by Anonymous
CHAPTER VIII.
ANOTHER SEARCH.
Half-past eight o'clock in the morning. The gong had sounded, and we hadall assembled in the library for prayers. All but Aleck, who, for thefirst time since he had been with us at Braycombe, was not in his usualplace.
My father missed him, and turned to ask me where he was.
"I expect he has gone out, papa," I replied; "he meant to go down to theshore to look for his boat."
"If you please, sir," said Bennet the footman, "I saw Master Gordonquite early this morning, maybe about six o'clock; he telled me he wasgoing down to look after the ship."
Family prayer was concluded and breakfast began, and still Aleck did notappear. As he had no watch, it was not surprising that he shouldmistake the time to a certain extent; but we all wondered he should beso very late, and at last my father began to feel uneasy. "He must havebeen a long way off not to have heard the eight o'clock bell," he said;"yet he's a careful boy; it seems unlikely he should come to any harm."
"Run out on the lawn, Willie," suggested my mother, "and take a goodlook round; perhaps he may be in sight."
But although I put a liberal interpretation upon the direction, and notonly ran out upon the lawn, but also down the drive for a little way,and up the overhanging bank, from which we could got a sight far offtowards the White-Rock Cove, I could see nothing of my cousin, andreturned breathless to the dining-room without the tidings that myparents expected.
The post had come in whilst I was out, and my father was engaged in theperusal of a letter from Uncle Gordon, reading little bits of it aloudto my mother as he went on. "Just starting for the Pyrenees ... needsend no letters for a fortnight ... address Poste Restante, Marseilles,after this; the constant change of air has done wonders," &c. &c. Whenthe letter was finished, I saw there was one enclosed for Aleck, whichaccording to custom I laid upon his plate, repeating, at the same time,that I had looked in every direction, but could see nothing of mycousin.
"He must have gone down to the lodge, and perhaps Groves kept him,finding it was late, and gave him something to take," said my mother.Whereupon my father rung the bell, and desired Bennet to go down at onceto the lodge and inquire whether Master Gordon had been there, whilst inthe mean time I finished my breakfast, and was sent to the school-roomto get my lessons ready for Mr. Glengelly.
It was not long before my father came to me. "Willie," he said, "I can'tunderstand what has kept Aleck, and I fear he may have hurt himself, andnot be able to make his way home; so I am going out at once to look forhim, and you must help me."
There was something rather dignified in being thus spoken to by myfather, and, had it not been for the secret load, of which I dared nottell him, but which already began to weigh with additional heaviness onmy heart, I should have felt somewhat elated at finding myself ofimportance.
My father continued in a quick, decided manner: "Leave your lessons, andrun off at once to the lodge. If you find Ralph anywhere about, so muchthe better, he can go with you; in any case you and George could manageto get the little boat round to the White-Rock Cove, keeping in shore asnearly as George thinks safe, and keep a sharp look-out all the wayalong for your cousin.--Stay; on second thoughts Rickson shall run downto the Cove too, in case Ralph is not to be found; you will want anotherhand."
I did not need twice telling, but was off in an instant, and, breathlesswith excitement, reached the lodge a few minutes after.
My story was soon told, and George lost no time in getting out thesmallest of our boats, and with Ralph, who happened, as George said, tobe fortunately "handy" on the occasion, we started upon our search. Icould not help thinking of the morning before, and its search, but theexcitement now kept up my spirits; it was something so new to be thussuddenly dismissed from lessons, and trusted to help in what wasevidently considered a matter of some anxiety; _why_ they should be soanxious I did not trouble myself to reflect, having little idea but thatAleck had wandered further than he intended, and perhaps experiencedsome difficulty on his way home.
We glided along quickly and pleasantly enough, past the first inlet, andthe second, from our own Cove, scrutinizing all the banks, and rocks,and shady nooks, so familiar through many a wild exploring of ours; toreach the third we were obliged to stand out a considerable distance tosea, as the promontory bounding the White-Rock Cove on this sidestretched far beyond the other rocky buttresses, making one of the mostprominent land-marks in that part of the south coast. It was underneathits shelter that we had lunched the day before, and as we passed by thebroad, flat stone in the little creek, the conversation we had had thererepeated itself again and again in my mind.
