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} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Heiress of Wyvern Court, by Emilie +Searchfield</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Heiress of Wyvern Court</p> +<p>Author: Emilie Searchfield</p> +<p>Release Date: August 25, 2007 [eBook #22398]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEIRESS OF WYVERN COURT***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by David Wilson, Chuck Greif,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="major"> +<div class="cover"> +<p class="illus"><img src="images/cover-small.jpg" width="310" height="471" + alt="" title="Book cover: The Heiress of Wyvern Court" /></p> +</div> + +<div class="tp"> + +<p class="illus"><span class="ns">[p</span><span class="pgmark">2</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span><a name="png.001" id="png.001"></a><img + src="images/illus001-sml.jpg" width="325" height="515" + alt="" title="" /><br + />“<span class="thinsp">‘GOOD MORNING, MADAME GICHE’</span>” + (<a href="#png.066" title="Go to text of page 65."><cite>p. 65</cite></a>).</p> + + + + +<h1><span class="ns">[p</span><span class="pgmark">3</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span><a + name="png.002" id="png.002"></a>THE HEIRESS OF <br /> + WYVERN COURT</h1> + + +<p class="h5 vfill">BY</p> +<p class="h2">E. SEARCHFIELD</p> +<p class="h6">AUTHOR OF “CLAIMED AT LAST”</p> + + +<p class="h5 ital vfill">ILLUSTRATED</p> + + +<p class="h2 vfil">CASSELL and COMPANY, Limited</p> +<p class="h5 ital">LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE</p> +<p class="h5">1900</p> +<p class="h6">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> + + + +</div> + +<p class="illus prvfil"><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">4</span><span class="ns">] </span><a + name="png.003" id="png.003"></a><img src="images/illus003.png" width="109" height="110" + alt="" title="Publisher’s device (La Belle Sauvage)" /></p> + + +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.004" id="png.004"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">5</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table class="toc" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td></td><td></td><td></td><td class="right smaller">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="right top">CHAPTER I.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.008">In the Railway Carriage—New Friends</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.008">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">II.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.020">Willett’s Farm—Tea in the Dining-room</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.020">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">III.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.034">Dr. Willett—The Nutting Expedition—The Fire</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.034">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">IV.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.048">Oscar’s Burnt Arm—Black Hole</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.048">47</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">V.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.062">Inna at the Owl’s Nest—More Wrong Steps</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.062">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">VI.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.074">Inna’s Firstfruits—On the Tor</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.074">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">VII.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.087">Oscar Lost—A Fruitless Search</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.087">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">VIII.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.097">At the Owl’s Nest—The Song—The Surprise</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.097">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">IX.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.110">Oscar’s Return—The Mystery Cleared—On the Tor Again</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.110">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">X.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.120">The Expedition to Swallow’s Cliff—Caught by the Tide</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.120">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">XI.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.136">The Rescue—Cloudy Days—Good News at Last</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.136">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="ditto"> " </td><td class="right top">XII.</td> + <td class="chap">—<a href="#png.151">New Thoughts and Ways—The Heiress of Wyvern Court</a></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.151">146</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + +<h2 class="chap prvfil"><a name="png.006" id="png.006"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">7</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table class="loi" summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr><td class="top">“<span + class="thinsp"><a href="#png.001">‘<ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original reads 'Good-morning'">Good morning</ins>, + Madame Giche’</a></span>”</td> + <td colspan="2" class="right normal btm"><a href="#png.001"><cite>Frontispiece</cite></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="top">“<a href="#png.040">A donkey and cart came driving up</a>”</td> + <td class="right normal btm xsp"><cite>To face page</cite></td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.040">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="top">“<a href="#png.132">It snapped, and he was gone</a>”</td> + <td class="ditto2"> " </td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.132">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="top">“<a href="#png.148">Dick shook her by the hand</a>”</td> + <td class="ditto2"> " </td> + <td class="right btm"><a href="#png.148">144</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + + +<div class="main"> +<h1 class="chap"><span + class="ns">[p</span><span class="pgmark">9</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span><a + name="png.008" id="png.008"></a>THE HEIRESS OF WYVERN COURT.</h1> + + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap1">CHAPTER I.<br /> + +<small>IN THE RAILWAY CARRIAGE—NEW FRIENDS.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword">“<span>Well</span>, little friend, and where do you hail from?”</p> + +<p>The speaker was a merry-faced, brown-eyed boy of eleven, with curly +brown hair—just the school-boy all over.</p> + +<p>He had leaped into a railway carriage with cricket-bat, fishing-rod, and +a knowing-looking little hamper, which he deposited on the seat beside +him; then away went the snorting steam horse, train, people, and all, +and out came this abrupt question. “Little friend” was a mite of a girl +of nine, dressed in a homely blue serge frock and jacket, with blue +velvet hat to match: a shy little midge of a grey-eyed maiden, with +sunny brown curls twining about her forehead +<a name="png.009" id="png.009"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">10</span><span class="ns">] </span>and rippling down upon her +shoulders, nestling in one corner of the carriage—the sole occupant +thereof until this merry questioner came to keep her company.</p> + +<p>“I don’t quite know what you mean,” was the little girl’s reply—a +sweet, refined way of speaking had she, and her eyes sparkled with shy +merriment, although there was a startled look in them too.</p> + +<p>“Well, where do you come from, my dear mademoiselle?” and now the merry +speaker made a courtly bow.</p> + +<p>“From London—but I’m not French, you know,” was the retort, with the +demurest of demure smiles.</p> + +<p>“No—just so; and where are you going?” One could but answer him, his +questions came with such winning grace of manner.</p> + +<p>“To Cherton—to uncle—to Mr. Jonathan Willett’s.”</p> + +<p>“Cherton! why, that’s not far from my happy destination. I get out only +one station before you.”</p> + +<p>“Little friend” smiled her demure little smile again, as if she was glad +to hear it.</p> + +<p><a name="png.010" id="png.010"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">11</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“So you’re going to Mr. Willett’s—Dr. Willett he’s generally called, +being a physician,” continued the boy, after glancing from the window a +second or two, as if to note how fast the landscape was rushing past the +train, or the train past the landscape.</p> + +<p>“Yes; do you know him?” inquired the silvery tongue of the other.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes; I know him!”—a short assent, comically spoken.</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” sighed the little girl, as if the thought oppressed her.</p> + +<p>“Then you’d like to know what he’s like,” spoke the boy, using the word +like twice for want of another.</p> + +<p>“Yes—only—only would it be nice to talk about a person—one’s uncle, +one doesn’t know, <span class="nobr">be——”</span> she did not like to say behind his back, but +the faltering little tongue stuck fast, and the small sensitive face of +the child looked a little confused.</p> + +<p>“Ah! behind his back,” spoke the boy readily. “Well, perhaps not; but +you’ll know him soon enough, I’m quite sure, and all about Peggy, too. +Peggy is the best of the couple,” he added.</p> + +<p><a name="png.011" id="png.011"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">12</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Do you mean Mrs. Grant, my uncle’s housekeeper?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that very lady—only, you see, I like to call her Peggy.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” returned the child, supposing she ought to say something.</p> + +<p>“’Tis a farm, you know—jolly old place. Do you know that?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—that is, I know ’tis a farm; mamma told me that. But I didn’t know +’twas jolly; mamma said ’twas very pretty, and home-like, and nice.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes! just a lady’s view of the place,” nodded the boy approvingly. +“The farm is the best part of it all, and so you’ll say <span class="nobr">when——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps we’ll not talk about it,” broke in “little friend” timidly.</p> + +<p>“Well, you are a precise little lady not to talk about a farm, your +uncle’s farm, behind its back,” laughed the boy.</p> + +<p>“It’s mamma’s uncle,” corrected the little maiden.</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes! and your great uncle. Well, I thought he was an old fogey to +be your uncle—I beg your pardon—old <em>gentleman</em> I mean.” He +<a name="png.012" id="png.012"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">13</span><span class="ns">] </span>laughed +and made a low bow, but his cheeks took a rosier tint at that real slip +of his tongue.</p> + +<p>“Well, suppose we talk about ourselves; that wouldn’t be behind our own +backs, would it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh no!” came with a pretty jingle of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Do you know my name? Dick.”</p> + +<p>“I thought so,” replied the little girl.</p> + +<p>“You did!—why?”</p> + +<p>“You look like a Dick.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s just like a girl’s bosh—but still, you’re right: I am +Dick Gregory, son of George Gregory, surgeon, living at Lakely, next +station to Cherton, where you get out, you know.”</p> + +<p>The girl nodded.</p> + +<p>“Now, mademoiselle, what may your name be?” he asked, as the train +carried them into the station with a whiz.</p> + +<p>“Inna Weston.”</p> + +<p>“Inna: is that short for anything?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—for Peninnah: papa’s mother’s name is Peninnah; and so, and +<span class="nobr">so——”</span></p> + +<p>“And so your father chose to let you play grandmother to yourself in the +matter of names?”</p> + +<p><a name="png.013" id="png.013"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">14</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Yes,” a little ripple of a word full of laughter—her companion was so +funny.</p> + +<p>“Now guess what’s in this hamper?” was Dick’s next proposition; “that’s +safe ground, you know, to guess over a hamper when the owner bids you,” +he added, by way of encouragement.</p> + +<p>“A kitten.” The train was carrying them on again, without any intruder +to cut off the thread of their talk, except the guard, who put his head +in at the window, and beamed a smile on Inna, as her caretaker; then he +shut the door, and locked them in, and here was the train tearing on +again.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, you are a good guesser for a girl,” said Dick.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t guess: I knew it. I heard her mew,” smiled Inna.</p> + +<p>“Ah! Miss Inna is a little pitcher, pussy; she has sharp ears,” said +pussy’s master, peering and speaking through the hamper.</p> + +<p>“Me—e—e—w!” came like a prolonged protest against all the +hurry-scurry and noise, so confusing to a kitten shut up in a hamper, +not knowing why nor whither she was travelling.</p> + +<p><a name="png.014" id="png.014"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">15</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Now, who am I taking her to? guess that; and if you guess right, I +should say you’re a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, and of gipsy +origin”—so the merry boy challenged her.</p> + +<p>“To your sister.”</p> + +<p>“Right!” laughed Dick.</p> + +<p>“But I’m not a seventh daughter—I’m only daughter to mamma, and so was +mamma before me; and I’m not a gipsy.” Inna’s face was brimming over +with shy merriment.</p> + +<p>“Well, you ought to be, for you’re a clever guesser of dark secrets,” +returned the boy. “Yes: I’m taking pussy home to my sister. Her name +is—now, what is her name?”</p> + +<p>Inna shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Something pretty I should say, but I don’t know what.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! you’re not much of a witch after all,” said Dick. “No, it isn’t +anything pretty—it’s Jane.”</p> + +<p>Inna smiled, and looked wise.</p> + +<p>“Well, what is it, Miss Inna? Out with it!” cried Dick, watching her +changeful little face.</p> + +<p>“Mamma says, when one has an ugly name one must try to live a life to +make it beautiful.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.015" id="png.015"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">16</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Hum! Well, that isn’t bad. And when one has a beautiful name—like +Dick, for instance,” said he waggishly, “what then?”</p> + +<p>“Then the name should help the life, and the life the name—so mamma +said when I asked her.”</p> + +<p>“Well, your mother must be good,” said Dick to this.</p> + +<p>“Yes, she is.” Wistful lights were stealing into Inna’s eyes, and Dick +had a suspicion that there were tears in them.</p> + +<p>“I’m not blest with one,” spoke he, carelessly to all seeming.</p> + +<p>“With no mother?” inquired his companion gently.</p> + +<p>“I’m sort of foster-child to Meggy, our cook and housekeeper—ours is +Meggy, you know, and yours is Peggy, at Willett’s Farm.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” smiled Inna, “yes.” She had tided over that tenderness of spirit +caused by speaking of her mother.</p> + +<p>The train was steaming into a station again, but no passenger intruded; +only the guard peeped in, as caretaker, to see if she was safe, as Dick +remarked, when they were moving on again.</p> + +<p><a name="png.016" id="png.016"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">17</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Has he got you under his wing?” asked he.</p> + +<p>“The guard has me under his care; ma—mamma asked him to see me safe.” +The wistfulness was coming into her eyes again.</p> + +<p>“So she has a mother; I thought perhaps she hadn’t,” thought Dick. Aloud +he said bluffly, “’Tis well to be a girl, to have all made smooth for +one. Now here am I, come all the way from Wenley, turned out of school +because of the measles, and never a creature as much as to say, ‘Have +you got a ticket, or money to buy one?’”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but they’d not let you come without a ticket,” smiled Inna.</p> + +<p>“I mean our chums at school, and father at home. Of course my father +knew I was all right about money, because he’d just sent my quarter’s +allowance.”</p> + +<p>“And have they got the measles at your school?”</p> + +<p>“Yes: are you afraid of me? Infection, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Afraid? oh no!”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you caught it you’d be all right, your uncle being a doctor. A +doctor at a farm<a name="png.017" id="png.017"></a><span class="ns"> [p</span><span + class="pgmark">18</span><span class="ns">] </span>—queer, isn’t it, now?” So Dick went skimming from +subject to subject, very like a swallow skimming over the surface of +water after flies and gnats.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Inna could but confess it was—very guardedly, though, lest they +might verge upon gossip again.</p> + +<p>“But Peggy’s the farmer; your uncle has enough to do to look after his +patients. He’s a clever fo—man—so clever that some say he’s got +medicine on the brain.”</p> + +<p>Inna’s lips were sealed conscientiously; but out of the brief silence +that followed she put the safe <span class="nobr">question—</span></p> + +<p>“What colour’s your kitten?”</p> + +<p>“White. Wouldn’t you like to take a peep at her?” and good-natured Dick +held the hamper so that she might catch a glimpse of the small +four-legged traveller.</p> + +<p>“She’s a beauty!”—such was Inna’s opinion of her.</p> + +<p>“And, according to you, she ought to have a beautiful name. But what of +my sister Jane? I call her Jenny, and Jin; and that reminds me of the +other gin with a g, you know; and that + <a name="png.018" id="png.018"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">19</span><span class="ns">] </span>carries me on to trap, and +trapper. I sometimes call her Trapper. That sounds quite romantic, and +carries one away into North American Indian story life. Have you ever +read any North American Indian stories—about Indians, and scalps, and +all that?”</p> + +<p>“No,” was the decisive, though smiling, reply.</p> + +<p>Ah! they were steaming into a station again.</p> + +<p>“Lakely at last, and this is my station!” cried Dick, gathering his +belongings together, so as to be ready to leap out when the train +stopped, while a porter went shouting up and down the platform, “Lakely! +Lakely!”</p> + +<p>“Well, good-bye, little friend; mind, Cherton comes next, then ’twill be +your turn to turn out.” He wrung her hand, and was out on the platform +in a twinkle, loaded like a bee, happy as a boy.</p> + +<p>“I say, Miss Inna, I should like you to come over to our place to see +Jenny, or Trapper. I shall ask the doctor to give you a lift over in his +gig,” he put his head back into the carriage to say.</p> + +<p>Now he was scudding away down the platform, and claiming a trunk and +portmanteau from a medley of luggage, had it set aside by the <a name="png.019" id="png.019"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">20</span><span class="ns">] </span>porter, +who seemed to know him; this done, he darted back again, smiled in at +the carriage window, where that sweet girlish face still watched him, +and then vanished.</p> + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.020" id="png.020"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">21</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER II.<br /> + +<small>WILLETT’S FARM—TEA IN THE DINING-ROOM.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword">“<span>Cherton</span>! Cherton! Cherton!”</p> + +<p>Inna sprang from the corner of her lonely carriage, and stepped out upon +the platform, helped by the kindly guard.</p> + +<p>“Now, my dear, what’s to be done? There’s nobody here waiting for you, +as I see,” said the man, looking up and down the small platform, where +she seemed to be the only arrival—she and her neat little trunk, which +a porter brought and set down at her feet.</p> + +<p>“No, they don’t know I’m coming,” returned the child, with a sober shake +of her head.</p> + +<p>“Where for, miss?” inquired the porter, as the guard looked at him.</p> + +<p>“My—Mr. Willett’s, at Willett’s Farm,” said Inna, in a sort of startled +importance at having to speak for herself.</p> + +<p>“Do you know the way?” asked the man.</p> + +<p><a name="png.021" id="png.021"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">22</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“No; but I should if you told me—I <span class="nobr">mean——”</span></p> + +<p>“Yes, miss; I know what you mean,” replied the porter, noting her +childish confusion. “I’ll see to her, and send her safely,” he promised +the busy guard, and took her small gloved hand in his, and led her away +out into the open road by the station, stretching away among fields, all +bathed in crimson and golden sunshine.</p> + +<p>“Now, miss,” said he, pointing with his finger, “you go along this road +and turn to your right, and along a lane, turn to your right, and along +another; don’t turn to your left at all; then turn to your right again, +and there you are at Willett’s Farm. Do you understand?” he asked +kindly, bending down to something like her height, so as to get her view +of the way.</p> + +<p>“Yes, thank you; I must keep to the right all the way, and turn three +times—but I don’t think I quite know what a farm is like,” confessed +she bravely.</p> + +<p>“Oh, miss, that’s easy; there isn’t another house before you reach the +farm—the village is above Willett’s Farm.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you; then I’ll think I’ll go now.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.022" id="png.022"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">23</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“You’ll not lose yourself? I’d go with you, but I expect another train +in almost directly, and there isn’t a soul about here that I could send. +And about your box, miss: will you send for it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ll send for it; and—and I don’t think I shall lose myself.”</p> + +<p>“Then good evening, miss.” The porter touched his hat, and she bade him +“good evening” in return; then the child went wandering down the road +from the station—a blue dot in the evening sunshine.</p> + +<p>Well, she took her three turnings to the right, and they brought her to +the farm, lying not far up the last lane; the farm-buildings—barn, +stable, and a whole clump of outbuildings—lying back from the road a +little, and all lit up by the last rays of sunset. The house looked out +upon the lane, where the shadows were gathering fast, under the +many-tinted elm trees overshadowing it. Three spotlessly white steps led +up to the front door, a strip of green turf lying each side, enclosed by +green iron railings, and shut in by a little green gate. A quaint old +house it was, with many crooks, corners, + <a name="png.023" id="png.023"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">24</span><span class="ns">] </span>and gables, and small lattice +diamond-paned windows, through one of which gleamed the ruddy glow of a +fire. Ah! the air was crisp, the sun well-nigh gone, the evening +creeping on. Inna sighed, and, tripping through the little green gate, +mounted the three white steps, and, by dint of straining, reached up, +and knocked with the knocker almost as loudly as a timid mouse. But it +brought an answer, in the shape of a middle-aged woman, in a brown stuff +gown, white apron and cap, dainty frillings of lace encircling her face. +A sober face it was, yet kindly, peering down in astonishment at our +small heroine, standing silent there among the deepening shadows in the +crisp chilly air.</p> + +<p>“Well, dearie, what is it?” she questioned, as the child opened her lips +to speak, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>“I’m Inna: please may I come in and tell you all about it?” asked the +silvery tongue then.