Crag Cottage had been at Evelyn's desire so added to in the past years
that it could now accommodate a large number of guests. There were so
many who were near and dear to her, and whom she loved to gather about
her, that she could not be content till this was done. Now the families
of Fairview, Ion, and Woodburn were all spending the summer there;
also Ronald Lilburn and Annis, his wife--though just now several of
the gentlemen had gone to Cuba to learn of the welfare of Harold and
Herbert Travilla, about whom their mother had grown very solicitous.
They had been gone long enough for hopes to be entertained of their
speedy return, but there was no certainty in regard to the time of
their arrival at the cottage.
It was late in the afternoon. The elder people were gathered on the
front porch overlooking the river, most of the younger ones amusing
themselves about the grounds. Grandma Elsie was gazing out upon the
river, with a slightly anxious expression of countenance.
"Looking for the _Dolphin_, mamma?" asked her daughter Violet.
"Yes; though it is hardly time to expect her yet, I fear."
"Oh, yes, mamma, for there she is now!" exclaimed Violet, springing to
her feet in her delight, and pointing to a vessel passing up the river,
which had just come into sight.
Many of those on the porch and the young folks in the grounds had also
caught sight of her, and a joyous shout was raised: "The _Dolphin!_ the
_Dolphin!_ there she is! the folks have come!"
"Oh, can we run down and get aboard of her, mamma?" asked Elsie
Raymond. "I'm in such a hurry to see papa and get a kiss from him."
"You won't have long to wait for that, I am sure," returned her mother,
with a smile. "But it will be better to wait a few minutes and get
it here. There are so many of us that if we should all go down to the
landing we would be very much in the way."
Others thought the same, and the ladies and children waited where they
were while Mr. Leland and Edward, his eldest son, went down the winding
path that led to the little landing-place at the foot of the hill, to
greet the friends on board the yacht and give any assistance that might
be needed.
They found all well but the two doctors, Harold able to walk up to the
house with the help of a sustaining arm, Herbert having to be borne
on a litter. The mother's heart ached at sight of his wan cheeks and
sunken eyes, but he told her the joy of her presence and loving care
would soon work a change for the better. He was speedily carried to a
comfortable bed, and everything done to cheer, strengthen, and relieve
him.
Nor was Harold's reception any less tenderly affectionate and
sympathizing. His mother was very glad that he was not so ill as his
brother, and hoped the pure air and cooler climate would soon restore
him to his wonted health and strength.
"I hope so, mother dear," he said, forcing a playful tone and a smile,
"and that they will soon do as much for Herbert also. He, poor fellow,
is not fit to be up at all, and I think it will be well for me to
retire early."
"You must do just what you deem best for your health, my dear boy,"
said his mother. "But shall I not send for a physician, as I fear
neither of you is well enough to manage the case of the other?"
"No, no, mother, please don't!" exclaimed Herbert; "Harold is well
enough to prescribe for me, and I prefer him to any other doctor."
"As I should, if he were quite well," she said, regarding Harold with
a proud, fond smile, which he returned, saying in cheerful tones, "My
trouble is more weariness than illness, mother, and I hope a few days
of rest here in the pleasant society of relatives and friends will
quite restore me to wonted health and vigor."
"I hope so, indeed," she said, "and that Herbert may not be far behind
you in recovering his."
In the meantime joyful greetings were being exchanged among the
relatives and friends upon the porch, and the returned travellers were
telling of what they had seen and heard in their absence, especially on
the coast of Cuba. It was all very interesting to the auditors, but the
tale was not half told when the tea-bell summoned them to their evening
meal.
Chester had a good deal more to tell Lucilla as they wandered about
the grounds together after leaving the table. And she was greatly
interested.
"I should like to get aboard a battleship," she said; "particularly the
_Oregon_. What a grand vessel it must be!"
"It is," said Chester, "and did grand work in that battle; a battle
which will go down in history as a most remarkable one. I am proud of
the brave tars who fought it, and not less so of the fine fellows who
kept up the fires under the engines, which were as necessary to the
gaining of the victory as was the firing of the guns."
"But, oh, the terrible carnage!" exclaimed Lucilla, with a shudder.
"Yes, that was awful; and what a wonder--what a cause for gratitude to
God--that but one was killed and so few badly wounded on our ships."
"Yes, indeed! and truly I believe that was because we were fighting for
the deliverance of the downtrodden and oppressed. Don't you, Chester?"
