by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER VIII.
RISEN FROM THE DEAD.
I take up my pen again, but in what a different spirit to that withwhich I laid it down, as I thought for ever. Then I believed that I haddone with the world; that its joys and its pleasures, its griefs andanxieties, were no more for me, but that I was to remain a merespectator of the drama; interested indeed, as a spectator always is,hoping that virtue will be rewarded, and the villains of the playunmasked and punished in the end, and giving my best wishes to all theyoung lovers, but really caring only for the happiness of Harry, andPolly and Ada; and my greatest ambition and hope being to become someday a quiet, contented old maid, the friend and confidant of the youngpeople round me, and the beloved aunty of Polly's and Harry's children.But in these three months two events have happened, the first of whichis important enough for me to have taken up my pen to have chronicled;but the second, and which is the one of which I shall write first, hasonce more altered all my life, has at once changed all the plans which Ihad, in my sagacity, thought so unalterably settled, and has, when Ileast dreamt of it, given me fresh life, and hope, and happiness. Icannot stay to tell it as it was told me, my heart is too full, I mustwrite it at once. Percy is alive, is alive; think of that! My eyes arefull of tears of joy as I write it, and I can hardly sit still, althoughit is a week now since I heard it, but I could not trust myself to writeit before. I am wild with joy; thank God--thank God for all his mercies,and for this most of all. Oh, how happy, how intensely happy I am! Percyis alive; he has written to me, and in another year he will be home toclaim me. What a changed being I am in this short week. I can hardlykeep myself from bursting into wild songs of joy. My happiness is soexquisite, it is almost too much for me, and I want all the world torejoice with me, for this, my own Percy, who was dead and is aliveagain; who was lost, and is found. Mrs. Mapleside tells me that I lookten years younger than I did a week ago. I can quite believe her; I feelfifty. If I had Polly here now, to play for me, I think it would be arelief to dance myself into a state of exhaustion; but poor Mrs.Mapleside would not understand it. As it is she says she does not knowmy step about the house; so I forego the relief a tarantella would giveme, and keep myself as quiet as I can, and continually bless and thankGod for all this, His great mercy to me. And now I must tell how ithappened.
Last Friday--that is, this day week--we had finished lunch, and Mrs.Mapleside had just gone out, when a fly stopped at the door. There was aknock, a word or two in the passage to Hannah, and then the parlour dooropened, and in walked--I could hardly believe my eyes--Polly.
What a surprise! but what a pleasure it was; and how delighted I felt tosee her!
"My dear, darling Polly," I said, as soon as our first embrace was over,"what on earth brings you to Canterbury?"
"You, Agnes, I suppose. It is nearly three months since you were up, andit will be as much before your next visit; so as it was about half-way,I persuaded Charley to let me run down for three or four days to seeyou, so that I might judge for myself what your life was like here.Besides, it is so long since I was down in dear old Canterbury that Ihad a great longing to see it again. You told me that you had a spareroom here, and Charley has promised to come down to-morrow and stay tillMonday. He says I rave so about the place, that though he can't helpthinking it must be dreadfully slow, with no river wide enough to pullon, still he really must come down, too, to see it."
"I am so, so glad, Polly; but why did you not write to tell me?"
"I thought I would surprise you, Agnes; and, indeed, it was not finallysettled before last night. Charley could not tell whether he should beable to get away or not. And now I will go up to your room, Agnes, andtake off my things."
It was not until we had come down again, and had at last sat quietlydown, that I noticed Polly's face, and then I saw at once that she wasnot looking at all herself. She was very pale, and looked, I thought,anxious and flurried.
"There is nothing the matter, Polly, is there?" I asked anxiously. "Youhave not any bad news to tell me?"
"No, Agnes, none at all," Polly said.
"You are quite sure, Polly?" I repeated, for I could not help thinkingthat there was something the matter. "You have not heard any bad newsfrom Harry, in Australia, have you?"
"No, indeed, Agnes; I have not heard of him since the last mail, afortnight since, and you had a letter from him at the same time."
