BARBARA’S VOYAGE.
“Merrily, merrily goes the barque,
On a breeze from the northward free;
So shoots through the morning sky the lark.
Or the swan through the summer sea!
Upon the gale she stoops her side,
And bounds before the swelling tide,
As she were dancing home:
The merry seamen laugh to see
Their gallant ship so lustily
Furrow the green sea foam.”—_Scott._
The Petrel was favored with fine weather until the seventh day out, when
near 30° north latitude she entered the Gulf stream, and faced the trade
winds then blowing from an east and north-easterly direction. The
violence and persistence of this gale kept her back for several days, so
that it was the first of November before she dropped anchor in the
harbor of Havana.
Here Lord Montressor took leave of Miss Brande, cordially shaking hands
with her at parting, and asking and receiving permission to visit the
vessel during her stay in port.
And while Barbara occupied herself with discharging her cargo, Lord
Montressor established himself at the Hotel Macon, and from this quarter
pursued his inquiries for Estelle. He found that the Sea Mew had reached
port about fifteen days previous to the arrival of the Petrel; that she
had discharged her cargo, taken in fresh freight, and about a week since
had sailed for Rio Janeiro. But he could hear of no passengers that she
had brought to Havana; on the contrary, he was assured by several
persons of whom he made the inquiry that she had certainly brought none.
But opposed to this testimony were the facts that he had learned at
Baltimore. Thus with a perplexed, discouraged, but persevering heart he
still pursued the almost hopeless search.
In the progress of his investigations, particularly near the harbor, he
often met with Barbara Brande. No word had ever passed between them upon
the object of his voyage, yet that object was well known to Miss Brande.
She longed for the sister’s privilege of counseling him. Knowing the
utter futility of his search, she felt it to be, in herself, a sort of
treachery to permit him to pursue it. Often when they chanced to meet,
her sympathizing eyes were fixed with a sorrowful, prayful expression
upon his troubled countenance.
Once when he visited her, in the cabin of her own vessel, while both sat
at the little centre-table, she fixed her honest eyes full upon his
care-worn face and said—
“Lord Montressor, give me your confidence.”
He looked up in surprise.
Her open countenance did not blench, nor was her straightforward look
for a moment withdrawn. Indeed there was in her resonant tones,
unflinching regard, and confident manner something of the authority of
the sybil. Lord Montressor really admired the honest, brave, upright and
downright nature of Barbara Brande. And now it was something more than
admiration, it was a sort of deference that he felt for her. But she was
looking straight at him, and was waiting for an answer.
“But why, Miss Brande, should I burden you with my confidences?” he
asked mildly.
“Because I can aid you.”
“You can aid me!”
“Ay, sir; for I know your history. Do not ask me _how_ I know it; for I
cannot tell you without a breach of confidence. But, sir, I know the
object of your pursuit, and know it to be, for the present at least,
utterly futile—as it indeed should be!”
“Miss Brande!”
“Lord Montressor, I have no puerile fear of misconstruction at your
hands—you are not the slave of a conventionalism that may be ‘a good
servant, but a bad master.’ You will not, I am sure, accuse me of
obtrusiveness—and even if you did——”
“And if I did——?”
“I should survive it!” smiled Barbara.
But then growing suddenly serious, she said—
“I told you that I could aid you, sir; but for that power of helping you
I had not spoken!”
“I thank you from the depths of my heart, Miss Brande! And I am sure
that your words will be justified. But—you know my story! You know the
object of my voyage! _do_ you know where Lady Montressor is?”
“Sir, I cannot answer that question without a breach of confidence. What
I can tell you without blame, I will tell you without question. In the
first place, your search here is utterly hopeless! Lady Montressor is
not in Havana. In the second place, where she tarries, she is well, only
wishing for the present to sequester herself from you.”
“For the _present_.”
“_I_ said for the present. Your lordship will please to put yourself for
a moment in this lady’s place, and you will see that as a Christian
woman, she can do no otherwise than she does. Consider, sir, that the
validity of your marriage is _questioned_ and rests for final decision
with the Spiritual Court of Arches.”