</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course—that is, if you have anything to tell;” and with this +the woman made way for the little girl to pass her, and shut the door.</p> + +<p>“This way,” she said; and that was to the kitchen.</p> + +<p><a name="png.024" id="png.024"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">25</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>Such a clean, cheery, comfortable place, with its wood fire filling it +with ruddy glow and warmth, which was like a silent welcome.</p> + +<p>“Now, who’s ill and wants a doctor? Sick folks’ messengers shouldn’t +lag,” said the woman, scanning her visitor as they both stood in the +firelight glow.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nobody is ill; and I only—I mean—I don’t know where to begin,” +was the bewildering answer.</p> + +<p>“Well, of course you know what brought you,” suggested the other.</p> + +<p>“Oh, the train brought me; and I’ve come to stay here.”</p> + +<p>“You have?” asked the woman.</p> + +<p>“Yes; because Uncle Jonathan gave mamma a home once, when she was a +little girl; and she said he would me, if she sent me.”</p> + +<p>“And who are you? and who’s your mamma?”</p> + +<p>“I’m Inna; and mamma is Uncle Jonathan’s niece.”</p> + +<p>“You aren’t Miss Mercy’s daughter?” said the woman.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’m Miss Mercy’s daughter; and now, + <a name="png.025" id="png.025"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">26</span><span class="ns">] </span>please, may I sit down?” +asked the little tired voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes, poor little unwelcome lamb; I’ll not be the one to deny that to +Miss Mercy’s daughter. Come here;” and she set her own cushioned +rocking-chair forward on the hearth. “But where is Miss Mercy? and why +did she send you here?”</p> + +<p>“Mamma is gone abroad with papa. Some people are afraid he’s dying; +and”—Inna’s heart was full—“I’ve a letter in my pocket for Uncle +Jonathan, to tell him all about it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, this will be news for master—unwelcome news, I’m +thinking,” muttered the woman as to herself, but speaking aloud.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean I shan’t be welcome?” asked a strained little voice from +the rocking-chair.</p> + +<p>“Well, dearie, welcome or not, here you are, and here you must stay for +to-night, at any rate. You see, Dr. Willett has one child on his hands +already, and he’s a handful. I doubt if he’ll want another. But then, we +must all have what we don’t want sometimes—eh, miss?”</p> + +<p>To this Inna sighed a troubled little “Yes.”</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Grant—for she it was—bethought + <a name="png.026" id="png.026"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">27</span><span class="ns">] </span>her to help her off with her +jacket and hat, and inquired had she any belongings at the station? Yes, +she had a trunk there; and an unknown Will—at least, unknown to +Inna—was despatched for it.</p> + +<p>“But maybe you’d like some tea?” suggested the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I should, please,” the little lady assured her, folding her jacket +neatly, as she had been taught.</p> + +<p>“Well, they’re just having tea in the dining-room. Come along.”</p> + +<p>No use for Inna to shrink or shiver, for Mrs. Grant was leading the way +to those unknown tea-drinkers of whom she was to form one; the +fire-light from the kitchen showing them the way along a passage. Then a +door was opened, and the small shiverer thrust in, not unkindly, with +the <span class="nobr">words—</span></p> + +<p>“A little lady come for a bit and a sup with you, sir.”</p> + +<p>Then the door closed, and she was in another fire-lit room. A lamp, too, +burnt on a table in front of a wood fire, on which was laid a quaint +old-fashioned tea equipage, with a hissing urn, + <a name="png.027" id="png.027"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">28</span><span class="ns">] </span>and all complete. On +the hearth knelt a lad, making toast; and by his side, leaning against +the mantelpiece, was a tall man—red-haired, with streaks of grey in +that of both head and closely-clipped beard. He had keen grey eyes, +which seemed to scan Inna through; a small mouse-like figure by the +door, afraid to advance.</p> + +<p>“Oscar, where are your manners?” asked the gentleman, “to treat a lady +in this way, when she’s thrust upon you?”</p> + +<p>Thrust: here was another word which seemed to say she was not welcome.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” lisped the child, thinking she ought to speak.</p> + +<p>“No, no; a lady is very like a king—she never does wrong or needs +pardon; ’tis this great lout of a boy here that is the aggressor.”</p> + +<p>Whereupon the somewhat awkward, shy lad on the hearth laid down knife +and toasting-fork, and came towards her.</p> + +<p>“Well, whoever you are, will you please sit here?” said he, setting her +a chair by the table, and taking another himself behind the urn.</p> + +<p>“With a lady in the room, you’ll never do that,” said the gentleman, +spying comically at <a name="png.028" id="png.028"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">29</span><span class="ns">] </span>him from where he still stood on the hearth, as the +boy began to brew the tea.</p> + +<p>“Oh no, thank you; I couldn’t manage the urn,” said Inna.</p> + +<p>“I thought not,” growled Oscar, a big, handsome, fair-haired boy of +eleven, with grey-blue eyes. “And now, here I am without a cup for you.”</p> + +<p>Inna had not taken the seat he offered her by the table, but had glided +round to the gentleman on the hearth. Oscar made a bolt from the room to +fetch a cup and saucer.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you say you will like to have me here, Uncle—Uncle Jonathan?” +she asked hesitatingly. Such a mite she was, glancing up at the tall +red-haired gentleman turning grey, such blushes coming and going in her +cheeks.</p> + +<p>“My dear little lady, I think you’re just the one element wanting in our +male community: a little girl in our midst will save us from settling +down into the savages we’re fast becoming,” replied the gentleman, +glancing down in an amused way at her from his superior height.</p> + +<p>“Well, isn’t that welcome enough?” he asked, still with that comical +smile, as Inna gave a <a name="png.029" id="png.029"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">30</span><span class="ns">] </span>puzzled glance at him, as if not quite +comprehending his high talk, and fumbling in her dress pocket.</p> + +<p>“I have a letter that will tell you all about me—why I’ve come, you +know,” said she.</p> + +<p>“Ah yes, Dr. Willett’s letter,” he remarked, taking the missive from her +and balancing it between his finger and thumb. Just then Oscar came back +with a rush.</p> + +<p>“I know all about you, and who you are,” said he, putting down the cup +and saucer he had brought with a clatter. “You’re a sort of half-cousin +of mine, and a great-niece of Uncle Jonathan’s,” he blurted out.</p> + +<p>“Well, since you know so much, suppose you come here and enlighten your +new half-cousin as to who I am. She has mistaken me for her uncle—and +naturally too, since you, as host for the time being, were rude enough +not to introduce us.”</p> + +<p>At this reproach Oscar left his tea-making, and approached the two: Inna +with burning cheeks, at her mistake about this unknown gentleman, not +her uncle.</p> + +<p>“Well, this is Mr. Barlow—Dr. Barlow, some + <a name="png.030" id="png.030"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">31</span><span class="ns">] </span>people call him, but he’s +no such thing; he’s a surgeon, and the one who plays David to Uncle +Jonathan—you understand?” questioned the boy, with humour sparkling in +his blue-grey eyes.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” nodded Inna shyly; “his very dear friend, you mean.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s about the figure,” was the response, while the two bowed +with ceremony.</p> + +<p>“And now, I am—tell Mr. Barlow who I am, please,” pleaded the small +maiden.</p> + +<p>“Well, this is Miss Inna Weston, the daughter of a certain Mercy +Willett, niece of Jonathan Willett, Doctor, who lived here years ago, +before my time. Now, old man, come to tea.” With this, the boy slapped +the other on the arm with pleasant familiarity, and went back to his +tea-making.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barlow led Inna to her seat, and saw her comfortable there, taking +his own chair beside her, while Oscar sat with his back to the +fire—like a cat on a frosty night, Mr. Barlow told him. Inna wondered +where her uncle was, but asked no questions as yet—only munched away at +her toast in her dainty way, and sipped her tea, + <a name="png.031" id="png.031"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">32</span><span class="ns">] </span>trying hard to feel +that she was at home. As for Oscar, he made such sloppy work with the +urn, that Mr. Barlow had to say presently—</p> + +<p>“Don’t make a sea of the +table, boy. You see what incapable creatures we are, Miss Inna. I never +could make tea, and your own eyes tell you what Oscar can do.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose Uncle Jonathan makes tea when he is here,” was Inna’s reply.</p> + +<p>At which the two gentlemen looked comically at each other.</p> + +<p>“Well, I can’t say I ever saw the doctor come down from the clouds +enough for that,” observed Mr. Barlow dryly; “but I hope his little +great-niece—am I right in the pedigree, Oscar?—will set us to rights, +and bring in the age of civilisation for us.”</p> + +<p>Inna could but laugh a tinkling laugh at this, and asked timidly, “Do +you live here, Mr. Barlow?”</p> + +<p>“No, dear; but I’m here morning, noon, and night. My head-quarters are +at Mrs. Tussell’s, whose name ought to be, now, guess what?”</p> + +<p>People must suppose she had an aptitude for + <a name="png.032" id="png.032"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">33</span><span class="ns">] </span>guessing, Inna thought, and +asked with rosy cheeks was it “Fussy”?</p> + +<p>“Just the word; only you mustn’t tell her so,” was the reply; at which +Inna shook her head, and said she could not be so rude. Then came the +sound of the doctor’s gig outside the house, a step and a voice in the +passage.</p> + +<p>“He’ll not come in here, dear,” Mr. Barlow told Inna, seeing her start +and change colour; “he’ll have a cup of tea in his den, as we call it,” +at which Oscar nodded, and said, “And a good name too!”</p> + +<p>Tea over, Mr. Barlow rose, and said “Good-bye for to-night, Miss Inna; +David is going to Jonathan,” patted her head, and was gone.</p> + +<p>“Is his real name David?” she asked shyly of this cousin she had no idea +of finding at Uncle Jonathan’s; nor had her mamma either, she decided in +her own mind.</p> + +<p>“No; William—Billy Barlow they call him in the village, only I didn’t +say so just now,” returned Oscar drily.</p> + +<p>“Mind your lessons, Master Oscar,” said Mrs. Grant, when she came in to +fetch the tea equipage.</p> + +<p><a name="png.033" id="png.033"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">34</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Fudge!” was the boy’s response, he and Inna established on the hearth, +roasting chestnuts; and they were still there when Dr. Willett surprised +them by a footfall close behind them.</p> + +<p>Up sprang Inna, like a startled daisy.</p> + +<p>“So you’re Mercy’s little daughter?” said he, by way of greeting.</p> + + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.034" id="png.034"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">35</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER III.<br /> + +<small>DR. WILLETT—THE NUTTING EXPEDITION—THE FIRE.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword">“<span>So</span> you’re Mercy’s little daughter?” said the doctor, by way of +greeting.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” faltered Inna; but she put her hand in his; this Uncle Jonathan, +with whom she had come to live, was all she had in England now, except +Oscar and Mr. Barlow, who was nobody as yet. The doctor pressed her +small hand in his big strong one. Tall—taller than his friend +David—was he, with dark hair and beard—at least, they had been dark, +but were fast turning grey; his eyes were dark, piercing, and observant, +full of fire; still, a kindly face, a kindly manner had he.</p> + +<p>“Well, little woman, I’ve read your mother’s letter. I never intended to +be troubled with any more children after Oscar fell to my lot; but for +your mother’s sake, and her mother’s + <a name="png.035" id="png.035"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">36</span><span class="ns">] </span>before her, I can’t shut my door +against you. So now stay, and see if you can’t open another door on your +own account.” This is what he said, still holding her hand in his.</p> + +<p>“Do you know what door I mean?” he asked, as the child darted an upward +glance at him.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she nodded, “yes.” She could not say more, her heart was thumping +so, but her small twining fingers in the doctor’s palm told him a great +deal.</p> + +<p>He patted her on the head, and let her go; he did not kiss her. Inna +wished he had when, later on, she was in bed, thinking of the many +to-morrows she was to spend in this new uncle’s house. Her chamber was +up in one of the gables of the quaint old house; the windows overlooked +the garden and the home orchard, where, in the former, Michaelmas +daisies and sunflowers flaunted in the sunshine when she looked out the +next morning, and apples, rosy and golden, were waiting to be gathered +in the latter. Birds were twittering and peeping at her through the +ivy-wreathed window; away in the stubble fields, under the hills, sheep +were straying, all in a glory of golden light; while rooks cawed + <a name="png.036" id="png.036"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">37</span><span class="ns">] </span>and +clamoured in the many-coloured elms by the house and garden, and all +sweet morning freshness was everywhere. You may be sure she soon +dressed, and tripped down the old-fashioned staircase—a dainty midge, +in blue serge frock and white-bibbed apron. Below, she found Mary, the +servant under the housekeeper, laying breakfast in the dining-room; and +while the child stood shyly aloof by a window, in came Mrs. Grant with +the urn, and her master behind her. Inna stepped forward, but her uncle +took no notice of her; he only passed on to his seat at the table, took +up his letters and newspaper, and, as it were, thus stepped into a world +of his own. Oscar stole in like a thief, and began his usual +tea-making—placing a cup by his uncle’s plate, upon which he laid +slices of ham, carved as best he could; Inna, at a nod from him, cutting +a piece of bread to keep company with the ham; while Mrs. Grant gave +sundry nods, which the boy understood and returned, then she retired +from the scene. Not a word was spoken during breakfast-time. Oscar +helped himself and Inna to what the table afforded—ham, eggs, rolls, +honey, golden butter—all so sweet and clean and homely.</p> + +<p><a name="png.037" id="png.037"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">38</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>Before the young people had finished, the doctor rose and went tramping +out.</p> + +<p>“Good morning,” said he at the door, breaking the spell of silence. +Inna, rising, wished to spring toward him, but he was gone.</p> + +<p>“There, he’s safe till two o’clock,” sighed Oscar.</p> + +<p>“Safe?” said Inna.</p> + +<p>“Yes; booked with his patients, you know. Some say he has patients on +the brain. I wish them joy of him.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t—don’t you like him?” she inquired falteringly.</p> + +<p>“Do you?” asked the other, helping himself to an egg.</p> + +<p>“I ought.”</p> + +<p>“Ought! I can’t bear that word ought: ’tis dinned into my ears morning, +noon, and night. Now, I tell you what we’ll do: we’ll fling ‘ought’ to +the winds, and go a nutting expedition this morning.”</p> + +<p>In came Mrs. Grant.</p> + +<p>“Well, Master Oscar, I should hope you’d go down to Mr. Fane’s for +lessons to-day,” said she.</p> + +<p><a name="png.038" id="png.038"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">39</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“I can’t; I’ve a prior engagement,” said he, as loftily as a mouth full +of bread and butter and egg could utter it.</p> + +<p>“And what’s that, may I ask?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve made a promise to a lady to go elsewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Oscar! never mind me; you ought to do your lessons, you know.”</p> + +<p>“I thought we flung that horrid word to the winds just now. There’s no +ought in the case; I had a holiday yesterday, and I mean to to-day. I +mean to take Inna to Black Hole, and round through the woods, on a +nutting expedition—so there!”</p> + +<p>This last to Mrs. Grant.</p> + +<p>“Very well, Master Oscar; I shall have to set the doctor on to you +again. I hope, Miss Inna, you’ll be a good little influence with him and +teach him to obey his uncle.”</p> + +<p>Oscar laughed, pushed back his plate, and left the table. “Now, Inna, +run and put on your hat and jacket, and we’ll be off,” said he to the +little girl.</p> + +<p>“Go, dear,” said the housekeeper, as the child hesitated. “I suppose he +means all right for <a name="png.039" id="png.039"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">40</span><span class="ns">] </span>this once, but he must take the consequence;” and +away went Inna for hat and jacket, wondering if it was right to go.</p> + +<p>When she came down, Oscar showed her a packet of sandwiches in the +nutting basket, which Mrs. Grant had cut for them to eat if they were +hungry.</p> + +<p>“She isn’t a bad sort; her bark is worse than her bite,” said Oscar of +her, when the two were well on their way.</p> + +<p>On and on—over stubble fields they went, till by-and-by they were +taking a short cut through a carriage drive in Owl’s Nest Park, as Oscar +informed Inna. It was a pretty bowery walk, overarched with beeches and +elms in all their autumn glory, and full of the clamour of rooks. Here +they met an old lady in a wheel-chair, pushed by a page-boy—such a +sweet sad-faced old lady was the occupant of the chair, with shining +grey curls peeping out from beneath her black satin hood. She was +wrapped in some sort of fur-lined cloak; and by her side walked two +little dark-faced, shy-looking girls of seven, quaintly dressed in rich +black velvet, very like two wee maidens stepped out of some old +picture, <a name="png.042" id="png.042"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">41</span><span class="ns">] </span>and each wearing a hood similar to that worn by their aged +companion.</p> + +<p class="illus seppg"><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">40a</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span><a + name="png.040" id="png.040"></a><img + src="images/illus040-sml.jpg" width="325" height="491" + alt="" title="" /><br + />“A DONKEY AND CART CAME DRIVING UP.”</p> + <p class="loilink"><span class="ns">[Return to </span><a + title="Return to list of illustrations." + href="#png.006">List of Illustrations</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> + +<p>“This is Madame Giche—spelt G-i-c-h-e—and her two grand-nieces; a +queer party, all of them,” said Oscar, still leading on. “This isn’t her +place: she can’t live at her own place, they say, all about some trouble +she’s had; and so she took the Owl’s Nest of Sir Hubert Larch, who never +lives there, on lease.”</p> + +<p>“Are we intruding here?” inquired Inna.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; there is a right of way: that is, madame gives it, and people +take it. Come on.”</p> + +<p>He had the grace to raise his hat to the party as they passed them by, +and anon they were out of the park, and on a well-worn road. Here the +sound of wheels greeted them, and a donkey and cart came driving +up—Dick Gregory charioteer, and a girl of about Inna’s age seated in +the bed of the cart behind him.</p> + +<p>“Why, little friend,” cried the boy, recognising Inna, “this is a happy +meeting!” and down he sprang, and seized her hand with a boyish grip.</p> + +<p>“How d’ye do, Willett?” this to Oscar, who returned the salutation.</p> + +<p><a name="png.043" id="png.043"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">42</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Now you must be introduced to Trapper. Here, Trapper,” said Dick, +turning to the donkey-cart.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be silly, Dick,” cried the pretty little maiden. “You know I’m +not Trapper: at least, only to you, who call me Gin and then Trap and +Trapper. My name is Jenny;” and down she sprang to Inna’s side.</p> + +<p>“And I am Inna.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; Dick has told me your name.”</p> + +<p>“And how is your kitten?” Inna liked the pretty, free, fair-haired, +fair-faced girl.</p> + +<p>“Oh, first-rate, thank you, isn’t she, Dick?” said she, appealing to her +brother, who was just settling with Oscar.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes! We’ll just manage a morning of it in the woods; you can show +your cousin Black Hole another time. Isn’t what?” he questioned of his +sister.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t Snowdrop first-rate?”</p> + +<p>“Rather,” returned he, with a nod at Inna, which made her blush and +laugh.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad she’s well. And so you call her Snowdrop?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and what do you think of our donkey? + <a name="png.044" id="png.044"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">43</span><span class="ns">] </span>We call him Rameses: that’s +Dick’s choice of a name.”</p> + +<p>“He’s a beautiful creature,” returned Inna, stroking the animal’s wise +old head.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Dick, “I’m a lover of old names, so I thought I’d go back +to the Pharaohs. Not a bad idea, was it? though no compliment, I +daresay, to the old fogies.”</p> + +<p>“No,” laughed Oscar; “but never mind about compliments for dead and gone +fogies.”</p> + +<p>“And what of the fogies of this generation?” inquired ready Dick.</p> + +<p>“The same—never mind.”</p> + +<p>“But come, we must make hay while the sun shines. In with you, you two +girls, into the cart,” said Dick, which they did, Jenny helping Inna. +Then up sprang the charioteer, Oscar beside him; crack went the whip, +and off they drove like the wind.</p> + +<p>That nutting expedition was like a fairy dream to London-reared Inna; +the lads showed her a squirrel or two, a dormouse not yet gone to its +winter snooze, in its mossy bed-chamber. A snake wriggled past them, +which made her shudder; frogs and toads leaped here and there + <a name="png.045" id="png.045"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">44</span><span class="ns">] </span>in dark +places. Then, oh, the whir and whisper of the autumn wind among the +trees! the lights and shadows! Oh, for the magic hand of her artist +father to make them hers for ever in a picture for her bedroom! But the +delight of a morning’s nutting must come to an end—so did theirs; the +sandwiches demolished—share and share, as Oscar put it—they bethought +themselves of dinner and the road leading thereto, so once more they +were on their backward way, and parting company.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, mademoiselle!” cried Dick, as Inna stood at Oscar’s side, +after she had kissed Jenny, and the two had vowed a girls’ eternal +friendship. Then away went the donkey and cart, and our young people +hastened home, just in time for dinner. A meal silent as breakfast was +dinner, so far as they were concerned, for Mr. Barlow and the doctor +kept a learned conversation high above their heads all the time—so +Oscar said; and after it was over the boy vanished, nobody knew where. +As for Inna, she roamed in the orchard all the afternoon in a dream of +beauty, eating rosy apples, followed by tea—she and Mr. Barlow +alone—she making <a name="png.046" id="png.046"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">45</span><span class="ns">] </span>the toast and managing the urn: a living proof of +what can be done by trying, so the surgeon told her. Then he and the +doctor went out, and Inna crept out to the kitchen, to wonder with Mrs. +Grant where Oscar was, and what was keeping him.