Stella, however, courageous as she was, was not bold enough to address
Sir Charles and his companion as Charlie and Algy when they appeared,
not next day, but some days later; for their engagements with Mrs. Seton
and others of their friends were not so lightly to be pushed aside for
the attraction of her society as the girl supposed. It was a little
disappointing to meet them with their friends, not on the same sudden
level of intimacy which had been developed by the picnic, and to be
greeted indifferently, “like anybody else,” after that entertainment and
its sudden fervour of acquaintance. When, however, Mrs. Seton left the
hotel, and the young men had no longer that resource in their idleness,
they appeared at the Cliff without further invitation, and with an
evident disposition to profit by its hospitality which half flattered
and half offended the girls.
“They have never even left cards,” said Katherine, after the picnic,
“but now that their friends have gone they remember that you asked them,
Stella.”
“Well,” cried Stella, “that is so much the more friendly. Do you suppose
they haven’t hundreds of places to go to? And when they choose _us_, are
we to be disagreeable? I shan’t be so at least.”
She ran downstairs indeed wreathed with smiles, and received them with
an eager gratification, which was very flattering to the young men, who
opened their eyes at the luxury of the luncheon and gave each other a
look which said that here was something worth the trouble. Old Mr.
Tredgold, in his shabby coat and his slippers, was a curious feature in
the group; but it was by no means out of keeping that a rich old
father, who had begun life with half a crown, should thus fulfil his
part, and the young men laughed at his jokes, and elevated an eyebrow at
each other across the table, with a sense of the fun of it, which
perplexed and disturbed the two young women, to whom they were still
figures unaccustomed, about whose modes and manners they were quite
unassured. Katherine took it all seriously, with an inclination towards
offence, though it is not to be supposed that the advent of two young
officers, more or less good-looking and a novelty in her life, should
not have exercised a little influence upon her also. But Stella was in a
state of suppressed excitement which made her eyes shine indeed, and
brightened her colour, but was not very pleasant to behold for anyone
who loved her. She was half offended with her father for the share he
took in the conversation, and angry with the young men who listened to
and applauded him, without remarking her own attempts to be witty. Her
voice, though it was a pretty voice, grew a little shrill in her
endeavours to attract their attention and to secure the loud outbursts
of laughter which had been used to accompany Mrs. Seton’s sallies. What
was it about Mrs. Seton which amused them? She said nothing remarkable,
except for rudeness and foolishness, and yet they laughed; but to
Stella’s funniest remarks they gave but a gape of inattention, and
concentrated their attention on her father--on papa! What could they
possibly see in him?
It was consolatory, however, when they all went out into the garden
after lunch, to find that they came one on each side of her
instinctively with a just discrimination, leaving Katherine out. Stella,
to do her justice, did not want Katherine to be left entirely out. When
her own triumph was assured she was always willing that there should be
something for her sister. But it was well at least that the strangers
should recognise that she was the centre of everything. She led them, as
in duty bound, through all the rare trees and shrubs which were the
glory of the Cliff. “This papa had brought all the way from Brazil, or
somewhere. It is the first one that ever was grown in England; and just
look at those berries! Wain, the gardener, has coaxed them to grow,
giving them all sorts of nice things to eat. Oh, I couldn’t tell you all
he has given them--old rags and rusty nails and all kinds of
confectioneries!”
“Their dessert, eh?” said Sir Charles. He had stuck his glass in his
eye, but he looked gloomily at all the wonderful plants. Algy put up his
hand to his moustache, under which his mouth gaped more open than usual,
with a yawn. Stella remembered that Mrs. Seton had proposed to pop a
worm into it, and longed to make use, though at second hand, of that
famous witticism, but had not the courage. They looked about blankly
even while she discoursed, with roving yet vacant looks, seeking
something to entertain them. Stella could not entertain them--oh,
dreadful discovery! She did not know what to say; her pretty face began
to wear an anxious look, her colour became hectic, her eyes hollow with
eagerness, her voice loud and shrill with the strain. Mrs. Seton could
keep them going, could make them laugh at nothing, could maintain a
whirl of noisy talk and jest; but Stella could not amuse these two heavy
young men. Their opaque eyes went roving round the beautiful place in
search of some “fun,” their faces grew more and more blank. It was
Katherine, who did not pretend to be amusing, who had so very little to
say for herself, who interposed:
“Don’t you think,” she said, “Stella, they might like to look at the
view? Sliplin Harbour is so pretty under the cliff, and then there are
some yachts.”
“Oh, let’s look at the yachts,” the young men said, pushing forward with
a sudden impulse of interest. The bay was blazing in the afternoon
sunshine, the distant cliff a dazzle of whiteness striking sharp against
the blue of sky and sea; but the visitors did not pause upon anything so
insignificant as the view. They stumbled over each other in their
anxiety to see the little vessel which lay at the little pier, one white
sail showing against the same brilliant background. Whose was it?
