark cheek of the tall, handsome, Spanish-looking gentleman beside him.
Mr. Toosypegs turned pale; even his very freckles turned the color of buttermilk curds at the question.
“Get married! Goodness gracious! I was just saying so. Oh, I knew very well she would go and heave herself away on somebody. Who is she going to be married to, Miss Minnie?”
“I don’t know; it was this little boy who told us,” said Erminie, glancing toward him.
“Well, I don’t know neither; only hearn tell,” said the lad, shortly.
“Perhaps it is only a report. When will you come over to the cottage, Mr. Toosypegs?”
“This evening, Miss Minnie; and I guess Aunt Prisciller will come, too. She hasn’t had any new caps or collars since you went away, and has ever so many to get made.”
“Very well; I will make them. Good-by, till then,” said Erminie, smiling as they drove on.
A short time sufficed to bring them to the cottage.
The driver was invited in, but declined, and turned to go.
“If you see Miss Lawless on your way, will you tell her to hurry here?” said Erminie, as she alighted.
“Yes’m; all right!” said the boy, closing his hand over the coin Ray gave him; and then touching his cap to Erminie, dashed away.
Lucy’s delight exceeded all bounds at beholding “young mars’r and missis” again; and then Ray and Erminie, with some difficulty, extricated themselves from her violent caresses, went up-stairs, and entered the room of Ketura.
Many and sad were the changes years, and sorrow, and a sort of chronic remorse for her past acts had wrought in her. She sat in a large easy-chair, unable to move any portion of her body but her head; her hard, dark, grim face, bony, sharp, and hollow, the protruding bones just covered by a wrinkled covering of skin; but the fierce, blazing, black eyes were still unchanged.
Erminie, with the exclamation, “My dearest grandmother!” went over, and throwing her snowy arms around her neck, kissed the dark, withered cheek.
The old woman glanced at her, and saw the now beautiful, feminine, but perfect image of Lord Ernest Villiers. The same large, dark, beautiful violet-blue eyes; the same fair, silken, golden hair; the game clear, transparent complexion; the same elegant, graceful movements; the very expression of the features complete. All her old hatred revived at the sight of the lovely, high-born girl. With a quick, fierce gesture, she pushed her aside, and strove to glance around for the other she expected.
Ray stepped forward, and touched his lips tenderly to her forehead.
Holding his hand, she made him stand off where she could the better see him, and then she scrutinized him from head to foot. There, before her, he stood, the living embodiment of what her son had been at his age, the very image of him she had so passionately loved and so sadly lost. She could scarcely persuade herself that Reginald had not risen from the grave to meet her again. There was his very gipsy skin, and eyes of darkened fire; the curling locks of jet, and tall, princely form; but the expression of the mouth was different; his smile was Erminie’s exactly; and altogether there was a strong, undefined, puzzling resemblance between them, that for a moment darkly clouded the brow of the gipsy as she observed it. The only being in the wide world she cared for now, was Ray. Erminie might win all other hearts, but the gipsy Ketura’s was as flint to her. She had hated her from the first; she hated her still; she would hate her until the last, for the sake of the race from which she sprung.
Seeing she was not wanted, Erminie left the room to change her traveling-dress; and Ray, seating himself beside his grandmother, proceeded to tell her of his studies, his progress, his hopes and ambition for the future. One name he did not mention, that of Pet Lawless; and yet it was thrilling and vibrating at his heart-strings, as he listened impatiently for the quick, sharp clatter of her horse’s hoofs.
But hours passed, and she came not; and Ray, angry at himself for caring or feeling so deeply disappointed, descended to join Erminie at the tea-table.
“What is Miss Lawless to me?” was the impetuous thought that sent the fiery blood careering to his brow. “She an heiress, and I a pauper—a beggar, with the tainted gipsy blood in my veins. We were friends—something more, perhaps—in the years that have passed; but neither of us understood our relative positions, then. No; proud as she is, she shall never know I have dared to lift my eyes to her father’s daughter. I was a fool to come on here at all. I have heard she has driven dozens of better men crazy with her witchery; and can I rely on my own strength to shield me from her arts? Pshaw! she will not think it worth while, though, to stoop to flirt with me. I, a menial, educated by the bounty of her uncle. I am safe enough, and will think of her no more.”
