"I didn't find it a very difficult thing, master. Sailors are none so plentiful. Go on."
"When I found that you were determined to go in Joshua Marvel's ship, I bearing in mind that you have been as faithful as it is in the nature of such a dog as you to be, told you that the night before the ship sails, I would come down and give you a few necessaries which you said you required."
"Such as twenty-five pounds in gold," said the Lascar.
"Such as twenty-five pounds in gold," repeated Solomon Fewster, taking some packets from his pocket.
"Such as a six-bladed knife."
"Such as a six-bladed knife."
"Such as another knife with one blade."
"Such as another knife with one blade."
"Such as a silver watch and a silver chain."
"Such as a silver watch and a silver chain."
"Bah!" exclaimed the Lascar, in a voice of intense scorn, as he received the articles, one after another. "Look at the sky, master."
It was intensely dark; the clouds were black, there was no moon, and not a star was discernible. Solomon Fewster looked up, and said, "Well?"
"What can you see, master?"
"Nothing."
"Look at me" – he had walked away a few paces. "Can you see me?"
"I can see your form."
"Not my face, nor my eyes?"
"No, you dog!" answered Solomon Fewster hotly, for the Lascar's voice was contemptuously insolent.
"Bah! you are worse than I am. Too free with my knife, am I? I wonder whether you would be too free with your knife-in the dark? In the light I know you wouldn't be. You wouldn't have the pluck to use it. Look you, master: the first part of what you said was pretty well as things happened; but the last part-Well, you and me know all about that. And yet, although we're in the dark, and can't see each other's face, nor each other's eyes, you haven't pluck enough to tell the truth; you haven't pluck enough to say even to me, here in the dark, with no one by, that when I found that the 'Merry Andrew' was going to sea. I said to you, What a fine thing it would be for me to go in the same ship as Joshua Marvel, and to take advantage of any thing that might happen to do him a good turn and that then you mentioned-quite accidentally, of course-that if any thing should happen to him through me, you would give me fifty pounds if the 'Merry Andrew' came home without Joshua Marvel. You haven't pluck enough to say that then I said, 'Done!' and done it was; but that I-knowing you, master-made a point of having something in earnest of the bargain-such as twenty-five pounds in gold; such as a six-bladed knife; such as another knife with one blade; such as a silver watch and chain. Bah! If it wasn't that I was such a cursed fool when my blood is up, that I don't know what I do, and that, because of that, it is safer for me to leave the country than to remain in it, I would stop and feed upon you-I would, by God! – and worry the heart out of such a coward."
"You've been drinking," said Solomon Fewster, with difficulty suppressing his anger.
"What if I have? I know what I am saying well enough. I have had too much of your airs of superiority, and of your lies and your acting. Why, do you think that I would ever have done your dirty work, if it hadn't served my purpose? Do you think that if I hadn't sworn an oath, and marked it with my blood, to be revenged upon that damned upstart, Joshua Marvel, for what he did to me, I would go in his ship? Look you! I will do my share of the work, never fear, master; but I would have done it for next to nothing, if you were a man instead of a sneak!"
"You dog!" cried Solomon Fewster, in an uncontrollable burst of passion. "You have my money, my knives, and my watch upon you at this moment. I have half a mind to give you into custody for robbing me."
An exclamation of anger escaped the Lascar, and Solomon Fewster cursed himself inwardly for his injudiciousness the moment the words had passed his lips. A long silence followed, a silence lengthened by Solomon Fewster's fears; for he knew that he was in the Lascar's power, and could not consider himself safe while his dog was in the country.
"I didn't mean that," he said, with an awkward effort at conciliation; "but you were wrong to provoke me."
The Lascar did not reply, and Solomon Fewster's alarm increased every moment. "Why don't you speak?" he asked.
"I've been thinking, master," then said the Lascar with a quiet laugh-"I've been thinking that a man isn't safe with such a sneak as you, and I've made up my mind."
