"Captain,"--exclaimed a tall, slight young man, as he ascended the cabin
steps of a noble vessel, and, having gained the deck, stood gazing on
the expansive Atlantic stretched out before him,--"Captain," he eagerly
inquired, "this surely is not our destination," pointing at the same
time with his finger to a rude outline of land, now distinctly visible.
"No, indeed," said the Captain, good humoredly; "it would be but a poor
compliment to the stately city of B----, to take this rude coast, with
its sandy beaches, its rocky eminences, and fishermen's huts, for its
handsome dimensions. Nevertheless, poor as this little fishing
settlement looks, it is a very welcome sight just now, I assure you, as
our provisions are getting scarce, and as to the water, my cook tells me
he should have hardly enough to fill a tea-kettle for to-morrow's
breakfast."
"And so you intend putting in here for supplies?"
"Precisely so, though I see by your look you deem it not a very
probable place to obtain them. But this is not the first time I have
been obliged to put in here, and have always found a hearty welcome, and
obtained necessary supplies; not, perhaps, the very best of provisions,
but such as the place can afford; and I am well acquainted with one of
the fishermen, an emigrant from my native place, whose hospitality, and
that of his family, is unbounded; and whenever I happen to tarry here,
they do all in their power to make us comfortable."
"And how long do you expect to remain?" inquired Mr. Clifford.
"For a few days only, but long enough I trust to recover these two
sailors of mine, who have been complaining so much of late; and my
wife's health also is not as good as usual, accustomed though she has
been to long sea-voyages. You, too, Sir, I think," said the Captain,
"will be all the better for a taste of the land breeze, even though it
should not be laden with the balmy breath of flowers."
"You are quite right, Captain," was the reply; "and anxious as I am to
see my home again, after five long years' absence, I shall be none the
worse for a ramble on =terra firma= once more."
In a few hours subsequent to the conversation recorded above, a fine
boat might be seen rapidly cutting the sparkling waves, and the little
party, consisting of the Captain and his wife, with their only
passenger, Mr. Clifford, soon landed on the sandy beach, and gladly
directed their steps towards Mr. Williamson's cottage.
Captain Pierce pointed out the residence to Mr. Clifford, for though it
was at some distance from their landing place, it could be distinctly
seen, owing to the elevation of the ground on which it was built.
"You had better go on, Sir," said the Captain, "and, if you have no
objection, inform them you are a passenger of the barge '=Pearl=.' That
will be sufficient, I know, to insure you a hearty welcome, and you can
add, if you choose, that we are behind; for my wife and myself are but
indifferent walkers, being more accustomed to patrolling the deck of a
vessel than climbing these steep hills, so that if you try to conform
your pace to ours, you will be quite weary when you reach the dwelling."
Mr. Clifford laughingly replied, and hastening his steps, soon came in
sight of the cottage.
It was near the end of April, and the day a balmy one, even for smiling
June.
At the open window of the sitting-room, which commanded a view of the
road and harbor, Agnes was seated busily engaged in embroidering the
muslin dress intended for Ellen's wedding attire. The sound of steps
near at hand arrested her attention, and looking up, she beheld a
stranger, with wonder and admiration depicted on his countenance,
standing and gazing fixedly at her. For a moment her heart seemed to
cease its pulsations, and a death-like pallor overspread her cheeks, for
so strikingly did the form and face resemble Arthur Bernard, that, in
spite of the improbability of the case, Agnes almost believed it to be
him.
Ernest, on his part, was equally surprised at seeing, in a fisherman's
dwelling, one whose elegant appearance formed such a striking contrast
to the unpretending and rudely fashioned abode in which she dwelt.
