AN APPEAL
Mr Falcon’s stirring details of the storm and of the loss of Henry
Goodall, left no room for doubt in his brother’s mind that he had
perished; and as the financier, with more haste than discretion, had
visited the Doves and had met with a reception which was warmer than
the merchant was prepared to hear of, it became advisable that he
should send for his nephew to beg of him to forego the allurements of
ballooning and submit himself forthwith to Miss Dove’s fascinations,
which had proved captivating even to the colonial man of figures.
However, Mr Goodall did not at present propose to tell his nephew of
his father’s death.
The situation, judging from Mr Falcon’s disclosures as to his
admiration of Miss Dove, was hourly becoming more critical, so that,
on the arrival of the amateur aeronaut, his uncle, with ill-disguised
earnestness, said,--
“Glad to see you, Harry, especially as urgent affairs almost demand a
meeting between us. Now tell me what you have been doing? I hear that
you have been pottering about at the Crystal Palace with your balloons,
and associating with all sorts of people, instead of being in the city
with me, or visiting the Doves, whose acquaintance you seem reluctant
to make. I am informed that your poor father--”
“Surely nothing serious has happened to him, uncle?”
“I am not saying that, Harry, but I can tell you that your father has
met with an accident, and that he was very anxious about you before he
left Sydney. He has sent on a Mr Falcon to see us, and I am expecting
Captain Link’s return shortly, when I shall hear more precise news.
Now, why not go down at once to Wedwell Hall, in compliance with your
father’s wish and my own? I am amazed at your shortsightedness and lack
of curiosity in not wishing to see and know a wealthy and excellent
young lady, endowed with many good qualities, and who will become the
owner some day of a magnificent property, which you absolutely turn up
your nose at.”
“Are you referring to Miss Dove, uncle?”
“You know I am; and if you fail to win her, someone else will. Some
vulgar millionaire will carry her off while you are messing about in
the clouds. I’ve no patience with you!”
“Do stop, uncle, for I am inclined to remain for the present just as I
am. You cannot make a lover of science into a fortune hunter. If fate
had already thrown me into the society of Miss Dove, I might, or might
not, have fallen in love with her. As it is, I cannot withdraw from
what I have in hand, nor, to be candid, can I become a merchant’s clerk
as a means to an end.”
“Harry Goodall, I am shocked at your folly and want of worldly wisdom.
I admire your courage in saying what you mean, and I have not a word to
say against your general good conduct and exemption from the prevailing
vices of the day, but your persistence in this hallucination, for I can
call it nothing else, is most aggravating.”
“In what other respect, uncle?”
“Why, in mixing yourself up with questionable associates, instead of
moving more among people in your own class of life.”
“There must be good among all classes, uncle, employers and employed.
People in my service, whether men or women, have as high characters,
probably, as many who are above them in social position,” replied the
young man, with spirit. “Another point I will venture to mention,
uncle. I am too young to think of settling down in life just yet.”
“You are not too young to have feminine associates at the Crystal
Palace, so I am told,” said his uncle, turning round sharply.
“I employ respectable needlewomen. No harm will happen to them or to me
at the Crystal Palace, uncle.”
“I trust not, but I think you would be better engaged by seeking
lady-like society. However, I have done what I could for you, and so
has your--your father, but your late indifference to our advice and
wishes is most worrying.”
“You forget, uncle, that I am not actually declining to comply with
your requests, so far as a visit to the Doves goes, but I cannot do so
at present.”
“Then I decline to say any more to you, beyond this,--Take care, Harry
Goodall, that you are not cut off with a bare pittance. Your future
prospects depend upon your giving up your hobby, to begin with. Whilst
you continue a balloonatic, if I may use a strong term, you will never
be welcome at Wedwell.”
“I fail to see why, uncle.”
“Well, more fool you. That is all I have to say, beyond this one
reminder. I happen to know that if you persist in not seeking Miss
Dove’s hand, she will soon be wooed, and very likely won, while you
are thinking about it. Then it will be too late, my boy, and as to
myself, I may have to leave England, perhaps very soon; but your--your
considerate father, before he left Sydney, commissioned a friend to
seek you out and advise you to turn your attention to matters of
business, and not to wilfully neglect Wedwell Hall.”
Scarcely had Mr Goodall concluded what he was saying, when a servant
announced the arrival of the “Ship Photographer.”
“I don’t know such a person,” replied the merchant, “but perhaps you
won’t mind seeing him, Harry? At anyrate, show him up,” said Mr Goodall
to the servant.
“Which ship of mine have you photographed, pray?” said the merchant to
the man as he entered.
“Mr Goodall’s air-ship, sir.”
“Air-ship? That must be a vessel belonging to my nephew?”
“Yes, sir.”
The aeronaut here interposed, indignantly asking by what right the man
had gained admittance?
