CHAPTER XIII.
DELIA SLEEPER’S SHIP COMES IN.
Becky received the warm thanks and congratulations of the happy motherand son with a grateful heart. She had been enabled to repay, in somepart, the love and care they had bestowed upon her. She had conqueredthe stubborn father, and lifted the cross from the shoulders of thepatient wife. But she felt that she had been but an instrument shapedby their hands for the work, and to them she unselfishly gave thecredit of her triumph. Not all, however; one other, who had been hercounsellor and guide; one to whom all her thoughts and actions hadbeen confessed; one who, with almost supernatural wisdom had taughther wayward feet to tread the path of duty; who out of her own needs,had sought peace in the boundless love of a heavenly Father, and hadbrought her child into the same tender embrace,--the stricken mother,who for two long years, helpless upon her bed, had borne all so meeklyand patiently; to her the grateful daughter gave a generous share ofthe glory which surrounded this unexpected reconciliation.
That night mother and daughter shared the same couch. Aunt Hulda,who had a great antipathy to strange beds, banished herself from heraccustomed pillow without a word of complaint, glad to make the child,who had wound herself about the queer spinster as no other had everbeen able to, happy at any cost. Alone with her mother, Becky’s tongueflew fast and furious with the recital of her wanderings and workings,until the weariness of the long, strange day overpowered her nimbleorgan of speech. In the middle of a sentence, she dropped asleep, hermother’s hand fast clasped in hers, all forgotten, even her accustomedprayer unspoken. But it lay there in the warm, beating, affectionateheart, and the mother’s lips bore it to the heavenly throne, joined toher own earnest plea that blessings from the Unseen hand might strewthe path of life with much of happiness for her own precious child.
Having eased his unhappy conscience of the heavy load it had borneso long, the conquered captain went home in a dazed sort of amazementat the act which he had committed. He could not regret it, would nothave recalled his words had he the power. There was a warming up of hisstubborn spirit when he thought of the girl who had so craftily spreadfor him the net in which he had been captured, but no desire to loosehis bonds, and escape. It was all for the best; they would be a happyfamily after the first meeting. But the first meeting bothered thecaptain. What could he say to this son who had been shut out from homeso many years? It was a serious question, and one he could not readilyanswer. He went home thinking about it: went to bed, still thinking;and at last fell asleep, to dream of it.
Mrs. Thompson came home, escorted to her door by Harry; said “Goodnight,” with a happy heart,--it was to be their last parting in thisstrange manner; was not surprised to find her husband missing when sheentered the sitting-room, nor surprised to find him snoring when sheentered the sleeping-room, but had a quiet laugh to herself as shethought how ashamed the captain tried to appear of his good actions.She would not disturb him for the world; said nothing to him of thelast night’s work, the next morning, as he fidgeted at the breakfasttable, and looked everywhere but in her face.
The captain did not leave the house, but gave his whole attention tothe preparation of the speech with which he was to meet his long-absentson. On one thing he was determined--he would be a father still. He hadbeen disobeyed; it was for the son to ask pardon. He would be cool,dignified, collected. He watched the bridge road uneasily. At half pasteight he saw Becky leave the gate with her school-books in her hands,and after came Harry. He left the window at once. It was coming; itwould soon be over. He sat on the sofa, covered his eyes with his hand,and waited. He did not need to look--he felt their coming. Now theywere on the bridge; now they had passed the school-house, were crossingthe road, were at the door. Yes, a ring! Mrs. Thompson rose from herchair, looked at her husband, with his face hidden, smiled, and passedinto the entry. Be a man, captain; be a father, cool, dignified,collected! The door opened; the captain rose to his feet.
“Good morning, captain. Here I am, and here’s Harry.” Becky Sleeper’svoice.
He looked at her smiling face, beyond her to the manly form of his son,advancing with outstretched hand, then grasped that hand, and shook itwith nervous energy.
“Harry, my boy, welcome home. I have been a poor father to you. Forgiveand try me again!”
He burst into tears, and sobbed like a child. The hard heart wasmelted, and the cool, collected, dignified plans, on which he had somuch depended, were dissipated at the touch of Nature.
Mrs. Thompson quietly drew Becky into the dining-room, and shutthe door, leaving father and son to become better acquainted. Theconference was so long that Becky slipped out of the side door, fearfulof being late to school, after a promise given to Mrs. Thompson thatshe would come in and take tea with the reunited family. She kepther promise, and had the satisfaction of seeing Harry in his rightplace, the captain in a jovial fit of good nature, and Mrs. Thompson’shandsome face radiant with the warm glow of a contented heart.
The captain was not quite content with this quiet reconciliation, butmust kill the fatted calf in honor of his son’s return; and threedays afterwards the good people of Cleverly were surprised by theintelligence that the Thompsons were to give a party.