The small purse of gold, which Agnes had thoughtfully secured about her
person on the night that witnessed the conflagration of the ill-fated
steamer, had enabled her to purchase from Mrs. Williamson some plain
materials, which had been fashioned, by her own skilful fingers, into
neat and becoming attire. Her nicely-fitting brown stuff dress, relieved
by a linen collar of snowy whiteness, displayed to advantage her
graceful figure; her soft brown tresses were smoothly parted from her
fair forehead; and her fine intelligent countenance, on whose every
lineament refinement and sensibility were stamped, wore an expression of
sweet and touching resignation, and hope "subdued but cherished still;"
what marvel, then, that Ernest Clifford's steps were arrested, when he
beheld so lovely an apparition, and that he gazed upon her as though he
expected that the fair vision would soon vanish from his view. He had
watched her for a few moments unobserved, but when their glances met, he
marked, with increasing astonishment, her evident emotion, and pleased,
yet strangely puzzled, he could not find courage to seek admittance at
the cottage, but, retracing his steps, resolved to wait for an
introduction from the Captain.
It was with a good deal of surprise that the Captain and his wife beheld
Ernest advancing towards them.
"Was no one within," he inquired, "that you have come back so soon?"
"Really, Captain," was the reply, "I could not summon courage to knock
at the door and ascertain."
"Courage!" echoed the Captain, wondering as he marked the young man's
heightened color and evident embarrassment,--"courage to knock at a poor
fisherman's dwelling! Really, Mr. Clifford, your sojourn among these
barbarians must have been productive of no little injury to you, if it
has robbed you of that courage with which I am sure, from your
appearance, Nature plentifully endowed you."
"You misunderstand me, my dear Sir, I assure you," was the reply. "I
feared intruding, and thought I would prefer waiting for an introduction
from you."
The Captain could contain himself no longer, but burst into a hearty
fit of laughter, in which he was joined by his wife.
"You must excuse me, Mr. Clifford," he said, apologizing; "but, really,
the idea of your formality amused me no little; for, however acceptable
such would prove to the society with which you have been accustomed to
mingle, I am afraid such ceremonious politeness would be hardly popular
here."
"But, really, Captain,"--and Mr. Clifford looked, it must be confessed,
a little vexed,--"you should have informed me who I was going to meet,
before sending me on as herald. I was not aware that I should be thrown
into the society of ladies, or I should have endeavored to appear to a
little better advantage. As it is, I am hardly fit to be seen; and while
I am aware that your good lady excuses me, knowing the circumstances
under which I took shelter with you, yet, to strangers I would appear
rather ludicrous, clad in those ill-fitting garments."
"They are not the most elegant in the world, I acknowledge," was the
response; "but much better than the fishermen's wives and daughters are
accustomed to see, for those are the only =ladies= that inhabit these
sterile regions."
"It surely could not have been a fisherman's daughter that I beheld just
now, as I neared the dwelling to which you directed me; for, seated at
the window, sewing, was a young lady, neatly though plainly dressed;
but her look and manner bespoke her to be far above such a condition of
life."
The Captain looked puzzled, and turning to his wife, said, "It must, be
Ellen Williamson, to whom Mr. Clifford alludes. She is not ill-favored,
by any means, and indeed quite the belle of the place, being by far the
best looking girl in it; nevertheless, I should hardly mistake her for
one of higher rank; but Mr. Clifford has been so long without beholding
woman's face divine, with the exception of yours, my dear, that he is
ready to magnify good looks into positive beauty and grace."
The young man seemed disconcerted.
"I could almost stake my existence, that the person to whom I refer is
not, cannot be the daughter of a fisherman. However, if it should be so,
Captain, and such a region as this can produce so lovely a being, in
spite of its barren wastes and rocky steppes, I should be ready to
surname it Paradise, or The Enchanted Isle, if you will; for certainly
it was a vision of enchantment I just now beheld."
Captain Pierce, though almost imagining that his young friend's
intellect had been deranged, gaily responded:--
"I must warn you in time, I see, for you are in danger of losing your
heart, if it is not gone already. Ellen Williamson is engaged to a
worthy young man, a captain of a fishing schooner, and their marriage
is to be celebrated this spring, so her father informed me when I was
here last year, and I think it only my duty to give you fair warning,
that another claims your enchantress as his own. But here we are at the
cottage, and your doubts will speedily be put to flight, by an
introduction to the girl herself."
The loud knock of the Captain, at the cottage door, was quickly answered
by Mrs. Williamson, who, in terms of genuine pleasure, welcomed his safe
return, and the little party were ushered into the sitting-room, whose
neat and even tasteful appearance, formed a striking contrast to the
generality of the fishermen's huts.