Jones’s for a wager, the _Lively Jinny_. No, no, nothing of the sort.
Howard’s the _Inscrutable_, built for Napier, don’t you know, before he
went to the dogs.
Stella pressed forward into the discussion with questions which she did
not know to be irrelevant. What was the meaning of clipper-rigged? Did
raking masts mean anything against anyone’s character? Which was the
jib, and why should it be of one shape rather than another? The
gentlemen paid very little attention to her. They went on discussing the
identity of the toy ship with interest and fervour.
“Why, I know her like the palm of my hand,” cried Sir Charles. “I
steered her through that last westerly gale, and a tough one it was. I
rather think if any one should know her, it’s I. The _Lively Jinny_, and
a livelier in the teeth of a gale I never wish to see.”
“Pooh!” said the other. “You’re as blind as a bat, Charlie, everyone
knows; you wouldn’t know your best friend at that distance. It’s
Howard’s little schooner that he bought when poor Napier went to----”
“I tell you it’s _Jinny_, the fetish of Jones’s tribe. I know her as
well as I know you. Ten to one in sovs.”
“I’ll take you,” cried the other. “Howard’s, and a nice little craft;
but never answers her helm as she ought, that’s why he calls her the
_Inscrutable_.”
“What a strange thing,” cried Stella, toiling behind them in her
incomprehension, “not to answer your helm! What is your helm, and what
does it say to you? Perhaps she doesn’t understand.”
This, she thought, was _à la mode de_ Mrs. Seton, but it produced no
effect, not even a smile.
“You could see the figure-head with a glass,” said Captain Scott.
“Where’s the glass, Miss Tredgold? There ought to be a glass somewhere.”
“Jove!” cried Sir Charles. “Fancy a look-out like this and no telescope.
What could the people be thinking of?”
“You are very rude to call papa and me the people,” cried Stella, almost
in tears. “Who cares for a silly little cockle-shell of a boat? But it
is a good thing at least that it gives you something to talk
about--which I suppose you can understand.”
“Hullo!” said the one visitor to the other, under his breath, with a
look of surprise.
“If it is only a glass that is wanted,” said Katherine, “why shouldn’t
we all have a look? There is a telescope, you know, upstairs.”
Stella flashed out again under the protection of this suggestion. “I’ll
run,” she said, being in reality all compliance and deeply desirous to
please, “and tell one of the footmen to bring it down.”
“Too much trouble,” and “What a bore for you to have us on your hands!”
the young men said.
“Don’t, Stella,” said Katherine; “they had better go up to papa’s
observatory, where they can see it for themselves.”
“Oh, yes,” cried the girl, “come along, let’s go to papa’s observatory,
that will be something for you to do. You always want something to do,
don’t you? Come along, come along!” Stella ran on before them with
heated cheeks and blazing eyes. It was not that she was angry with them,
but with herself, to think that she could not do what Mrs. Seton did.
She could not amuse them, or keep up to their high level of spirits, and
the vacancy of the look which came over both their faces--the mouth of
Algy under his moustache, the eyes of Charlie staring blankly about in
search of a sensation--were more than her nerves could bear. And yet she
was alarmed beyond measure, feeling her own prestige in question, by the
thought that they might never come again.
Papa’s observatory was a terrace on the leads between the two gables
where the big telescope stood. Was it a pity, or was it not, that papa
was there in his shabby coat sniffing at the ships as they went out to
sea? He had an extended prospect on all sides, and he was watching a
speck on the horizon with much interest through the glass. “Perhaps you
young fellows have got some interest in the shipping like me?” he said.
“There, don’t you see the _Haitch_ and the _Ho_ on the pennant just
slipping out of sight? I have a deal of money in that ship. I like to
see them pass when it’s one I have an interest in. Put your little
peeper here, Stella, you’ll see her yet. They pay very well with proper
care. You have to keep your wits about you, but that’s the case with all
investments. Want to see any particular ship, eh? I hope you’ve got some
money in ’em,” Mr. Tredgold said.
“Oh, papa, take your horrid thing away; you know I never can see
anything,” cried Stella. “Now look, now look, Sir Charles! Remember, I
back you. The _Jenny_ before the world.”
“Miss Tredgold, put a sixpence on me,” said Algy; “don’t let a poor
fellow go into the ring unprotected. It’s Howard’s or nobody’s.”
“Betting?” said Mr. Tredgold. “It is not a thing I approve of, but we
all do it, I suppose. That little boat, if that is what you’re thinking
of, belongs to none of those names. It’s neither the _Jones_ nor the
_Howard_. It’s the _Stella_, after that little girl of mine, and it’s my
boat, and you can take a cruise in it if you like any day when there’s
no wind.”
“Oh, papa,” cried Stella, “is it really, really for me?”