</p> + +<p>“No good, Miss Inna; that boy’ll go to the dogs if somebody don’t take +him in hand. You try, dearie, what you can do with him,” said the +housekeeper.</p> + +<p>“I!” cried astonished Inna. She try what she could do with a big boy +like Oscar!</p> + +<p>“But hark! that’s the fire-bell; there must be a fire somewhere,” said +Mrs. Grant, and out she went, with her apron over her head, to listen at +the back gates.</p> + +<p>Inna, with no apron over her head, stole out to keep her company.</p> + +<p>“Oh my!” said Mrs. Grant to shivering Inna. “I wish Master Oscar was at +home. I’m thinking he’s a finger in the pie.”</p> + +<p>Ah! there was the fire, sure enough; it was a flare and a flame against +the darkening sky.</p> + +<p>“What’s alight?” inquired Mrs. Grant of a man who went hurrying by.</p> + +<p><a name="png.047" id="png.047"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">46</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Poor Jackson’s little farm; they say ’tis going like tinder, and he’s +half crazed,” came back to them as the man ran on.</p> + +<p>“Oh dear! that boy, what he’ll have to answer for!” cried the +housekeeper.</p> + +<p>“But we’re not sure ’tis his work,” said sensible Inna.</p> + +<p>“No, dear; but there’s seldom any mischief going that he don’t help in +the brewing of.”</p> + +<p>Inna was silent, watching the red glare of the fire mounting +heavenwards.</p> + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.048" id="png.048"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">47</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER IV.<br /> + +<small>OSCAR’S BURNT ARM—BLACK HOLE.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword">“<span>You</span> see, dearie,” went on the housekeeper, “he’s playing truant these +two days, and I don’t like to bother the doctor, and get him into +trouble. I hide what I can, in pity for his friendlessness.”</p> + +<p>“Hasn’t he anybody but Uncle Jonathan?” inquired Inna.</p> + +<p>“No, dearie; father and mother both dead, leaving him not a penny. +’Twould have been a sad life but for master, as I tell him; but I think +that sets him more against the right than ever.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose you weren’t to tell him, but ask him to do his studies, +and—and right things, for love of duty and love of pleasing you?” +suggested Inna.</p> + +<p>“That’s where it is. I think if he had a sister—now, if you were to get +him to love you, you’d be able to do anything with him. Love <a + name="png.049" id="png.049"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">48</span><span class="ns">] </span>for +anybody is a mighty power, though ’tis said to be like a silk +thread—something not seen, but felt—you see, ’tis stronger than it +seems.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” sighed Inna; “mamma says a loving heart will find work to do +anywhere. Yes, mamma, I will try,” said she inwardly, thinking of her +last talk with her dear mother, and that only on the evening before +yesterday, so short, and yet so long a time ago.</p> + +<p>Well, Oscar did not come, so the two went in, leaving the fire to flare +itself out. Neither did Dr. Willett and Mr. Barlow return. It was quiet +anxious work, sitting there by the log-fire, hearkening to the ticking +of the old clock, waiting for someone who did not come—someone up to +mischief, as Mrs. Grant said. Out she went again, with her apron over +her head.</p> + +<p>“Burnt to the ground, dearie—burnt to a tinder, is the farm: so Sam, +our carter, says; and ’twas done by some idle boys lighting a bonfire of +dry furze near.” This was her report when she returned to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Then they heard the master and Mr. Barlow come in, and the housekeeper +went to carry them in supper. Ten o’clock, and they were <a + name="png.050" id="png.050"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">49</span><span class="ns">] </span>going out +again, Inna heard them say. The little girl now stole out herself to the +back gates; there, in the shadow of the wall, she saw a moving shadow.</p> + +<p>“Oscar!” She spoke his name; and Oscar stepped out into the moonlight +beside her.</p> + +<p>“Where have you been?” she ventured.</p> + +<p>“Where I like.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but have you seen the fire?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose I have.”</p> + +<p>“Did you—did you <span class="nobr">have——”</span></p> + +<p>“Did I have a hand in setting it alight? Ah yes! there you go—you’re +all alike.”</p> + +<p>“No, Oscar; no, <span class="nobr">but——”</span> her small hands were clinging to his arm.</p> + +<p>“Hands off!” cried he, shaking her off, as if he could not bear her even +to touch him.</p> + +<p>His sleeve was in tatters, she felt, before he shook himself free.</p> + +<p>“I want you to do something for me,” said he, gloomily enough.</p> + +<p>A startled “Yes,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>“Go and get some oil and some flour, and come up to my room—you know +your way in the dark, don’t <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: endquote added">you?”</ins></p> + +<p><a name="png.051" id="png.051"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">50</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Yes, I <span class="nobr">think——”</span></p> + +<p>“Think! be sure, and be quick!” With this grumpy injunction he swung +himself away, hugging the shadows, and so into the house and upstairs.</p> + +<p>Tap! tap! Gentle little Samaritan—she had the oil, if not the wine; and +when he bade her enter, she saw that she had indeed to bind up his +wounds. He stood with his arm bare to the elbow—a poor scorched arm, +from which charred skin was hanging.</p> + +<p>“Now, see here: mix some flour and oil into a paste in this pomatum-pot, +and spread it on this handkerchief; then bind it on to my arm, and hold +your tongue. Can you do it, do you think?”</p> + +<p>“Yes;” and the small girlish hands soon had the plaster ready.</p> + +<p>“Poor arm!” said she, as the boy winced at her kindly but bungling +dressing.</p> + +<p>“Fudge!” scoffed he.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I wish you hadn’t had anything to do with it!” tearing a +handkerchief into strips to bind it on with.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s all you know about it. What <a + name="png.052" id="png.052"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">51</span><span class="ns">] </span>has Mother Peggy been saying +about me? I’m the dog with a bad name; I suppose she’s hanged me.”</p> + +<p>“No; she said only kind words of you—at least, what she thought were +kind.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ay! everybody is kind after that fashion, I suppose. Now, about +holding your tongue?”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean I mustn’t say anything about your burnt arm?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t, if I can help it.”</p> + +<p>“We know you can help it. Good night.”</p> + +<p>He let her go out, and she stole down to the kitchen, there to tell Mrs. +Grant, when she came in from the dining-room, that Oscar was in, and +gone to bed, without saying anything of what she had done.</p> + +<p>“I say, come up here, and help me on with my jacket,” called Oscar, the +next morning, from above stairs, to Inna below in the hall.</p> + +<p>Up she ran, like a willing little friend in need, to the needy boy.</p> + +<p>“This is my best jacket,” said he, when the injured arm was safe in its +sleeve. “Now you <a name="png.053" id="png.053"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">52</span><span class="ns">] </span>hear what Mother Peggy will say when she sees me +adorned with it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” returned Inna; “has it pained you to-night?”</p> + +<p>“Well, yes; I never slept a wink till ’twas almost get-up time.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him; his face was worn, his eyes wild.</p> + +<p>“Tell Uncle Jonathan, and let him see to it, or let me tell him.”</p> + +<p>“At your peril, if you do!” said he, like a very despot. “And besides, +’tis more like Billy Barlow’s job than the doctor’s.”</p> + +<p>“Let me tell Mr. Barlow, then,” she pleaded.</p> + +<p>“I tell you, you shan’t. That’s the worst of having a girl in a +mess—she won’t hold her tongue.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will, if they don’t ask me about it,” said the child.</p> + +<p>To which Oscar returned “Hum!” and ran downstairs, challenging her to +catch him. Well-nigh over Mrs. Grant he went, she carrying in the urn, +Inna like a dancing tom-tit behind.</p> + +<p>“Have a care, Master Oscar,” said the house<a + name="png.054" id="png.054"></a><span class="ns">-[p</span><span + class="pgmark">53</span><span class="ns">]</span>keeper, coming to a full +stop to let him pass. “And what’s that best jacket on for?”</p> + +<p>“Because the one I wore yesterday is in holes,” was the moody reply; and +he slipped away into the dining-room, to end the discussion.</p> + +<p>There must be silence there, for the doctor was in his place at the +table, buried in his papers, waiting for someone to minister to his +wants.</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” whispered Oscar, after a vain attempt to wield the +carving-knife; and he and Inna changed places like two shadows. Well, +trying generally brings some sort of success: it did to Inna. Carved +very creditably were the slices of meat she laid on her uncle’s plate; +and, fearing more of a deluge than usual at the urn, she took her seat +at that, and presided over the meal with dainty dignity.</p> + +<p>“I hope you’re going to lessons to-day,” said Mrs. Grant, as, the doctor +gone, Oscar sauntered out into the passage.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am,” was the curt reply.</p> + +<p>“And bring me that torn jacket to mend.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis past mending,” was the reply, and, shouldering his book bag, the +boy was gone.</p> + +<p>“Do you think you could find your way down <a + name="png.055" id="png.055"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">54</span><span class="ns">] </span>to the village, dearie, and +inquire for Mrs. Jackson?” said the housekeeper to Inna. “I’ve known her +from a girl, poor dear. Since she’s married she’s had losses, and now +’tis said she’s lost all by the fire.”</p> + +<p>“I could find her by asking,” returned Inna.</p> + +<p>“True, dearie; you have a tongue in your head.”</p> + +<p>So a few minutes found Inna down in the heart of Cherton, asking for +Mrs. Jackson. She found her in a neat cottage, and helping the mistress +of the same to cook a monster dinner for two families. She looked pale +and sad, but brightened at Inna’s kindly message, and the baskets of +comforts she told her Mrs. Grant sent with her and the doctor’s +compliments.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, dear; and my compliments in return; and my heart’s best +thanks to that brave boy, your—your—what is he to you, miss? I suppose +he’s something?” said Mrs. Jackson.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean Oscar?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—he who saved my boy at the risk of his own young life.”</p> + +<p>Inna’s cheeks flushed, and sweet lights stole into her eyes.</p> + +<p><a name="png.056" id="png.056"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">55</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Do you mean——?” she faltered.</p> + +<p>“I mean he rushed up the burning staircase, and brought down this little +chap,” returned Mrs. Jackson, drawing a sunbeam of a boy of two to her +side, “when strong men hesitated and stood back. <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original reads Didn't?">Didn’t</ins> you know?”</p> + +<p>“No; I know he burnt his arm.”</p> + +<p>“Burnt, miss! ’Twas a wonder he wasn’t burnt to a cinder. Give him my +blessing—a mother’s blessing—and tell him he ought to make a noble +man.” This was Mrs. Jackson’s message to Oscar as she stood at the door, +and watched the little girl away.</p> + +<p>“Well, dear, that shows ’tisn’t wise to condemn people before they’re +tried,” was Mrs. Grant’s comment when Inna told her of Oscar’s brave +deed.</p> + +<p>Dr. Willett and Mr. Barlow would dine late, and would be away all day. +Oscar also failed to put in an appearance at dinner-time, so Inna dined +in solitary state in the great dining-room, and had a pleasant afternoon +in the orchard, where a man or two were gathering in apples. Still, she +wished she knew why Oscar did not come to dinner, and where he was, for +her heart <a name="png.057" id="png.057"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">56</span><span class="ns">] </span>was beginning to yearn already over the wilful, noble, +undisciplined boy. It had always been her dream to have a brother—a big +strong brother to lean upon, and here was one whom she would like to +gather to her.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t want any dinner, so saw no use in coming home,” was the +account Oscar gave of himself that evening, when, at sundown, he came +sauntering in. But he took his revenge by doing wonders at tea-time, +sitting by the kitchen fire on a low stool, and eating his dinner, kept +hot for him. Inna was in the dining-room, presiding at her uncle’s meal, +like a small queen.</p> + +<p>“Does it hurt, dear lad?” inquired Mrs. Grant of the boy.</p> + +<p>“No; what good is it to make a fuss about a scratch like that?” returned +he, wielding knife and fork as best he could, now one, now the other in +his left hand.</p> + +<p>But lo! to the astonishment of all, out came Dr. Willett and Mr. Barlow +into the kitchen—who so seldom came there—followed by Inna.</p> + +<p>“Oscar, let me see your arm,” said the doctor.</p> + +<p>Ah! well the thing was out—so much for a girl.</p> + +<p><a name="png.058" id="png.058"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">57</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“I hardly know that I can, ’tis such a tight fit of a sleeve,” returned +the boy, with a reproachful look at Inna.</p> + +<p>“Well, it went in, I suppose, and it must come out,” said Mr. Barlow, +coming to his side.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t, sir!” It was pitiful to hear the boy plead thus at the very +thought.</p> + +<p>“Cut the sleeve,” spoke the decisive doctor.</p> + +<p>“Oh don’t, sir, do that!”—it was Mrs. Grant’s turn to plead now—“’tis +his best jacket.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and his best arm, being the right; better sacrifice a jacket than +an arm”; and Mr. Barlow’s scissors did the work, and laid bare Inna’s +surgical dressing.</p> + +<p>A nasty burn, but not unskilfully dressed for such young hands, they +said; then they dressed it their own way, prescribed a sling for the +arm, and a good night’s rest for the boy.</p> + +<p>“And, my boy,” said the doctor impressively, “I’ve heard two reports of +you in the village, both bad and good; and I will let the good plead +with me against the bad this once, and prevail. But remember, one noble +deed doesn’t make a life work: there’s the boy’s plodding on, learn<a name="png.059" id="png.059"></a><span class="ns">-[p</span><span + class="pgmark">58</span><span class="ns">]</span>ing, +and doing as you’re bid, and a hundred other things—the very foundation +of a good useful life.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis such humdrum work,” grumbled Oscar.</p> + +<p>“And so is ours—noble art of healing, as it’s sometimes called—eh, Mr. +Barlow?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it would be, if we weren’t applying a salve to somebody’s sore; +and I suppose that’s what almost all work amounts to—salving somebody’s +sore, easing the wheels of life somewhere,” was that gentleman’s reply. +“And the humdrum drudging of a schoolboy, in learning and unlearning, is +but the easing the wheels of his ignorant brain.”</p> + +<p>Well, whether Oscar laid this new thought to heart or not, certain it is +that he kept zealously to lessons and Mr. Fane, took kindly to Inna, and +called her “a little brick,” and all the many flattering names found in +a boy’s vocabulary. But his wound would not heal, for which the weather +was blamed, and the constant friction he gave it, until his two doctors +advised he should not race about so much; and so it came about that +November was well on its way before the arm was well, and Inna saw that +abyss of mystery, <a name="png.060" id="png.060"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">59</span><span class="ns">] </span>the Black Hole. Very like a lake, with an +unfathomable hole in the centre—or said to be unfathomable, because it +had been sounded by the villagers and no bottom found—over-spanned by a +bridge, its water having some hidden outlet, and lying on the north side +of Owl’s Nest Park, among tangled bushes and faded herbage: such was +Black Hole. It was on a sunless hazy afternoon when they paid their +visit to the gloomy place. Oscar betook himself with boy-like zest to +testing the depth of the so-called unfathomable hole with a long pole he +used for leaping with, Inna watching him, and wondering the while +whether the hole, with its darkly swirling waters, were bottomless, as +it was said to be.</p> + +<p>“Have a care,” her companion had warned her. “Don’t lean against the +rails of the bridge; the old thing is as crazy as crazy.”</p> + +<p>But, like a girl, as he said afterwards, she must needs forget; and lo! +as he poked and fathomed as he had often done before and made no new +discovery, a scream rang out, and he looked up to find Inna and the rail +had both vanished.</p> + +<p>“I told you so,” said he, like a lad in a night<a name="png.061" id="png.061"></a><span class="ns">-[p</span><span + class="pgmark">60</span><span class="ns">]</span>mare, his hair standing +on end; and then in he sprang, with the forlorn hope of bringing her +out. Ah! there was a dark story told of the victim once sucked in by +that yawning mouth.</p> + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.062" id="png.062"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">61</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER V.<br /> + +<small>INNA AT THE OWL’S NEST—MORE WRONG STEPS.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>But</span> that strong unseen Hand, so often stretched out in our great +extremities, was stretched out now, although only for the saving of one +little girl. It guided the boy to the spot where the poor little +floundering bundle rose to the surface, helped him to play the hero, and +to snatch her from those yawning watery jaws, that would fain have +swallowed her—she was shudderingly near to her end, but after a time he +grasped her tightly, and drew her to him.</p> + +<p>At last he was landing after such a brief long struggle, his burden in +his arms, on the dreary bank, little dreaming that any spectator was +watching him play the man. Yet there were four—Madame Giche, her +nieces, and Phil, her page; and all four came bearing down upon him, +chair and all, as he laid Inna down among <a + name="png.063" id="png.063"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">62</span><span class="ns">] </span>the rough grass a moment, to +just take breath, shake himself, and then home, or the poor mite would +die of cold. Her eyes were closed, and she looked very death-like, as it +was.</p> + +<p>“Take her to the house, to the Owl’s Nest,” came the command, with the +tone of authority, from the depths of Madame Giche’s black hood.</p> + +<p>“I thought of taking her home,” returned Oscar without ceremony.</p> + +<p>“Yes, young people think a great many wrong thoughts; but if you take +her to the house, you’ll be glad in an hour’s time you did an old +woman’s bidding,” was the decisive reply.</p> + +<p>Oscar caught up the insensible girl in his arms in moody silence; truth +to tell, he would be glad to get her into something dry and warm; she +certainly did look death-like.</p> + +<p>“Do you know the short cut to the house?” inquired Madame Giche.</p> + +<p>“Yes, thank you; I know.”</p> + +<p>“Can you carry her, or shall Phil help you?”</p> + +<p>At this, he might have been the giant-killer in the old nursery tale, +carrying poor little Jack, by the way he took up his burden, and struck +away for the boundary of the park; a curt <a + name="png.064" id="png.064"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">63</span><span class="ns">] </span>“No, thank you,” ringing back +over his shoulder in scant courtesy as he went.</p> + +<p>Then Madame Giche’s party turned and went homeward by a less direct +road, because of her chair, and Black Hole was again deserted. Madame +Giche, however, despatched Phil to run forward with her message to the +servants, that the child was to be taken in and attended to; her nieces +propelling her along at a brisk canter, because she wished to be herself +early on the spot. So Phil and Oscar mounted the north terrace together. +Phil gave the alarm, the servants flocked out, and Long, Madame’s own +maid, took possession of Inna, and bore her away to her own little room, +next to her mistress’s bedchamber, on the first floor. Of course, Oscar +loitered about outside, on the terrace, like a lad in a book, to wait +for tidings; he was there when Madame arrived, and assisted her up the +steps, he on one side, Phil on the other, because a trembling fit, +brought on by the shock, was upon her. A frail little mite of a +gentlewoman was she between the two sturdy lads, her nieces, like meek +little handmaids, following behind them.</p> + +<p><a name="png.065" id="png.065"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">64</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Now, boy, if you’re mad, I’m not. Come in and take off those wet +garments, and put on some of Phil’s.” So she half commanded half +persuaded him, still grasping his arm with her clinging fingers.</p> + +<p>And for once the boy obeyed, and submitted to be so equipped, Phil +taking him under his especial care and leading the way to his bedroom. +Anon, when he descended the stairs, longing for tidings of Inna, Phil +grinning slily behind him at his second self, out stepped Long from +somewhere, and told him the little lady had come out of her swoon, and +they had given her something comforting, and tucked her up in bed. +“Madame Giche’s compliments to Dr. Willett, and they would take good +care of her till to-morrow.” Then Phil appeared with a cup of steaming +coffee, which Long made him drink before he left; then he set forth +homeward.</p> + +<p>Willett’s Farm was more dreary that evening than ever before, with +little cheery Inna away, if she had only known it. But she was sweetly +sleeping all the evening, in a bed hastily wheeled in to keep company +with Long’s; and when, at midnight, she awoke to find herself there, +<a name="png.066" id="png.066"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">65</span><span class="ns">] </span>Long bending over her, the fire-light rosy on the hearth, a shaded lamp +somewhere behind her, you may be sure she felt like a story-book +heroine, not herself. Still she was herself, and when she had taken some +soup, been told that Oscar had gone home, and she was at the Owl’s Nest, +she fell asleep, and woke the next morning to breakfast in bed. After +this she dressed herself, and went down to form the acquaintance of +Madame Giche and her grand-nieces.</p> + +<p>“And so you’re none the worse for your wetting, my dear?” said her +hostess, drawing her to her, and kissing her, after the little girl had +gone up to her, as she sat by the log fire, and timidly <span class="nobr">said—</span></p> + +<p>“Good morning, Madame Giche. Thank you for being so good to me.”</p> + +<p>The child assured her that she was none the worse, her rosy face +testifying to the same.