“Miss Brande! a higher tribunal than any earthly court has already
adjudged this cause. The claimant of Lady Montressor’s hand is numbered
with the dead.”
“I know it. Yet how forgetful men are! You should remember, sir, that
this claimant was also once, whether rightfully or wrongfully—the
_possessor_ of this lady’s hand. Therefore, my lord, the lady is right,
right, right, and forever right, in having considered that
circumstance—while that claimant lived, a barrier to her second
marriage. And now, Lord Montressor, let me say to you, that all your
hopes for a future union with the Lady Estelle rest upon the decision of
the Court of Arches.”
“In the name of Heaven, _how_—what do you mean?”
“This—should the Court of Arches decide the marriage of Monsieur
L’Orient and Miss Morelle to have been illegal——”
“Well! then?”
“She will never emerge from her obscurity; as a delicate and high-minded
woman she never can. But on the other hand, should the Court of Arches
decide that her childish marriage was legal——”
“Well! then?”
“Then, my lord, you are free to woo the widow, and I—Barbara Brande will
give you the aid I promised!”
“Miss Brande! Is this your ethics? How is it possible that a decision of
the Court of Arches can affect the righteousness of an action already
past, as its record now stands before the higher tribunal of Heaven?”
“It cannot do so, of course. Whatever be the decision of the Court, the
case remains in the sight of God the same. And this, lady Estelle, whose
womanly instincts have never been confused by the sinuosities of law, or
the subtleties of theology, feels that her childish marriage, however
wrong in itself, was binding in its obligations. Those who assail the
legality of that unhappy union, wound her in the tenderest point. And
should the Court of Arches decide against it, they will cast upon her a
reproach that she will never consent, by marrying, to reflect upon any
one she loves!” said Barbara, as a sudden and burning blush, for the
freedom of her speech, swept over her cheek and vindicated the woman’s
under the hero’s nature. For Barbara was as modest and sensitive as she
was frank and brave. She could deeply feel, as well as disregard the
pain of speaking upon this delicate subject.
Lord Montressor admired the rare honesty, courage, and disinterestedness
of her really great nature. He paused a few moments before replying, and
then said—
“You have given me some food for reflection, Miss Brande. I do not know
but that you have been the best exponent of my lady’s motives and
conduct, with whom I have yet met; although I have talked upon this
subject with the Bishop of Exeter, and with the Baron Dazzleright, who
both regarded the affair in an opposite light to that in which you view
it.”
“The reason was, that one was a clergyman, and thought only of the
theological aspect; the other a lawyer, and considered wholly the legal
appearance; while I, a woman, with only the grace of God to throw light
upon my natural instincts, enter heart and soul into all my sister
woman’s feelings.”
“I believe you are right, and, by your showing, Estelle was also very
right in reserving herself from my knowledge and pursuit from the moment
that our marriage festivities were interrupted.”
“Undoubtedly, my lord! Oh, sir! I feel sure that you will yet have cause
to bless Heaven that she _did_ so—that she was _known_ beyond doubt to
have done so.”
“You may be proved to be right—in case that the Bishops’ Bench establish
the legality of the first union. But, Miss Brande, since, as it appears,
you know Estelle, since you have conversed with her, and received her
confidence, you must also be aware that the doubt which rests upon the
legality of her first marriage, is not her only reason for sequestering
herself.”
“I know it; but it is the most important one; let it be removed, and it
rests with your lordship to make her forget or forsake the other. _And
you will do so._”
Lord Montressor smiled. There was something so confident, so animating,
so inspiring in the cheerful faith of this good and brave girl. He
greatly needed more satisfaction in regard to Estelle, but he felt that
he could not in justice or generosity seek intelligence of Barbara, who
had said that to give him more information on the subject would involve
a breach of confidence.
He cordially expressed his gratitude for the friendly interest she had
taken in his cause, and with a promise to repeat his visit, bade her
adieu. He returned to his hotel to reflect upon his future course.