It was about half-past eleven o'clock when we had cleared this point,and George gave the order to haul down sail.
"It's best to take to the oars now, Master Willie; we'd be a long whileat it if we tacked--Now, Ralph, pull steady--You'll be about right ifyou keep her head straight for the White-Rock, Master Willie"--I was atthe helm--"ease her, ease her a bit; more to port, sir, more toport--now steady again--now ship oars--the tide's running in prettyfast, and will carry us in." George's commands, thus given at intervalsas we doubled the promontory and made for the Cove, alone broke silence,until, having shipped oars, there was nothing particular for him to do,and then all at once his tongue seemed unloosed. "Poor boy," he said,"it would be a sad day to us all if aught has happened amiss to him, andhis parents too off in foreign parts. How cut up he was about his bitship yesterday, but it matters little if he is safe to-day. I mind nowhe told me just afore we parted yesterday, that he thought it was quitepossible our little ship might have driven ashore here. But I hope hehasn't been rash in trying to climb where it's dangerous even for anactive boy like him."
"He told me last night," I said, "that he meant to look all along theshore as far as this. Papa said we were to come here just in case--"
We were getting close into shore now, and Ralph, standing up in front ofme, held his oar to push us off from the rocks until we reached ourusual place for landing. George sat facing me, so that Ralph was theonly one who was able to see well ahead at the moment. There wassomething in his manner which startled me, as he bent down all at onceand simply said, "Grandfather!" George turned round in a moment, and hisshort ejaculation and smothered "Oh!" confirmed me in a terrible fearthey had made some discovery, and almost at the same instant, leaningforward, I could see my cousin lying prostrate on the beach just by theWhite Rock, at the bottom of a steep part of the cliff, and scarcely afoot from the water's edge.
I felt my knees shaking, as I tried to rise and could not; tried tospeak, and the words died on my lips; then, for a moment, buried my facein my hands, and gasped out presently, "He's dead." I thought for amoment that I should die too, the sense of utter, hopeless, unbearablemisery seemed so terrible.
THE DISCOVERY.]
George only answered, "Please the Lord, Master Willie, it may not be sobad as that;" and hastily drawing in the boat to the rocks, he leaptashore, and made his way, in less time than it takes to relate, to wheremy cousin was lying. Ralph and I got ashore also, but my knees trembledso that I could not stand, but sunk down upon the rock. Ralph flung therope to me. "Keep her from drifting, master," he said, "and I'll run andhelp grandfather."
It was a moment of terrible suspense. Groves knelt at Aleck's side, benthis cheek down to his lips, then listened for the beating of hisheart--he might have heard mine at that minute--and then turning towardsme he exclaimed, "He's still alive!"
I had courage to move now, and fastening the rope, I came and stood byGroves, as he knelt on the beach beside Aleck. I could scarcely believeit was not death when I looked at the colourless face and closed eyes,and needed all Groves' reassurance to convince me that he had not beenmistaken when he said my cousin was still alive.
"Thank God, Master Willie, we came when we did!" he added reverently,and pointing to the waves as they washed up to our feet; "ten minutesmore, and the tide will be up over this place where he's lying.
We mustmove him at once--but he's deadly cold. Off with your jacket, Ralph andput it over him, and--oh! see here!" he pointed to the arm which hungdown heavily as he gently raised the unconscious form,--"the arm'sbroken."
The question now was how we were to get him home. By land it would notbe more than an hour's climb; but then a _climb_ it must be, and thiswas almost impossible under the circumstances; whilst, on the otherhand, with the wind no longer in our favour, it would be a good twohours getting back by water, and there was the anxiety of not being ableto let my father know.
Whilst George was anxiously deliberating with himself--for neither of usboys were in a state to offer any suggestions--we looked up, and saw myfather rapidly descending the hill-side.
In another moment he stood in the midst of our little group, and hadheard how it was with my cousin. "I feared so," he said, "when I saw youall standing together. Thank God, the child is still alive!"
There was no longer any questioning of what was best to be done. Myfather was always able to decide things in a moment. "It would be toogreat a risk to carry him without any stretcher. We must take him roundin the boat. How's the wind, George?"
"Not favourable, sir; we must trust more to the oars."