And such a party! The Thompson mansion was lighted from bottom to top,and along the entire reach of the various outbuildings, the treeswere hung with lanterns. A blaze of light outside, a scene of joyousfestivity within. Nobody was forgotten. Parson Arnold, in clericalblack and white, with his wife in a new silk dress,--the gift of Mrs.Thompson,--benignly circulated among their flock. Mr. Drinkwater wasthere, crowding Deacon Proctor into a corner, with the discussion ofa theological point. Poor Mr. York was there, with a feeble cough,and dilated nostrils eagerly sniffing the air, as the door of thedining-room occasionally opened, while his buxom wife was busily atwork with Silly, in the kitchen; and little Jenny York was there,perched on the arm of a sofa, drinking in with rare delight all thisflow of mirth, and light, and gay attire, and pleasant conversation.The scholars, dressed in their best, played and romped about themany-roomed mansion to their hearts’ content. And Teddy, the captain’sfavorite, dressed in a new suit,--his patron’s gift,--proudly movedamong the company, with his sister on his arm. And Becky--light andjoyous Becky--was the queen; everywhere she met smiles and kind wordsof congratulation, for, somehow, her share in the bringing about ofthis happy night had been noised abroad, and all were anxious to do herhonor. A dozen times that night Captain Thompson had clasped her hand.
“It’s all your work, Becky!”
A dozen times the face of Harry Thompson had beamed upon her, “Thanksto you, Becky!” And every look of the happy mother, as she moved amongher guests, was a silent prayer of thankfulness to Becky.
It was a gay night for Cleverly; and when the door of the dining-roomwas thrown open, and the guests assembled about the tables,--whosecrooked legs seemed ready to snap under their burdens of good cheer,--anight of feasting such as Cleverly had never before witnessed.
At this stage of the proceedings, Teddy, dazzled by the tempting arrayof edibles, quite forgot his gallantry, and slipping from Becky’sside, went in pursuit of a far-off frozen pudding. His place wasquickly supplied by Harry Thompson.
“Well, pet, enjoying yourself, I hope.”
“Enjoying myself! Why, Harry, I never was so happy in all mylife--never!”
“I have a message for you from a dear friend--Alice Parks.”
“Indeed! Have you heard from her lately?”
“Yes, I received a letter from her to-day; and it’s so full of praisesof one Becky Sleeper, that I am really jealous.”
Becky made no reply. Somehow, she did not feel quite so happy now. Itseemed to her that they were getting along very pleasantly, withouthaving this young lady added to their company. He was jealous, too,of her evident fondness for the little girl she had befriended. Hemust be very much in love with her, then. She looked up, and met sucha mischievous twinkle in his eyes, that she laughed aloud at her ow
nfolly.
“O, Harry, you do like to torment me. I hope you won’t plague her so,when you get her.”
“When I get her? O, no, Becky, I shall be a different man, a verydifferent man--when I get her.”
Still the same mischievous look. What could he mean? Was it allsettled, then? Was he sure of her? She turned away, sick at heart,disappointed at she knew not what. She only wished she was at home.
“Here, Becky, come with me. I have purloined a big dish of goodies, andhidden it under the sofa in the sitting-room. Come with me; we shall bealone in there.”
It was the voice of the captain; a welcome relief to her embarrassedposition. Smilingly she took the arm of her friend, and soon they werecomfortably snuggled together on the sofa, and the captain’s teasingoffspring forgotten.
“Ah, Becky, there’s lots of young and gay fellows about to-night; but Iknow you will spare a few moments for the old man,” said the captain,as he produced his “goodies” from beneath the sofa.
“Indeed I will. O, you are so kind to make Harry’s coming home sopleasant to all of us!”
“Yes, chatterbox; and you were kind to give me the opportunity to doit. But tell me, what shall we do with him, now we’ve got him home?”
“Why keep him, of course. You don’t think he’ll run away--do you?”
“I’m afraid he will. He’s talking now of going to Boston to study law.It’s all nonsense. He needn’t do anything but just spend my money.”
“He never would be satisfied with such a life as that. He’d make asplendid lawyer, I know.”
“Yes; but he can study with Squire Barnes, here at home. There’s fewlawyers can beat him in an argument. If I could only find some way tokeep him here! He’s old enough to marry.”
Becky winced.
“Perhaps he’s thinking of that, and wants to be in Boston, near AliceParks.”
“Alice Fiddlesticks!” shouted the captain, upsetting his plate. “Don’ttalk nonsense, Becky.”
“He had a letter from her to-day,” said Becky, innocently unmindful ofthe fact that she might be betraying a secret.
“He did--did he?” said the captain, growing red in the face. “I’ll puta stop to that. He shan’t marry that girl; I won’t have it. I’ll justhave him in here, and know what he means.”
He jumped to his feet, dropping his plate.
“O, captain, don’t say anything to him to-night,” cried Becky, seizingthe captain’s arm, and preventing his leaving the room. “He would hateme if I made trouble between him and you; and I love him so dearly!Don’t captain, don’t. You’ll break my heart.”
