CHAPTER XI
AT MARSHLANDS AGAIN
"Each year to ancient friendships adds a ring, As to an oak, and precious more and more, Without deservingness, or help of ours They grow, and, silent, wider spread each year Their unbought ring of shelter or of shade."
I had so many visits to pay to various friends and relations of myfather, who took a kindly interest in my welfare, that it was not untilthe following Easter-time that I was able to accept Mrs. Winstanley'soft-repeated invitation that I should spend a second holiday atMarshlands. How familiar the dear little station looked as Cathy and Iturned out our numerous bags and packages upon the platform at Everton!The very porter knew me again, and greeted me with a grin of welcome;and every house, and tree, and bend of the road as we drove home throughthe village, felt to me like an old friend.
"Well, Miss Humming-bird, you have grown out of all knowledge!" said thesquire. "The gray pony is still at your service, and there's a nicelight little rod-and-line we could soon teach you to whip the streamwith. We'll make a sportswoman of you yet, I declare!"
Mrs. Winstanley welcomed me home equally with Cathy.
"I'm longing to see your Nature Note-Book," she said. "You must havemade many additions since last we met. The wild daffodils are out in theWyngates meadows, the herons are building in the wood by Carnton Fell,and I have found the remains of another stone circle on the moors, so weshall have plenty of objects for our walks."
To revisit all our old haunts was an immense delight. The rose-treewhich I had planted by Edward's arbour had grown into quite a largebush, the tempestuous poodle puppies had settled down into sober,steady-going, well-conducted dogs, which regarded with much disfavourthe harum-scarum ways of a youthful Skye terrier, which was the latestfavourite. Cathy had a fresh pony, a beautiful little chestnut calledSelim, which ran with Lady in the new phaeton, and the rock garden whichwe had made at the end of the shrubbery was flourishing in the mostsatisfactory manner.
I found the boys much changed. Edward was very tall, and had begun tospeak meditatively of Oxford. He still drawled a little, and fussedover his clothes, but he had taken keenly to politics, and airedsocialistic theories which he argued hotly with the squire. Dick hadgrown quite polite, comparatively speaking, and offered to teach megolf, but we had so many other occupations on hand that I never foundtime to learn. George had got over the stage of keeping white mice inhis pockets, and talked mostly about cricket; he was still at hispreparatory school, but he was to leave soon for a training-college forthe Navy. They were all as full of fun and chaff as ever, and laughedyet over the remembrance of our joke with the burglar.
Marshlands looked beautiful in the spring-time. The cherry orchards werein full blossom, the woods were tinged with the faintest of tendergreens, and we found violets in every hedgerow. It was early April, andthe distant fells were capped with snow, while the air had enough of anorthern chill in it to make quick walking a pleasure. We were close tothe lake country, on the borders of that mountain district where cragand moorland, pine-wood and tarn combine to make some of the mostglorious scenery in the British Isles. I have always had an extremelove for the hills, whether they were the rocky sierras of my childhood,or the rugged peaks of Cumberland. Once up on the slopes, with the freshwind blowing on your cheek, and the valley spread out like a map below,you feel as if you had left the cares of the world behind, and were in adifferent moral as well as physical atmosphere. If it is true that oursurroundings really have an effect upon our characters, I think thatthose who live on a mountain can never be quite so petty and mean-mindedas the dwellers in the plain beneath; something in the majesty of thosepeaks must surely draw them up, and lift their thoughts towards thatother world that is higher than ours.
The days were not half long enough for all our delightful projects. Mr.Winstanley had fulfilled his promise of teaching me to fish, and, armedwith the light rod-and-line, I industriously and laboriously whipped thestream; but I fear I was anything but a "compleat angler", for very fewof my contributions went to fill the baskets of silvery trout which theboys seemed to catch so cleverly.
"I'm afraid a fisherman is something like a poet, 'born, not made'," Isighed, as I watched Dick choose a fresh fly and secure a catch in thevery pool where I had tried for half an hour in vain.