A very laudable resolution it was, on the young gentleman’s part, but one which he found some difficulty in carrying out, inasmuch as Mr. and Miss Toosypegs and Admiral Havenful came in just then; and after the first greetings were over, the whole conversation turned on Pet, her tricks, frolics, flirtations, capers, and caprices; and Ray found himself listening with an intense eagerness that he was half inclined to be enraged at himself for feeling.
Then, just as night was falling, the gallop of a horse was heard coming though the forest road; and a few minutes later, Pet alighted at the gate, darted up the walk, burst, like the impetuous little whirlwind she was, into the cottage, clasped Erminie in her arms, and kissed her again and again, until Ray—though nothing earthly would have made him own it, even to himself—would have given untold wealth to have stood in his sister’s gaiters. Three somewhat furious embraces, that quite took away Erminie’s breath, being over, Miss Lawless found time to glance at the rest of the company, and seeing Ray, as he stood, tall, and dark, and silent, by the window, went over and held out her hand.
There was something more nearly approaching to timidity in the action, and in the quick glance and quicker dropping of her resplendent eyes than any one had ever seen Pet manifest before. Ray bent over the little dark hand, whose touch sent a quick, sudden thrill to his inmost heart, and thought that, in all his life, he had never seen any one so beautiful as she looked then, with her veiled eyes, and drooping ringlets, and long, waving plumes that bent over her hat, touching her glowing cheeks as if enamored of the darkly splendid face beneath.
“Humph! A cold welcome, my little Mother Cary’s Chicken,” grunted the admiral. “Why don’t you kiss him like you did Snowdrop? That’s no way to welcome a friend you haven’t seen for three whole blessed years.”
Ray’s eyes met hers, and the color flushed to her very brow; then, withdrawing her hand, she tossed her saucy head till all her jetty curls flashed, and throwing herself into a seat, began talking to Erminie, as if for a wager.
“Who told you we were come?” asked Erminie.
“No one,” said Pet. “It was an inspiration from on high, I expect, that told me I should find you here.”
“It’s a wonder you did not see us at Judestown; we remained there some time.”
“Well, how do you know I didn’t see you?” said Pet.
“Why, you surely—oh, Pet! did you see us and never spoke?” said Erminie, reproachfully.
“Well, I was otherwise engaged, you know—in fact, there was a young gentleman, a very young gentleman, in the case—and I couldn’t very well have presented myself any sooner then I did,” said Pet.
“One of her lovers,” thought Ray, with a curling lip.
“Guess what the little boy, who drove us over, told us about you, Pet?” said Erminie, laughing.
“What? Nothing naughty, I hope.”
“Well, I don’t know; that’s as it may be. Shall I tell you what he said?”
“Of course; I like to hear what people say about me.”
“Well, then, he said you were going to be married.”
“Not possible! What an astounding revelation! Did you think I was going to be an old maid?”
“Then it is true? Is it any harm to ask who the happy man is, Pet?”
“Well, I haven’t quite decided yet. I have some four or five on trial, and I generally put them through a severe course of martyrdom every day. The one who survives it (not more than one can possibly survive it) I shall probably make miserable for life, by bestowing upon him my hand—and heart, I was going to say, only, fortunately, they forgot to give me one when I was made.”
Erminie laughed, and then the conversation became general, and two hours imperceptibly slipped away. Ray having wrought himself up to the belief that Miss Lawless was a heartless flirt, worthy of no higher feeling than contempt, he, in order to resist the dark witchery of her magnetic eyes, wrapped himself up in his very coldest mantle of pride, and addressed just as little of his conversation to her as he possibly could, without being positively rude. Pet, as proud in her own way as himself, noticed this at once, and her cheeks flushed, and her eyes flashed, for a moment, with anger and pride. Then these signs of emotion passed away, and she grew her own cold, careless self again, talking away recklessly, and laughing contemptuously at all sentiment, until Ray was more then ever convinced that the world had spoiled her, and that she was as arrant a coquette as ever made a fool of a sensible man.
