GOOD-BY.
Minnie's obliviousness of what was right had never before been
presented so clearly to Joshua. He knew well enough that Minnie,
although she was aware that it was wrong to steal, could not
understand that she did wrong in stealing the shell. At the same time
he could not help feeling tenderly towards her because of that wrong
action. After all, how much she was to be pitied! Could it be wondered
at that she was hard to teach, and that she was wayward and wilful,
living such a lonely life as she lived, with no friend to counsel, no
mother to guide her? How quaint was her fancy, and what a pretty thing
it was to see her as he saw her in his imaginings--sitting alone in
her room, with the shell at her ear, listening to the singing of the
sea! With what a daintily-caressing motion she nestled to him when he
called her "Little Minnie!" He repeated the pet words to himself,
"Little Minnie, little Minnie!" as he walked along, and smiled. As for
her telling him that she would like to go to sea with him, what was it
but a childish whimsey? If he had not contradicted her, and made a
matter of importance of it, she would have said it, and there an end.
She would like to go to sea with him, and would follow him if she were
a woman: Well! she was but a child, and the wish was as innocent as
her declaration that she loved him.
When he had thought out all this, he thought of to-morrow, and looked
round upon the familiar streets and the familiar houses with a pang of
regret. To-morrow he would be far away from them, and every succeeding
day would take him farther and farther away from them and all that he
loved. From mother, father, the Old Sailor, his pet birds, and from
Dan--ah! dear, dear Dan! Did ever boy or man have such a friend? Then
there was Ellen, his dear little sweetheart in the days when they were
children together. Was there ever such another unselfish little maid
as that? So devoted, so tender, so loving! How quickly she had won
the heart of the Old Sailor! He remembered that old salt saying,
pointing his great finger at Ellen as he said it, "Joshua, my lad,
that little lass there is the prettiest, the best, the truest and the
kindest-hearted in these dominions." And he remembered himself looking
at Ellen's mild face--peaceful as a lake--and saying, "So she is,
sir," and meaning it heartily; and he remembered the Old Sailor
saying, "That's right, my lad; all you've got to do is to mind your
bearings." Although he had answered, "Yes, sir, I will," he wondered
afterwards, and he found himself wondering now, what on earth the Old
Sailor meant by saying, "Mind your bearings." But what matter? Ellen
_was_ the prettiest, the best, the truest, and the kindest-hearted
lass in these or any other dominions. God bless her!
As he thought of these things, he felt himself growing so
soft-hearted, that he stopped and stamped his feet upon the pavement,
and thumped himself upon the chest, saying as he did so, between
laughing and crying, "This won't do, Josh; this won't do."
He had given himself a score of thumps, and had said, "This won't do,
Josh," half-a-score of times, when loud cries for help fell upon
his ears. He had been walking in the direction of the river, through
some of the streets where he would be most likely to find Basil
Kindred; and he was in a locality where there was a number of low
public-houses, patronized by the worst class of seamen. Turning in the
direction of the cry, Joshua saw a woman run swiftly out of a narrow
thoroughfare. Pursuing her was a man, a dark-looking fellow, with
glittering eyes, and rings in his ears, and a knife in his hand, and
with all his copper-colored fingers and black-serpent locks of hair
flashing in the air with evil intent. Impelled by the unmistakable air
of terror in the form of the flying girl, and the unmistakable air of
mischief in the form of the pursuing man--partly, also, by the
impulsion born of the hunting spirit implanted in man and beast,
Joshua started off at a great pace, and flew after the flying couple.
It was that part of the day when the neighborhood was most quiet. All
the men were at work in the dockyards, and the few women about (having
a wholesome horror probably of a man with an open knife in his hand,
and being perhaps accustomed to such diversions) seemed disinclined to
take part in the chase. With the exception of one drunken creature,
with a blotched and bloated face, who made a frantic motion to follow,
but being tripped up by her draggling petticoats, stumbled, more like
a heap of rags than a woman, into the gutter, Where she lay growling
indistinctly.