</p> + +<p>“Then, dear, don’t think about thanks. You are quite a pleasant surprise +visitor to us—lonely people; to me and my two little shy nieces, who +will be the better for having a little girl friend. Let me introduce +you; they’re on the very tip-toe of waiting.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.067" id="png.067"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">66</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>Then the two wee maidens came round from behind their aged relative’s +chair, and were introduced as Olive and Sybil. Two dark-haired, +brown-skinned damsels were they, in quaintly cut velvet frocks, with +frillings of lace at throat and wrists.</p> + +<p>“Now see, dear, it’s pouring with rain. Do you think you could be happy +as our guest to-day, or must I send you home in the carriage?” +questioned Madame Giche.</p> + +<p>They were in what was called the tapestried chamber, a room lined with +needlework, done by dead fingers of long ago: those of some of the +ladies whose portraits Inna was to see by-and-by in the grand staircase, +and the gallery running round the hall.</p> + +<p>“I should like—what would you like me to do, ma’am?” faltered Inna.</p> + +<p>“We should much like you to stay, dear,” returned Madame Giche, still +holding her hand.</p> + +<p>“Then, thank you, I should like to stay.”</p> + +<p>So it was decided, and Olive and Sybil, the twin sisters, drew away +their guest to look at pretty foreign ornaments, in profusion all about +the room.</p> + +<p><a name="png.068" id="png.068"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">67</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“All grand-auntie’s own,” as they told her, “which we brought from +abroad. You see, this isn’t our own home, but grand-auntie took it on +lease from a gentleman we met abroad. Grand-auntie has lived abroad for +years and years, ever since her heart was broken.” So they chatted, and +enlightened Inna.</p> + +<p>This was in the afternoon, after they had lunched with Madame Giche in +the tapestried room, and had wandered away up into the picture-gallery, +to look at some of the pictures.</p> + +<p>“There, that is grand-auntie; isn’t it like? That was done abroad,” said +Sybil, who was the talker. Olive was sedate and somewhat silent.</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking the sweet aged face peering down at them from the +canvas, and Inna said so.</p> + +<p>“And that is grand-auntie’s son—he who broke her heart, you know. He +disappointed her, went abroad, married, and died,” whispered the child. +“Ah! whisper it,” so she expressed it, “because it is all so sad. +Grand-auntie was never reconciled to him, you see, and so can never make +it up in this world. He had a wife <a + name="png.069" id="png.069"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">68</span><span class="ns">] </span>and a little boy, and grand-auntie +has searched Europe over, she says, and can’t find them.”</p> + +<p>A dark, handsome, wilful young face had Madame Giche’s son, as seen in +his portrait—a young man just on the threshold of manhood. Inna stood +to gaze at it, wondering what it was stirring the depths of her +sensitive little heart, and filling it with a lingering pain.</p> + +<p>“Grand-auntie says these two pictures have no right here, and calls them +alien pictures among aliens, because the house isn’t ours and the +pictures don’t rightly belong here; but she took her son’s portrait with +her in all her travels, and her own was done abroad, and of course she +brought them here.”</p> + +<p>“His wife wrote the letter telling of his death, and that he asked +grand-auntie to forgive him—and that was all. She has never been able +to find the wife nor the son.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis sad,” sighed Inna; “because she might have been so fond of the +son.”</p> + +<p>“Papa’s portrait is at Wyvern Court—that’s grand-auntie’s own place, +you know. Grand-auntie says we shall be twin heiresses by-and-by.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.070" id="png.070"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">69</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“And your papa <span class="nobr">is—”</span> here Inna flushed at her inquisitive question.</p> + +<p>“Dead; and mamma too,” said grave-browed Olive.</p> + +<p>“Do you like living at the farm with your uncle?” inquired sprightly +Sybil.</p> + +<p>“Yes; only I haven’t been there long—and—and a grand-uncle isn’t like +a grand-auntie,” said Inna.</p> + +<p>“And Dr. Willett hasn’t got a broken heart,” returned Sybil; “I suppose +doctors don’t have broken hearts.”</p> + +<p>Well, the three dined in state at six with Madame Giche; the children +were having a rather free-and-easy time of it, for their governess, Miss +Gordon, was away nursing somebody ill, and so they did very much as they +listed, so long as they did not weary their aged relative.</p> + +<p>What a charmed life was that into which Inna took her one day’s peep, +and the outcome of it all was that when Miss Gordon returned she was to +go up to the Owl’s Nest, and have lessons with the twins. Meantime, she +often spent a day there, and was brought home of an evening in the +carriage; then Sybil and <a + name="png.071" id="png.071"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">70</span><span class="ns">] </span>Olive came for tea at the farm, and, after a +delightful evening spent in roasting chestnuts and the like, went back +in their turn in the carriage, the happiest girls, perhaps, alive. Thus +for a time all went merrily as Christmas bells; but one morning Oscar +broke the pleasant spell by announcing, “I’m not going down to Mr. +Fane’s to-day,” as Inna waited for him at the door to walk as far as the +Rectory gates with him, on her way to the Owl’s Nest, her seat of +learning.</p> + +<p>“Oh! I wish you were,” said Inna.</p> + +<p>“Why?” gruffly.</p> + +<p>“Because you ought; because ’tis right.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, bother right! I’m not going; in fact, I can’t. Dick Gregory’s +coming over; there’s to be steam threshing in the yard, no end of fun, +and I can’t disappoint him. Besides, it can’t be far wrong; doing it +under uncle’s very nose;” and away went the boy, out of sight of his +cousin’s reproachful eyes.</p> + +<p>When Inna came home from the Owl’s Nest in the evening, a drizzling rain +had come on. Oscar was absent somewhere with Dick Gregory, the two +gentlemen still out; so after tea the little girl sat down with her +knitting somewhat <a name="png.072" id="png.072"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">71</span><span class="ns">] </span>drearily by Mrs. Grant’s side, with tears not far +from her eyes, because her cousin would persist in taking these sudden +and backward steps.</p> + +<p>“I know he’s to be a farmer, but there, even farmers mustn’t be +blockheads of dunces, as Oscar’ll be if he don’t alter,” said Mrs. +Grant.</p> + +<p>“To be a farmer?” inquired Inna.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dearie, that’s why his uncle is keeping on the farm. He talked of +selling or letting it years ago, when it fell to him by heirship, but he +didn’t, but kept it on and on; and when his brother’s orphan came to +him, he said he’d keep it for him, if I didn’t mind seeing to it a few +years longer; and I said I didn’t, being a farmer’s daughter. I think +I’ve made a better farmer than—than your uncle,” laughed the good +woman. “So the farm is for Master Oscar.”</p> + +<p>“So Oscar is to be a farmer,” mused the little girl, hearkening for his +coming, as she sat by the wood fire, while Mrs. Grant went presently to +attend to the two hard-working doctors, just come in.</p> + +<p>In he came at last.</p> + +<p>“Well, Master Oscar, I hope you’ve had your <a + name="png.073" id="png.073"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">72</span><span class="ns">] </span>swing,” said the +housekeeper, meeting him in the passage.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have; and now I am going at once to make it straight with the +doctor,” he peeped into the kitchen to say to Inna. “That’s a step in +the right direction, you must confess;” and was gone.</p> + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.074" id="png.074"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">73</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER VI.<br /> + +<small>INNA’S FIRSTFRUITS—ON THE TOR.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>The</span> going in to make confession of his neglect of his lessons by Oscar, +that night, was like a very firstfruits to loving little Inna, in her +endeavour to influence this big, strong, wilful cousin for good. Nay, +she shamed him into industry and painstaking by her own application to +studies, going to and from the Owl’s Nest, “like clockwork, you little +grinder!” as the boy expressed it, making his awkward admission to her +on Christmas Eve, the two wreathing the house with holly and evergreens. +This was something which Carlo and Smut the black cat thought it their +duty to look into, to judge from the way they pryingly inspected the +monster heap of greenery in the wide passage, where the boy and girl +worked, making Inna laugh and laugh again, till her uncle peeped out of +his study door to inquire what was the matter.</p> + +<p><a name="png.075" id="png.075"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">74</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“I’m only laughing at Carlo and Smut, uncle,” was her shamefaced reply.</p> + +<p>“Ah! laugh and grow fat.” With this, he went in and shut the door.</p> + +<p>“Not at all a speech to address to a lady,” remarked Mr. Barlow, +crossing the hall at the moment. “But Christmas is the time for +liberties of all sorts and unheard-of requests—have you any of the +latter, fair lady?” and the surgeon halted behind her.</p> + +<p>“I have one little wish, and ’tis about uncle and his den,” ventured +Inna, blushing a little.</p> + +<p>“Well, suppose you tell me, and let me be the go-between—no enviable +part to play, remember, to put a finger in anybody’s pie, much more in +that of a doctor and a young lady combined.”</p> + +<p>“May I put a bit of holly in uncle’s den?”</p> + +<p>“Make Christmas in the lion’s den, eh, Oscar! Well, I’m off; but let me +make sure of my errand. I go to prefer a petition from the lamb to the +lion for permission to enter his den with a flag of truce.” In he went +into the study.</p> + +<p>“In the name of the lion, I say go in, little <a + name="png.076" id="png.076"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">75</span><span class="ns">] </span>lamb, and at once,” he +came out almost immediately to say, and he stood by Oscar and the holly +heap, while Fairy Inna went on her magic mission.</p> + +<p>After that evening the doctor’s study doors were open to Inna once and +again; she tapped timidly for permission to go in and make up his fire +on the cold evenings which came in with the new year, when snow lay upon +the ground, and Mrs. Grant told her that most likely her studious, +absorbed uncle was sitting with his fire gone out, and she herself dared +not intrude to replenish it.</p> + +<p>“Come in, dear,” he would say at such times. “You’ll not disturb me.” +And before the winter was over he named her his “Little Salamander;” and +once or twice peeped out and called for her when she did not come.</p> + +<p>Well, winter was over at last, and March on its blustering way; the +lambs in the fields, the colts in their paddock, and young exultant life +everywhere. It was holiday time with Inna, for Miss Gordon was away with +that invalid somebody again. Dick Gregory was still running wild in his +happy banishment from school; <a + name="png.077" id="png.077"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">76</span><span class="ns">] </span>Jenny, <em>alias</em> Trapper, was running wild +with him whenever she could persuade the dear old lady who played the +part of governess to her to forego her tales of ill-learnt lessons. A +sad dunce was busy Mr. Gregory allowing his merry little daughter to +grow up to be.</p> + +<p>Well, with so many holiday keepers, Oscar dared to join hands, and to +take French leave, as he called it, in plotting and planning an +expedition to the Tor without asking permission of his uncle. Not that +he anticipated a refusal, but just because young people will persist in +thinking stolen waters are sweet—sweeter than any other waters. Ah, +well! we know what the wise man says about the bread of deceit; it +points out much the same moral.</p> + +<p>But about the Tor. This was a high elevation—almost a mountain compared +with the surrounding hills for miles—whence the sea could be descried, +a misty mystery, not so far away; and around which sudden fogs wreathed +themselves, shutting in those unfortunate enough to be on its heights in +a rare tangle of perplexity when it thus chose to wrap itself up in this +sullen mood. For there were ugly holes, pitfalls, and <a + name="png.078" id="png.078"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">77</span><span class="ns">] </span>crevices in its +ragged sides, making its descent a serious thing, except for adepts in +climbing and scrambling down, even in the fair light of day. Moreover, +there was on one side a disused flint-quarry, called by the ominous name +of the Ugly Leap, because, once in the remote past, a shepherd boy, +seeking a wandering lamb, had lost his way in the fog, having doubled +and turned in his course unknowingly, and finally had fallen over the +quarry side. Ah, well! he lost his life; and so his sad tale was told, +and the Ugly Leap, with its suggestive name, bore witness to the same.</p> + +<p>There were sea-fogs which swept up, and made the Tor so dangerous, Mrs. +Grant affirmed; but Oscar always said “Fudge!” to this—a pet word of +his, as he did on that fair March morning, when not a cloud or an atom +of fog was to be seen anywhere, but all was cold and brilliant, as some +March mornings are.</p> + +<p>“Just the morning for the old Tor,” the lad said decisively: “the views +splendid, sea and all.”</p> + +<p>“But how about school and your uncle?” inquired Mrs. Grant.</p> + +<p><a name="png.079" id="png.079"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">78</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“Oh, they’ll do very well, if you don’t split upon me. I mean to go, and +Inna won’t be mean enough to go with me and play tell-tale-tit +afterwards; and besides, uncle wouldn’t refuse me this one day, just to +show Inna the Tor.”</p> + +<p>“But suppose we were to wait and ask him?” suggested Inna.</p> + +<p>“I can’t wait. Dick Gregory and his sister are coming over. We shall +make such a jolly party, and there’ll be more fun to steal a march upon +someone:” this was Oscar’s reasoning.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Inna ought to have stood out against this stealing a march, as +it was for her the expedition was said to be planned, but she said +nothing; she had set her heart upon seeing the Tor, and realising +somewhat of the thrilling sensation of an Alpine climber; and she was +but nine—no great age for unerring wisdom. “Young people’s heads are +renowned for folly.” Mrs. Grant said something like this when Dick and +Jenny mustered at the gates, and the four set off, fortified with a good +supply of sandwiches and other nice things in a satchel, which Oscar +swung over his shoulder, traveller fashion; and so they started. The two +little dwellers at the <a name="png.080" id="png.080"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">79</span><span class="ns">] </span>Owl’s Nest looked out at them longingly at the +park gates, as they passed that way; not far from the Black Hole, with +its thrilling memories, did their road lead them. Then away on through +young corn, and other crops that dared put forth their greenness in the +cold health-giving March air; and anon they had reached the Tor.</p> + +<p>Up, up, still mounting up, they went, putting their best foot before, as +their two guides admonished the girls, giving them many a tug and many a +pull; and when they were half-way up, down they sat in the sunshine, and +ate a lunch picnic, taking sundry sips of cold water from a bottle Oscar +insisted on bringing, because he said climbing was such thirsty work in +the clear cold air of the old Tor. Well, after this they went mounting +up again, sometimes, like spiders, on all fours.</p> + +<p>“It does take the breath out of one,” said Dick, tugging at Trapper, +who, girl-like, kept slipping back, Oscar doing the same with Inna.</p> + +<p>Inna, the Londoner, was a very poor climber; but once on the summit, +what exultant delight was there!—the blue heavens above their heads; +<a name="png.081" id="png.081"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">80</span><span class="ns">] </span>the sunny landscape, in its dainty spring dress, at their feet; the +Owl’s Nest in the distance not nearly so imposing to look upon seen from +that elevation; the sea—they could even discern somewhat of its +shimmering upheaving, in this clearest of clear March mornings.</p> + +<p>Dick, who was gifted with far-reaching sight, affirmed he could see the +sails of the fishing-smacks, but none of the others could; still they +all clapped their hands, and sang in a wild chorus:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div>“The sea! the sea! the open sea!</div> +<div>The blue, the fresh, the ever-free!”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>“I mean to be a sailor,” said Oscar, when the singing ended. Silence +reigned on the old Tor, save for the blustering wind, which played havoc +with the girls’ hair, and clutched at all their hats.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Oscar! and uncle intends you to be a farmer!” cried Inna, her +tongue running away with her better judgment, which would have whispered +her to think twice before she spoke once. But her heart was stirred with +pity for Oscar, and for her uncle, knowing what Mrs. Grant had said +about the boy’s future.</p> + +<p><a name="png.082" id="png.082"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">81</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“And so Mother Peggy has been whispering that into your ear,” was the +scoffing reply.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Grant told me so; but I don’t know that there was any whispering +about it,” returned the little girl.</p> + +<p>“Well, she told you what’ll never be. I mean to be a sailor, so there!”</p> + +<p>“To be a farmer is no bad berth,” said sensible Dick.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, for them who take to it; but that’s not I. I mean to be a +sailor, like my father before me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! but, Oscar, what will uncle say?” cried Inna.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’ll get over it. Every boy has a right to choose his own +profession, and he knows it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but ’tisn’t a right every boy goes in for. I meant to be a farmer, +and my father set his heel upon that notion, and said I must be a +doctor,” said Dick.</p> + +<p>“Well?” and Oscar waited to hear more.</p> + +<p>“I shall be a doctor; no good comes of a boy going on trying to go +against his father’s way or will.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.083" id="png.083"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">82</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“No,” said the other, somewhat taken aback; “a father is different from +an uncle.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” was Dick’s retort. “I suppose an uncle would expect a little more +yielding of number one to number two.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” growled Oscar, not liking Dick’s views of the case.</p> + +<p>“Because of gratitude. I suppose gratitude ought to have a voice with a +fellow about his father’s wishes; but it ought to have two voices with +those of an uncle playing a father’s part.”</p> + +<p>“Well, an uncle’s wish ought not to make one wreck one’s life; and +that’s what I shall do if I am a farmer.”</p> + +<p>“Phew! you’d be more likely to be wrecked as a sailor now,” replied Dick +loftily.</p> + +<p>“Well, I mean to stand up for my rights,” contended Oscar.</p> + +<p>“Better not, if you value your peace of mind. Since I’ve given up +youth’s charming dream of farming—ha! how the words rhyme!—I’ve been +as happy as a peg-top,” answered Dick.</p> + +<p>The girls smiled.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes,” grumbled Oscar, “well enough for you to laugh. You girls never +have to <a name="png.084" id="png.084"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">83</span><span class="ns">] </span>choose or wish—you always have all you want.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come, Willett; little friend there could contradict that, I know,” +said Dick. “But we didn’t come up here to discuss our wants and wishes. +Suppose we look about a bit, and see the sights. Look, Miss Inna, that +jutting rock yonder, by the sea, is Swallow’s Cliff, and behind it is a +little bay;” and then he drew her away to look down the Ugly Leap. A +dizzy height it was to gaze down from above, with a deep gorge at its +foot, in which a stream of water gurgled, said by some to have a +connection with Black Hole, the lad told her; over which Inna shuddered +and turned away.</p> + +<p>Then they all sat down, and lunched in earnest—a late lunch, for the +afternoon was fast slipping away—and took more sips from Oscar’s +water-bottle. And while they chatted, laughed, and loitered on foot, for +it was becoming bitterly cold to sit down any longer, up came the enemy, +from the sea it may be, behind their backs; at any rate, it was there +with them—ere they realised it the mist was come. Surely the old Tor +wasn’t going to turn nasty and ill-natured <a + name="png.085" id="png.085"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">84</span><span class="ns">] </span>to-day, of all days! they +said, in startled dismay; and Oscar affirmed he had seen the fog settle +and rise, settle and rise, as fickle as any girl’s temper. “’Twas +nothing,” he said; “it would lift.”</p> + +<p>But it was something, and it did not lift; instead, it shut them in so +that they could not see one another’s faces; and oh! the girls’ teeth +chattered with cold. Worse, snow began to fall—blinding snow, which +enveloped them quite. Well for them that they had put on fur-lined +cloaks and overcoats, <span class="nobr">but——</span></p> + +<p>“I say, we’re in for it!” cried Dick; that was when they stood deep in +snow, and the cold was chilling them to the very bone.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think you could steer us down out of this, Willett? You know +the old villain better than I do. We shall freeze!”</p> + +<p>And Oscar said, “No; better freeze than lose one’s way, <span class="nobr">and——”</span> They +knew he was thinking of the shepherd lad and the Ugly Leap.</p> + +<p>“Still, something must be done,” urged Dick; then the two lads made the +shivering girls move and spring up and down, and hoped that the storm +would clear. But it did not.</p> + +<p><a name="png.086" id="png.086"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">85</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>Would anyone come to find them? they wondered.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll make the attempt to go down and get a lantern, and bring +back someone,” volunteered Oscar at last. “I don’t mind for myself, but +I can’t play guide <span class="nobr">for——”</span></p> + +<p>“Ay, I know,” agreed Dick; “to be hampered with other people’s lives is +a great responsibility. Well, take your own life in your hands and go, +and I’d take mine and go with you; <span class="nobr">but——”</span></p> + +<p>“You stay there with the girls,” growled Oscar, and gripped their hands, +as in parting, all the way round.</p> + +<p>They let him go a few steps away, and his shadowy form was lost. The +girls clung to Dick, too cold, too scared, too much as in a dreadful +dream, to cry—ay, too much benumbed. The boy shouted, Oscar responded; +once and again shouts were exchanged, then came a scream—a scream so +shrill that it seemed to cleave their poor failing hearts in two—and +then silence, blank silence, save for the howl of the wind as it whirled +the snow. Dick shouted himself hoarse, but there came no answer. +Something terrible must have happened to Oscar.