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diff --git a/old/63386-0.txt b/old/63386-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6bd8069..0000000 --- a/old/63386-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5351 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Alone on a Wide Wide Sea, Vol. II (of 3), by -W. Clark Russell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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 -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Alone on a Wide Wide Sea, Vol. II (of 3) - -Author: W. Clark Russell - -Release Date: October 6, 2020 [EBook #63386] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA, VOL 2 *** - - - - -Produced by Charlie Howard and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -NEW NOVELS. - - - THE DUCHESS OF POWYSLAND. By GRANT ALLEN. 3 vols. - - CORINTHIA MARAZION. By CECIL GRIFFITH. 3 vols. - - A SONG OF SIXPENCE. By HENRY MURRAY. 1 vol. - - SANTA BARBARA, &c. By OUIDA. 1 vol. - - IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. By AMBROSE BIERCE. 1 vol. - - TRACKED TO DOOM. By DICK DONOVAN. 1 vol. - - COLONEL STARBOTTLE’S CLIENT, AND SOME OTHER PEOPLE. By BRET - HARTE. 1 vol. - - ADVENTURES OF A FAIR REBEL. By MATT. CRIM. 1 vol. - - IN A STEAMER CHAIR. By ROBERT BARR. 1 vol. - - THE FOSSICKER: a Romance of Mashonaland. By ERNEST GLANVILLE. - 1 vol. - - -London: CHATTO & WINDUS, 214 Piccadilly, W. - - - - - ALONE - ON A WIDE WIDE SEA - - VOL. II. - - - - - PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE - LONDON - - - - - ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA - - BY - W. CLARK RUSSELL - - AUTHOR OF - ‘MY SHIPMATE LOUISE’ ‘THE ROMANCE OF JENNY HARLOWE’ ETC. - - [Illustration] - - IN THREE VOLUMES - VOL. II. - - London - CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY - 1892 - - - - -CONTENTS - -OF - -THE SECOND VOLUME - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - IX. THE CRY OF A CHILD 1 - - X. ALICE LEE 31 - - XI. I AM SUPPLIED WITH CLOTHES 70 - - XII. ‘AGNES’ 101 - - XIII. THE SHIP IS MY HOME 137 - - XIV. AM I A CALTHORPE? 171 - - XV. THE GIPSY 203 - - XVI. MY FORTUNE 235 - - XVII. MY DYING FRIEND 270 - - - - -ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE CRY OF A CHILD - - -It was cold, but the sweep of the dry night-wind was refreshing and -inspiriting to me, who had been confined to my cabin all day. A bull’s -eye lamp burnt under the overhanging ledge of the poop-deck. Beneath -it was the clock, and the small hand was close upon one. The gleams of -the lamp touched no living figure, and so lonely looked the ship that I -could have easily supposed myself the only human being on board of her. -The great fabric was leaning over under a vast cloud of canvas, and a -sound of stealthy hissing, such as the stem of a vessel makes when she -is swiftly tearing over a quiet surface of ocean, rose into the wind on -either hand. - -A ladder was close beside me, conducting on to the poop, or upper deck. -I mounted it, and stood at the head of the steps looking around me. I -saw but two figures. One of them was on the other side of the deck. -He was motionless, with his arm round a rope, and his shape stood out -against the sparkling stars as sharply as though he were a statue in -ebony. The other figure was at the aftermost end, at the wheel. There -was a deep shadow of rigging and of sail where I had come to a pause. -The dusky hue of the cloak I wore blended with the obscurity, and I was -not observed by the figure opposite. - -I looked over the side and watched the water sweeping past white as -milk, with a frequent glitter of beautiful green lights in it. I looked -away into the far distance, where the confines of the black plain of -the ocean were lost in the darkness of the night, and fixed my eyes -upon the stars, which were shining sparely in those dim and distant -reaches, and said to myself, Where is my home? Which of all these -countless stars is shining down upon my home now? But have I a home? -How can I tell, for I do not know who I am? Then I looked up at the -swollen, pallid breasts of sails climbing one on top of another into -faint, almost visionary spaces where the loftiest were; and whilst I -looked I heard two silver chimes ring out of the darkness forward. What -can those bells mean? I wondered. How marvellous was the hush upon this -great, speeding shadow of a ship, this dim bulk of symmetrical clouds -waving its star-reaching heights in solemn measure as though to the -accompaniment of some deep spiritual ocean-music, heard by it, but -soundless to my ears! Where was the multitude of people who swarmed -upon the deck when I had come on board in the morning? I knew they were -resting below, and the thought of that great crowd slumbering in the -heart of the sweeping, cloud-like shadow at which I gazed awed me; but -the emotion changed into one of fear and of loneliness suddenly, and to -rally myself I turned and walked towards the after-end of the vessel. - -The moon was in the west, and the light in the sky that way was the -silvery azure which I had witnessed through my cabin porthole. I walked -to the extreme end of the ship, where the helm was, and stood by the -side of the wheel. When I was on board the French vessel I had always -found something fascinating in the machinery of the helm. I used to -gaze with childish wonder at the compass-card, steadily in its brass -bowl pointing out the little vessel’s course, and I would watch with -surprise the instant response of the small fabric to the movement of -the wheel. - -But now as I stood here beside _this_ wheel I surveyed a stretch of -deck that seemed measureless, as the white planks, glimmering like sand -from my feet went stretching and fading into the obscurity far forward. -Behind me, from under the high, dark stern of the ship, rushed the -pale and yeasty wake, like a line of pale smoke blowing over the sea. -The stars danced in the squares of the rigging; they tipped as with -diamond-points the sides of the sails, and they blazed at the summits -of the three dim spires of the ship’s masts; and the moon in the west, -poised in an atmosphere of delicate greenish silver, trembled a waving -fan-shaped stream of light upon the summer pouring of the ocean under -her. - -All at once the helmsman, on the other side of the wheel, of whose -presence I had hardly been sensible, uttered a strange low sort of -bellowing cry, and tied along the deck to where the figure of the -other man was. Involuntarily I put my hand upon the wheel, as though -instinctively feeling that it must be held steady, and that it must -be held in any case, or the ship would be without governance. The two -men came slowly along. The motions of each were full of wariness, and -suggestive in the highest degree of alarm and astonishment. - -‘Dummed if it ain’t a-steering the ship,’ said one of them in a hoarse -voice. - -‘You scoundrel, it’s a woman!’ cried the other. ‘How dare you quit your -post. You’ll have the ship in the wind in a minute,’ and they both -arrived together at the wheel running, one being pushed by the other. - -The man who pushed the other was dressed in a monkey-jacket with brass -buttons and a naval cap. He was clearly one of the ship’s officers, -but it was not surprising that I should be meeting him now for the -first time. He thrust his face into my hood, and then backed a step -and exclaimed, ‘Who are you?’ then immediately added, ‘Oh! of course. -You’re the person that was taken out of the French brig. Come away -from the wheel, will you, ma’m? Here’s an Irishman that believes you a -ghost.’ - -The other muttered in his throat. I walked some paces away, and the -officer accompanied me. - -‘How is it that you’re not in your bed?’ said he. - -‘I have been sleeping all day,’ I answered, ‘and have come up to -breathe the air.’ - -‘We do not allow females to wander about the ship of a night,’ said he. -‘However, you cannot be supposed to know the rules.’ I saw him by the -moonlight eye me strenuously and earnestly. ‘That’s a big bandage you -have on, ma’m. I hope you are not much hurt?’ - -‘I was found lying injured and unconscious in a boat by the Frenchmen.’ - -‘And they tell me you have no memory.’ - -‘I can remember nothing,’ I answered. - -‘What is that?’ cried he, pointing. - -‘It is the moon,’ said I. - -‘What is that but memory?’ he exclaimed. - -‘I remember nothing of my past,’ said I. ‘Down to the hour in which I -awoke to consciousness on board the French brig everything is black. -But to whom am I speaking?’ - -‘You are speaking to the chief mate of the _Deal Castle_, and his name -is Andrew Harris.’ - -‘What is a chief mate?’ I asked. - -‘He is the person that is next in command to the captain.’ - -‘Then you are of consequence?’ said I. - -He smiled broadly. ‘There are people who will run when I sing out.’ - -‘Nobody appears to be awake on board this ship, saving us who are -here,’ said I. - -‘Have you come on deck to find that out?’ he exclaimed; then directing -his face at the forecastle he uttered a cry, and out of the shadow -forward there instantly came a response. He cried again, and a rumbling -‘Ay, ay, sir!’ came out of the shadow. ‘So you see,’ said he, ‘there -are four, not three of us, awake; and if I were to sing out again, in -about five seconds the decks would be full of sailors running about. -And you’ve lost your memory? D’ye know what part of England you hail -from?’ - -‘I cannot even tell that I am English.’ - -‘What do they want to make out? That you’re from Greenland? I am trying -to catch your accent. I have an A 1 ear for accents. I hoped at first -you might be Lancashire, where I hail from. Then I fancied I could -hear Derbyshire in you. But I reckon it’ll end in Middlesex’ he added -thoughtfully; ‘that’s to say if London’s in Middlesex, which no man -who goes to sea can be sure of, for every time he returns he wants a -new chart, such is the growth of the little village. Does my talk give -you any ideas?’ I shook my head. ‘Doesn’t the word London give you any -idea?’ - -I thought and thought, and said, ‘It is a familiar word, but it -suggests nothing.’ - -‘Curse the sea!’ he exclaimed, with an irritable twist of his head, -as he looked round the horizon; ‘how ill it treats those who trust -themselves to it! It robs you of memory, and it keeps me a poor man. -Curse it, I say! I should like to know the name of the chap that was -the first to go afloat. I’d burn him in effigy. But it’s some comfort -to guess where his soul is. It wasn’t Noah. Noah had to save his life, -and I allow he hated the sea as much as I do. All animals--pooh! but -not worse than emigrants. And so you’ve lost your memory. And now -what’s to bring it back to you, I wonder?’ He broke off to exclaim -sharply to the helmsman and repeated, ‘What’s to bring it back to you, -I wonder?’ - -He took a turn as though the remedy were in his mind and merely -demanded a little thought. I watched him with deep anxiety. How could I -tell but that even from _him_, that even from this man whom I had never -before seen, with whom I was now discoursing in the heart of the ocean -night, amid the silence of a faintly moonlit deck, with the sound of -wind-brushed waters rising round about us, and the pale shadows of the -leaning canvas soaring high above us--how could I tell but that even -from this stranger might come the spark, the little leaping flame of -suggestion to light up enough of my mind to enable me presently to see -all? So I watched him with deep anxiety, whilst he took two or three -turns. - -Presently he halted facing me. He was a short man, scarcely as tall as -I, square-built, and very firmly set on his legs. His hair appeared to -be the colour of ginger. His chin was shaved, and he wore a bush of -beard upon his throat. As much of his face as the moonlight silvered -disclosed a dry, arch, sailorly expression. - -‘It requires thinking over,’ said he. ‘My motto in physic is, Like -cures like. What sent your memory adrift? You’ll find it was a shock. -If the doctor would put you through a course of shocks you’d come out -right. I’m a poor man, but I’d wager every farthing I’ll receive for -the voyage, that if you were to fall overboard from the height of the -ship’s side, when you were fished up you’d have your memory. Some sort -of shock did the mischief, and any sort of shock’s going to undo it. -That’s my belief. When McEwan visits you again you tell him what I -say. Why, now, listen to this: an uncle of mine was so crippled with -rheumatism and gout that he had to be carried like a dead-drunk man on -a litter to the railway station. He was to consult some professional -nob in London. With much backing and filling he was got into the -railway carriage, and there he lay like a log, capable of moving -nothing but his eyes. Half an hour after the train had started it ran -into about forty waggons full of cattle. The bust-up was as usual: -engine off the lines, driver in halves, the remains of the fireman in -a ditch, several carriages matchwood, a dozen dead people under them, -two-and-twenty persons wounded, and the country round about full of -bleeding, galloping cattle. And who do you think was the first man to -get out and run? My uncle. The collision cured him. He was a well man -from the instant the locomotive bust into the waggons, and he has never -known an ache since. It’s a shock that’s going to do your business, -ma’m, take my word for it.’ - -I understood him imperfectly. Many of his allusions I did not in the -least comprehend, yet I listened greedily, and for some moments after -he had ceased I continued to hearken, hoping and hoping for some word, -some hint, some suggestion that would help me to even the briefest -inward glimpse. - -Three silver chimes floated out of the deep shadow of the ship forward. -‘What are those bells?’ I asked. - -‘Half-past one,’ he exclaimed; ‘and, with all respect, about time I -think for you to be abed. The captain may come on deck at any moment, -and if he finds you here he’ll be vexed that I have not before -requested you to go below.’ - -I bade him good-night, but he accompanied me as far as the head of the -steps which conducted to the quarterdeck. - -‘A shock will do it,’ said he; ‘I’m the son of a doctor, and my advice -is--shocks. The job is to administer a shock without doing the patient -more harm than good. I’ll think it over. It’ll be something to kill the -time with. D’ye know the road to your cabin? Well, good-night, ma’m.’ - -I silently opened the door of the saloon, regained my berth, and after -musing upon my conversation with the officer on deck, I closed my eyes -and fell asleep. - -‘Good morning, Miss C----,’ exclaimed Mrs. Richards, entering the cabin -with a breakfast-tray. ‘I am glad to find you up and dressed. It is a -quarter to nine o’clock, and a truly beautiful morning. There is a nice -breeze on the quarter, and the ship is going along as steadily as a -carriage. Have you slept well?’ - -‘I have slept a little.’ - -‘Well, to-day you must appear on deck. You will really show yourself -to-day. All the passengers are longing to see you, and do not forget -that by mingling amongst them, and talking, and hearing them talk, -ideas may come, and your memory with them. Here have you been a -prisoner since yesterday morning.’ - -‘No, I was on deck last night.’ - -‘What, in the dark?’ - -‘At one o’clock this morning.’ - -‘The captain would not like to hear that,’ said she, arching her -eyebrows; ‘but you will not do it again. I mean you will not go alone -on deck when everybody is asleep except the sailors on watch. What -officer was on watch last night?’ - -‘The first officer, Mr. Harris,’ said I. - -‘Did he talk with you?’ - -‘Yes; he told me that a shock might give me back my memory.’ - -‘What did the man mean?’ - -‘He said he believed if I were to fall overboard from the height of the -ship, that when I was taken out of the water the shock would be found -to have restored my memory.’ - -She burst into a loud laugh. ‘He is a truly comical gentleman,’ she -exclaimed, ‘though he never intends to be funny, for he is always in -earnest. It is said of him that ever since he was second officer, now -getting on for five years, he has offered marriage in every voyage -he has made to one of the lady-passengers. Our head steward has been -shipmate with him three voyages, and on every occasion he has offered -marriage. He is always rejected. A shock indeed!’ she exclaimed, -growing suddenly very grave--‘what an idea to put into your head! You -might go and throw yourself overboard in the belief that the act would -cure you of loss of memory. I will tell the doctor to give Mr. Harris a -hint not to talk too much. Now make a good breakfast, and by-and-by I -will call and take you to see Mrs. and Miss Lee.’ - -I sat at my solitary repast, which was bountiful indeed, and reflected -upon what Mrs. Richards had said. No! it would not help me to confine -myself to my cabin. By mingling, by conversing, by hearing others -discourse, by gazing at them, observing their dress, their manners, -their faces, some gleam might come back to touch the dark folds of -memory. In the steerage they were breakfasting somewhat noisily. There -was a great clatter of crockery, and a sound of the voices of men and -women raised as though in good spirits, and the tones of children -eagerly asking to be helped. The light upon the sea was of a dazzling -blue; through the porthole I could see the small blue billows curling -into froth as they ran with the ship, and the ship herself was going -along as smoothly as a sleigh, saving a scarcely perceptible long-drawn -rising and falling, regular as the respiration of a sleeping breast. - -I was looking through the porthole, when the door was thumped and -opened, and the ship’s doctor stepped in. - -‘Well,’ said he, in his strong North accent, knitting his brow and -staring into my face with his sharp eyes, ‘what are ye able to -recollect this morning, ma’m?’ - -‘My memory is good for everything that has happened since I first -opened my eyes on board the French vessel,’ I answered. - -‘Humph!’ He felt my pulse, examined my brow, dressed the injury afresh, -and said that I should be able to do without a bandage in a day or two. - -‘The captain tells me,’ said he, plunging his hands into his trousers -pockets and leaning against the edge of the upper bedstead, ‘that he -means to keep you on board, trusting that your memory will return -meanwhile, when he’ll be able to put you in the way of reaching your -friends. He cannot do better.’ - -‘But my memory may continue dark even to the end of the voyage,’ I -exclaimed. - -‘True, but you’re better here meanwhile. You might be consigned to the -keeping of a captain who, on his arrival in England, would set you on -shore without considering what is to become of you. How _then_, Miss -C----, for that is to be your name, I hear. But if Captain Ladmore -carries you round the world there’ll be ten months of time before ye, -and it will be strange if you aren’t able to recollect in ten months. -And now tell me--have ye never a sensation as of memory? What’s the -feeling in you when you try to look back?’ - -‘As though it were a pitch-dark night, and I was groping with my hands -over a stone wall.’ - -‘Good! Try now to think if ye have any other sensations.’ - -‘Yes, there is one; but how am I to express it?’ - -‘Try.’ - -‘When,’ I exclaimed, after a pause, ‘I endeavour to pierce the past, -I seem to be sensible as of the presence of waves of darkness, thick -folds of inky gloom swaying and revolving in black confusion, and -dripping wet.’ - -He kept his eyes fastened upon me, lost in reflection. My words seemed -to have struck him. Then, telling me it was a fine morning, and that I -must come on deck and get all the air and sunshine possible, he went -away. - -I took up a book, but I could not fix my attention. I was able to -read--that is to say, the printed characters were familiar to me, and -the words intelligible--but I could not keep my mind fastened to the -page. Growing weary of aimlessly sitting or wandering about in my -berth, I opened the door and peeped out. As I did so I heard the fat, -chuckling laugh of a baby tickled or amused. A young woman sat at the -table that was nearest to my cabin, and in front of her, on the table, -she held a baby who shook and crowed with laughter as she made faces at -it. There was nobody else to be seen. At the forward end, all about -the steps was a haze of sunshine, floating through the open hatch there -from the front windows of the saloon; otherwise the atmosphere was -somewhat gloomy. - -I stepped out of my berth and approached the young woman in order to -look at the child. She turned her head, and, seeing me, grew grave, -and stared, whilst the baby instantly ceased to laugh, and rounded its -mouth and eyes at me. - -‘That is a dear little child,’ said I. ‘What a sweet rippling laugh it -has? Is it a boy or girl?’ - -‘A girl,’ answered the young woman, with a little suggestion of recoil -in her posture, as though I was an object she could not at once make -sure of. - -‘May I kiss her?’ - -She held the baby up, and I kissed its cheek. She was a golden-haired -child of seven or eight months, with large dark eyes. She did not cry -when I kissed her. - -‘She is a fine child--a beautiful child!’ said I. ‘Are you the mother?’ - -‘No, I am the sister of the mother,’ answered the young woman, -beginning to speak as though her doubts of me were leaving her. ‘Aren’t -you the lady the sailors rescued yesterday?’ - -‘Yes,’ I said. - -‘How glad I am you were saved!’ - -She had a bonnie face, and I looked at her and smiled, and said, ‘May I -nurse baby for a minute?’ - -She put the child into my arms. I kissed it again, and the little -creature stared at me, but did not cry. - -‘You nurse her nicely,’ said the young woman. ‘How quickly a baby seems -to know an experienced hand! I cannot get the knack of holding her -comfortably.’ - -At these words or at that moment I was seized with an indescribable -feeling--a sightless yearning, a blind craving, a sense of hopeless -loneliness, that, as though it had been some exquisite pang of the -heart, caught my breath and clouded my vision, and the blood left -my face, and every limb thrilled as though an electric current were -pouring through me. The baby set up a cry, and the woman, with fear in -her countenance, snatched it out of my arms. - -‘Oh, my God! what is this?’ I exclaimed, bringing my hands to my -breast. ‘Oh, my God! what is this? I have lost--I have lost--oh! what -was it that came and went?’ - -‘What is the matter?’ exclaimed Mrs. Richards, coming out of her berth, -that was immediately beside where I stood. ‘Is it you, Miss C----? I -did not know your voice. Are you poorly?’ - -‘No,’ I answered; ‘a sudden fancy--but I cannot give it a name--I -cannot recall it--I don’t know the meaning of it. Oh, my head, my -head!’ and I sat down at the table and leaned my brow upon my hands. - -‘A little passing feeling of weakness,’ said Mrs. Richards. ‘Only -think what this poor lady has suffered,’ she added, addressing the -young woman, who had risen and gone a few paces away, and was now -standing and holding the baby and staring. ‘How could any one hope to -be speedily well after such sufferings as this lady has passed through? -But I know what will do you good, dear;’ and she slipped into her berth -and returned with a glass of her cherry-brandy, which she obliged me to -drink. ‘And now,’ said she, ‘come to your cabin and compose yourself, -and then you shall pay Mrs. Lee a visit.’ - -‘I do not feel ill,’ said I, as I seated myself in my cabin; ‘it was -a sensation. I cannot describe it. I was holding the baby, and as I -looked at it I--I----’ - -‘It might have been a little struggle of memory,’ said the stewardess. - -‘But it gave me nothing--it showed me nothing--it told me nothing,’ - -‘Never mind,’ said the stewardess. ‘How do you know but it may mean -that it is your memory waking up? I have read that people who have been -restored to life after having been nearly hanged or nearly drowned -suffered tortures, much worse tortures than when in their death -struggles. Might it not be the same with the memory? It is not dead -in you, but it is lying stunned by something dreadful that happened -to you. _Now_ it may be waking up, and its first return to life is a -torment. Let us hope it, dear. And how do you feel now?’ - -‘I should feel happy if I could believe that what you say is true.’ - -‘Well, you must have patience and keep your heart cheered up.’ She then -looked at my hair, and saying aloud, but to herself, ‘Yes, I believe it -will be the very thing,’ she left me. - -When she returned she bore in her hand a little mob-cap of velvet and -lace. ‘Put this on,’ said she. ‘It is one of four that were given to -me last voyage by a lady-passenger. I intended them for a friend in -Sydney, but you are welcome to them. Wear it, my dear.’ - -I put the cap on, and certainly it did improve my looks. ‘I will not -thank you for your kindness with my lips,’ said I; ‘if I began to speak -my thanks I should tire you out long before I could end them.’ - -She interrupted me. ‘Do not talk of thanking me. I declare, Miss C----, -I am never so happy as when I am being helpful and useful to others, -and there are many like me. Oh, yes! most of us have larger and kinder -hearts than we give one another credit for. Do you feel equal now to -paying a visit to the saloon?’ - -I answered Yes, and she led the way through the steerage and up the -small flight of steps which conducted to the after-part of the saloon. -The sunshine lay in a blaze upon the skylights, and the interior was -splendid with light and with prismatic reflections of light. There was -a sound overhead as of many people walking to and fro. The saloon was -empty; everybody would choose to be on deck on so fine a morning. - -Mrs. Richards walked to the door of one of the centre berths and -knocked. A soft voice full of music bade her enter. She turned the -handle, and held it whilst she addressed the inmate of the berth. ‘I -have brought Miss C----,’ she exclaimed. ‘The lady is here, Miss Lee. -May she step in?’ - -‘Oh, yes, pray,’ said the musical voice. - -Mrs. Richards made room for me to pass, and, pronouncing Miss Lee’s -name by way of introducing us, she added that she had a great many -duties to attend to, and quitted the berth. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -ALICE LEE - - -A young lady was seated in a comfortable armchair. A handsome skin -marked like a leopard’s covered her knees and feet, and in her lap -was an open volume. She had a great quantity of rich brown hair, a -portion of which was plaited in loops upon the back, whilst the rest -crowned her head in coils. I had no memory of fair faces with which to -compare hers; to my darkened mind it was the first beautiful face I had -seen, and as she looked up at me, smiling, with her lips in the act of -parting to address me, I gazed at her with wonder and admiration and -pity. - -Oh, what a sweet, melancholy, exquisitely beautiful face was Alice -Lee’s! There was death upon it, and it seemed the more beautiful for -that. Her eyes were large, of a soft grey, with a sad expression of -appeal in them that was never absent whether she was grave or whether -she smiled. The hollows were deep and dark-tinctured, as though they -reflected the shadow of a green leaf. Her lineaments were of perfect -delicacy: the mouth small and slightly contracted, the teeth brilliant -pearls, the cheeks sunken, slightly touched with hectic, and the -complexion of the sort of transparency that makes one imagine if a -light were held within the cheek the glow of it would shine through -the flesh. The brow was faultlessly shaped, and the blue veins showed -upon it as in marble. Her hands were cruelly thin and the white fingers -were without rings. She was dressed in what now might be called a -teagown, and it was easy to see that her attire was wholly dictated by -considerations of comfort. - -Her smile was full of a sweetness that was made sad by her eyes, as she -said, ‘I am so glad to see you. Forgive me for not rising. You see how -my mother has swathed my feet. She will be here presently. Where will -you sit? There is a chair; bring it close to me. I have been longing to -see you! I have heard so much of you from Mrs. Richards.’ - -I sat down close beside her, and she took my hand and held it whilst -she gazed at me. - -‘You are kind to wish to see me,’ said I. ‘It is happiness to me to -meet you. I am very lonely. I cannot recover my memory. It is terrible -to feel, that if I had my memory I would know--I would know--oh, but -not to be able to know! Have I a home? Are there persons dear to me -waiting for me, and wondering what has become of me? Not to be able to -know!’ said I, with my voice sinking into a whisper. - -‘Yes, it is terrible,’ she exclaimed gently. ‘But remember these -failures of memory do not last. Again and again they occur after severe -illnesses. But when is it that the memory does not return?’ - -‘But when it returns, should it return,’ said I, ‘what may it not tell -me that I have lost for ever?’ - -‘But it will soon return,’ she exclaimed, ‘and things are not lost -for ever in a short time. How long is it since you have been without -memory? Not yet a fortnight, Mr. McEwan told us. No! our minds would -need to be long blank for us to awaken and discover that things dear to -us are lost for ever. It is only by death,’ she added, softening her -voice and smiling, ‘that things are lost, and not then for ever.’ - -I looked at her! at her sunken eyes, at her drawn mouth, at the -malignant bloom her cheeks were touched with, at her thin, her -miserably thin hands, and I thought to myself, how selfish am I to -immediately intrude my sorrow upon this poor girl, who knows that she -is fading from her mother’s side, and in whose heart therefore must -be the secret, consuming grief of an approaching eternal farewell. -Her wretchedness must be greater than mine, because _her_ trouble is -positively defined to her mind, whereas mine is a deep shadow, out of -which I can evoke nothing to comfort me or to distress me, to gladden -my heart or to break it. - -She gazed at me earnestly, and with a touching look of sad affection, -as though she had long known me. I was about to speak. - -‘There is something,’ said she, ‘in your face that reminds me of a -sister I lost four years ago. It is the expression, but only the -expression. Mother will see it, I am sure.’ - -‘Was your sister like you?’ I asked. - -‘No, you would not have known us for sisters. Yet we were twins, and it -is seldom that twins do not closely resemble each other.’ - -I bent my gaze downwards. I was sensible of a sudden inward, haunting -sense of trouble, a sightless stirring of the mind, that affected me as -a pain might. - -‘When I look at you,’ she continued, ‘I fully agree with Mr. McEwan -that you are not nearly so old as your white hair makes you appear. -Most people look older as the months roll on, but as time passes you -will look younger. Even your hair may regain its natural colour, which -the doctor says is black. How strange it will be for you to look into -the glass and behold another face in it! But the change will be too -gradual for surprise.’ - -‘You are returning to England in this ship, I believe?’ said I. - -‘Yes, we engaged this cabin for the round voyage, as it is called. A -long course of sea-air has been prescribed for me. A steamer would have -carried us too swiftly for our purpose. You can tell what my malady is?’ - -She was interrupted by a little fit of coughing. - -‘What is your malady, Miss Lee?’ - -‘It is consumption,’ she answered. - -‘I could not have told. I try to think and to realise; but without -recollection how can one even guess? But now that you tell me it is -consumption, I understand the word, and I see the disease in you. I -hope it is not bad; I hope the voyage will cure it.’ - -‘It is very bad,’ she answered, looking down, and speaking softly, -and closing the volume upon her lap, ‘and I fear the voyage will not -cure it. But I fear only for my mother’s sake. I have no desire to -live as I am, ill as I am. Yet I pray that I may not die at sea. I -shrink from the idea of being buried at sea. But how melancholy is our -conversation! You come to me full of a dreadful trouble of your own, -and here am I increasing your sadness by my talk! Oh! I wish you could -tell me something about yourself. But we know your initials. That is -surely a very great thing. I am going to take the letters “A. C.”; and -put all the surnames and Christian names against them that I can think -of. One of them might be _your_ name.’ - -‘I fear I should not know it if I saw it,’ said I. - -‘We can but try,’ said she, smiling; ‘we must try everything. How proud -it would make me to be the first to help you to remember.’ - -‘What did your twin sister die of?’ - -‘Of consumption. Mother believes that such a voyage as I am taking -would have saved her life. I fear not--I fear not. My father died of -that malady. He was a shipowner at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and we live at -Newcastle, or close to it, at a place called Jesmond, and I was hoping -before I met you that I should hear an accent in your speech to tell -me that you belong to our part of England, for I believe I should know -a Northumbrian, at least a Tyneside Northumbrian, anywhere, no matter -how cultivated his or her speech might be. But you do not belong to our -part.’ - -‘Have you sisters living?’ - -‘None. I am now the only child. Mother has been a widow six years. But -our talk is again melancholy.’ - -‘No, it is not melancholy--indeed not. It interests me. I have longed -to meet someone like you. I do not feel lonely with you,’ and as I took -her hand the tears stood in my eyes. - -She feigned not to observe that I was crying. ‘Is not this a fine -cabin?’ she exclaimed cheerfully, gazing about her; ‘it is the biggest -in the whole row. It is better off for furniture, too, than the others. -What a fine large window that is, and how glad I shall be when I am -able to keep it open and feel the sweet tropic wind pouring in! I -am longing to get on deck, but the doctor is afraid of my catching -a chill, and he tells me I must wait until we arrive at a certain -latitude. I hope you will often come and sit with me. I will read to -you--it does not fatigue me to read aloud, a little at a time.’ - -‘Indeed, I will often sit with you,’ said I. - -‘Where is your cabin?’ I told her. ‘I hope it is comfortable. But I am -sure Captain Ladmore would wish you to be comfortable. He seems a most -kind-hearted man, and he has his grief too. What could be sadder than -for a sailor, after an absence of many months, to return to his home -full of love and expectation, and find his dear ones, his wife and his -only child, dead? I felt truly grateful to him when I heard that he did -not mean to send you home until you had your memory.’ - -‘And I, too, am grateful,’ I exclaimed. ‘I am without money, and in a -strange place I should be like one that is blind; and when I arrived, -to whom should I turn? What should I be able to do? If I knew, oh, if I -but _knew_ that my home was in England!’ - -The door was quietly opened, and a middle-aged lady entered. She was -fresh from the deck, and wore a bonnet and cloak. She was a little -woman with soft grey hair, and with some look of her daughter in her. -Her gown was of silk, and her jewellery old-fashioned. She did not wait -for her daughter to introduce me, but at once approached with her hand -advanced, saying she knew who I was; and with slow deliberate speech -and soft voice she asked me a number of questions too commonplace to -repeat, though they were full of feeling and of good-nature. - -‘Is your head badly hurt?’ she asked, gazing with an expression of -maternal anxiety at the bandage. - -‘I do not think so,’ said I. ‘I have not yet seen the injury. I hope I -am not greatly disfigured.’ - -‘I do not think that you are disfigured,’ said Miss Lee. ‘The doctor -says it is your eyebrow that was hurt.’ - -‘I believe the upper part of my nose is injured,’ I said. - -‘How was it that you were hurt?’ asked Mrs. Lee, seating herself, and -viewing me with a face of tender commiseration. - -I answered that I supposed the boat’s mast fell upon me when I was -unconscious. - -‘Might not such a blow account for your losing your memory?’ said she, -speaking in a soft, slow voice delightful to listen to. - -‘I fear it matters not what took my memory away,’ said I, with a -melancholy smile; ‘it is gone.’ - -‘It will return,’ said Miss Lee. - -‘Do you remember nothing that happened before you were found in the -open boat?’ asked Mrs. Lee. - -‘Nothing,’ I returned. - -She looked at her daughter, and tossed her hands. - -‘I hope we shall be much together,’ said Miss Lee. ‘Mother, we must -endeavour to recover Miss C----‘s memory for her. You must be patient,’ -said she, smiling at me. ‘You will have to bear with me, I shall scheme -and scheme for you, and every scheme I can think of we must try.’ - -‘It will be an occupation for you, Alice, and a beautiful one,’ said -her mother, and she suddenly caught her breath, as though to prevent a -sigh from escaping her. - -‘But,’ continued Miss Lee, ‘I shall not be satisfied with Miss C---- as -a name. It will do very well for you to be known by in the ship, but -it is stiff, and I shall not be able to call you by it. There are so -many names of girls beginning with A. Let me see. There is my own name, -Alice; then there is Agatha, and then there is Agnes----’ - -I met Mrs. Lee’s eyes fixed upon me. ‘Do you seem to recollect any of -these names?’ she asked. ‘I hoped, by the expression on your face----’ -She hesitated, and I answered:-- - -‘The names are familiar sounds, but I cannot say that any one of them -is mine.’ - -‘We must invent something better than Miss C----,’ said her daughter. - -‘There is plenty of time, my love,’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee. ‘The captain -is going to keep you on board,’ she continued, addressing me in her -soft, slow-spoken accents, ‘until your memory returns. It may return -when we have arrived at a part of the ocean where it will be the same -whether Captain Ladmore keeps you with him or sends you home by another -ship. For instance, if your memory were to return when we were within -a week’s sail of Sydney, it would be better for you to remain in this -ship, where you will have friends, than to return in a strange vessel, -though you might save a few weeks by doing so. In that case we shall -be together, for Alice and I are going round the world in the _Deal -Castle_. Were you ever in Australia?’ - -‘Oh, mother! that is an idle question,’ exclaimed Miss Lee. - -‘Yes, I forgot,’ cried Mrs. Lee, with a look of pain. ‘Oh, memory, -memory, how little do we value it when we possess it! How all -conversation is dependent upon it! I have somewhere read that it is -sweeter than hope, because hope is uncertain and in the future, but our -memories are our own, many of them are dear, and they cannot be taken -from us. But it is not so,’ said she, looking at me. - -‘Hope is better than memory,’ said Miss Lee. ‘It is yours, and you must -suffer nothing to weaken it in you or to take it from you.’ - -The mother and daughter then conversed together about me, and asked -me many questions, and listened with breathless interest and with -touching sympathy to the account I gave them of my having been locked -up all night in the cabin of the French brig. And I also told them how -generously and kindly the young Frenchman, Alphonse, had behaved, how -tender had been his care of me, and how he had been hurried away from -the attempt to preserve my life by his uncle’s threats to leave him -behind in the sinking vessel. - -‘I am astonished,’ said Mrs. Lee, ‘that you should be able to remember -all these circumstances, whilst you cannot recollect anything that -happened before.’ - -‘But does not that mean that there will be something for me to work -upon?’ said Miss Lee. - -Her mother arose and, coming to my side, gently laid her hand upon my -arm, and, looking into my face, said, ‘Alice and I know that there must -be many things which you stand in need of. It could not be otherwise. -Were you a princess it would be the same. You and my daughter are about -of the same figure; you, perhaps, are a little stouter.’ She again -caught her breath to arrest a sigh. ‘For so long a voyage as this we -naturally brought a great deal of luggage with us, and I wish you to -allow us to lend you anything that you may require.’ I thanked her. -‘Most of our luggage is in the hold,’ she continued. ‘I will ask Mrs. -Richards to get some of our boxes brought on deck, and Alice shall -select what she thinks you want. There is nothing of mine, I fear, that -would be of any use,’ and she looked down her figure with a smile. - -‘But we must let others have the pleasure of helping, too, mother,’ -said Miss Lee. ‘Mrs. Richards says there are several ladies who desire -to be of use.’ - -‘They shall lend what they like,’ said Mrs. Lee. - -‘I am tiring you, Miss Lee,’ said I, rising. ‘I have made a long visit.’ - -‘Have you been on deck?’ said Mrs. Lee. - -I answered that I had not yet been on deck. - -‘Will you come with me for a little turn,’ she exclaimed. ‘I will -introduce you to some of the passengers. I know most of them now.’ - -‘I will accompany you with pleasure,’ said I, then faltered, and felt -some colour in my cheeks as I glanced at a looking-glass opposite. - -‘You are welcome to my hat and jacket,’ said Miss Lee; ‘will you wear -them?’ she added, with a sweet look of eagerness. - -I took off the cap, and put on the hat, and then the jacket; but the -jacket did not fit me--it was too tight, and it would not button. - -‘Here is a warm shawl,’ said Mrs. Lee. - -‘Does not Miss C---- remind you of Edith?’ exclaimed the daughter. - -Mrs. Lee looked hard at me, and, opening the door, passed out. - -‘You will come and see me again soon?’ said Miss Lee. - -‘I will come,’ I answered, ‘as often as you care to send for me.’ - -When we had walked a few paces down the saloon towards the aftermost -stairs Mrs. Lee stopped, and, putting her hand on my arm, exclaimed, -‘Oh, my poor child!’ I imagined for the moment that the exclamation -referred to me. She continued: ‘She is the only one that is left to me -now. My heart breaks when I look at her. I try to be composed, and talk -lightly on indifferent matters, but the effort is often more than I -can bear. Do you think she looks very ill?’ - -‘She looks ill,’ I answered, ‘but not very ill.’ - -‘I ought to have taken her a voyage some time ago--they tell me so, at -least. I have wintered at Madeira with her, and we spent last winter -in the south of France. But they say that a voyage is worth all those -resorts and refuges put together. Is she not sweet? She suffers so -patiently, too.’ - -I longed to say something soothing, to utter some hope, but my mind -gave me no ideas. Mrs. Lee looked at me whilst I stood at her side -with my head hung, fruitlessly striving with my mind that I might say -something to console her. ‘I am keeping you standing,’ cried she, and -without further words we went on deck. - -It was a little before the hour of noon. The sea was a wide field -of throbbing blue, laced with foam, every little billow curling -along the course the ship was pursuing, and on high was a wide and -sparkling heaven of azure, along which many small clouds, like puffs -from musketry, were sailing. Warmth but no heat was in the sunshine. -The great ship was travelling along almost upright. She regularly and -lightly curtseyed, but did not roll. Her sails shone like satin, and -on one side they hung far over the water, hollowing low down to a long -pole or boom, and the reflection of them in the water under this boom -was as though there was a silver cloud in the sea sweeping along with -us. - -There were no awnings; the sun was not yet hot enough for them. The -white planks of the decks sparkled freshly like dry sand, and the -shadows of the rigging ruled them with streaks of violet as though -drawn by the hand. At the wheel stood a sailor in white trousers and a -straw hat; he munched upon a piece of tobacco, and his little reddish -eyes were sometimes directed at the compass and sometimes up at the -sails, and never at anything else, as though there was nothing more -to be seen. Not far from him, at the rail that protected the side, -stood the fine tall figure of Captain Ladmore; he held a bright brass -sextant, which he occasionally lifted to his eye. Some paces away from -him was the short, square, solid form of Mr. Harris, the first officer, -and he too held a sextant, though it was not so bright and polished -as the captain’s. The raised deck on which I found myself--termed by -sailors the poop, and to be henceforth so called by me--seemed to be -covered with moving figures, though, after gazing awhile, I observed -that they were not so numerous as they at first appeared. They were -ladies and gentlemen and a few children; there was much noise of -talking, a frequent gay laugh, a constant fluttering of female raiment. - -I stood stock-still at the side of Mrs. Lee, staring about me, and for -some moments no one seemed to observe us. At any time in my life such -a spectacle would have been in the highest degree novel and of the -deepest interest. Now it affected me as it would a child. It induced a -simple emotion of wonder and delight--the sort of wonder and delight -that makes young people clap their hands. Beyond the poop was a deck -which I could not see; but in the bows of the ship was a raised deck, -called the forecastle, and it was crowded with the emigrant folks -sunning themselves, the men lounging, squatting, and smoking, the -women, in queer bonnets or bright handkerchiefs tied round their heads, -eagerly talking. I looked up at the sails and around at the sea, and at -the scene on deck, brightly coloured by the clothes of the ladies. - -‘How wonderful! How beautiful!’ I exclaimed. - -‘Is she not a noble ship?’ said Mrs. Lee. - -The captain turned his head and saw us. He crossed the deck, and asked -me in his grave, kindly way how I did. I am glad you have come on -deck,’ said he. ‘The mind will grow strong as the body grows strong; -but the sun is nearly at his meridian, and I must keep an eye upon -him,’ and he stepped back to take his place at the rail. - -I caught Mr. Harris, the first officer, inspecting me furtively. When -our gaze met he pulled off his cap, and then, with a manner of abrupt -energy, reapplied himself to pointing his sextant at the sea. - -‘You have made the acquaintance of Mr. Harris, the chief officer?’ said -Mrs. Lee. - -‘I met him on deck here at one o’clock this morning,’ I answered. ‘We -held a short conversation, and he is of opinion that a violent shock, -such as my falling overboard, would restore my memory.’ - -‘Sailors are a singular people,’ said Mrs. Lee. ‘They love to give -opinions on anything which does not concern their profession, yet -outside their profession they know little--often nothing. Many -sea-captains used to visit our house in my poor husband’s lifetime, -and out of their talk I might have collected quite a bookful of absurd -ideas and laughable superstitions.’ - -But now my presence on deck had been observed, and in a few moments a -number of the passengers gathered about me. I cannot recollect what was -said. I was confused by many eyes being bent upon me. One hoped that -I was quite recovered, another congratulated me upon my preservation, -a third marvelled that I had not died of fright in the cabin of the -French brig. Many such things were said, and I had to shake hands -with several of the friendly people. There were twenty-five or thirty -passengers, and, though a few held aloof, the crowd about me seemed a -large one. - -A stout, handsomely-dressed, middle-aged woman in a large hat -exclaimed, ‘Mrs. Lee, I hope the poor lady understands that whatever I -can lend her she may command.’ - -A tall gentleman with long whiskers and a white wide-awake and an -eyeglass, said, ‘My wife is below in her cabin. It is her wish to be -of use to the lady. I contend that every living person on board this -ship is responsible for her present situation. That is to say, morally -responsible. My wife clearly recognises that, and is therefore anxious -to be of use.’ - -The captain uttered an exclamation, Mr. Harris raised his voice in a -cry, and immediately eight chimes, signifying the hour of noon, were -struck upon a silver-toned bell in some part of the ship forward. -The captain and first officer left the deck. In twos and threes the -passengers fell away, leaving me to Mrs. Lee. She asked me to give her -my arm, and we quietly paced a part of the deck that was unoccupied. - -But though the passengers had drawn off, they continued to observe -me. My appearance doubtless struck them as remarkable. My figure was -that of a fine young woman of five-and-twenty, and my face, with its -bandaged brow, its thin white hair, its fine network of wrinkles--not, -indeed, so minutely defined as the delicate lines had shown when I -first observed them on the brig, but clear enough to make a sort of -mask of my countenance when closely looked into--my face, I say, might -have passed for a person’s of any age from forty to sixty. There were -two tall handsome girls who incessantly watched me as I walked with -Mrs. Lee. - -‘I hope,’ said I, ‘the people will not continue to stare. It makes me -feel nervous to be looked at, and it must come to my waiting until it -is dark to take the air on deck.’ - -‘No rudeness is meant,’ said Mrs. Lee. ‘You are the heroine of the -hour, and are paying the penalty of being famous. Fame is short-lived, -and you will not long be looked at.’ - -‘Who is that little man near the boat there, with fur upon his coat? He -is unable to remove his eyes from me.’ - -‘He is Sir Frederick Thompson,’ replied Mrs. Lee in her soft, -deliberate voice. ‘Do not look at him. I have heard who he is, and will -tell you. He is a City knight. I believe he deals in provisions. I -heard him tell Captain Ladmore that after being the most prosperous man -in the City of London for years everything suddenly went wrong. People -who owed him money became bankrupt, a confidential clerk absconded, -the price of the commodities he dealt in fell, and his goods being -chiefly perishable, he had to sell them at a heavy loss. He thereupon -made up his mind to go a voyage, hoping to find that things had righted -themselves by the time that he returned. A rather rash resolution, I -think.’ - -‘And who are those two gentlemen who seem to be arguing near the -rigging at the end of the deck on the other side?’ - -‘The gentleman with the yellow beard and the ill-fitting clothes is -Mr. Wedmold; and the shorter man, whose stiff stickup collars will not -enable him to turn his head, is Mr. Clack. I do not know what their -callings are, I am sure. They are constantly arguing, and always on the -same subject. Whenever they get together they argue on literature. I -hope they will keep to literature, and not break out into religion. -They argue across the table at meal-times. It matters not to them who -listens.’ - -I glanced at the brace of gentlemen with languid interest, and then -directing my eyes at the sea, said, ‘Whilst my memory sleeps, Mrs. Lee, -my life must be like that circle. Wherever I look I see the same thing.’ - -‘I do not in the least despair of you,’ she answered. ‘I was talking to -Mr. McEwan yesterday on the subject of memory, and we agreed that total -loss was almost always associated with insanity. Now, Miss C----, you -are not one bit mad. You can reason perfectly well, you converse with -excellent good sense. Less than half what you have undergone--though we -can only imagine the character of it--less than half, I say--nay, the -mere being locked up all night in the cabin of a ship that one believed -to be sinking would suffice to drive ninety-nine persons out of every -hundred hopelessly mad for life. You have escaped with the loss of -your memory. That is to say, with a partial loss. But the memory is a -single faculty, and if one portion of it be active and healthy, as it -is in your case, I cannot believe that the remainder of it is dead; -therefore I do not at all despair of you.’ - -I listened with impassioned attention to her gently-spoken, slowly -and deliberately pronounced, words. At that moment a lady came out -of the saloon through the hinder opening in the deck called the -‘companion-way.’ She was a lady of about forty years of age, and she -wore a handsome hat, around which were curled some ostrich feathers. -Her hair was of the colour of flax, her eyes a pale blue, and her face -fat and pale. She gave a theatrical start on seeing me, and then with a -wide smile approached us. - -‘Oh! Mrs. Lee,’ she exclaimed, ‘your companion, I am sure, is the -shipwrecked lady. I have been dying to see her. May I address her?’ - -‘Let me introduce Mrs. Webber,’ said Mrs. Lee. ‘Mrs. Webber is good -enough to take a great interest in you, Miss C----. She wishes to share -in the pleasure of being useful to you.’ - -‘Yes, if you please,’ cried Mrs. Webber. ‘Do not let me keep you -standing. There are trunksful of things belonging to me somewhere in -the ship, and if you will make out a list of your wants my maid shall -see that they are supplied. And you are to be called Miss C----? -How truly romantic! Mrs. Lee, I would give anything to be known by -an initial only. What could be more delightfully mysterious than to -go through life as an initial? Oh, I shall want to ask you so many -questions, Miss C----.’ - -‘Mrs. Webber is a poetess,’ said Mrs. Lee. ‘My daughter is very much -pleased with your poem, “The Lonely Heart,” Mrs. Webber. It is truly -affecting.’ - -‘I was certain she would like it,’ answered Mrs. Webber; ‘yet it is -not so good as the “Lonely Soul.” The first I wrote with a pen dipped -in simple tears, the other with a pen dipped in tears of blood. What a -delightful subject Miss C---- would make for a poem--not a short poem, -but a volume.’ - -‘There may be some sorrows which lie too deep for poetry,’ said Mrs. -Lee. - -‘Too deep!’ cried Mrs. Webber. - -‘Yes, in the sense that there are thoughts which lie too deep for -tears,’ said Mrs. Lee. - -‘That line by Longfellow I never could understand,’ said Mrs. Webber. - -‘It is by Wordsworth,’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee. - -‘Too deep!’ cried Mrs. Webber again; ‘why, I should have imagined that -nothing could be too deep or too high for poetry. Take Browning; -doesn’t he go deep? Take Shelley; didn’t he go high? Over and over -again they disappear, and what’s a surer sign of a great poet than -to sink or soar out of sight? Any simple fellow can make himself -understood. The sublime in writing is quite another affair. Don’t you -agree with me, Miss C----?’ - -‘I am sorry I am not able to understand you,’ I answered. - -I observed Mrs. Lee give Mrs. Webber a look. The latter cried, ‘Oh -yes, I now remember. And yet, do you know, as I was telling my husband -not an hour ago, I cannot see that it is very dreadful to be without -memory. I mean to say, that it cannot be very dreadful to forget one’s -past. To be able to recollect enough to go on with is really all one -wants. The condition of a mind that cannot look back, but that can -look forward, must surely be romantically delightful; because forward -everything is fresh; all the flowers are springing, there are no -graves; but behind--for my part, I hate looking back.’ - -Mrs. Lee muttered low for my ear only: ‘This lady is no poetess.’ - -‘You will by and by let me ask you many questions I hope, Miss C----,’ -exclaimed Mrs. Webber; ‘I should love to exactly realise your state of -mind. Of course I am highly imaginative, but to me there is something -very beautiful in your situation. You remember nothing save what has -happened to you upon the sea, and therefore you may most truly be -considered a genuine daughter of old ocean, as much so as if you had -risen out of the foam like some ancient goddess whose name I forget. I -shall, perhaps, call my poem about you “The Bride of the Deep.” I might -imagine that old ocean having fallen in love with you had erased your -memory of the land, that you shall know him only and be wholly his. -What do you think of that idea, Mrs. Lee?’ and she turned her light -blue eyes with a sparkle in them upon my companion. - -‘I think our friend’s sorrow is of too solemn a character to make a -book of,’ answered Mrs. Lee. - -This answer seemed to slightly abash Mrs. Webber, who, after gazing -around her a little while in silence, suddenly exclaimed: ‘There are -those two wretched men, Mr. Wedmold and Mr. Clack, at it again. They -stood yesterday afternoon outside my cabin where I was endeavouring -to get some sleep, having passed a wretched night, and for a whole -hour they argued upon Dickens and Thackeray--which was the greater -author--which was the greater novelist. I coughed and coughed but they -took no notice. I shall certainly ask Mr. Webber to speak to them if -they argue outside my cabin door again. They not only lose their -temper, their arguments are childish. Besides, how sickening is this -subject of the relative merits of Dickens and Thackeray! Really, to -hear people talk now-a-days, one would suppose that the only writers -whose names occur in English literature are Dickens and Thackeray. But -the truth is, Mrs. Lee, though books are very plentiful in this age, -people read little. But they read Dickens and Thackeray, and having -mastered these two names they consider themselves qualified to talk -about literature. I am truly sick of the subject; and to have to listen -for a whole hour when I am trying to get some sleep! I shall certainly -ask Mr. Webber to speak to those two men.’ - -She then declared her intention of enjoying many a long chat with -me, repeating that she had an extraordinary imagination, with which, -should my memory continue lifeless, she would undertake to construct -a past that would answer every purpose of conversation, reference, and -so forth. ‘Indeed,’ she exclaimed, ‘I believe with a little thinking, -I should be able to create a past for you so close to the truth as, -figuratively speaking, to light you to the very door of your home.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -I AM SUPPLIED WITH CLOTHES - - -‘I did not think,’ said Mrs. Lee, when we were alone, ‘that Mrs. Webber -had so good an opinion of herself. But she is well meaning, and she -will be useful to you.’ - -‘Do you think her imagination will help me?’ said I. - -‘Until your memory returns,’ she answered; ‘what could she tell you -that you would be able to say yes or no to? But let her question you. -On a dark morning, without a compass, one can never tell in what -quarter the day will break.’ - -At this moment Captain Ladmore arrived on deck, and he immediately -joined us. - -‘I hope, madam,’ said he, addressing me, ‘to have the pleasure of -seeing you at the saloon table to-day.’ - -‘You are extremely good,’ I answered, ‘but I do not yet feel equal to -sitting at the saloon table. The privacy of my cabin and the society of -Mrs. and Miss Lee, whenever they will endure me, are all that I wish. -Besides, I cannot forget----’ I faltered and was silent. - -‘What cannot you forget?’ said he gravely. - -‘I am not a passenger,’ said I, looking down. - -‘What is in your mind when you pronounce the word passenger?’ he asked. - -‘A passenger is one who pays,’ I answered. - -‘How do you know that?’ said he. - -‘I know it,’ said I, after thinking a little; ‘because Miss Lee told me -that her mother had hired the cabin for the round voyage.’ - -‘Ha!’ he exclaimed, exchanging a look with Mrs. Lee. ‘Well?’ he -continued, slightly smiling, ‘you will consider yourself a passenger -who does not pay. You are the guest of the ship. Some ships are -hospitable and liberal hostesses, and the owners of the _Deal Castle_ -would wish her to be one of them. Do, pray, be perfectly easy on that -score.’ - -I bowed my head, murmuring a ‘Thank you.’ - -‘There is one consoling part to be borne in mind,’ said he, addressing -Mrs. Lee; ‘one fact that should tend to console and soothe this lady: -it is this--she is single. She might have been a married woman driven -by disaster from her husband, and, worse still, from her children. -But put it that she has parents--it may not be so, who can tell that -her parents are living? But to be sundered from a mother and a father -to whom, in the course of time, one is certain to return, is not like -being torn from one’s children. This is a consideration to console -you, Miss C----.’ - -‘Do not cry,’ said Mrs. Lee, taking my arm. ‘I fully agree with the -captain. Only think how it would be if, instead of being single, you -were a mother cruelly and strangely taken away from your children.’ - -At this point, Sir Frederick Thompson, who had been intently surveying -us from the other side of the deck, approached. He bowed, and lifted a -little white wideawake. - -‘I beg pardon for intruding,’ said he, ‘but I should like to ask this -lady a question.’ - -‘If it refers to anything that is past, Sir Frederick,’ exclaimed -Captain Ladmore, ‘I fear she will not be able to satisfy your -curiosity.’ - -‘There’s no curiosity,’ said Sir Frederick; ‘it’s merely this: when I -was sheriff, Lady Thompson and me, for my poor wife was then living, -were invited to the ’ouse of Lord ----,’ and he named a certain -nobleman; ‘and I remember that at supper I sat next to his lordship’s -sister-in-law, Lady Loocy Calthorpe, whose father was the third Earl -----,’ and here he pronounced the name of another nobleman. ‘What I -wanted to say is that this lady is the very himage of Lady Loocy, -excepting that Lady Loocy ’adn’t white ’air. Now, mam,’ said he, -addressing me; ‘of course you’re not Lady Loocy; but you might be a -relative, for Lady Loocy had several sisters and a great number of -cousins.’ - -‘I do not know who I am,’ I answered. - -‘How long ago is it since you sat beside Lady Lucy Calthorpe at supper, -Sir Frederick?’ asked the captain. - -‘Why, getting on for two years and an ’arf.’ - -‘And you remember her distinctly enough to enable you to find a -likeness to her in this lady?’ - -‘God bless you, captain, yes. If it wasn’t for the white ’air, I should -say that this lady was Lady Loocy herself.’ - -‘Is Calthorpe the family name of the Earl of ----?’ said Mrs. Lee. - -‘Certainly, it is,’ answered Sir Frederick; ‘you’ll find it in the -Peerage.’ - -‘The lady’s initials are A. C.,’ said the captain. - -Sir Frederick struck the palm of his hand with his clenched fist, and -his little eyes shone triumphantly as he said: ‘I’d like to make a -bet, captain, that you’ve had the honour of preserving the life of a -Calthorpe. Such a likeness as I see is only to be found in families.’ - -‘The accident of the lady being on board the French brig is accounted -for,’ said the captain, eyeing me thoughtfully and earnestly; ‘she was -rescued out of an open boat. But where did that boat come from?’ - -‘Would not Miss C----’s handkerchief, the handkerchief you spoke of, -Captain Ladmore, that has her initials, would it not be marked with -something more than plain initials if she had rank?’ said Mrs. Lee. - -‘I cannot tell,’ answered Captain Ladmore. ‘What should a simple sea -captain know of such things?’ - -‘The haristocracy,’ said Sir Frederick, ‘mark their linen all ways. I’m -hable to speak with authority. At a Mansion ’Ouse ball a friend picked -up an ’andkerchief, a beautiful lace ’andkerchief, and brought it to my -poor wife. The word “Fanny” was worked in the corner and that was my -wife’s name, and he thought the ’andkerchief was ’ers. But it didn’t -belong to ’er at all. It was the property of Lady ---- whose ’usband -’ad been raised to the peerage in the preceding year. There was no -coronet on that ’andkerchief.’ - -Observing that I was expected to speak, I exclaimed: ‘The names Sir -Frederick mentions suggest nothing to me.’ - -‘Well, all that I can say is,’ exclaimed Sir Frederick, ‘that the -likeness is absolutely startling.’ - -He again lifted his little white wideawake, and, crossing the deck, -joined a group of passengers with whom he entered into conversation. - -‘There is nothing for it but to wait,’ said Captain Ladmore. - -‘If your name were Calthorpe,’ said Mrs. Lee, ‘surely the utterance of -it would excite some sensations, however weak, in your mind.’ - -‘One should say so,’ remarked the captain. - -‘I fear,’ said I, with much agitation, ‘that if I were to see my name -fully written I should not know it. And yet it is strange!’ - -‘What is strange?’ asked Mrs. Lee. - -‘You will not think me vain for repeating it. There can be no vanity -in a poor miserable outcast such as I. But I remember that one of -the people of the French brig, the young man Alphonse, who had been -a waiter, and who had attended upon a great many English people--I -remember him once saying he was persuaded that I was a woman of title, -or, if not a lady of title, that I belonged to the English aristocracy. -I cannot imagine why he should have thought so.’ - -‘Well,’ said the captain, smiling at Mrs. Lee, ‘it may be that we -have preserved the life of the daughter of an Earl, or better still -of a Duke. Anything higher we must not hope for. But enough for the -present, at all events, that Miss C---- should be a fellow-creature -in distress;’ and with a bow that seemed to have gained something in -respectfulness, but nothing in kindness, he walked away. - -The luncheon-bell rang, and we descended into the saloon. Mrs. Lee -begged me to join the company at table. ‘I will ask the steward,’ she -said, ‘to find you a place next to my daughter.’ But I entreated her to -excuse me. - -‘I do not like to show myself in company with this bandage on,’ I said, -‘and I feel weak and shy, and my talk I fear is often childish. I hope -to join you in a few days,’ and thus speaking I put her daughter’s hat -and the shawl she had lent me into her hands, and made my way to my -berth. - -When I entered my berth I sat down to rest myself and reflect. I felt -weary. The fresh air had rendered me somewhat languid, and I had -overtaxed my strength with the several conversations I had held with -one and another on the poop. I said to myself, can it be that the -little man with the fur on his coat is right? Is my name Calthorpe, and -am I a lady of title, and is my home actually in England? And then I -hunted in my mind for an idea to help me, but I found none. I groped, -as it were, with my inner vision over the thick black curtain that -had descended upon my past; but nothing, no, not the most phantasmal -outline of recollection glimmered upon the sable folds of my mind. -The cries of my heart were unanswered. No echo was returned from the -dreadful silent midnight that hung upon my spirit. I looked upon my -naked hands; I drew forth my purse, and for the twentieth time gazed -at it, and at the money in it; I examined the pocket handkerchief and -mused upon the initials in the corner, and whilst I was thus occupied, -Mrs. Richards entered with my lunch. - -‘I was sure,’ said she, ‘you would wish to remain private for some -little time yet. I hope I have brought you what you like. This red wine -is Burgundy. Mr. McEwan bade me give it you; he says it is a very -feeding wine. And what do you think I have just heard?’ - -‘I cannot imagine,’ said I. - -‘Why, Mrs. Webber stopped me as I was passing through the saloon, -and said, “What do you think, Mrs. Richards? Sir Frederick Thompson -believes he has found out who Miss C---- is. And who do you think he -says she is?” “I do not know, madam,” said I. “A Calthorpe,” said she. -“What is a Calthorpe?” said I. “A Calthorpe,” she answered, “is a -member of one of the oldest families in England. The Earl of ---- is a -Calthorpe, and Sir Frederick finds an extraordinary likeness between -Miss C---- and Lady Lucy Calthorpe. He is quite satisfied that she -is not Lady Lucy herself, because her ladyship’s hair is brown, not -white, but he is willing to bet she is a Calthorpe.” “As for the hair -being white,” said I, “if Miss C---- is Lady Lucy Calthorpe, she has -undergone quite enough to change the colour of her hair. But how could -Sir Frederick,” said I, “be sure of her with a bandage on?” “Well, he -is sure,” said Mrs. Webber, “sure I mean that she is a Calthorpe,” and -this was all that passed; the passengers were arriving to take their -places, and I came away. What do you think?’ - -‘Do not ask me, Mrs. Richards. I am unable to think.’ - -‘Poor dear! Let me pour you out a glass of wine. It will be strange -if you should prove a lady of title. And why should you not be a lady -of title? You have the appearance of one. The moment I saw you I said -to myself--and I said it to myself before I heard your story--“Though -she has come out of a nasty little brig, I can see that she is a born -lady.” Do you know that you have left your cap behind you?’ - -‘It is in Mrs. Lee’s cabin,’ said I. - -‘Try and eat your lunch,’ exclaimed the stewardess, ‘and after lunch, -if I were you, I would lie down, and endeavour to get some sleep.’ - -I passed the afternoon alone. I lay in my bunk, unable to read, dozing -a little, and when I was not dozing strutting with recollection, and -often with fits of horror and despair dreadful as madness. Some time -near five the stewardess looked in to say that Mrs. Webber wished to -visit me. She was anxious to have a long quiet chat. Would I receive -her? I answered no. I should require, I said, to feel very much better -to be able to endure a long quiet chat with Mrs. Webber. - -‘She asked me to give you this book,’ said Mrs. Richards. ‘She said she -had marked the pages which she would like you to read.’ - -I took the book, and when Mrs. Richards was gone, languidly opened it, -and found that it was a collection of verses written by Eleanor Webber, -and dedicated ‘To my Husband.’ Two pages were dog’s-eared, and one of -them contained a poem called the ‘Lonely Heart,’ and the other a poem -called ‘The Lonely Soul.’ I tried to read these verses, but could not -understand them. They jingled unmeaningly, though not unmusically, in -a melancholy key. Why do they tease one with such stuff? I said to -myself, putting the book down. - -The wind had increased during the afternoon, and the ship was leaning -over with steep decks, which reminded me of the French brig. But how -different was her motion as she rose stately to the seas, every massive -heave of her satisfying and inspiring one with its suggestion of -victorious power! I felt that the ship was rushing through the water. -There was a peculiar tingling throughout her frame, as though she was -thrilled from end to end by the sting and hiss of the milk-white brine -which poured from either bow and raced in hills along her side, again -and again clouding my cabin-window with a leap of seething dazzle, the -blow and dissolving roar of which fell like a thunder-shock upon the -ear. - -But for my unwillingness to meet the passengers I should have gone on -deck. I felt a sort of madness upon me that afternoon. It came and -went, but when the feeling was upon me I craved for the open air, for -the sweep and trumpeting of the wind, for a sight of the great ship -hurling onwards, for a sight too of the warring waters; and at these -moments I said to myself, I will not go on deck now and meet the -passengers; I will wait until the darkness comes; I will wait until the -people are sleeping, and the silence of the slumber of many is upon -the ship, as it was last night, and then I will steal on deck and ease -the torments of my sightless mind by blending my thoughts with the dark -picture of ship and white-peaked seas and rushing black-winged sky; and -this I will do in some obscure corner of the ship, where I shall not be -seen. - -But when the inscrutable horror, the insupportable agitation which -drove me into this resolution of going on deck at midnight had passed, -I shivered and stealthily wept, for _then_ I seemed to see an awful -shadow, a menacing shape of darkness, crouching and skulking behind -my impulse--a spectre of self-murder, whose first step it would be to -impel me on deck in the darkness of the night, and whose next step -after I should have stood lonely for some time on deck would be to -tempt me to leap overboard into the ocean grave, where my memory lay! -Yes, there could be no doubt that I was a little mad, sometimes more -than a little mad at intervals during that afternoon, and one cause of -those fits of horror and despair, and of the desire to mingle my spirit -with the wild commotion outside, and to pass out of myself into the -starry freedom of the blowing ocean-night, lay in a sort of dumb, blind -anguish that racked me when the clouding of my cabin-window by the -passing foam carried my thoughts to the speeding of the ship through -the sea. Though I knew not from what or where, yet I seemed to feel -with God knows what muteness, and blindness and faintness of instinct, -that I was being borne away--that, wherever my home might be, from it -I was being swept. Feeling indeed was no more than seeming; I could be -sure of nothing; thought was absolutely indeterminate; nevertheless -there was a secret movement in my dark mind that goaded me, as though -the tooth of something venomous, unreachable, and unconjecturable was -subtly at work within me. - -But having fallen into a short doze, I awoke calm, and then I resolved -that I would not go on deck that night, for I feared, if I should be -visited whilst on deck, and in darkness, by such moods as had tormented -me throughout the afternoon, I should destroy myself. - -Some dinner was brought to me by a very civil under-steward, who stated -that Mrs. Richards was too busy to attend upon me, but that she would -be having occasion to call upon me later on. Being without the power of -contrasting, I was unable to understand how fortunate I was in having -fallen into the hands of such a man as Captain Frederick Ladmore. I did -not imagine that other captains would not use me equally well; indeed, -I never gave that view of the matter a thought. I ate and drank, and -accepted all the kindnesses which were done me as a child might, and -yet I was grateful, and the tears would stand in my eyes when I sat -alone and thought of what had been done for me; but my gratitude and my -appreciation were not those of a person whose faculties are whole. - -The under-steward had lighted the lamp, and when he fetched the tray I -got into my bunk and sat in it and asked myself all the questions which -occurred to me. I then arose and took the glass from the cabin wall, -and returning to my bunk fixed my eyes upon my reflection. It may be, -I thought to myself, that I do not know who I am, because ever since -I returned to consciousness my face has been obscured and deformed by -sticking-plaister and a bandage. If I remove the bandage I may know -myself. So I took the bandage off and looked. The lint dressing came -away with the bandage and exposed the injury, and I saw that my right -eyebrow was of a pale red, with a long dark scar going from the temple -to above the bridge of the nose. The hair on the brow was entirely -gone, and my face, having but one eyebrow, had a wild odd foreign look. -I also perceived that my nose, where it was indented betwixt the brow -and the bridge, was injured. It was necessary to view myself in profile -to gather the extent of this injury; and this I could not do, having -but one glass. - -Then I said to myself, it may be that I am disfigured beyond -recognition of my own eyes. In the case of my face it is not my memory -that is at fault. Calamity and horror of mind have ravaged my face, and -I do not know myself. If my face was now as it had been prior to the -disaster that has blinded my mind and rendered me the loneliest woman -in the world, the sight of it would give me back my memory. I continued -to gaze at my reflection in the mirror. I then readjusted the bandage, -hung up the glass, and resumed my seat in my bunk. - -I was sitting motionless, with my eyes rooted to the deck, when the -door was vigorously thumped and thrown open, and Mr. McEwan entered. -He stood awhile looking at me, swaying on wide-spread feet to the -movements of the ship, and then exclaimed: - -‘I thought as much. But it won’t do. Ye’ll have to come out of this.’ I -looked at him. ‘And you’ve been meddling with your bandage. Did not I -tell you to leave it alone? Oh, vanity, vanity! is not thy name woman? -Did ye want to see how much beauty you’ve lost? Come to the light that -I may see what you’ve been doing to yourself.’ He undid the bandage, -and said: ‘Well, it’s mending apace, it’s mending apace. Another day -of that wrap and you shall have my permission to appear as you are.’ - -He then with an air of roughness, but with a most tender hand, bound my -brow afresh. - -‘Now Miss C----,’ said he; ‘but am I to call ye Calthorpe? Half the -ninnies are swearing _that’s_ your name, on no better authority than -the dim recollection of a little old man who would swear to a ducal -likeness in a cook’s mate, if by so doing he could find an excuse to -air his acquaintance with the nobility--what I want to say is this: -I’m your medical adviser, and I desire to see ye with some memory -in your head that the captain may be able to send you home. But if -you intend to mope in this cabin, sitting in yon bed and glaring at -vacancy, as though the physical faculty of memory was a ghost capable -of shaping itself out of thin air and of rushing into your body with -a triumphant yell, then it’s my duty to tell you that, instead of your -memory revisiting its old haunt, the ghost or two of sense that still -stalks in your brain will make a bolt o’ t, leaving ye clean daft. Ye -understand me?’ - -‘I do not,’ said I. - -‘Do you understand me when I say you must get out of this cabin?’ - -‘Yes.’ - -‘Do you understand me when I say that you must mix with the passengers, -take your place at the saloon table, and humanise yourself into the -likeness of others by conversing, listening to the piano playing, -walking the deck and surveying the beauties of the ocean? Do you -understand that?’ - -‘Yes,’ said I. - -‘You look frightened. There is nothing to be afraid of. But you must do -what you’re told, or how are you to get home?’ - -‘I will do anything,’ I cried passionately, ‘that will give me back my -memory.’ - -‘Very well,’ said he, ‘to-morrow you shall begin. To-morrow you must -become a passenger and cease to be a stowaway. Why, only think of what -your mind may be meessing. The saloon dinner tables are stripped, -there are people amusing themselves at cards and chess, and there is a -young lady at the piano singing, like a nightingale. She is singing, a -beautiful Scotch song, and the singer herself is a beautiful woman, and -how am I to know that there may not be a magic leagues out of sight of -my poor skill to touch, to arouse, to give life, colour and perfume to -that delicate flower of memory which you believe lies dead in you?’ - -I started up. ‘I will go and listen to the singing.’ - -‘No, rest quiet here for this evening. Take your night’s rest. You -shall begin to-morrow. I’ll send Mrs. Richards to sit with ye. You -shan’t be alone. And now, d’ye know, Miss C----, for all your scared -looks you’re better than you were when I opened the door just now. -Good-night.’ - -He spoke abruptly, but he grasped my hand kindly and looked at me with -kindness and sympathy in the face. - -The moment I was alone I opened the door and put my head out, hoping to -hear the voice of the beautiful young woman, whoever she might be, who -was singing in the saloon, but either the song was ended or the music -was inaudible down in this part of the ship where my cabin was. Instead -of the tones of a beautiful young woman, rising and falling in a sweet -Scotch melody, I heard the grumbling accents of four men playing at -whist at a table at the forward end of the steerage. The movements of -the ship were indicated by the somewhat violent oscillations of the -lamp under which they sat, four bearded men holding cards. - -I was about to withdraw my head when I observed Mrs. Richards coming -along the steerage. She bore a large bundle in her arms under whose -weight she moved with difficulty, owing to the rolling of the ship; and -she came directly to my cabin. - -‘Here it is,’ she exclaimed, letting the bundle fall upon the deck. -‘How heavy good under-linen is! It’s the rubbish that’s light, though -it looks more, and that’s why it pays. Here, my dear, is quite an -outfit for you. You may take them as gifts or you may take them as -loans, that’s as your pride shall decide. There’s some,’ said she, -kneeling and opening the bundle, ‘from Mrs. Webber, and some from Mrs. -Lee, and likewise a dress from Miss Lee, which she hopes will fit, and -some from----;’ and she named three other ladies among the passengers. - -The collection was indeed an outfit in its way. There was no essential -article of female attire in which it was lacking. - -‘The ladies,’ said Mrs. Richards, ‘put their heads together, and one -said she’d give or lend this, and another said she’d give or lend that; -so here’ll be enough to last you to Sydney, ay, and even home again.’ - -The good little creature’s face was bright with pleasure and -satisfaction as she held up the articles one after another for me to -look at. - -‘How am I to thank the ladies for their kindness?’ said I. - -‘By wearing the things, my dear, and in no other way do they look for -thanks,’ she answered; and then she proposed that I should put on Miss -Lee’s dress to see if it fitted me. - -It was of the right length, but tight in the chest, though it fitted me -in the back. - -‘You shall shift the buttons,’ said Mrs. Richards, ‘and then it will -fit you. I’ll fetch my work-basket and you shall make the alteration -this very evening, for the doctor only a little while ago told me that -you are not to be allowed to mope in this cabin or you will go mad.’ - -She withdrew, and in a few minutes returned with her work-basket. She -placed a chair for me under the lamp, put the dress and the work-basket -on my knee, and preserving her cheerful smile bade me go to work. I -believe she suspected I should be at a loss, and at a loss I certainly -should have been had not the articles I required been set before me. -I could not have asked for scissors, needle, thread, thimble, and -the like; because I should not have been able to recollect the terms -nor the objects which the terms expressed. But when I saw the things -my recognition of them cost me no effort of mind. I took them up in -the order in which I required to use them, picking up the scissors -and cutting off a button, then threading a needle, then putting on a -thimble, and all this I did as readily as though my memory were as -perfect as it now is. Mrs. Richards watched me in silence. Presently -she said: - -‘There is no reason, my dear, why you should not belong to a noble -family, but I do not believe you are a lord’s daughter. You use your -needle too well to be the daughter of a lord.’ - -‘I do not dream that I am the daughter of a lord,’ said I. - -‘You might be the daughter of a gentleman whose brother is a lord, -and there may be reasons, which there is no accounting for until your -memory returns, why you should have been taught to use your needle. No -nobleman’s daughter would think of learning to sew. Why should she? -She might learn fancy work for her entertainment, but your handling -of the needle isn’t that of a fancy worker. I shouldn’t be surprised -if your father is a clergyman. There are many clergymen who belong to -noble families; and do you know, Miss C----, if you wore a wedding ring -I should be disposed to think that you had plenty of times mended and -made for little ones of your own. Why do I say this? Is it your manner -of sitting? your way of holding the dress? What puts it into my head? -I’m sure I can’t tell, but there it is.’ - -She came and went whilst I was busy with the buttons of the dress, and -when I had made an end I put the dress on and it fitted me. We then -between us packed away the linen and other articles in some drawers in -a corner of the cabin, and when this was done she left me and returned -with wine and biscuits and a glass of hot gin and water for herself, -and for an hour we sat talking. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -‘AGNES’ - - -It blew very hard in the night. It was a black, wet gale, as they call -it, but favourable, and throughout the thick and howling midnight -hours the ship continued to thunder along her course, with the sailors -chorusing at the ropes and running up the reeling heights to shorten -the canvas. Yet I knew nothing of all this until I was told next -morning how the weather had been. The sun was then shining, and a -large, swollen, freckled sea brimming to the ship’s side. - -I had slumbered deeply during the night, and awoke with a sense of -refreshment and of strength which lightened my spirits even to -cheerfulness. My spirits were easier because I felt better, and I -could not feel better without hoping that, as I gained strength, my -memory would return to me. I was greatly refreshed by putting on the -under-linen that had been lent to me. I also wore Miss Lee’s dress, -for it was my intention to mingle with the passengers this day. The -material was a fine dark-green cloth. The shifted buttons made the -bosom a little awry, but this was a trifling and scarce noticeable -defect, and wholly atoned for by the excellent fit of the dress. Oh, -it must be as they tell me, I thought to myself as I looked into the -square of mirror. My figure is that of a young woman. I cannot be so -old as my face seems to represent me. Who am I? Who am I? - -But I was rescued from one of my depressing, heart-subduing reveries by -the timely entrance of the stewardess with my breakfast. She brought a -message from Miss Lee. Would I visit her at eleven? I answered ‘Yes, I -would visit her with the greatest pleasure.’ - -‘And will you lunch in the saloon?’ said Mrs. Richards. - -‘Yes,’ I answered. - -‘That is right,’ said she, ‘and this breakfast shall be your last meal -in this gloomy little cabin.’ - -I did not care to immediately leave my berth after breakfast, so I -opened one of Mrs. Richards’ books and found I could read. The book -was ‘Jane Eyre,’ a novel that I had formerly delighted in, but now it -was all new to me and I read it as for the first time. I opened it by -chance and my eye rested upon a passage, and beginning to read I read -on. The part I had lighted on described Jane Eyre wandering lonely, -starving, soaked through, in the dark of a bitter moorland night after -she flees from the house of Mr. Rochester. I continued to read till the -tears blurred the page to my sight, and whilst I thus sat Mr. McEwan -entered. - -‘Well, any memory this morning?’ - -I shook my head and put away the book. He instantly saw that I had been -weeping, but took no notice. - -‘I believe it’s that bandage,’ said he, ‘which keeps you mumping and -dumping down in this darksome steerage. You think it is not becoming. -Well, now let us see if you can manage without it.’ - -He removed it, and backed away as though looking at a picture. ‘Your -nose is broken,’ said he. - -‘I feared so,’ I exclaimed. - -‘But it is broken,’ said he, ‘in such a way as to improve your looks. -Did you ever see a portrait of the famous Lady Castlemaine?’ I said no. -‘Congratulate yourself,’ said he. ‘Your nose is now exactly the shape -of the nose in the portrait of the celebrated Lady Castlemaine. The -scar looks a little angry, but you can do without the bandage. Pray, my -dear lady, don’t stare at the looking glass. When are you coming into -the saloon? Very well; we shall meet at the luncheon table,’ said he, -when I had answered him, and with an abrupt nod he left me. - -By daylight the scar did not look so formidable as it had by lamplight. -The eyebrow was a long smear of sulky red without hair, with a violet -streak running through it. The flesh of the eyebrow appeared to have -been torn off, and a new skin formed. I screwed my head on one side -to catch a view of my profile, but my former face was not in my -memory. My present face was the only face that I could recollect, and -I was therefore unable to perceive that the injury which had changed -the shape of my nose had in any way modified the expression of my -countenance. - -But I did not choose to exhibit my face with that sulky crimson scar -streaming like a red trail across my right brow, and not knowing what -to do I stepped to Mrs. Richards’ cabin, knocked, and found her busy -with some accounts. She started on seeing me, but quickly recollected -herself and exclaimed with a smile: ‘Now, indeed, you look as you -should.’ - -‘I am ashamed,’ said I, ‘to go amongst the passengers with this -unsightly forehead.’ - -‘It is not unsightly, my dear.’ - -‘How can I conceal it?’ - -She reflected, and then jumped up. ‘I believe I have the very thing you -want,’ said she, and after hunting in a box she produced a short white -veil. It was of gossamer, and it had a gloss of satin; she pinned it -round my cap, contriving that it should fall a little lower than the -eyes. - -‘Will that do?’ she exclaimed. - -‘It is the very thing,’ I cried with a child-like feeling of -exultation; and then, as it was nearly eleven o’clock, I walked to the -after steps and entered the saloon. - -The concealment of my face gave me confidence. People might stare at -me now, and welcome. There were a number of passengers lounging on -sofas and chairs in various parts of the saloon, held under shelter, no -doubt, by the weather, for though the sun was shining there was a brisk -breeze blowing which came cold with the white spray that it flashed off -the broken heads of the swelling running waters. The first person to -see me as I was passing to Miss Lee’s berth was Mrs. Webber. She sprang -with youthful activity from her chair and came to me, floating and -rolling over the slanting deck with her hands outstretched. - -‘I have quite made up my mind about you, Miss C----,’ she exclaimed. ‘I -have invented a history for you, and I shall never rest until you have -recovered your memory, and are able to tell me how far I am right or -wrong.’ - -‘Let me at once thank you for your great kindness, Mrs. Webber,’ said -I, returning the bows of the ladies and gentlemen who were now looking -towards me. - -‘Not a word of thanks, if you please. When are we to have a good long -talk together?--Oh, sooner than _some_ of these days! Did you receive -the volume of poems I gave to Mrs. Richards?’ - -I replied that I had received the book, and that I had read the poems -she had marked, and that I did not doubt I should find them very -beautiful when my mind had become stronger. We stood a few minutes -conversing, and I then went to Miss Lee’s cabin. - -The mother and daughter were together; the mother knitting, and the -daughter reading or seeming to read. The girl looked very pale. There -was a haggard air about the eyes as though she had not slept, but her -smile of greeting was one of inexpressible sweetness, and when I took -her hand she drew me to her and pressed her lips to my cheek. The -mother also received me with as much warmth and kindness as though we -had been old friends. - -I seated myself by the side of Miss Lee, and after the three of us had -conversed for awhile, Mrs. Lee said: - -‘Alice has made out a long list of names. You will be surprised by her -industry and imagination, for she has had no book of names to help -her,’ and opening a desk that lay upon the deck she extracted a number -of sheets of note paper filled with names--female Christian names and -surnames written in a delicate hand in pencil. - -I held the sheets of paper in my hand;--there was a faint odour of rose -upon them; I knew not what that odour was--I could not have given it a -name; yet it caused me to glance at Alice Lee with some dim fancy in my -mind of an autumn garden and of an atmosphere perfumed by the breath -of dying flowers. Was this dim fancy a memory? It came and went with -subtle swiftness, but it left me motionless with my eyes fixed upon the -sheets of paper in my hand. - -‘We will go through those names together,’ said Alice Lee, ‘and until -your memory enables you to fix upon your real name I have chosen one -for you. If you do not like it tell me, and we will choose another. -Miss C---- is hard and unmeaning--I cannot call you Miss C----.’ - -‘What name have you chosen?’ I asked. - -‘For your Christian name,’ she answered, ‘I have chosen Agnes. It is a -pretty name.’ - -‘It is Alice’s favourite name,’ said Mrs. Lee. - -I repeated the word Agnes, but no name, not the strangest that was to -have been suggested, could have been more barren to my imagination. - -‘If Sir Frederick Thompson is to be believed,’ said Mrs. Lee, ‘you -undoubtedly belong to the Calthorpe family, whoever they may be, for I -am sorry to say I never before heard of them.’ - -‘Does he continue to say that I am a Calthorpe?’ said I. - -‘Yes,’ she answered; ‘he offers to wager any sum of money that you will -prove to be a Calthorpe.’ - -‘I am sure he is mistaken,’ said Miss Lee. ‘How would it be possible -for him to recognise a likeness in you when your face was almost -concealed by a bandage? And besides, is it not certain that the -terrible sufferings you have undergone have greatly changed the -character of your face? You may resemble the Calthorpe family now, but -you could not have resembled them before your sufferings altered you, -and therefore Sir Frederick Thompson must be mistaken.’ - -‘That is cleverly reasoned, my love,’ said her mother, looking at -her fondly and wistfully; ‘nobody appears to have taken that view. -Everybody except Mrs. Webber seems inclined to think Sir Frederick -right. She, good soul, will not allow him to be right because she has a -theory of her own.’ - -‘Perhaps now,’ said Miss Lee, ‘that your face is more concealed by your -veil than it was by your bandage Sir Frederick will discover a likeness -in you to somebody else.’ - -‘There is no good in speculating,’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee; ‘did not you -say, Miss C----, that you would not know your own name if you were to -see it written down?’ - -‘I fear I should not know it,’ I answered. - -‘We must call her Agnes, mother,’ said Miss Lee; ‘and, Agnes, you will -call me Alice.’ - -‘It is an easy name, and sweet to pronounce,’ said I, smiling. - -‘But if our friend’s name should not be Agnes, my love,’ said Mrs. -Lee. ‘Miss C----is more sensible, and C is certainly the initial of -her surname. But since it is your wish, my darling, and if you do -not object,’ she added, addressing me with a manner that made me -understand that she lived but for her daughter, and that her life was -an impassioned indulgence of the beautiful fading flower, ‘I will call -you Agnes.’ - -Her daughter’s face lighted up, but a violent fit of coughing obliged -her to conceal it in her handkerchief the next instant. Her mother -watched her with an expression of bitter pain, but she had smoothed -it before Alice could lift her eyes and see her. There was a brief -silence; the fit of coughing had taken away the girl’s breath, and she -held her hand to her side, breathing short, with a glassier brightness -in her eyes, and a tinge of hectic on her cheeks. - -‘I am sure it comforts you to conceal your face,’ said Mrs. Lee, -breaking the silence with an effort. ‘The concealment is certainly -effectual. I can scarcely distinguish your eyes through the gossamer.’ - -‘The scar is an unsightly one,’ I exclaimed, and I raised the veil that -they might see my forehead. - -‘It is not so bad as I had feared,’ said Miss Lee, leaning forward and -gazing with a face exquisitely touching and beautiful, with the pure, -unaffected heart-sympathy in it. Mrs. Lee gazed in silence, with a look -of consternation which she could not immediately hide. - -‘It was a terrible wound,’ she murmured; ‘who can doubt that the blow -which produced that dreadful wound bereft you of your memory?’ - -‘Mother, you frighten poor Agnes. The scar is not so very dreadful, -dear; indeed it is not. When the eyebrow grows the marks will not be -seen.’ - -‘My nose is broken,’ I said, putting my finger above the bridge of it. - -‘I should not know that,’ said Mrs. Lee, taking her cue of cheerful -sympathy from her daughter. ‘I assure you, whether it be broken or not, -there is no disfigurement.’ - -I let fall the veil. Alice Lee kept her eyes fastened upon me. What was -passing in her mind who can tell, but her face was that of an angel, -so spiritually beautiful with emotion that to my sight and fancy it -seemed actually glorified, as though her living lineaments were a mere -jugglery of the vision clothing an angelic spirit in flesh for a -passing moment that the physical sight might behold it. - -This cabin occupied by the Lees was so comfortable, fresh, and bright, -that I never could have supposed the like of such a bedroom was to -be found at sea. The sleeping shelves were curtained with dimity, -which travelled upon brass rods. The beds were draped as on shore. -There were chests of drawers, some shelves filled with books, a few -framed photographs suspended against the cabin wall by loops of blue -ribbon. As the vessel rolled the white water that was racing past rose, -gleaming and boiling, and the flash of it flung a lightning-like dazzle -into the sunshine that was pouring upon the large cabin porthole and -filling the berth with the splendour of the wide, windy, foaming, ocean -morning. - -When I had let fall my veil I sat silent, with the eyes of Alice Lee -tenderly dwelling upon me. Mrs. Lee pulled out her watch and said, -‘It is half-past twelve. Luncheon is served at one. You will take your -place at the table, I hope, Agnes?’ she added, pronouncing the word -with an air of embarrassment and a smile at her daughter. - -‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘I intend to take my meals henceforth in the saloon.’ - -Mrs. Lee looked at Alice, who immediately said, ‘I will lunch at table -to-day.’ - -‘But do you feel strong enough to do so?’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee anxiously. - -‘I can withdraw when I feel tired,’ said the girl; ‘it is not far to -walk, mother; but Agnes, sister Agnes, must sit next to me.’ - -‘I will speak to the steward,’ said Mrs. Lee, and, throwing a shawl -over her shoulders, she smiled at me and quitted the berth. - -‘We will go over the names I have written down this afternoon,’ said -Alice. ‘It may be that you will not know your own name if you see it! -But, supposing you should see it and remember it! There are many things -I shall think of to try. And, Agnes, we must not forget to ask God to -help us and to bless our efforts.’ - -‘God?’ I repeated, and I looked at her. - -A startled expression came and went in her eyes. ‘Lift up your veil, -dear,’ said she; ‘I wish to see your face.’ - -I raised the veil, and directed my gaze fully at her. - -‘Can it be,’ said she in a low, sweet voice, ‘that you have forgotten -the sacred name of God?’ - -‘No,’ I answered; ‘I have not forgotten the name of God. Tell me----’ I -paused. - -‘It is so! How strange!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yet God must live in the -memory too. It is hard to realise. Oh, Agnes, this brings your loss -home to me as nothing else could. Lonely indeed you must be if you do -not feel that you are being watched over, and that your Heavenly Father -is with you always.’ - -Her eyes sank, and she fell into a reverie; her lips moved, and she -faintly smiled. I continued to watch her, but within me there had -suddenly begun a dreadful conflict. I pronounced the word ‘God,’ but I -could not understand it, and the struggle of my spirit rapidly became -a horror, which, even as my companion sat with her eyes sunk, faintly -smiling and her lips moving, caused me to shriek aloud and bury my face -in my hands. - -In a moment I felt her arm round my neck; I felt the pressure of her -cheek to mine; and I heard her voice murmuring in my ear. - -‘It is my loneliness,’ I cried; ‘it is my heart-breaking loneliness! I -walk with blinded eyes in utter darkness. Oh, if I could but know all, -if I could but know all _now_, I would be content to die in the next -instant.’ - -She continued to fondle me with her arm round my neck, and to soothe me -with words which I understood only in part. Presently she removed her -arm, on which I arose and went to the porthole, and looked at the white -sea swelling into the sky as the ship rolled; then, turning, I saw that -Alice had resumed her seat and was wistfully watching me with a face of -grief. I went to her side, and, kneeling down, hid my face on her lap. - -‘You will teach me to feel that I am not alone,’ I exclaimed. ‘Speak to -me about God. Make me know Him and understand Him, that, if my memory -should never return to me, if my life should be the horrible blank it -now is, I may not be alone.’ - -I felt her fingers toying with my hair. - -‘I have seen the steward,’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee, opening the door; and -then, pausing, she cried out, ‘What is the matter?’ - -‘Do not ask, mother.’ - -‘But, my darling, I fear that anything that affects you may prove -harmful.’ - -I returned to my chair and dropped my veil. I felt the truth of the -mother’s words, and could not bear to meet her gaze. - -‘Will the steward find a place at my side for Agnes?’ asked Alice. - -Mrs. Lee replied yes, looking from her daughter to me as though she -sought, but was unwilling to ask for, an explanation for my kneeling at -the girl’s side and hiding my face in her lap. - -‘That is the Church of St. Nicholas, at Newcastle-on-Tyne,’ said Alice, -pointing to a photograph upon the cabin wall; ‘and that,’ said she, -pointing to another photograph, ‘is our home at Jesmond.’ - -I arose to look at them, and whilst I looked, Alice talked of -Newcastle-on-Tyne, and of the scenery of Jesmond Dene, and of Gosforth -and the Town Moor. Her pleasant gentle speech brought her mother into -the subject, and some while before the luncheon bell was rung in the -saloon I had recovered my composure. - -When the bell rang, we stepped forth. Alice took my arm. Her mother -made a movement as though to support her; they exchanged a look, -and Mrs. Lee passed out alone. Sweet as a blessing from loved lips, -grateful as slumber after hours of pain, was this girl’s sympathy -to me. The pressure of her arm on mine extinguished the sense of -loneliness in my heart. Her companionship supported me. It enabled me -to face the ordeal of that crowded table without shrinking, and I loved -her for guessing that _this_ would be the effect of her taking my arm -and walking with me to our seats. - -The chair which the head steward pointed to placed me between the -mother and daughter. As I seated myself, Mrs. Lee whispered in my ear: - -‘Alice has fallen in love with you. I am truly thankful. You will -be just such a companion as I would choose for her. But she is very -emotional, and her health--but you can see what her health is. We must -endeavour to protect her against any excitement that is likely to react -upon her.’ - -I was unable to reply to this speech, owing to Alice on the other side -asking me some question that demanded an instant answer, and when I -had responded, my attention was occupied in bowing and in murmuring -responses to the greetings of the people at the table. - -It was a bright and cheerful scene. The long centre table was -handsomely furnished with good things, and the whole surface of it -was as radiant as a prism with the glitter of crystal and decanters -and plate. The ship rolled steadily, and the movement was without -inconvenience. Her canvas supported her. Had she been a steamer she -would have rolled most of the articles off the table, so high was -the sea. Through the skylight glass you saw the swollen white sails -rising into a dingy blue sky, across which large rolls of cloud were -journeying. The captain occupied the head of the table, and when our -eyes met he gave me a low bow, but called no salutation. At the foot of -the table sat the first officer, Mr. Harris. He too gave me a bow--but -it was an odd one. The passengers looked at me, some of them, almost -continuously, yet with a certain furtiveness. But my veil and the -having Alice by my side gave me all needful courage to bear a scrutiny -that otherwise I should have found too distressing for endurance. - -Yet I could not wonder that I was stared at. The mere circumstance of -my appearing in a veil heightened me as a mystery in the eyes of the -people. Who was I? Nobody knew. I was a woman that had been strangely -met with at sea, and found to be without memory, unable to give myself, -or my home, or my country a name. And then piquancy was added to the -mystery by Sir Frederick Thompson’s discovery that I was a Calthorpe. -He might be mistaken, but he might be right also; and to suppose me a -Calthorpe, or, in other words, a person of far loftier social claims -than anyone could pretend to on board that ship, was to create for -me an interest which certainly nobody could have found had it been -suspected that I was merely a poor passenger on board the French brig, -or the wife of the captain, or the sister of his nephew the waiter. - -Sir Frederick Thompson sat opposite me. He was for ever directing -his eyes at my face, and often he would purse up his mouth into an -expression which was the same as saying that the longer he looked the -more he was convinced. But my veil kept him off, as I believe it kept -others off. People stared, but they seemed to hesitate to accost me -through that gossamer screen, which scarcely gave them a sight of my -eyes. - -As Mrs. Webber sat on my side of the table some distance down, she was -unable to speak to me, for which I was thankful. From time to time -she stretched her neck to catch a view of me, but I was careful not -to see her for fear of her obliging me to raise my veil in answer. -Some handsome girls were sitting at the bottom of the table near the -chief officer; they were showily dressed, and their gowns fitted them -exquisitely. One of them I supposed had been Mr. McEwan’s beautiful -singer of the preceding evening. They could not see too much of me, I -thought. Indeed their eyes were so often upon me that after a little -I found myself looking at them eagerly, with a tremulous hope that -at some time in our lives we had met, and that they would be able to -suggest something to my memory, I whispered this hope to Alice; she -glanced at them and said: - -‘I fear it is no more than girlish curiosity, together with the idea -that you may be a titled lady. Did you hear them ask Mr. McEwan about -you just now after he had given you one of his strange, abrupt nods? I -am afraid they will not be able to help us.’ - -‘Do you observe,’ said Mrs. Lee, on the other side, ‘how the chief -officer, Mr. Harris, watches you?’ - -‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘Probably he is thinking of our conversation the -other night. He may have another idea about my memory to offer.’ - -‘He should attend to the navigation of the ship,’ said Mrs. Lee; ‘but, -like most sailors, he will be glad to trouble himself about anything -else.’ - -My sweet companion made no lunch. She feigned to eat to please her -mother, who frequently projected her head past me to see her. I noticed -that every eye which rested upon the beautiful fading girl wore an -expression of pity. - -The conversation became general, and the long and gleaming interior was -filled with the hum of it, with the sounds of corks drawn, with the -noise of knives and forks busily plied upon crockery ware. There was -also a dull echo of wind, a dim hissing of broken and flying waters, -that gave a singular effect to this hospitable picture of gentlemen and -well-dressed ladies eating and drinking. - -I listened to the conversation, but what I heard of it conveyed no -meaning to my mind. For example, Sir Frederick Thompson spoke of having -visited a certain London theatre a couple of nights before the vessel -sailed. - -‘I never saw such a full ’ouse,’ he said. ‘Yet it was Shakespeare--it -was “’Amlet.” They clapped when Ophelia came on mad, but it was the -scenery that gave the satisfaction. Without the scenery there would -have been no ’ouse; and though I consider Shakespeare top-weight as -a writer, what I say is, since it’s scenery that takes, why don’t -managers draw it mild and give us plays easy to follow and written in -the language that men and women speak?’ - -He seemed partly to address this speech to me, and I listened, but -hardly understood him. Others talked of Australia and the growth of the -colonies, of England, of emigration, of many such matters; but, so far -as my understanding of their speech went, they might have discoursed -in a foreign tongue. The captain, at the head of the table, spoke -seldom, and then with a grave face and a sober voice. Occasionally he -glanced at me. I do not doubt that many watched me, to remark how I -behaved. Knowing that I had no memory, they might well wonder whether -I should not often be at a loss, and stare to see if I knew what to do -with my glass, my plate, and my napkin. - -Before lunch was half over Mr. Wedmold and Mr. Clack, who immediately -confronted Mrs. Webber, raised their voices in a discussion. Mrs. Lee, -leaning behind me to her daughter, exclaimed: - -‘Those unhappy men are going to begin!’ - -‘What do they intend to argue about?’ said Alice, in her soft voice, -looking towards them. - -There was no need to inquire of our neighbours, for the two -gentlemen’s voices rose high above all others. - -‘It is idle to speak of Carlyle as a good writer,’ exclaimed Mr. -Wedmold; ‘his style is as barbarous as his matter is trite. Never was -reputation so cheaply earned as Carlyle’s. His philosophy is worth -about twopence-ha’penny. Here is a great original writer, who goes to -the Son of Sirach, and to Solomon, and to Collections of the Proverbs -of Nations, and taking here a thought and there a thought, he dresses -it up in a horrid jargon, harder than Welsh, more repulsive than -Scotch, more jaw-breaking than German, puts his name to it, and offers -the fine old fancy in its vile new dress as something original!’ - -‘It is not Dickens and Thackeray to-day,’ said Mrs. Lee. - -‘Well, you may sneer as much as you like at Carlyle,’ cried Mr. Clack, -‘but to my mind his style is the most magnificent in the English -tongue. He is sometimes obscure, I admit; but why? His style is a -Niagara Fall of words, and it is veiled by the mist that rises from the -stupendous drench.’ - -‘Give me Swift for style,’ exclaimed Mr. Webber, a gentleman whom I -have before described, with long whiskers and a glass in his eye. - -‘Pray do not be drawn into the discussion,’ said Mrs. Webber, calling -across to him. - -‘I beg your pardon? You mentioned----’ exclaimed Mr. Wedmold. - -‘I said Swift. Give me Swift for style,’ rejoined Mr. Webber, pulling -down one whisker. - -‘Swift has no style,’ said Mr. Wedmold. ‘Swift wrote as he thought, -as he would speak; so did Defoe. Style is artificial. Talk to me of -De Quincey’s style, of the style of Jeremy Taylor, of Johnson, of -Macaulay; but I never want to hear of the style of Swift.’ - -‘Give me Goldsmith for style,’ exclaimed a little elderly man seated -next to Mrs. Lee. - -‘And give me Paris for style!’ said Mrs. Webber, in a loud voice. - -There was a general laugh. - -‘These arguments are incessantly happening,’ said Mrs. Lee. ‘I wish the -captain would put a stop to them.’ - -‘Can you follow what has been said?’ whispered Alice. - -‘Some of the names mentioned are familiar to me,’ I answered; ‘but I -can collect no ideas from them.’ - -‘Shall we withdraw?’ said she. - -I at once arose and gave her my arm. Her mother remained seated at the -table. When I left my chair Sir Frederick Thompson stood up, and I -paused, believing he was about to address me, but quickly perceived -that his movement was a mark of respect. I had scarcely entered the -Lees’ berth when someone tapped on the door, even whilst I still -grasped the handle of it, and, on looking out, I perceived that it was -the steward or servant who waited upon the captain. - -‘Captain Ladmore’s compliments, madam; he wishes to know if it will be -convenient to you to visit him in his cabin presently?’ - -‘I will visit him with pleasure,’ I replied; and, closing the door, I -turned to Alice Lee and said, ‘What can the captain want?’ - -‘Do not be nervous, dear. I will go with you if you wish, or mother -shall accompany you. He intends nothing but kindness, you may be sure.’ - -‘I dread,’ I exclaimed, putting my hand upon my heart, ‘to be sent into -another ship.’ - -‘No, no; he will not do that.’ - -‘What would become of me in another ship? I shall be without friends, -and my loneliness will be the darker for the memories which I shall -take away from this vessel. And what will they do with me on board -another ship? Where will they take me? Wherever I arrive I shall be -friendless. Oh, I hope the captain does not mean to send me away.’ - -‘Do not fear. It is not likely that he will send you away until your -memory returns and enables you to tell him who you are and where your -home is.’ - -I placed a rug over her knees, and sat at her side and waited. -Presently Mrs. Lee entered the berth. - -‘Captain Ladmore has asked me to say he is ready to see you, my dear,’ -said she. - -‘Will you go with Agnes, mother?’ said Alice. - -‘But Captain Ladmore does not want to see _me_, my love,’ exclaimed -her mother; then, looking from me to her daughter, the good little -woman cried, ‘Oh, yes! I will go with you, Agnes. Give me your arm.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE SHIP IS MY HOME - - -The saloon was empty of passengers, and the stewards were occupied in -clearing the long table. We walked to the door of the captain’s berth, -knocked and entered. Captain Ladmore put down a pen with which he was -writing in a book, and, rising, received us with a grave bow. - -‘You are very good, Mrs. Lee,’ he exclaimed, ‘to take Miss C---- under -your protection.’ He placed chairs for us. ‘I am happy to observe, Miss -C----, that you have found kind friends in Mrs. Lee and her daughter.’ - -‘They are kind, indeed, Captain Ladmore. How kind I have no words to -tell you.’ - -‘My reason for wishing to see you is this,’ said the captain. ‘Sir -Frederick Thompson, a shrewd, keen-eyed man of business, whose opinion -on any matter must carry weight, persists in declaring that you are -a Calthorpe. Whether you are the Honourable Miss Calthorpe or Lady -So-and-so Calthorpe he does not pretend to guess. He persists in -holding that the likeness between you and Lady Lucy Calthorpe is too -striking, altogether too extraordinary to be accidental, by which he -would persuade us that you are a member of the family.’ He paused to -give me an opportunity to speak. I had nothing to say. ‘I own,’ he -continued, ‘that I am impressed by Sir Frederick’s conviction, for that -is what it amounts to. On leaving the table just now I said to him, “I -am about to see the lady on the subject. You have no doubt?” “I would -venture five hundred pounds upon it,” said he. “Yet you only met Lady -Lucy Calthorpe once; how can you remember her?” “I do remember her all -the same,” said he, “your shipwrecked lady is a Calthorpe. Take my word -for it!” Now, if Sir Frederick is right my duty is plain.’ - -‘Sir Frederick is not right,’ said Mrs. Lee. - -The captain arched his brows. ‘Why, madam,’ said he, ‘if Miss C---- can -tell you who she is not, she ought to be able to tell you who she is.’ - -‘She has told me nothing,’ said Mrs. Lee; ‘it is my daughter’s common -sense which settles Sir Frederick’s conjectures to my mind.’ The -captain bent his ear. ‘Lift your veil, my dear,’ said Mrs. Lee. I did -so. ‘Now, Captain Ladmore, look at this poor lady’s face. We are all -agreed that her figure proves her to be a young woman. But her face is -that of a middle-aged woman. And how has that come about? Some horrible -adventure, some frightful experience, of which we know nothing, of -which she, poor dear, knows nothing, has whitened her hair and cruelly -thinned it, and seamed her face. And judge now how she has been -wounded, and why it is that her memory has gone.’ - -Her voice failed her, and for a few moments she was silent. Captain -Ladmore viewed me with a look of earnest sympathy. - -‘If,’ continued Mrs. Lee, ‘our friend is like Lady Lucy Calthorpe -_now_, she could not have been like her before she met with whatever it -may be that has changed her. Therefore, since Sir Frederick believes -her to be a Calthorpe simply because of her resemblance to that family, -she cannot be anybody of the sort, seeing that she must have been a -different-looking woman before she was found in the open boat.’ - -‘Well, certainly, that is a view which did not occur to me,’ said the -captain, continuing to observe me and gravely stroking his chin. ‘But -how are we to know, Mrs. Lee, that our friend was a different-looking -person before she was found in the open boat?’ - -‘Her face tells its own story,’ answered Mrs. Lee, looking at me -pityingly. - -I let fall my veil. - -‘But to return to the motive of this interview,’ said the captain with -an air of perplexity. ‘If I am to suppose, with Sir Frederick Thompson, -that you are a member of Lord ----’s family, then my duty is plain. I -must convey you on board the first homeward-bound ship which we can -manage to signal, acquaint the captain with Sir Frederick’s opinion, -and request him to call upon the owners of this ship in order that -members of the Calthorpe family may be communicated with.’ - -‘I cannot imagine that Calthorpe is my name,’ I cried, pressing my brow. - -‘She is not a Calthorpe, captain,’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee, ‘and, since -she is comfortable here and with friends, it would be cruel to remove -her until her memory returns and she is able to give you the positive -information you require.’ - -Captain Ladmore smiled. ‘I hope not to be cruel,’ said he; ‘whatever -I do, I trust to do in the lady’s own interest. Then, addressing me, -he continued, ‘You shall decide for yourself, Miss C----. You are -quite welcome to remain in this ship. No feeling of being obliged need -disturb you. We nearly drowned you, and it is our duty to keep you with -us until we can safely place you. But consider that time is passing, -that it may be of the utmost importance to your present and your future -interests that your safety should be known to your friends. Whether -you be a Calthorpe or not, yet if your home is in England, which I do -not doubt, there are abundant methods of publishing the story of your -deliverance and safety, so that it would be strange, indeed, if your -friends did not get to hear of you.’ - -Mrs. Lee watched me anxiously. I gazed at the captain, struggling hard -to think; a horror of loneliness possessed me. I was again filled with -the old terror that had visited me on board the French brig when I -thought of being landed friendless, and blind in mind, without money, -without a home to go to, or, if I had a home, of arriving in a country -where that home might not be. - -‘She does not wish to leave the ship,’ said Mrs. Lee. - -‘Then by all means let her remain,’ said the captain. - -‘Her memory,’ continued Mrs. Lee, ‘may return at any time. Suppose, -_then_, that she should tell you her home is not in England, and that -she has no friends there. How glad you will be that you kept her.’ - -Again the captain gravely smiled. ‘What are _your_ ideas as to her -past, Mrs. Lee?’ - -‘I have no ideas whatever on the subject.’ - -‘But you do not doubt that she is English?’ - -‘No, I do not doubt that she is English,’ said Mrs. Lee, ‘but though -she be English still she may have no residence, and even no friends in -England.’ - -‘Granting her to be an English woman,’ said the captain, ‘where would -you have her live?’ - -‘Anywhere in Europe--anywhere in America--anywhere in the world, -Captain Ladmore,’ answered Mrs. Lee. - -‘But here is a lady,’ said the captain, ‘found in an open boat, not -very far south of the mouth of the English Channel. Now what more -reasonable to suppose than that the lady was blown away from an English -port?’ - -‘Why not from a French port?’ said Mrs. Lee. - -‘She had English money on her,’ exclaimed the captain. - -‘English people who live in France often have English money on them,’ -said Mrs. Lee. ‘But why do you say she was blown away from a port? Is -it not more likely that she is a survivor of a shipwreck, the horrors -of which have extinguished her memory? Assume this, Captain Ladmore,’ -said the little woman with an air of triumph, ‘and in what part of the -world are you going to tell me her home is?’ - -‘Well, Miss C----,’ said the captain, ‘the matter need not be discussed -any further. If you are satisfied to remain, I am satisfied to keep -you.’ - -I left my chair and took his hand and pressed it in silence. I was -unable to speak. - -As we left the captain’s cabin, Mrs. Lee said: ‘My husband was a -shipowner, and I know how to reason with sea captains. I believe I have -made Captain Ladmore see your case in its true light. We shall hope to -hear no more of Sir Frederick Thompson’s absurd notion.’ - -‘Oh, Mrs. Lee,’ I exclaimed, ‘I feel happy now. It would break my heart -to be removed to another ship, not knowing what was to befall me there -and afterwards.’ - -‘Will you come on deck for a turn?’ said she. ‘You can join Alice later -on. I wish her to rest every afternoon,’ and she then asked me to send -the stewardess to her, as she desired to unpack a bonnet and cloak -which were at my service. - -At the foot of the stairs, which conducted to the steerage, I found Mr. -Harris, the chief officer. I had not before encountered him in this -part of the ship. He was talking to a bearded steerage passenger, who -was leaning with folded arms against a table, but on seeing me, Mr. -Harris turned his back upon the bearded passenger, and saluted me by -raising his cap. - -We stood in the light floating through the wide hatch from the saloon -fore windows, and now, having a near and good view of his face, I was -struck by its whimsical expression. His skin was red with years of -exposure to the weather; one eye was slightly larger than the other, -which produced the effect of a wink; his eyebrows, instead of arching, -slanted irregularly into his forehead, and the expression of his -somewhat awry mouth was as though, being a sour sulky man, he had been -asked to smile whilst sitting for his photograph! These were points I -had been unable to observe when I met Mr. Harris at one o’clock in the -morning, and at table this day I had barely noticed him. - -‘Good afternoon, mam,’ said he. - -‘Good afternoon,’ I answered. - -‘There’s a gossip running about the passengers aft,’ said he, ‘that you -belong to a noble family. What d’ye think yourself?’ - -‘How can I tell, Mr. Harris?’ I exclaimed. ‘I do not know who I am.’ - -‘I haven’t rightly caught the name of the noble family,’ said he. ‘I’m -a poor hand at fine language. Perhaps you know it?’ - -‘Sir Frederick Thompson,’ I answered, says that I resemble a certain -Lady Lucy Calthorpe.’ - -‘Ah, that’s it,’ he exclaimed. ‘Calthorpe’s the word. Don’t the mention -of it give you any inward sensations?’ - -‘No,’ I answered. - -‘Then bet your life, mam, you’re somebody else. That’s what I’ve been -wanting to find out. No inward sensations! Over goes the show as far as -concerns Calthorpe.’ - -‘Mrs. Lee is waiting for me,’ said I, making a step. - -‘One minute,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve been turning over the matter of -shocks in my mind. There’s nothing for it, I fear, but a shock. Now, if -you are willing, I’ll have a talk with the captain, and tell him the -scheme that’s running in my head. But you must know nothing about it, -or it won’t be a shock.’ - -‘I am not willing, Mr. Harris,’ said I. ‘I do not like the idea.’ - -Seeing that I was moving away he exclaimed: ‘If you leave yourself in -the hands of the doctor he’ll do nothing for you. Place yourself in my -hands. I’m your man.’ - -Thus speaking he climbed the stairs, and I entered my berth. I -considered Mr. Harris, the chief officer, eccentric and well meaning, -and I dismissed him from my mind when, having sent the stewardess to -Mrs. Lee, I entered my berth. - -I stood with my eyes fixed upon the cabin porthole, that was at one -moment buried in the white thunder of the pouring waters and at the -next lifted high and weeping into the windy dazzle of the afternoon, -thinking over what had passed in the captain’s cabin; and whilst I thus -stood, a strange and awful feeling as of the unreality of all things -took possession of me. Everything seemed part of the fabric of a dream, -and I, the central dreamer of it all, seemed the most dreamlike feature -of the mocking and startling vision. Oh, what a strange and horrible -feeling was that! - -It was dispelled by the entrance of Mrs. Richards. Her hearty, homely -presence brought me to my senses. - -‘Well, it is good news indeed!’ cried she. ‘Mrs. Lee has told me what -the captain said, and I am truly glad to know that there is no chance -of your leaving the ship until your memory is able to point true to -your own home. What think you of this bonnet? And what do you say to -this cloak? I am sure the Lees, mother and daughter, are the very soul -of goodness. But who could help being kind to one in your condition? -So helpless! So lonely! And Mrs. Lee has settled that you’re not a -Calthorpe. Well, I daresay she’s right. And yet, do you know that -little City gentleman don’t look much of a fool either. But whatever -you be you’re a born lady. There’s breeding in your voice--oh! I’ve got -an ear for quality voices. The cloak’s a bit short, but it looks very -well. Let me pin that veil for you.’ - -And now, being equipped for the deck, I ascended to the saloon. Mrs. -Lee waited for me near the hatchway. She said that her daughter was -sleeping, and then putting her hand with an affectionate gesture upon -my arm she exclaimed: - -‘Alice has told me what passed between you before lunch. I am sure she -will be able to help you. She is my child, she is flesh of my flesh, -yet I think of her as an angel of God, and His praises no angel in -heaven could sing with a purer and holier heart, and He will forgive me -for believing this.’ - -She released my arm, and bowed her head and stood silent a minute, -struggling with emotion. We then mounted on to the deck. - -The scene was noble and inspiring. The high seas came brimming to -the ship, their colour was sapphire, and as they rolled they broke -into dazzling masses of foam. The stately swollen white clouds of the -morning were still on high; they floated in slow processions across -the masts which reeled solemnly as though to music. The sails upon the -ship were few, and their iron-hard, distended concavities hummed like -a ceaseless roll of military drums in their echoing of the pursuing -thunder of the wind. The water roared in snowstorms from either bow as -the great ship rushed onwards, and the broad and hissing furrow she -left behind seemed to stream to the very horizon, lifting and falling -straight as a line, like the scintillant scar of a shooting star on the -cold blue heights of the night. - -A sail showed in the far windy distance; she was struggling northwards -under narrow bands of canvas, and sometimes she would vanish out of -sight behind the ridge of the sea, and sometimes she would be thrown up -till the whole body of her was visible. Her hull was black and white, -and a long length of copper flashed out like gold every time she rose -to the summit of a billow. - -Walking was not difficult. The slanting of the deck was so gradual that -one’s form swayed to the movement with the instinct and the ease of a -wheeling skater. Not above half a dozen passengers were on deck, and -Mrs. Webber, I was glad to see, was not amongst them; in truth, I was -without the spirits, and perhaps without the strength just then, to -support a course of her voluble tongue. - -When we approached the forward end of the poop we paused to survey -the scene of the deck beneath us and beyond. I do not know how many -emigrants the _Deal Castle_ carried; her decks appeared to be filled -with men, women, and children that afternoon. You did not need to look -at their attire to know that they were poor. There was everywhere -an air of sullen patience, bitterly expressive of defeat, and of a -dull and sulky resignation that might come in its way very near to -hopelessness. Here and there were children playing, but their play -was stealthy, snatched with fear, dulled by vigilance as though they -knew that the blow and the curse could never be far off. A growling -of voices ran amongst the men, and this noise was threaded by the -shrill-edged chatter of women. But I do not remember that ever a laugh -rose from amongst them. - -‘Are all those people going to Australia?’ I asked Mrs. Lee. - -‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘this ship does not call at any port. She is -proceeding direct to Australia.’ - -‘They appear to be very poor.’ - -‘Most of them,’ said she, ‘have probably sold all they possess in the -world, with the exception of the clothes upon their backs, to enable -them to get to Australia. Poor creatures! I pity the women, and even -more do I pity the children. How are they fed? Not so well, I am sure, -as the pigs under that big boat yonder. And what sort of quarters have -they below? Oh, gloomy, dark and evil-smelling be sure, and suffocating -when the weather is heavy and the hatches are closed.’ - -‘I should like to see the place where all those poor people sleep,’ -said I. - -‘I would not accompany you,’ she answered. ‘It is miserable to witness -sufferings which one cannot soothe or help.’ - -‘And what will they do when they arrive in Australia?’ - -‘A good many will starve, I daresay, and wish themselves home. The -colonies are full. There is plenty of land, but people when they arrive -will not leave the towns. They will not do what those who created the -colonies did--dig and build new places--and there is no room in the -towns.’ - -‘There are a great many people down there,’ said I, running my eye over -the groups. ‘I wonder if any one of them has lost his memory.’ - -‘It would be a blessed thing,’ said Mrs. Lee, ‘for most of them, -perhaps for all of them, if they had left their memories behind them. -What have they to remember? Years of toil, of famine, of hardship, -years of heart-breaking, struggles for what?--for this! How big is this -world!’ she exclaimed, casting her eyes round the sea, ‘yet there is no -room for these people in it. How abundant are the goodly fruits of the -earth! And yet those people there represent hundreds and thousands who -cannot find a root in all the soil to provide a meal for themselves and -the children. Yet though we all say there is something wrong, who is to -set it right? Do you observe how that strange, fierce, dark woman is -staring at you?’ - -‘Yes. She is one of two wild-looking women who pressed forward to view -me when I came on board.’ - -‘What is her nation?’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee. ‘She looks like a gipsy.’ - -The woman sat upon the corner of the great square of hatch within -easy distance of the sight. Her complexion was tawny, her nose flat. -Thick rings, apparently of silver, trembled in her ears, and her head -was covered with a sort of red hood. The stare of her gleaming black -eyes was fierce and fixed. I had observed her without giving her close -attention, but now that my mind was directed to her, her unwinking -fiery gaze made me feel uneasy. - -‘Let us walk,’ said Mrs. Lee. - -We turned our faces towards the stern of the ship and paced the deck, -but every time we approached the edge of the poop I encountered the -cat-like stare of the toad-coloured woman’s eyeballs. - -Our conversation almost wholly concerned Alice Lee. The mother’s heart -was full of her sweet daughter. When she began to speak of her she -could talk of nothing else. She hoped that the voyage would benefit -the girl, but the note of a deep misgiving trembled in the expression -of her hope, and I could not doubt that secretly within herself she -thought of her child as lost to her. Do you wonder that I should have -found such a warm-hearted sympathetic friend as Mrs. Lee in so short a -time? When I look back I believe I can understand how it was: she was -a woman with a heart heavy with sorrow, but in me she beheld a person -far more deeply afflicted than she was in her fears for her child, or -could be in her loss of her. Her daughter was dying--she might die; but -the memory of the girl’s sweetness, her purity, her angelic character -would be the mother’s whilst she drew breath. But what had gone out of -_my_ life? She could not imagine--but she would guess that love--love -not less precious nor less holy than hers for her child lay black, and, -perhaps, extinguished for ever in my past. It might be the love of a -parent, of a sister, nay of a sweetheart: thus she would reason; not -dimly for an instant conceiving me to be a married woman with children; -but some sort of love, not less precious and holy than her own, might -have passed out of my life by the eclipse of my mind. This she would -conjecture, and the sympathy of her own deep affliction would be mine -in a sense of friendship that association might easily ripen into -affection. In a word, she pitied me with a heart that asked pity for -herself, and she pitied me the more lovingly because of her daughter’s -tender touching interest in me. - -We paced the deck for something less than an hour, during which we were -occasionally addressed by the passengers, and once joined by one of -the ladies who had contributed to what I may call my outfit. But this -was towards the end of our stroll, after we had talked long and deeply -of Alice Lee, and after Mrs. Lee had opened her heart to me in many -little memories of her life before God had widowed her. - -When we entered the saloon my companion went to her berth, and a moment -after put her head out with her finger upon her lip and a slight smile -of gratification, by which I understood that Alice still slumbered; so -I walked to the stairs which conducted to the steerage, but as I put -my foot on the first step, the door of a berth opened, and Mrs. Webber -came forth. She immediately saw me, and called: - -‘Where are you going, my dear Miss C----?’ - -‘I am going to my cabin.’ - -‘I will accompany you. I have not yet been downstairs, and I wish to -see the part of the ship you sleep in. Oh, I am making great progress -with the materials for the poem you are to be the heroine of. I wish I -could write prose. I believe the tale I have in my head would be more -readable in prose. Yet poetry gives you this strange advantage: it -enables you to be impassioned. You can make use of expressions which -cannot be employed in prose without provoking contempt, which is a -disagreeable thing.’ - -All this she said loudly, as we stood together at the head of the -steerage stairs. There were several passengers sitting about the -saloon, reading or dozing. Two or three of them exchanged a smile. -Perhaps they would have laughed outright had they not heard her -imperfectly. But a rolling ship is full of noises; all the strong -fastenings creak, doors clatter, there is for ever a rattle of -crockery, though one knows not whence it proceeds, and these and -other noises mingling with Mrs. Webber’s tones possibly rendered her -indistinct to the passengers sitting a little way off. - -‘By all means come with me downstairs,’ said I. - -So together we went downstairs, or ‘below,’ as it is called at sea, and -all the way to my cabin Mrs. Webber’s tongue was going. - -‘This is a very gloomy corner,’ she cried, as we entered the steerage; -‘the captain ought to find you more cheerful quarters. But I believe -all the upstairs cabins are taken. So this is the place where the -second-class passengers live! Pray pause one moment, that the scene may -paint itself upon my mind. I shall probably require this interior as a -setting for you.’ - -Whilst she stood gazing round her a woman came out of a berth. She -carried a baby in her arms. It was the baby that I had held and -kissed, but the person who carried it now was the mother. Mrs. Webber -took not the least notice of the child. As the person who carried it -approached to pass us, I made a step to kiss the little creature. It -knew me and smiled. I kissed it and took it in my arms, and when I had -nursed it for a minute I returned it to the mother, who looked proudly -as she received the pretty little thing, and, with a respectful bow -that was half a curtsey, went on her way. - -The child awoke no sensations. Why should that baby, I thought to -myself, have caused a dreadful struggle in my mind when I first saw it? -And why am I now able to nurse and kiss it without the least emotion? -Can the darkness be deepening? Is the surface of the mind hardening -under the frost and blackness of my sunless life? - -‘I am very glad there is not a baby in the saloon,’ exclaimed Mrs. -Webber. ‘I did not know there was such a thing in the ship--I mean in -this part of it.’ - -‘Have you any children?’ said I, recalling my wandering mind with -difficulty. - -‘I am thankful to say I have not. It is enough to have a husband. -My hubby is very good, but even _he_ does not permit me to enjoy -that perfect leisure of retirement which literature demands. He is -constantly looking in upon me at the wrong moment. Thought is a -spider’s web, and the least interruption is like passing your finger -through it. But how would it be with me if I had children? So this is -your cabin? Well, it is not so gloomy as I had feared to find it,’ and -seating herself she restlessly turned her eyes about; but there was -little enough for her to look at, and nothing whatever to inspire her. - -However, she was in my berth, and I was her companion, and she was -resolved not to lose an opportunity she had been on the lookout for, -and so she began to tell me what she considered to have been my past. - -‘You are not,’ said she, ‘a member of the noble family that Sir -Frederick Thompson talks of. I am sure I cannot tell who you are, but -you are not a Calthorpe. It is very wonderful, and I was almost going -to say delightful, to meet with so impenetrable a mystery as you in the -flesh. It is not as though your past and your name were _your_ secret. -You are as great a mystery to yourself as to everybody else, and there -is something awful and beautiful to my mind in such a thing. No, you -will find that you are the daughter of a country gentleman, who is -not very rich--pray excuse me! one never knows what ideas may be of -service: your being without jewellery makes me suppose that your people -live quietly somewhere; unless, indeed,’ she continued, looking at my -hands and at my ears and throat, ‘you were robbed. But that we need -not believe. I am not going to tell you how you came to be in an open -boat. No, if Captain Ladmore cannot understand that, how should I? Does -it not help you a little to hear you are the daughter a plain country -gentleman?’ - -I answered not, gazing at her earnestly, and straining my mind that I -might closely follow her words. - -‘I have settled,’ she went on, ‘and the Miss Glanvilles are of my -opinion, that you were pretty before you met with your accident, -whatever it may have been, that turned your hair white and aged and -mutilated your poor face. You have a sweet mouth. I envy you your -teeth, and your eyes are wonderfully fine, and depend upon it you had a -very great deal of hair before it came out. Do I seem to suggest even a -faint fancy?’ - -‘None whatever,’ said I, still with my mind on the strain, and still -gazing at her eagerly. - -‘Your age is about thirty,’ said she. ‘When you first came on board -you looked about forty. Now you might pass for six-and-thirty. How -delightful to be able to reverse the old-fashioned process! Ten years -hence you will be ten years younger, and I shall be ten years older. -But your real age--your age as you there sit--is from thirty to -thirty-two.’ - -She dropped her head on one side in a posture of enquiry. I gazed at -her in silence. - -‘I am going to be very candid,’ said she. ‘You are not a married woman. -When a woman arrives at the age of thirty to two-and-thirty, and -perhaps a wee bit more, it is not often, very often let me say, that -she is engaged to be married, or, put it more pointedly, that she has a -sweetheart. Her life’s romance will in all probability have been lived -out.’ She paused to sigh. ‘There may be sweet, impassioned memories, -but at the age of thirty or two-and-thirty.... So the past I construct -for you amounts to this, Miss C----: you are not a nobleman’s daughter -as Sir Frederick will have it, but you are the daughter of a plain -country gentleman, who is not very well off. Your father and mother -are living. You probably have a brother, who is in the Army or Navy; -you see to the housekeeping at home. This, I must tell you, is Mrs. -Richards’ idea. You are heart-whole, and though your absence will of -course cause consternation and anxiety, yet when your memory comes back -to you and you return to your home, you will find all well, and in a -few weeks settle down as though nothing had happened.’ - -I listened with devouring eagerness. Had Mrs. Webber been a witch of -diabolic skill and potency, I could not have followed her words with -more consuming attention. She had but to look at my face, however, to -know that all her ingenious surmises had gone for nothing. She pursued -the matter a little further, afterwards talked of her poetry, and -presently, taking up the slender volume which she had sent to me by the -stewardess, read aloud the ‘Lonely Soul.’ She stayed with me for about -half an hour, and then left me. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -AM I A CALTHORPE? - - -I dined in the saloon that day. Alice Lee remained in her cabin. Her -mother told me that the girl had slept for two hours, but that despite -her slumber she was languid and without appetite. - -‘She is looking forward to your sitting with her this evening,’ said -Mrs. Lee. - -‘I dread to weary her, and fear that she desires my company merely out -of the pity she takes on my loneliness.’ - -‘No’ exclaimed the little lady with sweetness, but with emphasis, ‘she -is sorry for you indeed, but did not I say that she has fallen in love -with you? You will not weary her--you will do her good.’ - -The dinner was a lengthy business, and to me somewhat tedious. Many -dishes were brought in by the steward through the doors which conducted -to the deck which the emigrants thronged in the daytime, and there was -a great deal of unnecessary lingering I thought in the distribution -and consumption of these dishes. But life at sea speedily grows very -tedious. If the port is a distant one, for a long while it stands at -too great a distance in the fancy to be much thought of; and the mind, -for immediate relief and recreation, makes all that it possibly can of -meal-time. - -I wore Mrs. Richards’ short veil, pinned round one of her caps. Sir -Frederick Thompson stared much, and twice endeavoured to draw me into -conversation, but whenever I spoke I found that the people seated near -suspended their talk to catch what fell from my mouth, and their -curiosity so greatly embarrassed me that I answered the little City -knight in monosyllables only, and presently silenced him, so far as I -was concerned. I was thankful to notice, however, that my presence was -fast growing familiar to the majority of the passengers. The two Miss -Glanvilles, and one or two others, constantly gazed at me; it was, -in fact, very easy to see that I was much in the minds of those two -handsome girls. Nothing could so perfectly fit their romantic humours -as a veiled woman, an ocean mystery, a lonely soul-blinded creature, -from the pages of whose volume of life the printed story of the past -had been washed out by salt water, leaving a number of blank leaves -upon which their imagination might inscribe what tale they would. But -the rest of the passengers ate and drank and talked, and scarcely -heeded me. Some of the people sitting near the captain spoke of the -voyage and the present situation of the ship. I heard Captain Ladmore -say that he hoped to be abreast of Madeira next day sometime in the -afternoon! - -‘Where is Madeira?’ I asked Mrs. Lee. - -‘It is in the Atlantic,’ she said smiling; ‘it is an island. Did not -I tell you that I went there with Alice? Over and over again, before -your memory left you, have you heard of Madeira. Is it possible that -the image of an island does not occur to you when you pronounce the -name of it?’ I hung my head. ‘I shall be glad,’ she continued, ‘when we -have passed Madeira; for Alice will then be able to go on deck. The sun -will be hot, and every day it will grow hotter; yet I dread the heat of -the tropics. The fiery heat of that part of the sea often proves more -injurious to very delicate invalids like Alice than excessive cold; and -if we should be becalmed! _That_ fear makes me wish I had chosen a -steamer. And yet a steamer would have been too swift for our purpose.’ - -‘What do you mean by being becalmed?’ said I. - -‘A ship is becalmed when the wind drops and leaves her motionless,’ -she answered. ‘I have heard of a ship becalmed on the equator for six -weeks at a time. Indeed, I wish I knew less about the sea than I do. -The captains who called upon my husband were full of the ocean, and -unsparing in their experiences. Imagine if we were to be for six weeks -in a roasting calm under the almost vertical sun! It might kill Alice.’ - -I left the dinner table some considerable time before the passengers -rose, and entered Alice Lee’s cabin. The girl reclined in an easy-chair -with a shawl over her shoulders, and a skin upon her knees. The time -was shortly after seven. In the east was a shadow of evening, but the -brassy tinge of the glory of the sunset sank deep into that shadow, and -flung a faint delicate complexion of rose upon the light that streamed -through the eastward-facing porthole into the interior. In this weak -light the sweet face of Alice Lee showed like a spirit as one thinks or -dreams of such things. - -She fondled my hand as she greeted me. ‘Bring that chair close beside -me,’ she said; ‘and tell me how you have been passing the time.’ - -I seated myself beside her, and whilst she held my hand I brought a -smile to her face by telling her of my conversation with Mr. Harris, -the chief officer. And then I told her of what had passed in the -captain’s cabin, and I also repeated Mrs. Webber’s ideas concerning my -past. - -We were uninterrupted. The evening in the east deepened into a bluish -darkness, and through the cabin window I saw a large trembling star -coming and going as the ship rolled. The berth was unlighted, but there -was an opening over the doorway, and through this opening when the -saloon lamps were burning there floated sheen enough to enable Alice -and me to dimly discern each other’s faces. - -She told me that she had added a few names to the list she had made -out, and that, if I was willing, we would go through the whole of -them next morning. And then having discoursed on various matters, our -conversation, imperceptibly to myself--with such exquisite delicacy was -the subject introduced by her--wandered into solemn subjects. - -Shall I tell you what she said? My memory carries every word of it. I -can open the book of my life, and betwixt the pages find the pressed -flowers of that dear girl’s thoughts and teaching, and the perfume -of those flowers is still so fresh, that never can they want life and -colour and beauty whilst their sweet smell clings to them. - -But shall I tell you what she said? No; her words were not intended for -the rude light of this printed page. She spoke of God, and from behind -the sable curtains that lay upon the face of my mind her angel voice -evoked the Divine idea; with tears and adoration I knew my Maker again, -and by her side I knelt in prayer to Him. - -There had been a hum of voices without, but a sudden silence fell upon -the ship when Alice Lee, whispering to me to kneel by her side, sank -upon her knees and prayed to that merciful Being whom she had revealed -to me to have mercy upon her lonely sister, to lighten my darkness, to -return me in safety to such dear ones as might be awaiting me. None -could have heard her but I who knelt close beside her in that shadowy -cabin, yet the hush lasted until her voice ceased. - -We arose from our knees, and as we did so the piano in the saloon -was touched, and a clear, rich and beautiful voice began to sing. We -listened. I seemed to know the air. It was as though there was a magic -in it to run a thrill through my lifeless memory. I harkened with -parted lips, breathing fast and deep. The voice of the singer ceased. - - * * * * * - -‘What song is that?’ I asked. - -‘It is “Home, Sweet Home,”’ answered Alice Lee. - -And now for some days nothing of any moment happened. A strong wind -blew over the ship’s quarter, and drove her fast through the seas. -Wide overhanging spaces of canvas called studding-sails were set. They -projected far beyond the ship’s bulwarks, they swelled like the sides -of balloons to the sweep of the wind, and thus impelled, with one sail -mounting to another until, at the extremity of the ship, the vast -spread of milk-white canvas seemed to blot out half the sky, the _Deal -Castle_ sprang through the billows, whitening a whole acre of water in -advance of her as the crushing curtsey of her bows drove the sapphire -roaring into snow. - -In this time I loved to stand alone beside the rail gazing down upon -the waters, and watching the wild configurations of the headlong -passage of foam. Was there no inspiration to visit memory from -those splendid and dazzling shapes of spume which rushed in endless -processions along the ship’s side? My imagination beheld many things -in those white forms. They were far more numerous than the pictures -painted by the clouds upon the sky. I beheld the gleaming shapes of -swimming women--vast trees spreading into a thousand branches--the -forms of castles and churches and of helmeted men; the heads of horses, -and many other such phantasies of foam. They came and went swift as the -wink of the eye, yet I saw them, and I would cry in my heart, ‘Is there -nothing in this sweeping throng of dissolving and re-forming shapes to -flash an idea upon my mind, to recall _something_--Oh it matters not -what!--that might serve as a point of fire amid the darkness upon which -to fix my eyes?’ - -The passengers without exception were exceedingly kind to me. If ever I -happened to be alone on deck one or another would procure me a chair, -lend me a book, stand awhile and chat with me. I was never vexed with -intrusion, by idle sympathy, by aimless questioning. Now and again -Mrs. Webber would talk till she teased me, but a world of good nature -underlay her vanity, and though often she made me wish myself alone, -yet I knew that, after the Lees, she was the kindest friend I had in -the ship. - -There was one person, however, of whom I lived in fear. He was the -first officer of the _Deal Castle_, and his name, as you know, was -Harris. One would suppose that I had fascinated the man. No matter -whether he was on deck or whether he was seated at the cabin table, if -ever I chanced to glance his way I found his eyes directed at me. He -never lost an opportunity to accost me, but his speech was so odd and -rough that I was always glad of any excuse to abruptly quit him. I had -thought Mr. McEwan brusque, but, compared with Mr. Harris, the ship’s -surgeon was a polished gentleman. And still, though I wished to avoid -him, I could not feel offended by him either. He was at all events true -to himself. It was not to be supposed that a man occupying his position -would willingly make himself offensive, and therefore I did not resent -his behaviour; yet he succeeded in rendering me very uneasy. - -First, I hated to be stared at. But that was not all. His persistent -way of watching me filled me with alarming thoughts. I believed that -he was rehearsing some extraordinary scheme to restore my memory. He -seldom addressed me but that he would affirm the only remedy for my -affliction was a shock, and whenever I observed him staring at me -I would think that man may be scheming to give me a shock. Dare he -attempt such a thing alone? The grave and serious Captain Ladmore -was not likely to listen to such a remedy, nor was it probable that -Mr. Harris would take the doctor into his confidence. Therefore -single-handed he might attempt some desperate trick upon my nerves, -not doubting--for of course he could not doubt--that the result would -justify his expectations and earn him the reputation of a very clever -man throughout the ship. - -These were my fears, begotten of a low nervous condition. But I held -my peace lest I should be laughed at. Not to Mrs. Lee, nor even to her -daughter, did I utter a word on the subject; and yet it came to this, -that I never went to my lonely berth of a night without slipping the -bolt of the door, and peeping under the bunk that was high enough from -the deck to conceal the body of a man. - -Captain Ladmore I occasionally conversed with. Once he gave me his -arm and together we paced the deck for nearly an hour; but he was a -reserved man, somewhat austere, grave and slow in speech, and the -expression of his face made one know that the memory of his bereavement -was always with him. For the most part he held aloof from us all, -walking a space of the deck from the wheel to the aftermost of the -skylights with his hands behind him, his tall figure very upright, his -eyes sometimes glancing seawards, sometimes up at the vessel. It was -hard to associate him with his calling. He had the air of a clergyman -rather than of a bluff sea-captain. - -During this time, that is to say until we had reached some parallel of -latitude to the south of Madeira, Alice Lee kept her cabin. She had -slowly read the list of names she had made out, wistfully pausing after -each delicate utterance, and gazing earnestly at me with her sweet -affectionate eyes; but to no purpose. Name after name was pronounced, -but it was like whispering into deaf ears. How could it have been -otherwise? Alice was now always calling me by the name of Agnes; her -mother also called me by that name; it was my own--yet I knew it not. -How then could it have been otherwise than as it was with Alice -Lee’s list of names? Having given me the name of Agnes, she omitted -it from the list which we went through together; but even if she had -lighted upon my name in full--by happy conjecture contriving it _Agnes -Campbell_--it would have been all the same; I should not have known it. - -‘No matter, dear,’ said she when she put the paper away, ‘there are -many more things to try.’ - -But she was mistaken. There were very few things indeed to try. My -memory was indeed so impenetrable that it rendered experiment almost -hopeless. So, by degrees, Alice Lee desisted, and I own that I was -grateful when she did so, for the dark struggles, the blind efforts -her questions and suggestions excited in me grew too fierce for my -strength. She of course never could have imagined the anguish she -caused me. But once I observed her viewing me steadfastly after she -had asked me some question, and from that time she gradually relaxed -her efforts to help me. - -Mrs. Lee was glad to have me as a companion for her daughter. It made -me happy to wait upon the dear girl, and my ministrations lightened the -mother’s duties. I read aloud to Alice, and heard her read aloud to me. -She had a hundred things to tell me about her home, about Newcastle, -and the sister who had been taken from her. She possessed a little -draught-board, and she taught me to play that simple game--taught me -to play it though it had been one of the most familiar of our games at -home! She owned a volume of solemn, heart-inspiring thoughts, which -she loved to read to me and I to listen to. Often have I desired to -meet with that book since; but persistently as I have inquired never -could I hear of a copy. It was a collection of extracts from great -and holy thinkers. Many human griefs and sufferings were dealt with, -and the language of every man was simple and sublime, so that there -was scarcely a passage that Alice Lee read aloud which I was unable to -understand. - -Never can I forget her look as we sat together in her cabin one -afternoon, she reading from this book and I listening. The subject -was Death. As she read her face lighted up. I gazed with wonder, with -something of awe and adoration at the tender triumphant enthusiasm of -her expression. A delicate flush tinged her cheeks, her bosom rose and -fell as though to a sobbing of joy. From time to time she paused with -lifted eyes, and her lips murmured inarticulately. - -‘It is beautiful and it is true!’ she exclaimed as she closed the book. -‘Why is not death always thus represented? All must suffer. Why should -death be called the King of Terrors? The imaginations of men picture -sleep as an angel bending over the weary, lulling pain, wreathing -sorrowful lips with smiles. But death--the deeper sleep, the angel that -is God’s messenger to man--death must be made terrifying and shocking! -It is a dreadful spectre poising a lance! Oh, death is divine; it is -no terrifying skeleton, but an angel of love, whose gift of slumber is -sweet and sure, from whose dreamless sleep you arise to find yourself -in the presence of God.’ - -In this strain would she talk to me, but in words and thoughts more -exalted than I have memory for. When I look back and recall these -sentences I have just written down, I often think to myself that it was -faith and not death that was the holy, soothing, and healing angel she -spoke of, and God’s messenger to man; for it was faith that lighted up -her eye and painted an expression of rapture upon her face when she -looked up to heaven and thought of the grave as but the little gate -that was to admit her into the shining glorious highway. And, again, -when I think of her, I often say to myself, Who to obtain faith would -not exchange all the treasures of this world?--to feel a deeper joy in -surrendering all things than many know in the acquisition of a few, -to have your hope fixed high like some bright star in the heavens, to -desire death rather than to shrink from it, to feel that the deep night -of death is on _this_ side the grave, and that the true dawn breaks not -until the spirit stands on the other side of that little silent chamber -of earth in which the body rests--to know this, to feel this is the -sweet sure gift of faith, the angel in whose atmosphere of heavenly -light death the shadow perishes. - -It was on the third or the fourth morning following the day on which -we had passed the island of Madeira--that is to say, on which we -had crossed the parallel of latitude on which the island of Madeira -lies--that, being in my cabin where I had passed ten minutes in gossip -with the stewardess, the door was thumped by a fist which I easily -recognised as Mr. McEwan’s, and the ship’s doctor entered. - -‘Good morning.’ - -‘Good morning, Mr. McEwan.’ - -‘I am the bearer of a message,’ said he. ‘I have told Miss Lee that she -may go on deck this morning, and Mrs. Lee has asked me to request you -to accompany her daughter.’ - -‘I will do so with pleasure,’ I exclaimed. ‘I am very glad you have -given her permission to go on deck at last. How do you think Miss Lee -is?’ - -‘How do I think Miss Lee is? How do I think Miss Lee is? Ask after -yoursel’. How are you?’ - -‘I feel very much better. I am still very nervous, but less so than I -was. Do you think, Mr. McEwan, that the hair upon my eyebrow will ever -grow again?’ - -‘That will be, as you shall see,’ said he. ‘I trust it may; for there -is undoubtedly an advantage in two eyebrows.’ - -‘You do not answer my question?’ - -‘I believe it may grow,’ he exclaimed. ‘If not, eyebrows are cheap to -buy. There are plenty of mice, and mouse-skins are a drug. How’s your -hair? Does it continue to thin?’ - -‘It no longer comes out,’ I answered. ‘Were the eyebrow to grow I -should look less unsightly. I should be able to make my appearance -without a veil.’ - -‘Do not trouble yoursel’ about your appearance,’ he growled. - -‘But tell me, Mr. McEwan, what you think of Miss Lee’s case?’ - -‘Are ye asking the question for Mrs. Lee?’ - -‘I am asking the question for myself. Alice Lee has taught me to love -her. She is a sister to me. Whilst she lives I am not alone.’ - -He looked at me gravely and said, ‘What d’ye think yoursel’?’ - -‘Oh, I do not know. Often I hope....’ - -He eyed me for a few minutes without speech; then, with a wooden face -and a stolid shake of his head, turned upon his heel and walked out. - -I dressed myself for the deck and entered the saloon. The interior -was shadowed by awnings spread above, and it was as empty as though -the ship were in port. Through the open skylights came the sound of -people laughing and talking on deck. The motion of the ship was very -quiet, and the atmosphere warm, as though the breath of the tropics -was already in the gushing of the wind. I entered the Lees’ cabin, -and found the mother and daughter waiting for me. Alice was warmly -wrapped, and a green veil was pinned round her straw hat. Mrs. Lee -apologised for sending for me. ‘It was Alice’s wish,’ she said. I saw a -smile upon the girl’s face through her veil as she put her hand into my -arm, and the three of us went on deck. - -A richer morning could not be imagined. There was not a cloud to be -seen, and the sky was a dark, deeply pure blue, like an English autumn -sky. A soft warm wind was blowing over the right-hand side of the ship, -and when I first breathed it I seemed to taste a flavour of oranges and -bananas, as though it came from some adjacent land, sweet-smelling with -sunny fruit. At the distance of about a mile was a large black steamer. -She was passing us on the homeward track, and there was a string of -gaudy colours flying from her masthead, and on lifting up my eyes to -our own ship I saw such another string of colours flying from the peak -as it is called. The steamer looked very stately under the sun, and -was as lustrous as though she were built of burnished metal. Points -of white fire burnt all over her, and her yellow masts were like thin -pillars of gold streaked with dazzling yellow light. - -An awning covered the greater part of the poop of our ship, for the sun -this morning was very hot. A comfortable easy-chair had been placed -ready for Alice, and when she was seated I looked about me for chairs -for Mrs. Lee and myself. Whilst I thus paused with my eyes roaming over -the deck, Mr Harris, the first officer, who was walking upon the poop -at the forward extremity of it, snatched up a chair, without regard to -whom it might belong, and, approaching us with it, struck it down upon -the deck close against Alice Lee, as though he intended to drive the -four legs of it through the planks. - -‘That’s what you’re in want of,’ said he to me, ‘I saw you looking. -Sit down. If the party who owns this chair wants another I’ll hail the -saloon,’ and so saying he wheeled round and marched forwards again. - -‘What a very extraordinary manner Mr. Harris has,’ said Mrs. Lee. ‘I -sometimes think he is not quite right.’ - -I asked her to take the chair he had brought. - -‘No, my dear, there are some matters I wish to attend to downstairs. -I will join you presently,’ and then she bent over her daughter and -asked her if she felt comfortable, and if the air refreshed her, and -so forth, and having lingered a little whilst she talked to Alice, -striving to see her child’s face through the veil which covered it, she -left us. - -Some of the people were playing at deck quoits. Amongst the players -were the Miss Glanvilles, and their fine shapes showed to great -advantage as they poised themselves upon the planks, and with floating -gestures and merry laughter threw the little rings of rope along. Every -one bowed with sympathetic cordiality to Alice, and several people left -their seats to congratulate her upon her first appearance on deck. One -of these was Sir Frederick Thompson. - -‘This is the sort of weather,’ said he, ‘to pull a person together. -Lor’ now, if one could always have such a climate as this in England! -Ten to one if there ain’t a dense fog in London this morning.’ - -‘Pray,’ asked Alice, ‘what are those flags, Sir Frederick, which that -lad in brass buttons there is pulling down?’ - -‘The ship’s number, miss. We’ve told that steamer out yonder who we -are, and when she arrives in the river she’ll report us, and our -friends’ll learn that all’s well with us so fur. I’ve got half a sort -of feeling, d’ye know, as if I’d like to be on board of that steamer -going home. I tell you what I miss--I miss my morning noosepaper. I -miss reading how things are. And how do _you_ feel this morning, Miss -C----? Pretty well, I hope?’ - -‘I am feeling very well, this morning, Sir Frederick.’ - -‘_That’s_ a good job. What’s life without ‘ealth? You must know I -haven’t changed my opinion about you. You’re a Calthorpe, and unless -your memory comes back to give me the lie, I’ll go to my grave swearing -it. What’s the latest argument against me? They say that if you’re like -Lady Loocy Calthorpe _now_, you couldn’t have been like her before you -was rescued, because you’re a changed woman from what you was. But -who’s to prove that? And what do they mean by change? Fright can turn -the hair white, but it don’t alter the colour of the heye, and it don’t -alter the shape of the nose, and it don’t alter the appearance of the -mouth. _That’s_ where I find my likeness,’ said he, leering at me. - -And then, with his whimsical cockney English, he told us of a son of -a nobleman who, having quarrelled with his father, had shipped as a -common sailor on board a vessel, and made his way to Australia. He -arrived at a city in Australia, and tried in many ways to get a living: -he drove a cab, he wrote for a newspaper, he was a waiter, he worked -as a labourer on the quays, he was a billiard-marker at a hotel, and -one night, whilst he was scoring for some people who were playing at -billiards, a gentleman, who had been staring hard at him said, ‘Are -not you the Honourable Mr. ----?’ and he gave him his name. The young -fellow changed colour, but denied that he was the Honourable Mr. -So-and-so. - -‘But the other wasn’t to be put off,’ said Sir Frederick Thompson. -‘“Don’t tell me,”’ says the gent. “I know your brother, and you’re -the image of him.” Such a likeness is out of nature unless it’s in -the family line, and at last the young fellow owned that he was the -Honourable Mr. So-and-so. ‘And now you’ll find,’ said Sir Frederick, -‘that I’ve discovered who you are, just as the Honourable Mr. So-and-so -was discovered by a likeness altogether too strong to be in nature -unless it’s in the family line.’ - -The little gentleman then pulled off his hat and left us. - -‘Would he persist if he did not feel convinced?’ said I. - -‘He is mistaken, dear. Let him account for your being discovered in -an open boat before he attempts to tell you who you are. And what -does he mean by a Calthorpe? That you are a sister of his friend, -Lady Lucy Calthorpe, or a relative? A sister is a relative, it is -true; but _relative_ is a word that will cover a very large number of -connections. What member of the family of Calthorpe does Sir Frederick -believe you to be? Agnes, do not give the little gentleman’s fancy -another thought.’ - -We were seated on a part of the deck that was not very far distant from -the wheel. The corner of the awning shaded us, but all about the wheel -was in the sun, and the glare of the white decks, and of the white -gratings, and of the white costume in which the sailor who held the -wheel was clad, and the white brilliance of the wheel itself, whose -circle was banded with brass and whose centrepiece was brass, paled the -blue of the sky over the stern, as though a silver haze of heat rose -into the atmosphere; and the dark blue sea itself was dimmed into a -faintness of azure by contrast with the glaring white light that lay -upon the after portion of the ship, which was unshadowed by the awning. - -But within the awning the deck was as cool as a tunnel. The violet -gloom was for ever freshened by the mild blowing of the breeze through -the rigging and over the rail; and the soft wind was made the cooler -to the senses by the fountainlike murmur of waters broken by the quiet -progress of the ship, and by that most refreshing of sounds on a hot -day, the seething of foam. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE GIPSY - - -I went to Alice’s cabin, where I found Mrs. Lee writing in what -appeared to be a diary, took from a shelf the book Alice had asked me -to fetch, and returned to her side; and I had opened the volume and -had found the place where I had left off when I last read to her, and -was beginning to read aloud when I found my attention disturbed by the -sound of voices behind our chairs. I turned my head, and observed that -Mr. Wedmold and Mr. Clack had seated themselves, regardless of the heat -of the sun, upon a grating near the wheel. They were arguing. - -‘It is impossible for me to read,’ I exclaimed, ‘while those men are -talking so loud.’ - -‘What are they arguing about?’ said Alice Lee; ‘let us listen.’ - -‘Yes, I am with you there,’ said Mr. Wedmold. ‘Defoe’s English is -admirable. But “Robinson Crusoe” is full of blunders.’ - -‘Blunders,’ cried Mr. Clack, whose collars held his neck so rigid that -he could not turn his head without moving his body from the waist. ‘I -have read “Robinson Crusoe” often enough, and cannot recollect a single -blunder for the life of me.’ - -‘Will you bet?’ - -‘No, I will not bet.’ - -‘Will you bet there are no absurdities in “Robinson Crusoe”?’ - -‘I will stand a drink,’ said Mr. Clack, ‘if you can point out--so as to -convince me--a single absurdity in “Robinson Crusoe”.’ - -‘Right you are!’ exclaimed Mr. Wedmold, with an accent of victorious -elation; ‘what about the mark of the foot?’ - -‘What d’ye mean?’ said Mr. Clack. - -‘“It happened one day about noon,” I know the passage by heart,’ said -Mr. Wedmold, ‘“it happened one day about noon,” says Robinson Crusoe, -“going towards my boat, I was exceedingly surprised with the print of a -man’s naked foot on the shore, which was very plain to be seen in the -sand.”’ - -‘Well!’ said Mr. Clack. - -‘Well,’ said Mr. Wedmold, ‘what are we to suppose? That the savage who -made that mark with his foot had a wooden leg? Only think of a single -imprint! Even two would have been unpardonable; there should have been -a whole flight of them. Could you walk upon sand capable of receiving -the imprint of your foot and stamp one impress only? Impossible!’ - -‘In all probability,’ said Mr. Clack, ‘the savage landed upon some -flat rocks which were skirted by sand; and in his walk he happened to -put his foot upon the sand once only, and hence Robinson Crusoe saw but -a single imprint.’ - -‘He evidently does not intend that Mr. Wedmold shall drink at his -expense,’ said Alice. - -The two gentlemen continued to argue. It was impossible to read aloud. -It was impossible indeed not to listen to them, for they often raised -their voices so high that people at the other end of the deck turned in -their chairs to view them. The discussion was ended at last--so far at -least as Alice and I were concerned--by Mr. Clack telling Mr. Wedmold -that he did not believe he had quoted correctly from the story. On this -they both rose and walked away to seek through the ship for a copy of -‘Robinson Crusoe.’ - -There was now peace at our end of the vessel, and opening the book -afresh I began to read aloud, but before I had read two pages, Alice, -with the capricious taste of the invalid, though her manner was never -wanting in perfect sweetness and gentleness, stopped me. - -‘I do not feel in the humour to listen to that book,’ said she. ‘It is -a book for the quietude of the evening, for the lamplight, a book for -the open window through which you can see the stars shining. It is not -a book for a sunny joyous morning like this. One should not be able to -see gay figures moving about, and hear the sound of laughter when one -reads it.’ - -I closed the volume and she talked of the sea and the wonder and beauty -of it, and recited some passages from the ‘Ancient Mariner’; but in -the midst of her recitation she was seized with a cough that almost -convulsed her. I raised her veil that she might breathe easily. She -sought to reassure me with a smile during the convulsions of her cough, -but it shook her to the heart. I seemed to hear death in the rattle -of that terrible cough. Never before in my presence had she been so -suddenly and violently seized. - -The fit passed and she lowered her veil, breathing quickly, and for -some moments she was speechless. Presently I said to her; ‘Has this -attack been caused by your coming on deck?’ - -She shook her head and answered in a low voice, as though speaking with -difficulty. ‘No, I often cough, but chiefly during the night. Do not -tell mother of this attack.’ - -One might have imagined her cough noisy and distressing enough to win -the attention of everybody upon deck, and that nobody heeded it, unless -it was the sailor who stood a little distance behind us grasping the -wheel, was because, whilst Alice was coughing the passengers had -left their seats, had thrown down their books or work, had forsaken -their game of deck quoits to crowd about the head of the ladder on the -right-hand side of the deck--the ladder that conducted from the poop -on to the quarterdeck below. I was too much grieved and concerned by -Alice’s attack to notice this movement of the passengers; but now that -she had recovered and was able to speak and get her breath freely, I -looked at the people and wondered what had drawn them in a body to that -particular part of the deck. - -‘Can an accident have happened?’ said I. - -‘Will you go and see what is the matter, dear?’ exclaimed Alice. - -I at once arose and walked along the deck, keeping on the side opposite -that which was thronged with the passengers. When I arrived at the -brass rail that protected the extremity of the deck, I looked over -and saw a great crowd of emigrants gathered about the central mast and -hatchway. They grinned and elbowed amongst themselves as they stared at -the concourse of passengers upon the poop. Half-way up the ladder on -that side stood the swarthy fierce-looking gipsy, who had ejaculated -on catching sight of my face when I first came on board, and who had -watched me with eyes of fire when I had walked the deck with Mrs. Lee. -She appeared to be haranguing the passengers on the poop. Her voice was -a peculiar whine, and she showed a set of white strong teeth as she -grinned up at them. Fearing if she saw me that she would point or call, -or in some way direct attention to me, I returned to Alice, seated -myself at her side, and told her what I had seen. After a few minutes -the crowd of passengers at the head of the poop-ladder drew back, so -as to allow the gipsy woman to step on to the deck. The whole mob, -with the fierce-looking woman in the heart of them, then came surging -to the skylight lying nearest to the edge of the poop, and here all the -people halted, with the woman still in the thick of them. Mr. Harris -hovered on the skirts of the crowd, taking a peep now and again over -one or another’s shoulder with his acid, dry, twisted face; and great -was the curiosity of the poor emigrants; for unheeded, or at least -unrebuked by the mate, they thronged the poop-ladder on either hand to -look on and hear what was said. - -The tawny, flashing-eyed woman could now and again be seen by us as -the people about her moved the better to hear or to accommodate one -another with room. Her white teeth gleamed; a fierce smile was fixed -upon her face; her eyes of Egyptian blackness sparkled under the red -hood or handkerchief that covered her head, her skin looked of the -colour of pepper in the sunlight; she talked incessantly, with frequent -exhortatory flourishings of her arms, and distant as she was--almost -the whole length of the long poop-deck separating us--I could see how -wild, fierce, and repellant was her smile, whilst she glanced from one -face to another as she jabbered and gesticulated. - -Frequent laughter broke from the passengers, and sometimes one or two -of the ladies recoiled by a step, though they would thrust in again a -minute after. - -‘What can they be doing with the woman?’ said Alice. - -‘They seem to be making fun of her,’ said I. - -‘It is more likely that she is making fun of them,’ said Alice. ‘Is she -a gipsy? She has the appearance of one.’ - -‘What is a gipsy?’ I asked. - -‘A person who belongs to a strange wandering tribe; whether there are -more tribes than one I do not know. They are to be found everywhere, -I believe. They look like Jews, but they are not Jews. It is supposed -that they originally came from Egypt or India. I used to take a great -interest in reading about them. I never can pronounce the word gipsy -without an English country picture rising before me; a wayside tract of -grass off a dusty road, clumps of trees here and there, the trickling -sound of a little brook mingled with the humming of bees and the lowing -of cattle in a near pasture, a waggon covered with canvas, two or three -dark-skinned little children playing on the grass, a tawny woman like -that creature there, bending over an iron pot dangling above a gipsy -fire, a fierce, bushy-whiskered, chocolate-faced man, mending chairs, -or making baskets, or tinkering at a little forge.’ - -She gazed at me earnestly when she ceased to speak. I knew that she -sought in the expression of my face for some sign of my recognition of -the picture she had drawn, for some hint of recollection in my looks. A -sudden burst of laughter broke from the people gathered about the gipsy. - -‘I believe she is telling fortunes,’ said Alice; ‘shall we go and -listen to her, dear?’ - -She took my arm and we approached the crowd. It was as Alice had said: -the woman was telling fortunes. She was holding the delicate white -fingers of the elder Miss Glanville, whose handsome face was rosy red. -Everybody was on the broad grin. The gipsy woman holding the girl’s -fingers talked with her eyes upon the palm of the hand, but sometimes -she would flash a look into Miss Glanville’s face. The creature spoke -deliberately, with a slow drawling whine. She seemed to heartily enjoy -her task, and to be in no hurry to proceed with her business of -divination. Her face was heavy, the features strong and coarse, and the -whole head would have better suited a man’s than a woman’s figure; yet -the countenance was not wanting in a certain wild comeliness. The nose -was of the true Egyptian pattern as we are taught to understand the -meaning of the word Egyptian by ancient chiselling and inscriptions, -and her hair, or as much as was visible of it, resembled a wig -manufactured from a horse’s tail. - -‘He will make you unhappy,’ she was saying in her drawling whining -voice, ‘but you will be true to him. Yet you will not be sorry when he -dies, and a handsome man will be your second. But he will have to wait -for you, and cheerfully will he wait for you, my lady, for he’s waiting -for you now. True love is never in a ’urry.’ There was a laugh. ‘He -will not bring you money. No, it is your ladyship that will set him -up; but he’ll never be made to feel his want of money, for your ’art -beats fond.’ - -‘What stuff!’ said Alice. - -‘It makes her blush, yet she does not look displeased,’ I whispered. - -‘Can’t you name the two fortunate gentlemen, mother?’ exclaimed a tall, -slender young man known to me as simply Mr. Stinton. - -‘Names is nothing,’ answered the gipsy woman, without lifting her eyes -from the girl’s hand, ‘it’s persons, not names, as my art deals with.’ -And then she went on to tell the blushing Miss Glanville that her home -after her second marriage would not be in England but in Italy. She -would live by a lake; an Italian nobleman would fall in love with her, -and though there would be no reason for jealousy the Italian nobleman -would cause a little unhappiness between her and her second. The -Italian nobleman would praise her singing and excite a passion in her -for the stage, but it would not come to the stage, for her second’s -wishes would prevail, and the Italian nobleman after a time would -withdraw and never more be heard of. - -Other rubbish of this sort did the fierce-looking gipsy woman drawl and -whine out, sometimes in language very well expressed, and sometimes -using slang or cant words which never failed to provoke the laughter of -the gentlemen. - -Amongst those who pressed most eagerly forward to harken to the gipsy -was Mrs. Webber. She was dressed in white, and a very pretty straw hat -was perched on her high-dressed hair. Her pale face wore an expression -of enthusiastic credulity, and she kept her eyes fastened upon the -gipsy as though she devoured every word the creature uttered. Alice -and I stood on the other side of the crowd, and Mrs. Webber did not -observe us. I speak of ourselves as a crowd, and indeed we looked -so on the white deck of the ship and under the shadow of the awning -which produced an atmospheric effect of compression, diminishing the -width and even the length of the ship to the eye. I had no doubt that -Mrs. Webber would ask to have her fortune told, and I loitered, Alice -leaning on my arm, with some curiosity to hear what the gipsy would -say; but when the woman had dropped the hand of Miss Glanville, and -while she swept the adjacent faces with brilliant eyes as though she -should say, Whose turn next? the tall, slim young gentleman known to -me by the name of Mr. Stinton pressed forward close to the woman and -exclaimed: - -‘I say, mother, I know something about you gipsy folks. My father was a -magistrate,’ and dropping his head on one side he smiled at her. - -‘What you know about us is that we are a very respectable, honest -people,’ said she, grinning at him, with her large, strong, glaring -white teeth. - -‘Do you still steal pigs?’ said he. - -‘Oh, no, no,’ she cried with a vehement shake of the head and an -equally vehement motion of her hand before her face. - -‘You no longer poison pigs and beg the carcases of the poor people to -whom they belonged and then clean them of the poison and roast them and -eat them, eh?’ said Mr. Stinton. - -A general laugh arose on either hand from the emigrants who swarmed -upon the two ladders. - -‘Oh, no, no,’ cried the woman, ‘we are respectable, hard-working -people, and get our money honestly.’ - -‘You no longer steal horses, then?’ - -‘Oh, no, no.’ - -‘Nor children?’ - -‘Why do you say such things?’ shrieked the woman, and her eyes blazed -as she looked at Mr. Stinton, and the flush that entered her cheeks -deepened her swarthy, ugly complexion by several shades. ‘By my God, if -you ask me any more such questions I will do you some mischief.’ - -‘None of that!’ cried Mr. Harris. - -‘My father is a magistrate,’ said Mr. Stinton, who had stepped -backwards and now spoke over the shoulders of Mr. Webber. - -‘It is a pity to insult the poor creature,’ said one of the ladies. - -The gipsy looked for an instant at Mr. Stinton, her eyes then went to -Mrs. Webber, and her manner changed; it grew suppliant and cringing; -the fierce expression of her lips softened into a fawning smile. - -‘Let me tell you your fortune, my gorgeous angel,’ she exclaimed, -resuming her former drawling, whining voice. ‘Oh, but I can see that -there is a happy fortune for that sweet face. Pull off your beautiful -little glove that I may see your hand, and whatever you crosses my own -hand with shall be welcome for the sake of your lovely eyes. Ah, what -mischief has my lady’s eyes done in their day, and what mischief are -they yet to do,’ and thus the woman proceeded. - -I could not forbear a smile at the manner in which Mr. Webber -readjusted the glass in his eye, as though to obtain a clearer sight of -the gipsy, whilst he stroked down one of his whiskers. - -‘This is sad nonsense,’ said Alice; ‘and I am a little weary of -standing. Shall we return to our seats, dear?’ - -I wished to hear Mrs. Webber’s fortune told, but Alice was not to be -kept standing, and together we walked to our chairs at the after-end -of the deck and seated ourselves. Just then Mrs. Lee came up from the -saloon. She inquired what the passengers were doing. - -‘They are having their fortunes told, mother,’ answered Alice. - -‘By our staring gipsy friend, no doubt,’ said Mrs. Lee, addressing -me. ‘Well, certainly life at sea is very dull, and you cannot wonder -that people should try to kill an hour, however stupidly.’ I fetched -a chair, and she sat down. ‘And yet,’ continued she thoughtfully, -letting her eyes rest upon her child, ‘I ought to be one of the last to -ridicule fortune-telling. When I was a girl of sixteen I was walking -with my mother--where we then lived--on the outskirts of Gateshead, -when we came across a gipsy encampment. A dreadful old hag stumbled out -of a group of dirty people, and begged to let her tell me my dukkerin, -as she called it--strange that I should remember the word after all -these years! My mother was for going on, but I stopped and put a -shilling into the old creature’s hand, and she told me my fortune.’ - -‘Was it a true fortune?’ said Alice. - -‘It was true, every word,’ answered Mrs. Lee; ‘it was wonderfully true. -She described the man that I was to marry, and had she spoken with -your dear father’s portrait in her hand she could not have been more -accurate. She told me how many children I should have; but, what is -more extraordinary, she named not only the year but the month of the -year in which I should be married. And it came to pass exactly as she -had predicted.’ - -‘And what more did the gipsy tell you, mother?’ said Alice. - -‘No more, my love,’ answered Mrs. Lee, but with a note of hesitation, -which made me suspect that more had been told to her by that old gipsy -than she was now willing to reveal. - -Meanwhile there was much laughter amongst the passengers at the other -end of the deck. I could occasionally distinguish an hysterical giggle -uttered by Mrs. Webber, and once a deep unquiet Ha! ha! delivered by -her husband. - -‘A ship seems a strange place for gipsies and fortune-telling,’ said -Alice. ‘Why is that woman going to Australia, I wonder? Are there any -of her tribe there?’ - -‘Probably some ancestor of hers was transported,’ answered Mrs. Lee. -‘He left descendants, and the woman is going to settle down amongst -them. Gipsies were constantly being transported for theft of all sorts -when I was a girl, in days when there were convict ships and when -unhappy wretches were banished for life from their country for crimes -which are now visited with a few months’ imprisonment. I am amazed that -there should be any gipsies left. There was more prejudice against -them than even against the Jews. They were hunted from town to town, -the parish eye was never off them, and they were really so wicked, -they committed so many sins, that it is amazing there should be any -survivors of the prisons.’ - -Whilst Mrs. Lee was thus speaking, Mrs. Webber came sailing out of the -crowd with a flushed face and a smile of excitement. Her flowing robe -of white cashmere fluffed out in ample winding folds as she advanced, -and she approached with an airy, floating gait that was like dancing. - -‘Oh, Miss C----,’ she exclaimed, eagerly bending towards me, ‘I have -been having my fortune told; and, do you know, the ugly creature is a -witch; she is positively a witch! She has told me some extraordinary -things, I assure you. My poor husband was silly enough to “hem” once or -twice as though her prophecies disquieted him. Now, Miss C----, I want -you to let the woman tell you your fortune.’ - -‘No, if you please, Mrs. Webber,’ I exclaimed. - -‘Oh, but you must let her tell you your fortune,’ she repeated. ‘Mrs. -Lee, I protest the creature is a witch. Do help me to persuade Miss -C---- to let the woman look at her hand.’ - -‘These people profess to tell the future only,’ said Mrs. Lee smiling. -‘Can that woman there read the past--a past that is hidden in darkness? -If she can,’ she continued, turning to me, ‘no harm can be done by your -crossing her hand.’ - -‘Only think,’ cried Mrs. Webber, ‘if something she said, some question -she put to you, should light up your memory.’ - -‘What could she invent that you or Mrs. Lee or Miss Lee could not ask?’ -said I. - -‘The woman is quite a witch,’ said Mrs. Webber, ‘you should give -yourself a chance. How can you tell who may help you or what may -inspire you?’ - -I looked at Alice. ‘I think Mrs. Webber is right,’ said she; ‘you never -can tell what may awaken recollection.’ - -‘I will not go amongst that crowd and have my fortune told,’ said I. - -‘I will bring the woman to you,’ exclaimed Mrs. Webber; and, full of -curiosity and excitement, and with her eyes bright with the animal -spirits which had been excited by the gipsy’s flattering observations, -she sailed away from us. - -‘What will the gipsy be able to say?’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee, laughing a -little nervously. ‘But more wonderful than her predictions must be the -credulity that can listen to such stuff. And stuff I call it, in spite -of the old woman who told my fortune rightly. Poor Mrs. Webber! There -are many ladies after her kind in this world, perfectly good-hearted -creatures, but----My husband used often to say that the strongest of -all human passions is curiosity, and that the speediest and surest way -of making money is to work upon that passion.’ - -‘Here comes the gipsy woman,’ said Alice. - -I felt extremely nervous and uneasy. I did not like the idea of being -stared at close by that flaming-eyed toad-coloured woman. And neither -did I like the idea of being stared at close by the passengers whilst -the gipsy whined at me. But it was now too late to draw back; Mrs. -Webber and the gipsy were coming along the deck, followed by at least -two-thirds of the passengers, and now the fierce-looking woman was -dropping curtsies to me and to Mrs. Lee and to Alice. She instantly -addressed me in a drawling, fawning voice. - -‘Ah, my sorrowful angel, it has been a bad time for you, and when I -first saw your ladyship I said to myself, She’s of Egypt, and if she -has bantlings they are tawny, and I cried, Tiny Jesus, what a face! -for the sight of it was like poison to my heart. Oh yes, my sorrowful -angel, I did think you one of us, and Roman you might well be,’ she -cried with her flashing eyes fastened upon my veil, ‘but for your -delicate skin and a look of high-born beauty which the likes of us -never has. Come, sweet lady, cross my hand, and let it be silver, that -I may tell ye your true fortune.’ - -By this time, we were pretty fairly surrounded by the passengers, and -a little way back, with his eyes fixed full upon me, was Mr. Harris, -the chief officer. The gipsy stood unpleasantly close. Her features -were more massive and coarse, her complexion more loathsome, her teeth -bigger and stronger if not whiter, and her eyes wilder, more flaming -and more searching than I had imagined them, though I had not stood -far from her when she was telling fortunes in the crowd. I remember -observing many minute dots of black upon her chin, as though she shaved -or had been pricked by a needle dipped in India ink. Her figure was -lame and muscular, her bust enormous and slack, her whole appearance -indeed so repellent now that she was close to me that I heartily wished -myself in my cabin out of sight. - -‘You do not mean to tell us,’ exclaimed Mr. Webber, ‘that you mistook -the lady for a gipsy.’ - -‘Indeed I did, dear gentleman,’ she answered; ‘when she first came on -board I took her for one of my people.’ - -‘Chaw!’ exclaimed Mr. Harris over the shoulder of Mr. Stinton. - -Mrs. Lee felt for her purse. - -‘Let the poor sorrowful lady cross my hand with a piece of money of her -own,’ said the gipsy. - -I put my hand in my pocket and drew out a shilling and placed it in the -broad palm of the gipsy’s outstretched hand. The passengers gazed with -excitement. Mr. Harris drew closer by a stride. The two ladders at the -forward end of the deck and the bulwark rail that rose to midway the -height of the ladders on either hand were still crowded with emigrants, -none of whom, however, trespassed an inch beyond the topmost step. All -this keen interest was easy enough to understand. Was it possible that -the gipsy, though she should be unable to restore my memory, would be -able to peer into the darkened mirror of my past and witness there what -was hidden from myself? - -‘You must lift up your veil, dear lady,’ said the gipsy, ‘there are -signs in your face that I shan’t be able to find in your hand.’ - -‘What is this?’ suddenly exclaimed the grave voice of Captain Ladmore. -‘Whom have we here? And what is she doing?’ - -‘She’s telling fortunes, sir,’ answered Mr. Harris, in a voice of -disgust. - -‘Who brought her on to the poop,’ exclaimed Captain Ladmore. - -‘I did,’ said Mrs. Webber. ‘Pray do not meddle, my dear captain. The -interest is just now red hot.’ - -The gipsy woman ducked with a wild sort of curtsey at the captain, -grinning with all her teeth at him as she did so. He gazed at her with -a sober frown, and I hoped that he would order her off the deck, but he -said nothing, merely stood looking gravely on, towering half a head -above the people who stood in front of him, whilst Mr. Harris, at his -side, scarcely removed his eyes from my face. - -‘Lift up your veil, if you please, my dear lady, that I may see your -eyes,’ said the gipsy. - -‘I had supposed that the sight of my hand would be enough for you,’ -said I. - -‘I can tell your ladyship’s fortune by your hand,’ said she, ‘but the -past lies in your eyes. They are the windows of your memory, and I must -look through them to see what’s indoors.’ - -‘What do you think of that for a poetical touch, Kate?’ I heard Mr. -Webber say. - -‘Raise your veil, Agnes,’ whispered Alice softly, ‘if it is only for a -moment, dear. I am curious to hear what the woman means to tell you. -There may be a meaning in this--something may come of it.’ - -So I put my hand to my veil and raised it above my eyes, contriving -that it should keep my scarred forehead screened. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -MY FORTUNE - - -The gipsy woman stooped and stared at me. Her face was close to mine, -I seemed to feel her hot breath and shrunk in my chair. Never can I -forget those eyes of hers. To this day do they revisit me in my sleep -and glare upon me in dreams. Oh, such eyes as that woman had! The -pupils were like liquid indigo; they contracted and enlarged as though -they were fluid, indeed, upon the orange ground of the balls. They -seemed on fire as their gaze flashed deep and full into my own vision. -The scrutiny swiftly grew intolerable and I dropped my veil. - -‘That will do, my sweet lady,’ said she, preserving the horrid whining -note in her voice, and then, taking my hand, she feigned to explore it -for some moments, perhaps minutes, so long did the pause seem. - -She stood with my fingers in her hand, poring upon the palm. I cast -a look around me, and in spite of my nervousness and uneasiness, -that amounted to positive distress, I had some difficulty to prevent -myself from breaking into an hysterical laugh at the countenances -which surrounded us. Mrs. Webber seemed unable to draw her breath; the -Miss Glanvilles stood with their mouths partly open; Sir Frederick -Thompson’s face was distorted by a grin of expectation; but it would -need the brush of a great comic artist to reproduce the looks of those -people whilst they waited for the gipsy to speak. - -She suddenly let fall my hand, drew herself erect and receded a step, -causing a momentary confusion amongst the passengers who stood -immediately behind her. She muttered awhile, and then in a sort of -singsong, drawling voice addressed me, as nearly as I can recollect, as -follows:-- - -‘It is not true that you are a single woman as they are saying -throughout this ship. It is nothing to me that you have no wedding -ring, for what signifies the want of a wedding ring when a poor lady is -found as you were, bleeding and insensible? What signifies a wedding -ring, I say, to such as you, found as you were, my sorrowful lady?--for -are there not thieves upon the sea as there are thieves upon the land? -And I do not need to be told that a sailor may be a good man until he -is tempted, and then he will turn thief; yes, he will turn thief, even -though he would give all that he has stolen for a drink of water and a -piece of biscuit.’ - -‘How extraordinary!’ I heard Mrs. Webber say. - -‘Oh yes,’ continued the gipsy, slightly gesticulating with her right -hand, ‘the wedding ring does not signify. You are a married woman. I -have looked into your eyes and I have seen a husband there; I have -looked into your eyes and I have seen children there. You are a married -woman, my lady. I tell you that, and I will tell you more; you are a -young married woman. You have not long been married. Your husband is -mourning for you, but he will not mourn long. Give me your hand.’ She -seized my hand with impassioned energy, and continued to speak with -her eyes fixed upon the palm of it. ‘You will be long separated from -your husband. A dark shadow will stand between you. Oh, it is very -clear--here is the sign: it is the shadow of death, that will stand -between you. It will roll away, but another shadow of death will take -its place, and though it will not stand between you and your husband, -it will be dark upon your soul, aye, even unto the grave.’ - -‘The woman certainly talks poetically,’ said Mrs. Lee, in a low voice -in my ear, ‘and it is clever of her to say what it has not occurred to -other people to think of.’ - -The gipsy viewed me with her bright eyes and her teeth bared, but -apparently she had no more fortune to tell me. - -‘I say, missis,’ exclaimed Sir Frederick Thompson, ‘I should like to -have your opinion upon the lady’s quality. If she ain’t a titled woman, -don’t she spring from a noble stock now?’ - -‘Ah, my pretty gentleman,’ whined the gipsy turning to view him, ‘The -duckkerin dook does not tell me that.’ - -‘You’ve told fortunes enough in your time to be able to tell breeding, -I hope, when you see it,’ said Sir Frederick. - -‘Oh, my pretty gentleman,’ drawled the woman, ‘to us poor gipsies all -the world is alike. We are all brothers and sisters, and those that are -kind,’ said she, bobbing a curtsey at him, ‘we love best and think most -of, and they are the true quality people of the earth.’ - -‘But you have not done with the lady yet, I hope?’ cried Mrs. Webber. -‘You have told her nothing.’ - -‘My gorgeous angel,’ answered the woman, ‘I have told the sorrowful -lady all I know, and what I know is the truth.’ - -‘What’s her country, mother?’ inquired Mr. Stinton. - -She eyed him sideways with a cat-like look, but made no reply. - -‘Tell us, my good woman, in what country you think her home is?’ said -Mr. Webber. - -‘Who can tell? I will not answer that,’ said the gipsy. ‘There are many -countries for the likes of such as the sorrowful lady to have a home -in. There is Russia and Spain and ’Olland. In them countries are plenty -of English gorgios. Where her home may be I cannot tell, for the dook -is silent.’ - -‘What Dook is she talking of?’ exclaimed Sir Frederick Thompson. - -‘Oh, sweet gentleman,’ she said, turning upon him again, ‘the dook is -the spirit that enables me to tell dukkeripen.’ - -‘Hearing you speak of Spain, mother, I thought you might have meant the -Dook of Wellington,’ said Sir Frederick. - -Mrs. Webber looked at her husband with a face of vexation, as though -irritated by the vulgar jokes of the little city gentleman at such a -moment of romance. - -‘Your dook is but a shabby expounder of riddles if he cannot tell us -why the lady should be found insensible and washing about the ocean in -a little bit of an open boat,’ said Mr. Wedmold. ‘Can’t the dook make a -guess?’ - -‘You forget, Mr. Wedmold, that fortune-telling means reading the -future, not the past,’ said Mrs. Webber. - -‘And that is right, my beautiful lady,’ cried the gipsy; ‘but I have -told the sorrowful lady her past too, and by-and-bye the dook may tell -me what her name is and where her ’ome is, and how many childer she -has; and if I enable her to return to her friends, I hope,’ said she, -sinking her knees in a curtsey, ‘that the poor gipsy woman will be -remembered.’ - -Captain Ladmore, who had been looking on and listening all this while, -stalked away from the crowd of us to the rail, and remained there, -gazing seawards. - -‘And shall I tell you your fortune, my sweet young lady?’ exclaimed the -gipsy, addressing Alice Lee. ‘Give me your poor thin hand, and though -you cross mine with the littlest bit you have, you shall have your -fortune as truly told as though you gave me gold.’ - -‘My daughter does not require her fortune told,’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee, -jumping up with an air of mingled consternation and excitement, and -planting herself between the gipsy and Alice. - -‘I think we have had about enough of her for one watch,’ exclaimed Mr. -Harris, in his sourest voice. ‘Suppose you go forward now.’ - -‘Let me tell you your fortune, my pretty gentleman,’ exclaimed the -gipsy; ‘you are an officer of the ship, and I will tell you your -fortune for nothing.’ - -‘Get along forward to your quarters,’ said Mr. Harris. ‘When I want -lies told about me I’ll get ’em from somebody who’ll have sense enough -to fit my tiptop wishes. What can ye tell me? That after this voyage -I’m going to marry a German princess and be voted ten thousand a year -by the British House of Commons? You’d want sixpence to tell me that -lie, and there’s never a man for’ards that wouldn’t spin me fifty -better yarns about my prospects for a single tot of grog. So away -with you to your quarters,’ and he made as though he would drive her; -whereupon, dropping curtsies to me, to Mrs. Webber, and to one or two -others, the gipsy walked forward with a face rendered extraordinary by -the wild grin on her lips and the scowl upon her brow like a visible -shadow there, sharpening and brightening the fiery glancings of her -eyes. - -The crowds of emigrants on the two ladders melted away, the mob of -passengers broke up, but Mrs. Webber remained. - -Mrs. Webber, as I have said, remained; but for some moments neither she -nor Mrs. Lee nor her daughter spoke. Their eyes were bent upon my face, -and they waited, hoping no doubt that when I aroused myself from the -reverie into which I had sunk I would exhibit some sign of returning -memory. I held my head down, and kept my gaze fixed upon the deck, and, -rightly guessing that I would not be the first to speak, Mrs. Webber -said: - -‘Tell me now, has the gipsy woman helped you at all?’ - -I looked at her, and after a pause shook my head and answered, ‘She has -not helped me in the least.’ - -‘What could have put the idea of your being married into the creature’s -head?’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee. - -‘It is a strange idea,’ said Alice, looking at me earnestly; ‘but -I suppose those gipsy people understand the need of saying strange -things. They cannot be too dark and mysterious and startling to please -the sort of folks who cross their hands.’ - -‘But why should not Miss C---- be married?’ said Mrs. Webber. - -‘I hope she is not--but I am _sure_ she is not!’ exclaimed Mrs. Lee. - -Mrs. Webber ran a curious eye over me, and said: ‘I had my theory, but -I own the gipsy creature has driven it out of my head. Is it _quite_ -impossible, my dear Mrs. Lee, that Miss C---- may have been robbed of -her rings? Why should she be found without any jewellery upon her? Your -station in society is easily guessed, Miss C----, and I must say, now -the gipsy woman has suggested the idea, that your having been found -without rings, without a watch and chain, without earrings or brooch, -without, in short, a single ornament such as one might most reasonably -expect to find a lady wearing, looks uncommonly like as though you had -been robbed. In which case,’ she added, somewhat breathlessly, ‘you -_may_ have worn a wedding ring.’ - -‘Miss C---- had a purse with money in it in her pocket,’ said Mrs. Lee, -who never called me by the name her daughter had given to me before -strangers. ‘A thief who would steal rings or a watch and chain would -certainly steal a purse with money in it.’ - -‘But--forgive me for being candid, Miss C----; whatever I say, whatever -I may say, is _wholly_ for your sake--is wholly with the idea of -helping you to remember,’ said Mrs. Webber; ‘is it likely that a lady -occupying your position in society would be without a single ring?’ She -glanced at her own plump white hands, upon which sparkled a variety of -valuable gems. - -Alice Lee pulled off her silk gloves, and, lifting up her poor thin -hands, exclaimed with a smile in her voice--her face was concealed by -her veil--‘You may see, Mrs. Webber, that I do not wear rings.’ - -‘There may be a reason,’ exclaimed Mrs. Webber, looking a little -nonplussed. - -‘Yes, there is a reason to be sure,’ said Mrs. Lee, bringing her eyes -away from her daughter’s hands with a look of pain in her face, ‘Alice -never cared for jewellery of any sort.’ - -‘I could name two girls of my acquaintance, Mrs. Webber,’ said Alice, -putting on her gloves, ‘who do not wear rings, not because they cannot -get them, their fathers are rich merchants at Newcastle-on-Tyne, but -because, like me, they do not care for rings. I dare say we could name -others, mother, if we were to take the trouble to think.’ - -‘But would you be without a watch, Miss C----?’ said Mrs. Webber. - -‘Do not ask me!’ I cried. ‘All the while you are conversing I am -struggling with my mind.’ - -‘Take a few turns with me, dear,’ said Alice, rising, ‘and then we will -go downstairs and lunch together quietly in our cabin. I do not feel -well enough to lunch in the saloon.’ - -So I gave her my arm, and we paced the deck. Mrs. Webber took my -chair and talked with Mrs. Lee in a voice which she softened as we -approached, gesticulating with considerable energy, as though she -sought to convince her companion. After we had taken four or five -turns, Alice complained of feeling weary; we then descended into the -saloon and passed into the cabin. - - * * * * * - -At about nine o’clock that evening I went to my berth in the steerage, -having spent the greater part of the day since the hour of lunch -with Alice Lee and her mother. The girl’s cough had been somewhat -troublesome during the afternoon. It had abated, but it had left her -weak, and there had been a hint of querulousness in her manner, but -scarcely so much as to vex her sweetness; nay, I could liken it to -nothing better than to the passage of a summer breath of night-wind -over some exquisitely calm breast of water, causing the reflection of -the stars to tremble in the pure mirror, and shaking a little further -sweetness yet out of the lilies. - -I helped her to undress, and saw her into bed, and I sat and read -aloud to her until she fell asleep. Her mother had sat in an armchair -watching her, until some one began to play on the piano, whilst I was -reading to Alice, on which Mrs. Lee softly went out to silence the -music, as I might suppose, for it presently ceased, and before she -returned Alice had fallen asleep; whereupon, creeping from the berth, I -whispered to Mrs. Lee that her daughter slumbered, and went to my own -cabin. - -The bracket lamp was alight, but it burnt dimly, and I brightened it -for the sake of the cheerfulness and the companionship of the flame. I -was sad at heart, and my head ached, but I was not sleepy. Secretly I -had been greatly agitated by what the gipsy had said. Of course I knew -it was pure invention on the woman’s part; but even as mere suggestions -her words had sunk deep. Could it be that I was a married woman? Could -it be that I had children? The thought raised an agony of desire to -_know_--to be _sure_; but it brought with it no other yearning. I -knew not that there were dear ones at home mourning over me as dead, -and therefore my heart could not crave for them. To my eclipsed and -blackened mind my husband and my children were as the unborn infant is -to the mother that may yet bear it. I was without memory and, no matter -what might be the imaginations infixed in my mind by the suggestions -and conjectures of others, I was without the power to realise. - -But not the less was the struggle after recollection a dreadful -anguish. Sometimes I sat and sometimes I paced the deck of the cabin, -and all the while I was saying to myself, ‘Suppose that I am a wife! -Suppose that I have left a husband and children behind me at my home, -wherever it may be!’ And then I would come to a stand, and fold my -arms tightly across my breast, and close my eyes and with knitted brow -search in the blackness within me, till the fruitless quest grew into -physical pain unendurable as though some cruel hand were upon my heart. - -And there was something more than my own intolerable mental condition -to depress me. I could not doubt that Alice Lee was dying. She might -be spared for some weeks; she might even be spared to find a grave -in Australia. But when I had looked at her after her fits of coughing -that afternoon, and when I had taken a final glance at her as she lay -sleeping, I could not doubt that her time was short, that whether or -not she should live to reach Australia she would certainly never behold -her native country again. Short as had been our association, I could -not have loved her more had she been known to me and had she been dear -to me all her life. I loved Mrs. Lee, but I loved Alice Lee more than I -loved her mother. My grief was selfish, but then all grief is more or -less so. When this girl dies, I thought to myself, what friends shall I -have? Who will compassionate my loneliness as she does? Who will make -me feel as she does, whilst my memory remains black, that I am not -utterly solitary? I know that whilst she lives I shall have a friend, -someone who will care for me, someone who will not lose sight of me -when this voyage is ended and the homeless world is before me. But she -will die before the voyage is ended, and what then will become of me? -O God, take pity upon me! I cried out of the anguish of my soul; and, -throwing myself upon my knees, I clasped my hands and prayed for mercy -and for help to Him to whom Alice Lee had taught me to pray. - -The night was very quiet. The steerage was silent; one man I had -observed reading at a table under the lamp; but the fine night, as I -might suppose, detained his fellow-passengers on deck. There was a -bright moon; the silver sheen lay upon the glass of the cabin porthole -and so obscured it with misty radiance that the stars and the dark -line of the horizon were invisible. The wind was fair and fresh, and -the noise of the water washing past penetrated the silence. The ship -rocked stately and slow; indeed it was true tropic sailing, with a -tropic temperature in the cabin and a tropic night without, to judge by -the glory of the moonlight upon the cabin window. - -The minutes crept on, but feeling sleepless I had no mind to undress -myself. Indeed, I had a longing to go on deck, for the temperature -of the berth was uncomfortably warm; I did not know how to open the -porthole, nor, though I had been able to open it, should I have dared -to do so lest a sudden roll of the ship might submerge the orifice and -fill the berth with water. The temptation, therefore, to go on deck was -keen, and it was rendered the keener by my hot brow and headache; in -imagination I tasted the sweet night wind cool with dew, and beheld the -wide-spread splendour cast by the moon upon the vast dark surface of -the sea. But then it would shortly be ten o’clock, at which hour a man -regularly tapped upon my door and bade me extinguish my lamp; and then, -again, I remembered how Mr. Harris and Mrs. Richards had stated that it -was against the rules of the ship for women to wander alone upon the -decks after the hour for extinguishing the lights had been struck upon -the ship’s bell. - -Suddenly I heard a voice calling down the hatchway at the forward end -of the steerage; someone gruffly replied, possibly the man who had been -seated reading under the lamp. I paid no heed to these cries; they were -frequent enough down in this part of the ship. But about five minutes -after the cry had sounded my cabin door was lightly beaten and opened, -and Mrs. Richards entered. - -‘I am glad to find you dressed,’ she exclaimed. ‘I believed you would -have been in bed in spite of your light burning. There is a fine sight -to be seen on deck. What do you think it is? A ship on fire! You may -make many voyages without seeing such a sight.’ - -‘A ship on fire!’ I exclaimed. ‘Oh, I should greatly wish to see it! -But it is nearly ten o’clock.’ - -‘And what of that?’ said she. - -‘Why, did I not understand you to say that women are not allowed to be -alone on deck after the lights are out?’ - -She laughed and answered, ‘The Captain would not like women to be -wandering on deck alone at one o’clock in the morning as you were, my -dear; but there are always passengers about in warm weather at ten -o’clock, and sometimes after midnight, and whilst there are passengers -on deck no notice will be taken of your being there.’ - -‘If I had known that,’ said I, ‘I should have gone on deck half an hour -ago.’ - -I put on my shawl and hat--I call them mine--and, parting with Mrs. -Richards at her own cabin door, went on to the poop by one of the -ladders conducting to that raised platform from the quarter deck. It -was a very fine glorious night. The moon rode high, and under her the -sea lay brightly silvered. The sky was rich with stars, some of them -a delicate green and two or three of them rose, and the firmament in -which they sparkled had a soft and flowing look as though the velvet -dusk were liquid. The ship was clothed with canvas to the starry -altitude of her trucks. The swelling sails reflected the light of the -moon, and their gleam was as that of snow against the dark sky as they -rose with an appearance of cloud-like floating one above another, -dwindling until the topmost sail seemed no more than a fragment of -fleecy mist wan in the dusky heights. There was a pleasant breeze, and -it blew over the rail cool with dew and sweet with that flavourless -freshness of ocean air that is to the nostrils as a glass of water from -a pure crystal spring is to the mouth. - -I stood at the corner of the poop near the head of the ladder in -the shadow made by the great sail called the mainsail, one wing or -extremity of which was stretched a long way beyond the shrouds. Many -passengers were on the poop; they were whitened by the moonlight, and -as they moved here and there their figures showed as though beheld -through a very delicate silver mist, but their shadows swayed black and -firm from their feet upon the white planks. The forecastle of the ship -was crowded with emigrants. The moonshine was raining down in silver -upon that part of the vessel, and the people had a ghostly appearance, -every face whitened, and their clothes white as though they had been -powdered, as they stood staring across the dark sweep of sea upon the -right-hand bow of the ship. - -Woman-like I gazed everywhere but in the right direction when I first -gained the poop; but, observing some people on the other side of the -deck to point with shadowy hands, I immediately beheld what resembled -a globe of red fire upon the sea. It looked like a huge star setting -red as blood. I could not imagine how far off it might be, nor, but for -the stewardess’s information, should I have supposed it to be a ship on -fire. I had expected to see a great conflagration, a wide space of the -night sky crimsoned with forked and writhing tongues of flame, and I -was disappointed; but after I had stood gazing for a few minutes alone, -for there was nobody in that corner of the deck where I had planted -myself, a feeling of dismay, of consternation, even of horror possessed -me. I knew that the dark red globe burning upon the sea yonder was a -ship on fire, and knowing this I imagined that there might be living -people on board of the flaming mass. The whole spirit of the solitude -of this mighty scene of night, beautiful as it was with moonlight and -with starlight, seemed to be centred in that distant point of fire; -and the thought of the helplessness of the people on board the flaming -fabric amid so vast a field, their horrible loneliness, the awful -despair which that loneliness must excite--this thought, and other -thoughts which visited me from that distant mass of fire, presently -grew so insupportable to the deep melancholy which was upon me and -which had been upon me throughout the evening that I crossed the deck -in the hope of finding Mrs. Lee, that I might forget something of -myself in conversing with her. - -But Mrs. Lee was not to be seen. She was in her berth, probably in bed, -and they would not give her the news of the ship on fire for fear -of disturbing her daughter. The passengers stood in groups, pointing -to the burning vessel and speaking in tones of excitement. I went -from one to another, gazing into their faces and receiving nods and -enquiries as to what I thought of the ship on fire. Captain Ladmore -walked the hinder part of the deck alone. But as there was nobody near -him who resembled Mrs. Lee, I returned to that part of the deck where -I had first stationed myself, being in no humour to mingle with the -passengers on the other side. - -The sea was smooth, the wind fair and fresh, the spread of canvas -vast, and the ship was sweeping through the water at a rapid rate. She -was going through it clean as a sharp-built yacht would, making no -noise save under the bows, whence arose a sound of shearing as though -produced by a knife passing through thin ice. The marbled waters, moon -touched, whirled past alongside, softly hissing as they fled by, and -from the flight of those glimmering wreaths and eddies of foam I judged -of the fast pace at which the ship was sailing. - -Gradually the distant globe of fire enlarged, and now the sky was -reddened all about it, and as I gazed there stole out of the blood red -haze of light the dark shadow of a ship lying within a quarter of a -mile of the burning vessel. Mr. Harris, who stood near some passengers -on the opposite side of the deck, let fall a night-glass that he had -been holding to his eyes and called out to the captain, - -‘There’s a barque hove to close alongside of the burning vessel, sir.’ - -‘I see her, sir,’ answered the captain; and in a few moments the -palpitating fiery mass upon the sea slided a little away from the -bow. I was sailor enough to understand that our ship had been steered -for the burning vessel, but that Captain Ladmore, now perceiving that -assistance was close at hand, had resumed his course. Every five -minutes of sailing was rendering that picture of fire more splendid -and awful. She seemed a large ship, three-masted like our own. Great -columns of smoke rose from her, and into these sooty volumes the -flames would leap out of the burning hold, turning them crimson to a -great height, and the smoke hung like a thunder-cloud over the sea -where the ship lay burning; it eclipsed the stars, and it reverberated -in lightning-like flashes the darting of the red flames; and so -exactly did these flames resemble lightning that I heard some of the -passengers, who believed the cloud of smoke to be an electric storm, -express surprise that no thunder was to be heard. - -But the sublimity of the scene lay chiefly in the effect of contrast. -In one part of the ocean was the silver reflection of the moon, with -the bright, serene orb poised high and small over her own wake; the -dark waters streamed into that brilliant reflection which trembled -with the racing of the silver lines; and in another part of the ocean -lay the great flaming ship, with her masts and yards all on fire, and -showing as though they were painted upon the darkness in flames; and -a little distance from her hung the shadow of a large vessel, whose -canvas stole out in spaces of dim red, and then darkened again as the -flames soared and sank; and behind and over the mastheads of the two -vessels floated a huge dark body of smoke, which came and went to the -eye with its sudden sullen colouring as from lightning; and the whole -picture was made awful by its suggestions of terror and of destruction. - -It was a scene to hold the most thoughtless mute and to detain the most -wandering eye. But whilst I stood gazing two figures drew near; as they -approached I could hear they were arguing. - -‘You can never persuade me,’ said Mr. Wedmold, ‘that the Americans have -humour in the true meaning of the word, and there is but one meaning. -They are funny, but they are not humorous. Their fun is either purely -verbal or ridiculous exaggeration.’ - -‘What humourist have we ever produced,’ exclaimed Mr. Clack, ‘who can -compare with ----’ and he named a funny American writer. - -Mr. Wedmold’s silence was expressive of disgust. - -‘Or take Holmes,’ said Mr. Clack. - -‘Holmes’s humour is entirely English,’ said Mr. Wedmold; ‘by mentioning -Holmes you strengthen my argument.’ - -‘What do you mean by verbal humour?’ said Mr. Clack. - -‘The Yankee gets his grins out of odd words, some few of which still -survive in our kitchens,’ said Mr. Wedmold; ‘or he gets his grins out -of exaggerating or understating a situation. He will tell you, for -instance, that, two men falling out, one threw the other over Niagara -Falls, and the fellow got wet. The Yankee will look for a loud laugh at -_got wet_; but there is no humour in it. A Yankee in telling a story -will wind up by saying “So I said you git, and he got.” The laugh must -come in here, for this “git” and “got” is the point of the story. But -this sort of thing--and American humour is all this sort of thing--is -by no means humour, and very little indeed of it is even fun. One -page of Elia is worth the productions of the whole of the American -humourists put together, from the date of Bunker’s Hill down to the -latest effort of ----,’ and he again mentioned the name of a funny -American writer. - -I walked away and took up a position on the deck where I was unable -to hear this argument on American humour, and where I could watch the -burning ship in peace. - -Very suddenly the great blaze upon the sea vanished. My eyes were upon -the strong wild light when it went out, and I noticed that just before -it disappeared the flaming masts of the vessel reeled so as to form a -fiery arc, and then all was blackness where the light had been; whence -it was to be supposed that the ship, in filling with water, had heeled -over, and gone down like a stone. The vessel that hung near showed now -very distinctly by the moonlight, and immediately over the spot where -the burning ship had foundered, hung a great dim white cloud, which -reflected the moonbeams as a cobweb might; but as I gazed this immense -body of steam melted away, and nothing was to be seen but the pallid -sails of the befriending vessel showing out against the dark cloud of -smoke. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -MY DYING FRIEND - - -Captain Ladmore descended into the saloon, and several of the -passengers followed him to finish the brandy and water or wine which -they had been sipping when called upon to view the ship on fire. A -figure came across the deck to where I stood in the shadow of the mast. -I had supposed myself hidden, so dark was the shadow cast by the mast, -and I stood in the shadow. The figure was Mr. Harris, the chief officer. - -‘Good evening,’ he exclaimed. - -‘Good evening,’ I answered. - -‘Been looking at the burning ship?’ said he. - -‘Yes, I have been looking at the burning ship.’ - -‘Ever seen a ship on fire before?’ - -‘I suppose I never have.’ - -‘What d’ye think of a ship on fire as a show?’ - -‘It is a wonderful but a terrible sight,’ said I. ‘I hope no poor -creature has perished by the burning of that ship.’ - -‘No chance of it,’ he exclaimed; ‘the vessel that was hove to close by -long ago took every living creature aboard. Fine night, isn’t it?’ - -‘It is a beautiful night,’ said I. - -‘It’s a bit early still,’ said he, making a step to cast his eye upon a -clock that stood in one of the skylights. ‘There’s no hurry this time; -not like one o’clock in the morning.’ - -‘If Mrs. Lee were on deck,’ said I, ‘I should be glad to remain here -and walk a little. The air is sweet and refreshing, and the headache I -have had this evening has gone. It is very warm in the steerage.’ - -‘It’ll be warmer by-and-by,’ said he. ‘I should be happy to take a turn -with you, but I have charge of the deck and strolling wouldn’t be in -order. But there’s no law to hinder a man from talking on a fine clear -night like this, and with your permission I shall be glad of a short -yarn with you, miss.’ - -‘What do you wish to say?’ said I, feeling uneasy. ‘I hope you do not -mean to talk to me about shocks. I do not like the idea of such things, -and beg that you will not say a word about them.’ - -‘It’s not shocks to-night,’ said he, ‘though--but as I see you don’t -like the subject I’ll drop it. What I want to talk to you about is that -gipsy woman. I’ve been turning over what she said as to your being -married and having a husband waiting for you at home, and the like of -that. What are your sentiments on what that tar-brush of a woman told -you this afternoon?’ - -‘Do not ask me, Mr. Harris. I remember nothing, and it would be all the -same if the gipsy had told me I was the queen of England.’ - -He stood in the moonlight and I in the trunk-like shadow cast by -the mast, and I observed that he regarded me steadfastly, with an -expression of earnestness that might have gathered a deeper character -than it really owned from the nature of the light; he eyed me as though -he would read my face, but the shadow was as good as my veil, which I -had not thought of putting on at that hour. - -‘I’ll tell you what my notion is,’ said he; ‘that gipsy woman is full -of lies. How should she know that you’re married? Wouldn’t you wear -a wedding-ring if you were married? What does she want to make out: -that your wedding-ring was stolen off your finger when you were in -the boat? But those French chaps found you alone, didn’t they? You -couldn’t have been very long unconscious, and who’s to tell me that -you weren’t alone when you fell insensible? If there was a sailor -with you, you must have been sensible when he was in the boat; and -no man’s going to persuade me--whether you can remember that sailor -plundering you or not--no man’s going to persuade me that any sailor -or sailors--distressed as such people as were along with you must have -been--supposing any parties to have been along with you----’ he paused, -having lost the thread of his argument, and then, smiting the palm of -his left hand with his fist, he exclaimed with subdued energy, ‘What I -mean is, I don’t believe you were robbed.’ - -He glanced round to observe if anyone was near enough to have overheard -him. - -‘I can tell you nothing, Mr. Harris,’ said I. - -‘The gipsy and her lies may be put on one side,’ said he. ‘In fact, if -I catch her aft again with her confounded yarns I’ll make her wish that -this ship had never been built with a poop. Sir Frederick Thompson’s -opinion is another matter. I don’t reckon you’re a Calthorpe, as he -calls it; for there’s no inward echo to the name, and an inward echo -there’d be if a Calthorpe you were, so I think, and I believe I’m no -fool. But if you’re not a Calthorpe, you may be somebody as good and -perhaps better.’ After a pause he exclaimed, ‘Suppose your memory don’t -return to you?’ - -‘Do not suppose it,’ I cried with bitterness. - -‘I wish to say nothing to wound you, miss,’ said he, ‘but there can be -no harm in us two talking matters over. It’s early as yet, the ship -doesn’t want watching, a more beautiful night you may sail round the -world twenty times over without falling in with. You’ve got to consider -this; suppose your memory don’t return--what then?’ I did not answer. -‘Of course,’ continued he, ‘your memory is going to return some time or -other. The faculty’s alive. It’s only turned in for the present. Some -of these days something’ll happen to act like the thump of a bo’sun’s -handspike, and the faculty’ll tumble up wide awake as though it was to -a roar of “All hands!” But whatever it be that’s going to rout that -sleeping faculty out may keep you waiting. And meanwhile?’ - -I had no answer to make him and held my peace. - -‘The captain, no doubt,’ he went on, ‘will keep you on board this ship -until her arrival in London, if so be your memory won’t enable him to -send you home sooner. But when this ship arrives in dock, what then? -You can’t go on living on board her. The captain’s got no home now -that his wife and child are dead. He’s a good man and might find you -a lodging for a bit, but he don’t stay ashore above a couple or three -months. And what, I’ve been asking of myself ever since that gipsy was -aft here with her lying yarns, what’s to become of you?’ - -I drew myself erect and my foot tapped the deck with vexation and -distress. - -‘For God’s sake, miss,’ said he, ‘don’t feel offended by anything I may -say. You have friends aboard, and I want to be one of them, and prove -myself one of them by behaving as a friend, and perhaps as more than a -friend. My object in keeping you yarning here is to ask you to think -over what’s to become of you if your memory hasn’t returned by the time -the ship reaches England.’ - -I bit my lip and answered with a struggle, ‘What would be the good of -my thinking? My memory may return. In any case I must trust in God to -help me.’ - -‘Well, you’ll be safe in trusting in God,’ said he, ‘but someone to -trust in on this earth wouldn’t be out of the way either. You see, -miss, it may come to this: the ship arrives in dock and you’ve got to -go ashore; where will ye go to? You don’t know. There may be scores of -friends of yours within hail, but owing to your memory being at fault -ne’er a one of them can be of more use to you than if they were in -their graves. It seems cruel to talk of the Union; but my notion is, -that whenever one’s in a mess the first thing to do is to take a good -look round. I believe there are homes for destitute females, but for my -part I’d rather go to the workhouse if I was a lonely girl. So you see, -miss, it comes to this: you must have a friend....’ - -I could bear this talk no longer, and walked in the direction of one -of the ladders in order to return to the steerage. - -‘One minute,’ he cried, accompanying me, and so contriving to walk as -to oblige me to halt. ‘I’ve brought tears to your eyes, and I ask your -forgiveness. There’s been no rudeness intended in what I’ve said, God -knows. You’ll find that out before long, I hope. You’ll be discovering -that I wish you well. Though my parents were gentle folks, my college -was a ship’s forecastle and I’m without polish, and, what’s more, I -don’t want any. I’m a plain seaman, but I hope I can feel for another -as well as the best, and I want to be your friend, and perhaps more -than your friend.’ - -‘I am sure you mean nothing but kindness,’ said I, ‘but your words have -distressed me. You make my future appear hopeless and dreadful.’ - -‘That’s how I want you to view it,’ said he, ‘by correctly realising -it you’ll be able to deal with it.’ - -‘Good-night,’ I exclaimed; and without another word I left him and -returned to my berth. - - * * * * * - -As I have before said, I considered Mr. Harris eccentric, unpleasantly -well meaning, and not a man to be angry with because he spoke bluntly -and said things which were disagreeable and even offensive to hear. But -the language he had held destroyed my night’s rest. I could not sleep -for thinking of his miserable talk about the workhouse and asylums -for destitute females. What he meant by saying that he wished to be -something more than a friend to me did not trouble my head. All that I -could think of was the picture he had drawn of the arrival of the _Deal -Castle_ in dock, of my being without memory, and stepping ashore unable -to recollect the name of a friend likely to help me. - -Many to whom my story is known have since that miserable time expressed -wonder that Captain Ladmore did not put me on board a homeward-bound -ship--that is to say, a ship proceeding to England--with a request to -her captain to inform the owners of the _Deal Castle_ in what manner -their vessel had fallen in with me, and to beg them to make my case -public in the newspapers, so that if I had friends in England they -could come forward and claim me. - -But then, as I have already explained in a preceding chapter, Captain -Ladmore did not know whether I had a home or friends in England or not. -For all he could tell I might be the sole survivor of a shipwreck, or -the surviving occupant of one of the boats which had put off before the -ship went down, and if that were so--and there was nothing improbable -in the supposition--then I might have been a passenger coming from -America, or Australia, or India. It would not follow, according to -his humane reasoning, that, because I was undeniably an Englishwoman, -I lived in England and had friends in that country. And if I had no -friends and no home in England, then his sending me there at the first -opportunity whilst my memory remained a blank would be nothing short -of cruelty; for when I landed I should be destitute, without money and -without friends, and, being without memory, more helpless and worse -off than the veriest beggar that might crawl past me in rags. But by -keeping me on board his ship he hoped to give my memory time to recover -its powers, so that, as he himself had said, whatever steps he took to -restore me to my friends would be sure, for he would know where to send -me. Then, again, it must be remembered that I had begged and prayed to -remain on board whilst my memory continued dark, and that I had spoken -with horror and with tears of the prospect of being landed without a -shelter to go to. - -This, then, is my answer to the wonder that has been expressed by my -friends since this frightful passage of my life came to an end, and -I enter it here as much to explain Captain Ladmore’s motives as to -accentuate his humanity. - -Propelled by pleasant winds, which sometimes blew over the stern and -sometimes off the beam, the fine ship _Deal Castle_ stemmed her way -into the tropics, and every twenty-four hours brought the equator -nearer to us by many leagues. All day long the deck was kept shadowed -by the awning, in whose violet-tinted coolness lounged the passengers. -It was growing too hot for active exercise. The deck quoit was cast -aside, the walk to and fro the white planks was abandoned for the -American folding-chair, the piano was but languidly touched, seldom -were the voices of the singers amongst us heard, and there were hours -when it was too sultry to read. - -But the weather continued gloriously beautiful, the sky cloudless, the -ocean a rich dark blue with the slopes of the swell wrinkled by the -wind, and here and there a glance of foam as the ship stole through -the waters, rippling the blue into lines as fine as harp-strings, -which the sun turned into gold as they spread from the bows. And the -flying-fish flashed from the side, and steadily in the blue calm of the -water astern hung the slate-coloured shape of a shark, the inevitable -attendant of the mariner in those fiery waters. - -I was now going about without my veil. Mrs. Richards had advised me -to bear being looked at for a little while, promising me that the -curiosity of the passengers would rapidly pass, and she proved right. -The people took little or no notice of me, and I was able to enjoy -the freedom of my own face, which was no trifling comfort, for often -I longed for all the air I could get, and the veil was like a warm -atmosphere upon my forehead. - -Nor was I so unsightly as I had been when I first came on board the -_Deal Castle_. The wound had healed. The scar was indeed visible and -gave an air of distortion to the brow it overran; but this was remedied -to the eye by some toilet powder which Mrs. Webber gave me. I applied -it plentifully with a puff, and the powder not only concealed the scar -but paired with my remaining eyebrow, which, as I have told you, had -turned white with my hair. - -By this time I had much improved in health and in some respects in -appearance. My eyes had regained their brightness, and there seemed -no lack of the light of intelligence in them, though, as I should have -supposed, in a person without memory, one would expect to find the gaze -dull and slow and the glow of the sight dim. My figure had improved. I -held myself erect, and a certain grace had come to my movements from my -capacity as a dancer--for I was always thought a very good dancer--to -take the moving platform of the deck. My cheeks had grown plump; the -hollows had filled up, and the haggard look was gone. Nevertheless my -face still showed as that of a woman of forty I remember once saying to -Mr. McEwan, ‘What could have caused those fine lines to be drawn over -my face?’ - -‘Nerves,’ he answered, in his short abrupt way. - -‘They are not wrinkles,’ said I. - -‘If they were wrinkles it would be Time,’ said he. ‘Be satisfied with -that explanation.’ - -‘Would the shock that turned my hair white thread the skin of my face -with these fine lines?’ said I. - -‘It all happened at once,’ he answered; ‘I would lend you a book on -nerves if I did not fear that the reading of it would turn ye daft.’ - -‘Will the skin of my face ever grow smooth?’ said I. - -‘Never smoother than it is,’ he answered. ‘Isn’t it as smooth and soft -as kid? What more d’ye want?’ - -‘What I meant to ask was, will these fine lines which disfigure my face -ever disappear?’ - -‘Heaven defend us!’ he cried, feigning a warmth which his countenance -belied; ‘your sex are all alike. Your questions are all prompted by -vanity. It is not “Is there any chance, doctor, of my ever recovering -the faculties of my mind?” but “Shall I ever regain my beautiful -complexion?” “Never mind about my sight failing; will the glasses you -order me to wear become me?” “Never mind about my heart being affected; -shall I be able to go on lacing so as to keep my waist?”’ and he -departed leaving my question unanswered. - -My complexion, however, had cleared with the improvement of my health; -the dingy sallow colour was gone out of my cheeks, and a faint bloom -had taken its place. It was as though my youth struggled to show -its rosy face through the mask which calamity had stamped upon my -countenance. This faint bloom, as I call it, might, in spite of the -interlacery of fine lines, have brought my appearance to within a few -years of my real age had it not been for my white hair, which was so -fleecy and thin that you would only think of looking for the like of -it on the head of an old lady of seventy or eighty years. Indeed, what -with my figure, which was that of a fine young woman of seven- or -eight-and twenty, what with my eyes and teeth, which corresponded with -my figure, and what with my white hair, white eyebrow, scarred temple -and finely-lined skin, as though the flesh had been inlaid with a -spider’s web, I doubtless presented to the eyes of my fellow-passengers -the most extraordinary compound of youth and age it could have entered -into the nimblest imagination among them to figure. - -Nearly the whole of my time was spent in the company of Alice Lee. I -read to her, I helped her to dress, I accompanied her on deck, indeed -I was scarcely ever absent from her side. Mrs. Lee encouraged our -companionship. Whatever served to sustain her daughter’s spirits, -whatever contributed to lighten the tedium of the girl’s long hours -of confinement to her cabin, must needs be welcome to the devoted -mother. Often it happens that the sufferer from the disease of -consumption, though of an angelic sweetness of heart, and though of a -most beautiful, loving, gentle nature, will unconsciously be rendered -petulant by the ministrations of one, by the devoted association, and -by the heart-breaking anxiety of one, who may be the dearest of all -human beings to her in this world, even her own mother. She is fretted -by the importunities of love. The devotion is too anxious, too eager, -too restless. - -Mrs. Lee tried hard to conceal what was in her heart, but it must have -vent in some shape or form. It rendered her vigilance impassioned. -Indeed, I once took the liberty of telling her that the expression of -pain and grief her face unconsciously wore when she sat with Alice, and -heard her cough, or beheld any increase of languor in the movement of -her eyes or in her speech, proved harmful to her child by poignantly -reminding her of her mother’s sorrow and of the reason of it. And so -it came about that Mrs. Lee welcomed my intimate association with her -daughter and promoted it by leaving us much alone together. - -Sometimes Mrs. Webber joined Alice and me when we were on deck, and -occasionally she visited us when we were in the Lees’ cabin. I never -liked her better than at such times. She subdued her manner, there -was an air of cheerful gravity upon her, and her behaviour was as one -who has known sorrow. She sank all the coxcombries of her literary -talk when she was with us, had not a word to say about her own poetry, -and ventured no opinions on the merits of authors. I took to her very -warmly after she had visited Alice once or twice in her cabin. - -Much sympathy was exhibited by the other passengers, but their good -taste and real kindness of heart made the expression of it reserved -and askant, as it were. Both the Miss Glanvilles sang very finely, -and knowing that Alice loved certain songs which they sang with great -sweetness, one or another would come and ask her if she should sing to -her, and then sit down and soothe and charm the dear girl for an hour -at a time. But neither they nor any of the other passengers ever dreamt -of opening the piano until they learnt that Alice was awake or in a -humour not to be teased by the noise of the music. - -The hot weather tried her terribly. It was indeed as her mother had -feared, and I could only pray that Mrs. Lee’s dread of the ship being -becalmed upon the equator under the roasting sun for a long term of -days would prove unfounded. Sometimes the girl rallied and exhibited -a degree of vivacity that filled her mother with hope, and then a -change would happen on a sudden. She would be wrenched and shattered -by a dreadful cough, her head would sink, her eyes grow leaden, her -breathing pitiably laboured; she would turn from the food placed before -her, and lay her head upon her mother’s breast or upon my shoulder as -I sat beside her, and at such times I would think the end was close at -hand. - -As I have before said, she did not in the least fear death. She seemed -to have but one dread--that she should be buried at sea. I sat beside -her one morning in her cabin fanning her. The window lay wide open, -but not a breath of air entered the aperture. The ship was becalmed: -she had been becalmed since midnight, and now I did not need to -inquire what was the meaning of the word. I had been on deck before I -visited Alice, and looked around me and beheld a wonderful breathless -scene of stagnant ocean. I know not what our latitude was; I dare -say we were five or six hundred miles north of the equator. The sea -undulated thickly, faintly and sluggishly, as though it were of oil, -and it reflected the rays of the sun as oil might, or indeed as a dull -mirror would, and gave back the burning light from its surface in an -atmosphere of heat that swung to the lip and cheek with the light roll -of the ship in folds like escapes of air from a fiery oven. - -It was cooler below than on deck, and Alice and I sat in the cabin. -She was languid and very pale; there was a deeper dye than usual in -the hollow of her eyes, and her fair brow glittered with moisture. -We had been talking, and were now silent whilst I fanned her. As the -vessel rolled, a delicate noise of sobbing rose from the side. She had -not seemed to notice this sobbing noise before, but on a sudden it -caught her ear: she listened and looked at me a little wildly, then -rose and went to the porthole and stood gazing at the dim blue haze of -heat that overhung the horizon, and at the dull blue undulations of -oil-like water sulkily rolling to the slope of the sky. She returned to -her chair, and putting her cold moist hand upon mine, exclaimed: - -‘Oh, Agnes, I hope that God will have mercy upon me and spare me until -we reach Australia, that I may be buried on shore.’ - -‘Have courage, my dear, have faith in God’s goodness,’ said I. ‘Do not -talk of dying. Keep up your dear heart, and remember that this is the -most trying part of the voyage. In a few days we shall be meeting with -cooler weather, and then you will be yourself again.’ - -She smiled, but without despair in the expression of her smile. It was -sad, but it took its colouring of sadness from her thin face, not from -her heart. She turned her eyes towards the open window, and said: - -‘I am foolish, and perhaps wicked, to dread being cast into the sea. -There are many who would rather be buried at sea than on shore. It is -a spacious grave, and one thinks of it as lying open to the eye of -God. But the thought of the loneliness of an ocean grave weighs down -my heart. Oh, I should be happy--happier in my hope of death and in -the promises of my dear Saviour--if I knew I was to be buried where my -mother could visit me. It is a weakness--I know it is all the same--I -am in God’s hands, and I am happy;’ and she hid her face that I might -not see the tear which rose to her eyes when she spoke of her mother -visiting her grave. - -But there was little need for her to hide her face, for the tears -rained down my own cheeks as I listened to her and looked at her. -When she saw I was crying she gently led the talk to other matters, -brightened her face, and after we had conversed awhile she said, -looking at me with a smile of tenderness that was like a light from -heaven upon her: - -‘Agnes, I have been longing to say that in case your memory should -remain silent after this ship has arrived in England my mother will -take care that you shall not want. This she will do as much for my -sake as for your own, and out of her own love for you too. I have not -spoken of this before, dear, because I disliked even to hint at any -arrangements which implied that your memory might be wanting after so -long a time as the voyage of this ship will take to complete. And yet I -have also thought that it would comfort you to know that your future, -should your mind continue sightless, will not be friendless.’ She -took my hand, and whilst she caressed it continued, ‘It will come to -your taking my place. When I am gone my mother will be alone, and my -earnest wish is that you should be her companion.’ - -‘Oh, Alice,’ said I, ‘you will live to remain your mother’s companion. -Would that God permitted that one life laid down availed to save -another’s....’ - - -END OF THE SECOND VOLUME - - - PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE - LONDON - - -[Illustration] - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - - -Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a -predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they -were not changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Alone on a Wide Wide Sea, Vol. II (of -3), by W. 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