Mr. Clifford's quick eye, as they entered, sought the window, but the
seat was vacant now; evidences of its having been lately occupied were
discernible in a work-basket that stood on a table near, and on which
some embroidered muslin had been lightly thrown.
The Captain smiled as he observed Mr. Clifford's disappointed look, and
turning to Mrs. Williamson, who was assisting his wife in divesting
herself of her shawl and bonnet, inquired after her daughter.
"She is quite well, thank you," was her reply, "and was here a moment
ago, but observing you in the distance, ran to inform her father; who is
working beyond the hill at the back of the dwelling. She will be back
shortly."
A slight sigh escaped from Mr. Clifford, unheard by all save his friend,
who turned to him with a mischievous smile, which the former easily
interpreted as, "I wonder which was right, you or I?"
In the meanwhile, Mrs. Williamson was entreating Mrs. Pierce to take
some rest, "for indeed you look much in need of it," she added, "and I
will have a cup of strong tea ready for you in a few moments, for you
need something to refresh you, I am sure, after being so long on the
salt water."
Her husband seconded Mrs. Williamson's advice.
"You had better go, my dear, and lay down for a little while, and you
will feel vastly better, I assure you. As for me, I must now go back to
the ship, but will return in time to join you in a good cup of tea,
which, from past experience, I know will be excellent,--and I suppose I
shall then see Mr. Williamson and daughter."
"Oh, yes, Sir," was the reply. "They should have been back before this;
but I expect husband was farther off than Ellen imagined, and seeking
for him has detained her."
Gaily waving an adieu, the Captain hurried away, and Mrs. Pierce
following the fisherman's wife into her chamber, Ernest Clifford was
left alone. He seated himself at the open casement in a listless
attitude; for though he would hardly acknowledge it to himself, he could
not help a feeling of disappointment in finding his air castle so
quickly shattered.
The only object of attraction to be seen from the casement was a fine
view of the sea; but Ernest had been too long a sojourner on the wild
waste of waters, not to have become weary of their monotony, and tired
of gazing at what had been so long a familiar object, he turned his
attention to the interior of the room. As he glanced round the
apartment, he could not help admiring the spotless neatness which marked
it, for everything was in the most perfect order, while the few
ornaments and some pretty shells, that the fisherman and Ellen's
betrothed had brought on their return from different voyages, were
tastefully arranged on the mantel-piece and tables, with several books,
which, from the pencilled passages he observed as he opened them, had
evidently been well conned. In one, a small volume of miscellaneous
poems, Ellen's name was inscribed on the fly-leaf, in a graceful Italian
hand, evidently a lady's writing.
"This fisherman's daughter must certainly be a very superior person," he
said to himself, as he turned over page after page, observing with the
eye of a critic,--for literature to him had been a familiar study from
early youth,--that the finest passages were the only ones marked,
proving, conclusively, that they had been the reader's favorites.
"Strange to find one like her in so remote and desolate a spot," and,
half-aloud, he read the stanzas, in which he had just opened, smiling as
he thought how true they were in this instance.
"Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
He was interrupted by the clear, sweet tones of a woman's voice in an
adjoining room.
"You will find my chamber quite comfortable, Mrs. Pierce, and I must
insist on your sharing it, for there is abundance of room for us both."
"But I am afraid of discommoding you, my dear young lady, and can easily
sleep on board, though I will take advantage of your kindness now, to
rest on your bed for a short time."
"Indeed, my, dear Madam, I assure you, that you will be conferring a
favor instead of receiving one, in sharing my apartment, while you
remain, for it is such a delight to me to see the face of a countrywoman
in this, the land of my exile."
"How long did Mrs. Williamson say it was since you were conveyed here?"
inquired Mrs. Pierce.
"Nearly six months."
"And what a dreary time you must have found it, my dear."
"No," said the sweet voice again, that sounded like music to the ear of
the unintentional listener; "No," she repeated, "I have felt tolerably
contented with my lot, and but for the remembrance of my friends and the
sorrow they must have endured on my account, thinking, as they certainly
must, that a watery grave has been my portion,--but for such
remembrances I should have been comparatively happy. But you will never
sleep," she added playfully, "if I go on chattering in this manner, so I
will leave you to your much needed repose."