"Most assuredly I do," was his emphatic rejoinder. "Has there been any
news from Manila?" he asked presently.
"No," she said, "but we are looking every day for a letter from Max.
Oh, I do hope he is still unharmed! That victory of Dewey's seems to me
to have been as great and wonderful as this later one at Santiago."
"So I think. Ah, Lu, darling, I wish Max might be ordered home soon,
both for his own sake and ours."
"Yes; but try to be patient," she returned, in a light and cheery tone.
"I am sure we are having pleasant times as things are, and we are
young enough to wait, as my father says. I am still almost three years
younger than he thinks a girl ought to be to undertake the cares of
married life."
"I don't mean you shall have much care, and I am sure you are fully
capable of all you would be called upon to do. My darling, if you don't
have an easy life it shall be from no fault of mine."
"I am sure of that, Chester, and not in the least afraid to trust my
happiness to your keeping. But I am willing to wait somewhat longer to
please father and to have Max present--especially as Eva's bridegroom.
Oh, I think a double wedding will be just lovely!"
"If one didn't have to wait for it," sighed Chester. "Yet it is a great
consolation that we can be together pretty nearly every day in the
year."
"Yes, you are a very attentive lover, and I appreciate it."
Later in the evening, when most of the guests had retired to their
apartments for the night, the captain and his eldest daughter had a bit
of private chat upon the porch, for she still retained her love for
that, and it was hardly less enjoyable to him.
"You don't know how I missed this bit of private talk with you, father,
while you were away on your little trip," she said, with a loving look
up into his eyes as she stood by his side with his arm about her waist.
"Probably not more than I did, daughter mine," he returned, stroking
her hair caressingly, then pressing his lips to her forehead and cheek.
"Pacing the deck alone I missed my little girl more than I can tell
her."
"Ah, didn't you almost wish you had granted my request to be allowed to
go along with you?" she asked, with a pleased little laugh.
"No, my child; you are too great a treasure for me willingly to expose
you to the risks of such a voyage at such a time."
"You dear father! you are so kindly careful of me, and of all your
children."
"It behooves a man to be careful of his treasures," he said. "I should
have greatly enjoyed your companionship, daughter, if I could have had
it without risk to you."
"I should have liked to see the warships and the scene of the battle,"
she said. "What a terrible battle it was, father--for the Spaniards, at
least."
"Yes," he sighed. "May the time soon come when men shall learn war no
more, but shall beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears
into pruning hooks."
"It doesn't seem as though that time can be very near," she said.
"Papa, do you think Max is in much danger there in Manila?"
"I hardly know, daughter; I hope we shall hear from him soon. I hardly
think there will be much, if any more, fighting for him to do there at
present. But his next letter will probably enable us to judge better
about that."
"Oh, I hope it will come soon!" she exclaimed in a tone of ardent
desire.
"As I do," he sighed. "I cannot but feel anxious about my dear boy;
though the worst seems to be over, there."
The next morning's mail brought the desired letters to father, sisters,
and ladylove. The captain's gave news of the doings of the army and
navy, and after a private perusal he read the greater part of it
aloud to the family and friends. It told of the irksomeness of their
situation, the weariness of the watching and waiting for troops that
did not come, the admiral's patience and forbearance in taking the
delay so quietly, the troubles with the insurgents under Aguinaldo,
and the commanders of the warships of several European nations. "We
know," he said, "that those fellows are looking out for the first sign
of weakness on our part, or the first disaster that might befall us,
intending to take advantage of it to intervene. I can tell you, father,
that Admiral Dewey is a credit to his country and that country's
navy. He is very kind-hearted, and takes excellent care of his men;
he is gentle, kind to all, but thorough, determined, and energetic;
everything under his control must be as perfect as possible. When
it comes to the necessity for fighting he believes in being most
thoroughly prepared, and striking quick, hard blows, soon putting the
enemy in a condition where it cannot fight. He says little or nothing
about what he expects, but seems to be always ready for whatever
happens. The behavior of the foreign ships must be a constant worry to
him, though he says little or nothing about it. The Germans here seem
to study methods of annoying us. Their ships are constantly coming in
or going out of Manila Bay at all hours, and on the most frivolous
pretexts--sometimes at night, in a way that makes our lookouts think
them Spanish torpedo boats; and should we send a shot at one of them
it might cause the gravest international complications. And the German
navy officers make the Spanish officers their chosen companions.