</p> + + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.087" id="png.087"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">86</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER VII.<br /> + +<small>OSCAR LOST—A FRUITLESS SEARCH.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>The</span> dead silence that followed, save for the hooting of the storm, was +more terrible, if that could be, than Oscar’s scream, for it told of +what? They did not say, but their hearts throbbed out what they feared.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dick! what shall we do?” cried the little girls, clinging to him.</p> + +<p>He was a boy so strong, so brave—surely he could think of something. +Well, he did think of something, but that was after they had shouted +“Oscar! Oscar!” till the storm itself seemed the name. This is what he +thought of.</p> + +<p>“There is nothing to be done but for me to go and look for him.”</p> + +<p>It sounded like a miserably forlorn hope, and the girls thought so; for +they clung to him, crying, “Oh, Dick, Dick!” and almost unnerved him.</p> + +<p><a name="png.088" id="png.088"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">87</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Well, I can do no good up here, and it seems heartless to hear that +cry, and not to go a step to see what can be done. You know he ventured +his life for us.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but throwing away your life wouldn’t save his if—if it isn’t +lost,” faltered fond little Jenny.</p> + +<p>“No,” returned her brother; “and, God willing, I don’t mean to throw +away my life.”</p> + +<p>They were silent for a moment, while the storm raved on. I think they +all breathed a sort of wordless prayer, then Dick spoke.</p> + +<p>“Now, you girls must stand by each other, and comfort each other; and, +<ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original reads 'whatever,'">whatever</ins> you do, don’t sit down and give in to sleep. Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>There was no wringing of hands; the three could not bear it with that +scream of Oscar ringing in their ears.</p> + +<p>He went away, his shadowy figure vanishing in the obscurity almost +immediately, as Oscar’s had done. Then the two girls were alone. Shout +after shout rang reassuringly back to them, and they screamed back +theirs in reply. True, Dick’s shouts were farther away each time, but no +screams followed; then there came a <a + name="png.089" id="png.089"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">88</span><span class="ns">] </span>break, and they heard nothing. +Very, very much alone they were now.</p> + +<p>Well, down in the village people were shutting doors, closing shutters, +and heaping up fires, and saying what a cold snowy ending it was to such +a fair day, as they made themselves cosy, little dreaming there were two +small wanderers up on the old Tor in the storm. The two children could +picture it all, and wondered what was doing at the farm: whether they +were in a great fright about them—Mrs. Grant, Dr. Willett, and Mr. +Barlow. Jenny thought too of what they were saying and doing at her +home, but oh! where was Dick, where was Oscar? How the minutes +lengthened into hours in the cold, the weariness, ay, even drowsiness. +But they must not yield to sleep—Dick had warned them of this; they +knew that sleep up there in that extreme cold meant death. What should +they do?</p> + +<p>Oh! what was that? An ugly shadow of some monster beast looming upon +them from out that vast whirling waste of snow. This was when hope was +very low in their hearts; it seemed that it was an hour or two since +Dick <a name="png.090" id="png.090"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">89</span><span class="ns">] </span>had left them, and no help had come—nothing; and they had +pictured themselves two little maidens, stiff, stark, dead, and cold, +found by someone, at some time, up there all alone. Now here was this +apparition bearing down upon them. They shrieked and clung to each +other; they could not move; they had no boy to fight for them. Fight! +Why, it was dear old Carlo from the farm. How he barked, and whined, and +caressed them! They could but laugh and cry in the same breath at his +funny antics. And this laughter and crying, and the efforts they made to +keep on their feet under his wild hugs and leaps, stirred their blood; +and with this, hope leaped up within them again.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Carlo! where are they all? are they coming?” cried Inna, her arms +about his neck.</p> + +<p>At which he licked her face, barked, and seemed to hearken, as if he too +wanted someone. Why, surely the storm was clearing: they could see the +glimmer of a lantern bobbing, now here, now there, as if someone was +seeking and searching; and when Carlo barked a shout followed, and the +dog bounded away, with his back covered with snow, like a very Father +Christmas <a name="png.091" id="png.091"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">90</span><span class="ns">] </span>of a dog. They did not think of what they were like, with +help coming—an assurance, as they took it, that Dick’s life had not +been thrown away. Back came Carlo, and with him Dr. Willett, Mr. Barlow, +and Sam the carter from the farm, and—and that was all. Where was Dick? +Both children rushed into the arms of the rescuers.</p> + +<p>“Thank Heaven!” said Dr. Willett, pressing his snowy little niece close +to him.</p> + +<p>“Thank Heaven!” muttered Mr. Barlow over Jenny, just such another +snowball.</p> + +<p>“But where is Dick—where is Oscar?”</p> + +<p>“Lost, both lost!” sobbed the two poor little troubled hearts, as they +poured out their story.</p> + +<p>“No, no; boys are not so easily lost,” said Mr. Barlow, he and the +doctor shaking the snow from the cloaks of their two small charges, and +preparing to bid “Good night” to the old Tor. “’Tis true we’ve seen +nothing of them, but that proves nothing—they may be at the farm and in +bed by this time.” But in an aside he whispered to the doctor, “I don’t +like Oscar’s scream, though;” and the doctor shook his head, + as over <a name="png.092" id="png.092"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">91</span><span class="ns">] </span>an +obstinate patient, when he scarcely knew what to do with him.</p> + +<p>“Do you take the lantern, Sam,” went on the surgeon to the carter, “and +search about for them. Of course, even give the Ugly Leap a call, and +make inquiry for them; and when I’ve played the polite man, and seen the +doctor well on his way with these young ladies, I’ll join you—two heads +are better than one even in the matter of looking up two boys that we’re +not sure are lost on a snowy night.”</p> + +<p>With this, Sam marched off with the lantern, and Carlo with him, as if +he understood the plan of operation, and that the lads were missing, and +he must play his part in finding them.</p> + +<p>“Better walk, dears; ’twill stir your blood,” said Dr. Willett at +starting; and so they did for a time, but before they reached the farm +they were glad to be carried, like two small over-done children as they +were.</p> + +<p>By the time they had reached the foot of the Tor the snow clouds had +quite cleared, and the moon shone. Ah! upon what were those pale beams +falling on those snowy heights? Not upon Dick, for when the party +reached the farm <a name="png.093" id="png.093"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">92</span><span class="ns">] </span>they found that he was there, safe in bed, after being +held almost a prisoner by Mrs. Grant. “You see, sir, he was that mad to +be off again, when he heard you and Mr. Barlow had started for the Tor, +that I had to shake some sense into him, and put him to bed—the best +place for him, too, for he was ready to drop,” so the housekeeper told +her master. Mr. Gregory, too, had just arrived to make inquiries for his +two missing ones, so the three doctors turned into the snowy night +again, to follow in Sam’s and Carlo’s wake, and hear of what success +they had met with in their search.</p> + +<p>None; nothing; nobody: this was Sam’s three-worded account of his +failure—for it was failure—while Carlo hung his head, dropped his tail +forlornly, and whined like a dog baffled.</p> + +<p>He, Sam, had been to the Ugly Leap, and beat about everywhere he could +think of, but could find no trace of the boy. All the dreary round he +and the two doctors went again; all the long night they were out in the +snow; but it was a fruitless quest—they were fain to return home in the +grey light of the morning, with only this bare certainty, that Oscar was +lost—to them <a name="png.094" id="png.094"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">93</span><span class="ns">] </span>at least. Dr. Willett was very sore at heart, as he and +Carlo walked a little apart from the others of the returning party, the +dog abject and depressed in attitude as he trotted by his side, as if +conscious of what his master was feeling.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gregory looked upon his sleeping children and returned home; the +others retired for an hour’s rest before going out to their sick +patients. Besides, there were new search parties to be organised. To the +Ugly Leap went the doctor again as the day wore on; the dark waters of +the gorge were searched, so far as such a mysterious stream could be +searched, emerging from the heart of the earth, and only flowing a few +yards, it may be, in the light of day, ere it dived away into the +darkness and secrecy from which it had come. Ah! there was neither sign +nor token of the missing boy, there or elsewhere. Nothing, +nowhere—these were the words that went the round of Cherton, with their +dreary hopelessness, as the days flowed on, and tidings went here and +there of the lost boy, while his description was sent to the police +authorities, far and wide.</p> + +<p>But there came no answer as day succeeded <a + name="png.095" id="png.095"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">94</span><span class="ns">] </span>day, and March blustered +itself away, and sweet fickle April took its place; all was silence, as +if the lad had indeed vanished from the earth. Had he?</p> + +<p>Inna went daily for lessons to the Owl’s Nest. It was well to get away +from the house, Mrs. Grant said, for the child moped and grew pale under +the suspense and mystery of what had befallen this strong, wilful, +good-natured cousin of hers, whom she had been gathering to her as the +brother she had long sighed for. True, Jenny came over to see her, for +she too was lonely, with Dick gone back to school; but what could Jenny +understand about her heartache?—she with her brother safe at school, +while Oscar, Inna’s all but brother, was nobody knew where.</p> + +<p>“I wish he hadn’t played truant that day, and I wish I hadn’t let him:” +this was the burdened little plaint, making her heart so heavy, and +which she ventured to pour out to Mr. Barlow one day.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear little lady, don’t think that what happened came of his +playing truant. I know it isn’t a pleasant thought that there was + <a name="png.096" id="png.096"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">95</span><span class="ns">] </span>that +little hitch of underhand doings; and if he’d only mentioned the going +to the Tor, we could have told you all snow was coming, thanks to the +glass. But, mind me, we don’t get our deserts in that way, or we should +be always having a whipping. And I never give up hope with a patient +till the last remedy has been tried and fails; and, remember, there is +no last remedy with a wise unfailing Providence.” This was the surgeon’s +reply.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. But suppose he is dead, was killed, washed under the Tor by +the dark waters of the brook at the Ugly Leap,” sighed the child.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” was the answer, “we can suppose almost anything—at least, a +little imaginative girl can; but suppose he is dead—which I do +not—dead or alive, he is in God’s good keeping,” was the reply.</p> + + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.097" id="png.097"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">96</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> + +<small>AT THE OWL’S NEST—THE SONG—THE SURPRISE.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>Inna</span> now had two new thoughts to ponder over. “Remember, there is no +last remedy with a wise unfailing Providence;” “Oscar in God’s good +keeping.” They came to her with thrilling freshness one day in the +gallery at Owl’s Nest, as she wandered from picture to picture, musing +and dreaming.</p> + +<p>She was often at the Owl’s Nest. Besides going to and fro to lessons, +Madame Giche invited her to stay there for days together; it was good +for her little nieces to have a child companion, and it was good for the +little girl herself, for, as has been said, she moped and grew pale over +Oscar’s disappearance. So, although they missed her at the farm, they +were glad to send her there. Jenny Gregory was invited also: quite a +bevy of young people did the four make, wandering through the old house, +not intruding upon its aged mistress, save at stated <a + name="png.098" id="png.098"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">97</span><span class="ns">] </span>times and seasons, +but making a pleasant holiday of it; notwithstanding lessons with Miss +Gordon again, and the strumming through of many scales and exercises on +the piano. They never tired of roaming the terraces, where the peacocks +eyed them askance, and spread out their beautiful tails at them as in +proud disdain—those walking flowers of girls, who seemed to vie with +them and their plumage in their pretty bright spring dresses.</p> + +<p>Glorious weather had followed Oscar’s disappearance. It was May now, and +the other little girls were out in the park, gathering daisies, and +having a romp with Carlo, who would often come self-invited when Inna +was there. But, Inna had stolen away from them, for the rare treat of +being alone in the gallery, to admire and think about the pictures. That +of Madame Giche’s son had a strange interest for her, a stranger picture +in a strange house, save for that of his mother keeping it company, like +loving hearts that could not be separated. Those dark, smiling, +beautiful eyes of his thrilled her through; she could not say why they +always made her think of her father and mother; + but then, <a name="png.099" id="png.099"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">98</span><span class="ns">] </span>perhaps, it +was because they were strangers in the land of beautiful pictures. At +any rate, the eyes seemed to belong to her, to follow her, as picture +eyes will, with a strange wistfulness; she could but wonder that the +possessor of such beautiful eyes could ever give his mother pain, part +from her in anger, and break her heart. Of this last he never knew; he +sent her a loving message at the end, begging her forgiveness; and she +gave it to him, so far as it can be accorded to the absent and the +dead—but it broke her heart. Then followed her search for his little +son, whom she had never found. If life had no losses, no mistakes, she +wondered where this missing little one was, in that indistinct shadowy +uncertainty where Oscar was. Would either ever be found?</p> + +<p>Outside lay the park, bathed in afternoon sunshine; she could see it all +from the side window, and her young companion idling by the moat, where +the marsh marigolds were blooming bright and yellow in the sunshine. +There came a rustle as of a garment, and Madame Giche, leaning on her +gold-headed cane, appeared, travelling towards her.</p> + +<p><a name="png.100" id="png.100"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">99</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“You here, my dear?” said she, in her gentle way, laying her hand on the +little girl’s bright head.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Madame Giche.”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t you be better out in the sunshine with the rest, rather than +up here moping?”</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t moping, dear Madame Giche. I was looking at the pictures, and +thinking about them;” and the child gave a little forced laugh over her +confession.</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you think of them all? Now, which do you think is the +handsomest face here?” And Madame Giche gave a sweeping glance round, as +she stood leaning on her stick.</p> + +<p>“This is the face I like best,” was the child’s reply, glancing up at +that stranger face, “save for that of his mother.”</p> + +<p>“This is the face I like best, my dear, but he broke my heart. Do you +know who it is?” inquired the mother, a thrill in her voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear Madame Giche—your son,” returned Inna, with a child’s +sensitive shame at having listened to so much from Sybil.</p> + +<p>“Then—then, you know his story?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; Sybil told me. Forgive me, dear <a + name="png.101" id="png.101"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">100</span><span class="ns">] </span>Madame Giche, if I ought not to +have heard it. Sybil said I might; it was no secret, when we were +talking of it.” Inna’s small fingers grasped Madame Giche’s thin ones.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear; it is no secret.”</p> + +<p>The child stroked the hand she held, wondering what she ought to say +next, a tear trickling down her cheek; and Madame Giche saw it.</p> + +<p>“Are those tears for me, little Inna?” she asked gently.</p> + +<p>“Yes.” A shy “Yes” it was.</p> + +<p>“My dear, that will never do—young people’s sunshine should not be +overshadowed by old people’s clouds. Now, do you know what I want you to +do?”</p> + +<p>“No, dear Madame Giche.”</p> + +<p>“To come down and sing to me.”</p> + +<p>The beautiful mellow-toned piano from the drawing-room had been removed +to the tapestried chamber, and a new one sent from London to fill its +place. Quite little musical parties did the aged lady have, now and +then, of an evening, in the gloaming, the four children, with lights at +the piano, trilling in their bird-like voices some little snatch of a +juvenile song, duet, trio, and <a + name="png.102" id="png.102"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">101</span><span class="ns">] </span>sometimes a quartette, their nimble +fingers wandering among the keys the while in a tangle of melody. But of +all the four, their aged listener loved best to hear Inna sing: her +voice was so plaintive, so expressive. The charm lay in this: that she +was always thinking of her mother at such times, and her heart seemed to +speak in her voice. It did to-night, when she sat down to the piano, her +gentle old friend on the hearth by the smouldering log fire.</p> + +<p>“Sing that little thing I heard you practising so nicely yesterday,” +came to her across the room. So, with a tinkling little prelude, she +<span class="nobr">began—</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div>“A daisy wept in the moonlight pale,</div> +<div class="i1">And bowed her beautiful head,</div> +<div>And a little white moth came dancing by—</div> +<div class="i1">‘Why weep, sweet daisy?’ it said.</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div>“‘I weep for that which can never be,</div> +<div class="i1">I sigh for a wider sphere—</div> +<div>Would, little moth, I had wings like thine!</div> +<div class="i1">Instead, I am rooted here.’</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div>“‘A moth, my life is a sweet content,</div> +<div class="i1">But no worthy life for thee.’</div> +<div>‘Change!’ cried the daisy; ‘take my place;</div> +<div class="i1">A little white moth I’d be.’</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div>“And lo! the daisy took silver wings,</div> +<div class="i1">And forth from the meadow flew;</div> +<div>The little white moth became a flower,</div> +<div class="i1">A daisy-cup dash’d with dew.</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div><a name="png.103" id="png.103"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">102</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“The wide earth blessed the changeling flower,</div> +<div class="i1">The heavens smil’d down above;</div> +<div>A boundless life was the daisy’s life,</div> +<div class="i1">Her mission, a lowly love.</div> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<div>“A little white moth, with broken wings,</div> +<div class="i1">Came home, when nights were drear,</div> +<div>To breathe her last on the daisy’s breast.</div> +<div class="i1">She had missed her rightful sphere.”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>“Yes, dear; it’s not so much what we are, or where we are, but what +we’re doing, that makes a life of usefulness and fulness,” said Madame +Giche, when the ditty came to an end.</p> + +<p>“Yes; in filling others’ lives we fill our own. Is that what you mean, +Madame Giche?” inquired Inna, leaving the piano, and coming to kneel on +the hearth.</p> + +<p>“Yes. The daisy wasn’t thinking of what she was doing, but rather of +herself; seeking great things for herself, not seeing—poor little +thing!—that in just blooming where she was placed she was in a way +blessing heaven and earth, and making her own crown; and missing that, +her life was a failure.”</p> + +<p>Just then in came the three little girls from the park, Miss Gordon with +them.</p> + +<p>“Oh, grand-auntie, we’ve brought such a lovely bunch of marsh +marigolds,” cried Sybil. <a + name="png.104" id="png.104"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">103</span><span class="ns">] </span>“Jenny has them;” and Jenny came forward, +dropping on one knee to present them, and tossing her hat on the floor.</p> + +<p>The kindly old lady patted the yellow-haired fluffy head, taking the +flowers from her, and touching their petals as in fond reverence.</p> + +<p>“Children, at the sight of these flowers I always see myself a child +again,” said she, a sweet far-away light in her dark eyes.</p> + +<p>“And what do you see, grand-auntie—what were you like?” inquired +nimble-tongued Sybil.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear Madame Giche, what were you like?” echoed Jenny.</p> + +<p>“My dear, I was just what Sybil is now. I half fancy, sometimes, that it +must be myself, when I see her running about on the terraces.”</p> + +<p>“But your home wasn’t here, grand-auntie,” said Olive, surprised out of +her silence.</p> + +<p>“No, dear; ’tis the house recalls me to myself. Wyvern Court was very +different from this.”</p> + +<p>“Was that the name of your home, Madame Giche?” inquired matter-of-fact +Jenny, out of the silence that followed.</p> + +<p>“The dearest spot on earth to you—wasn’t it, grand-auntie?” prattled +Sybil.</p> + +<p><a name="png.105" id="png.105"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">104</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Yes; our childhood’s home is that, I suppose, be it a cottage or a +castle, revisited in imagination at life’s close,” sighed the old lady.</p> + +<p>“And that was your—your womanhood’s home—as well,” replied Sybil, +hesitating a little to find a suitable word.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear; there I had all my joys and sorrows.”</p> + +<p>“And now?” whispered Inna, who was kneeling by her side, stroking one of +her soft wrinkled hands.</p> + +<p>“It is life’s sweet after-glow with me; peace after pain and sorrow, +like the light in the sky after sunset.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, grand-auntie, how beautiful that must be to you if it is at all +like that!” cried Sybil, pointing at a distant window. Outside lay the +park, the copse, and surrounding landscape, all aglow with the changeful +tints which follow a fair sun-setting.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear; and life’s after-glow is even more beautiful than that; for +instead of being the blending of day and night together, it is the +blending of day with day.”</p> + +<p>“Day with day?” lisped thoughtful Olive.