THE ONLY DUTY THAT MINNIE CAN UNDERSTAND.
The "Merry Andrew" was nearly ready for sea again, and Joshua, having
been duly installed as third mate, was busily employed superintending
cargo. The Old Sailor was immensely delighted, and took an active
interest in Joshua's doings. When he was told of the engagement
between Joshua and Ellen, he smacked Joshua on the back and shook his
hand again and again, and kissed Ellen a dozen times, the old rogue!
as if he were the lucky man, and Joshua had nothing to do with it. He
took a private opportunity of entering into a confidential
conversation with the young lovers, and told them he had made over his
barge and all his little property to Ellen and Joshua jointly, "for
better or worse," he added, with a vague idea that those words were
necessary in the circumstances of the case. And he took many other
opportunities of instructing Joshua in the duties of mate and master,
and also in navigation and astronomy. He was more exacting than any
Marine Board would have been, and his instructions and examinations
were of a very severe and precise character. But he had a willing and
apt pupil in Joshua; and he delighted Ellen by whispering to her
confidentially that Joshua would make as fine a mariner as could be
found in the service. The examinations generally took place when only
the Old Sailor, Joshua, and Ellen were together; and then Joshua
propounded, to the satisfaction of his teacher, such problems as,
how he would send a top-gallant yard down in a gale of wind; what he
would do if he wanted to shiver his main-topsail yard when the leeches
were taut and the main yard could not be touched: how to turn in a
dead-eye; what he would do if he wanted to tack on a lee shore, and
the ship wouldn't come round, and there was not room to wear; and so
on, and so on. The Old Sailor was not satisfied with simple answers,
but insisted upon the why and the wherefore; so that what with working
and studying and sweethearting, Joshua's time was well taken up. Ellen
herself became quite learned in certain matters concerning Joshua's
profession, and made him laugh heartily by the wise air she assumed
when she repeated the twelve signs of the Zodiac, which she had
learned by heart perfectly, from Aries to Pisces. Joshua, repeating
after her, would purposely leave out Gemini or Aquarius, or another
sign, and would instantly be taken to account. In this simple way many
happy hours were passed. The Old Sailor had a great liking for Captain
Liddle, because he was a thorough sailor, and Captain Liddle admired
the Old Sailor for the simplicity of his character.
"You are in luck's way," said the Old Sailor to Joshua: "you are
sailing under a good master--not a land saint and sea devil--but a
good officer and a kind man; and you have the dearest and the
truest-hearted lass in the world to stand by you through life. Do your
duty, Josh, to her and to your ship."
"I will do my duty to both, sir, you may depend."
The Old Sailor took out his pocket-handkerchief, and thoughtfully
dabbed his face. "I don't doubt that you will, my lad," he said, "and
to Dan as well." Now the Old Sailor uttered these last words with a
significance that seemed intended to convey a deep meaning. His action
was appropriately mysterious. He looked round cautiously, after the
best manner of stage robbers, and hooked Joshua nearer to him by a
motion of his forefinger. "Hark ye, my lad," he whispered, guiding the
words to Joshua's ear by placing his open palm on one side of his
mouth; "Hark ye. Do you suspect any thing?"
Joshua opened his eyes very wide at this; he had not the slightest
consciousness of the Old Sailor's meaning.
"You don't?" continued the Old Sailor in the same mysterious manner.
"So much the better. I didn't suppose you did. Now, supposing--mind, I
only say supposing, my lad--supposing you were asked to do a very
out-of-the-way thing for Dan's sake, but a thing notwithstanding that
you would be very glad to do"--this with a chuckle expressive of
intense enjoyment--"would you do it?"
"Would I do it, sir!" exclaimed Joshua warmly. "I don't think you or
any one could ask me to do a thing for Dan's sake, that I shouldn't be
glad to do."