"Then you and Ralph must row. Willie, I think I can trust you, butremember a great deal may depend upon your carrying your messagecorrectly. Run home as quickly as you can by the lower wood, it's quitesafe that way; tell mamma that Aleck is hurt, and that Rickson must gooff for Dr. Wilson in the dog-cart at once; if Dr. Wilson cannot befound, he must bring Mr. Bryant; and James must bring down the carriageto wait for us at the lodge. Don't frighten your mamma; tell her asquietly and gently as you can. If you meet Mr. Glengelly, tell himfirst, and he will break it to mamma. Do you quite understand?"
"Yes, papa," I replied, thankful to have something given me to do, andyet feeling as if I were in the midst of a terrible waking dream. Aftermy father had taken the precaution of once again repeating hisdirections, I sped off up the steep hill-side, by way of the lower wood,towards home, whilst he gently lifted up my cousin and carried him tothe boat.
I shall never forget that walk home--_walk_ I call it, though, whereverrunning was possible, I _ran_. The feeling of misery and terror that wasupon me, seemed to be mocked by the gay twittering of the birds, and thedancing of the sunbeams through the leaves, and the familiar appearanceof the laden blackberry bushes, and copses famous for rich returns inthe nutting season. Everything in nature looking so undisturbed andunaffected by what was filling me with grief, appeared to add to mywretchedness. All the way along, I had the vision of my cousin's paleface before my eyes. True, he was not dead; but, child that I was, I hadsufficient sense to know that often death followed an accident whichwas not immediately fatal, and _if_ he died it would be almost as thoughI had murdered him. I can remember trying hard to fancy it was adreadful dream, and that I should wake up, as I had done on thepreceding night, to find that my fears were all unreal; and as everystep, bringing me nearer home, made this increasingly impossible toimagine, I changed the subject of my speculations, and took toremembering all the dreadful things I had ever read in history orstory-books, of people dying of broken hearts, or living on and neversmiling again, and fancying it was going to be the same with me; and Igrew quite frightened, and trembled so much that I scarcely knew how toclimb up the steep bits of the path.
I was still about a quarter of a mile from the house when I met Mr.Glengelly, who was also on the search for Aleck. It was a wonderfulrelief to have some one to speak to after the long silence of the pasthour, and to be cheered up by his assurance that a broken arm was novery formidable accident after all, and that a little severe pain, and afew weeks invalidism, sounded very alarming, but would in reality passquickly by.
"Then you think, perhaps Aleck won't die," I faltered, struggling to getbreath, for the haste in which I had come had made speaking difficult.
"Die!" echoed my tutor cheerily; "why, Willie, people don't die of abroken arm! I broke my arm when I was a little boy of twelve, and yousee I'm alive still." I smiled faintly; it was so much better thananything I had expected to hear. "It's true," added the tutor, "thatthere may be more than the broken arm, but we must hope for the best. Inthe meantime, Willie, you have had enough running, you are quite out ofbreath, and had better come the rest of the way quietly; I will go onand carry out your father's directions."
When I reached home every one seemed in a bustle, and too busy to takeany notice of me. My mother indeed spared time to tell me I had been agood brave boy to come home so fast with the message, and that I hadbetter go and sit quietly to rest in the school-room; but she hurriedaway immediately to finish her preparations, and I found she was gettingthe spare room next to her own ready for Aleck, instead of the littleroom next to mine.
I had a lingering hope that Mr. Glengelly might appear in theschool-room, but he had gone down with Bennet to the lodge to see if hecould be of use when the boat came in, so that I was quite alone, andcould only watch from the half-open door the doings of the servants asthey passed to and fro, all seeming in a flutter, and as if it lay uponthem as a duty to move about, and run hither and thither, without anyparticular object that I could discover.
After about an hour, the sound of wheels on the drive announced theapproach of the carriage. I sprang to my post of observation, and sawAleck, still deathly pale, and unconscious, carried carefully in by myfather and Mr. Glengelly, and my mother on the first landing of thestairs, looking terribly anxious but perfectly composed, beckoning themup, as she said to my father,--
"Everything is ready, dear, in the room next to ours."
Then they all went up-stairs, and I saw nothing more until, a fewmoments later, Mr. Glengelly looked in and told me I was to go to dinnerby myself, as he was going to drive to Elmworth at once, and my parentscould not come down-stairs.
