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THE SILVER LINING
_A GUERNSEY STORY._
BY
JOHN ROUSSEL.
Guernsey:
FREDERICK BLONDEL GUERIN,
"THE SUN" OFFICE, HIGH STREET.
1894.
INDEX.
CHAPTER I.--THE RESULTS OF DISOBEDIENCE 3
II.--A LITTLE GIRL'S CHANGE OF LIFE 15
III.--THE BOARDING SCHOOL 24
IV.--THE INFLUENCES OF A GOOD HOME 33
V.--THE REWARD OF INORDINATE AMBITION 45
VI.--NEW ACQUAINTANCES 54
VII.--AN ABRUPT DISMISSAL 62
VIII.--AN UNPLEASANT VISIT 72
IX.--DECEPTIONS 79
X.--'TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY 84
XI.--BUSINESS 91
XII.--A STRANGE MEETING 96
XIII.--SUPERSTITION 102
XIV.--FAILURE 107
XV.--DARK DAYS 115
XVI.--SHADOW AND SUNSHINE 125
XVII.--THE EFFECTS OF A SERMON 130
XVIII.--SUCCESS AFTER SUCCESS 135
XIX.--TOM'S INTERVIEW WITH MRS. VIDOUX 143
XX.--TOM'S VISIT TO HIS UNCLE 148
XXI.--THE ENCOUNTER 153
XXII.--FATHER AND DAUGHTER 159
XXIII.--A SECRET CORRESPONDENCE 163
XXIV.--MR. ROUGEANT GOES TO CHURCH 169
XXV.--LOVE TRIUMPHS 173
XXVI.--WEDDED 183
XXVII.--RECONCILIATION 189
XXVIII.--A SAD END OF A MISPENT LIFE 197
XXIX.--DOMESTIC HAPPINESS 205
THE SILVER LINING.
A GUERNSEY STORY.
CHAPTER I.
THE RESULTS OF DISOBEDIENCE.
One fine summer afternoon--it was the month of June--the sea was
calm, the air was still, and the sun was warm.
The mackerel boats from Cobo (a bay in the island of Guernsey) were
setting sail; an old woman was detaching limpets from the rocks, and
slowly, but steadily, filling up her basket. On the west side of the
bay, two air-starved Londoners were sitting on the sand, basking in
the sunshine, determined to return home, if not invigorated, at
least bronzed by the sea air. On the east side, a few little boys
were bathing. A middle-aged man, engaged in searching for sand-eels,
completed the picture.
A little boy, who might have been nine years of age, was standing in
the road gazing upon this scene. The way in which he was clothed,
betokened that he was not one of the lads that lived in the vicinity
of that bay. He was dressed in a well-fitting knickerbocker suit,
and his polished boots, his well combed hair, denoted that he was an
object of especial care at home. He possessed a very intelligent
air, a fine forehead, rather large eyes which were full of
expression, and his frowning look, the way in which he stamped his
little foot, denoted that he was of an impulsive temperament. This
little fellow had some very good ideas. He had determined to be
good, and unselfish; and he tried to learn as much as he possibly
could. His mother had told him that later on this would help him in
life.
Once, an inquisitive pedlar, noticing his intelligence, and his
garrulous disposition, asked him jokingly if he ever intended to
marry. Upon which Frank Mathers (this was the boy's name) assumed a
serious air, and giving his head a little toss he answered, "I do
not know yet, there are so many beautiful little girls everywhere,
one does not know which one to choose."
A physiognomist might easily have seen that in this little boy's
soul a struggle was going on. "Shall I go?" he was saying to
himself; "shall I go and amuse myself?" His conscience had a great
power over him; but the beautiful sea was tempting, each wave as it
fell produced a sound which was sweeter to his ears than the
sweetest music.
"Your mother has forbidden you to go;" said his conscience; "you
must obey her."
He continued to remain undecided between pleasure and duty, the
strife going on meanwhile within him. All at once, he espied on his
extreme left four small boys about his size, who were coming out of
the water. How they laughed; how joyful they seemed to be; how they
made the water splash and foam around them. Frank immediately began
to run at full speed towards them, and covered the space of sand
which separated him from the little boys in two minutes. He arrived
breathless near the group of children who were dressing themselves.