"Oh, it's partly practice!" said Dick, "you'll get into it in time. It'srather slow work, though, and I'm jolly savage myself, sometimes, when Ican't get a bite, and feel inclined to agree with Dr. Johnson that afisherman is 'a worm at one end, and a fool at the other'. That old chapknew life! I'll tell you what; if the governor's willing, we'll get himto take us over for a day to Craigdale, and we'll have a boat and trysome sea-fishing. I dare say you'll get on better with the flukes andhaddock."
Good-natured Mr. Winstanley proved to be more than willing, so one sunnymorning we packed ourselves into the phaeton and dog-cart, and startedoff on the nine-mile drive to the little fishing-village which was ournearest point on the sea-coast. Craigdale seemed to be a mere handful ofwhitewashed cottages set in the midst of a sandy marsh, where hardysea-flowers were springing up and blooming on the wind-swept ridges, andterns and sand-pipers were darting here and there at the edge of thewaves, in chase of some detached limpet or scuttling crab. We put up thetraps at a small inn called the "Mermaid Arms", the sign-board of whichwas adorned with a most remarkable painting of a sea-maiden with fish'stail, comb and looking-glass, all complete, ready no doubt to bewitchtoo venturesome sailors to their doom. The stout, bustling landladyreadily agreed to provide us with the best she could muster at so shorta notice, and in a very brief time she had produced a smoking dish ofham and eggs, which with brown bread and Cumberland cream cheese wethought a fare not at all to be despised. We made quick work of ourlunch, however, being anxious to start off in the boat which was waitingfor us down by the jetty, where a bluff, jolly old fisherman was readywith bait and sea-lines. Strange to say, it was the first time I hadever been out in a rowing-boat. Although I had paid several visits tothe sea-side with Aunt Agatha and my cousins, we had generally kept tothe pier and promenade, and had never ventured upon the briny deep inanything of less size than an Isle of Wight steamer. It was a delightfulnovelty to find myself so close to the waves that I could hold my handin the rushing water, and could almost catch the long trails of sea-weedand the great jelly-fishes which floated every now and then past ourboat. We rowed out a short distance into the bay, and then cast anchor,as our boatmen assured us that it was a good spot to let down the lines,and we should be certain of having plenty of bites. There was a stiffbreeze blowing, and the white caps on the distant waves looked like wildsea-horses chasing each other over the foam; the tide was coming infast, and our boat swayed to and fro like a cork upon the heavy swell.
"Isn't it jolly?" said George; "I like to be 'rocked in the cradle ofthe deep'. I mean to be a sailor when I grow up; there's no life like 'alife on the ocean wave'. Hullo, Phil! You don't seem as though you wereenjoying yourself! Just look at her, Mater! Her face is the colour of aboiled turnip!"
I certainly was _not_ enjoying myself, for the horrible swinging motionhad brought on that peculiar complaint which the French call "mal demer", and I could only gasp out an entreaty to be taken back anywhere sothat I might find my feet upon dry land again.
"Bless the child! I didn't think such a little would upset her!" saidthe squire, whose own family were all excellent sailors. "Wind up thelines, and we'll row back to the jetty and land her. She'll have toamuse herself on the beach as best she can."
"You'll never make a fisherwoman after all!" laughed Dick, as he helpedme to jump out on to the narrow landing-place. "I vowed you should catchat least ten flukes this afternoon, and you've given in before you'vehad a single bite!"
"I don't care if I never see a fish again!" I said. "You're welcome tomy share of them all, and can eat them too, if you like. I'm only tooglad to be on terra firma once more, and I wouldn't stay in that littlewobbling cockle-shell any longer
if you were to offer me a five-poundnote for every fish I caught."