"Nor about Ada, or her family?" I persisted.
"Nothing at all, Agnes. I assure you I have no bad news of any kindwhatever to give you."
I could not help believing, although still I could not understand her.
"Excuse me, Polly," I said, at last; "but you have not had any foolishquarrel with Charley, have you?"
"Bless me, no, Agnes," she laughed. "The idea of my quarrelling with mydear old bear. What will you imagine next?"
I could not help laughing, too--the idea was ridiculous, certainly; forPolly and Charley were about as little likely to quarrel as any pair Iever saw. Here Hannah brought up the tray. Polly ate a little and had aglass of wine. When Hannah took away the things, she requested her toleave a tumbler of water on the table, as she felt rather thirsty afterher journey. When we were alone again, she asked me to give her a pieceof work to keep her fingers employed while she talked to me.
I accordingly gave her a piece of embroidery to do, and we chatted overour friends at Putney, and my quiet little doings here; but I could seethat Polly was thinking of something else, for her answers to myquestions were sometimes quite vague; and it certainly was not from theattention she was bestowing upon my work, for I could see that herneedle moved quite mechanically, and that she was making a terrible messof my unfortunate piece of embroidery. I was quite confirmed in mybelief that something or other was the matter; but as Polly wasevidently not inclined to tell it, I waited patiently, but ratheranxiously, for her to take her own time and manner of so doing.
At last she changed the subject of the conversation from Putney andCanterbury to a topic in which I at first felt little interest, as Ithought she had merely started it to delay the communication which I wassure, whatever it was, was coming presently.
"Have you seen the paper to-day, Agnes?"
"I have seen our paper; but that, as I have told you, is three days'old. Is there any particular news this morning?"
"The Indian mail is in to-day."
"Is it?" I said, indifferently. "One has no great interest in it now,ever since Sir Colin Campbell relieved Lucknow. One mail is exactly likeanother; merely the exploits of the flying columns, and the gradualrestoration of order."
"Yes, Agnes; but still, many of these captures of forts are very gallantactions."
"No doubt, Polly; but unless one has some friend actually engaged, onehas no great interest in them."
"No," Polly said, absently, "of course not. Still, it is pleasant toread how sometimes, when they take these distant forts, they findcaptives long since missing, and given up by their friends."
"Yes, indeed," I said, "I always do feel an interest in that; it is suchjoyous news to those who have grieved for them."
Polly was silent; and I wondered how much longer she was going ontalking about indifferent matters, and what it could be that she took solong before she could tell me. Presently she asked--
"Do you think, Agnes, that sudden joy ever kills?"
"I do not know, Polly, my experience has been so entirely the other waythat I cannot say how it might be; and there is one thing certain that Iam never likely to have the experiment tried upon myself."
"I do not know that," Polly said in a low voice.
There was a something in the way she spoke, a strange meaning tone whichsent a thrill through me; and yet there was no good news I could have toreceive, except, indeed, that the will was found; but if it ever shouldbe, I should be more likely to give the news to Polly than she to me;besides, even this would give me no such great pleasure now.
"Who can tell," Polly went on, seeing that I made no remark, "such
strange things do happen, that one should never be surprised. Fortunesturn up which were long thought lost; people come to life again who werelong since mourned for as dead; people, for instance, supposed to belost at sea, but who were picked up by some passing ship; people, who inthis Indian mutiny we were speaking of just now, have been hidden formonths by some native prince or peasant; officers who have been cut offfrom their regiments, and left for dead on the battle-field."
I had dropped my work now, and was looking at her, with my breath held,while my heart seemed to stop beating. What did she mean? Thesequestions about sudden joy, this talk about officers found after beinglong supposed dead?--could it be?--but I could not speak. Polly lookedup at me now for the first time, for she had before kept her eyes on herwork; then she threw down the embroidery, came over to me, and kneltdown beside me.
"Drink a little water, Agnes, prepare yourself to bear what I have totell you. God is very, very good to you, Agnes. The news from Indiato-day, says, that two officers long supposed to be dead have beenrecovered, and one of them is----"
"Percy," I gasped.