</p> + +<p><a name="png.106" id="png.106"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">105</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Yes; life’s beautiful days here with life’s long beautiful day +hereafter,” returned Madame Giche, her eyes glistening with her own +sweet thoughts. “But come, dears, the present time is the day with which +you have to do, with all its hopes and opportunities. I want you young +larks to sing me the quartette we were talking of the other day. Where +is Miss Gordon?”</p> + +<p>“I am here, Madame Giche,” came from a distant window. “Do you require +my services?”</p> + +<p>“Do you play the accompaniment, and let me fancy myself—where shall I +say, Sybil?”</p> + +<p>“Sailing down the river in the park by moonlight, the same as we and +Miss Gordon did last summer,” was the ready answer.</p> + +<p>Madame Giche laughed.</p> + +<p>“But that would be too romantic. Fancy what it would be to come back +from such fairyland doings to find myself an old woman, sitting on her +hearth, with four magpies chattering around her, asking her to make +herself ridiculous.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you could be that,” said flattering Jenny.</p> + +<p>Then the four swept away to the piano, like a breath of a sweet spring +breeze, where Miss <a name="png.107" id="png.107"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">106</span><span class="ns">] </span>Gordon played, and the quartette was rendered fairly +well, Madame Giche sitting, a listening shadow, on the hearth.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, dears,” said she, when it came to an end, and a servant +announced, “Mary from the farm is come for the two young ladies, +Madame.”</p> + +<p>“Was it anything like sailing down the river?” asked Sybil, as they all +clustered round her.</p> + +<p>“It was very sweet and beautiful,” said the old lady kindly; then she +kissed her two guests “good night,” and said, “No; not so late,” to her +two nieces, when they pleaded to accompany them as far as the +five-barred gate.</p> + +<p>Jenny was really a guest at the farm for a few days, sleeping with Inna, +but spending most of her time at the Owl’s Nest.</p> + +<p>It was just what Inna needed, with her pale cheeks and troubled heart.</p> + +<p>“If I only knew <em>where</em> Oscar was, I think I could bear it better,” was +her cry. But Dr. Willett had to bear his ifs and regrets in silence, as +best he could, without change or comfort from anything or anybody, save +the going out among his patients. His fine face grew very grave + <a name="png.108" id="png.108"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">107</span><span class="ns">] </span>and +sorrowful, his hair was whitening too, as the days glided on into weeks, +and no tidings came of the missing boy.</p> + +<p>Down the quiet shadowy drive from the Owl’s Nest went the two little +girls and their attendant. Inna little knew to what she was going, +tripping along and talking to Jenny. Clear of the drive, their path home +lay in the moonlight, and not far had they gone when a little wailing +mew came to them from behind a hedge, and then a small white and black +kitten emerged therefrom, and came and rubbed herself round Inna’s feet. +She caught it up and fondled it, the knowing little pleader mewing such +a pleased mew then, that you may be sure it went straight to the little +girl’s heart.</p> + +<p>“Oh, if I might keep it as my very own!” she cried; “but I’m afraid that +Smut wouldn’t like it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid Mrs. Grant wouldn’t like it,” said Mary, as a stronger +objection.</p> + +<p>“Take the kitten home and ask her,” advised Jenny; “and if she says +‘No,’ you could but ask your uncle, and if he says ‘Yes,’ she wouldn’t +dare to say ‘No.’”</p> + +<p><a name="png.109" id="png.109"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">108</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“I don’t think she would wish to say ‘No’ to anything that she thought +would make uncle or me happy,” mused Inna aloud, and in this happy +confidence she hugged the foundling to her, and went on her way through +the moonlight, just as if she was not going home to the unlooked-for, +that which would stir her poor little heart to its centre.</p> + +<p>How would she bear it?</p> + + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.110" id="png.110"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">109</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER IX.<br /> + +<small>OSCAR’S RETURN—THE MYSTERY CLEARED—ON THE TOR AGAIN.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>How</span> did Inna bear it?</p> + +<p>As she bounded into the fire-lit kitchen, to prefer her request to Mrs. +Grant about her kitten, there sat Oscar by the fire, in his own especial +chair, just as if he had sat there nightly for the last six weeks: save +for this, that he had an ugly scar on his forehead scarcely healed, that +his face was thin and wan, and that he wore somebody’s clothes, not his +own—those in which he had vanished.</p> + +<p>“Oscar!” she cried, and sat down and wept over her joy as if it were a +sorrow, like a very excited little maiden—that is how she bore her +surprise. Mary knew nothing of his arrival; he had come after she had +left to bring the little girls home. The poor kitten went flying +somewhere, anywhere to be out of the way of such sobs and tears.</p> + +<p><a name="png.111" id="png.111"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">110</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“Master—Dr. Willett,” called the housekeeper from out of the open +kitchen door, wondering what effect the sight of Oscar would have upon +the two doctors, who had to bear the sight of so much.</p> + +<p>“Yes—what is it?” came wandering back up the passage. The speaker +followed close behind, Mr. Barlow behind him. Oscar come back, Inna +crying over it. Well, with the coming of the two doctors she soon dried +her eyes and inquired for her kitten.</p> + +<p>“Kitten, dear?” Mrs. Grant thought there was something a little wrong +with her head still, just a cobweb not cleared away, because of her +crying so, you know. Not so the doctor, for there came a piteous +prolonged mew, and up scrambled the kitten, inside one of the legs of +the doctor’s trousers. She had missed her way, you see, but had chosen a +friend next best to Inna.</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re no beauty,” quoth the doctor, drawing her down from her +hiding-place, and holding her on his arm to stroke her; “and you’re +nothing to cry over, lost or found.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Willett put her into Inna’s arms, where <a + name="png.112" id="png.112"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">111</span><span class="ns">] </span>the little thing nestled, +as if she knew her rightful place already.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t cry over the kitten, uncle; I cried over Oscar,” said the +little girl.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barlow had drawn Oscar from the room and himself stayed with him, to +keep him there.</p> + +<p>“Where is Oscar?—it isn’t a dream, is it?” and Inna’s eyes swept the +room.</p> + +<p>“Dream? no, my dear; he was here just now. Isn’t it his rightful place?” +spoke the doctor drily.</p> + +<p>“Yes, only—<span class="nobr">only——”</span></p> + +<p>“Ah! yes, only you want to know where he has been, what he has been +doing, and what right he had to come back in this matter-of-fact way, +when you had been imagining all sorts of unlikely things about him; and +so you cried over it, to give the whole thing the girl-like touch it +lacked. Ha—ha!”</p> + +<p>This was Mr. Barlow’s speech, putting his head in at the kitchen door, +to see how they were getting on.</p> + +<p>“Yes, come in, both of you,” said the doctor, that sorrowful gravity +lifted from his face already.</p> + +<p>“Well, my boy, you have taken a heavy <a + name="png.113" id="png.113"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">112</span><span class="ns">] </span>weight from my heart and added +years to my life by coming back,” was what he said, drawing the lad to +him, and laying his hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Have you missed me so much, uncle?” asked Oscar.</p> + +<p>“Missed!” A look passed over Dr. Willett’s face, which Inna, watching, +thought very like that on her father’s face when he kissed her +“Good-bye,” before she came down to the farm.</p> + +<p>“Missed you, Master Oscar! yes, we’re all missed, even when ’tis a boy +we’re keeping the farm for,” was Mrs. Grant’s unlooked-for remark.</p> + +<p>“Very silly of Mrs. Grant, to bring up that question of the farm on the +first night of the boy’s return,” observed the doctor, when he and his +friend were sipping their coffee together, the young folk gone to bed, +the budget of Oscar’s adventures to be opened on the morrow.</p> + +<p>“You see, dear,” said that lady to Inna, after Jenny was asleep; and +Inna’s eyes were sadly wakeful. “You see, dear, I wanted Master Oscar to +see, while his heart was tender, on this first night, that as he had +been missed and wanted by his uncle, it ought to be ‘give and take’ with +him, when I spoke about the farm.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.114" id="png.114"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">113</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Give and take?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Miss Inna, give and take; it’s that as smooths life’s rough +places. Master Oscar has nothing to give his uncle for all he’s doing +for him, but his will—letting go that foolish nonsense about the sea. +He ought to give up the sea and take to the farm—that would be his +giving and taking; and his uncle would give him the farm, and take +his—his obedience to his wishes, as a sort of harvest of love after all +the years of sowing.”</p> + +<p>“Sowing?” said Inna.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the doctor has sown a deal of trouble, thought, and anxiety over +this young brother of his, at last lost at sea—that’s Oscar’s father, +you know. I think, in his quiet way, he’s set his heart on the boy +making him some return, in the way of love and gratitude; and besides, +he says, putting him into the farm is the best thing he can do for him, +leaving out the love, obedience, and gratitude, <span class="nobr">and——”</span> But Inna was +asleep.</p> + +<p>Well, the next evening’s tea-drinking, over which Inna presided, was a +sort of state tea-drinking at which Dr. Willett sat down, a thing he had +scarcely ever been known to do before. <a + name="png.115" id="png.115"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">114</span><span class="ns">] </span>But then, Oscar was to tell his +adventures during tea; a poor, thin, hollow-eyed narrator was he, who +had been down well-nigh to death’s door.</p> + +<p>The tea-table was gay with spring flowers, and through the open window +came a chorus of sweet sounds, the bleating of lambs from the meadows, +the lowing of the cows being driven home to their milking, the song of +birds, the hum of insects—bees and gnats—the one toiling, the others +dancing in idleness: types and shadows of the human race, as Mr. Barlow +remarked. To which Jenny added, “Yes; and of boys and girls—the girls +working, the boys idle.”</p> + +<p>But to this there was no time to make reply, for Inna had supplied them +all with tea, and Oscar had cleared his throat like a story-teller in a +book, and was waiting to begin.</p> + +<p>“Well, you know when I started, and you shouted, and I shouted back,” +said he.</p> + +<p>“Yes, we know—hurry up!” spoke Jenny, like an unmannerly boy.</p> + +<p>“I went on first-rate for a time, then I came to a full stop, for I was +at the Ugly Leap; and before I knew it I was over.”</p> + +<p>“Not much of a full stop; I should say a <a + name="png.116" id="png.116"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">115</span><span class="ns">] </span>note of exclamation was dashed +in there,” remarked Mr. Barlow.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I uttered a sound; I think I was too horrified—that is +as girlish, I know, as if I’d screamed!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! Oscar, you did scream: ’twas that which told us something was +wrong,” put in the interrupting damsel Jenny.</p> + +<p>“And no wonder. I’m not sure I shouldn’t have screamed myself; and boys +are but mortal, the same as doctors,” remarked Mr. Barlow.</p> + +<p>“But not nearly so wise,” interrupted Jenny again.</p> + +<p>“Nor yet so talkative as young ladies; and if present company will +excuse me, I should like some of them to be quiet,” said Oscar.</p> + +<p>“Well, my boy, after the <span class="nobr">scream——”</span> prompted Mr. Barlow.</p> + +<p>“Well, if I <em>did</em> scream, after that there was a silence and the full +stop, for I fell to the bottom; and when I came to my senses I was +jolting along in a caravan—such jolting, and I full of pain and +dizziness. That was a ride to town, and no mistake—Bulverton, the town +was called, where they took me to a hospital.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.117" id="png.117"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">116</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“Who?” inquired irrepressible Jenny.</p> + +<p>“The gipsies—I was in a gipsy caravan; they were passing the road at +the bottom of the Leap, hurrying away from justice of some sort, I +should say, and, hearing me moan, were humane enough to pick me up out +of my snowy bed, and carry me along with them. By the time they reached +Bulverton I was unconscious, in a high fever, and I don’t know what. +They made it all right with the hospital people, somehow, that they had +no hand in bringing me to the state I was in. I was terribly knocked +about—a blow on my head, besides this on my forehead, a broken arm, and +a good shaking generally. ’Twas a wonder I escaped with my life, the +doctors told me, when I came out of my bad turn—you know the dodge, Mr. +Barlow; you all make a miracle of what you do for sick people.” Mr. +Barlow shook his fist at him.</p> + +<p>“I kept who I was a secret, though, and wouldn’t tell my name. I didn’t +want to make a fuss here, you know, but on the last morning it all came +out. One of the doctors saw your description of me, uncle, and the +police came ferreting me out as well, I believe; and so I’d nothing + <a name="png.118" id="png.118"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">117</span><span class="ns">] </span>to +do but throw off my disguise, and come home like a bad penny. I daresay +you’ll have a bill, uncle, for sticking-plaster and so on.”</p> + +<p>“Which I shall be happy to pay, Oscar,” said the grave doctor.</p> + +<p>This was Oscar’s story. Well, the bill came from the Bulverton hospital, +and was duly settled by Dr. Willett, and all things fell into their +usual train, save that Oscar, being unfit for study, and Dick away at +school, had rather a dull time of it.</p> + +<p>The weather was glorious, and of course he roamed about, and went some +excursions with Inna, Jenny, and the donkey and cart, the twins from the +Owl’s Nest sometimes swelling the number; but an outing with a pack of +girls, as he said, was but a very tame affair, and often he sighed for +midsummer and Dick.</p> + +<p>Both came at last, as all good things are said to do to the waiting +ones, and the meeting on the Lakely platform was almost overwhelming as +Dick sprang out among them all; Oscar and the four girls clustering +round him like bees, while Rameses, with the cart at a respectful +distance, stretched out his neck, and brayed such <a + name="png.119" id="png.119"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">118</span><span class="ns">] </span>a note of welcome, +that the attendant porter laughed till he held his sides. With Dick’s +coming, the state of affairs looked up—here, there, and everywhere went +the two boys, not always with a string of girls after them, as Dick +slightingly expressed it.</p> + +<p>Once, according to their own words, they took revenge upon the old Tor, +and had picnics upon its wind-swept heights in a body; but where the +revenge lay they themselves best knew. But the girls looked down the +Ugly Leap with awe, Oscar, with his scarred forehead, looking down with +the rest. A wonderfully clear view they had of the sea and the Swallow’s +Cliff.</p> + +<p>“I say,” cried Dick, the happy thought striking him as he gazed, +“couldn’t we take the girls over as far as the cliffs and the sea? +They’ve never been there, you know, Willett, and ’twouldn’t be too far, +if we took old Rameses and the cart.”</p> + +<p>“Just a nice little outing,” agreed Oscar; and down they all sat in +council to sketch out the programme, to use their own words.</p> + + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.120" id="png.120"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">119</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER X.<br /> + +<small>THE EXPEDITION TO SWALLOW’S CLIFF—CAUGHT BY THE TIDE.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword">“<span>How</span> far is it?” was Inna’s leading question.</p> + +<p>“Three miles as the crow flies,” returned Dick.</p> + +<p>“It would be delightful,” smiled she.</p> + +<p>“It would be jolly,” said Jenny, using a word of Dick’s.</p> + +<p>“And I hope grand-auntie will let us go,” sighed Sybil.</p> + +<p>“Oh, she’ll be sure to if I stand surety for your safety, like a good +old grandfather,” Dick assured them. “And, I say, it ought to be +to-morrow, Willett,” he suggested.</p> + +<p>“Short notice.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but it can be done. I’ll see Madame Giche on our way home.”</p> + +<p>So when the gold was intermingling with the grey under the park trees, +and it was hard upon sundown, the whole party went bounding up the +avenue at the Owl’s Nest, the rooks over their <a + name="png.121" id="png.121"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">120</span><span class="ns">] </span>heads cawing a noisy +“good night” to them and the world in general. They found Madame Giche +pacing to and fro on the terrace with the peacocks.</p> + +<p>At first the aged lady was hard to manage: if her nieces were of the +party, they must take Rance, their nurse, she said; but, as Dick assured +her, there was no need.</p> + +<p>“They’ll be as safe as safe, dear Madame Giche,” were his words, spoken +with the persuasive grace of a courtier, smiling his boyish smile into +her face. “With two such safeguards as Willett and me, they can’t come +to any harm—in fact, there’s nothing they can come to harm in—’tis a +safe shore, even if they took into their heads to bathe, which none of +the young ladies will, I daresay.”</p> + +<p>“No, grand-auntie; we don’t want to bathe or do anything dangerous,” +pleaded Sybil.</p> + +<p>“And we don’t want to be babies, and take our nurse,” objected Olive.</p> + +<p>“Well, dears, you shall have your way,” promised over-persuaded +grand-auntie; and so “the midges,” to use Dick’s words, “won the day.” +Oh, the joy of waking with a whole long <a + name="png.122" id="png.122"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">121</span><span class="ns">] </span>summer’s day of pleasure in +store! An excursion to the beautiful sea—she had scarcely seen it in +her short life.</p> + +<p>Inna was up, and dressed and looking out of her chamber window, when +Oscar came into the paddock below to attend to some lambs.</p> + +<p>“Hurry up, old lady! ’tis a glorious morning,” cried he, looking up and +catching sight of her at the window.</p> + +<p>She waved her hand and was gone. She had to fill the vases with flowers; +one she always placed in her uncle’s study. Since Christmas Eve, when +she carried in her holly spray, she always contrived some sort of a +nosegay for him.</p> + +<p>It was pleasant to hear her tripping feet, and her young voice singing +little snatches of ditties, through the house; to see her stand and feed +the chickens in the morning sunshine. A willing little handmaid was she +anywhere, and to anybody who needed her.</p> + +<p>“I know she begins to save me a deal,” Mrs. Grant said of her.</p> + +<p>“Well, Sunbeam, what do I read in your eyes this morning?” said Mr. +Barlow, meeting her in the passage.</p> + +<p><a name="png.123" id="png.123"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">122</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“An excursion to the sea—to Swallow’s Cliff.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis well to be a young lady of leisure. Are you going to foot it?”</p> + +<p>“No; we’re going in Dick Gregory’s donkey-cart.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! and ’tis well to be young to bear such jolting.” He passed on.</p> + +<p>The two young people waited for the doctor at the breakfast-table, but +Mr. Barlow did not keep him long; then passed the usually silent meal to +its close, but not before Dick peeped in at the rose-wreathed window, +and intimated by sundry nods that Jenny and the donkey and cart were +waiting outside in the lane. Away went the busy doctor into the passage, +just as Inna was <span class="nobr">saying—</span></p> + +<p>“Oscar, you haven’t told uncle—you ought, you know.”</p> + +<p>So Oscar, in the spirit of obedience for once, followed him.</p> + +<p>“Uncle, may I and Inna go with Dick Gregory and his sister to Swallow’s +Cliff to-day?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Swallow’s Cliff—that’s rather a long walk for a young lady.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.124" id="png.124"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">123</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“Only three miles, sir, as the crow flies,” put in Dick, appearing from +somewhere.</p> + +<p>“Yes; but as you’re not crows, and can’t fly, into the bargain, ’twould +mean more than that to you—or rather, ’tis Inna I’m thinking of,” still +objected the doctor.</p> + +<p>“You forget the donkey-cart, Dr. Willett; the young ladies will +ride—all of them,” observed Dick.</p> + +<p>“All?” the doctor stood ready to start.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir; there are four of them: the mid——, Madame Giche’s nieces, +Miss Inna, and my sister Jenny.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose I mustn’t be a bear, and say no.” Dr. Willett wheeled +round upon Oscar. “Yes, I’ve no objection; only take good care of the +little girls. A pleasant day to you.” The busy physician was gone.</p> + +<p>Now a tempest of preparation swept through the house for a few minutes; +then Mrs. Grant stood on the steps at the front door to watch them off. +Dick touched up old Rameses, and drove along the lane with a flourish. +Picking up the midges at the Owl’s Nest gates, with many injunctions +from Rance to take good care of her charges, they made the best of their +way <a name="png.125" id="png.125"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">124</span><span class="ns">] </span>onward, not exactly as the crow flies, but taking all the short +cuts adventurous wheels could roll over: the more jolts and bumps the +more the merriment; Jenny driving, the boys on foot. So, without hitch +or hindrance, the sea was reached.</p> + +<p>A glorious sight it was: not smooth, calm, and still, but with a +beautiful ripple breaking over it, with glad little waves running here +and there—just the mood to please the children. They all kept to the +boundary-line of shore; there was to be no boating, no bathing: the boys +had bound themselves by promise to Mrs. Grant that there were to be no +seaside pranks or dangerous doings.</p> + +<p>“No; no one shall come to a watery grave or an untimely end, if I can +help it—I promise that:” these were Dick’s last words to the +housekeeper, giving Rameses the touch which set him off with a bolt. So +now he bade the little girls to pick up shells, look out for mermaids, +and disport themselves in harmless lady-like fashion, while he and Oscar +went here and there, scaled heights, and took a glance seaward from the +height of the Swallow’s Cliff.</p> + +<p><a name="png.126" id="png.126"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">125</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“But first we’ll consult the luncheon hamper,” suggested he: which they +did; and a very neat spread it was which the girls laid out for them on +the unfrequented beach. This over, with a lifting of the hat, and +“Good-bye for the present,” from Dick, and “Mind, Inna, the midges don’t +get into mischief,” from Oscar, the two went straying away; and the +girls, having cleared away luncheon, began to enjoy themselves. Such +pretty shells they picked, such beautiful sprays of seaweed, and, oh, +how the waves curled and ran races together! Once and again they saw a +distant ship sail past, and Inna thought of the happy days when her +father and mother would come sailing home in a ship like that. Then they +all ran races and sat in the sun, while Jenny sang one of Dick’s songs, +with the <span class="nobr">refrain—</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div>“Three cheers for the briny-ho!”