"The other day our admiral learned that one of the German vessels had
violated neutrality by landing provisions in Manila. He summoned the
flag lieutenant to his cabin and when the officer came--'Oh, Brumby,'
he said, 'I wish you to take the barge and go over to the German
flagship. Give Admiral von Diederich my compliments, and say that I
wish to call his attention to the fact that the vessels of his squadron
have shown an extraordinary disregard of the usual courtesies of
naval intercourse, and that finally one of them has committed a gross
breach of neutrality in landing provisions in Manila, a port which I
am blockading.' The admiral spoke in a quiet, gently modulated voice,
but as the lieutenant turned to go he called him back and added in a
wrathful tone, 'And, Brumby, tell Admiral von Diederich that if he
wants a fight, he can have it right now.'
"The message had the desired effect, and we have had much less
annoyance from the Germans since.
"The English squadron here is equal to the German, and I am glad to
be able to say that the British officers lose no opportunity to show
their friendship for us. I am told that the German admiral asked
Captain Chichester, the British commander, what the English would do
in case the Germans should protest against an American bombardment of
Manila, and that the messenger received the answer: 'Say to Admiral
von Diederich that he will have to call on Admiral Dewey to find out
what the British ships will do in such an event. Admiral Dewey is the
only man authorized to answer that question.' I cannot vouch for the
exact truthfulness of this report," Max went on, "but I can for the
hostility of the Germans and the friendliness of the English. And we
hear reliable reports of sailors' fights in Hong-Kong, in which British
and Yankee bluejackets fight shoulder to shoulder against German seamen
subjects of the Kaiser."
"Oh, that is good!" exclaimed Lucilla, as her father paused in his
reading, "and I hope we and the British will always be friends after
this. Don't you think, father, that joining together we could rule the
world?"
"Yes; and I hope, with you, that we may always be friends; though it
is not necessary that we should always take part in each other's
quarrels."
"I hope Max is well?" said Violet inquiringly.
"Yes," said his father, "he tells me he is, and that he came through
the battle without the slightest wound."
"I hope the President will let Dewey come home soon, and Brother Max
with him," said little Elsie. "Doesn't he say anything about it, papa?"
"No, my child, except that he fears it will be months, if not years,
before we see each other again. But we won't despair; it may be that
the war will be short, and peace return our dear boy to us sooner than
now seems likely."
The captain seemed to have finished reading the part of Max's letter
which he thought best for all to hear, and was folding it up. "Mother,"
he said, turning to Mrs. Travilla, "the air out here is delightful this
morning; don't you think it might do Harold good to lie yonder in the
hammock? and that he could come out with the assistance of my arm?"
"I certainly do," she said, "and thank you for your kind offer. Both
he and Herbert will be deeply interested in the contents of Max's
letter--if you are willing to let them see or hear it."
"Certainly, mother," the captain hastened to say. "I will carry it in
and read it to them before we bring Harold out."
And so he did. They were both greatly interested, and upon the
conclusion of the reading Harold was glad to accept the offer of the
captain to help him out to the porch and into a hammock, where he
could lie at ease and enjoy the companionship of other members of the
party, older and younger. They were all ready to wait upon him and
to do whatever they could for his comfort and entertainment. None
more so than Grace, whose ministrations he seemed to prefer to any
other. As the days went on they were often left alone together, while
husbands and wives and lovers devoted themselves to each other; Mrs.
Travilla herself to her sicker son, and Evelyn to her housekeeping and
correspondence, especially the letters to Max, her affianced.
Grace was fond of Harold, as she thought any one might be of so kind an
uncle, whose medical skill had many times relieved suffering for her,
and who had always shown kindly sympathy in her ailments. She wanted
to make a suitable return for it all, so endeavored to amuse him with
cheerful chat, music, and reading aloud anything that he seemed to care
to hear.
He fell more deeply in love with her day by day, and often found it
difficult to refrain from telling the tale to her, and pleading for a
return. His mother saw it all, and at length advised him to speak to
Grace's father, tell him the whole story, and crave permission to do
and say what he could to win her heart.
"I have thought it might be best to wait some years, mother," he said.
"I fear he will be astonished, indignant, and deprive me of her sweet
society."
"Astonished he probably will be," she said, "but surely not indignant;
and when he has fully considered the matter, remembering that there is
no tie of blood between you, I think he will not withhold his consent,
provided you are willing to defer marriage till she is of suitable age."