As they arose to go, Ray, feeling himself bound in courtesy, offered to escort her home, but Pet coldly and curtly declined; and vaulting into her saddle, dashed off at a break-neck pace, madly reckless even for her.
Looking back once, she caught a glimpse of a tall dark form leaning against a tree with folded arms and watching her still. Did she, with her light, sparkling, thoughtless nature, realize the struggle going on in that young heart, between love and pride, at that moment?
Of course, the arrival of Ray and Erminie precluded her “exploring expedition,” as she called it, to the seashore. The next morning, and part of the afternoon, were spent with Erminie; but reaching home a little before sunset, she suddenly remembered it, and started off on the spur of the moment, like a female Don Quixote, in search of adventures.
“It’s too late to begin a regular search,” thought Pet, as she ran down the bank leading to the shore; “so I’ll just have a look round the place, and come back some other day and have a real good hunt for smugglers.”
Fifteen minutes brought her to the beach, and there she paused to look round. The sands for a long distance out were bare; but the tide was slowly tramping inward. On the other hand, a huge wall of beetling rocks and projecting crags met the eye; but these walls of rock were so smooth and perpendicular, and so dizzily high, that the boldest sailor, used to climbing all his life, would have hesitated before attempting to clamber up. There were two paths leading to the shore—the one Pet had just descended, and another about half a mile distant. Between these the massive wall of rock chose to indulge itself in a sudden impetuous rush out, forming a huge projecting shoulder, up which a cat could hardly have climbed safely. The tide always covered this a considerable length of time before it could reach the sands on either side, so that a person caught at high tide on either side found himself cut off from crossing over to the opposite side, unless he had a boat, or could swim.
“Now,” thought Pet, “I’ll have to look sharp and not let the tide catch me on the other side of that bluff, there, or if I do, I’ll have a walk of half a mile along the beach to the other road, and after that over a mile to get home, which is a promenade I am not anxious for. I might swim across, it is true, but swimming with all one’s clothes on is not the pleasantest or safest thing in the world; and all the smugglers this side of Pompey’s Pillar are not worth the cold I would catch. I’ll just walk over and look at the rocks, and then come back again.”
Following up this intention, Pet walked slowly along, scanning the high, dark, frowning rocks with a curious eye. As far as she could see, there was not the slightest trace of an opening anywhere; yet the people said that some place along the shore the smugglers had a rendezvous. Pet’s keen eye detected every fissure large enough to hold a mouse, but no trace of secret cave or hidden cavern could be seen.
“I might have known it was all nonsense,” said Pet, mentally. “The notion of finding an under-ground cave full of robbers and jewels, and all that sort of thing, is too much like a play, or a story in the ‘Arabian Nights,’ to be natural. However, as the night’s fine, I’ll just go and look on the other side of the bluff.”
By this time she had reached the high projecting bowlders, and she paused for a moment to glance at the sea. It was still several yards distant, and Pet felt sure she could go down some distance, and return again before the rising tide would bar her passage.
The sun had set and there was no moon; but the starlight was bright and the sea-breeze cool and invigorating; so Pet, in high spirits, walked on. Here and there she could catch the white sail of some boat, skimming over the waves; but the long beach was lonely and deserted.
“Well, I guess I may as well turn back now,” said Pet, half aloud. “I am afraid my search after smugglers is going to be unsuccessful, after all. I haven’t caught anything this evening, that’s certain.”
“But something has caught you, pretty one,” said a voice, close behind her, so close and sudden that Pet jumped round with a startled ejaculation, and found herself face to face with her sometime tutor and discarded lover, Rozzel Garnet.
His face was flushed, his eyes were gleaming with triumph, as he laid one powerful hand on her shoulder, and held her fast.
In one instant the whole danger of her situation flashed upon Pet. She had made this man her deadly enemy; he had probably long waited for an opportunity for revenge—here she was completely in his power, alone on the long, dreary, deserted beach, where her cries, if she uttered any, could reach no ear. Above her towered the high, precipitous, beetling rocks that she could not climb; on the other hand, spread out the boundless ocean, more merciful than him into whose hands she had fallen.