He looked at them, and was asking himself if he must go nearer to
them, when one of the group looked at him with a surly air. Little
Frank translated this into: "What business have you here?" and
retreated.
He began to examine the man who was looking for sand-eels. The
fisherman was digging in the gravel with a spade, and now and then a
few of the little fishes were dislodged from their hiding place.
They wriggled in such a lively fashion that Frank was greatly
amused, and forgot, for a time, all about his first desire of a run
in the sea.
He laughed aloud when he saw a big sand-eel, bigger than any which
the man had yet captured--for he took the trouble to go and see in
his basket--escape into the water and swim out of the man's reach.
The fisherman was evidently annoyed at having lost this fine
specimen, and when he saw this little fellow laughing, and standing
quite close to his basket, he grew angry, and in a rough tone of
voice, speaking in Guernsey French, he exclaimed: "Begone, you
impudent little rascal."
Now, little Frank did not know French, and consequently did not
understand a single word of what this man said, but he hastily
retreated. "He must have uttered something terrible," he said to
himself; "what an ugly face. Why is this man vexed with me? I have
done nothing to grieve him; only bent over his basket and laughed
when I saw that fish escape; but why did not the man laugh also? It
was so amusing."
He looked round to see whether he could discover any of those little
boys who had attracted his attention when he was in the road, but
none of them were visible. There were a few persons here and there,
but no one was near him. He made sure of this by directing his eyes
successively in the direction of every point of the compass. The
"sand-eel man" was still busy, but he was far enough. Frank hastened
behind a small rock and began to undress. As he did so, he
experienced a series of queer sensations. He was tasting pleasure at
the expense of his conscience, and, struggle as he would, he felt
unhappy. It was the first time that he thus openly disregarded his
mother's commands, and it cost him something to do so.
It did not take him long to divest himself of his clothing. He was
soon in the water, dancing and romping. The water around him
resembled that of Lodore.
He now felt happy, having forgotten all about his mother and the
errand which she had sent him to accomplish.
The water was warm; the little green crabs that walked sideways
passing quite close to him, amused him considerably. He passed a
portion of his time chasing them. Then he waded farther into the
water till it came up to his hips. Ah, this was pleasure indeed! He
would not have exchanged his place for a suite of rooms in
Buckingham Palace.
He had been in the water for about a quarter of an hour. He glanced
round to see if the fisherman was to be seen. No trace of him now.
"He has gone home," he thought. He began to feel cold. "I must go
and dress," he said to himself, "or I shall catch cold, and then
mamma will know that I have been bathing."
Frank proceeded towards the place where he had placed his clothes,
but as he approached the shore, he found that the water seemed to be
getting warmer. This discovery was the cause of his staying five
minutes longer in the water than he would otherwise have done.
Then he again betook himself towards _terra firma_. "Hullo,
what's this?" And he held up a boot. "How strange, it looks exactly
like mine," he muttered. Then a thought--a flash shot through his
brain, immediately followed by a pang through his heart. The
thought--"where are my clothes?"--the pang--the result of his
disappointing glance towards the place in which he had placed them.
He was out of the water in the twinkling of an eye. The boot which
he had found was in his hand. Where were his trousers? where was his
coat? There was his shirt being knocked about by the waves! He
rushed upon it, threw it on the gravel near his boot, and began
tremblingly to search for his other garments. He at last succeeded
in bringing together the following collection: One pair of trousers,
one stocking, one boot, one shirt. That was all.
He was now shivering from head to foot, his teeth chattered in his
mouth, his whole appearance was one of utter wretchedness. He did
not cry; he was too miserable; he only kept muttering: "I will never
disobey mamma any more; I will never do it, never, never."
He looked round to ascertain that no one was looking at him. What
was his vexation to discover the man with the sand-eels eyeing him,
a repulsive grin covering his whole face, and a small black pipe
stuck between his teeth.
