A TREACHEROUS STAGING._The Child Wife

Men make the crossing of the Atlantic in a Cunard steamer, sit side by

side, or _vis-a-vis_, at the same table, three and sometimes four times

a day, without ever a word passing between them, beyond the formulary

"May I trouble you for the castors?" or "The salt, please?"

They are usually men who have a very beautiful wife, a rich marriageable

daughter, or a social position of which they are proud.

No doubt these vulnerable individuals lead a very unhappy life of it on

board ship; especially when the cabin is crowded, and the company not

over select.

This occurs on a Cunarder only when the Canadian shopkeepers are

flocking for England, to make their fall purchases in the Manchester

market. Then, indeed, the crossing of the Atlantic is a severe trial to

a gentleman, whether he be English or American.

The _Cambria_ was full of them; and their company might have tried Sir

George Vernon, who was one of the assailable sort described. But as

these loyal transatlantic subjects of England had heard that he was

_Sir_ George Vernon, late governor of B--, it was hands off with them,

and the ex-governor was left to his exclusiveness.

For the very opposite reason was their company less tolerable to the

Austrian Count; who, republican as he was, could not bear the sight of

them. Their loyalty stank in his nostrils; and he seemed to long for an

opportunity of pitching one of them overboard.

Indeed there was once he came near, and perhaps would have done so, but

for the mediation of Maynard, who, although younger than the Count, was

of less irascible temperament.

Roseveldt was not without reason, as every American who has crossed in a

Cunard ship in those earlier days may remember. The super-loyal

Canadians were usually in the ascendant, and with their claqueries and

whisperings made it very uncomfortable for their republican

fellow-passengers--especially such republicans as the scene upon the

Jersey shore had shown Maynard and Roseveldt to be. It was before the

establishment of the more liberal Inman line; whose splendid ships are a

home for all nationalities, hoisting the starry flag of America as high

as the royal standard of England.

Returning to our text; that men may cross the Atlantic in the same

cabin, and dine at the same table, without speaking to one another,

there was an instance on board the _Cambria_. The individuals in

question were Sir George Vernon and Captain Maynard.

At every meal their elbows almost touched; for the steward, no doubt by

chance, had ticketed them to seats side by side.

At the very first dinner they had ever eaten together a coldness had

sprung up between them that forbade all further communication. Some

remark Maynard had made, intended to be civil, had been received with a

hauteur that stung the young soldier; and from that moment a silent

reserve was established.

Either would have gone without the salt, rather than ask it of the

other!

It was unfortunate for Maynard, and he felt it. He longed to converse

with that strangely interesting child; and this was no longer possible.

Delicacy hindered him from speaking to her apart; though he could scarce

have found opportunity, as her father rarely permitted her to stray from

his side.

And by his side she sat at the table; on that other side where Maynard

could not see her, except in the mirror!

That mirror lined the length of the saloon, and the three sat opposite

to it when at table.

For twelve days he gazed into it, during the eating of every meal;

furtively at the face of Sir George, his glance changing as it fell on

that other face reflected from the polished plate in hues of rose and

gold. How often did he inwardly anathematise a Canadian Scotchman, who

sat opposite, and whose huge shaggy "pow" interposed between him and the

beautiful reflection!

Was the child aware of this secondhand surveillance? Was she, too, at

times vexed by the exuberant _chevelure_ of the Caledonian, that

hindered her from the sight of eyes gazing affectionately, almost

tenderly, upon her?

It is difficult to say. Young girls of thirteen have sometimes strange

fancies. And it is true, though strange, that, with them, the man of

thirty has more chance of securing their attention than when they are

ten years older! Then their young heart, unsuspicious of deception,

yields easier to the instincts of Nature's innocency, receiving like

soft plastic wax the impress of that it admires. It is only later that

experience of the world's wickedness trains it to reticence and

suspicion.

During those twelve days Maynard had many a thought about that child's

face seen in the glass--many a surmise as to whether, and what, she

might be thinking of him.

But Cape Clear came in sight, and he was no nearer to a knowledge of her

inclinings than when he first saw her, on parting from Sandy Hook! Nor

was there any change in his. As he stood upon the steamer's deck,

coasting along the southern shore of his native land, with the Austrian

by his side, he made the same remark he had done within sight of Staten

Island.