The flying woman and the pursuing man were fleet of foot, but Joshua
was younger and more nimble than they. As he gained upon them, a dim
consciousness stole upon him that he knew them; and, as he approached
nearer, the doubt grew into conviction. The almost breathless woman,
throwing affrighted looks behind her, as if a dozen men were pursuing
her instead of one, was Susan; and the evil-looking man who was bent
on running her down was the Lascar who served the Old Sailor, and who
cooked for him, and would have poisoned him for rum and tobacco. Some
other than those, the ruling cravings of his existence, influenced him
now. All the passions of love and hate, and the desire to achieve his
purpose by striking terror, were expressed in every motion of every
limb: they were so eloquent and earnest in the savage pursuit that
they seemed to proclaim their owner's intention, as he raced after the
panting girl.
He was almost upon her, and she felt his ugly lips reeking their
detestable flavor of rum and tobacco upon her neck, when Joshua,
coming up to him, seized him by the throat. He had been so savagely
vindictive in the pursuit, that Joshua's hand upon his throat was the
first indication he received that he was being himself pursued; but,
wasting no look upon his pursuer, he slipped from Joshua like an
eel--his neck was redolent of grease--and with an inarticulate cry of
rage and baffled lust, he sprang after Susan again, who had gained a
few steps by Joshua's ineffectual interposition. But Susan, thoroughly
bewildered and terrified, turned into a blind alley, and perceiving
that there was no thoroughfare, and that she was trapped, fell upon
the rough stones, prostrate from fear and exhaustion.
On one side of the blind alley were four or five houses, in which no
signs of life were visible. They seemed stricken to death by disease.
On the other side was a black dead wall, which shut out the sky.
Before the Lascar could reach Susan--what the man's intention was, or
what he would have done in his wild fury, he, being more beast than
man, might probably not have been able to explain--Joshua had knocked
the knife out of his hand, and had knocked him down with a blow, the
force of which astonished Joshua himself, even in the midst of his
excitement. Almost before Joshua could realize what had occurred, the
cowardly Lascar was crouching by the side of the dead wall, as if his
lair were there, and Joshua was on his knee assisting Susan to recover
herself; keeping a wary look, however, upon the knife, which was lying
in the road at an equal distance from him and the Lascar. The Lascar
saw it too--saw it without looking at it, and without seeming to see
it. A surprising change had taken place in him. A minute since a
volcano of delirious lust was raging in his breast, and every nerve in
his body was quivering with dangerous passion; now, as if by magic, he
was coiled up like a snake, with no motion of life in him but the
quiet glitter of his eyes, which watched every thing, but seemed to
watch nothing.
"What is it all about, Susan?" asked Joshua in wonderment, after a
pause. But, before Susan could reply, a crawling motion on the part of
the Lascar towards the knife caused Joshua to spring into the road.
The snake had no chance with the panther. The Lascar was knocked back
to his position by the dead wall, and Joshua stood over him grasping
the knife. This was the most eventful transaction that had ever
occurred to Joshua; and, as he stood over his antagonist palming the
knife, a strange sensation of pride in his own strength tingled
through his veins. There was blood upon the Lascar's face; Joshua had
struck him so fiercely as to loosen one of his teeth--so decidedly to
loosen it, that the Lascar put his finger into his mouth and drew it
out. He said nothing, however, but kept the tooth clasped in his
hand.
"You black devil!" exclaimed Joshua, gazing upon the crouching figure
with a kind of loathing amazement. "What do you mean by all this?"
The Lascar wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve, and shaking
the hair from his eyes, threw upon Joshua a covert look of deadly
malice--a look expressive of a bloody-minded craving to have Joshua
helpless on the stones beneath him, that he might press the life out
of his enemy. His eye spoke, but his tongue uttered no word. Raging
inwardly as he was with bad passion, he had sufficient control over
himself to suppress any spoken manifestation of it. But his attitude
and demeanor were not less dangerous for all that.
"He follows me everywhere," said Susan, still gasping and panting for
breath. "He dogs me by day and by night. He waylays me in the dark,
and I can hardly get away from him."