The little goose dropped the captain’s arm, and fled to the sofa,covered her face with her hands, and sobbed aloud. The captain staredat her. It was evident to him she did love Harry; and his hatred ofMiss Alice Parks grew stronger. But it was no time for a scene; and hesat himself down beside Becky, put his arm around her, and penitentlypromised to be quiet, and not interfere. He gradually succeeded inbringing Becky into a lighter mood; and as the refreshed company fromthe dining-room drifted that way, the party on the sofa were hugelyenjoying a joke the captain had perpetrated for the benefit of hiscompanion.
In due time the dining-room was cleared of the fragments of the feast,the tables rolled against the walls, and, with Harry as master ofceremonies, a succession of familiar in-door pastimes was inauguratedfor the younger members of the company. “Fox and Geese,” “Blind Man’sBuff,” and “Hunt the Slipper,” gave pleasant entertainment to thelight-hearted revellers.
Nor did the happy occasion end here. Mr. Clairborn, the chorester,had been running about the room, watching Mr. Arnold with a feverishexcitement he found hard to control. At last that worthy individual, toset a good example to his parishioners, tucked his good wife under hisarm and departed. Then Mr. Clairborn ran to the sofa and from behind ittook a long green bag, of peculiar shape, and from the bag he took--afiddle, to the amazement of certain staid neighbors, who thought theman crazy. Of these people he took not the least notice, but, with hisinstrument in full view, marched to the head of the dining-room.
Instantly there was a shout, “A dance! a dance!” A dance in DeaconThompson’s house! He’d soon put a stop to that. Anxious looks were castin his direction; but he was busy talking to Mrs. York, and took notthe least notice of what was going on about him.
“Hull’s Victory; take your partners!” shouted Mr. Clairborn.
The captain did not move; the company did. There was a moment’s bustle,and then Mr. Clairborn’s bow went dancing across his fiddle, and twentyhappy couples danced up and down the dining-room. Then came “VirginiaReel.” “Money Musk,” “Fisher’s Hornpipe,” and a regular succession ofgood old contra dances, with a merry accompaniment of glib tongues andhappy laughter. O, captain, you are laying yourself open to a severereckoning at the next church meeting. Little cared the stubborn captainwhat might come of his folly. “Eat, drink, and be merry.” The lost sonwas home again. They might make a bonfire of his old house; but theyshould never forget this night.
In the height of their merriment, a strange figure dashed into theirmidst. It was Aunt Hulda.
“Stop, quick! Where’s Becky Sleeper?”
The music ceased, and all gazed at the weird figure which, with glaringeyes and dishevelled hair, stood in their midst.
“Here, Aunt Hulda, what’s the matter?” and Becky stepped from her placeamong the dancers.
“O, Becky! Becky! home, quick! Your mother’s had another shock!”
Becky screamed, and ran after Aunt Hulda, who immediately turnedand left the house. There was no more dancing: the company quietlydispersed. When the last guest had departed, Mrs. Thompson put on hershawl, and with Harry and the captain, started for the house across thebridge. The church clock struck eleven.
At that very moment the train entered the depot at Foxtown, and from itjumped a stout, long-bearded weather-bronzed man.
Aunt Hulda was right. A second stroke of paralysis had fallen uponDelia Sleeper, sealing the lips that had so often of late utteredtender words of love to the heart-broken child, who now lay weepingupon her breast. There was no sign of life upon that pale face, save inthe eyes that wandered from face to face, and sought the open door witha wishful look. They were all about her,--Aunt Hulda, Mrs. Thompson,Harry, the captain, Teddy,--all anxiously waiting the verdict of Dr.Allen. Soon the doctor made his appearance, soberly examined hispatient, gave a few whispered instructions to Aunt Hulda, and left theroom, followed by the captain.
“O, mother, speak to me! only speak to me!” sobbed Becky. “Tell me youforgive me for leaving you. I didn’t know this was coming--indeed Ididn’t. Forgive me dear, dear mother!”
No sound from the lips, but the eyes sought the dear face with atroubled look.
“Nay, Becky,” said Mrs. Thompson, “you have done no wrong. It was yourmother’s wish that you should go to-night.”
The roving eyes thanked the good woman for her interpretation of theirlanguage.
“No, no; it was wrong to leave her. She’ll die, and leave me--I knowshe will.”
“Hush, Becky,” said Aunt Hulda. “The doctor said she’d rally. Greatcare is necessary. Another shock would be fatal.”
Thus admonished, Becky grew very quiet, but knelt at the side of thebed, with her eyes fastened upon her mother’s. Mrs. Thompson tried totake her from the room, but she waved her off. Notwithstanding thedoctor’s whispered hope, dread forebodings filled the hearts of allthe watchers of that pale face, with its gleaming eyes. For an hourthat room was as quiet as if beneath a spell. No one there could be ofthe least assistance; yet not one departed. So quiet, that the far-offnoise of wheels at that late hour startled them; and a sudden lightdilated the watchful eyes upon the bed. They fastened upon the door,full of expectancy and hope.
