family. "If he, I put on my bonnet, and set off to try and find her. Hester and Hexham said they would go towards Ulleshall, and see if she was there. I walked up and down, looking on every side. I thought each clump of furze was Emilia; but at last, high up by the beacon, I saw a dark figure against the sky. Yes, it was Emilia up there, with beaten garments and with wind-blown hair. She had unconsciously crouched down to escape the fierce blast. She was looking out seawards, at the dull tossing horizon. It seemed to me such an image of desolation that it went to my heart to see her so. called her by her name, and ran up and put my hand upon her shoulder. I "My dear," I said, "we have been looking for you everywhere." Emilia gave a little start. She had not heard me call. "I could not rest at home," she said. "I don't know. what brought me here. I think I ran almost all the way." All that day was a feverish looking for news. St. Julian had already started off for London that morning in search of it. Once I saw the telegraph-boy from Tarmouth coming along the lane. I ran down eagerly, but Lady Jane was beforehand, and had pocketed the despatch which the servant had brought her. "It is nothing," she said, and only concerns me." A certain conscious look seemed to indicate Sigourney. But I asked no questions. I went on in my usual plodding way, putting by candles and soap, serving out sugar. Sometimes now when I stand in the storecloset I remember the odd double feeling with which I stood there that Thursday afternoon, with my heart full of sympathy, and then would come a sudden hardness of She spoke with a trembling desperatelong use to me, looking back at the storms ness that frightened me. Two nights of of life through which I had passed. A sleeplessness, and these long maddening hard, cruel feeling of the inevitable laws hours, were enough to daze the poor child. of fate came over me. What great matter If she were to break down? But gentle was it one more life struck down, one things like Emilia bend and rise again. more innocent happiness blasted, one more "Come home now, dear Emilia," I said; parting; were we not all of us used to it,"it is growing dark. Your mother will be was any one spared ever?... One by frightened about you." one we are sent forth into the storm, alone to struggle through its fierce battlings till we find another shelter, another home, where we may rest for a little while, until the I could see that she was in a fever. hour comes when once we are driven out. Her cheeks were burning, while I was shivIt was an evil frame of mind, and a thank-ering: for the cold winds came eddying less one, for one who had found friends, a shelter, and help, when most in need of them. As I was still standing among my stores that afternoon, Aileen came to the door, looking a little scared. Queenie," she said, "Emilia is not in her room. Lady Jane, too, has been out for ever so long. Her maid tells me that she had a telegraphic message from that Captain Sigourney. Is it not odious of her now, at such a time? Oh, she can't have can't have 66 "Eloped?" I said, smiling. "No, Aileen, I do not think there is much fear." As time went on, however, and neither of them reappeared, I became a little uneasy. Lady Jane's maid when questioned knew nothing of her mistress's intentions. Bevis was alone with his nurse, contentedly stocking a shop in his nursery out of her work-box. But it was not for Lady Jane that I was anxious- she could take care of herself; it was Emilia I was looking for. "Ah! people are often frightened when there is nothing to fear," said Emilia, a little strangely. from the valley, and sweeping round and We began our walk in silence. Emilia's long blue cloak flapped in the wind, but I pulled it close about her. She let me do as I liked. She didn't speak. Once I said to her, Emilia, do you know, when I came up just now, I thought you looked like the picture your father painted. Do you remember it ?" shadows; the earth reflected the light faintly at our feet more brightly in the garden, which was higher than the road. Emilia put out her hand, and pulled herself wearily up the steps which led to the garden. It was very dark, but in the light from the stormy gleam she saw something which "I-I forget," said poor Emilia, turning away her face suddenly. All her strength seemed to have left her; her limbs seemed scarcely able to drag her along: her poor lit-made her cry out. I pulled Emilia back, tle feet slipped and stumbled on the turf and against the white chalk-stones. I put my arm round her waist and helped her along as best I could, as we crept down the side of the hill. "I think I cannot walk because my heart is so heavy," said Emilia once in her childish way, and her head dropped on my shoulder. I hardly can tell what I feared for her, or what I hoped. Sleeplesness and anxiety were enemies too mighty for this helpless little frame to encounter. I was confused and frightened, and I took a wrong turn. It brought us to the end of a field where a gate had once stood, which was now done away with. We could not force through the hedges and palings: there was nothing to do but turn back. It seems childish to record, but when I found that we must retrace so many of our weary steps, stumbling back all the way, in one of those biting gusts of wind, I burst out crying from fatigue and sympathy, and excitement. It seemed all so dreary and so hopeless. Emilia roused herself, seeing me give way. Poor child, her sweet natural instincts did not desert her even in her own bewildered pain. She took hope suddenly, trying to find strength to help me. 66 with some exclamation, being still confused and not knowing what dark