"What for?" demanded Joshua, with his eye upon the Lascar, who was
sitting cunningly quiet, nursing his wounded mouth.
"I don't know," replied Susan, with an appalled look over her
shoulder, as if she were haunted by a fear that the spirit of the
Lascar was there, notwithstanding that he was crouching before her in
the ugly flesh. "I am afraid to think."
"Afraid! in broad daylight!"
"Day or night it is all the same," moaned Susan. "Whenever he sees me,
he dogs me till I am ready to die. You don't know his power--you don't
know his power!"
"What were you doing before I saw you?"
"I was looking for some one."
"For whom?"
"For Mr. Kindred," with a curious hesitation.
"For Mr. Kindred!" exclaimed Joshua, more amazed than ever; "why for
him?"
"He is ill. I will tell you about it by and by," replied Susan
nervously. "I thought I should find him in this neighborhood, and
while I was looking for him, he"--pointing to the Lascar with a
shudder--"he saw me and spoke to me, and would not leave me--wanted me
to go with him and drink with him, and when I refused, he seized me,
and then--then--I scratched him--and--I don't remember any thing more,
except that I was afraid he wanted to kill me."
Joshua looked up at the Lascar's face, and observed the scratch for
the first time. It was a long scratch downwards from the eye to the
wounded mouth. The Lascar made no attempt to hide it, but sat still,
with his hand on his mouth.
"Serve you right, you black dog!" exclaimed Joshua. "What do you mean
by dogging her? What do you mean by following her with a knife? Why,
you Lascar dog, for two pins"--he raised his hand indignantly, and
advanced a step towards the Lascar, who made a shrinking movement
backwards, although in truth he could not get nearer to the dead wall
than he was already.
"Don't, Joshua, don't!" cried Susan, seizing his arm, and clinging to
him imploringly. "Don't touch him, for God's sake, or"--with another
scared look behind her--"he'll haunt you as he haunts me."
A taunting wicked smile crossed the Lascar's lips, but it was gone a
moment afterwards. It might have been the shadow of an evil thought
finding expression there.
"How does he haunt you more than you have already told me he does?"
demanded Joshua in a great heat. "You don't think he can frighten me
as he frightens you, Susan, do you? The black dog! Look at him! He's
frightened of a white man's little finger!"
"Hush!" implored Susan. "He haunts me when he is not near me."
"How can he do that, you foolish girl?"
"He does it--he _can_ do it--with his double!"
"His double?"
"He has a double--a spirit, a wicked spirit"--she turned her head
slowly and trembled in every limb; "and he told me it should haunt me,
and follow me wherever I go. And it does! I feel it behind me when I
don't see him. It is there now! It is there now!" And wrought to the
highest pitch of mental terror and excitement, Susan threw up her
hands, and would have fallen to the ground but for Joshua's protecting
arm.
The taunting smile came again upon the Lascar's lips, as he secretly
watched Susan's terror. With a special maliciousness he flashed his
fingers towards her, as if he were issuing a command to his double not
to leave her. It was evidence of the power he possessed over her weak
mind that, notwithstanding her almost fainting condition, a stronger
shuddering came upon her when he made even that slight motion.
Feeling that, for Susan's sake, it was necessary to put an end to the
scene, Joshua, with an indignant motion, commanded the Lascar to leave
them. The Lascar rose submissively, like a whipped dog, and so stood
with bent head before Joshua.
"Now then, what are you waiting for?" asked Joshua.
"My knife," answered the Lascar doggedly.
"Not likely," said Joshua; "I know you too well to let you have it."
"What do you know of me?" asked the Lascar in a low guttural voice.
"I have heard enough of you from Mr. Meddler"--the Lascar grated his
teeth with tigerish ferocity--"you and the likes of you. I know how
free you are with your knives, you Lascars, on land and on sea. Be
off!"
"My knife!" again demanded the Lascar, with his eyes directed to
Joshua's feet; but he saw Joshua's face and every motion of Joshua's
body. "My knife! It is mine. I bought it and paid for it."
"Stole it more likely," said Joshua with a sneer.