"Yes, dearest, your own Percy Desborough."
I did not faint; by a mighty effort I kept myself from screaming wildly,then all the blood seemed to rush up to my head, and I should havefallen had not Polly supported me, and sprinkled some water in my faceand moistened my lips with it. Then the quiet tears of joy andthankfulness came to my relief, and I was able to hang round Polly'sneck and kiss her and cry with her for a little time, till I wascomposed enough to kneel down at the sofa, and to thank God for this Hisgreat and unexpected mercy to me. When I rose from my knees, I felt moremyself again, but I was still dazed and giddy with my great joy. I couldhardly even now believe that it was true, and that Percy whom I hadmourned as dead so long was yet alive--would yet come home again; itseemed too great a happiness to be true, and yet I could not doubt, forthere was the paragraph in the Indian telegram, before my eyes, toassure me that it was so.
"Two officers, Major Payne, 105th regiment, and Lieutenant Desborough,25th Lancers, were found concealed by friendly natives in the districtof Jemundar, by the flying column under Colonel Heaviside."
There could be no mistake or doubt about it. Percy was saved. I need notsay what my feelings were; they were too deep for me to express then,and are far too deep for me to write of now. Polly was so pleased, too,not only at the news itself, but also because I had borne it better thanshe had been afraid I should have done. When we became composed at last,Polly made me sit in the easy chair, while she drew a stool up and tookher old position upon it by my side, and we talked long and thankfullyof my changed life and restored happiness.
At last I said, "Do you know, Polly, I could not think what you had totell me. I saw you had something on your mind, that you were anxious andabsent, and that your visit had some purpose more than youpretended,--and yet, as you assured me that all I cared for were well, Icould not conceive what it could be. Did you see it in the paper beforeCharley started to business?"
"I did, Agnes, and we had quite a scene, I can assure you. I will tellyou all about it. You know, Agnes, we always breakfast at a quarter pasteight, and Charley goes up by the nine o'clock train, that gives himplenty of time, and he hates being hurried. The newspaper comes a fewminutes past eight, and Charley always looks at the money article thefirst thing, before we begin, for I won't let him read at breakfast; asI tell him, he has all day for business, and he can study his paper ashe goes up in the train, so I insist on his giving up his breakfast-timeto me. Well, my dear, he had just sat down to the table, and had openedthe paper quite wide to look at his City article; I was standing up,waiting for the coffee to be brought up, when I noticed on the part ofthe paper turned towards me, the Indian telegrams--they are always inlarge print, you know--so I could read them easily as I stood, and Iglanced down them till I came to the one about Percy; without a word Isnatched the paper out of Charley's hand to read it closely, and then Isaw that I was not mistaken, and that it was indeed he. I am not quiteclear what I did--something extravagant, I daresay. I think I kissedCharley violently, and then, for the first time in my life, went into asort of hysterics. The first thing I distinctly remember is, that mydear old Charley was trying to calm me. He was evidently in the greatestalarm, and had not the least idea what was the matter, or what ought tobe done, and I believe he thought I had gone suddenly out of my mind. Hewas evidently afraid to touch me lest it should make me more violent,but was going on,--'Now, my dear Polly!--Oh, I say, now, Polly!--It isall right, Polly; it is, indeed!--For God's sake, try and composeyourself!' and he looked so dreadfully frightened, and his dear red oldcheeks were so pale, that with another wild fit of laughing, which Icould not help, I threw my arms round his neck and kissed him;frightening him more than ever, for he evidently thought my madness hadtaken a fresh turn.
"'It is all right, Charley,' I said, as soon as I could speak at all."'I am only so pleased.'
"'Oh, you are?' Charley said, still thinking I was out of my mind; 'thatis right, my dear--you are quite right to be pleased, but try and quietyourself. It is very jolly, no doubt, and I quite agree with you; butthere now, dear, don't laugh any more like that--for, upon my soul, youfrighten me horribly!'