“You little minx,” said the old man as she kissed him, “you little fair
weather flatterer, always pleased when you get something! I know you,
for all you think you keep it up so well. Papa’s expected always to be
giving you something--the only use, ain’t it? of an old man. It’s a bit
late in the season to buy a boat, but I got it a bargain, a great
bargain.”
“Then it was Jones’s,” cried Sir Charles.
“Then Howard was the man,” cried his friend.
“That’s delightful,” cried Stella, clapping her hands. “Do keep it up! I
will put all my money on Sir Charles.” And they were so kind that they
laughed with her, admiring the skip and dance of excitement which she
performed for their pleasure. But when it turned out that Mr. Tredgold
did not know from whom he had bought the boat, and that the figure-head
had been removed to make room for a lovely wooden lady in white and gold
with a star on her forehead, speculation grew more and more lively than
ever. It was Stella, in the excitement of that unexpected success, who
proposed to run down to the pier to examine into the yacht and see if
any solution was possible. “We have a private way,” she cried. “I’ll
show you if you’d like to come; and I want to see my yacht, and if the
Stella on it is like me, and if it is pretty inside, and everything.
And, Kate, while we’re gone, you might order tea. Papa, did you say the
Stella on the figure-head was to be like me?”
“Nothing that is wooden could be like you,” said Sir Charles graciously.
It was as if an oracle had spoken. Algy opened his mouth under his
moustache with a laugh or gape which made Stella long there and then to
repeat Mrs. Seton’s elegant jest. She was almost bold enough in the
flush of spirits which Sir Charles’s compliment had called forth.
“I wish Stella would not rush about with those men,” said Katherine, as
the noise of their steps died away upon the stairs.
“Jealous, eh?” said her father. “Well, I don’t wonder--and they can’t
both have her. One of them might have done the civil by you, Katie--but
they’re selfish brutes, you know, are men.”
Katherine perhaps walked too solemnly away in the midst of this
unpalatable consolation, and was undutifully irritated by her father’s
tin-tinkle of a laugh. She was not jealous, but the feeling perhaps was
not much unlike that unlovely sentiment. She declared indignantly to
herself that she did not want them to “do the civil” to her, these dull
frivolous young men, and that it was in the last degree injurious to her
to suggest anything of the sort. It was hopeless to make her father see
what was her point of view, or realise her feelings--as hopeless as it
was to make Stella perceive how little fit it was that she should woo
the favour of these rude strangers. Mrs. Seton might do it with that
foolish desire to drag about a train with her, to pose as a conqueror,
to---- Katherine did not know what words to use. But Stella, a girl!
Stella, who was full of real charm, who was fit for so much better
things! On the whole, Katherine found it was better to fulfil the homely
duties that were hers and give her orders about the tea. It was the part
in life that was apportioned to her, and why should she object to it?
It might not be the liveliest, but surely it was a more befitting
situation than Stella’s rush after novelty, her strain to please. And
whom to please? People who sneered at them before their faces and did
not take pains to be civil--not even to Stella.
It did her good to go out into the air, to select the spot under the
acacia where the tea-table stood so prettily, with its shining white. It
was still warm, extraordinary for October. She sat down there gazing out
upon the radiance of the sea and sky; the rocky fringe of sand was
invisible, and so was the town and harbour which lay at the foot of the
cliff; beyond the light fringe of the tamarisk trees which grew there as
luxuriantly as in warmer countries there was nothing but the sunny
expanse of the water, dazzling under the Western sun, which was by this
time low, shining level in the eyes of the solitary gazer. She saw,
almost without seeing it, the white sail of a yacht suddenly gleam into
the middle of the prospect before her, coming out all at once from the
haven under the hill. Someone was going out for a sail, a little late
indeed; but what could be more beautiful or tempting than this glorious
afternoon! Katherine sighed softly with a half sensation of envy. A
little puff of air came over her, blowing about the light acacia foliage
overhead, and bringing down a little shower of faintly yellow leaves.
The little yacht felt it even more than the acacia did. It seemed to
waver a little, then changed its course, following the impulse of the
breeze into the open. Katherine wondered indifferently who it could be.
The yachting people were mostly gone from the neighbourhood. They were
off on their longer voyages, or they had laid up their boats for the
season. And there had begun to grow a windy look, such as dwellers by
the sea soon learn to recognise about the sky. Katherine wished calmly
to herself in her ignorance of who these people were that they might not
go too far.
She was sitting thus musing and wondering a little that Stella and her
cavaliers did not come back for tea, when the sound of her father’s
stick from the porch of the house startled her, and a loud discussion
with somebody which he seemed to be carrying on within. He came out
presently, limping along with his stick and with a great air of
excitement. “I said they were only to go when there was no wind. Didn’t
you hear me, Katie? When there was no wind--I said it as plain as
anything. And look at that; look at that!” He was stammering with
excitement, and could scarcely keep his standing in his unusual
excitement.