The wheels drew nearer, nearer yet; they stopped before the house. Amoment after there came a hurried tread; the door was thrown open, andin the room stood the long-expected husband,--Cyrus Sleep
er.
“Delia, wife! home, home at last!”
Those wishful eyes fastened upon his face an instant, gleamed brighterstill, and then closed--closed forever. Their work was done.
Faithful eyes; let them be covered. They have watched and waited forthe ship; it has come, freighted with treasure; but not to enrich thatloving heart. The ship has come, to meet another leaving an earthlyport--God’s invisible bark, bearing one more purified soul out into thesea of eternity, unto the haven of heavenly bliss. Speedy shall be thyvoyage, gentle mother. Behind thee are tears and lamentations, and thememory of thy patient endurance of adversity’s long trial; before theelies the new life. Freed from earthly bonds, eager to do thy Maker’swork in the great hereafter, loving spirits, with glad hosannas, shallwelcome thy coming to the port of peace.
CHAPTER XIV.
TWO YEARS AFTER.
The little brown house on the hill vanished; in its place stands amodern mansion, broad and high, attractively arrayed in white andgreen, with commodious out-buildings, broad walks and flower-beds aboutit; a wide and well-cultivated vegetable patch stretching to the water,with a young orchard, handsome and vigorous, away to the right. Thereare evidences of abundant means in its laying out, and of rare taste inits nurture. It is still the Sleeper place, and Captain Cyrus Sleeperis the head of its household. When the earthly remains of Delia Sleeperhad been laid away in the quiet churchyard, and the serious faces ofthe gossips of Cleverly had resumed their wonted aspect, eager was thedesire of these curious people to know the cause of the long absenceof the captain; and the stricken household were not long left to thesolitude they coveted.
The captain’s story was very brief. Generally a man of voluble tongue,the sad scene which had greeted his return home seemed to have soshocked him, that his communications were abrupt, often rude, andentirely unsatisfactory to the news-seekers.
He had been to California, among the first adventurers to the GoldenState, had struck gold with the earliest, and at the end of ayear’s absence from home, returned to San Francisco well laden withtreasure. Here a thirst for speculation took hold of him; and, withoutexperience, he became the gull of a set of sharpers, and in less thanthree months was penniless. Back to the mines again, but with a sternerexperience. The mines were overcrowded, gold was harder to find, andstill harder to keep. Yet he worked away for eighteen months, recoveredall he had lost, and came back to San Francisco, determined to startfor home. But this time he had a partner; and before the division ofthe hard-won nuggets was made, his partner, thinking a whole loafbetter than half a loaf, vanished with the joint stock, leaving Sleeperwith barely enough to reach home.
At this time news of the gold discoveries in Australia reachedCalifornia, and thirsty Sleeper started for the new fount, to fillhis empty pitcher. His good luck returned to him, and, after long andpatient delving, the coveted treasure was in his grasp. Taught wisdomby experience, he banked his gold as fast as gained, and when hereached Boston was worth at least three hundred thousand dollars.
He reached home, a wealthy man, to find his wife dying of neglect; tofind she had not heard from him for years. He could not understand it.Had he written? Certainly, often. But no letters had ever reached her.Yet when closely questioned, it appeared he had only written twice,being a man with whom penmanship was a most unmanageable craft, and hadentrusted his epistles to the care of others. He was a fair type of toomany sailors; the bonds of affection held strong at home; but away, thedriving winds and tossing waves snapped them, and they were useless toguide the giddy rover.
Cyrus Sleeper mourned his wife deeply for a while, and then hisbustling spirit set itself to work. He was proud of his daughter; gazedupon her with admiration; watched her quick steps and ready tact inhousehold affairs, and swore a big sailor oath to himself that sheshould have the best home in Cleverly. He kept his word. He went toCaptain Thompson, and asked him to take his child until he could build.The captain took them all--his friend, Becky, Teddy, even Aunt Hulda;and for a year they were the inhabitants of his house.
Then the old house came down, and the new structure went up. With readymoney and a pushing spirit, Cyrus Sleeper found men and materials readyat his command; and after a year’s absence the family returned to theold spot, to find it entirely metamorphosed, as if by the hands of anenchanter.
During this year Becky had not been idle. Though the necessity forwork had passed away, the spirit of independence still hovered abouther. She had made a contract with Mr. Woodfern, and she determined tofulfil it. She found drawing on wood no easy matter; but she resolutelypersevered, and in a fortnight sent her three blocks to Mr. Woodfern.Two were accepted; the third was returned, with the concise message,“Try again,” and matter for three new illustrations. Emboldened byher success, she worked at her drawing through the winter, with aconstantly growing love for her task, and ever increasing show ofimprovement, until no blocks were returned, and the engraver clamoredfor more.