It seemed strange and forlorn to go into our large dining-room, and sitat the table all by myself, whilst James stood behind me and changed myplate, and handed me the dishes all in their proper order, as if I hadbeen grown up. I was hungry, or rather, perhaps, stood in need of food,after the morning's exertions, but I felt quite surprised at my ownutter indifference as to _what_ I had to eat, when I had the opportunityof an entirely free selection. I took my one help of tart, and a singlepeach, without the shadow of a desire such as is common to children, andwhich I should in happier times unquestionably have shared, to improvethe occasion by a little extra allowance.
I had scarcely finished when my mother came in for two or three minutes.
"Mamma," I said, running eagerly to her, "do tell me, will Aleck die?"
"My darling," she answered, "we cannot say how much he is hurt until thedoctor comes;" and she stooped down to kiss away the tears that came tomy eyes when I noticed the sad, quiet voice with which she spoke, sounlike Mr. Glengelly's cheerful, re-assuring manner. "You must pray toGod, my child, that if it be His will he may recover, and try to cheerup, because there is still hope the injury may not prove very serious;we must hope for the best. I am going to bring papa up a glass of wineand a biscuit; will you carry up the plate for me?"
Just as we were going up-stairs, she added, to comfort me,--
"Willie, my child, how thankful I feel that you had nothing to do withthe loss of the ship."
At which, observation--from her point of view, consolatory; from mine,like a dagger-thrust--I became so convulsed with sobs, that my motherslipped into the room where Aleck was, laid down the plate and thewine-glass, and returning again, took me down to the school-room, andsimply devoted herself for some minutes to soothing me back intocomposure. She rose to go, but I clung to her dress; "Mamma, mamma," Ientreated, "don't leave me, please don't leave me."
"I _must_ leave you, Willie," she answered, "and you must try to bear upbravely for my sake, and for Aleck's. You will do what you can to helpin this sad time of trouble, and not add to my distress by giving waylike this. You are over-tired, I think, and had better take a boo
k, andstay here for the present, and lie down on the sofa and rest.Afterwards, if you like, you can go in the garden."
I preferred remaining in the school-room; I could see the hall-door, andup the first flight of stairs, and could hear the opening and shuttingof doors up-stairs, and occasional remarks from passers through thehall, so that I felt less lonely than I knew I should feel in thegarden. Frisk came and sat with his fore-paws on my lap--he seemed awarethat something had gone wrong--and wagged his tail, not merrily, butslowly and mournfully, as if to express, after his fashion, how truly hesympathized in our distress.
At last, once again there was the sound of wheels; it was the dog-cartthis time, and Frisk threw back his head, pricked up his ears, and,with a quick bark, darted off to sanction the arrival of the doctor withhis presence.
My father, too, was at the hall-door in an instant.
"I am thankful to see you," he said, as the doctor sprung from thedog-cart; "you have heard the circumstances?"
"I have," answered Dr. Wilson, following my father quickly up-stairs."Is he still unconscious?"
The answer was lost to me; but all at once, as I thought of Dr. Wilson,and how much depended upon his visit, the recollection of my mother'swords came back to me, "We must pray God, Willie, if it be His willAleck may get better;" and with a sudden impulse I jumped up, shut thedoor, and kneeling down, with my head pressed upon my hands, I prayedwith a sort of intensity I had never known before: "O Lord, make Aleckwell, do make Aleck well, don't let him die,"--repeating the words overand over again, and getting up with some dim sense of comfort in mymind, as I thought that God had the power as much now as when in ourhuman nature He walked upon this world, to heal all that were ill; andhad He not said, "Ask, and you shall receive?"
Why was it that the verse which I had repeated that morning to mymother, after breakfast, came back so often to my mind? "_If I regardiniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me._" Generally my motherexplained my daily text, but this morning, owing to the anxiety aboutAleck's disappearance, there had not been the usual time, and she hadsimply heard the verse, and sent me off, as before-mentioned, to theschool-room. Now I took to explaining it for myself. What business had Ito pray with that iniquity hidden in my heart, of which no one knew butGod? How could I get forgiven? what was I to do?