This sight, instead of discouraging Frank, made him assume an air of
bravado. He took his shirt, wrung out the water, shook it and
proceeded to put it on. How cold it was; how it stuck to his little
body. It only made him shiver the more. He put his stocking on the
left foot; then he put on his trousers, and lastly, his boot. This
boot he put on the right foot so that his feet were both hidden from
view. Then with a heavy and repentant heart--what person is not
repentant when he sees himself in some nasty scrape caused by his
own sinfulness?--he directed his irregular steps towards his home. A
curious sight to gaze upon was this little fellow as he wearily
plodded on his way.
He had not advanced twenty yards when he took off his boot and put
it on the other foot. He could not endure the pain that it caused
him. He had not been accustomed to go without stockings, he had
never tried the experiment before, and he wondered why his feet were
so tender. He rose and began to walk once more. It was an unequal
walk, like that of a person with a short leg. He stopped again. Some
gravel had found its way into his boot, and the torture which it
caused him was unendurable. He carefully withdrew all the
pain-inflicting pebbles, brushed off the gravel that adhered to his
stocking, and resumed his laborious task of walking. When he came
into the road, the people which he met laughed at him. "Ah; what
nasty people there are in these places," he thought. He fancied he
was being punished. He had hoped to have had a lot of fun. He would
have returned home, invented some pretext for having been longer
than usual; and now, what a wretched plight he was in. Why was he
not punished in another way? this was too severe, he had never
sinned at that amount, he was receiving extra payment.
Thus soliloquized our little man when he arrived near a farm-house
called "Les Pins." He heard a pig squeak, and hastened along as fast
as his naked and now sore foot would allow him.
There, in the farmyard, was a sight which he had never before
witnessed. One man, a butcher, was pulling on a rope which was tied
around a porker's snout. Three other men were forcibly pushing the
animal along. They made but little progress however, for master
piggy placed his feet so firmly on the ground that it required all
the efforts of the four men to make him move.
At last he was with difficulty brought near the scaffold; the altar
upon which he was to be sacrificed to supply the voracious appetites
of man.
He was forcibly lifted upon the wooden bench and firmly held down.
Then the butcher twisted the piece of rope around his hand and the
pig's snout, and unsheathing a sharp knife, he plunged it in the
animal's throat. The porker's life-blood gushed out in a red stream.
Frank fairly danced with joy. He forgot all his troubles while
witnessing those of the pig. The latter tried to shake himself free.
He filled the air with protestations against the treatment to which
he was being subjected, he invoked his gods, but all in vain. Firmly
held down by the four men he soon ceased to struggle and lay quite
still.
"It does not seem to me," Frank heard one of the men remark, "that
he has given a very violent shake before dying, as porkers
generally do." "Oh, he is dead enough," said the butcher, "fetch the
water and let us make haste." The men obeyed the order which was
given rather peremptorily and the half drunk butcher followed them,
so did a lad of fourteen years (the heir to the estate), who,
according to a Guernsey custom, had been holding the pig's tail.
Frank was just considering whether he would go nearer to the animal
when the latter gave a jump. In a moment piggy got down and galloped
in an awkward fashion straight in the direction of Frank, who
uttered a cry of terror and ran away as fast as his legs would carry
him. He forgot all about his exposed foot, and received a few nasty
bruises and cuts against the sharp stones that were placed in the
road for macadamizing purposes.
He cast an anxious glance behind him to see if the porker was
following him, for he had now no other idea but that the pig was
being sent to complete the punishment which he thought had been
dealt out to him for his disobedience. But the porker was not to be
seen. He had fallen dead after having run a few yards. When Frank
came higher up the road, he proceeded to examine his foot. It hurt
him considerably. He tied his handkerchief around it and resumed his
walk. Seeing a great gap in the hedge he looked through it and saw
that the men were plunging the porker in a great tub full of
steaming water. Then followed a scraping with ormer shells, and, in
a few minutes, the black pig was divested of his hairy coat. His
skin was white and smooth, like those which Frank had seen at the
meat market.
Not caring to see more, and feeling very cold, he resumed his
journey homewards. He was so excited with what he had witnessed,
that he did not think so much about his wretched condition as he
would otherwise have done, and when he arrived in front of his
father's house, at the Rohais, he was almost cheerful.
But he suddenly stopped short. "If I go inside with this countenance
on, mamma will punish me severely," he thought.
