KIDNAPPING.
"First for Windsor?--Second to Slough? which is it to be? I wish these
young women knew their own minds!" muttered an irritated railway
official at Paddington, as Miss Ross, changing her directions with
inconvenient suddenness, blocked the stream of passengers defiling past
his window to take their tickets for the train. She reinstated herself,
however, in his good opinion, by unusual alacrity in paying her money,
ere she entered the ladies' waiting-room, from which, after a couple of
minutes, she reappeared, completely disguised in figure, face, and
bearing.
She had gone in, a shapely, upright, good-looking young woman, on whom
masculine eyes could not but turn with unqualified approval. She came
out, wearing a double veil, a pair of blue spectacles, and a respirator,
bent crooked, with one leg shorter than the other. Thus metamorphosed,
she limped to her second-class carriage under the very noses of two men,
to have been discovered by whom would have entailed ruin, disgrace, and
instantaneous explosion of her grand scheme.
Picard and Frank, setting the bye-laws of the company at defiance, by
smoking on its platform, were making indiscreet remarks on the
appearance of the different passengers hurrying to take their places in
the same train. Little did they think, how the heart was beating, of
that dowdy, dumpy figure they glanced at half in pity, half in scorn;
nor how a thrill of triumph pervaded her from top to toe, while Miss
Ross reflected, with what transparent devices these lords of the
creation were to be duped, with what facility she could turn and twist
two great stupid men round her dainty little finger. She did not so much
mind Frank. Had he been alone, they might have journeyed amicably down
together, but she dreaded recognition by his companion; above all she
dreaded that Picard might have the same object as herself, might be
going out of town for the express purpose of visiting the child. Even in
this case, however, she felt a proud confidence in her own powers of
outwitting them all; conscious, that like an Indian amongst the rapids,
she could steer to an inch, undismayed by any danger, however imminent,
that did not actually overwhelm her bark, taking a keen wild pleasure in
the very destruction she invited only to elude. Sitting opposite a
motherly woman, with a basket, who sucked peppermint as a sailor "turns
his quid," she found herself almost wishing she had taken her place
boldly in the next carriage, which a strong odour of tobacco-smoke bade
her infer was occupied by two men, both of whom she had successively
fancied she loved.
Their conversation would have interested her no doubt. Having taken a
great liking to Frank, ever since the opportune appearance of that
champion on the night he was assailed, Picard had confided to him the
whole history of a certain attraction that drew him so often to Windsor,
and was now deep in a dissertation on the trustworthiness of Mrs. Mole,
and the endearing qualities of her charge.
"Such a little brick, Captain," said the Confederate officer, between
the puffs of an enormous cigar. "Such quality, such gumption, such grit,
I wouldn't have believed could be found in a child, not if you raised
'em by steam! To see the critter's face when he lifts the latch, to let
me in--he can just reach it, and very proud he is to be so tall. To hear
him crow, and halloo, and sing 'Hail, Columbia!' 'God save the Queen'
'Rule Britannia' and 'Yankee Doodle.' He's got 'em all as ready as
sharp-shooting, and as correct--as correct, as a barrel organ! It's my
belief that child is destined to be a great man, Captain. He's gifted
with adaptability, sir, and is what we call _capable_. That old woman
I've trusted with him seems honest as the day, and does her duty by the
varment _well_. Health, of course, at present, is the first
consideration; but _you_ see, when he gets a little older, if I don't
give that boy an education, to fit him for any profession or position on
earth--from stoker on this broad gauge railway to President of the
United States! that's what I call bringing up a child in the way it
should go."
Frank tried to appear more interested than he really felt.
"Exactly," said he; "and so whichever way he goes afterwards, must be
the right one. It's an excellent plan, no doubt; but, I confess, I
shouldn't have thought of it myself."
"They understand the question of education better on the other side of
the Atlantic," continued Picard, in perfect good faith; "they go ahead
there to some purpose in most things, but when they're working 'social
science,' as they call it, the way they get the steam up is a caution!
