CHAPTER XIX
INSIDE THE CHANNEL
That little incident threw some light upon Major Hockin's character. Itwas not for himself alone that he was so particular, or, as many wouldcall it, fidgety, to have every thing done properly; for if any thingcame to his knowledge which he thought unfair to any one, it concernedhim almost as much as if the wrong had been done to his own home self.Through this he had fallen into many troubles, for his impressions werenot always accurate; but they taught him nothing, or rather, as his wifesaid, "the Major could not help it." The leading journals of the variousplaces in which Major Hockin sojourned had published his letters ofgrievances sometimes, in the absence of the chief editor, and hadsuffered in purse by doing so. But the Major always said, "Ventilate it,ventilate the subject, my dear Sir; bring public opinion to bear on it."And Mrs. Hockin always said that it was her husband to whom belongedthe whole credit of this new and spirited use of the fine word"ventilation."
As betwixt this faithful pair, it is scarcely needful perhaps to saythat the Major was the master. His sense of justice dictated that, aswell as his general briskness. Though he was not at all like Mr. Gundryin undervaluing female mind, his larger experience and more frequentintercourse with our sex had taught him to do justice to us; and it waspleasant to hear him often defer to the judgment of ladies. But thishe did more, perhaps, in theory than in practice; yet it made all theladies declare to one another that he was a perfect gentleman. And sohe was, though he had his faults; but his faults were such as we approveof.
But Mrs. Hockin had no fault in any way worth speaking of. And whatevershe had was her husband's doing, through her desire to keep up with him.She was pretty, even now in her sixtieth year, and a great deal prettierbecause she never tried to look younger. Silver hair, and gentle eyes,and a forehead in which all the cares of eight children had scarcelyimprinted a wrinkle, also a kind expression of interest in whatever wasspoken of, with a quiet voice and smile, and a power of not saying toomuch at a time, combined to make this lady pleasant.
Without any fuss or declaration, she took me immediately under her care;and I doubt not that, after two years passed in the society of Suan Iscoand the gentle Sawyer, she found many things in me to amend, whichshe did by example and without reproof. She shielded me also in thecleverest way from the curiosity of the saloon, which at first wasvery trying. For the Bridal Veil being a well-known ship both for swiftpassages and for equipment, almost every berth was taken, and whenthe weather was calm, quite a large assembly sat down to dinner. Amongthese, of course, were some ill-bred people, and my youth and reserveand self-consciousness, and so on, made my reluctant face the mark formany a long and searching gaze. My own wish had been not to dine thus inpublic; but hearing that my absence would only afford fresh grounds forcuriosity, I took my seat between the Major and his wife, the formerhaving pledged himself to the latter to leave every thing to hermanagement. His temper was tried more than once to its utmost--which wasnot a very great distance--but he kept his word, and did not interfere;and I having had some experience with Firm, eschewed all perceptionof glances. And as for all words, Mrs. Hockin met them with an obtuseobliqueness; so that after a day or two it was settled that nothingcould be done about "Miss Wood."
It had been a very sore point to come to, and cost an unparalleled shedof pride, that I should be shorn of two-thirds of my name, and called"Miss Wood," like almost anybody else. I refused to entertain such avery poor idea, and clung to the name which had always been mine--formy father would never depart from it--and I even burst into tears, whichwould, I suppose, be called "sentimental;" but still the stern factstared me in the face--I must go as "Miss Wood," or not go at all. Uponthis Major Hockin had insisted; and even Colonel Gundry could not movehim from his resolution.
Uncle Sam had done his utmost, as was said before, to stop me fromwishing to go at all; but when he found my whole heart bent upon it, andeven my soul imperiled by the sense of neglecting life's chief duty, hisown stern sense of right came in and sided with my prayers to him.And so it was that he let me go, with pity for my youth and sex, but aknowledge that I was in good hands, and an inborn, perhaps "Puritanical"faith, that the Lord of all right would see to me.
The Major, on the other hand, had none of this. He differed from UncleSam as much as a trim-cut and highly cultured garden tree differs from agreat spreading king of the woods. He was not without a strict sense ofreligion, especially when he had to march men to church; and he nevereven used a bad word, except when wicked facts compelled him. Whenproperly let alone, and allowed to nurse his own opinions, he had arespectable idea that all things were certain to be ordered for thebest; but nothing enraged him so much as to tell him that when thingswent against him, or even against his predictions.
It was lucky for me, then, that Major Hockin had taken a most adverseview of my case. He formed his opinions with the greatest haste, andwith the greatest perseverance stuck to them; for he was the mostgenerous of mankind, if generous means one quite full of his genus. Andin my little case he had made up his mind that the whole of the factswere against me. "Fact" was his favorite word, and one which he alwaysused with great effect, for nobody knows very well what it means, as itdoes not belong to our language. And so when he said that the facts wereagainst me, who was there to answer that facts are not truth?
This fast-set conclusion of his was known to me not through himself,but through his wife. For I could not yet bring myself to speak of thethings that lay close at my heart to him, though I knew that he must beaware of them. And he, like a gentleman, left me to begin. I could oftensee that he was ready and quite eager to give me the benefit of hisopinion, which would only have turned me against him, and irritated him,perhaps, with me. And having no home in England, or, indeed, I mightsay, any where, I was to live with the Major and his wife, supposingthat they could arrange it so, until I should discover relatives.