At this moment, the outer door of the cottage opened, and the Captain,
accompanied by Mr. Williamson and his daughter, whom he had met as he
was returning from the ship, entered the room, and a mutual introduction
to Mr. Clifford took place.
The Captain, as he named "Ellen Williamson," looked roguishly at Mr.
Clifford, who returned his glance with an equally amused smile, but one
that the Captain could not comprehend. Not sorry to find he was in the
right, and with a little mischievous pleasure, as he imagined his
friend's discomfiture, when the fair stranger,--for such from her
conversation she evidently was,--should make her appearance, Ernest's
eyes were riveted at the door, which communicated with an inner
apartment, and at length his patient watching was rewarded.
The fisherman's wife, overhearing the Captain's somewhat loud though
cheerful voice, hastened to meet him again, accompanied by Agnes, who
was anxious to resume the employment which astonishment and emotion had
caused her to throw aside. Besides, it must be confessed, she felt in no
way averse to see again the stranger, whose striking similarity to her
friend, had so deeply overcome her. From Mrs. Pierce she had already
learned his name, and also a sketch of his history, from the period of
her first acquaintance with him, and thrillingly interesting as it was,
Agnes could not help feeling attracted towards one who had suffered so
much, and who, like herself, had been an unwilling exile from his native
land.
Captain Pierce, who was sitting with his face turned from the door, and
who, moreover, was engaged in relating to Mr. Williamson the particulars
of his voyage, did not, at first, observe the new comer; but as she
advanced nearer, he abruptly paused in the conversation, and with a
glance--as full of astonishment and perplexity as Ernest, who was now an
amused spectator, could desire--intently regarded her.
"I see you wonder, Captain, how this young lady, whose name is Miss
Wiltshire," said Mrs. Williamson, "took up her residence in this out of
the way place; but Elliot, on his return voyage from H---- in November,
happened, fortunately, to rescue her from the waves, into which she was
thrown by the upsetting of a boat, and having brought her here, she has
remained ever since in this dreary place, at least it must be such to
her, for she has had no opportunity of returning to her friends."
With her customary grace, Agnes returned the Captain's and Mr.
Clifford's respectful greeting, and resumed again her embroidery,
disclaiming, however, as she did so, the epithet of dreary, as being
quite inappropriate, in her estimation, to the place which had afforded
her so hospitable a shelter.
"It would be impossible for me to find any spot dreary," she said,
"inhabited by so many kind friends, and from whom I have received such
true tokens of hospitality; and while I confess to an eager desire to
behold again my relatives, it will not be without very great pain that I
shall part from those whose warmest sympathies and tenderest care were
exercised towards a helpless stranger."
"I have heard," said Mr. Pierce, turning to Mrs. Williamson, whose
countenance told the emotion she felt at the intimation of Agnes's
speedy departure, "I have heard of =some= entertaining 'angels
unawares,' and I should judge you have been thus fortunate, Mrs. W."
"You may, indeed, say so, Sir," said the good woman, wiping away a tear
with the corner of her apron; "I cannot tell you what a blessing this
young lady has been, not only to my family, but to the whole
neighborhood. Indeed, Sir, you would be surprised to see what a change
has been effected by her in this place. Miss Wiltshire has established a
day school for the children, and a night class for the young people; and
our Sabbaths, that some spent in sleep, others in doing nothing, or
worse than nothing, now pass in a very different manner, for we have
both Church and Sabbath school, and 'come up with those that keep holy
day.' What we shall do without her, I cannot imagine, though, to be
sure, it would be dreadfully selfish in me to wish her to stay longer,
for those to whom she belongs must be breaking their hearts after so
lovely a creature."
The above conversation, which was addressed particularly to the Captain,
was delivered in an under-tone, and was therefore unheard by Agnes, who
was an attentive listener to Mr. Clifford, as he called up all the
varied powers of his fine intellect for the purpose of describing the
scenes through which he had passed; and he was well rewarded for his
efforts by the sweet smile, and breathless interest, with which Agnes
heard the narration.