But though my fishing efforts had turned out such a disastrous failure,I found I got on much better with riding. Sometimes Cathy and I would goout on Selim and Lady, with the squire or one of the boys on Captain,and then I thought nothing could equal the joy of the brisk canter overthe moors, with the dogs racing behind us, and the screaming sea-birdsflying away in front. It was delightful to feel the quick motion of thepony under me, as we rapidly covered the ground; and I improved so muchthat Mr. Winstanley declared he would make a horsewoman of me in theend, and that I should follow the hounds next time I came in the huntingseason.
Perhaps of all our expeditions I enjoyed our walks the most. To rambleabout the lanes and fields in search of nests or wild flowers was to mealways an endless pleasure. Finding that I had never picked wilddaffodils before, Cathy suggested one morning that we should walk toWyngates, where they grew so lavishly that the marshy meadows wereliterally yellow with them. So with our baskets on our arms, and the newSkye terrier for company, we started off in high spirits. Our way led upa steep lane, the sloping banks of which were spangled with primrosesand celandine, while the rough-built walls at the top gave a hold totrailing honeysuckle, ivy, and hazel bushes. It was a grand place forbirds' nests, and we made very slow progress as we poked about, peeringinto every likely-looking spot. Cathy, through long experience, was muchmore clever at discovering them than I, and while she found threethrushes', a wren's, and two chaffinches', my efforts were only rewardedby a solitary hedge-sparrow's. I had had a kodak for my last birthdaypresent, and I was very anxious to take some snap-shots of the youngbirds in their nests, fired thereto by the beautiful nature photographsI had seen in the illustrated papers. With a good deal of climbing anddifficulty I managed to secure various views of Mrs. Thrush at home,Mrs. Chaffinch's nursery, and the five Miss Hedge-sparrows clamouringfor a meal. I used a whole spool of films over them, only to find, whenwith Dick's assistance I developed them afterwards, that my littlecamera was not intended for such near distances, and my pictures were sohopelessly out of focus that they were utterly spoilt.
"It's an awful sell, and you've wasted a dozen films," said Dick. "Ibelieve you ought to have a special lens for these nature dodges. Yourkodak won't take nearer than seven feet off. Never mind, the ones of theMater and the house and the village are stunning, and you'll get somegood snap-shots when we go over Carnton Fell to the sheep-counting."
But to return to our walk. Leaving the lane and the birds' nests behind,we were soon on the open moor, with the brown of last year's heatheraround us, and the gorse in brilliant patches of gold scenting the airwith its faint peachy smell. Innumerable little mountain springs crossedour path, cutting channels through the peat, and overhung withlady-fern and sedges, and here and there among the furze the shoots ofthe young bracken were springing green. We cut down a deep gorge intothe valley, following the course of a swift stream which was descendingwith much noise to join the river, and found ourselves at last on a kindof rushy marshland, where deep dykes and high banks told a tale offlooded meadows in winter. It might aptly have been called "The Field ofthe Cloth of Gold", for the daffodils were growing in such endlessprofusion that one could have picked for a week without stopping. Ifilled my basket with infinite satisfaction, and sat down on an oldpoplar stump to wait for Cathy, who thought she had discovered some newsnail-shells in the brook.
"What's that house up there?" I asked, pointing to a gray old Tudorbuilding which stood on the side of the crag above, looking down overthe valley towards the dim line of the distant sea.
"Oh, that's Wyngates," said Cathy, pulling herself up the bank with herhands full of treasures. "It's such a dear old place! Would you like togo and see it? Nobody lives there now, and I know the care-taker. Ialways think it is such fun to explore an empty house."