We had a long and stormy voyage, although we set sail so fairly; and Ithought that we never should round Cape Horn in the teeth of the furiousnortheast winds; and after that we lay becalmed, I have no idea in whatlatitude, though the passengers now talked quite like seamen, at leasttill the sea got up again. However, at last we made the English Channel,in the dreary days of November, and after more peril there than anywhere else, we were safely docked at Southampton. Here the Major was metby two dutiful daughters, bringing their husbands and children, and Isaw more of family life (at a distance) than had fallen to my lot toobserve before; and although there were many little jars and brawls andcuts at one another, I was sadly inclined to wish sometimes for somebrothers and sisters to quarrel with.
But having none to quarrel with, and none to love, except good Mrs.Hockin, who went away by train immediately, I spent such a wretched timein that town that I longed to be back in the Bridal Veil in the veryworst of weather. The ooze of the shore and the reek of the water, andthe dreary flatness of the land around (after the glorious heaven-cladheights, which made me ashamed of littleness), also the rough, stupidstare of the men, when I went about as an American lady may freely do inAmerica, and the sharpness of every body's voice (instead of the genialtones which those who can not produce them call "nasal," but which froma higher view are cordial)--taken one after other, or all together,these things made me think, in the first flush of thought, that Englandwas not a nice country. After a little while I found that I had been agreat deal too quick, as foreigners are with things which require quietcomprehension. For instance, I was annoyed at having a stupid womanput over me, as if I could not mind myself--a cook, or a nurse, orhousekeeper, or something very useful in the Hockin family, but to me amere incumbrance, and (as I thought in my wrath sometimes) a spy.What was I likely to do, or what was any one likely to do to me, ina thoroughly civilized country, that I could not even stay in privatelodgings, where I had a great deal to think of, without this dullcreature being forced upon me? But the Major so ordered it, and I gavein.
There I must have staid for the slowest thre
e mouths ever passed withoutslow starvation finishing my growth, but not knowing how to "form mymind," as I was told to do. Major Hockin came down once or twice to seeme, and though I did not like him, yet it was almost enough to make medo so to see a little liveliness. But I could not and would not putup with a frightful German baron of music, with a polished card like atoast-rack, whom the Major tried to impress on me. As if I could stop totake music lessons!
"Miss Wood," said Major Hockin, in his strongest manner, the last timehe came to see me, "I stand to you in loco parentis. That means, withthe duties, relationships, responsibilities, and what not, of theunfortunate--I should say rather of the beloved--parent deceased. I wishto be more careful of you than of a daughter of my own--a great dealmore careful, ten times, Miss Wood; I may say a thousand times morecareful, because you have not had the discipline which a daughter ofmine would have enjoyed. And you are so impulsive when you take anidea! You judge every body by your likings. That leads to error, error,error."
"My name is not Miss Wood," I answered; "my name is 'Erema Castlewood.'Whatever need may have been on board ship for nobody knowing who I am,surely I may have my own name now."
When any body says "surely," at once up springs a question; nothingbeing sure, and the word itself at heart quite interrogative. The Majorknew all those little things which manage women so manfully. So he tookme by the hand and led me to the light and looked at me.
I had not one atom of Russian twist or dyed China grass in my hair, noreven the ubiquitous aid of horse and cow; neither in my face or figurewas I conscious of false presentment. The Major was welcome to lead meto the light and to throw up all his spectacles and gaze with all hiseyes. My only vexation was with myself, because I could not keep theweakness--which a stranger should not see--out of my eyes, upon suddenremembrance who it was that used to have the right to do such things tome. This it was, and nothing else, that made me drop my eyes, perhaps.
"There, there, my dear!" said Major Hockin, in a softer voice thanusual. "Pretty fit you are to combat with the world, and defy the world,and brave the world, and abolish the world--or at least the world'sopinion! 'Bo to a goose,' you can say, my dear; but no 'bo' to a gander.No, no; do quietly what I advise--by-the-bye, you have never asked myadvice."
I can not have been hypocritical, for of all things I detest that most;but in good faith I said, being conquered by the Major's relaxation ofhis eyes,
"Oh, why have you never offered it to me? You knew that I never couldask for it."
For the moment he looked surprised, as if our ideas had gone crosswise;and then he remembered many little symptoms of my faith in his opinions;which was now growing inevitable, with his wife and daughters, and manygrandchildren--all certain that he was a Solomon.
"Erema," he said, "you are a dear good girl, though sadly, sadlyromantic. I had no idea that you had so much sense. I will talk withyou, Erema, when we both have leisure."
"I am quite at leisure, Major Hockin," I replied, "and only too happy tolisten to you."
"Yes, yes, I dare say. You are in lodgings. You can do exactly as youplease. But I have a basin of ox-tail soup, a cutlet, and a woodcockwaiting for me at the Cosmopolitan Hotel. Bless me! I am five minuteslate already. I will come and have a talk with you afterward."
"Thank you," I said; "we had better leave it. It seems of no importance,compared--compared with--"
"My dinner!" said the Major; but he was offended, and so was I a little,though neither of us meant to vex the other.
Erema; Or, My Father's Sin Page 19