Well, I've concluded to take my own plan with the young one--I feel I've
a right, for I couldn't love the boy better if he was my son ten times
over. Ah! I sometimes think, Captain, I should have been a happier man
if I had been a better one. Loafing is like smuggling, it don't pay in
the long run. A contraband cargo is an awful risk, and a very uncertain
profit; and yet, I doubt if it's a good thing, either, for a man to
marry too early in life."
"Premature, eh?" answered Frank, not much encouraged, while conscious of
feeling unpleasantly nervous, as he approached alike the termination of
his journey and his bachelorhood. "Of course--certainly--thanks--yes, I
will have another cigar--it brings him up short, I take it--settles him,
as you may say, once for all."
Picard laughed. "Women _un_settle a chap sometimes," said he, "and bring
him up short enough too, for that matter. I've tried it every way, and I
only know I've always been wrong; but I sometimes think I could do
better if I'd another chance. That's an uncommon likely girl now, that
Miss Hallaton, as they call her. I wonder if I could do any good in
those diggings. You know the family well, Captain; what do you think?"
Frank could hardly conceal his annoyance, though it was sad to reflect
that after all he had no right to be angry. Loyal enough still to revere
the flag he had deserted, he answered somewhat stiffly.
"Sir Henry looks very high for his daughter, and I should think Miss
Hallaton herself would be more fastidious, more difficult to please,
than most people."
Picard seemed in no way disconcerted. A life of adventure soon produces
a habit of underrating difficulties, and a tendency to risk all for the
chance of winning a part. I am not sure but that a spice of this kind of
recklessness is appreciated by women, and that "nothing venture, nothing
have," is a maxim which holds good in love, quite as much as in other
affairs of life.
"Oh! I could get on well enough with the old man," said he; "there's a
freemasonry amongst fellows of his stamp and mine. I consider Sir Henry
quite one of my own sort, and, indeed, I've sounded him. Well, perhaps I
can hardly say _sounded_ him on the subject, but hinted to him that he
and I might do a smartish stroke of business if we put our money and our
brains together, and played a little into each other's hands. It's the
girl that beats _me_, Captain; that's where I'm at sea. She's got a
high-handed way with her that I can't make head against at all, and I'm
not easily dashed, far from it. The young woman's uneasy in herself,
too. There's something on her mind. I saw it from the first. The best
thing she can do, in my opinion, would be to marry some smart, likely
young chap, who would take her abroad for a spell till her colour came
back, and the nonsense was driven out of her head. I should like to be
_him_ uncommon! But I don't see my way."
There was much of bitter to Frank in this simple, confidential talk,
dashed, nevertheless, with a something of sweet and subtle poison, that
ought to have warned him he had no right to pledge himself to one woman
while he could thus be affected by the mere name of another. Strange to
say, he felt that Picard now constituted a link between himself and that
past life which after to-day must be put out of sight for ever, and he
clung to the Confederate officer accordingly.
"You'll come to luncheon at the barracks, of course," said he, throwing
the end of his cigar out at the window. "I must be there till five or
six o'clock to parade my young horses for the Colonel. Why he wants to
see them to-day I don't know, considering he bought them all himself,
and a very moderate lot they are. But, anyhow, _there_ I shall be till
five at the earliest."
"Luncheon," repeated Picard reflectively; "I don't care if I do. I'm
generally peckish about two o'clock, and Britishers _do_ dine
unnaturally late. I'll go and see the boy first, come back to feed with
you, and take a look at the young horses afterwards. How long now,
Captain, do you estimate that it takes to get a trooper fit for duty?"
"How long?" repeated the other, who could be eloquent on this congenial
theme. "Why, two years at the very least. And even then half of them are
not properly mouthed for common field movements, certainly not for
parade. Why, I've seen a squadron of Austrian cuirassiers march off at a
walk, every horse beginning like a foot soldier with his near leg, and I
don't know why our cavalry should be worse drilled than theirs. One of
my troop was actually run away with last year at a review, and I felt as
much ashamed as if he had run away in action! No; what I want is to see
more rides and fewer foot-parades, the men less bothered and the horses
better broke."