figure it was standing before me in the gloaming; but Emilia burst away from me with a cry, with a low passionate sob. She flew from me straight into two arms that caught her. My heart was beating, my eyes were full of tears, so that I could hardly see what had happened. But I heard a low "Bevis! Oh, Bevis !" For a moment I stood looking at the two standing clinging together. The cold wind still came in shrill gusts, the grey clouds still drifted, the sun streak was dying; but peace, light, love uuspeakable were theirs, and the radiance from their grateful hearts seemed to overflow into ours. XIII. "WHERE is Lady Jane?" interrupted Hexham, coming home in the twilight, from a fruitless search with Hester, to hear the great news. It was so great, so complete, so unexpected, that we none of us quite realized it yet. We were strangely silent; we looked at each other: some sat still; the younger ones went vaguely rushing about the house, from one end to the other. Aileen and Mona were like a pair of mad kittens, dancing and springing from side to side. It was pretty to see Hester rush in, tremulous, tender, almost frightened by the very depth of her sympathy. The mistress was holding Emilia's hand, and turning from her to Bevis. "Oh, Bevis, if you knew what three days we have spent," said Hester, flinging her arms round him. "Don't let us talk about it any more," said he, kissing her blooming cheek, and then he bent over the soft mother's hand that trembled out to meet his own. "Oh, Queenie," she said. "Think if we find, to-morrow, that all is well, and that all this anxiety has been for nothing. But it could not be for nothing, could it?" she said. It is only another name for something greater and holier than anxiety, I thought; but I could not speak, for I was choking, and I had not yet regained command of my own voice. Our walk was nearly over; we got out on the lane, and so approached our home. At the turn of the road I saw a figure, with hair flying on the gale, who, as we appeared, stumbling and weary, sprang forward to meet us; then suddenly stopped, turned and fled, with fluttering skirts and It was not at first that we any of us heard arms outstretched, like a spirit of the wind. very clearly what had happened, for Emilia I could not understand it, nor why my lit-turned so pale at first when her husband tle Mona (for it was she) should have run away. Even this moment's sight of her, in the twilight, did me good and cheered me. How well I remember it all. The dark rustling hedges, a pale streak of yellow light in the west shining beyond the hedge, and beyond the stem of the hawthorn-tree. It gleamed sadly and weirdly in the sky, among clouds of darkness and vaporous began speaking of that fatal expedition in constellations, and mysterious splashings the door opened just as the train was startand stirrings along the waters. Emmy her nerves were still unstrung-turned pale, and Bevis suddenly began to describe his journey from Waterloo to Tarmouth, and his companion from London. One of the first questions Bevis had asked was news of his sister. Not knowing where anybody was to be found, he had gone straight to the Foreign Office on his arrival, for he was anxious to start again by the mid-day train for Broadshire. It was so early that none of his friends were come; only the porter welcomed him, and told him that there had been many inquiries after him, a gentleman only that morning, who had left his card for Mr. St. Gervois, with a request for news to be immediately forwarded to him at his lodgings. Bevis glanced at the name on the card, Captain Sigourney: it was unknown to him, and, to tell the truth, the poor fellow did not care to meet strangers of any sort until he had seen or heard from his own people, and received some answer to that last appeal to his father. "The gentleman was to come again," said the porter; "he seemed very particular." Mr. St. Julian, too, had been there the evening before: he had come up from Broadshire, on purpose to make inquiries. Bevis impatiently looked at his watch: he had not time to find St. Julian out- he had only time to catch the train. He wanted to get to his little Emmy- to put her heart at rest, since all this anxiety had been going on about him. "I shall be back again on Saturday," he wrote on his card, and desired the porter specially to give it to St. Gervois, and to refer all references to him, and to no one else. "And if the captain should come?" asked the porter. 66 Oh, hang the captain," said Bevis; "I I don't know what he can want. Tell him anything you like, so long as he does not come after me." "There is the gentleman," said the porter, pointing to a languid figure that was crossing the street. Bevis looked doubtfully at the stranger. He hastily turned away, called a passing Hansom, and driving round by the hotel where he had left his luggage, reached the station only in time to catch the quick train to Helmington. He thought of telegraphing, but it was scarcely necessary when he was to see them all so soon. He had posted a note to his father; he also wrote a line to St. Julian, which he left at the "Athenæum" as he passed. As Bevis settled himself in the corner of his carriage, he was much annoyed when 66 ing, and a tall, languid person, whom he recognized as Captain Sigourney, was jerked in. What did he want? Was he following him on purpose? Was it a mere accident, or was this an emissary of that Ephraim's, already on his track? It seemed scarcely possible, and yet . Bevis opened his Times wide, knitted his handsome brows, and glanced at his companion suspiciously. He had come already to the old anxieties, but the thought of seeing his little Emilia was so