"Miss Walkinghame?" said the sailor, who had felt at home with her at the first word, and she flew into his great rough arms.
"Harry! this is dear Harry! our own dear sailor come back," cried she, as her husband stood astonished; and, springing towards him, she put Harry's hand into his, "My brother Harry! our dear lost one."
"Your--brother--Harry," slowly pronounced George, as he instinctively gave the grasp of greeting--"your brother that was lost? Upon my word," as the matter dawned fully on him, and he became eager, "I am very glad to see you. I never was more rejoiced in my life."
"When did you come? Have you been at home?" asked Flora.
"I came home yesterday--Mary wrote to tell you."
"Poor dear old Mary! There's a lesson against taking a letter on trust. I thought it would be all Cocksmoor, and would wait for a quiet moment! How good to come to me so soon, you dear old shipwrecked mariner!"
"I was forced to come to report myself," said Harry, "or I could not have come away from my father so soon."
The usual questions and their sad answers ensued, and while Flora talked to Harry, fondly holding his hand, Norman and Meta explained the history to George, who no sooner comprehended it, that he opined it must have been a horrid nuisance, and that Harry was a gallant fellow; then striking him over the shoulder, welcomed him home with all his kind heart, told him he was proud to receive him, and falling into a state of rapturous hospitality, rang the bell, and wanted to order all sorts of eatables and drinkables, but was sadly baffled to find him already satisfied.
There was more open joy than even at home, and Flora was supremely happy as she sat between her brothers, listening and inquiring till far past one o'clock, when she perceived poor George dozing off, awakened every now and then by a great nod, and casting a wishful glance of resigned remonstrance, as if to appeal against sitting up all night.
The meeting at breakfast was a renewal of pleasure. Flora was proud and happy in showing off her little girl, a model baby, as she called her, a perfect doll for quietness, so that she could be brought in at family prayers; "and," said Flora, "I am the more glad that she keeps no one away, because we can only have evening prayers on Sunday. It is a serious thing to arrange for such a household."
"She is equal to anything," said George.
The long file of servants marched in, George read sonorously, and Flora rose from her knees, highly satisfied at the impression produced upon her brothers.
"I like to have the baby with us at breakfast," she said; "it is the only time of day when we can be sure of seeing anything of her, and I like her nurse to have some respite. Do you think her grown, Norman?"
"Not very much," said Norman, who thought her more inanimate and like a pretty little waxen toy, than when he had last seen her. "Is she not rather pale?"
"London makes children pale. I shall soon take her home to acquire a little colour. You must know Sir Henry has bitten us with his yachting tastes, and as soon as we can leave London, we are going to spend six weeks with the Walkinghames at Ryde, and rival you, Harry. I think Miss Leonora will be better at home, so we must leave her there. Lodgings and irregularities don't suit people of her age."
"Does home mean Stoneborough?" asked Norman.
"No. Old nurse has one of her deadly prejudices against Preston, and I would not be responsible for the consequences of shutting them up in the same nursery. Margaret would be distracted between them. No, miss, you shall make her a visit every day, and be fondled by your grandpapa."
George began a conversation with Harry on nautical matters, and Norman tried to discover how Meta liked the yachting project, and found her prepared to think it charming. Hopes were expressed that Harry might be at Portsmouth, and a quantity of gay scheming ensued, with reiterations of the name of Walkinghame; while Norman had a sense of being wrapped in some gray mist, excluding him from participation in their enjoyments, and condemned his own temper as frivolous for being thus excited to discontent.
Presently, he heard George insisting that he and Harry should return in time for the evening party; and, on beginning to refuse, was amazed to find Harry's only objection was on the score of lack of uniform.
"I don't want you in one, sir," said Flora.
"I have only one coat in the world, besides this," continued Harry, "and that is all over tar."
"George will see to that," said Flora. "Don't you think you would be welcome in matting, with an orange cowry round your neck?"