</div> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctd">and Inna sang one of Mrs. Grant’s, with this <span class="nobr">chorus—</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div>“Ho-ho! for the fisherman’s child to-night,</div> +<div class="i1">Ho-ho! for the fisherman’s wife;</div> +<div>Ho-ho! for the fisherman’s bark to-night,</div> +<div class="i1">Ho-ho! for the fisherman’s life.”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>By-and-by the boys came back to consult the hamper again—nothing like +the sea to make <a name="png.127" id="png.127"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">126</span><span class="ns">] </span>people hungry, and nothing like the sea to steal away +the time. So down they sat to the delights of pork-pie, sandwiches, +tarts, and the like; and, at last, all had vanished, save a little +lemonade, reserved for fear they should be thirsty at starting. As for +Rameses, he munched his hay and drank his one jar of water, poured into +a bucket which Dick had hung on under the cart.</p> + +<p>“The old chap won’t be able to drink of the briny,” he had said in the +morning, drawing attention to his forethought for the animal’s comfort.</p> + +<p>“Now, just a whisk round, and we shall have to be moving homeward,” said +Dick, consulting his watch as they sat together. “I promised Madame +Giche not to be after sunset, and we’re keeping company hours with a +vengeance with our late dinner. Why, ’tis between six and seven +o’clock!”</p> + +<p>“There’ll be a moon,” remarked Oscar.</p> + +<p>“Yes; but that’s not a sun,” returned Dick, with a laugh. Then they all +laughed—they were so happy, so light-hearted and gay.</p> + +<p>“Now, you girls, make the most of the next <a + name="png.128" id="png.128"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">127</span><span class="ns">] </span>half-hour or so, and then +’twill be, ‘Britons, strike home!’”</p> + +<p>So Dick admonished them; and then he and Oscar went strolling away for +their last bout, as they called it.</p> + +<p>Who does not know how swiftly the last half-hour of a very enjoyable +time whirls away? The four girls sat down in the glory of it all to sort +their shells, arrange their seaweed, and just rest and, as it were, +digest the day’s pleasure.</p> + +<p>“And there has been no coming to grief, and no anything,” remarked +Sybil: a speech which doubtless would have shocked Madame Giche, had she +heard it.</p> + +<p>No, so they thought—still, they must have been blind not to see that +foe of foes, which will not be repulsed nor stayed, stealing up and up, +and hemming them in. They must have been blind, as Dick said, shouting +out to them from above their heads.</p> + +<p>What had happened? The tide—a high one to-night—had shut them in; the +waters were already beat-beating against a jutting rock, which made a +bend in the shore on their one side; on their other the sea lay a wide +waste of <a name="png.129" id="png.129"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">128</span><span class="ns">] </span>water; there was no retreating or fleeing, for the tide had +shut them in.</p> + +<p>Up the rocks they must go, or——the boys held their breath at this +point, talking together above, where the sunlight still glinted about +them, though the grey evening shadows were upon the little band of +terrified maidens, wringing their hands, pale-faced and with startled +eyes, looking this way and that, and seeing no way of escape.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dick! what can we do? You surely know some way to get us away?” +cried Jenny.</p> + +<p>But Dick shook his head.</p> + +<p>“There is but one way: and that is, you must come up the rocks, and in +pretty quick time too—see that!” A defiant wave broke not far from +them, and dashed its spray over them. “As for old Rameses, he’s safe +round the corner, where you ought to be; but if we were to go down and +try to wade in to you on his back, he’d never do it. He’s game for +anything a donkey can do, but not for that.” So that forlorn hope had to +be given up.</p> + +<p>“They must come up here: that’s their only chance,” said Oscar.</p> + +<p><a name="png.130" id="png.130"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">129</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“But how?” was Dick’s answer.</p> + +<p>“I must try to go down and fetch them up,” was the other’s reply, with +paling cheeks but resolute eyes.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Dick, peering down; “and if we could land them on that ledge +of rock down there, ’twould be something; the tide may not reach +that—at least, not yet.” There was a friendly ledge of rock, not so far +above where the girls stood. “But why should you go down? Let me,” +volunteered ready Dick.</p> + +<p>“No,” objected Oscar; “let me go. I ought to be game for that.” And he +laughed.</p> + +<p>“Well, yes, half sailor and all, you ought to know best.” How lightly +those boys could speak, though their hearts were throbbing quickly with +the thought of what might happen. “If I had a rope, I’d let you down; +then if you’d land them on the ledge, I’d run for help, for we should +never tug them up here by ourselves.”</p> + +<p>“No,” mused Oscar. “And there is a rope in the donkey-cart—a strongish +one, I think.”</p> + +<p>Away went Dick as with winged feet, while the other stood crowned with +red sunbeams, and viewed their position. Back came Dick.</p> + +<p><a name="png.131" id="png.131"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">130</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“’Twould never bear my weight,” observed Oscar, tossing off his jacket +and tightening his belt for action.</p> + +<p>“No, but it would steady you, if you’ll scramble down; or let me go +down, and you hold the rope—I’m your man for either.”</p> + +<p>“No, no, I must go down. See there, I can’t resist that,” whispered +Oscar, pointing below. It was poor little Inna’s pale pleading face +upturned to him in silence.</p> + +<p>The boys had been talking and doing; the rope was fast round Oscar’s +waist: a strong-looking rope, but weak, when one considered that it was +in a sense to hold a life in its keeping.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dick!” cried Jenny from below, “the water is dashing up to our +feet!”</p> + +<p>Yes, the boys could see it was so—the twins were clinging together, and +Inna stood with her arms thrown about them both.</p> + +<p>“I’m coming!” cried Oscar reassuringly, and stepped over.</p> + +<p>“Steady, old man, and the thing is done,” whispered Dick, gripping the +rope with his strong young hands.</p> + +<p class="illus seppg"><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">130a</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span><a + name="png.132" id="png.132"></a><img + src="images/illus132-sml.jpg" width="325" height="512" + alt="" title="" /><br + />“IT SNAPPED AND HE WAS GONE.”</p> + <p class="loilink"><span class="ns">[Return to </span><a + title="Return to list of illustrations." + href="#png.006">List of Illustrations</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> + +<p><a name="png.134" id="png.134"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">131</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>It was an heroic feat, + yet no more than bold venturesome lads of their +age have done before and since. There were ledges here and there for +strongly planted feet to rest upon, and to which young grasping hands +could cling, although steep as the walls of a house. A giddy descent, +but one to be accomplished with a steady head—that of a half sailor, to +use Dick’s words. The girls below were silent; even Jenny held her +breath, although the water now was washing all their feet. Dick held the +rope and his breath also.</p> + +<p>But not far had the deliverer gone down his adventurous way when he +stumbled, reeled, his hands forgot to cling, and poor panic-stricken +Dick, who was clinging to that broken reed of a rope, knew it could not +sustain the strain of Oscar’s weight; it snapped, and he was gone, +falling down, to be caught by that very ledge of rock upon which he was +to land the girls. He would never do it now; he moaned as he fell, then +he lay, face downward, terribly motionless and still. And the girls were +not rescued.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dick! the water is lifting us off our feet,” wailed Jenny.</p> + +<p><a name="png.135" id="png.135"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">132</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“Do you think he’s dead?” cried Inna, still holding the affrighted twins +in her embrace.</p> + +<p>“Jenny, you know how to climb almost like a boy; help Inna to land on +the ledge: there’s room,” cried Dick in desperation, peering down in awe +at Oscar, lying so still on his narrow resting-place. “Then between you +tug up the twins, and I’ll go down to the shore yonder and get help and +a rope, and come down to you.”</p> + +<p>Thus instructed and admonished, Jenny took heart, and, thanks to the +knowledge of climbing trees which Dick had taught her, she scrambled up +with Inna, and planted her safe by her cousin’s side. Then down she slid +again, brave little maiden, like a very boy, and tugged and twisted up +the midges, as they sobbed in their forsaken terror, Inna reaching down +and lending a helping hand.</p> + +<p>They were safe at last, for the time being, from the clutching water, +rising and still rising below them; then Dick sped away. But what of +Oscar: was he dead? and what if help should not reach them in time, and +the tide should overwhelm them, after all?</p> + + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.136" id="png.136"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">133</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER XI.<br /> + +<small>THE RESCUE—CLOUDY DAYS—GOOD NEWS AT LAST.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>Like</span> the wind sped Dick—it must be now or never. The fear was upon him +that <em>high</em> tides, at any rate, did reach the ledge of safety where the +girls were sheltering. He fancied he had seen water-marks above that. +Then about Oscar: that was a terrible height to fall. What if he was +dead? what if he should revive, and, not being sensible, fall off the +shelf of rock?—the girls could not hold him back. He must have struck +his head fearfully. “I thought, having such a craze for being a sailor, +he would have had a steadier head and more of sea-legs. I wish <em>I</em>’d +gone down, and he held the rope.” Such thoughts came crowding into the +boy’s head as he scudded along.</p> + +<p>Away to the right were the fishing-boats coming in, their sails dashed +with gold and <a name="png.137" id="png.137"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">134</span><span class="ns">] </span>crimson, but not a craft of any kind lay to the left, +where lives, so to speak, were being weighed in the balance. At last +Dick was among the fisher-folk, telling his story, and a band of the +hardy fellows put off in a boat for the scene of peril, a party mounting +over the cliffs with a strong rope, Dick foremost of all.</p> + +<p>“Let me go down: they are more to me than to you,” he pleaded, when they +were on the cliffs, above where the little party crouched on their +narrow strip of ledge. “I ought to have gone down instead of Willett; +let me go down now.”</p> + +<p>But the fishermen set him aside.</p> + +<p>“No, sir, not while we men can go down <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: the original clearly shows the semicolon outside the quotation">better”;</ins> and one, a giant in +height, strength, and kindliness of heart, tied the rope about himself, +and, as poor unfortunate Oscar had done, stepped over to the rescue.</p> + +<p>“Will the rope bear him?” asked Dick, thinking of the other’s failure.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, bear a house; never you fear!” replied he who took charge of +the rope.</p> + +<p>The sun had set, the sea looked grey and frowning, the wind sighed and +moaned among the rocks. Oscar lay perfectly still and + motion<a name="png.138" id="png.138"></a><span class="ns">-[p</span><span + class="pgmark">135</span><span class="ns">]</span>less; the +girls had turned him over, and Inna sat with his head on her lap, his +face covered with her handkerchief—it was so terrible to look upon: +that was all the change since Dick had left. Jenny sat holding a hand of +each of the twins.</p> + +<p>“For Dick’s sake; because he promised for them to Madame Giche,” she +kept whispering to herself, trying not to shudder when the spray from +the rising waters dashed over them. Dick was right; the tide would wash +the ledge presently, it was doing its best to reach it now.</p> + +<p>How boldly the fisherman made the descent! It was as nothing to him, +Dick thought, peering over. He was standing among the little prisoners.</p> + +<p>“These first, please,” said Jenny, nodding at her two charges, “because +they were given into our care, and they are the youngest.”</p> + +<p>“All right, missie,” returned the man, and, taking one of them under his +arm, went mounting up like a big fly or a spider.</p> + +<p>Hurrah! one was safe, and back he went again. His comrades, with their +boat, were standing off at no great distance, on the grey shadowy +sea—the whole scene Dick never forgot.</p> + +<p><a name="png.139" id="png.139"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">136</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“How is it with Master Willett down there?” he asked of the man, as he +landed with the first little girl.</p> + +<p>While down there he had bent over the lad a moment, and had examined +him, so was able to report.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, he’s senseless, and his face terribly battered, but he’s +alive.”</p> + +<p>He brought up the other little girl and Jenny, but as for Inna and +<span class="nobr">Oscar—</span></p> + +<p>“Better signal to our chaps out yonder to run in with the boat; ’twill +be easier for the young gentleman to get him off that way,” shouted the +man to Dick, watching from above, and made signs to his comrades to row +in with the boat.</p> + +<p>While this was being done Dick hurried away with Jenny and the twins to +put Rameses into the cart, if the poor brute was to be found, and drive +home without delay.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, quick home is the word for them, for they’re wet, and cold, +and frightened, poor dears!” said one of the men, who had children of +his own.</p> + +<p>So they left Oscar and Inna to the boatmen’s <a + name="png.140" id="png.140"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">137</span><span class="ns">] </span>kindly care, and hurried +away to look for Rameses. The dear old creature hailed them with such a +prolonged braying, standing beside the cart, as if he knew they ought to +be going. Dick put him in and drove home briskly, dropping the twins at +the Owl’s Nest, where no ill tidings had as yet found its way. But they +met Dr. Willett and Mr. Barlow well on the road, with the gig and some +sort of stretcher-bed, hastily made, for someone had handed on the news +to the farm; therefore Dick was thankful to meet the two doctors, as he +could direct them to the spot where the boat was likely to land.</p> + +<p>Poor, poor Oscar! he moaned sadly when the boatmen moved him; he was +alive to pain, if to naught besides.</p> + +<p>“Softly! softly!” so they whispered, handling him as if he had been a +baby; but Inna’s heart ached, hearing him groan and moan, as she stepped +into the boat, and nestled beside him, and more, taking his head in her +lap; and so they moved off over the darkening seas.</p> + +<p>Oscar had fallen into silent insensibility again when they landed. Then +followed another <a name="png.141" id="png.141"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">138</span><span class="ns">] </span>moaning time of pain; they laid him on the +stretcher-bed, and put him and it into the gig, as the doctor had +arranged beforehand. Inna crept in beside him, the doctor after that, +with his legs tucked up as best he could; then away they drove, as +briskly as the state of the poor sufferer allowed, leaving Mr. Barlow to +come after on foot. Mr. Gregory was at the farm when they arrived there; +heavy tidings had been reported to him—whether it was Dick or Oscar +killed, report did not know, but it fancied it was both; and two, if not +more, of the little girls were drowned—that was the story report had +told about the little party.</p> + +<p>The first thing to be done was to hurry Dick and Jenny off to bed, and +to put Oscar into his. Such a getting upstairs of sighs and moans was +it, and of aching hearts, suffering over it all. Inna broke down at +last, and sobbed as if her heart would break, when there was nothing +more for her to bear or do, and Mary took charge of her, to see her to +bed, Mrs. Grant and the doctors taking Oscar into their keeping. Well, +there was no use in mincing matters—the boy’s face was much beaten and +battered by the fall; <a name="png.142" id="png.142"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">139</span><span class="ns">] </span>it would show the scars for some time to +come—perhaps for ever: concussion of the brain, a fractured leg; even +Mrs. Grant’s heart grew sick, hearing the doctors enumerate the evils +that had befallen him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he’ll live—at least, I don’t see why he shouldn’t,” said his +uncle. “Yes, God willing, he’ll live;” but he went out to his patients +the next morning with an anxious brow.</p> + +<p>A terrible awakening came to Oscar, after that long death-like +stillness; weary days of restless insensibility and pain followed. Poor +suffering boy, it was hard to hear him moan and rave over the fancied +peril of the girls.</p> + +<p>“Inna, Inna!” he would cry. “I believe she cared for me more than +anybody else in the world, and now I’m leaving her to die. I would save +her if I could,” and he would try to spring out of his bed—only try, +poor maimed lad; but these fits of restless insensibility wasted his +strength sadly.</p> + +<p>In vain Mrs. Grant tried to soothe him; sometimes his uncle sent to the +Owl’s Nest for Inna, exiled there against her will, because being in the +house, hearing his moans and wild cries, <a + name="png.143" id="png.143"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">140</span><span class="ns">] </span>made her pale and ill, +following close upon the strain to her childish nerves before.</p> + +<p>The doctor’s heart misgave him terribly at this time. Would his dear +dead brother’s son die—slip, as it were, away from him, his father’s +brother, who had taken the friendless lad to his heart, in the place of +the younger brother he had well-nigh idolised? Only in his quiet, +reserved, absent-minded way he had never thought how much he cared for +him. He sent for his small niece—the child who had stolen into all +their hearts with her gentle, unobtrusive love, and would stand aside +from the bed when she came with a heavy sigh, while she spoke the boy’s +name. She had more power to soothe him than he; she laid her small cool +hand on Oscar’s feverish one, holding it till he seemed to understand +who it was near him. Then he would sink into long, unrefreshing, heavy +slumber, to awake to all the wild frenzy again. Thus, to and fro went +the little maiden from the farm to the Owl’s Nest and Madame Giche, who +chatted to and tried to amuse her when there, and to beguile her from +her childish anxiety.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, my husband descended from a <a + name="png.144" id="png.144"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">141</span><span class="ns">] </span>French family,” she said one +evening, finding her in the picture-gallery, where she so loved to be, +as usual passing from picture to picture, and always stopping at that of +Madame Giche’s son, to think over the sad tale, and to wonder where that +little child was whom Madame Giche had never found. “Yes, dear, he was +of French family. Some said my son was like him, but I think he was more +like me;” and the aged lady regarded his portrait fondly, standing +behind her little guest.</p> + +<p>“I think he’s very much like you, dear Madame Giche; and, do you know, +he always reminds me of mamma; ’tis the eyes, I think—they look at me +so!” There came a quiver into the child’s voice.</p> + +<p>“Were mamma’s eyes dark?” questioned Madame Giche.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no! Mamma’s eyes are like mine. People say I am very like mamma.”</p> + +<p>“And papa—what is he like?”</p> + +<p>“He is dark, and—and that is all.”</p> + +<p>“An artist, is he not?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; he was painting the portrait of the gentleman with whom he’s gone +abroad when—<a name="png.145" id="png.145"></a><span class="ns"> [p</span><span + class="pgmark">142</span><span class="ns">] </span>when he was taken ill”—the child’s sweet grey eyes filled +with tears. “He broke a blood-vessel, and—and ’twas said he would die +if he spent the winter in England.”</p> + +<p>“And so the gentleman took him abroad?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; it was very kind of him. A Mr. Mortimer—his father was rich once, +only he lost his estate, so his son was poor, only he married a rich +lady; and they are so happy, and Mrs. Mortimer is so beautiful,” went on +the child.</p> + +<p>“Mortimer! Mortimer!”—the ancient lady shook her head. “No, I don’t +know the name,” she sighed, looking at her son’s picture again.</p> + +<p>“I wonder where the little boy is, Madame Giche?” said Inna, out of the +silence that followed, noting the aged mother’s fond gaze.</p> + +<p>“Little boy, dear?” was the dreamy response.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Madame Giche, your dear little grandson.”</p> + +<p>“My dear, he’s not a little boy—he’s thirty-three years of age—that +is, if he’s living.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, how strange! why, he is just as old as papa, and I keep fancying +him a little boy.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.146" id="png.146"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">143</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>“No, dear, no,” sighed Madame Giche. “And so papa is thirty-three?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, just the age of Mr. Mortimer; they kept their last birthday +together—you know—in Italy,” was the quivering response. She could not +speak of her absent ones so calmly as her aged friend.</p> + +<p>“But papa is better, is he not, my dear?” questioned Madame Giche +cheerfully, noting the tremor in her voice.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! and seeing and doing so much, he is almost well—and—and +having his heart’s desire, at last, in seeing Rome.”</p> + +<p>“Was he never there before?”</p> + +<p>“No, not since he was a very little boy. But Mr. Mortimer was; he has +travelled a great deal; he married his wife abroad—in Switzerland, I +think.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, indeed!” and again Madame Giche sighed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think—I think he was tutor to a young gentleman there. You +know, he does not mind my telling you; he often talks to people about +that time—he doesn’t mind a bit,” said the conscientious little girl.</p> + +<p><a name="png.147" id="png.147"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">144</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>Just then the twins brought Inna a letter from Italy, and from her +mamma. Madame Giche saw how the child’s hand trembled at taking it, and +drew the two little girls away, to let her read it in peace.