"Well, you _do_ take an unconscionable time over everything in this old,
slow, and sure country," answered Picard. "Why, if we'd wanted two
years, or two months either, to get our cattle fit for service, none of
Stuart's best things would have come off at all. In ten days, Captain,
ten days at most, I'd every horse in my squadron as steady as a
time-piece, and as handy as a cotton-picker. I wish I could have shown
you 'Stonewall.' I called him 'Stonewall' after Jackson, you may be
sure. A great, slapping chestnut, sixteen hands high, and up to carrying
two hundred pounds weight. Before I'd ridden him a week he'd lift a
glove like a retriever, and walk on his hind legs like a poodle. I could
tell you things of that horse that I'll defy _you_, or any man to
believe! I was riding him on the twenty-first of----Halloo! here we are
at Slough. What a queer old woman, hobbling along the platform! Now,
that's the sort of figure you wouldn't see from one end of the States to
the other. Where do you suppose they raised her, and what do you think
she is?"
"Somebody's aunt, I should say," answered Frank carelessly, hardly
vouchsafing a glance, as the train moved on; and Miss Ross drew a long
breath of relief to find herself safe and undiscovered at Slough
Station, within a few miles of her boy.
She thought well, however, to retain her disguise for the present,
feeling such confidence in its efficiency that she regretted the first
impulse of panic when she saw Picard should have prompted her to alter
her destination. She reflected that, had she gone on to Windsor, she
could have made sure of his proceedings, while remaining herself
unrecognised, and that it would have been simpler and less trouble to
watch the hawk than the nest. She must hover round the latter now, and
so baffle this bird of prey, even in the very neighbourhood of its
quarry.
So Miss Ross, putting more deformity into her figure, more limp into her
gait, shrouding herself more sedulously in her veils, her spectacles,
and her respirator, seized on a job-carriage she found unoccupied, and
ordered its driver to proceed leisurely in the direction of The Lilies.
She was glad to have half-an-hour's quiet, in which to think over her
plans, undisturbed by the jingling of this unassuming conveyance, and
felt her courage rising, her wits growing brighter, as the moments drew
near to test the steadiness of the one and the quickness of the other.
It was a part of Jin's character, on which she prided herself not a
little, that come what might she was always "equal to the occasion." As
Picard said of her long ago, soon after that form of marriage which the
woman believed to have been an imposition, and the man considered no
more binding than any other contract it suited his convenience to
dissolve, "she could dive deeper, and come up drier" than most people.
Notwithstanding the desperate nature of the plunge she was now
contemplating, Jin had no misgivings but that she would reappear on the
surface with plumage unruffled and confidence unimpaired.
Dismissing her fly at the gate of The Lilies, thereby leaving its driver
to suppose that she was an upper servant belonging to that
establishment, she took the well-remembered path leading to Mrs. Mole's
cottage, limping along at a very fair pace over the open meadows, but
availing herself of every leafy copse and thick luxuriant hedge that
might hide her from the eyes of chance observers. No Indian "brave," on
the war-path, could have been more cunning, more vigilant, more chary
of leaving evidence where "the trail" had passed. At an angle of the
road, within sight of the casket that held her jewel, an opportune
hiding-place was formed by the intersection of two large strong fences,
now tangled and impervious in a wealth of foliage, briars, and wild
flowers. Here, in a nook concealing her from any passenger who did not
pass directly in her front, Miss Ross disposed herself to wait and
watch. A Berkshire farmer, slouching by in a tumble-down gig, was the
only person who disturbed her solitude; and coming under his stolid
gaze, she had presence of mind to pull a letter from her pocket and
pretend to make a sketch. Watching his figure jogging drowsily down the
road she shrank back in her hiding-place, for Picard was lifting the
latch of Mrs. Mole's garden gate, and a little voice, in shrill accents
that made her pulses leap, was bidding him welcome to the cottage. Jin's
whole faculties seemed to concentrate themselves in her large wild
shining eyes.