I had not been over an untenanted home before, so I jumped at theopportunity, and we climbed up the hill-side again to a little iron gatewhich opened through the hedge from the fields. We found ourselves in anold-world garden such as I had never even imagined. The tall yew hedgeshad been clipped smooth, with here and there a small window cut in themthrough which the distant landscape appeared like a picture set in aframe. At either end the trees were fashioned into quaintshapes--peacocks with spreading tails, cocked hats, or ramping lions,all getting a little straggling and untended, but adding a verypicturesque feature to the scene. There was a long flagged terrace, withdandelions pushing up between the stones, and roses, grown almost wild,climbing in glorious profusion over the balustrade, while a flight ofsteps led down to the ladies' pleasaunce, where the narrow grass walkswere bordered with box-edgings, and pink daisies and forget-me-nots weretrying to struggle through the weeds in the neglected beds. In thecentre was a sun-dial with twisted shaft, and an inscription round thecapital. We rubbed away the moss which covered the worn letters, andspelt out the words, written in old English characters:
"NESCIES + QUA + HORA + VIGILA",
which we were not Latin scholars enough at the time to be able totranslate, but which I afterwards learnt meant "Thou knowest not at whathour. Watch!" I wondered, as I looked, how many footsteps, in thecenturies that had fled, had passed up and down that terraced walk, andhow many quaint little maidens as young and gay as we, had come to tellthe time by that dial, and had read that same motto, "wrought in deaddays by men a long while dead". The blossom from the almond-tree abovefell on us like pink snow, and a thrush in the lilac bush was rufflingevery feather on his little throat in the rapture of his spring song.
"If I could choose any spot in the world I wished, I think I should cometo live here," I said, with a long sigh of content as I looked over thesweet-brier fence down the valley to where in the distance gleamed thebay, a faint gray streak against a patch of yellow sand, with theoutline of the fells rising up misty and blue behind. Cathy smiled.
"You haven't seen the house yet," she said. "You couldn't live only in agarden."
"I should like to," I replied. "I'd any time rather have a cottage witha beautiful garden, than the most splendid mansion without one. I thinkout-of-doors is so much nicer than indoors. Perhaps it's my bringing up.In San Carlos we lived mostly in the verandah and on the terrace."
The house proved to be a quaint old stone manor, not large, and quiteunpretentious, the kind of dwelling that was built in days gone by forthe younger sons of gentry, who farmed a little land, and rode tohounds. Cathy begged the key from the care-taker at the lodge, and wewandered round the panelled rooms, wondering at the black oak beams ofthe ceilings, and the delightful ingle-nooks of the wide old-fashionedfireplaces.
"How splendid they would look full of blazing logs!" said Cathy. "Theseold walls ought to be hung with garlands of holly and mistletoe. Itwould just be the place for a Christmas party."
One room especially fascinated me. It was a small chamber half-way upthe stairs, built above the porch, with a large mullioned window fromwhich one looked out over the garden to the very limit of the horizon.The chimney-piece was richly carved, and panelled with coats of arms,but the central panel was occupied by a small oil-painting of a laughinggirl, with lace ruffles and flowered bodice, whose fair hair fell inloose curls over her neck and shoulders. So lifelike was the portrait,that for a moment I felt as if the parted red lips were about to speak,and almost waited for the words, while the bright eyes seemed to lookout from the wall as if they were following us round the room. In theextreme right-hand corner of the picture was painted the name: "PhilippaLovell".
"Who is she?" said Cathy, in response to my eager enquiries. "Why, theLovells were a very old family who lived here in the time of the civilwars. Her father was for the King, but her only brother had declared forCromwell and the Parliament. They met in battle at Naseby, and bothfell, each fighting bravely for his own opinions. So the girl was thelast of the race. She was a ward of Charles II, and he married her toone of his favourites, who cared for nothing but her lands and hermoney. She wa
s miserable and ill at the London court, and at last shegot leave to return to Cumberland; but it was too late, for she onlycame home to die. You can see her monument in the church, next to thatof her father and brother; the Lovell coat of arms hangs over them all,and the words 'Sic transit gloria mundi'."