delightful to him that it prevented him from troubling himself very seriously about any possible chances or mischances that might be across their path. . . . The young fellow dropped his Times gradually, forgetting bills overdue, money troubles, debtors to forgive, and debts to be forgiven. He sat looking out at the rapid landscape, village spires, farms, and broad pleasant fields, dreaming of happy meetings, of Emilia's glad look of recognition, the boys, of Aileen, and his favourite Hester hopping about in an excitement of welcome gladness. Will you let me look at your Times?" said a voice, this was from Captain Sigourney, in his opposite corner. "I had to send off a telegraph at the last moment, and had no time to get a paper," explained that gentleman. Bevis stared, and gave him the paper without speaking; but the undaunted captain, who loved a listener, went on to state that he was anxious about the arrival of the South American mail. "I believe the French steamer comes in about this time?" he said, in an inquiring tone of voice. "Ah!" said Bevis, growing more and more reserved. Poor Sigourney's odd insinuating manner was certainly against him. "I shall probably have to telegraph again on the way," continued Sigourney, unabashed, as they neared Winchester. One thing struck Bevis oddly, which was this: When the guard at Winchester came to look at their tickets, his companion's was a return-ticket; and the poor young fellow having got a suspicious idea into his head, began to ask himself what possible object a man could have in travelling all this way down and back again in one day, and whether it would not be as well, under the circumstances, to change carriages, and get out of his way." Here, let me out," he cried to the guard; and, to his great relief, Sigourney made no opposition to this move on his part. "A fellow gets suspicious," said honest Bevis. "It is too bad. But I can't understand the fellow now. He seemed dodging me about. He had a return-ticket, too, and I only got away from him by 66 "But what does it all mean? 99 cried "This fire won't burn!" cried Mona. chance. I don't mind so much now that I have seen you,, little woman. Ephraim Bevis, in a fume. "What business has may have a dozen writs out against me, for Captain Sigourney with my safety ?" And all I know. I thought there was something it was only by degrees that he could be apuncomfortable about the man the moment peased at all. I saw him; and I asked the porter at the Foreign Office not to tell him anything about me." As Bevis went on with the account of his morning, my mistress and I had looked at one another and dimly begun to connect one thing and another in our minds. "I suppose I was mistaken," Bevis ended, shrugging his shoulders, since here I am. But if not to-day, he will have ine to-morrow. I only put off the evil day by running away. Well, I've brought back Jane's hundred pounds, and I have seen my little woman again, and the boy, and all of you, and now I don't care what hap- pens." 66 Hush," said Mrs. St. Julian: " my husband must help you. Your father has written to him. You should have come to us." "I believe I acted like a fool," said Beverley, penitently. "Perhaps, after all. I fancied things worse than they were. I couldn't bear to come sponging on St. Julian, I was indignant at something which my step-mother said, and—is Jane here, do you say?" We were all getting seriously uneasy. Lady Jane's maid brought in the telegram she had found in her room, which seemed to throw some vague light upon her move ments. CAPTAIN SIGOURNEY, Waterloo Station, to LADY JANE BEVERLEY, Tarmouth, Broadshire. I IMPLORE you to meet me at Tarmouth. I come by the four-o'clock boat. I have news of your brother. 66 (Signed) SIGOURNEY. Sigourney!" cried Bevis. There was a dead silence, and nobody knew exactly what to say next. All our anxiety and speculation were allayed before dinner by the return of the pony-carriage with a hasty note from Lady Jane herself: DEAREST MRS. ST. JULIAN,- Kind Captain Sigourney has been to London inquiring for us. He has heard confidentially, from a person at the Foreign Office, that my brother has been heard of by this mail. He thought it best to come to me straight, and I have decided to go off to London immediately. I shall probably find my father at home in Burton Street. I will write to-morrow. Fond love to dearest Emilia. Your affectionate, anxious JANE BEVERLEY. There is a little pine-wood growing not far from the Lodges, where Aileen and Mona sometimes boil a kettle and light a fire of dry sticks, twigs, and fir-cones. The pinewood runs up the side of a steep hill that leads to the down. In the hollow below lie bright pools glistening among wet mosses and fallen leaves and pine-twigs; but the abrupt sides of the little wood are dry and sandy, and laced and overrun by a network of slender roots that go spreading in every direction. In between the clefts and jagged fissures of the ground the sea shines, blue and gleaming, while the white ships, like birds, seem to slide in between the branches. The tea-party was in honour of Bevis's return, the little maidens said. They had transported cups and cloths, pats of butter and brown loaves, all of which good things were set out on a narrow ledge; while a little higher, the flames were sparkling, and a kettle hanging in the pretty thread of blue faint smoke. Mona, on her knees, was piling sticks and cones upon the fire ; Aileen was busy spreading her table; and little Bevis was trotting about picking up various little shreds and stones that took his fancy, and bringing them to poke into the bright little flame that was crackling and sparkling and growing every moment