Would he never go? Did he mean to stay there all day? She looked at her
watch again and again, while every quarter of an hour seemed lengthened
to a week. With hungry jealousy she pictured him in the brick-floored
kitchen, lifting her curly-haired darling on his knee, robbing her of
the kiss, the smile, the simple prattle, the little endearments. She
experienced a fierce desire to rush in and rescue her child by force.
"What right has he to come between me and my boy?" thought she,
clenching her hands with impatience. "I can understand what they mean
now when they talk of the love a tigress bears for her cubs. Ah! _I_
shouldn't have got tired of you so soon, my little pet," she added, with
characteristic inconsistency, when the click of the front-door latch
announced Picard's departure, and she saw him waving back a succession
of "farewells" to the child.
He had remained with it really less than an hour. To Miss Ross the time
seemed interminable, yet now it was over, she blamed him that his visit
had been so short.
She forced herself to wait till he had been gone full ten minutes by her
watch. Then, abandoning disguise, she scudded down the road, and, with a
hasty greeting to Mrs. Mole, caught Gustave in her arms and strained him
to her breast, as if she feared he would be torn away from her on the
spot. The little fellow seemed quite pleased to see her again, laying
his curly head to her cheek, and crowing out those inarticulate murmurs
of fondness which are so touching from the innocent affection of a
child. Jin's eyes filled with tears, but she had to hide them from Mrs.
Mole, who, congratulating herself on such good fortune as two
opportunities for gossip in one day, was careful not to let the occasion
pass away unimproved.
"He's growed, miss, ain't he now?" asked that good woman, in a tone
pleasantly contrasting with the stiffness of her demeanour on Jin's
first appearance at the cottage. "An' he's a-learnin' to be a good boy,
as well as a big boy, ain't ye, Johnnie? Why, the gentleman said as he
hardly knowed him again, if it wasn't for his curls. Strange enough,
miss, the gentleman hadn't but just only left as you come in. An'
Johnnie he was wondering this morning, in his little bed, when the dark
lady was a-coming to see him again, and if she'd bring him a plaything.
Ah! miss, there's greater sense in childer' than in grown-up
folks--isn't there now? An' greater gratitude too--the more you make of
'em, the better they like you, but it's not so with men and women."
Abstaining from discussion on the question thus opened up, Miss Ross
produced the toy she had bought the day before, and it is hard to say
whether the women, old and young, or the child itself, seemed most
delighted by the shouts of triumph with which this acquisition was
greeted. Gustave, or Johnnie, as Mrs. Mole called him, shook it, rung
its bells, undressed it, and dressed it up again, idealising it in turn
as a soldier, a clergyman, a butter-churn, and, till checked by his
careful guardian, a hearth-broom, with unbounded satisfaction, renewed
at each fresh metamorphosis. And so the afternoon wore away till it was
time for Miss Ross to prefer a long-considered petition, that she might
take the child out for a walk.
But here a difficulty presented itself: Johnnie had a slight cold; the
evening was clouding over, and threatened rain. It was only after long
and earnest pleading that Mrs. Mole gave her consent for "one little
turn" as far as the river and back, while she busied herself about some
household matters that were more easily set to rights in the absence of
her charge.
With a beating heart, Miss Ross led him down the pathway towards the
river, the boy kicking out his feet and taking huge steps with his short
legs in a state of high triumph and glee.
Presently, at the water's edge, he looked wistfully up in his
companion's face and asked:
"Ain't we going back? Never going back--never--no more?"
"Would you _like_ never to go back, darling?" said Jin, stooping to fold
him in her arms.
"I want to go back to Moley!" answered Johnnie, now panic-stricken, and
making up his face for a cry.
Heavy drops of rain began to fall, and at the same moment a boat,
shooting suddenly round a bend in the river, grated its keel on the
shallows under the bank.