So this was the story of my poor little namesake. Her smiles had indeedsoon been changed into tears, and very sad eyes must have looked outfrom the mullioned window to the distant sea. I felt as if the room werestill occupied by her memory, and I closed the door almost reverently asI went out, murmuring to myself those lines from Longfellow:--
"We have no title-deeds to house or lands; Owners and occupants of earlier dates From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands, And hold in mortmain still their old estates".
CHAPTER XII
THE _IGNACIA_
"These are thy wonders, Lord of power, Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell And up to heaven in an hour; Making a chiming of a passing bell."
My long separation from my father was at length drawing to a close. Hespoke hopefully of his return to England, and even named the vessel inwhich he intended to take his passage. "Shall I find my girl muchaltered, I wonder?" he wrote. "Taller, no doubt, and I hope wiser, butin heart just the same as when she left me, and with as tender a corneras ever for her poor old dad." I made so many plans for Father's return.All my best sketches and collections were put by to show to him, and Itoiled hard at music, so that he might not be disappointed with myplaying. I thought how I would introduce Cathy to him, and how much hewould admire her, and how perhaps we could go and stay somewhere nearMarshlands in the holidays, so that he could see all the Winstanleystogether. I imagined him coming to our Mid-summer breaking-up party, andhow proud and happy I should be to have him there. It was an annualoccasion to which the parents and friends of the girls were invited, andI had often felt, with a little pang, when I saw the warm greetingsbetween others, that it seemed hard to have no one there to love mespecially above everyone else. At last I was to have my own dear one allto myself, and I counted the days till his return, crossing each off onthe calendar when I went to bed at night, and thinking that I was oneday nearer to our meeting. Now that his arrival seemed so close, I wasfull of impatience, and felt that the time would scarcely pass, and Iwondered sometimes how I had managed to live through those five longyears without him.
He was to sail in the _Ignacia_, a Spanish vessel bound for London, andthe steamer was cabled to have started on her voyage. Each night Ithought of Father tossing on the ocean, and each morning when I awoke, Ipictured him a little nearer to me than when I had fallen asleep. I wasso excited I could scarcely attend to my lessons, and the teachers,knowing my story, did not press me too hard. And so the weeks passed by,and the great day of my happiness drew near.
I was sitting one afternoon at my drawing class. It was early June, andthe windows were wide open, letting in the fragrant scent of the lilacand hawthorn from the garden below, and the imperative song of achaffinch to his mate in the elm-tree close by. Sometimes, in memory ofgreater events, little incidents make a great impression upon one'smind. I can recall every line of the Italian boy's head which I wascopying, and the sound of the scratch of Janet's pencil, as shelaboriously shaded a chalk study. I felt unusually restless anddisinclined to apply myself to my work. The air was heavy and still,there was a grumble of thunder in the distance, and the silence of theroom broken only by an occasional criticism from the master, as hecorrected our drawings, grew almost unbearable. Gathering clouds werealready darkening the sky, and threatened a storm, and a vagueforeboding of evil seemed to come over my mind, dulling the keen edge ofmy happiness. Does some subtle instinct, as yet neither known norunderstood, warn us when those we hold dear are in peril? Does our loveset in motion unseen waves of sympathy, so that the heart feels themessage which has not yet been told in words? I think so; for when thedoor opened and Miss Wilton entered, I knew before she spoke that shehad come for me. There was an unwonted pity and kindness in her voice asshe quietly ordered me to leave my drawing, and come to Mrs. Marshall.With trembling fingers I put away my pencils and obeyed. She took myhand, and led me silently downstairs. There was a sound of voices in thedrawing-room, and Aunt Agatha was there, seated on the sofa. She hadbeen crying, and she rose quickly when I entered. Mrs. Marshall put herarm round my neck and kissed me, but said nothing.
"Philippa dear," said my aunt, with more tenderness than I had evergiven her credit for, "can you bear me to tell you some very bad news?"
I could not speak. A great fear rose in my heart, and almost choked me.My speechless lips framed the one question: "Father?"