"I have a presentiment that child will yet be my wife!"

And again he repeated it, in the midst of the Mersey's flood, when the

tender became attached to the great ocean steamer, and the passengers

were being taken off--among them Sir George Vernon and his daughter--

soon to disappear from his sight--perhaps never to be seen more.

What could be the meaning of this presentiment, so seemingly absurd?

Sprung from the gaze given him on the deck, where he had first seen her;

continued by many a glance exchanged in the cabin mirror; left by her

last look as she ascended the steps leading to the stage-plank of the

tender--what could be its meaning?

Even he who felt it could not answer the question. He could only repeat

to himself the very unsatisfactory rejoinder he had often heard among

the Mexicans, "_Quien sabe_?"

He little thought how near that presentiment was of being strengthened.

One of those trivial occurrences, that come so close to becoming an

accident, chanced, as the passengers were being transferred from the

steamer to the "tug."

The aristocratic ex-governor, shy of being hustled by a crowd, had

waited to the last, his luggage having been passed before him. Only

Maynard, Roseveldt, and a few others still stood upon the gangway,

politely giving him place.

Sir George had stepped out upon the staging, his daughter close

following; the mulatto, bag in hand, with some space intervening,

behind.

A rough breeze was on the Mersey, with a strong quick current; and by

some mischance the hawser, holding the two boats together, suddenly gave

way. The anchored ship held her ground, while the tug drifted rapidly

sternward. The stage-plank became slewed, its outer end slipping from

the paddle-box just as Sir George set foot upon the tender. With a

crash it went down upon the deck below.

The servant, close parting from the bulwarks, was easily dragged back

again; but the child, halfway along the staging, was in imminent danger

of being projected into the water. The spectators saw it

simultaneously, and a cry from both ships proclaimed the peril. She had

caught the hand-rope, and was hanging on, the slanted plank affording

her but slight support.

And in another instant it would part from the tender, still driving

rapidly astern. It _did_ part, dropping with a plash upon the seething

waves below; but not before a man, gliding down the slope, had thrown

his arm around the imperilled girl, and carried her safely back over the

bulwarks of the steamer!

There was no longer a coldness between Sir George Vernon and Captain

Maynard; for it was the latter who had rescued the child.

As they parted on the Liverpool landing, hands were shaken, and cards

exchanged--that of the English baronet accompanied with an invitation

for the revolutionary leader to visit him at his country-seat; the

address given upon the card, "Vernon Park, Sevenoaks, Kent."

It is scarce necessary to say that Maynard promised to honour the

invitation, and made careful registry of the address.

And now, more than ever, did he feel that strange forecast, as he saw

the girlish face, with its deep blue eyes, looking gratefully from the

carriage-window, in which Sir George, with his belongings, was whirled

away from the wharf.

His gaze followed that thing of roseate hue; and long after it was out

of sight he stood thinking of it.

It was far from agreeable to be aroused from his dreamy reverie--even by

a voice friendly as that of Roseveldt!

The Count was by his side; holding in his hand a newspaper.

It was the _Times_ of London, containing news to them of painful import.

It did not come as a shock. The journals brought aboard by the pilot--

as usual, three days old--had prepared them for a tale of disaster.

What they now read was only its confirmation.

"It's true!" said Roseveldt, pointing to the conspicuous capitals:

THE PRUSSIAN TROOPS HAVE TAKEN RASTADT!

THE BAVARIAN REVOLUTION AT AN END!

As he pointed to this significant heading, a wild oath, worthy of one of

Schiller's student robbers, burst from his lips, while he struck his

heel down upon the floating wharf as though he would have crushed the

plank beneath him.

"A curse!" he cried, "an eternal curse upon the perjured King of

Prussia! And those stupid North Germans! I knew he would never keep

his oath to them?"

Maynard, though sad, was less excited. It is possible that he bore the

disappointment better by thinking of that golden-haired girl. She would

still be in England; where he must needs now stay.

This was his first reflection. It was not a resolve; only a transient

thought.

It passed almost on the instant, at an exclamation from Roseveldt once