"To what?"
"To this; and if you don't do it, I'll go straight to Joshua Marvel and his pretty Ellen, and open their eyes to what you are."
"And ruin yourself," said Solomon Fewster, trembling in every limb like the coward he was.
"And ruin myself," said the Lascar composedly, "and you along with me."
"You do not know what you are saying."
"You shall see," said the Lascar, moving slowly away.
"Stop! What is it you want me to do?"
"If the 'Merry Andrew' returns without Joshua Marvel, and I, having done my work, come to you for my wages, it isn't unlikely that you'll hatch some charge against me which I sha'n't be able to face, for you are rich and I am poor. I will prevent this. You shall come with me now to my lodging-house, and you shall scratch upon the inside of my watch, 'From Solomon Fewster to his Lascar friend,' and you shall give me a paper saying as how you made me a present of the knives and the money because I have earned them. This is what I have made up my mind to, and what I intend to have done, as sure as there is a sky above us. What's more, I'm not going to have any palaver about it. If you don't follow me to my lodgings, where I am going this very minute, I'll peach upon you, by God!"
Without another word, he walked towards the town; and Salomon Fewster, in a tumult of fear and vain passion, followed him to his lodging, and unwillingly gave him his bond. That being done, the Lascar repeated that he might be depended upon for fulfilling his task; and Solomon Fewster took his leave with the consciousness that the basest of dogs considered himself superior to the master who used him.
Early the following morning Mrs. Marvel came down to Gravesend, and all preparations having been made by the Old Sailor, Joshua and Ellen were married. It was the quietest and happiest of weddings. There were but two guests-Mrs. Eliza, in a blaze of red ribbons, and Mrs. Eliza's husband, whose futile efforts to speak in whispers were the only evidences to Joshua and Ellen that the events of the morning were real. Every thing but that irrepressible voice was so hushed and subdued, that it seemed to belong more to a dream than any thing else. But it was a happy dream, marred by no cloud, made bright by perfect love. There was no happier person in the party than Mrs. Marvel.
"Now you are truly my daughter," she whispered to Ellen, "and really belong to me."
"I can't believe that I am awake, mother," said Joshua to Mrs. Marvel, as they two stood a little apart from the others; "yesterday I had no thought of this. I wonder if Dan is thinking of me! When will you tell him?"
"None of them will know, dear, until Ellen comes back, and that won't be until your ship is gone. Mr. Meddler says it will not sail for two days, so your honeymoon will be longer than you expected."
"And father! how surprised he will be!"
"He will approve, my dear, when I tell him all."
When she told him all! That means, thought Joshua, when she tells him about Minnie. But he said nothing aloud in answer. Minnie was in both his and his mother's thoughts, but neither of them mentioned her name.
"Look at her, Josh," said Mrs. Marvel, turning with affectionate pride to where Ellen stood, hanging tearfully upon the Old Sailor's arm; "no man ever had a greater treasure."
Joshua, gazing at the modest figure of his dear little woman, thought of the comparison he had once drawn between Ellen and Minnie. "Minnie is like the sea; Ellen like a peaceful lake." Every thing about her-her dress, her trustful face, the calm light in her eyes-was suggestive of peaceful love, a haven of refuge from the storms of life. She turned to him, and he hurried to her side, and took her arm on his.
"Darling," he whispered, "it seems too wonderful to be real. I am afraid that I shall wake up presently, and find that it is all a dream."
Thank God, that while this world of ours is pulsing with mean ambitions and unworthy strivings, with heartless pleasures and vicious desires, flowers of circumstance such as this bloom sometimes in the lives of the poorest among us.