"Just my opinion," said the Old Sailor, still in the same
charnel-house whisper; "and if Dan's happiness depended upon your
doing this out-of-the-way thing"--
"Why, then, sir, more eagerly and willingly than ever."
"That's plain sailing; it might come to pass, or it mightn't," said
the Old Sailor, returning his handkerchief to its abiding-place in the
bosom of his shirt, to denote that the conversation was at an end.
But this did not satisfy Joshua. "What might come to pass, sir?" he
asked.
The Old Sailor winked craftily at Joshua, and said, "All I've got to
say is, that it might come to pass or it mightn't."
And try as he would, that was all the satisfaction Joshua could obtain
from the Old Sailor.
In the mean time Basil Kindred's condition had become so serious, that
he was unable to leave his room, and he was unreasonably obstinate in
his refusal to see a doctor. He knew well enough what was the matter
with him, he said, and doctors could not relieve him. But one day,
urged by Dan, Minnie brought a doctor to his bedside without
consulting him.
"Your daughter brought me," said the doctor, seeing that Basil was
displeased, and wisely judging that mention of his daughter would calm
him.
Basil called Minnie to him and kissed her. "Go out of the room,
child," he said; "what passes between me and the doctor must be
private."
Minnie obeyed, and went down stairs to sit with Dan, and the doctor
remained with his patient for half an hour. As the doctor came down,
Minnie opened the door of Dan's room, and the doctor entered.
"Well, sir?" asked Dan.
"Your father is suffering from rheumatism and low fever," said the
doctor, addressing Minnie. "I have left a prescription in his room;
run and get it."
Minnie went up stairs, and the doctor said to Dan, "You are very
anxious about Mr. Kindred."
"Yes, sir, very anxious, both for his sake and for Minnie's."
"Minnie--ah! yes, his daughter. Well, I may tell you in confidence
what I must not tell her. He is suffering from something more than
rheumatic fever. He has a disease which may prove fatal at any moment.
A strong mental shock would very likely prove fatal to him. His mind
is far from tranquil at the present time, and it is absolutely
necessary that he should have quiet and repose. Good-morning."
Grieved as Dan was to hear this, it relieved him, for it enabled him
to account for the sudden change in Basil Kindred's manner which had
so perplexed him. It also served to account for a change he had
observed in Minnie. It was not that she was less friendly towards him;
on the contrary, she had on many occasions been more tender to him
than usual. But the frank cordiality of her manner was gone; she was
more reserved, and an engrossed expression, evidently born of painful
thought, had settled upon her face. Dan had watched it with the
sensitive eye of love, wondering what had brought it into her face.
Now he knew the cause: her father's illness brought gloomy forebodings
to her heart and made her anxious. "Does she ever think that I love
her?" thought Dan, "and that I am only waiting for the proper time to
tell her that my life is devoted to her?" He would have spoken that
very day, but a sentiment of true delicacy restrained him. The feeling
that closed his lips upon the subject for the present could not have
existed in any but a chivalrous nature.
When Joshua came home in the evening, Dan told him what the doctor had
said. Joshua was silent for a little while before he spoke. "It is
very singular," he then said, "that what you have told me should make
me easier in my mind. Both Minnie's and Mr. Kindred's manner lately
have given me great pain, filling me with uneasiness, which I have
vainly struggled against. It is made clear to me now."
"Why, that was also my feeling, Jo," exclaimed Dan almost gayly.
"Another proof of the sympathy between us."
"I shall go and see Mr. Kindred. I am ashamed of myself to have
allowed such small feelings to exist. I ought to have made more
allowance for his sufferings." His hand was resting upon Dan's
shoulder. He inclined himself so that he could see the face of his
friend. "And Minnie?" he asked in that attitude. "How is it with you
and her?"
"I am more hopeful than ever, Jo; but it would not be right for me to
speak to her in her trouble."
"That is like you, Dan," said Joshua approvingly. "Ever tender--ever
considerate--ever just. No; you must not speak until Mr. Kindred is
better. You must wait."