"It is a lie. I bought it. Even if I did steal it, you have no right
to it. Give me my knife, and let me go."
"Joshua reflected. Clearly he had no just claim to the man's knife,
and had no right to retain it. His mind was soon made up. Releasing
his hold of Susan, he placed the blade beneath his foot, and broke it
off close to the handle. Then he threw the handle and the blade over
the Lascar's head. A dangerous fire gleamed in the man's downcast eyes
and a cold-blooded grating of teeth came from his mouth. He stood
silent for a few moments, with his hands tightly pressed, striving to
master the devil that was raging within him. But he could not restrain
his passion.
"Curse you!" he hissed; "I owe you something; I will pay it you, by
hell!"
He crouched to receive the blow which he expected Joshua would give
him, in return for his curse. But no blow was given nor intended; yet
he quivered as if he had been struck before he spoke again.
"See you!" he cried; "I never forget--never--never! My turn will come.
You called me black devil"--
"So you are," said Joshua scornfully. "And black dog--dog of a
Lascar!"
"So you are."
"You shall pay for it! If it is years before I can pay you, you shall
be paid for it! See you--remember!" With all his fingers menacingly,
as if each was possessed with a distinct will, and was swearing
vengeance against Joshua. "Your life shall pay for it--more than your
life shall pay for it!" He spat upon the ground and trod savagely upon
the spittle. "I mark you--see!" With his forefinger he marked a cross
in the air. "I put this cross against you--curse you!"
Susan, gazing on with sight terror-fixed, saw the infuriated man stamp
upon the stones, as if he had Joshua's life-blood beneath his foot,
and then saw the cross marked in the air. The fire of her fevered
imagination gave red color to the shadowy lines; and when the Lascar
lowered his forefinger, she saw the recorded cross standing
unsupported in the air--a cross of bright red blood. Fascinated, she
gazed until the bright color faded into two dusky lines, and so
remained. Joshua laughed lightly at the vindictive action and the
curse; yet he did not feel quite at his ease.
"Come, Susan," he said, "let us be going."
But Susan did not move. Every sense was absorbed in watching the
dreadful cross and the Lascar's passion-distorted face. He, stooping
to pick up the handle of the knife and the broken blade, turned again
upon Joshua, and remained faithful to his theme.
"Don't forget," he said in his low, bad voice, the words coming slowly
from a throat almost choked with passion. "By this"--placing his hand
upon his wounded mouth--"and these"--holding up the pieces of the
knife--"I will keep you in mind. If it is to-morrow, or next week, or
next month, you shall be paid! The dog of a Lascar never forgets! See
you--remember!"
"Storm away," said Joshua, drawing Susan aside to allow the Lascar to
pass. "You will have to be very quick about it, for to-morrow I go to
sea."
"You do, eh!" exclaimed the Lascar, with another harsh grating of his
teeth, and stopping suddenly in his course. "See you now--take this
with you for my good-by!" With a swift motion, he cut his finger with
the broken blade, and shook the blood at Joshua. It fell in a sprinkle
over his clothes, and a drop plashed into his face. The Lascar saw it,
and laughed. "Take that with you for luck!" he cried. "By that mark I
shall live to pay you, and you will live to be paid!"
So saying, he turned and fled. Joshua sprang after him, but the man
was out of sight in a minute. Returning to Susan, Joshua found her
sitting upon the pavement, nursing her knees and sobbing
distressfully.
"O Josh!" she cried, "it is a bad omen."
"Not at all," said Joshua, cooling down a little, and wiping the spot
of blood from his face. "What does the old proverb say? 'Curses always
come home to roost.' Do you hear me?"
It was evident that she did not; her fright was still strong upon her.
With a shrinking movement of her head, she looked slowly round, and
clutching Joshua's hand, whispered, "For pity's sake, don't let him
come near me! Hold me tight! Keep close to me! He is not gone!"
With a firm and gentle force, Joshua compelled her to stand upright.