“What is the matter, papa? Look at what? Oh, the boat. But we have
nothing to do with any boat,” she cried. “Why should you disturb
yourself? The people can surely take care of---- Papa! what is it?”
He had sunk into a chair, one of those set ready on the grass for Stella
and her friends, and was growing purple in the face and panting for
breath. “You fool! you fool! Stella,” he cried, “Stella, my little girl.
Oh, I’ll be even with those young fools when I catch them. They want to
drown her. They want to run away with her. Stella! my little girl!”
Katherine had awakened to the fact before these interrupted words were
half uttered. And naturally what she did was perfectly unreasonable. She
rushed to the edge of the cliff, waving aloft the white parasol in her
hand, beckoning wildly, and crying, “Come back, come back!” She called
all the servants, the gardener and his man, the footmen who were looking
out alarmed from the porch. “Go, go,” she cried, stamping her foot, “and
bring them back; go and bring them back!” There was much rushing and
running, and one at least of the men flung himself helter-skelter down
the steep stair that led to the beach, while the gardeners stood gazing
from the cliff. Katherine clapped her hands in her excitement, giving
wild orders. “Go! go! don’t stand there as if nothing could be done; go
and bring them back!”
“Not to contradict you, Miss Katherine----” the gardener began.
“Oh, don’t speak to me--don’t stand talking--go, go, and bring them
back.”
Mr. Tredgold had recovered his breath a little. “Let us think,” he
said--“let us think, and don’t talk nonsense, Kate. There’s a breeze
blowing up, and where will it drive them to, gardener? Man, can’t you
tell where it’ll drive them to? Round by the Needles, I shouldn’t
wonder, the dangerousest coast. Oh, my little girl, my little girl!
Shall I ever see her again? And me that said they were never to go out
but when there was no wind.”
“Not to the Needles, sir--not to the Needles when there’s a westerly
breeze. More likely round the cliffs Bembridge way; and who can stop ’em
when they’re once out? It’s only a little cruise; let ’em alone and
they’ll come home, with their tails be’ind them, as the rhyme says.”
“And I said they were only to go out if there was no wind, gardener!”
The old gentleman was almost weeping with alarm and anxiety, but yet he
was comforted by what the man said.
“They are going the contrary way,” cried Katherine.
“Bless you, miss, that’s tacking, to catch the breeze. They couldn’t go
far, sir, could they? without no wind.”
“And that’s just what I wanted, that they should not go far--just a
little about in the bay to please her. Oh, my little girl! She will be
dead with fright; she will catch her death of cold, she will.”
“Not a bit, sir,” cried the gardener. “Miss Stella’s a very plucky one.
She’ll enjoy the run, she’ll enjoy the danger.”
“The danger!” cried father and sister together.
“What a fool I am! There ain’t none, no more than if they was in a duck
pond,” the gardener said.
And, indeed, to see the white sail flying in the sunshine over the blue
sea, there did not seem much appearance of danger. With his first
apprehensions quieted down, Mr. Tredgold stumbled with the help of his
daughter’s arm to the edge of the cliff within the feathery line of the
tamarisk trees, attended closely by the gardener, who, as an islander
born, was supposed to know something of the sea. The hearts of the
anxious gazers fluctuated as the little yacht danced over the water,
going down when she made a little lurch and curtsey before the breeze,
and up when she went steadily by the wind, making one of those long
tacks which the gardener explained were all made, though they seemed to
lead the little craft so far away, with the object of getting back.
“Them two young gentlemen, they knows what they’re about,” the gardener
said.
“And there’s a sailor-man on board,” said Mr. Tredgold--“a man that
knows everything about it, one of the crew whose business it is----”
“I don’t see no third man,” said the gardener doubtfully.
“Oh, yes, yes, there’s a sailor-man,” cried the father. The old
gentleman spoke with a kind of sob in his throat; he was ready to cry
with weakness and trouble and exasperation, as the little vessel,
instead of replying to the cries and wailings of his anxiety by coming
right home as seemed to him the simplest way, went on tacking and
turning, sailing further and further off, then heeling over as if she
would go down, then fluttering with an empty sail that hung about the
mast before she struck off in another direction, but never turning back.
“They are taking her off to America!” he cried, half weeping, leaning
heavily on Katherine’s arm.
“They’re tacking, sir, tacking, to bring her in,” said the gardener.
“Oh, don’t speak to me!” cried the unhappy father; “they are carrying
her off to America. Who was it said there was nothing between this and
America, Katie? Oh, my little girl! my little girl!”
And it may be partly imagined what were the feelings of those
inexperienced and anxious people when the early October evening began to
fall, and the blue sky to be covered with clouds flying, gathering, and
dispersing before a freshening westerly gale.