Dinner was taken in Mrs. Eliza's private parlor which, abounded in family relics of great price, among which were especially conspicuous two brown-stone mandarins, who wagged their heads upon the mantle-shelf; two large pieces of white coral under glass shades; some stuffed parrots similarly protected from the ravages of time; and an impossible castle made with small shells. It was April weather with all the company, and smiles and tears alternately chased one another. Mrs. Eliza's husband proposed the toast of "The new-married couple," but, attempting to make a speech, could only get out the words, "And may they ever," which he repeated four or five times, without being able to explain himself. However, the toast was drunk not the less cordially, Mrs. Eliza's husband and the Old Sailor giving three times three in hearty sailor fashion. Then, it being nearly time for Mrs. Marvel to go back to Stepney, the Old Sailor rose, glass in hand, and said, -
"Mrs. Marvel, lady, if you was my own mother, my dear, which you couldn't be, seeing that I am old enough to be your father, but if you was my own mother, I couldn't honor you more. Some women are sent into the world expressly to be mothers; you're one of 'em, and a noble one you are, and a credit to Britannia. Here's may Josh and his lass ever be a pride to your heart, lady, as they have ever been, and may Josh be a skipper before he's thirty! And if a rusty old sailor like me, lady, can ever serve you, my dear, I shall be proud to be commanded by such a commander."
With that he drained his glass, and turning it upside down, took Mrs. Marvel's hand and kissed it, like the gallant knight he was. Amid tears and embraces and blessings, Mrs. Marvel took her departure, escorted by the Old Sailor; and the lovers were left to their quiet honeymoon. The "Merry Andrew" did not sail until two days afterwards, as the Old Sailor had said. All too swiftly flew by the hours in that brief time; and Joshua and Ellen found it harder to part than they had ever done before.
"I am pledged to you forever, darling," said Joshua, as they stood together during the last few minutes.
"And I to you, dear."
"I want a curl, Ellen; not to remind me of you, but to have something of you always near me."
She cut off one of her brown curls, and he kissed her and it, and placed it in the Bible Dan had given him.
"How shall I count the days, darling! But I shall see you through all my work. It is time for me to go. My undying faithful love for you. My undying faithful love for Dan. And now, put your arms about my neck, and say 'God bless you, and bring you safely back!'"
"God bless you, and bring you safely back, my dear, my heart's treasure!"
Her strength failed her here, and she was sinking to the ground.
"Take her, sir," said Joshua to the Old Sailor, who was standing a little apart. "May Heaven reward you for all your kindness!" He stooped and kissed her once more, and whispering, "I leave my heart behind me," hurried with uneven steps to the boat in waiting for him.
CHAPTER XXIV
FALSE FRIEND OR TRUE?
"I wish Ellen was at home," said Dan to himself, as he sat alone in the parlor which served as his training-room; "the house is quite lonely without her." Joshua had been gone from Stepney for four days, and, knowing how Dan would miss Ellen, Mrs. Marvel had insisted that he should stop at her house during that time. "There will be no one to attend to you, my dear," Mrs. Marvel had said to him; "Mr. Kindred is ill, and Minnie and Susan are fully employed waiting upon him." Dan acknowledged the superior claims of Mr. Kindred on Minnie's and Susan's attention, and consented to stop at Mrs. Marvel's house until Ellen returned. Now that Joshua was gone, however, he could not help thinking it strange that Minnie had not found time to run in and see him, if only for two or three minutes. He expressed this to Mrs. Marvel, who replied that Mr. Kindred was suffering much, she believed, and did not like Minnie to be away from him, loving her so dearly. "But it will be all right, my dear, when Ellen comes back," she said, "she will be able to assist the girls in their nursing." The uneasiness which Dan would have otherwise experienced at not seeing Minnie was allayed by the knowledge that she was doing her duty. Still he was glad when the morning came upon which Ellen was to return; for patient as he was, he was hungering to see Minnie. And now at last he was at home in his own little parlor, waiting almost impatiently for Ellen. He heard a sound in the passage, and he raised his hand in a listening attitude. "Ellen? No; Susan." The door opened, and Susan entered. Accustomed as he was to Susan's strange manner and to the alterations in it-morose one day and remorsefully affectionate the next-he had never seen her as as he saw her now. Her face was pinched as with some great agony, her hands wandered restlessly about her dress and over one another, her eyes dilated as he remembered them in the old days when she was tormented by the fear that terrible shapes were stealing upon her unaware. Yet, notwithstanding these distressing symptoms of a mind disturbed to its very uttermost, there was something still more painful in her appearance. This was the effort to appear calm and self-possessed, evidenced in the attempts she made to keep her hands still and her eyes from wandering around. But she could not bring color to her white face, nor composure to her quivering lips. No nerves are more difficult to master than those which directly affect the mouth, and many a hard-grained strong-minded man has betrayed himself by a twitching of his lips, which he has found it impossible to control. Dan had not seen Susan for more than a week, and he was appalled at the change in her. His first thought was of Minnie.