Nor did her usefulness end here. Eager to relieve Mrs. Thompson of apart of the burden which her large family entailed upon her, she dashedinto domestic affairs with alacrity, and proved an able assistant, anda ready solver of the mysteries of housekeeping. Another loving andholy task--the care of her mother’s grave--was never neglected. Dailythe grave, which bore a white slab at its head, on which the name“Mother” was carved, was visited by her on whose heart that dear namewas so indelibly engraved; and twining vines and fresh white flowersgave token of the fond affection of the motherless child.
Poor Aunt Hulda having thus unexpectedly become an inmate of CaptainThompson’s house, where she was treated with the utmost respect, had areturn of her old grumbling programme, to the dismay of Becky. Havingno active employment to keep her mind off herself, it was no wonderthat the appetite she had so long supplied should grow restive. Butnot until the spinster spoke of going over to “help” Parson Arnold’swife, did Becky hit upon a cure for her nervousness. Then it suddenlyoccurred to her that there were others who needed real “help,” and so,taking Aunt Hulda to her chamber, she spread out a neat little campaignof charity, in which Aunt Hulda, furnished with a well-filled purse,and unlimited freedom to call upon her for supplies, was to enactthe _role_ of an angel of mercy, because Becky was “so busy.” Thisdispelled the vapors at once. The homely angel took up her mission withalacrity; and many a poor creature in Cleverly blessed the dear oldmaid for her ministrations, with tears of gratitude.
When the new house was finished, and they had moved in, Cyrus Sleeperwalked over to settle with Captain Thompson. He found this no easymatter. Captain Thompson would not listen to it. He had induced DeliaSleeper to embark with him in speculation; she had lost all, and it washis duty to care for her and her children. As for the living duringthe year, they had taken them as visitors; were glad to have them, andwould take them again willingly.
Captain Sleeper was determined, and Captain Thompson obstinate; andthey came to pretty high words, and parted, vowing they would neverspeak to each other again. Becky tried to reconcile them, and at lastmade them agree to leave the matter to a referee for settlement, sheto name the party. To their surprise, she named Aunt Hulda. Thatdistinguished character immediately locked herself in her room,--forshe had an apartment in the new house.
For a week she worked at accounts, partly drawn from her wise old head.At the end of that time she called the two captains before her, andplaced in their hands a long bill. “Captain Sleeper debtor to CaptainThompson,” in which every item of provisions and clothing, that CaptainThompson had paid for, figured, and the sum total of which amounted toseven hundred dollars, which Captain Sleeper must pay. Captain Sleeperwrote a check, payable to the order of Captain Thompson, for onethousand dollars--he wouldn’t pay a cent less. Captain Thompson tookthe check, without a word, wrote across the back of it, “Pay to HuldaPrime,” and handed it to the astonished woman.
“That’s the fee for your work. Now don’t let’s hear any more about asettlement.”
The two captain
s shook hands; Becky hugged Aunt Hulda, and told herthey had served her just right. The spinster tried to speak, butcouldn’t, for her tears. The matter was satisfactorily settled forever,and the hitherto penniless referee found herself no penniless bride,when the new mill being in successful operation, Mark Small took her toa home of her own, and the romantic episode in the life of an old maidbecame one of the chronicles of Cleverly.
Teddy Sleeper, by mutual consent of the two captains, was regularlyapprenticed to the trade of ship carpentering--an occupation which soonreduced his weight, enlarged his muscles, and increased his appetite.Hard work dissipated his once sluggish disposition; a love for histrade aroused ambition; and Captain Thompson had the satisfaction ofknowing his _protege_ would in time become a successful ship-builder.
Harry Thompson entered the office of Squire Alden, to study law, tothe delight of his father, and took to work so earnestly that thescheming captain could not find it in his heart to risk another ruptureby opening his batteries for the purpose of defeating the alliancewhich he had many reasons for believing was at some future time to becompleted between his son and Alice Parks.
Two years after the death of her mother found Becky Sleeper mistress ofher father’s home, with unlimited means at her command, yet careful andprudent in its management, relying upon her tried friends--Aunt Huldaand Mrs. Thompson--for advice; always cheerful, yet ever earnest, doingher best for the comfort of all about her, moving easily in her exaltedsphere, with all the roughness of her tomboy days quite worn away, andthe graces of gentle, cultivated womanhood shining all about her.
Cleverly folks were prouder of the young housekeeper than they hadbeen of the brave girl. Captain Sleeper was a social man, and wouldhave a lively house, and many and brilliant were the gatherings overwhich Becky presided. Yet she liked the neighborly company of CaptainThompson, or Aunt Rebecca, or Harry best of all. The latter madehimself quite at home there, and of course Cleverly people talked aboutit, and made a match at once.
Yet the young people spoken of hardly acted like lovers. They werenot in the habit of secreting themselves among the window curtains,or wandering down the walks hand in hand, or conversing in thatmysterious language of the eyes so tender and significant. And so atlast the good people believed themselves mistaken, and the wife-seekingyoung fellows of the neighborhood took courage, and laid siege to therichly-endowered heart of Miss Becky Sleeper.