"There is no one here but you and I," he said, in a firm voice. "You
are letting your fancies make a baby of you. There is no one here but
you and I. If you will not believe what I say--I can see, I suppose,
and I am calm, while you are in a regular fever--if you will not
believe what I say, I shall leave you."
"No, no!" she cried, clinging to him.
He compelled her to walk two or three times up and down the court. His
decided action calmed her. She gave vent to a sigh of relief, and
wiped her eyes.
"That's right," said Joshua as they walked out of the court. "Now I
can tell you that I am glad I have met you. I join my ship to-morrow."
"I had no idea you were going away so soon."
"I am going now to see if Mr. Kindred is at home."
"I live in the same house as he does," she said, looking timidly at
Joshua.
"That is strange. Are you and he intimate?"
"Yes. They are poor, you know, Joshua."
"So are you, Susey."
"But I can help them a little. He's often ill, and Minnie isn't strong
enough to take care of him, and so I nurse him sometimes. Minnie and I
are great friends."
When they arrived at Basil Kindred's poor lodging, Minnie met them at
the door. With her finger to her lips, she motioned them to be quiet.
"Tread softly," she whispered; "father has come home, and is lying
down."
They walked to the bed, and saw Basil Kindred lying on the bed in
unquiet sleep. Susan placed her hand on his hot forehead, and said,--
"I have been afraid of this for a long time, Josh. He has got a fever.
What would he do without me now?"
There was a touch of pride in her voice as she asked the question. The
pride arose from the conviction that the man she loved really needed
her help, and from the knowledge that she could make some little
sacrifice for him.
"He is very, very ill, I think," whispered Minnie.
"We will make him well between us, Minnie," said Susan.
Al! the fears by which she was assailed but a few minutes since were
gone. Joshua was glad to see that, at all events.
Minnie took Susan's hand gratefully, and kissed it.
"She has been so good to us, Joshua," she said.
Susan's eyes kindled, and she directed to Joshua a look which said,
"Have I not done right in coming to live here? See how useful I can
be, and how happy I am!"
"I shall tell them at home where you live, Susey," said Joshua.
"Very well. Give my love to Dan."
Joshua nodded, and bent over Basil Kindred. The action disturbed the
sleeping man. He seized Joshua's wrist in his burning hand, and said,
in a trembling voice, "She died in my arms, and the earth was her bed.
The stars were ashamed to look upon her. Well they might be! Well they
might be!"
"He is speaking of his wife," said Susan softly to Joshua. "He loved
her very dearly, and would have died for her. When she died, his heart
almost broke."
Sympathy and devotion made her voice like sweet music. Joshua looked
at her with a feeling of wonder, and was amazed at the change that had
come over her. An hour ago, she was crouching in drivelling terror,
overpowered by absurd fancies; now she moved about cheerfully, strong
in her purpose of love. But he had never in all his life seen her as
he saw her now. He bade her good-by, and she wished him Godspeed, and
kissed him. Minnie accompanied him to the door.
"Good-by, dear little Minnie," he said.
"Good-by," she said, with tears in her voice. "You forgive me, don t
you, for what I said this afternoon?"
"Yes, my dear."
"Ah! I like to hear you speak like that; it sounds sweet and good.
Say, 'I forgive you, little Minnie.'"
"But I haven't any thing to forgive, now I come to think of it."
"Yes, you have. You say that out of your good nature. You mustn't go
away and leave me to think that you are angry with me."
"I am not angry with you, Minnie. After all, what you did, you did
through love, and there could not be much wrong in it."
The brightest of bright expressions stole into her face, and she
clasped her hands with joy.
"Say that again, Joshua, word for word, as you said it just now."
"What you did, you did through love," repeated Joshua to please her,
"and there could not be much wrong in it."
"O Joshua!" she cried, pressing her hands to her face, "you have made
me almost quite happy. I have heard father say the same thing, but in
different words. Now I shall follow you to sea. Yes, I shall, with
this," holding up her shell. "To-morrow night, and every night that
you are at sea, I shall listen to my shell and think of you."
"Stupid little Minnie," he said affectionately.
"And you will come back in a year?"