“Stay, stay, Harry,” cried the merchant; “he may have something worth
showing--something nautical, perhaps?”
“Not altogether nautical, sir, but aeronautical,” replied the
photographer, apologetically.
“Then your errand is connected with my nephew, and not with me?”
“Precisely, sir. I have hurried over from Sydenham to show my first
proofs of the ‘Rescue of the Lady on the Lake.’”
“The rescue of the lady on the lake!” exclaimed the merchant, with
surprise.
“I protest, uncle, against this liberty and intrusion,” said Harry. “I
have had no notice that such a subject was to be published.”
“Sir,” said the photographer, “do permit me, with the most respectful
deference, to explain that I was taking views around the lake at the
Crystal Palace when you rescued that young lady from a watery grave.”
“What business had you--” began Harry.
“Go on, photographer,” cried the merchant. “My nephew seems to want
to hide a praiseworthy act. Let _me_ see these proofs that you have
brought.”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Ay--yes. I daresay they have an interest and value of their own, but,
without my glasses, I cannot very well decipher the different figures.
I must study them a little, for I fancy I know one face. You can leave
these with me while you go below and get some refreshment. I will ring
the bell.”
“All I want, gentlemen, is your authority to publish them.”
“On no account whatever,” said Harry, emphatically.
“I certainly agree with my nephew there,” added the merchant.
“James,” said Mr Goodall to the servant who came in answer to the
bell, “see that some refreshment is sent up into the dining-room for
this gentleman.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wait one minute, Mr Photographer, while I take another glance at your
photos. Yes, Harry, there you are, as plain as a pike-staff, in the
water, lifting up a lady, who looks more dead than alive, into a boat.
She has golden hair--dear, dear--and some distance from her is a man.
Surely I know that face. Who is he, photographer?”
“He was said to be the lady’s intended, sir.”
“The deuce he was; he doesn’t look as if he were worthy of her. I’m
glad to see my nephew occupies the post of honour.”
“It was a splendid act on the part of Mr Harry Goodall, but the gent
who is holding down the boat to balance it whilst the lady is being
lifted in, doesn’t show up to great advantage.”
“You don’t happen to know his name?” again asked Mr Goodall.
“No, sir; I wish I did, for several people have asked me, as he has
been cutting rather a queer figure at the Crystal Palace lately,
gentlemen, which you might have heard about?”
“Now,” said Mr Goodall, with a fixed look at the photographer, “you go
down and have some refreshment whilst I have a chat with my nephew.”
“Much obliged, I’m sure, sir.”
“You, Harry, must buy the negative of this affair, and so prevent
anything approaching to publicity; and if you attach no value to these
photos, I do. There is one for you and I will keep the other, and
here’s some extra cash to square the artist with, but don’t lose sight
of him until you reach Sydenham, and make the best arrangement you can;
that being done, do, my dear Harry, bring your travels in the air to a
close. I am not without hope that you will yet make your mark in the
world; in fact, you have done so already. If you are pledged to make
these ascents, do so, dear boy, and then do something more congenial
to my taste, for I will not hide from you that the accident to your
father may prove a turning point to the fortunes of our firm, and that
is why I wish to impress on you the great issues which may follow your
decision as to giving up ballooning and seeking an alliance with Miss
Dove.”
“When will this messenger from the pater come to see me, uncle?”
“I cannot answer that question off-hand. He may have been to the
Palace without your knowing it; but be guarded, Harry; he may not be a
well-wisher to you, after all.”
“Do you think the photo of the downcast man in the boat is like Mr
Falcon?”
“I can’t say for certain until I have studied the photo more closely.
There is some resemblance to the Sydney financier; at the same time,
his figure is something like our friend Captain Link’s, though his
expression of face is not so noble. I am rather puzzled to know what
his movements have been down at Wedwell Hall. He has been to see the
Doves on some monetary affairs, and I should have been glad to hear
that you had been there as well. However, it would be of little use, I
feel sure, for you to go there until you cut ballooning and join us in
the City.”
“I will think seriously of what you have said, uncle, but I will make
no promises.”
“Better not, Harry, if you would be likely to break them. I want
performances not promises, and I have faith in you yet; that is, if you
do not drift into the extreme flightiness of the days in which we live.”
“My own efforts, uncle, will not be in the form of flight; but they may
tend to expose the extravagances of those who pretend that they can
steer and fly.”
“And what then are _you_ going to do with balloons?”
“I hardly know at present, uncle, but I hope to show that balloons
and an air-ship can be made to do much more useful work than they are
supposed to be capable of performing.”
“Well, Harry, if in that negative style you can do the least good,
I wish you success, but I strongly recommend you to let aeronautics
alone, and to seek my friend Squire Dove and his daughter. That will be
a more profitable pastime, I should say.”