Norman, however, took a private opportunity of asking Harry if he was aware of what he was undertaking, and what kind of people they should meet.
"All English people behave much the same in a room," said Harry, as if all society, provided it was not cannibal, were alike to him.
"I should have thought you would prefer finding out Forder in his chambers, or going to one of the theatres."
"As you please," said Harry; "but Flora seems to want us, and I should rather like to see what sort of company she keeps."
Since Harry was impervious to shyness, Norman submitted, and George took them to a wonder-worker in cloth, who undertook that full equipments should await the young gentleman. Harry next despatched his business at the Admiralty, and was made very happy by tidings of his friend Owen's safe arrival in America.
Thence the brothers went to Eton, where home letters had been more regarded; and Dr. May having written to secure a holiday for the objects of their visit, they were met at the station by the two boys. Hector's red face and prominent light eyebrows were instantly recognised; but, as to Tom, Harry could hardly believe that the little, dusty, round-backed grub be had left had been transformed into the well-made gentlemanlike lad before him, peculiarly trim and accurate in dress, even to the extent of as much foppery as Eton taste permitted.
Ten minutes had not passed before Tom, taking a survey of the newcomer, began to exclaim at Norman, for letting him go about such a figure; and, before they knew what was doing, they had all been conducted into the shop of the "only living man who knew how to cut hair." Laughing and good-natured, Harry believed his hair was "rather long," allowed himself to be seated, and to be divested of a huge superfluous mass of sun-dried curls, which Tom, particularly resenting that "rather long," kept on taking up, and unrolling from their tight rings, to measure the number of inches.
"That is better," said he, as they issued from the shop; "but, as to that coat of yours, the rogue who made it should never make another. Where could you have picked it up?"
"At a shop at Auckland," said Harry, much amused.
"Kept by a savage?" said Tom, to whom it was no laughing matter. See that seam!"
"Have done, May!" exclaimed Hector. "He will think you a tailor's apprentice!"
"Or worse," said Norman. "Rivers's tailor kept all strictures to himself."
Tom muttered that he only wanted Harry to be fit to be seen by the fellows.
"The fellows are not such asses as you!" cried Hector. "You don't deserve that he should come to see you. If my--"
There poor Hector broke off. If his own only brother had been walking beside him, how would he not have felt? They had reached their tutor's house, and, opening his own door, he made an imploring sign to Harry to enter with him. On the table lay a letter from Margaret, and another which Harry had written to him from Auckland.
"Oh, Harry, you were with him," he said; "tell me all about him."
And he established himself, with his face hidden on the table, uttering nothing, except, "Go on," whenever Harry's voice failed in the narration. When something was said of "all for the best," he burst out, "He might say so. I suppose one ought to think so. But is not it hard, when I had nobody but him? And there was Maplewood; and I might have been so happy there, with him and Margaret."
"They say nothing could have made Margaret well," said Harry.
"I don't care; he would have married her all the same, and we should have made her so happy at Maplewood. I hate the place! I wish it were at Jericho!"
&
nbsp; "You are captain of the ship now," said Harry, "and you must make the best of it."
"I can't. It will never be home. Home is with Margaret, and the rest of them."
"So Alan said he hoped you would make it; and you are just like one of us, you know."
"What's the use of that, when Captain Gordon will not let me go near you. Taking me to that abominable Maplewood last Easter, with half the house shut up, and all horrid! And he is as dry as a stick!"
"The captain!" cried Harry angrily. "There's not a better captain to sail with in the whole navy, and your brother would be the first to tell you so! I'm not discharged yet. Hector--you had better look out what you say!"
"Maybe he is the best to sail with, but that is not being the best to live with," said the heir of Maplewood disconsolately. "Alan himself always said he never knew what home was, till he got to your father and Margaret."
"So will you," said Harry; "why, my father is your master, or whatever you may call it."
"No, Captain Gordon is my guardian."
"Eh! what's become of the will then?"
"What will?" cried Hector. "Did Alan make one after all?"