"I hope so, please God."
"Then I shall be growing quite a woman," she said thoughtfully.
The next moment she raised her face quickly to his. The tears were
streaming down it. As he bent to her, she caught him round the neck,
and kissed him once, twice, thrice, with more than the passionate
affection, but with all the innocence, of a child. Then she ran into
the house; and Joshua, taking that as a farewell, walked slowly
homewards, to go through the hardest trial of all.
That hardest trial through which he had to go awaited him at home. All
the members of the Marvel family, and Dan and Ellen Taylor, were
assembled together in the old familiar kitchen. They were all of them
sad at heart, and made themselves sadder by vain little attempts to be
cheerful. The tea was a very silent affair, and the two or three extra
delicacies provided by Mrs. Marvel--as if it were a feast they were
sitting down to--were failures. The most remarkable feature about the
tea was the pretence they all made to eat and drink a great deal, and
the miserableness of the result. They pretended to accomplish
prodigies, and handed about the bread-and-butter and the cake very
industriously, as if it were each person's duty to be mightily anxious
about every other person's appetite, and to utterly ignore his own.
But every thing in the way of eating and drinking was a mistake. The
bread-and-butter was disregarded, and was taken away in disgrace; the
cake was slighted, and retired in dudgeon. It was a relief when the
tea-things were cleared. Mrs. Marvel was the bravest of the party; she
who had so strongly protested against Joshua's going to sea, did all
she could to administer little crumbs of comfort to every one of them,
and especially to her husband, who had so heartily encouraged Joshua
not to do as his father had done before him, but who was now the most
outwardly miserable person in the kitchen. Thus, Mrs. Marvel sang
snatches of songs, and bustled about as if she really enjoyed Joshua's
going, and was glad to get rid of him. When she had accomplished a
good deal of nothing, she rose and did nothing else; and when that was
done, she sat down and remonstrated with her good man, and would even
have rejoiced if she could have worried him into blowing her up.
"Don't take on so, George," she said; "you ought to be cheerful
to-night of all nights. What is the use of fretting? Joshua's going to
make a man of himself, and to do good for all of us--ain't you, my
dear?"
"I intend it, mother, you may be sure."
"Of course you do; and here is father in the dumps when he ought to be
up in the skies."
"Some day, I hope," said George Marvel, mustering up spirit to have
his joke in the midst of his sadness; "not just now, though. I want to
see what sort of a figure Josh will cut in the world first. Give me my
pipe, Maggie."
Mrs. Marvel made a great fuss in getting the pipe, knocking down a
chair, and clattering things about, and humming a verse of her
favorite song, "Bread-and-Cheese and Kisses;" and really made matters
a little less sad by her bustle. Then, instead of handing her husband
the pipe without moving from her seat, as she might have done, she
made a sweep round the table, and pinched Ellen's cheek, and patted
Dan on the head, and wiped her eyes on the sly, and kissed Joshua, and
so worked her way to George Marvel, and put the pipe between his lips.
"You are as active as a girl, Maggie," said George Marvel, putting his
arm round her waist, and gently detaining her by his side.
She looked down into his eyes, and for the life of her could not help
the tears gathering in her own. She made no further attempts to be
cheerful; and what little conversation was indulged in occurred
between long intervals of silence. They had an early supper; for
Joshua was to rise at daybreak. When supper was over, George Marvel
took out the Bible, and in an impressive voice read from it the one
hundred and seventh Psalm. They all stood round the table with bent
heads, Joshua standing between his mother and Dan, clasping a hand of
each. Very solemn was George Marvel's voice when he came to the
twenty-third verse:--
"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great
waters;
These see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep.
For He commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the
waves thereof.
They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths;
their soul is melted because of trouble.
They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at
their wits' end.
Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and He bringeth them
out of their distresses.
He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.
Then are they glad because they be quiet; so He bringeth them unto
their desired haven."
When the reading of the Psalm was over, and they had stood silent for
a little while, they raised their heads, but could scarcely see each
other for the tears in their eyes. Then they kissed, and said
goodnight; and Joshua, casting a wistful glance round the kitchen,
every piece of furniture and crockery in which appeared to share in
the general regret, assisted Dan up to his bedroom for the last time.