"'I am better now, Charley,' I said. 'Get me a little cold water.'
"Just at this moment the servant came in with the breakfast, and Charleyrushed up to her, snatched the coffee-pot from her, and shouted out atthe top of his voice,--'Some cold water,--quick, quick!' frightening theservant nearly as much as I alarmed him; he then ran back to the table,burning himself terribly from the way he had taken the coffee-pot in hishands, and then swearing to himself--which he only does on very rareoccasions now--dreadfully. It nearly set me off again; however, the girlnow came back with some water, and when I had drank a little I began torecover myself.
"'Do you know what it was that gave me so much pleasure, Charley?'
"'Not in the least, my dear; but never mind telling me now. I dare sayit was very clever; but you can tell me presently. I shan't go up totown to-day.'
"'It was something I read in the paper, Charley.'
"'Oh, it was!' he said, doubtfully, evidently not believing me in theleast, but considering that I was still wandering in my mind.
"'Yes, Charley, only think, Percy Desborough, who was engaged toAgnes----'
"'Yes, my dear, I know; the man who was killed at Lucknow a year ago.'
"'He is not dead after all, Charley.'
"'No, I dare say not,' Charley said, soothingly; 'I should not be at allsurprised. I never thought he was myself; but don't mind him now. Laydown, my dear, and try and compose yourself.'
"'You silly old goose,' I said, 'look in the paper yourself.'
"Charley, evidently to humour me, turned to the paper; but he stillwatched me closely, in case I should be going to do anything fresh. Whenhe saw that it was really as I said, he was quite delighted; at firstprincipally for my sake, as he now began to see that after all, I hadonly had a fit of hysterics from my sudden delight, and was not out ofmy mind after all: that fear once removed, he was truly pleased at thenews for your sake. Presently I said,--
"'Oh, Charley, only think of Agnes; if she reads it in the papers, thesudden shock will kill her.'
"'By Jove!' Charley said, 'so it might. What is to be done?'
"'May I run down and tell her?' I asked. 'She does not see the _Times_the first day, and no one in Canterbury knows that she is engaged tohim; every one supposed it was broken off years ago, so no one is likelyto go in to tell her the first thing."
"'Of course you may, Polly, if you like; and, look here! I think I willgo down with you, for you have frightened me so confoundedly that Ishall be fit for nothing to-day in the City, and as to-morrow isSaturday, I will go down with you and bring you back on Monday morning.'
"We looked in a Bradshaw, and found there was an eleven o'clock traindown here; so he went up to town directly after breakfast, to say heshould be away till Monday;
I went up rather later, and he met me at theLondon Bridge Station in time to catch the train."
"Then where is Charley?" I asked, when Polly had finished her story.
"I sent him on to Ramsgate. I told him that I should have to take sometime to break it to you; and that then we should want to be alone; sothat, as altogether he would be dreadfully in the way, his best plan wasto go on to Ramsgate, and out for a sail, and to have dinner there; andthat he could come back here about seven o'clock. I mean to sleep here,as I said, Agnes; but Charley will go to an hotel. He will like thatmuch better, as then he can smoke and do as he likes."
I was now quite myself again, and Polly had evidently made her story aslong as she could, to allow me to recover myself, and to divert mythoughts a little from my great joy.
Mrs. Mapleside now came in, and was very surprised and glad to seePolly. We confided to her, under promise of strict secrecy, the goodnews Polly had come down to bring; a promise which the dear old lady didnot keep, for she was so delighted and full of it, that I really do notbelieve she could have kept it to herself had her life depended upon it.So she informed--also in the strictest confidence--three or four of hermost intimate friends, and as these were the greatest gossips inCanterbury, it was not long before the whole town knew of it; and,although I would, perhaps, rather that it had not been known, yet Icould not be vexed with the kind old lady, for I was very pleased at thesincere pleasure all my friends seemed to feel at my happiness.
I wrote the same afternoon to Ada, telling her that Polly had come downto break the news to me, and congratulating her on the happiness whichshe, as well as myself, must be feeling.