One of the number--Herbert Arnold, son of the pastor, a slim, delicateyoung man--became a frequent visitor, and threw longing glances throughthe glasses of his gold-rimmed spectacles, and paid much attention toAunt Hulda, whose pies were his exceeding delight, and listened to thecaptain’s long yarns without a yawn, and went away firmly convinced hewas making an impression upon the heart of Becky. But the young ladyshut the door after him, with a smile, and turned away, to dream ofsomebody else.
The last rays of an October sun were decking the broad piazza of thehouse with a golden glow. It had been a busy day with Becky, and, alittle weary, she threw open the door, to breathe the air, after herlong season of labor. Sitting on the steps, tracing in the sandbefore him with a cane, was Harry Thompson, evidently busy with someproblem. With a smile, she cautiously slipped behind him, and looked athis work. No difficult problem tasked his cane; only a name written inthe sand--“Becky Sleeper.” She started back, and a flush deeper thanthe sun could paint overspread her face.
HARRY WRITES IN THE SAND. Page 243.]
“Why, Harry! you here?”
The name quickly disappeared from the sands, and a flushed face turnedtowards her.
“Yes--O, yes--how do you do? Nice evening--isn’t it?” answered Harry,hurriedly.
“Why, what in the world are you doing there? Why don’t you come in?”
“Thank you; not just now. I’m very busy thinking.”
“Indeed! Then perhaps I’d better retire. I wouldn’t for the worldinterrupt your _new_ occupation,” said Becky; and a merry laugh rippledon her lips.
“That’s right; laugh, Becky. It’s an old occupation, that, verybecoming to you,” returned Harry. “It reminds me of the days when wewere both so young and innocent. Ah, those good old days! We were greatfriends then, Becky.”
“I hope we are good friends now, Harry.”
“Of course we are. But now you are quite a woman, full of cares; yet abrave, good, noble little woman, rich and courted.”
“Thanks to those who trained the vine once running to waste, flatterer.What I am I owe to those who loved me; what I might have been withouttheir aid, not all the riches in the world could have prevented.”
“True, Becky. By the by, I have a letter from an old friend willinterest you. Oh such startling news?”
Becky colored, yet compressed her lips resolutely. Always that oldfriend.
“From Alice Parks?” she said.
“Yes, from Alice Parks. You know what an interest I take in that younglady’s welfare, and you shall share in my delight. Look at that.”
He handed her a letter; she took it with a pang of uneasiness;mechanically unfolded it. There dropped from it two cards, fastenedwith white ribbon. Harry picked up the cards and handed them to her.She glanced at them.
“O, Harry! she’s married!”
“Certainly. Mr. George Woodfern and Miss Alice Parks, after a long andpatient courtship, have united their destinies. The _designing_ youngwoman having _engraved_ herself upon the heart of the young engraver,the new firm is ready for business.”
“O, Harry, I’m so sorry!” faltered Becky.
“Sorry? for what, pray? They’ll be very happy.”
“Sorry for you, Harry. They will be happy; but you--you--you loved herso dearly--didn’t you?”
“Sorry for me? Well, I like that!” And Harry indorsed his liking with ahearty laugh. “Loved her? Why, Becky, what put that into your head?”
Becky was confused. She thought of the uneasiness she had causedCaptain Thompson by her suspicions, to say nothing of the uneasinessshe had caused herself.
“Why, Harry, you wrote to her, and she wrote to you; and I told yourfather that I thought you were engaged.”
“Indeed! that accounts for the old gentleman’s fidgets when I receiveda letter. No, Becky, I admired, and do admire, that young lady; butlove her! make her my wife! I never had the least idea of it. My heartis engaged elsewhere.”
“Indeed! I never heard of it.”
“That’s my misfortune, then. I have always loved a dear old playmate,one whom I have watched grow into a strong and beautiful woman; whom Iwould not wrong with the offer of my hand until I had fully proved mypower to win my way in the world. Do you know her, Becky?”
He still sat there, looking up into her face, with eyes so full ofstrong and tender love, that Becky was almost sure she saw her ownimage mirrored there; and her heart beat wildly.
“Becky, must I say more?”
He looked at her mischievously; then turned and traced upon the sandsthe name again--“Becky Sleeper.”
“O, Harry, Harry! I’m so glad, so glad!”
She sank down by his side; his arm was about her, and her head was onhis breast. Very much like lovers, now. So thought Mrs. Thompson, asshe stepped inside the gate; so thought two old fellows, who just thencame from the barn towards them.
“Look there, Cyrus, old boy; there’s poaching on your ground.”
“All right, Paul--if my dove must go. It will be tenderly nurturedthere.”
And so, in due time, the “Tomboy” became a lovely bride; and the nameHarry Thompson had shaped upon the sand, was written in the old familyBible; and another generation of Thompsons sported in the orchard, andplucked fruit from the old tree where Becky Sleeper had long ago beenfound Running to Waste.