"He is not come yet. He will be a long time coming. Oh! my poor child,he will _never_ come! The _Ignacia_ has gone down with all hands onboard."
I would pass over the first outbreak of my grief, for it is so black aremembrance, such a thickness of utter darkness and despair, that thevery memory of it hurts. I begged to be allowed to remain at school.Many kind friends wished me to visit them, but I felt that to plungemyself more than ever into my lessons and the coming examinations wasthe only way to dull the keen edge of the sorrow that was wounding me sosorely. Mrs. Marshall agreed with me, and by keeping my time most fullyoccupied did me the truest kindness that in the circumstances she wasable to perform. A kind of dull passiveness came over me, which theymistook for resignation. They thought I was beginning to forget, butthere are some sorrows which never really die, however deeply we mayseek to bury them, and every now and then my grief would awaken withrenewed force. The summer term dragged on towards its close. How Idreaded the breaking-up party, with all its festivities! I wished Icould go away before it, though I did not like to ask to do so. Theexaminations were over, and I stood high in my class, but my successgave me no pleasure. What was the use of doing well, I thought bitterly,when my father was not there to rejoice over it! I felt so unutterablysolitary and alone in the world, and even Cathy's love and the manythoughtful kindnesses of my friends could not make up to me for thatgreatest of all losses.
The day of the party at last arrived. How different from anything I hadplanned! I set out my white dress and black sash with a sigh. Cathy, whowas watching me with anxious eyes, tried to talk about home, for I wasreturning to Marshlands with her for part of the holidays, and Janet,too, did her best to give the conversation a hopeful turn.
"This visitor's arriving early," said Millicent, who was leaning out ofmy window, looking down the drive, as a cab drew up at the front-door."It's a gentleman," she announced, standing back a little behind thecurtain, so as not to be seen, "I don't know who he is. One of Mrs.Marshall's friends, I suppose. Do you want to peep, Phil?"
I felt no interest in the guests of the evening, however, and I had noteven the curiosity to look out. We heard a slight bustle of arrivaldownstairs, and I did not give the matter another thought. But a shorttime afterwards Lucy came running into our bedroom with a look ofpeculiar excitement on her face.
"You're wanted, Philippa, in the drawing-room," she said. Then, puttingher hand over her mouth, as though to stop herself from saying more, shedarted suddenly away. It was so unusual, and so utterly unlike Lucy'sordinary behaviour, that I was completely puzzled. I went down to thedrawing-room with a beating heart. It somehow made me think of thatother time when I had been summoned there. Mrs. Marshall was standingnear the window with a newspaper in her hand. She looked strangelymoved.
"Philippa," she said slowly, "the newspapers are not always correct,after all. We should be very careful before we believe everything theytell us." I looked full into her eyes, to learn the sequel. "Sometimes,"she continued, "they give us good news which is never fulfilled, andsometimes they tell us of bad news which has not really occurred. Itoccasionally happens that when a ship goes down, all do not perish. Afew manage to escape in boats, and are picked up by chance steamers, andthen they come home again to those who love them. There was a vesselcalled the _Ignacia_----"
But here my patience broke down, and I gasped out: "Oh, Mrs. Marshall,tell me quick! quick! Is he----?" I did not dare to ask the questionoutright. My very life seemed to depend upon the reply.
The door of the conservatory suddenly opened, a tall bronzed figurerushed into the room, and the next moment I was clasped close in myfather's arms. Mrs. Marshall went out very softly, and left us together.
Father told me his story afterwards. How a terrible storm had driven the_Ignacia_ many hundreds of miles north of her course; how the ship hadsprung a leak, and how he and a few others had escaped in one of theboats. What a fearful time they had had tossing for days and days on arough sea, without food and water; and how, just when they were givingup hope, they had been rescued by a whaling vessel, bound for the northof Greenland, which had been obliged to continue its voyage, and had nottouched at any port where he could telegraph until it finally arrived atGlasgow! Then he had come straight to The Hollies, to bring me the goodnews himself.