Dan nodded assent, and Joshua went up stairs to Basil Kindred's room.
He paused at the door and listened. No sound came from within, and he
received no answer to his knock. He opened the door softly. The room
was in darkness.
"Who is there?" was asked in the abstracted voice of one just aroused
from sleep.
"It is I--Joshua. Shall I get a light?"
"No;" with a sudden fierceness. "What brings you here?"
The want of friendliness in Basil Kindred's voice was very painful to
Joshua, and it was only by a great effort that he was enabled to
maintain his composure. "What is the meaning of this, sir?" he asked,
very gently.
"Of what?"
"Of your changed manner towards me, sir. And not to me only, but to
all of us. Have we done any thing wrong--have _I_ done any thing
wrong? If I have, it has been done unconsciously, and it is but just
that you should not leave me in ignorance of my fault. I came up to
you now, sir, to ask that we should be to each other as we once
were--as we were before I went to sea--as we were on the first day of
our meeting, when you said, 'God bless you, Joshua Marvel.' I have
never forgotten that, sir. I do not speak to you for myself alone; I
speak for all of us, who hold you, I am sure, in the tenderest
respect and regard." Joshua spoke feelingly, and his words had the
effect of softening Mr. Kindred's manner.
"You are right," he said softly and very "it is not just. Sit here by
my side." Joshua sat where he was bidden, and waited for Mr. Kindred
to resume. "Distemper of the mind accompanies distemper of the body,"
continued the sick man "and you must lay some part of my
unfriendliness to that cause. I am sick in body, and therefore
peevish, and therefore, perhaps, unjust. Sick men have sick fancies.
They magnify straws, even as, lying here in the dark, I can by the
power of my will, magnify the shadows that rest within this room and
make them 'palpable to feeling as to sight.' Joshua Marvel, I owe you
much; you saved me and mine from starvation. I am glad that you are
here now, and that you met my fretfulness with patience; for there is
that within my mind, not newly born, but newly risen that I would
gladly not forget again. All the happiness of the last few years I owe
to you, for it was for your sake we were welcomed here."
"The pleasure your society has given to all those dearest to my heart,
sir, is recompense a thousand-fold."
"Those dearest to your heart!" repeated Basil Kindred musingly. "Who
are they?"
"You ought to know, sir," replied Joshua, surprised at the question.
"It is but a whim--a sick man's whim--but tell me: of all those
dearest to your heart, whom would you place first? Do not hesitate to
answer me. We are in the dark, and I cannot see your face."
"In the dark or in the light, before all the world, if it were
necessary, I could name but one, whom you know well."
"Still, to satisfy me name her."
"Ellen, sir. You know that she is to be my wife."
"I have heard so. Take my hand. I wish you the happiness that faithful
love deserves. No worldly happiness can be greater. It makes a heaven
of earth, in whatever sphere of life it comes. And if, as it was with
me, the partner of your faithful love is called away before you, the
remembrance of her goodness and purity will dwell forever in your
heart, like a divine star." His voice had grown so solemn, that Joshua
could only press his hand in reply. Presently Basil Kindred spoke
again. "Your past life should be a guarantee for the future. You have
been faithful in your friendship; you should be faithful in your
love."
"You do not doubt it, sir?"
"I cannot doubt it; your conduct gives doubt the lie. The shadows seem
to be clearing away. I have much to say yet, if you will sit with me a
little while."
"I am glad to do so, and happy to hear you speaking to me again in
your old kind manner."
"It is so hard to reconcile," mused Basil speaking as much to himself
as to Joshua. "From whom can the accusation have come? And the
motive--what can be the motive? Joshua, answer me--have you an enemy?"
"No, sir, not one that I know of."
"Reflect a little. Can you bring to mind any circumstance that
occurred during the years that you have been away to induce you to
suppose that some one is conspiring to do you injury?"
