BRITOMARTE’S PLAN.
“But what then will you do, my child? I am an humble minister of God,
even in his beneficent aspect of Father to the fatherless. As such I
invite your confidence; trust in me.”
These words were spoken by the old Lutheran clergyman to the beautiful
man-hater, as he bent kindly over her, holding her hand, on the morning
after their departure from the Rainbows.
They were on board the _Leviathan_ and within a few miles of Washington.
He had been urging upon her the oft-repeated, oft-rejected invitation to
make his house her home. For the last time she gratefully declined the
offered hospitality.
“But what then will you do, my child?” he resumed, seeing that she
remained silent and thoughtful. “Your old grandaunt has most unnaturally
renounced you; nor indeed, if she had not, would Witch Elms be a
desirable home for you. The people that Miss Pole retains around her,
and the rumors that are afloat about the place, make it particularly
objectionable as a residence for a young girl”
“I will become a missionary,” answered Britomarte, stoutly, and neither
prayers or commands could move her from this resolve.
The Board of Foreign Missions were in want of teachers to join a company
of missionaries whom they were about to send out to Farther India, and
she had made up her mind to offer her services.
Britomarte, after leaving Dr. Rosenthal, went down into the cabin to put
up her effects, to be ready for landing.
Erminie was already there, engaged in making similar preparations; but
as soon as she saw Britomarte she threw herself into her friend’s arms
and burst into a passion of tears. The prospect of separation from her
queen was almost insupportable to the minister’s gentle child.
“If it were only in pity for me, Britty, you might not leave me! I have
no mother, nor sister, nor any one in the world but you! In mercy to me
you might come with me!”
“My darling—no one? Why, you have your father, your brother, and your
lover,” said Miss Conyers, gently caressing her.
“Oh! I mean no woman! It is so sad for a girl to have no woman friend. I
feel it so. And yet it is not for myself either that I grieve, but for
you who have neither father, brother, nor lover, as I have!”
“No, thank Heaven!” exclaimed the man-hater, fervently; and then, with a
softened manner, she added: “But about your lover, my darling, since you
are afflicted with such a nuisance—tell me, before we part.”
“Yes, I wished to do so. I have no secrets from you, dear Britomarte.
Well, then—we—we are engaged,” murmured Erminie, with hesitation and
blushes.
“You and—Colonel Eastworth,” muttered Britomarte, slowly and in dismay.
“Erminie, darling, it is customary to congratulate a friend on these
occasions; but I—I cannot do it.”
“Oh, Britomarte! you will surely wish me joy!”
“With all my heart and soul, I pray you may have lifelong happiness, my
dearest one!” said Miss Conyers, with a quivering voice.
“My dears, my dears, are you ready to go on shore?” called Dr. Rosenthal
from the head of the cabin stairs.
“Yes, papa dear!—Oh, dear Britomarte, think again! come home with me!”
pleaded Erminie.
“No, my darling! We must part here. Give me your parting kiss in this
cabin, not on deck before all the men,” said Miss Conyers.
Erminie threw herself into the arms of Britomarte, and clung long and
wildly to her bosom, until a second and a third summons from Dr.
Rosenthal compelled her to let go her hold.
Then the two friends went up the stairs together.
The three gentlemen were waiting to escort them on shore.
Dr. Rosenthal placed his daughter in the carriage that was waiting for
her; but when he would have led Britomarte to the same place, she
courteously thanked him, and said that her way lay in another direction,
and that she would go on foot.
Justin came forward and said:
“You will let me see you safe to the place where you are going?”
“No, thank you,” she replied.
Justin argued, pleaded, insisted, but all to no purpose. And at last she
said:
“Mr. Rosenthal, since you compel me to say it, your attendance would be
an intrusion.”
“Then I have nothing more to urge, Miss Conyers. We will meet again.”
“‘At Philippi,’ ghost of Cæsar? Good-by, Mr. Rosenthal,” laughed
Britomarte, waving her hand.
Justin bowed and left her, to enter the carriage where his party were
waiting.
And Britomarte watched the carriage drive off and roll out of sight, and
then she drew her black veil before her face, and walked on her way
alone.