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Travels in Mexico, with vivid descriptions of manners and customs, form a large part of this striking narrative of a fourteen-months’ voyage.
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“Mr. Bishop did a very bold thing, and has described it with a happy mixture of spirit, keen observation, and _bonhomie_.”--_London Graphic._
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“His glowing pen-pictures of ‘shanty-boat’ life on the great rivers are true to life. His descriptions of persons and places are graphic.”--_Zion’s Herald._
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“Mr. Bishop made this journey when a boy of sixteen, has never forgotten it, and tells it in such a way that the reader will always remember it, and wish there had been more.”
CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. Being the Adventures of a NaturalistBird-Hunting in the West-India Islands. By FRED A. OBER. Crown 8vo.With maps and illustrations. $2.50.
“During two years he visited mountains, forests, and people that few, if any, tourists had ever reached before. He carried his camera with him, and photographed from nature the scenes by which the book is Illustrated.”--_Louisville Courier-Journal._
_Sold by all booksellers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt ofprice._
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SOPHIE MAY’S “GROWN-UP” BOOKS.
_Uniform Binding. All Handsomely Illustrated. $1.50._
JANET, A POOR HEIRESS.
“The heroine of this story is a true girl. An imperious, fault-finding, unappreciative father alienates her love, and nearly ruins her temper. The mother knows the father is at fault, but does not dare to say so. Then comes a discovery, that she is only an adopted daughter; a forsaking of the old home; a life of strange vicissitudes; a return; a marriage under difficulties; a
nd a discovery, that, after all, she is an heiress. The story is certainly a very attractive one.”--_Chicago Interior._
THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER.
“Sophie May, author of the renowned Prudy and Dotty books, has achieved another triumph in the new book with this title just issued. She has taken ‘a new departure’ this time, and written a new story for grown-up folks. If we are not much mistaken, the young folks will want to read it, as much as the old folks want to read the books written for the young ones. It is a splendid story for all ages.”--_Lynn Semi-Weekly Recorder._
THE ASBURY TWINS.
“The announcement of another work by this charming and popular writer will be heartily welcomed by the public. And in this sensible, fascinating story of the twin-sisters, ‘Vic’ and ‘Van,’ they have before them a genuine treat. Vic writes her story in one chapter, and Van in the next, and so on through the book. Van is frank, honest, and practical; Vic wild, venturesome, and witty; and both of them natural and winning. At home or abroad, they are true to their individuality, and see things with their own eyes. It is a fresh, delightful volume, well worthy of its gifted author.”--_Boston Contributor._
OUR HELEN.
“‘Our Helen’ is Sophie May’s latest creation; and she is a bright, brave girl, that the young people will all like. We are pleased to meet with some old friends in the book. It is a good companion-book for the ‘Doctor’s Daughter,’ and the two should go together. Queer old Mrs. O’Neil still lives, to indulge in the reminiscences of the young men of Machias; and other Quinnebasset people with familiar names occasionally appear, along with new ones who are worth knowing. ‘Our Helen’ is a noble and unselfish girl, but with a mind and will of her own; and the contrast between her and pretty, fascinating, selfish little Sharley, is very finely drawn. Lee & Shepard publish it.”--_Holyoke Transcript._
QUINNEBASSET GIRLS.
“The story is a very attractive one, as free from the sensational and impossible as could be desired, and at the same time full of interest, and pervaded by the same bright, cheery sunshine that we find in the author’s earlier books. She is to be congratulated on the success of her essay in a new field of literature, to which she will be warmly welcomed by those who know and admire her ‘Prudy Books.’”
_Sold by all booksellers and newsdealers, and sent by mail, postpaid,on receipt of price._
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* * * * *
TROPHIES OF TRAVEL.
DRIFTING ROUND THE WORLD; A Boy’s Adventures by Sea and Land. By CAPT.CHARLES W. HALL, author of “Adrift in the Ice-Fields,” “The GreatBonanza,” etc. With numerous full-page and letter-press illustrations.Royal 8vo. Handsome cover. $1.75. Cloth. Gilt. $2.50.
“Out of the beaten track” in its course of travel, record of adventures, and descriptions of life in Greenland, Labrador, Ireland, Scotland, England, France, Holland, Russia, Asia, Siberia, and Alaska. Its hero is young, bold, and adventurous; and the book is in every way interesting and attractive.
EDWARD GREÉY’S JAPANESE SERIES.
YOUNG AMERICANS IN JAPAN; or, The Adventures of the Jewett Familyand their Friend Oto Nambo. With 170 full-page and letter-pressillustrations. Royal 8vo, 7 × 9-1/2 inches. Handsomely illuminatedcover. $1.75. Cloth, black and gold, $2.50.
This story, though essentially a work of fiction, is filled with interesting and truthful descriptions of the curious ways of living of the good people of the land of the rising sun.