"I am more than surprised at your question, sir; I am grieved that you
should ask it, and apparently with reason. To my knowledge I have not
a bad friend in the world."
"Your surprise is natural," said Basil; "but though you may think my
remarks strange, do not think they are prompted by unkindness. I have
good reasons for what I say. I hold this conversation sacred, Joshua.
As it may be the last we shall ever have, let what is said between us
be said in perfect confidence."
"Agreed as to that, sir; but you must not say that this is the last
conversation we shall ever have."
"When do you go to sea again?" asked Basil Kindred, taking no heed of
Joshua's remonstrance.
"In less than a fortnight. We set sail first for Sydney, New South
Wales, then for China, then for home. A short trip. We shall not be
away long this time."
"Before you return, I shall have gone on a longer voyage than
you are about to take. Nay, do not interrupt me. I have received
warning--bodily, not spiritual, and therefore not open to doubt. It is
impossible that I can live much longer. And with this conviction
strong within me, I am tortured by an anxiety that racks me with a
mightier pain than that which even as I speak pierces me to the
marrow."
Joshua was profoundly shocked at the disclosure; he had not thought it
was so bad as that. Instinctively he knew what the anxiety was by
which Basil was tortured, and Basil answered his thought.
"You guess what my anxiety springs from. What will become of Minnie
when I am gone?"
If he had seen! If in that darkened room a vision had appeared to
answer him, could he have believed that it would come to pass? But
silence was his only answer for a time; for Joshua was revolving in
his mind whether it would be wise and merciful--whether he had any
right to speak to Basil Kindred about Dan's love for Minnie. The
conversation between them was sacred and confidential, and the sick
man's tone when he spoke of the bodily warnings he had received was so
impressive, that it carried conviction with it. It would be like
speaking to a dying man, and it would be serving his friend.
"That is my great anxiety," continued Basil; "were my mind relieved
upon that point, I should fear nothing, for death is my smallest
terror. I suffer deserved misery when I say that even I, her father,
do not know her nature thoroughly, and that I fear to think to what
extent her impulse might carry her. But I know that she needs
guidance, and that she cannot control herself. I have taught her ill,
or rather have not taught her at all. I have been remiss in my
fatherly duty--not intentionally, God knows! But I see it now--I see
it now." Even in the dark he turned his face from Joshua, the more
completely to hide his tribulation. "There is but one duty she can
understand--the duty of love. She knows no higher. She comprehends
that, because it is instinctive. She has her mother's devoted nature,
and would sacrifice herself for the only duty she can comprehend, as
her mother sacrificed herself for me. But she could not be made to
understand that under certain circumstances love may be sinful."
Joshua, following his train of thought, heard Basil's words, but
scarcely understood their sense. Still he said,--
"She loves you, sir."
"Yes, she loves me as a father, and by that love I have unconsciously
controlled her. But that power has gone from me. Our minds are
strangers; they used not to be so. Once she hid nothing from me; now
as I watch her I see in her eyes the attempt to hide her thoughts, and
I cannot express to you my agony in knowing that her heart and mind
are not open to me, as they have hitherto been. If I knew--if I only
knew, I should be satisfied; for then I might protect her. Sometimes I
think that another kind of love has come to her, and has shadowed the
love she bore for me. But for whom? Do you know?"
He asked the question in a singular tone of fierceness and entreaty;
but Joshua was thinking of Dan, and did not reply. Have I the right to
speak? he thought; and an affirmative answer did not come clearly to
his mind.
"You are silent," continued Basil in a quieter tone. "Are you
concealing any thing from me?"
"What should I conceal from you, sir?" asked Joshua in reply, after a
pause.
Basil Kindred sighed, as the words so hesitatingly spoken came from
Joshua's lips.
"Young men are often thoughtless in their actions," he said mildly, as
if wishful to rob the remark of direct significance; "they do not know
the depth and earnestness of some womanly natures. Listen, I will tell
you my story; it may be a lesson and a warning to you."