Oh, what a breaking-up party it was for me! With what a different heartI put on the white dress (with a pink sash instead of a black one), andstood by Father's side in the reception-room! He kissed Lucy and Maryand my dear Cathy, who was nearly crying for joy, and had a heartyhand-shake for each of my companions.
"I know them all from your letters," he said. "And I should like tothank them for being so good to my little girl. We're very happy andgrateful to-night, and not the least part of it is to see so manyfriends ready to share in our rejoicing."
The visitors soon learned the story, and nearly every one had a kindword for me, even Miss Percy, who had come as a guest, kissed me warmlyon the cheek, and wished me joy.
"You won't go back to San Carlos, Father?" I cried, when at last I hadhim all to myself.
"Never again, my darling. We sha'n't be parted any more. I've resignedthe consulate, and sold the plantations, and mean to settle down in OldEngland now, with you for my little housekeeper in course of time. Afterall, there's no country like one's own, and whatever attractions onefinds abroad, one is always longing for a whiff of one's native air."
As I write these last lines I look out through the mullioned window overthe quaint old-world garden to a line of golden sand and a distantstreak of silver sea, for my wildest dreams are realized: Father hastaken Wyngates, and the deserted house, where Cathy and I wandered onthat spring morning, is now my home. The large fireplaces blaze with themost hospitable of log fires; the clipped yew hedges are neatly trimmed;the beds are gay with flowers, and I have planted a border of whitelilies round the sun-dial in the ladies' pleasaunce. Philippa Lovell'sroom is my special sanctum, where I keep my books and my work, and herlaughing face smiles down upon me as if she were glad that young lifehas returned to the old place once more. The Winstanleys are our dearestfriends, and very few days pass without a meeting between us. Cathy andI have just left school, and I am settling down in dead earnest tomaster the mysteries of housekeeping, and to supply to my father thatdear place which my mother left empty long ago. We do not want tofritter away our lives in that aimless fashion which girls sometimes dowhen school-days are over, and we have many plans for our own and thevillage improvement. Strange to say, Edward, just through college, ishere at one with us. He has forgotten his dandy ways, and his drawl, andis the foremost in organizing a Boys' Brigade, or running areading-room, qualifying, as Dick irreverently puts it, for a"thorough-going out-and-out kind of a parson chap". George is at sea,and, from the accounts of his adventures, the ringleader of a livelycrew of harum-scarum middies, whose escapades outrival even the prankswhich he and Dick played long ago. His great desire seems to be that awar should break out to give him an opportunity of displaying hiscourage.
I love Wyngates with my whole heart; no spot on earth seems morebeautiful to me, and I would not change its hills and its fresh breezesfor all the brightness of southern skies. Our old home and all itsassociations are not forgotten, however, for Juanita, now married toPedro, sends us kindly messages from her orange-farm on the sierras, andTasso, whose devotion to my father led him to follow him over the seas,is with us now, the most faithful of servants and the staunchest offriends.
With those I hold dearest near me, my cup of happiness seems full, andmy father says that the little foreign plant which he sent over so longago to harden in our gray northern clime has taken root, and changedfrom a tropical blossom into an English rose.
Transcriber's Notes:
Punctuation has been standardised. Hyphenation and spelling has beenretained as in the original publication except the following:
Page 48 but the loudest and noisest _changed to_ but the loudest and noisiest
Page 107 familar figure of Britannia _changed to_ familiar figure of Britannia
Page 111 addresed the envelope on _changed to_ addressed the envelope on
Page 143 seeing their little signorita _changed to_ seeing their little signorina
Page 144 gods into our new quarters _changed to_ goods into our new quarters
Page 206 Possibly some letters, maybe 'd after soon, have not been included in "visitors soon learned the story"
The Fortunes of Philippa: A School Story Page 12