"Ay. At Valparaiso, he had a touch of fever; I went ashore to nurse him, to a merchant's, who took us in for love of our Scottish blood. Mr. Ernescliffe made a will there, and left it in his charge."
"Do you think he made Dr. May my guardian?"
"He asked me whether I thought he would dislike it, and I told him, no."
"That's right!" cried Hector. "That's like dear old Alan! I shall get back to the doctor and Margaret after all. Mind you write to the captain, Harry!"
Hector was quite inspirited and ready to return to the others, but Harry paused to express a hope that he did not let Tom make such a fool of himself as he had done to-day.
"Not he," said Hector. "He is liked as much as any one in the house- -he has been five times sent up for good. See there in the Eton list! He is a real clever fellow."
"Ay, but what's the good of all that, if you let him be a puppy?"
"Oh, he'll be cured. A fellow that has been a sloven always is a puppy for a bit," said Hector philosophically.
Norman was meantime taking Tom to task for these same airs, and, hearing it was from the desire to see his brother respectable-- Stoneborough men never cared for what they looked like, and he must have Harry do himself credit.
"You need not fear," said Norman. "He did not require Eton to make him a gentleman. How now? Why, Tom, old man, you are not taking that to heart? That's all over long ago."
For that black spot in his life had never passed out of the lad's memory, and it might be from the lurking want of self-respect that there was about him so much of self-assertion, in attention to trifles. He was very reserved, and no one except Norman had ever found the way to anything like confidence, and Norman had vexed him by the proposal he had made in the holidays.
He made no answer, but stood looking at Norman with an odd undecided gaze.
"Well, what now, old fellow?" said Norman, half fearing "that" might not be absolutely over. "One would think you were not glad to see Harry."
"I suppose he has made you all the more set upon that mad notion of yours," said Tom.
"So far as making me feel that that part of the world has a strong claim on us," replied Norman.
"I'm sure you don't look as if you found your pleasure in it," cried Tom.
"Pleasure is not what I seek," said Norman.
"What is the matter with you?" said Tom. "You said I did not seem rejoiced--you look worse, I am sure." Tom put his arm on Norman's shoulder, and looked solicitously at him--demonstrations of affection very rare with him.
"I wonder which would really make you happiest, to have your own way, and go to these black villains--"
"Remember, that but for others who have done so, Harry--"
"Pshaw," said Tom, rubbing some invisible dust from his coat sleeve. "If it would keep you at home, I would say I never would hear of doctoring."
"I thought you had said so."
"What's the use of my coming here, if I'm to be a country doctor?"
"I have told you I do not mean to victimise you. If you have a distaste to it, there's an end of it--I am quite ready."
Tom gave a great sigh. "No," he said, "if I must, I must; I don't mind the part of it that you do. I only hate the name of it, and the being tied down to a country place like that, while you go out thousands of miles off to these savages; but if it is the only thing to content you, I wont stand in your way. I can't bear your looking disconsolate."
"Don't think yourself bound, if you really dislike the profession."
"I don't," said Tom. "It is my free choice. If it were not for horrid sick people, I should like it."
Promising! it must be confessed!
Perhaps Tom had expected Norman to brighten at once, but it was a fallacious hope. The gaining his point involved no pleasant prospect, and his young brother's moody devotion to him suggested scruples whether he ought to exact the sacrifice, though, in his own mind, convinced that it was Tom's vocation; and knowing that would give him many of the advantages of an eldest son.
Eton fully justified Hector's declaration that it would not regard the cut of Harry's coat. The hero of a lost ship and savage isle was the object of universal admiration and curiosity, and inestimable were the favours conferred by Hector and Tom in giving introductions to him, till he had shaken hands with half the school, and departed amid deafening cheers.
In spite of Harry, the day had been long and heavy to Norman, and though he chid himself for his depression, he shrank from the sight of Meta and Sir Henry Walkinghame together, and was ready to plead an aching head as an excuse for not appearing at the evening party; but, besides that this might attract notice, he thought himself bound to take care of Harry in so new a world, where the boy must be at a great loss.