"What has happened, Susan?" he cried. "Minnie is not ill?"
He betrayed himself in the tone of anguish in which he made the inquiry. Susan twisted her fingers so tightly together that the blood left them, but she felt no pain.
"Why should Minnie be ill?" she asked. "You have not seen her, then?"
"Thank God!" Dan thought to himself; "it is not anxiety for Minnie that has changed her so."
"And her father, Susan?" he said aloud, more softly.
"Her father!" exclaimed Susan, approaching Dan so that he could take her hand; it was like ice. "Basil! He is stricken almost to death. I don't know what to do; and I am pledged, miserable woman that I am-I am pledged not to speak; not to divulge what I know!"
"Poor Susey!" said Dan soothingly, and in a tone of earnest sympathy, thinking that Susan's last words referred to what the doctor had told him of Basil's heart-disease. "Poor Mr. Kindred! I am grieved to the soul to hear it."
She strove to free her hand from his grasp; but he retained it.
"Tell me about Minnie, Susey," he implored. "Ah, if you knew how I am yearning to see her-how I am yearning to console her!"
At this appeal, so strong a trembling took possession of her, that her words, to any but the acutest sense, would not have been distinguishable.
"You, Dan!" she said, tightening her grasp upon his hand. "You yearning to see her! You yearning to console her! Why?"
"Susey, you will help me when I tell you. You will let me see her when I tell you. I love her!"
"My God!"
A deathlike silence followed, and Dan was almost frightened to break it, but he was constrained by his fears to speak.
"There is a hidden meaning in your words, Susan," he said in hushed tones, "that I cannot fathom. Give me some clew, if you have any love for me."
"I can give you none," she answered hurriedly, "until I am released from my pledge. Do not ask me any thing else-I don't think I am conscious of what I am saying. I will go up to Basil-to Mr. Kindred-and beg of him to see you. What is that?"
It was merely a knock at the street-door; but in Susan's nervous condition the sound was sufficient to cause her to start in alarm from Dan's side.
"Only a knock at the door, Susey. You have overtasked yourself, my dear, with nursing."
Susan hastened to the street-door, and Dan heard a voice ask if Mr. Basil Kindred lived there. "Yes," answered Susan. "Here is a letter for him; is it right?" "Quite right." And taking the letter from the messenger, Susan went up stairs to Basil Kindred's room. She had left the street-door open, and before another minute had passed, sunshine entered the house-sunshine, in the person of Ellen, who, radiant with joy, ran into the house and into the parlor, and clasping Dan round the neck, called him by the dearest of names, and kissed him again and again. What a bright flower she was! What a lovely flower she was! What nameless beauty had passed into her face, that caused Dan to thrill with pride that she was his sister, and caused him to wonder at the same time what change it was that had come over her and added to her loveliness? The sombre aspect of the room was gone; the chill, the fear, the dread of Susan's meaning was gone; the terror that had no reason in it, as far as he could see, was gone. For sunshine had entered the house.