more bright. Bevis and Emilia were the hero and heroine of the entertainment. Hexham was fine, Aileen said, and would not take an interest, and so he was left with Hester pasting photographs in the dining-room, autumnal afternoon to camp in the copse. while the rest of us came off this bright The sun still poured unwearied over the seemed ending in light and brilliancy. It country, and the long delightful summer was during this picnic tea-drinking that I heard more than I had hitherto done of Mr. Beverley's adventures. "This kettle won't boil!" said Mona. And while Bevis was good-naturedly poking and stirring the flames, Emilia began in a low, frightened voice: "Oh, Queenie, even now I can hardly believe it. He has been telling me all about it. He finished his work sooner than he had expected. I think the poor General was shot with whom he was negotiating; at all events he found that there was nothing Your affectionate father, Jane is writing, so I send no message from II. more for him to do, and that he might as pleaded your cause so well that I cannot refuse well take his passage by the very next her. My lady desires her love. ship. And then, to pass the time, he went off with those other poor men for a couple of days' shooting, and then they met a drove of angry cattle swimming across the her. She arrived, poor girl, on Thursday in a stream, and they could not get out of the most distressed state of mind. I hope we shall way in time, and two were drowned," fal- see you here with your wife before long. tered Emilia; "but when dear Bevis came to himself, he had floated a long way down the stream. He had been unconscious, but bravely clinging to an oar all the time .. and then he scrambled on shore and wandered on till he got to a wooden house, belonging to two young men, who took him in, but he had had a blow on the head, and he was very ill for three days, and the steamer was gone when he got back to Rio- and that was how it was.' UNKNOWN FRIEND, Ch. Coll., Cambridge, to MY DEAR GEORGE, I have been expecting this letter ever since I received your last, from which, by the by, one page was missing. Farewell, Ó friend of my bachelorhood. Seriously, I must also beg to congratulate the future Mrs. long to see you, and to hear all about it. I Hexham upon having secured the affections of one of the best and truest-hearted of men. I have no doubt she fully deserves her good fortune. Ever, my dear fellow, affectionately yours, III. As she ceased she caught hold of little Bevis, who was trotting past her, and suddenly clutched him to her heart. How happy she was! a little frightened still, even in her great joy, but with smiles and MRS. WILLIAM ST. JULIAN Kensington Square, lights in her radiant face, — her very hair seemed shining as she sat under the pinetrees, sometimes looking up at her husband, or with proud eyes following Bevvy's little dumpling figure as he busily came and went. "Here is Hexham, after all," cried Bevis from the heights, looking down as he spoke, and Hexham's head appeared from behind a bank of moss and twigs. eried the "I to MRS. ST. JULIAN, Tarmouth. MY DEAREST MRS. ST. JULIAN,—I send this by William, who cannot rest until he has seen you all and told you how heartfelt are our sympathies and congratulations. How little we thought, as we drove off on Monday morning, of all that was at hand. It seems very unfeeling as I look back now. I shall feel quite nervous until William comes back, but he has promised to take a return-ticket to reassure me. "Why, what a capital gipsy photo-I am quite surprised by the news you send me graph you would all make, this morning of Hester's engagement. I always enthusiastic Hexham as he came up. had my own ideas, though I did not speak of them (we quiet people often see a good deal have brought you some letters. Hester is coming directly with William St. Julian, pected that Lady Jane would have been the lady. more than people imagine), and I quite exwho has just arrived." "I really don't think we can give you all cups," said Aileen, busily pouring from her boiling kettle into her teapot. "You know I didn't expect you." Bevis took all the letters and began to read them out: I. LORD MOUNTMORE to the HON. BEVIS BEVERLEY. However, it is much better as it is, and Mr Hexham is, I have no doubt, all you could wish for dear Hester. Do give my best and kindest congratulations to dear Emilia. How delighted she must have been to get the good news of her husband's safety. I hope it was not too much for her, excitement is very apt to knock one up. The children send a hundred loves and kisses. Believe me Your affectionate daughter, MARGARET ST. JULIAN. Friday. P.S.-I have had a visit from a very deMY DEAR BOY,-The news of your safe re-lightful Captain Sigourney. He called upon me turn from Rio has relieved us all from a most anxious state of mind. You have had a providential escape, upon which we most warmly and heartily congratulate you. With regard to the subject of your letter, I am willing to accede to your request, and to allow you once more the same sum that you have always had hitherto. I will also assist you to take up the bill, if you will give me your solemn promise never to have anything more to do with the Jews. Jane has to ask for news of you all. It seems he escorted Lady Jane to town, and that in consequence of information he had received at the Foreign Office he was able to be of great service to her, although the information afterwards turned out incorrect. A person there had assured him that Mr. Beverley had been in town some time, and had returned to South America for good. What strange reports get about! One should be very careful never to believe anybody. |