THE BOAT-HOUSE.
Down upon the shore, so built as to form a picturesque feature in the
landscape, stood an old boat-house, in which Ben Benson made his home
when out of active service at the Mansion. Here the stout old seaman
kept his fishing-tackle, his rifle, and a thousand miscellaneous things
that appertained to his various avocations, for Ben was not only a
naturalist and philosopher at large, but a mechanic of no ordinary
skill. He not only devised his own fishing-flies, wove his own
shad-nets, and game-baskets, but performed the duties of a
ship-carpenter whenever his boats got out of order, or a new one was
wanted for the river.
On the day of Lina's great sorrow, Ben was standing in front of the
boat-house, superintending a kettle of pitch that was boiling over a
fire of dried logs and bark. The boat which had been almost torn to
pieces on the night when Mabel Harrington so narrowly escaped a terrible
death, was now turned upside down, and Ben was preparing to calk the
bottom and repair the injuries it had received.
Lina saw him as she came down the avenue, and her pace quickened. The
thin shawl she had flung about her was fluttering in the wind, but there
was a fever in heart and brain, which rendered her insensible to the
blast which swept the curls back from her burning forehead, and rustled
through her light garments. The little Italian grey-hound, which had
been for months her special pet, had followed her, unperceived, striving
in vain to win some sign of attention from the distracted girl.
Lina flew down the bank, and Ben looked up as the sound of her footsteps
warned him who it was that approached.
"I knowed that it was you, Miss Lina," he said, while every feature in
his rough face softened, as he looked toward her. "Sakes alive! what
brought ye out here such a day as this--this wind is enough to snap you
right in two."
"I don't mind the cold, Ben; I wanted to talk to you."
"Wal, if there's any one thing Ben Benson kin do for you, you've only
jest to mention it, and consider it done a'ready."
"I know it, Ben, and that is why I come. I wanted to ask you something."
"Why, you're shakin' worse nor a poplar leaf, and you're as white as if
you hadn't a drop of blood in your precious little body. What on arth's
the matter with you, Lina? See that ere dog; now, ain't he a pretty
specimen of an animal exotic to be out of a hot house in such a wind as
this."
Ben gathered the shivering little creature to his bosom with one hand,
snugly enveloping him in the capacious folds of his pilot jacket, while
with the other he seized Lina's hands, and leaning back against the
boat, stood looking at her with a half-pitying, half-affectionate
glance, that was indescribably comic and touching.
"I should like to know what Mister Ralph was a-thinkin' on, to let you
come out alone sich a day as this."
That name made Lina shudder, and a sudden spasm contracted her features.
"No one knew that I was coming out. Oh, Ben! I want to ask something--do
not refuse to tell me, or I shall die! How came I here--where was I
born--oh, who am I, Ben?"
"Sakes alive! How she goes on! One question at a time, if _you_ please,
Miss Lina! What on arth's been putting sich ideas into your little head?
Now no circumwenting--speak the truth, if you be a woman."
"Oh, Ben, I have always wondered and longed to know something about
myself, and of late, this desire has increased. I can think of nothing
else. Do not put me off--I shall die if I am kept longer in this
suspense."
Ben began to hug the pretty dog more and more tenderly to his bosom, as
if it was that which needed comforting, and not the poor girl before
him. At last, turning himself uneasily about, like a man disturbed by a
sudden recurrence of painful memories.
"Now, don't go to gettin' oneasy idees into your little head; there's
nothin' wuss for the femenine constitution. When you're well enough, let
yerself alone, and be satisfied."
"Oh, Ben, don't--don't! You are my friend--you have always been kind to
me; do not turn from me, now, when I am tortured by these strange
doubts. There is no one else of whom I can ask an explanation, and you
cannot refuse it! I am so very, very, unhappy, Ben--dear, good Ben!"
"There, there, Miss Lina!" Ben muttered, hoarsely, patting her hand with
his hard palm; then, clasping it again in his huge fingers, and looking
at it earnestly, as if it had been a delicately wrought sea-shell.
"Don't say no more--now don't--when Ben Benson gives advice, 'taint
without a reason. Now, you just listen to me, and then run away, and
don't get no more tantrums in that little head o' yours. Hain't the
madam, Mrs. Harrington, always been like a mother to you--hain't she
treated you as if you had been her own flesh and blood--do you want to
make her unhappy now, little gal, do you worry her about such things?"
"You know I would rather die, Ben!"
"I do believe you would, Miss Lina, I raly do! But there ain't no
question about dyin'--you've only to be patient and good, as is nat'ral
to you--take things as they come, and that's enough. I ain't a goin' to
have you ask me no questions, and I know you won't do it."
"But, Ben."
"Hush!" said Ben, pressing her hands hard between his broad palms, and
dropping them tenderly downward. "I can't listen to another word of this
'ere. It ain't of no use," and with a gesture of stubborn sorrow, Ben
walked deliberately into his domain, and closing the door, bolted it
against Lina, leaving her shivering in the cold.
Lina looked ruefully at the closed door, and her heart sunk as she heard
the heavy bolt drawn within. The last faint hope died out then; and,
without a word, she turned and walked away into the woods, desolate
beyond comparison with any former moment of her life. The wind grew
sharp, and whistled through the light indoor garments with which she had
recklessly come forth; her lips turned purple with cold; her hands were
so numb, that they fell apart as she attempted to clasp them; the tears
rushed warm from her eyes, and dropped away, frozen, like hail: and yet
poor Lina struggled on, thinking the cold only another pang of anguish,
which it was her duty to bear.