"O my dear, dear Dan!" she cried, shedding tears in the fulness of her joy. "O my darling, darling brother! I am so happy to be with you again!"
She kissed his face a dozen times again, and hid hers on his neck, and kissed that too, until from Dan's heart, infected by her happiness, every particle of fear planted there by Susan's manner had fled. Truly, she was sunshine-the best, the dearest, the warmest.
"My dear, dear Ellen!" said Dan, returning her affectionate embrace, "how happy I am that you are back! I have been thinking how lonely the house is without you. But" – holding her face between his hands and looking at it, bright and blushing and beautiful-"you have grown positively lovely. What have you been doing with yourself these last four days?"
What had she been doing with herself? She laughed softly at the question, then ran and shut the door, and came back and sat on the floor at his feet, tucking up her dress to save it from the dust. She was in such a flutter even then-taking Dan's hand and fondling it-that he waited to speak until she was more composed. Presently she grew quieter, and resting her head on his knees, said, -
"Now, Dan, I am quiet. Ask me questions."
"To commence, then, when did you come back?"
"This very minute."
"Who brought you back?"
"Mr. Meddler."
"The dear old friend! Why didn't he come in to see me?"
"For reasons. He said that we had best be left alone, so that we might chat. He is coming to see you to-night."
"When did Joshua's ship go away?"
"The day before yesterday."
"Why, you little puss, you've been playing truant!"
"Mr. Meddler persuaded me; and yesterday Mr. Meddler and Mrs. Eliza and me went for a ride in the country."
"What a grand young lady you've got to be! And Jo! What about Jo?"
She nestled to him more caressingly; and he, passing his hand over her face, drew it away, with tears upon it.
"Crying, Nell?
"For happiness, Dan-for very happiness, my dear! What about Jo, you ask. I will speak his exact words-almost his last, dear-'My undying faithful love for Dan.'"
"Dear Jo! my dear, dearest brother!"
"That was not all he said, Dan; we were speaking of you all the day-you were never out of our thoughts, never out of his, I am sure. He is the dearest friend, the truest friend, the most faithful, the most constant, that happy man or woman ever had!"
"He is all that you say, dear Ellen, and I thank Heaven for giving him to us."
"Any more questions, Dan?"
"No; I can't think of any."
"Then I must tell you something without being asked," said Ellen: "I am the happiest woman in the world."
She arose, and standing at the back of his chair, clasped him round the neck, folding her hands one in the other, so that he should not see her wedding-ring. Then she inclined her lips to his ear, and was about to whisper the precious secret which made her the happiest woman in the world, when an agonized scream rang through the house. With affrighted looks they turned to each other for an explanation.
"It is Susan," said Dan, all his fears returning. "I have not had time to tell you, Ellen, but her manner just now frightened me. For Heaven's sake assist me up stairs!"
With his crutch under one arm, and his other round Ellen's neck, he went to Basil Kindred's room, and, pushing open the door, entered. Basil Kindred was sitting motionless in his chair, before a table on which were writing-materials; his head was thrown back as if he were asleep; one hand was on his heart, and the other, from which a letter had fallen was hanging listlessly down. And kneeling by his side was Susan, with a look of horror on her white face. But Minnie where was Minnie? No one had gone out of the house; if she had come down stairs, Dan must have heard her. He sank into a chair and gazed about him vacantly. It was not that the power of thought had left him, but that he was afraid to think. Susan, rocking herself to and fro, her face turned away, had taken no notice of their entrance.
"Ask her where Minnie is," said Dan to Ellen. He had tried to utter the words two or three times, but his throat was parched; and now his voice sounded so strange to him, that he wondered if he or some one else had spoken.
"Susan!" said Ellen, placing her hand on Susan's shoulder. "Susan, where is Minnie?"