A few days after, I heard from her, saying that my letter had beenforwarded to her in Scotland, where she was visiting with her husband,and how great a relief it had been to her; for that after she had seenthe joyful news in the paper, she was very anxious about me, and had shebeen in London, she should certainly have acted as our dear Polly haddone, and have come down to break the news to me.
At about seven o'clock Charley came in from his trip to Ramsgate, andvery hearty and cordial was he in the pleasure he felt at my happiness.Mrs. Mapleside took a great fancy to him, and their three days' stay wasaltogether a delightful time. On Monday morning they returned to town,as Charley could not stay away longer from his business. Polly and hetried hard to persuade me now to give up my plan of a residence atCanterbury, and to go and live with them; but this I would not do. I amvery comfortable and happy where I am, and Mrs. Mapleside looks upon mequite as her own child, and would, I know, miss me dreadfully; and as atfarthest I thought Percy would be back in two years, I made up my mindto remain as I was till then, but I promised to pass a good deal of mytime with Polly.
Yesterday I got a letter from Percy, which Polly forwarded to me fromPutney, where he had of course directed it. It was a very long letter,and began by saying how grieved he was to think how much I must havesuffered at the news of his supposed death, and that he should be veryanxious about my health till he heard from me. He then went on to tellme all his adventures and hairbreadth escapes, and it really seemed asif over and over again he had been saved almost by a miracle. He had, aswas supposed, been severely wounded by a rebel ball, and had fallen fromhis horse; but he had strength enough left to crawl away and concealhimself under some bushes till the rebels had passed, which, occupied asthey were in harassing the retreating column, they did without muchsearch. Before their return he had crawled some considerable distance,and again concealed himself till night, he had then made his way to acottage which he entered and threw himself on the hospitality of thepeasants who lived there.
The poor people had been most kind to him and had concealed him therefor nearly a month, by which time his wounds, for he had two, hadhealed; neither of them, fortunately, were very serious, and it wasprincipally from loss of blood that he had fallen from his horse. Theyhad then sent him up the country to a friendly Zemindar who had receivedhim kindly, but had not the power openly to protect him. Here he hadstayed ten months, till the arrival of Colonel Heaviside's column hadgiven him an opportunity of rejoining the British forces. This tenmonths had been one continual danger, and had been passed sometimes inone disguise, sometimes in another, which only his perfect knowledge ofHindostanee had enabled him to carry through.
He wrote word that he was now quite well and strong again, and that hehoped to be in England in a year at the farthest; but he promised togive me at any rate a couple of months notice, and said that he shouldexpect to have everything ready to be married a week after he landed;for that after waiting all these years he did not see any reason why heshould be kept without me a single day, after he returned, longer thannecessary.
This was only yesterday. All this has happened in a week. I can hardlysteady myself down--I can hardly believe that all this happiness istrue, and that in another year Percy will be home to claim me. But yetit is all true, and it seems to have given me back my youth and lifeagain. Every one tells me that in this short week I am so changed, thatthey look at me almost with wonder, and are hardly able to believe thatI am the same person they knew ten days ago, as a quiet,melancholy-looking woman. Thank God for it all--for all His exceedingmercy and goodness to me!
This great grief has had one good effect. It has removed the onlyobstacle to my marriage with Percy. Three days after I received thejoyful news, a letter came to me from Lady Desborough. It was such aletter as I had not imagined that she could have written. She said that,in her grief, she had thought often of me, and had seen how wrong shehad been in her conduct towards us. She had said to herself that, if theopportunity could but come over again, she would act differently. Thatopportunity, by God's mercy, had come, and she wrote to say that sheshould no longer, in any way, raise the slightest obstacle to our union.She besought me to forget the past, and the weary years of separationand waiting which her cruelty had entailed upon us, and she prayed me toforgive her, and to think of it as if it had never been.
This letter gave me, for Percy's sake, great pleasure. I, of course,responded to it; and from that time we exchanged letters regularly.