He therefore called to his aid all the hypocrisy which his years
were able to muster, and assumed a most miserable expression. But
this was not enough to satisfy Frank's idea of the exigencies of the
present situation. He doubled his fists, rubbed his eyes vigorously,
and uttered a very plaintive and doleful cry.
Thus prepared, he entered the house by the back door, keeping a
sharp look out through the corner of his eyes for his mother. She
was not in the kitchen; he opened the door of the parlour; his eyes
reddened and moistened by the friction to which they were being
subjected, while his cries were heart-rending. Mrs. Mathers was not
in the parlour. He stopped his sham crying, sat himself on a chair
and listened eagerly for the sound of approaching footsteps; ready
to recommence his little game as soon as his mother entered the
house.
No sound of approaching footsteps were however heard. Frank Mathers
was now quite chilled, although the weather was very warm. His
excitement had abated and he was feeling down-hearted. There was no
fire in the room. Frank fetched a large coat (his father's) and
wrapped it around him. He was busily engaged in this operation when
his mother suddenly appeared upon the scene.
She wore slippers, which accounted for his not having heard her
footsteps.
"Well?" she said, wondering what her son was about, "what are you
wrapping yourself up for?"
Frank was taken by surprise. He looked up with a very confused air.
His mother misinterpreted his look. "Don't be silly, child," she
said, "have you carried that letter to Mr. Gavet."
"Yes, mamma," mumbled the little fellow, "but----" and he unbuttoned
his coat and exhibited his dilapidated state before the eyes of his
astonished mother. "What _have_ you been doing?" she questioned
anxiously. "My clothes were caught by the sea," he sobbed, and
genuine tears flowed down his cheeks.
Then he confessed everything to his mother; how he had been tempted
to enjoy himself despite her orders; how he had watched a man who
was catching sand-eels; and, finally, how his clothes had been
washed away by the rising tide.
When he had finished speaking, he raised his eyes to see what kind
of look his mother wore. Perceiving a cloud of sadness hanging over
her brow, he jumped up and exclaimed: "Oh, mamma, do not look at me
so; I will never disobey you any more."
The mother took the now repentant son upon her knees, and, after
having shown him the consequences of disobedience; after having
spoken to him of the pain which he caused her through showing a
disposition to do wrong and of the sin which he committed, she
instructed him tenderly, and made an impression on his soft heart,
such as a mother alone knows how to make. Then she kissed her son.
"You forgive me, then?" said the boy. "Yes, my dear, I forgive you."
Frank Mathers was so impressed with his mother's love that he
silently determined never again to grieve her. "Now let me change
your clothes. You might catch a severe cold and perhaps be ill for
weeks after this. Do you feel ill?"
"No, mamma, I am cold, that is all."
When Frank was eating his supper that evening, his heart was full of
thankfulness. "What a good mother I have," he thought, "I will never
do anything contrary to her orders any more." He suddenly stopped
eating. The thought of the porker struck him and he called out
gently: "Mamma."
"What is it my dear?"
"A dead pig came running after me."
Mrs. Mathers looked somewhat anxiously at her son. Was his mind
going out?
"They had killed a pig at a farm, and when they were gone to fetch
some water, the porker jumped down and came running after me," said
the little boy.
The slight shock which the mother had received, had sufficed to
flush her cheek.
There was something strange in that bright tint on her face, it
glowed with a strange light. Her eye had a kind, but far away
glance; an almost divine expression. It was full of tenderness and
melancholy. She seemed to belong to some other world then; her whole
soul seemed to shine in that sweet face. This was how she looked as
she gazed upon her son that evening, while he was finishing his
supper, seemingly not at all astonished at his mother's silence. He
had grown accustomed to these moments of pensiveness on his mother's
part. Of late, she often fell into a strange reverie, and little
Frank was yet too young to understand these symptoms always followed
by a short, hollow cough. His mother was attacked with phthisis.
When he had finished his supper, Frank again turned towards his
mother.
"How can a dead pig run?" he asked.
"The pig was not dead," said his mother; "now make haste and go to
bed. I don't want to have to nurse you to-morrow."
The little boy obeyed, muttering to himself: "The pig _was_ dead. I
believe what I have seen. Mamma must have misunderstood me."