But Susan did not heed her; and Ellen raising her eyes from Susan's face to that of Basil Kindred, retreated appalled to Dan's side. It looked like the face of one to whom death had come suddenly; perfectly peaceful, but terrible to see. Still she found strength to whisper to Dan, "Be strong, my dear, be strong. Shall I run and fetch mother?"
"Mother!" echoed Dan, with the same doubt upon him as to whether he or some one else were speaking. "Mother! Oh! Mrs. Marvel you, mean Jo's mother."
"Yes, dear, Jo's mother and ours. Shall I run and fetch her?"
"No, not yet. What is that paper by his side? Pick it up; give it to me."
Averting her eyes from Basil's face, Ellen picked up the letter and gave it to Dan. "It is Minnie's writing," she whispered.
"Hark!" said Dan.
It was the cockatoo that Joshua had brought home that startled him. It was screeching down stairs, "Dan, Ellen, Minnie! Bread-and-cheese and kisses! and kisses, and kisses!" ending with the usual running fire of kisses, until it lost its breath. When the bird was quiet, Dan looked at the letter in his hand.
"Minnie's writing," he said, trying to read it; but the words swam in his fading sight. "Read it, Ellen; I cannot make it out."
Ellen took the letter from his trembling hand, and read: -
"Father, – I have not gone from you because I do not love you, but because it was my fate to do what I have done. I could not resist it. I have nothing to say in justification of my conduct, except the words I heard you use to Joshua when you were telling him of my mother. I came into the room while you were speaking; it was dark, and neither you nor Joshua saw me. What you said of my mother then sank into my mind, and I can never forget it. Do you remember 'She loved me and sacrificed herself for me. Loving me, she conceived it to be her duty to follow me; she forsook friends and family for me, and I bless her for it. Her devotion, unworldly as it was, was sanctified by love. There is no earthly sacrifice that love will not sanctify.' As my mother did, so I have done. It will be useless searching for me; for when you read this, I shall be hundreds of miles away on the sea. If you guess my secret, keep it for the sake of my good name; and for the sake of my good name do not let any other eyes but yours see this letter. If it were possible for me to have a wish fulfilled, I would pray that I might die before this reaches you. On my knees I ask you to forgive your unhappy
"Minnie."
No one but Ellen noticed the entrance of Solomon Fewster while the letter was being read; and she, with a warning finger to her lips, restrained him by that gesture from coming forward. So he stood silent and attentive within the doorway. As the words came slowly and painfully from Ellen's lips, each of them cut into Dan's heart like a knife. Ellen had seen his sufferings, and would have ceased reading, but that he motioned her to proceed.
"So, then," said Dan, after a long and painful pause, "Minnie is gone. What have I to live for now? I would have been content if she had only been near me; if I could have heard her voice or the rustle of her dress to assure me of her beloved presence. Without that, my life is dark indeed. But where has she gone?"
He asked the question of himself; but Susan starting to her feet, answered him.
"Where has she gone? Where else but to sea in the 'Merry Andrew,' with your false friend Joshua Marvel? And the knowledge of it has killed her father!"
"It is false!" cried Dan in a clear ringing voice. "It is false, you bad sister!"
"It is true, Daniel Taylor," said Solomon Fewster in his smooth oily voice. "I have here a letter from a sailor on board the 'Merry Andrew,' informing me that Minnie and Joshua are on the same ship."
At this corroborative testimony, Susan fell upon her knees, and raised her arms.
"Curse that false friend!" she cried.
But Ellen fell at her side, exclaiming, "O Susan, Susan, restrain your tongue! For all our sakes-for my sake! He is my husband!"
Whereat Solomon Fewster, upon whose face there had hitherto been an ill-concealed expression of triumph, crushed the letter he held in his hand, and muttered a bitter curse.
And Dan, folding Ellen in his arms, said, -
"Hush, my sister, hush! Blessings on your wedding-ring! Blessings on your husband and my true friend! We shall live to see him give the lie to slanderous tongues. I have something to live for now-to defend the honor of my brother!"