"I hope you are right, mother, but such a mixture of relationships as
it would make--I fear he will think that an insurmountable difficulty."
"But to rob his dearly loved daughter of a life of wedded happiness he
will think still worse, if I am not greatly mistaken in him. And as for
the mixture of relationships, you can still be brother to him and your
sister Violet, and Grace remain his daughter."
"You are the best of comforters and advisers, mother," he said, "and I
will take your advice, and make a clean breast of it to the captain at
the earliest opportunity."
He did so before the day was over. Seeing the captain in the grounds,
he joined him with a request for a bit of private chat.
"Certainly," said the captain, leading the way to the summerhouse on
the edge of the cliff. "If you want assistance in any way that I can
give it, I need hardly tell you that it will be a pleasure to me to do
so; especially as you are the brother of my dear wife."
"Thank you, Brother Levis, I do not doubt that in the least; and
yet----" He stammered and paused, coloring deeply.
"I think you need not hesitate to tell me," the captain said, with a
look of surprise. "I feel very sure you would not ask anything wrong or
unreasonable."
"No; my request is neither, I think. It is that I may, if I can, win
the heart and hand of your daughter Grace."
"Surely, surely you must acknowledge that that is unreasonable!"
exclaimed the captain, in a tone of astonishment not unmixed with
indignation. "Such a mixture of relationships--making you your sister's
son-in-law, and my daughter my sister-in-law!"
"My mother's idea is that we might keep to our own relationships as
they are now; and she thinks as there is absolutely no tie of blood
between us there could be nothing wrong in such a marriage."
"No, perhaps not absolutely wrong, but very distasteful to me. Besides,
as you yourself must acknowledge, Grace is entirely too young to marry."
"But all the time growing older, as well as more and more beautiful,
and I can wait. She is worth waiting for as long as Jacob served for
Rachel. And would it not be wise to give her to a physician, who will
make her health his constant care?"
"Perhaps so," returned the captain, with a rather perplexed and sad
sort of smile; "and if you have won her heart and are willing to wait
till she is of suitable age, I--don't forbid you to tell her--how
dearly you love her--if you can."
"A thousand thanks, Brother Levis!" exclaimed Harold, seizing the
captain's hand in a vise-like grasp, and giving it a hearty shake.
"I don't know how to put my love into words--it seems to me they would
be powerless to express it--but I shall try and hope to win a return
by untiring devotion."
"She has a loving heart, and her father finds it hard to be called upon
to resign the first place in it," the captain said, with an involuntary
sigh.
"But let us hope that it will be for her happiness, captain; and I
think we both love her well enough to resign a good deal for that."
"Her father certainly does," said the captain. "Dear child! she has
been a great comfort and blessing to me since my eyes first rested upon
her dear little face. She has never caused me a pang, except by her
ill-health and feebleness."
"I have known her long enough and well enough to be sure of that," said
Harold. "She certainly has a lovely disposition, as well as a beautiful
face and form. I feel that to win her for my own will be the greatest
good fortune that could possibly come to me."
"I am glad you appreciate the worth of my dear child," the captain
said, with emotion, "and if you have won her heart I am not afraid to
trust her happiness to your keeping. But, understand, I cannot let you
take her at once."
"Yes, I understand, and shall not take any unfair advantage of
your reluctantly granted permission, Brother Levis; but if I can
win her consent, her heart, I shall be a very happy man, and wait
contentedly--or at least ungrumblingly--until you grant us leave to
become husband and wife."
Harold was not long in availing himself of the consent given. He was on
the watch for an opportunity to tell his tale of love to the one most
deeply concerned. He coaxed her out to that very spot where he and her
father had had their private talk, there told her what she was to him,
and asked if she could return his affection and willingly give herself
to him. She was evidently much surprised, listened with an agitated air
and face suffused with blushes, then said low and hesitatingly:
"Oh, Uncle Harold! how can you? You are so good and wise--so much older
than I am--and--and father has often told me that I am only a little
girl--not nearly old enough to think about--about such things--and so I
am sure he wouldn't want you to talk to me as you did just now."
"But I spoke to him first, and gained his permission to tell you of
my love. He probably will not let us marry for some years to come,
even if you care for me in that way; but he is willing that we should
become engaged if we choose, and be lovers till he thinks you are old
enough to marry. And oh, darling! if you care for me, and will promise
to be mine at some future day, it will make me the happiest of men.