</p> + +<p>This she did, sitting down on the topmost stair of the grand staircase, +among the coloured lights. It brought her good news—her father and +mother were to come home early next summer, and she had thought when +parted from them that they would not return for three years.</p> + +<p>“Madame Giche,” said she, after she had wiped away the happy tears which +would come, dancing into the tapestried room, almost like one of the +twins, “papa and mamma are coming home next summer.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, dear: that won’t be long to wait,” returned the kindly old +lady; and Inna, remembering the long, long years of waiting she had +known, nestled to her side and kissed her.</p> + +<p>Another joy came to Inna that same evening. Oscar was better, was +conscious at last; he had just awoke from a sweet refreshing sleep, and +cheered all their hearts at the farm, and his uncle had pronounced him +out of danger. Dick <a name="png.150" id="png.150"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">145</span><span class="ns">] </span>Gregory brought the news to the Owl’s Nest. The +change for the better in his friend had come at the right time; +to-morrow he was to go back to school, he told Inna, as she strayed out +to him on the moonlit terrace.</p> + +<p class="illus seppg"><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">144a</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span><a + name="png.148" id="png.148"></a><img + src="images/illus148-sml.jpg" width="325" height="491" + alt="" title="" /><br + />“DICK SHOOK HER BY THE HAND.”</p> + <p class="loilink"><span class="ns">[Return to </span><a + title="Return to list of illustrations." + href="#png.006">List of Illustrations</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> + +<p>“And now, hurrah!” cried the happy boy, tossing up his cap, and making +Inna laugh a tinkling, happy laugh, such as she had not indulged in for +so many anxious days. Then Dick shook her by the hand as she told him of +her letter, with its good news, bade her cheer up, and promised to tell +Jenny, whom he pointed out to her away down the shadowy avenue, standing +by the donkey and cart—not to shock Madame Giche with the rumbling old +thing by bringing it nearer, he told her.</p> + + + +<p class="toclink"><span class="ns">[Back to </span><a + title="Return to table of contents." + href="#png.004">Contents</a><span class="ns">]</span></p> +<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.151" id="png.151"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">146</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>CHAPTER XII.<br /> + +<small>NEW THOUGHTS AND WAYS—THE HEIRESS OF WYVERN COURT.</small></h2> + + +<p class="firstword"><span>Spring</span> again, and Oscar and his uncle had been out round the farm. The +boy was somewhat spiritless and weary-looking; he could not be +pronounced to be ill or really weak now, yet there was something wanting +in him which ought to have been there, making him more atune to +spring-time.</p> + +<p>His face was not much the worse for its battering on the rocks. He was +still a good-looking youth, as Mr. Barlow told him one day; to which +Inna responded, as the boy was silent, that she was glad, because nice +looks were nice. This made Oscar laugh at last, and remark that nice, as +used in the sense she used it, was only a girl’s way of using it. Yet he +could be grumpy still, though there was certainly a change for the +better in him in that way.</p> + +<p><a name="png.152" id="png.152"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">147</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>As for Inna, she had been like a little shadow about him all through the +winter, sitting by him through the long, cold, snowy days in the +dining-room, he on a couch by the fire, she on a footstool, reading to +him, chatting, working out puzzles—she and he together—and heaping up +the fire till it blazed again. Once they had an earnest talk of that +which was always making Oscar’s heart heavy and his brow gloomy, of the +time when he would have to take to the farming.</p> + +<p>Thus Oscar was, in a way, prepared for what his uncle said to him after +their walk round the farm that fine spring day.</p> + +<p>“Oscar, do you know why I’ve taken you round the farm to-day?”</p> + +<p>The boy had thrown himself listlessly on a couch near the fire.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose to remind me of what I’m to be,” returned he.</p> + +<p>“Well, yes, you have guessed rightly; and, my boy, has it ever struck +you that you’re not fitted for what you want to be?” asked Dr. Willett, +doctor-like, going to the point at once, and so saving suffering.</p> + +<p><a name="png.153" id="png.153"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">148</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Yes, I know I’m too big a coward for it; and I suppose other people +know it as well.”</p> + +<p>“No, not a coward, Oscar—events have proved that not to be correct. For +instance, no coward would have saved that child at the fire; yet they +told me you fainted as soon as ’twas done. The doctor at Bulverton +Hospital wrote me that he thought there was something peculiar in the +formation of your brain: what happened at Swallow’s Cliff proves the +same thing, and confirms my opinion of you, formed years ago—that your +head would never do for climbing giddy heights, nor steer you through +dangers in safety to yourself or to others. So, my boy, your sailor +dream will have to be set aside.”</p> + +<p>“It was more than a dream, it was—it <span class="nobr">was——”</span> the boy broke down and +sobbed, burying his face among the pillows of the couch.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a while, and when Oscar looked up he saw a tear +trickling down his uncle’s cheek, as he stood with his back to the fire.</p> + +<p>“Uncle Jonathan, is that tear for me?” he asked, in wistful surprise.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my boy; because I know what you are + <a name="png.154" id="png.154"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">149</span><span class="ns">] </span>feeling. My life has been a +silent one—too silent perhaps—but there are things that I, too, have +missed in that same life. I doubt if there are many lives without the +miss and the loss.”</p> + +<p>Something prompted the boy to stretch out his hand toward his uncle, and +he took it with such a warm grasp.</p> + +<p>“Uncle, I’ll be a farmer; I’ve intended to tell you so for +days—<span class="nobr">only——”</span></p> + +<p>“Well, never mind, we understand each other now; and let me say this +much, Oscar: the humdrum farm-life, as I’ve heard you call it behind my +back”—Dr. Willett smiled somewhat sadly—“won’t be so humdrum as you +think, if you make of it a life work—a something to be handled nobly, +and made the most of. A tinker’s life could be hardly humdrum with that +end in view.”</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div>“If I were a tinker, no tinker beside</div> +<div class="i1">Should mend an old kettle like me;</div> +<div>Let who will be second, whatever betide,</div> +<div class="i1">The first I’m determined to be,”</div> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctd">came jingling through the boy’s brain, and made him smile.</p> + +<p>“Yes, uncle, I see; thank you for speaking out.” He raised his uncle’s +hand to his lips and <a name="png.155" id="png.155"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">150</span><span class="ns">] </span>kissed it, as a girl might have done; the distance +between him and his uncle was bridged over at last for ever.</p> + +<p>“You see, I never thought Uncle Jonathan cared for me before,” he said +to Inna afterward.</p> + +<p>And now Inna seemed to walk on air; going here and there about the farm +with Oscar, who was too weak for study still, but trying with all his +might to take an interest in what was going on out of doors.</p> + +<p>“A good long voyage would cure him of his sea-fever, and quite set him +up for hard work,” remarked Mr. Barlow to the doctor; and both wondered +if it could be managed.</p> + + +<p class="tb">Well, in the midst of all this, home came Mr. and Mrs. Weston one fine +May day, like swallows, to make Inna’s summer complete. They arrived +suddenly, as travellers often do, the letter that was sent to announce +them making its appearance the morning after they were at the farm—for +such things do happen now and then.</p> + +<p>Now the days followed on indeed like a happy dream to Inna, she and her +mother comparing notes together, and joining the threads of their +<a name="png.156" id="png.156"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">151</span><span class="ns">] </span>divided lives again. Mr. Mortimer spirited her father off to London, for +they all came in a bunch to the farm; Mrs. Mortimer also accompanied the +gentlemen; but when the business which took them there was arranged, +they were to return to keep holiday with Mrs. Weston and Inna.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the little girl introduced her mother to Madame Giche and her +nieces, and showed her, at her aged friend’s request, the fine old +house, took her to the picture-gallery, to hear the story of Madame +Giche’s son, who broke her heart; and if Mrs. Weston’s very soul was +stirred within her, hearing the sad tale and looking at its poor dead +subject’s face, nobody knew it—she kept it to herself. Then back came +the three from London, like happy children, to join the rest.</p> + +<p>“With his house full of company, the doctor felt bound to come out of +his shell to entertain them,” as Mr. Barlow remarked to Oscar.</p> + +<p>But Dr. Willett was quite equal to playing host, and taking the lead in +all the clever talk going on at his table, between his old friend, who +slily looked amused—an artist, a gentleman with a rich wife, and a +beauty—and two ladies; + <a name="png.157" id="png.157"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">152</span><span class="ns">] </span>the younger members hearing, and saying +nothing, but wondering at Uncle Jonathan’s ease and eloquence. But there +came a break to this; Madame Giche would like Inna to bring her artist +father and his friend to the Owl’s Nest, to be introduced to her, and to +see the pictures, some of which were supposed to be good.</p> + +<p>So one day they all went, Inna feeling the importance of the part she +had to play, and hoping she should come out of it all gracefully. Ah! +she need not have disquieted herself. Sweetly gracious was Madame Giche, +wrapped about with a black lace shawl, sitting by the wood fire in the +tapestried room, and rising in her stately way when Inna led the +gentlemen in, holding a hand of each, and <span class="nobr">saying—</span></p> + +<p>“Madame Giche, this is papa, and this is Mr. Mortimer.”</p> + +<p>Little dreamt she what would follow, nor they either. Inna fancied she +heard her aged friend murmur, like an echo, her last word, “Mortimer!” +as she glided from them, to stand by her side, <span class="nobr">then——</span></p> + +<p>“Hugh!” they all heard that: ’twas like a musical wail of gladness; and +Madame Giche <a name="png.158" id="png.158"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">153</span><span class="ns">] </span>sank into her high-backed + chair—like a snowflake was her +face for whiteness—and fainted.</p> + +<p>“She is dead! Madame Giche is dead!” sobbed the little girl, but Long, +whom they hastily summoned, <span class="nobr">said—</span></p> + +<p>“No, miss; ’tis only a faint,” and asked if the gentlemen would carry +her to her chamber, so that she could be revived in quiet.</p> + +<p>This Mr. Weston did, lingering with his little daughter and Mr. Mortimer +on the terrace outside, to hear tidings of the poor lady’s state before +leaving. Here a servant came to them before many minutes had passed, +though the time seemed long to them in their perplexity. Madame Giche +was better, she said, but begged them to excuse her seeing them now, and +would they come by appointment to-morrow, at ten o’clock?</p> + +<p>You may be sure Inna lived in a state of continual excitement and +curiosity, so mysterious was Madame Giche’s fainting fit to her, for the +remainder of that day and until ten o’clock on the morrow; and when she +saw the two gentlemen set forth alone for the interview, she not being +needed now, she felt like a very inquisitive little girl, who did not +half like being left behind + <a name="png.159" id="png.159"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">154</span><span class="ns">] </span>and so not to see and hear what might +happen next.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the two arrived at the Owl’s Nest, and reached the +tapestried room, where Madame Giche, still like a snowflake for +paleness, and sweetly weak and trembling, received them, not rising from +her chair this time. Ah! well, it was no time for ceremony. Question +followed question from the poor old lady’s lips as to who was Mr. +Weston’s father, when born, his real name, and so forth, until the +artist sat down and told her his story—for he had one.</p> + +<p>“My father was a gentleman, and died rather suddenly in Italy, when I +was three years old; my mother followed him three weeks after, of a +broken heart, ’twas said, and I was adopted by a friend of my father’s, +an artist, named Welthorp, a great traveller, but kind and good, who +took me to Australia—in fact, almost all round the world—and finally +to London, where he and his wife died—both died while I was a mere lad. +But I had learnt to dabble and paint, and so, making the most of my +knowledge, have managed by degrees to struggle up to what I am.”</p> + +<p>This was his meagre story.</p> + +<p><a name="png.160" id="png.160"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">155</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“My father? no, I never knew who he was, nor his name—not Weston; Mr. +Welthorp knew that much—but my father was a reserved man: he never +mentioned who he was, nor what his position or property, not even to +him. I’ve heard he sent a message to his mother when dying, <span class="nobr">but——”</span></p> + +<p>The interruption came from Madame Giche, who suddenly clasped his hand, +crying, “That ring, where did you get it—say?”</p> + +<p>“It was my father’s ring, all he had to show of his former life, so to +speak;” and Mr. Weston took the ring from his finger like a man in a +dream—a costly gold ring, studded with diamonds.</p> + +<p>“It is my dead husband’s ring; I gave it to my son to wear in memory of +him when he attained his eighteenth birthday,” cried Madame Giche. “See +here”—and her trembling fingers touched a spring—“here are their +initials, my boy’s and his father’s.” Ah! yes, there they were, there +was no denying it.</p> + +<p>Denying it! sweet-eyed, eager old lady, she led them to the gallery, and +made them look at that all-convincing portrait of her son, over + <a name="png.161" id="png.161"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">156</span><span class="ns">] </span>which +unconscious Inna had dreamt so often, longing for her mother, she +scarcely knew why, while it was her father’s face spoke to her mystified +little heart. Ah! it was as clear as the light of day before Mr. Weston +and Mr. Mortimer left the Owl’s Nest that morning. Mr. Weston was the +rightful master of Wyvern Court, and Inna its heiress to come +after—Madame Giche’s great-granddaughter.</p> + + +<p class="tb">There was a right joyful Christmas keeping at Wyvern Court that year: it +was all joy, peace, and home-coming to Madame Giche; all a fairy dream +to Inna and the twins, to have Dick and Jenny as their guests, Dr. +Willett, Mr. Barlow, and Oscar coming up for the Twelfth Night.</p> + +<p>“I say, who would have thought you’d prove to be the heiress of Wyvern +Court that day when I met you in the railway carriage?” said Dick +Gregory—he, Jenny, Inna, the twins, all out on the terrace, in the +moonlight, at the old court, listening to the bells on Christmas +evening.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know it myself,” returned Inna. “You see, papa’s illness and +all was like the cloud with the silver lining.”</p> + +<p><a name="png.162" id="png.162"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">157</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>“Your cloud was lined with gold, Miss Giche,” remarked Dick, “and no +mistake!”</p> + +<p>“It is <em>our</em> cloud as well—mine and Olive’s—isn’t it, Inna dear?” +spoke Sybil, clinging to the new little heiress’s hand. “We are to be +co-heiresses, all three, and grand-auntie knows how.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ay! share and share, like dividing one apple between the three of +you; but Inna is <em>the</em> heiress,” said Dick.</p> + + +<p class="fin">THE END</p> + + + + +<p class="fin smcap smaller prvfil"><a + name="png.163" id="png.163"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">158</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>Printed by Cassell & Company, Limited, + La Belle Sauvage, London, E.C.</p> + + + +<hr class="pg" /> + +<p><a name="png.164" id="png.164"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span + class="pgmark">ad1</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span><span + class="sans ital">“The extraordinary popularity of LITTLE FOLKS has placed it beyond both +rivalry and criticism. LITTLE FOLKS is at the head of English +illustrated magazines for children.”</span><span class="smcap nobr">—The Queen</span>.</p> + +<p class="ctr sans">MONTHLY, 6d.</p> + + +<h3>Little Folks Magazine.</h3> + +<p class="smaller">“Everyone ought to know by this time that <span class="smcap">Little Folks</span> is <em class="sans">the best +Magazine for Children</em>.”<cite class="nobr">—Graphic</cite>.</p> + +<p class="smaller">“<span class="smcap">Little Folks</span> is always a welcome arrival both in the nursery and the +schoolroom. It is among the very best of all the numerous children’s +magazines that are now published. Many of the woodcuts are really quite +charming works of art.”<cite class="nobr">—Academy</cite>.</p> + + +<h4>The Half-Yearly Volume of Little Folks</h4> + + <p class="hang sans ital">With Pictures on nearly every Page, together with Six Full-page + Coloured Plates and numerous Illustrations printed in Colour, is + published in Boards at 3s. 6d.; or cloth gilt, 5s.</p> + +<p class="smaller">“There is reading enough in a Volume of <span class="smcap">Little Folks</span> to keep a big +boarding school quiet for six weeks.”—<cite class="nobr">Sportsman</cite>.</p> + + +<p class="ctr smaller"><span class="smcap">CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited</span>, <em>London</em>; <em>Paris</em>, <em>New York & Melbourne</em>.</p> + + +<hr class="wide" /> + + +<p class="ctr sans">Picture boards, 2s. 6d.; cloth, 3s. 6d.</p> + + +<h3 class="left">Bo-Peep.</h3> + + <p class="hang smaller"><span class="sans ital">A Treasury for the Little Ones. YEARLY VOLUME</span> With Original + Stories and Verses by popular Authors. Illustrated with 8 Full-page + Coloured Plates, and numerous other Pictures in Colour.</p> + + +<h3 class="left">Tiny Tots.</h3> + + <p class="hang smaller"><span class="sans ital">A Magazine for the Very Little Ones.</span> Set in Bold Type and + Profusely Illustrated. <cite>YEARLY VOLUME</cite>. 1s. 4d.</p> + + +<p class="ctr smaller"><span class="smcap">CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited</span>, <em>London</em>; <em>Paris</em>, <em>New York & Melbourne</em>.</p> + + +<hr class="pg" /> + +<h3 class="newpg"><a name="png.165" id="png.165"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span + class="pgmark">ad2</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span><small>ATTRACTIVE</small><br /> BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</h3> + +<p class="ctr sans ital">Published by CASSELL & COMPANY.</p> + + +<dl title="Publisher's list"> +<dt>Red Jacket: The Last of the Senecas.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">EDWARD S. ELLIS</span>. With 10 +Full-page Illustrations. 2s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>Iron Heart: War Chief of the Iroquois.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">EDWARD S. ELLIS</span>. With 4 +Full-page Illustrations. 2s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>Sisters Three: A Story for Girls.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">JESSIE MANSERGH</span> (Mrs. <span class="smcap">G. de HORNE +VAIZEY</span>). With 8 Plates. 3s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>A Girl Without Ambition.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">ISABEL SUART ROBSON</span>. With 8 Illustrations +3s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>Britain’s Roll of Glory; <span class="smaller">or, The Victoria Cross, its Heroes and their +Valour</span>.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">D. H. PARRY</span>. With 8 Full-page Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Stanley L. +Wood</span>. <cite>Cheap Edition.</cite> Revised and Enlarged. Cloth, 3s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>Master Charlie: <span class="smaller">Painter, Poet, Novelist, and Teacher</span>.</dt> <dd>With numerous +Examples of his Work Collected by <span class="smcap">C. HARRISON</span> and <span class="smcap">S. H. HAMER</span>. Picture +Boards, 1s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>Whys and Other Whys; <span class="smaller">or, Curious Creatures and their Tales</span>.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">S. H. +HAMER</span>. With numerous Illustrations by <span class="smcap">HARRY E. NEILSON</span>. Boards, 3s. 6d.; +cloth, 5s.</dd> + +<dt>On Board the <cite>Esmeralda</cite>; <span class="smaller">or, Martin Leigh’s Log</span>.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">JOHN C. +HUTCHESON</span>. <cite>Cheap Edition.</cite> Illustrated, 1s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>The Rebellion of Lil Carrington.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">L. T. MEADE</span>. Illustrated. 3s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>The World Of Adventure.</dt> <dd>Profusely Illustrated with Stirring Pictures +and 18 Coloured Plates. <cite>Cheap Edition.</cite> In Three Volumes. 5s. each.</dd> + +<dt>Little Folks’ History of England.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">ISA CRAIG-KNOX</span>. With 32 +Illustrations. <cite>New Edition.</cite> Cloth, 1s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>A History Of England.</dt> <dd>From the Landing of Julius Cæsar to the Present +Day. By <span class="smcap">H. O. ARNOLD-FORSTER, M.A.</span> <cite>Revised Edition.</cite> Illustrated. 5s. +Cloth gilt, gilt edges, 6s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>Micky Magee’s Menagerie; <span class="smaller">or, Strange Animals and their Doings</span>.</dt> <dd>By <span class="smcap">S. H. + HAMER</span>. With 8 Full-page Coloured Plates and 100 Illustrations in the +Text by <span class="smcap">HARRY B. NEILSON</span>. Coloured Boards, 1s. 6d.</dd> + +<dt>The Master of the Strong Hearts, <span class="smaller">A Story of Custer’s Last Rally</span>.</dt> <dd>By +<span class="smcap">E. S. BROOKS</span>. With 10 Plates. 322 pages. Cloth gilt, 2s. 6d.</dd> +</dl> + +<p class="ctr smaller"><span class="smcap">CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited</span>, <em>London</em>; <em>Paris</em>, <em>New York & Melbourne</em>.</p> + +</div> +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>Transcriber’s Notes:</h3> + +<p>Obvious spelling/typographical and punctuation +errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other +occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.</p> + +<p class="nopr">Transcriber’s notes in text—mostly detailing corrections—are +indicated by faint dotted underlining. +Scroll the mouse over the word and the note will <ins class="transcriber" + title="Transcriber’s note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p> + +<p>Inconsistent hyphenations (school-boy/schoolboy, fire-light/firelight, +bed-chamber/bedchamber) have been retained.</p> + +</div> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEIRESS OF WYVERN COURT***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22398-h.txt or 22398-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/3/9/22398">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/3/9/22398</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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