They had scarcely time to sit down before the handle was gently
turned, and George Marvel entered. In the room were all Joshua's
little household gods--his accordion, his favorite books, and his dear
little feathered friends.
George Marvel threw his arm round Joshua's waist, and drew him close.
"What are you going to do with the birds, Josh?" he asked.
"Dan will take care of them, father."
"Don't fret at leaving them--or us. Be a man, Josh--be a man," he
said, with the tears running down his face.
"Yes, dear father, I will," said Joshua with a great sob.
"An don't forget father and mother, my boy."
"No, father, never!"
"It's better than being a wood-turner, Josh. Don't you think so?"
doubting at the last moment the wisdom of his having encouraged Joshua
in the step he was about to take.
"A great deal better, father. You'll see!"
"That's right, Josh--that's right! I'm glad to hear you say so.
Goodnight, my boy. God bless you!" And pressing Joshua in his arms,
and kissing him, George Marvel went away to bed.
He had not been gone two minutes before the handle of the door was
turned again, and Mrs. Marvel's pale face appeared. She did not enter
the room; and Joshua ran to her. She drew him on to the narrow
landing, and shut the door, so that they were in darkness. She pressed
him to her bosom, and kissed him many times, and cried over him
quietly.
"O mother!" whispered Joshua, "shall I go? Shall I go?"
"Hush, dear child," Mrs. Marvel said. "It is the very best thing; and
you must not doubt now. Bless you, my dear, dear child! You will come
home a man; and we shall all be so proud of you--so proud--and happy!"
She pressed him closer, and tried to speak cheerfully; but it was a
poor attempt. "And write whenever you can, and tell us every thing."
"Yes; I will be sure."
"Be a good boy, Joshua."
"Yes, mother."
"And you will say your prayers every night?"
"I will, mother."
"Dear child, God will protect you. I shall think of you of a night
saying your prayers my dear, and it will comfort me so! And here I am,
keeping my boy out of bed, like a selfish, selfish, selfish mother!
Now, my dear, one more kiss, and say goodnight."
He kissed her again, and she left his arms, and crept softly to her
room. These heart-shocks were hard to bear, and he paused to recover
himself before he re-entered the room. Dan did not look at him, nor
ask him any questions. But Joshua sat down beside Dan, and said,--
"It was mother kept me, Dan."
"Yes, I know, Jo dear. There's somebody else at the door."
It was Sarah, who asked if she might come in. Of course she might. And
might Ellen come in? Of course. So Ellen came in, and she and Sarah
sat with their brothers for a few minutes. They talked quietly
together, and Joshua drew close to Ellen, and grew calmer as he looked
at her sweet peaceful face. She raised her eyes shyly to his, and told
him she had a little present for him, and would he accept it? _There_
was a question to ask him! Joshua answered almost gayly. She produced
her present--a poor little purse, which she had herself worked for
him--and Joshua kissed it, and kissed her afterwards, and she nestled
to his side very tenderly and very prettily, and cast down her eyes,
and was perfectly happy. The girls did not stay long. Goodnight was
said again and again, and Joshua asked Ellen to kiss him, and she did
so without hesitation. When they were gone, Joshua sat down, and
rested his head upon his hands. He was weary after the day's
excitement, but although he was tired, he was wakeful, and did not
feel inclined for sleep. So he and Dan had a long chat together,
recalling the many tender memories that enriched their friendship.
"I have a present for you, too, Jo," said Dan, producing a Bible.
Joshua opened it, and read on the first page, "From Dan, to his
dearest friend and brother, Joshua. With undying love and confidence."
"With undying love and confidence," mused Joshua. "Nothing could ever
change our friendship, Dan, could it?"
"Nothing, Jo."
"Come, now," said Joshua, "suppose, for the sake of argument, that I
was to turn out bad."
Dan smiled. "That couldn't happen, Jo."