Like lightning, it all passed through her mind, and for one moment she quailed. But then her brave heart rose; this was no time for puerile fears, and she faced round, drew up her slight form to its full height, and met her enemy with a dauntless eye.
“Good-evening, Mr. Garnet,” she said, composedly. “This is an unexpected pleasure. We thought you had gone away.”
“Ah! did you? Gone where, Miss Lawless?” he said, with a sinister smile.
“Well—anywhere—to the county jail, as likely as not; but people don’t always get their deserts in this world.”
“Very true, Miss Pet; but you are, at present, in a fair way to get yours.”
“Humph! You’ll allow me to differ from you, there. I deserve something better than bad company, I hope; so permit me to wish you a very good-evening, Mr. Garnet.”
“Not so fast, Miss Lawless; you must do your humble servant the honor of conferring your company upon him for a few days. As I have not seen you for so long a time, it would be highly impolite, not to say cruel, to hasten away so soon now.”
“Indeed! Mr. Garnet—indeed!” said Pet, arching her brows. “Your lesson in the library did not cure you, I see. Are you aware there is such a thing as a jail in Judestown, where refractory gentlemen who threaten peaceable citizens are sometimes taken for a change of air? Really, Mr. Garnet, I think a little wholesome correction would not hurt you in the least.”
“No, Miss Lawless, I have not forgotten that scene in the library of your father’s house,” said Garnet, tightening his grasp, till Pet winced with pain. “My hand bears the mark of your sharp teeth yet; and as I am deeply your debtor for that Judas-kiss, I shall pay you in your own coin before either of us are many hours older. Did you think how near retribution was when you gave me that sharp caress, Miss Lawless?”
“‘Sharp caress.’ I suppose that means a bite. If you’re not anxious to test their sharpness again, Mr. Garnet, you’ll let go my arm. Faith! I wish I had made one of my servants horsewhip you from my gates, that day; you would not have dared to come sneaking round like a white-livered coward, that you are—now!”
“Petronilla Lawless, take care!” he hissed, with a fierce gleam of his eye.
“Take care of what? I’m not afraid of you, Rozzel Garnet,” flashed Pet. “Anything in the shape of a man who would go round playing the spy on an unprotected girl, has sunk rather low to be feared by me. Take care, you! I vow if there is such a thing as a cowhide in the country, I shall have you thrashed for this, within an inch of your cowardly life.”
“And get your attached friend, the gipsy beggar, to administer it—eh, Miss Lawless?” he said, with the smile of a fiend. “What a pity he is not here, like a true knight-errant, to rescue his lady-love!”
“It’s well for you he’s not, or he wouldn’t leave a whole bone in your miserable skin. Let me go, I tell you! Your presence is pollution,” said Pet, struggling to get free.
He held her with a grasp of iron, and watched her ineffectual efforts with a grim smile.
“I told you when we would meet again you would plead to me,” he said, with an evil gleam of his snake-like eyes. “That time has come.”
“Has it, indeed?” said Pet. “Well, if you have heard or are likely to hear me pleading to anybody under heaven, I must say you have a wonderful pair of ears. I have read of a gentleman called Fine-ear, who could hear the grass growing; but, upon my word, he couldn’t hold a candle to you!”
“The time will come, girl, when you will grovel and plead at my very feet, only to be spurned!” “Now, Mr. Garnet, look here,” said Pet; “you’re plagiarizing a story out of ‘The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.’ You needn’t think to palm it off on me as original, for I’ve read it, as well as you, and know all about the glass merchant, who fancied he would marry the vizier’s daughter, and have her kneeling at his feet, just as I am to do at your royal highness’s, you know; and then he would very ungallantly give her a kick, and in so doing smashed his basket of glass all to pieces. You needn’t think to take me in, you see; for my education has not been neglected more than your own.”
“Cease this fooling,” said Garnet, angrily, “and come with me. Resistance is useless. You are completely in my power, and may as well come quietly.”
“I won’t then! Not a step will I budge, if I die for it!” said Pet, planting her feet fairly in the yielding sand. “I am not in the habit of walking out with gentlemen at this hour of the evening, I would have you to know.