"I say, old June," cried a voice at his door, "are you ready?"
"I have not begun dressing yet. Will you wait?"
"Not I. The fun is beginning."
Norman heard the light foot scampering downstairs, and prepared to follow, to assume the protection of him.
Music sounded as Norman left his room, and he turned aside to avoid the stream of company flowing up the flower-decked stairs, and made his way into the rooms through Flora's boudoir. He was almost dazzled by the bright lights, and the gay murmurs of the brilliant throng. Young ladies with flowers and velvet streamers down their backs, old ladies portly and bejewelled, gentlemen looking civil, abounded wherever he turned his eyes. He could see Flora's graceful head bending as she received guest after guest, and the smile with which she answered congratulations on her brother's return; but Harry he did not so quickly perceive, and he was trying to discover in what corner he might have hidden himself, when Meta stood beside him, asking whether their Eton journey had prospered, and how poor Hector was feeling at Harry's return.
"Where is Harry?" asked Norman. "Is he not rather out of his element?"
"No, indeed," said Meta, smiling. "Why, he is the lion of the night!"
"Poor fellow, how he must hate it!"
"Come this way, into the front room. There, look at him--is it not nice to see him, so perfectly simple and at his ease, neither shy nor elated? And what a fine-looking fellow he is!"
Meta might well say so. The trim, well-knit, broad-chested form, the rosy embrowned honest face, the shining light-brown curly locks, the dancing well-opened blue eyes, and merry hearty smile showed to the best advantage, in array that even Tom would not have spurned, put on with naval neatness; and his attitude and manner were so full of manly ease, that it was no wonder that every eye rested on him with pleasure. Norman smiled at his own mistake, and asked who were the lady and gentleman conversing with him. Meta mentioned one of the most distinguished of English names, and shared his amusement in seeing Harry talking to them with the same frank unembarrassed ease as when he had that morning shaken hands with their son, in the capa
city of Hector Ernescliffe's fag. No one present inspired him with a tithe of the awe he felt for a post-captain--it was simply a pleasant assembly of good-natured folks, glad to welcome home a battered sailor, and of pretty girls, for whom he had a sailor's admiration, but without forwardness or presumption--all in happy grateful simplicity.
"I suppose you cannot dance?" said Flora to him.
"I!" was Harry's interjection; and while she was looking round for a partner to whom to present him, he had turned to the young daughter of his new acquaintance, and had her on his arm, unconscious that George had been making his way to her.
Flora was somewhat uneasy, but the mother was looking on smiling, and expressed her delight in the young midshipman; and Mrs. Rivers, while listening gladly to his praises, watched heedfully, and was reassured to see that dancing was as natural to him as everything else; his steps were light as a feather, his movement all freedom and joy, without being boisterous, and his boyish chivalry as pretty a sight as any one could wish to see.
If the rest of the world enjoyed their dances a quarter as much as did "Mr. May," they were enviable people, and he contributed not a little to their pleasure, if merely by the sight of his blithe freshness and spirited simplicity, as well as the general sympathy with his sister's joy, and the interest in his adventures. He would have been a general favourite, if he had been far less personally engaging; as it was, every young lady was in raptures at dancing with him, and he did his best to dance with them all; and to try to stir up Norman, who, after Meta had been obliged to leave him, and go to act her share of the part of hostess, had disposed of himself against a wall, where he might live out the night.
"Ha! June! what makes you stand sentry there? Come and dance, and have some of the fun! Some of these girls are the nicest partners in the world. There's that Lady Alice, something with the dangling things in her hair, sitting down now--famous at a polka. Come along, I'll introduce you. It will do you good."
"I know nothing of dancing," said Norman, beginning to apprehend that he might be dragged off, as often he had been to cricket or football, and by much the same means.
The Daisy Chain, or Aspirations Page 72