THE WONDERFUL CITY OF TOKYO; or, The Further Adventures of the JewettFamily and their Friend Oto Nambo. With 169 illustrations. Royal 8vo, 7× 9-1/2 inches. With cover in gold and colors, designed by the author.$1.75. Cloth, black and gold, $2.50.
“A book full of delightful information. The author has the happy gift of permitting the reader to view things as he saw them. The illustrations are mostly drawn by a Japanese artist, and are very unique.”--_Chicago Herald._
THE BEAR WORSHIPPERS OF YEZO AND THE ISLAND OF KARAFUTO; being thefurther Adventures of the Jewett Family and their Friend Oto Nambo. 180illustrations. Boards. $1.75. Cloth, $2.50.
Graphic pen and pencil pictures of the remarkable bearded people who live in the north of Japan. The illustrations are by native Japanese artists, and give queer pictures of a queer people, who have been seldom visited.
HARRY W. FRENCH’S BOOKS.
OUR BOYS IN INDIA. The wanderings of two young Americans in Hindustan,with their exciting adventures on the sacred rivers and wild mountains.With 145 illustrations. Royal 8vo, 7 × 9-1/2 inches. Bound inemblematic covers of Oriental design, $1.75. Cloth, black and gold,$2.50.
While it has all the exciting interest of a romance, it is remarkably vivid in its pictures of manners and customs in the land of the Hindu. The illustrations are many and excellent.
OUR BOYS IN CHINA. The adventures of two young Americans, wrecked inthe China Sea on their return from India, with their strange wanderingsthrough the Chinese Empire. 188 illustrations. Boards, ornamentalcovers in colors and gold. $1.75. Cloth, $2.50.
This gives the further adventures of “Our Boys” of India fame in the land of Teas and Queues.
_Sold by all booksellers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt ofprice._
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* * * * *
Young Folks’ Heroes of the Rebellion.
BY REV. P. C. HEADLEY.
SIX VOLUMES. ILLUSTRATED. PER VOL. $1.25.
FIGHT IT OUT ON THIS LINE. The Life and Deeds of General U. S. Grant.
A life of the great Union General from his boyhood, written for boys. Full of anecdotes and illustrations, and including his famous trip around the world.
FACING THE ENEMY. The Life and Military Career of General WilliamTecumseh Sherman.
The Glorious March to the Sea by the brave Sherman and his boys will never be forgotten. This is a graphic story of his career from boyhood.
FIGHTING PHIL. The Life and Military Career of Lieut-Gen. Philip HenrySheridan.
The story of the dashing Cavalry General of the army of the United States.--A fighting Irishman.--Full of pluck and patriotism for his adopted country. The book is full of adventure.
OLD SALAMANDER. The Life and Naval Career of Admiral David GlascoeFarragut.
The Naval History of the great civil war is exceedingly interesting, and the life of Admiral Farragut is rich in brave deeds and heroic example.
THE MINER BOY AND HIS MONITOR. The Career and Achievements of JohnEricsson, Engineer.
One of the most thrilling incidents of the war was the sudden appearance of the Little Monitor in Hampton Roads to beat back the Merrimac. The life of the inventor is crowded with his wonderful inventions, and the story of his boyhood in the coal mines of Sweden is particularly interesting.
OLD STARS. The Life and Military Career of Major-Gen. Ormsby McKnightMitchel.
“Old Stars” was the pet name given the brave general by his soldiers, who remembered his career as an astronomer before he became a soldier. His story is full of stirring events and heroic deeds.
? Sold by all booksellers, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt ofprice.
LEE AND SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston.
* * * * *
YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD.
BY OLIVER OPTIC.
A Library of Travel and Adventure in Foreign Lands. First and SecondSeries; six volumes in each Series. 16mo. Illustrated.
_First Series._
I. _OUTWARD BOUND_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA AFLOAT.
II. _SHAMROCK AND THISTLE_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN IRELAND AND SCOTLAND.
III. _RED CROSS_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN ENGLAND AND WALES.
IV. _DIKES AND DITCHES_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN HOLLAND AND BELGIUM.
V. _PALACE AND COTTAGE_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN FRANCE AND SWITZERLAND.
VI. _DOWN THE RHINE_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN GERMANY.
_Second Series._
I. _UP THE BALTIC_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN NORWAY, SWEDEN, AND DENMARK.
II. _NORTHERN LANDS_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN RUSSIA AND PRUSSIA.
III. _CROSS AND CRESCENT_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN TURKEY AND GREECE.
IV. _SUNNY SHORES_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN ITALY AND AUSTRIA.
V. _VINE AND OLIVE_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN SPAIN AND PORTUGAL. In preparation.
VI. _ISLES OF THE SEA_; OR, YOUNG AMERICA HOMEWARD BOUND. In preparation.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they arementioned.
Punctuation has been made consistent.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear inthe original publication, except that obvious typos have been corrected.
Running to Waste: The Story of a Tomboy Page 13