Conscience took courage and put in the suggestion, "Confess boldly toyour parents the sin that is lying so heavily upon you." But then thethought that, if Aleck never got better, they would think me hismurderer, took possession of me, and I took pains to convince myself,against my own reason, that after all, I had not actually been guiltyof falsehood, since the real manner in which the ship had been lost wasactually guessed by my father; that it would do no good if I were togive them the pain of knowing that I had allowed it to happen, having itin my power to prevent it; that, after all, it would be enough toconfess to God and get forgiven.
But the reasoning, though for a time it silenced the promptings ofconscience, did not give me peace of mind; and a sense that I could notpray--that, at least, my prayers would do no good--took from me the onlycomfort that was worth thinking of.
I was so taken up with these reflections, that I never heard steps uponthe stairs, and started with an exclamation almost of fright when thedoor opened rather quickly, and my father and Dr. Wilson came in.
"Why, Willie, there's nothing to be frightened at," exclaimed my father."Here's Dr. Wilson come to cheer us up about Aleck, who is to get quitewell by-and-by, we hope."
"Yes, yes, little man," said Dr. Wilson, kindly chucking me under thechin, after a fashion which I have noticed prevails amongst grown-uptall people who are amiably disposed towards children; "we shall soonhope to bring him round again. With all your monkey-like ways ofclimbing about the rocks, my only wonder is I've not had you for apatient long ago!"
Something seemed to strike him in the face he was holding up by thechin, and releasing me from a quick glance of inspection, he askedpresently whether I had seen Aleck, and listened to the account I had togive of how Ralph had first noticed him lying at the foot of the rock.
Then he and my father stepped out by the window, and walked up and downon the lawn; and I heard Dr. Wilson say to my father, "Any one can seethe boy has had a shock; take care he does not get frightened."
From the fragments of conversation which reached me,--sitting as I didin the open window, whilst they passed by, walking up and down on thelawn outside,--I gathered that they were discussing the possibility ofcommunication with Uncle and Aunt Gordon; and as they came in againthrough the school-room, my father said, "You are sure that the crisiswill be over by that time?"
"Quite sure. There is nothing for it now but perfect quiet, theadministration of the medicines and cordials I have prescribed, whenpossible, and close watch of all the symptoms. I can assure you I am notwithout hope. You may look for me again by ten o'clock."
And so saying, Dr. Wilson drove rapidly off, and my father went backagain to Aleck's room. I think it must have been his planning, thatnurse soon afterwards came down to the school-room and bestowed hercompany upon me for quite a long time, entertaining me at first, ormeaning to entertain me, by a wearisome narration about a little boy wholived nowhere in particular a long time ago; but she wakened up all myinterest when at last, unable to keep off the subject as she hadintended, she gave me a detailed account of my cousin having been putinto the bed in the spare room; and how he had lain so still, she couldscarcely believe her senses he was not dead; and how, when Dr. Wilsonset his arm, the pain of the operation seemed to waken him up for amoment from the stupor, but he had gone back again almost immediately."The doctor said," she added, "that it was the injury to the head thatwas of the greatest consequence--the arm was nothing to signify, a meresimple fracture; as if a broken arm were a mere nothing. I should liketo know whether, _if his own_ were broken, he would call it a simplefracture, and say it didn't signify!" And nurse looked righteouslyindignant, and as if she would be rather glad than otherwise for Dr.Wilson to meet with an accident, and learn, by personal experience, thetrue measure of insignificance or importance attaching to a broken limb.Remembering, however, at this point, the inconvenience which mightresult to ourselves from such a catastrophe, she retreated from theposition, and took to speculating what the doctor's views were likely tobe with reference to his night accommodation; whether he would go"between sheets," or merely lie down on the sofa, and what motives mightbe likely to influence him towards either decision; reasoning it all outto me as if I had been grown-up.
In fact, one of the peculiar sensations which are stamped upon everyrecollection of that long sad day, was that of being treated as though Iwere a "person," and not a child, by almost every member of thecommunity; a sensation bringing with it a dim sense of glory--that mighthave been--but which my guilty position kept me back from enjoying.
Both my parents came down to a sort of dinner-tea, which we had togetherat about seven o'clock, and my mother stayed a little while with meafterwards, and then sent me off, rather earlier than usual, to bed,upon the plea of my being weary with the long, anxious day.