Thereupon Joshua told Dan the adventure he had had that day with Susan
and the Lascar. "And, do you know, Dan, when I knocked him down, and
saw his mouth bleeding. I was glad--savagely glad, I am sorry to say.
Yet afterwards when I thought of it, and when I think of it now, it
seems as if it was a bad feeling that possessed me."
"It doesn't seem so to me, Jo; it gives me greater confidence in you.
If you had not acted so, what would have become of poor Susan?"
"That's true," said Joshua.
"I knew all along, Jo dear, that you were loving and tender and good,
but I did not know until now that you were so bold and brave. And so
strong too! I am proud of you. You can't tell what may happen. Think
of this strange new world you are going to now, Jo, and of the strange
things the Old Sailor has told us of it. You have no more idea of the
wonders you will see than I have. But you will see them, and I shall
see them through you. Listen now to me, Jo. I love you, my dearest
friend and brother, and you have my undying love and confidence. I, a
poor helpless cripple, had no future of my own; and you have given me
one. I live in you. I shall follow you in my thoughts, in my dreams.
Somehow, Jo, our minds have grown together, and I smile at your words
that you might turn out bad. Could you believe it of me, if I was
strong like you even?"
"No."
"You answer for me Jo. You have always been noble and good to me, and
you will always be the same. I would not think of thanking you, Jo,
for what you have done for me--I would not think of thanking you for
making my poor crippled legs a blessing to me instead of a burden. Not
with words do I or can I repay you--but with undying love and
confidence. Kiss me now, Jo, and say that you fully understand my
friendship and truth."
"Fully, Dan;" kissing him. "And I have never forgotten what I promised
you a long time ago, Dan. Wherever I am, and whatever I shall see I
will think, 'Dan is here with me, although I cannot see him.' Although
we are parted, we shall be together."
"Yes, in spirit, Jo dear," said Dan with a beautiful light of
happiness upon his face. "And now, goodnight."
"Good night, Dan."
"If I am asleep in the morning, Jo, do not wake me. I am content to
part from you now with this goodnight."
"Very well, Dan. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, MY FRIEND."
With that Dan turned to the wall, and Joshua, going to the bird-cages
hanging in that the room, said goodnight to the birds. They were
asleep on their perches, and he did not disturb them. "They will give
me a chirrup in the morning," he thought, and, blowing out the candle,
he said his prayers and went to bed. But he could not sleep; the
events of the day presented themselves to his mind in the strangest
forms. Minnie and her shell came and faded away, and her place was
filled by Susan nursing Basil Kindred; then came the ugly figure of
the Lascar crouching down, and afterwards making a cross against him,
and cursing him; his father reading the Psalm, while they all stood
round; he and his mother standing in the dark passage, and his mother
sobbing over him; Ellen kissing him and nestling close to him, oh so
prettily and innocently! All these pictures presented themselves to
him consecutively at first; but presently they grew disturbed, and the
Lascar, the evil genius of the group, was mischievously and
triumphantly at work, now in one shape, now in another. Joshua and
Ellen were sitting together when the Lascar came between them, and
struck Ellen out of the picture. Then the two were locked in a deadly
struggle on the ground, and the Lascar, overpowering him, knelt upon
his chest and hissed, "I could take your life, but that won't satisfy
me. More than your life shall pay for what you have done." Other
phases of his fancies were, that Dan believed him to be false. "My
doing!" hissed the Lascar. That Ellen believed him to be wicked. "My
doing!" hissed the Lascar. That they all believed him to be bad. "My
doing!" hissed the Lascar. That they were all grouped together, and
were turning from him, and that the Lascar, holding him fast,
whispered that that was his revenge. At length the combinations became
so distressing, that Joshua, to shake off the fancies, rose in his bed
and opened his eyes. The moonlight was streaming in through the
window, and Joshua crept quietly to the water-jug and sprinkled some
water over his face. Then, his mind being calmer, he knelt down by the
side of the bed; and Dan, who had not slept, raised himself upon his
elbow, and, seeing his friend in prayerful attitude, smiled softly to
himself and was glad.