Oh, dearest! can't you love me in that way, even just a little?" he
concluded imploringly, taking her hand in his and holding it in a
tenderly affectionate pressure.
"I can't help loving you, Uncle Harold, you are so, _so very_ good and
kind to me. But I never thought of--of your being my lover; for I'm not
wise and good enough for you."
"I should put it just the other way, that I am not half wise and good
enough for you, my darling, my fairy queen," he said, venturing to put
an arm about her, draw her into a close embrace, and press an ardent
kiss upon her lips.
She made no resistance, and a few more words of love and whispered
tenderness caused the sweet, blushing face to grow radiant with
happiness. She did not deny that she returned his affection, but at
length owned in a few low-breathed, hesitating words that she did.
Her face was beaming when they returned to the house, and when she came
to her father for the usual good-night caress, he folded her close to
his heart and gazing searchingly into the sweet, blushing face, said
tenderly:
"My darling little daughter looks very happy to-night. Won't you let
your father into the secret of it?"
"Yes, indeed, papa; I never meant to keep anything from you," she
murmured, half under her breath, and hiding her blushing face on his
breast. "I always mean to tell you every thing worth while, because we
love each other so very, very dearly. I am happy because of what Uncle
Harold has been telling me; and he says he told you first, so you know.
And you are willing, papa?"
"Yes, daughter, when the right time comes, since it seems it will make
you happy. But," he sighed, "it is a little hard for your father to
find other men getting the love of his dear daughters away from him."
"Oh, papa, dear, dearest papa, don't think that!" she said, with tears
in her voice. "I've always loved you dearly, and it seems to me that I
love you better just now than I ever did before."
"Ah, is that so, daughter mine?" he said, giving her another tender
caress; "it makes me happy to hear it, and to believe that my dear
Grace will never cease to love me, and will always feel sure of her
father's loving sympathy in all her joys and sorrows."
"It is very sweet to know that, papa dear," she said. "Oh, I am just
the happiest girl, with so many and such dear loved ones. But even with
all the others, father, I couldn't do without your love."
"I hope not, dear child. It would be hard indeed for me to doubt that,
or to be deprived of yours. But now bid me good-night and go to your
rest, for late hours have always been bad for you."
"Yes, sir, I know; and my dear, kind father is always so tenderly
careful of me," she said, giving and receiving a close, loving embrace.
It had been a sultry day, followed by a delightful evening, a cool,
refreshing breeze coming from the river, and a full moon in a clear
sky making it almost as light as day in the grounds, about which the
elder members of the party were scattered. The captain left the porch
where he and his daughter Grace had had their little chat, and joined
a group under the trees on the lawn. It consisted of Mrs. Travilla--or
Grandma Elsie, as his first set of children had been accustomed to call
her--her daughters, Mrs. Leland and Mrs. Raymond, and her sons Harold,
Herbert, and Walter. There was a slight flutter of excitement among
them as he joined them and took possession of a vacant seat.
"I am glad you have come, captain," said Mrs. Travilla. "Harold has
just been telling us of your great kindness to him, and I want to thank
you for it."
"Ah! what was that?" he asked in a tone that seemed to express
surprise. "There are few things I would not do for you or yours,
mother."
"I believe that, and you have given him the right to win, if he can, a
precious treasure; and to give to me the dearest of little daughters."
"Ah, yes!" he said, as if just comprehending her meaning, "and to her
father she is such a treasure as any man might covet and be rejoiced to
win."
"An opinion in which I am sure we will all agree," said Violet. "I, who
certainly know her well, think she is an inestimable treasure."
"An opinion in which we can all join you, I am sure," added Herbert,
"and I think my brother a most fortunate man."
"That is exactly what he thinks of himself," said Harold, with a happy
laugh. "Though there has to be a long, long waiting spell before the
full extent of that happiness can be realized."
"How our young folks are pairing off!" remarked Mrs. Leland, with a
slight sigh.
"Ah, yes," said Violet, "but fortunately they don't pair off with
strangers and leave us. That makes it much easier to bear, doesn't it,
my dear?"
"Yes; except for the mixture of relationships," returned the captain a
trifle ruefully.
"Is the thing to be kept a secret?" queried Mrs. Leland.
"I am entirely willing it should be known in the connection," said
Captain Raymond.