The next day he called up his valet, and said: “Go and search for a
vessel about to sail for England.”
“My lord, the vessel in which we came, the Petrel, is bound for
Liverpool in a few days,” replied the man.
“Ah, is that so? Miss Brande told me nothing of the sort yesterday.
However,” added his lordship mentally, “we were too closely engaged in
talking of another matter.”
“It is true, however, my lord; the Petrel is advertised for Liverpool.”
“Oh, yes! probably Miss Brande took it for granted that I had seen the
notice, and knew all about it. Go down to the docks, then, and secure
berths in the Petrel. Or, stay, remain here, and pack up; I will go down
to the vessel to engage a passage,” said Lord Montressor, who was not
only well pleased to have this excuse for visiting Barbara, but also
delighted with the prospect of returning to England in her vessel in her
company.
A rapid walk brought him to the docks. A little skiff took him alongside
the Petrel, upon the deck of which stood the handsome Amazon, busily
engaged in giving her orders.
The sun on this November day shone down brightly and hotly on the harbor
and the shipping, and fell directly upon the stately form of Barbara, as
she stood bareheaded upon the deck. No sea breeze now lifted her
tresses, but her raven black hair lay rippling and glistening in
purplish lustre under the beams of that tropical sun, that seemed not to
burn, but only to ripen her luscious southern beauty. The rich bloom of
her complexion rivaled that of the ruddiest tropical fruit. And in hue
like the purple glow of grape tendrils, were the tresses of her hair
against those pomegranate cheeks. The broad and massive forehead, the
well-defined black brows, the strong flashing eyes, the straight high
nose, firm though rounded lips, and above all, the erect, elastic
carriage; the fearless, resolute look; and the clear, resonant voice,
gave a character of strength and energy to a style of beauty otherwise
too voluptuous. Her costume evinced her usual disregard to every quality
in dress, except its fitness, and consisted of the customary gray serge
gown and sacque.
She was engaged in giving directions in regard to the stowing of some
freight. On seeing Lord Montressor coming up the starboard gangway, she
advanced with a smile and an extended hand to meet him.
“Good-morning, Lord Montressor. I am _very_ glad to see you.”
“Not so glad as I am to stand before you, I dare be sworn, Miss Brande.”
“Ah! but to have returned so soon you must have had a motive. Now, how
can we serve you, Lord Montressor?”
“You are going to England?”
“Yes, sir; it is the best thing that I can do! I am going to Liverpool
to take a cargo of sugar and molasses and probably to bring back one of
Manchester dry goods. Can I do any thing for you in England?”
“You can take me thither.”
“Ah! you have decided on going home?”
“I have, after mature deliberation, determined to return to England and
await the action of the Spiritual Court, if, indeed, the action has not
been arrested by the intelligence of the death of Monsieur L’Orient.”
“And if it has, you will cause the proper parties to set it going
again?”
“Perhaps,” replied Lord Montressor.
“At all events, I am glad that you have decided on going to watch the
progress of the affair, my lord, and _very_ glad to have the pleasure of
your company on the voyage,” said Barbara, with such cordial sincerity,
that her whole warm countenance glowed with the light of the happiness
she expressed.
“I thank you very earnestly; and, believe me, the satisfaction you
express is much more than reciprocated by myself. I would have waited
some time and foregone many other good things for the pleasure of
sailing with you, Miss Brande,” replied Lord Montressor, heartily,
regarding the handsome creature before him with an honest admiration,
free from the slightest alloy of covetousness. He could appreciate her
noble beauty and unique attractions without the least wish to
appropriate them.
This, Barbara instinctively knew. Hence her frank cordiality of
friendship.
“Good, then! we are both well pleased,” she said, laughing and extending
her hand.
The preliminaries of the passage were then settled, and Lord Montressor
seeing that the girl was excessively busy in superintending the taking
in and stowing away of the freight, bade adieu, and returned to his
hotel. And the third morning from this, being the twentieth of November,
and a fine day, the Petrel, having on board Lord Montressor and his
attendants, set sail for Liverpool.