OUR SAILOR BOY.
If one had peeped into the oak parlour on Thursday evening, one would
naturally have imagined the room to be untenanted, save for the
presence of a little white dog curled in peaceful slumber on the rug;
but had the heavy folds of curtain been withdrawn, they would have
disclosed to view the form of a young lady nestling back in the window
embrasure, with two soft white hands folded wearily on her lap. The
night was cold, but bright with moonlight; and the stars peeping in at
the window, the blind of which was drawn up to the top, whispered
together of the fairy picture she made with the moonbeams straying over
her quiet, thoughtful face, and playing hide-and-seek amongst the
meshes of her dark glossy hair.
"How pretty she looks!" they murmured softly, sparkling down their
twinkling lights on the frost-gemmed city below. But the little stars
failed to notice the weary look of discontent and dissatisfaction on
that fair face, which marred all the beauty of the fairy picture.
She had left the gay drawing-room and fashionable company under plea of
a headache, and finding the oak parlour untenanted, had hidden herself
snugly behind the curtains. But Edith Blake's headache had evidently
merged into a heartache; for it was a weary, weary face that turned
from the window as approaching footsteps warned her of some one's
intrusion. Drawing aside the ruby folds and peering out cautiously,
the girl saw Winnie enter and go straight towards the fire, where she
proceeded to ensconce herself snugly on the rug, and lift the little
white dog into her lap.
"Poor little doggie!" she said, stroking the affectionate animal, which
was licking its mistress's gentle hand; "poor Puck! you'll have to love
me very much after Dick goes away. I like to be loved, doggie; but no
one in this house believes in love except my dear boy, and it is lonely
when not a single creature cares, for you. I should like to enjoy a
good cry, Puck; but I must not make Dick sad, and it is a baby-fashion
to cry when things go wrong and you can't get what you wish. But, oh
dear! whatever shall I do after my dear good boy is gone away?"
"Write long letters and think of him every day," put in a blithe, merry
voice at the door; and Winnie sprang up with a cry of delight as Dick
strode into the room attired in all the splendour of his new uniform.
"How do I look, Win?" he cried, touching his cap, and standing in all
the pride of his young, bright strength, ready to be admired. "Am I
respectable?"
But he need hardly have asked that question, for the little sister's
face was all aglow, and her rosy lips laughing a glad, proud smile.
"Respectable!" (with scorn); "why, Richard, you're simply _splendid_!
And oh! you do look every inch a sailor."
"I thought I would let you see me in full uniform before packing up my
baggage," said Dick, by way of apology for his childish display. "Look
at the brass buttons, Win, and the badge on my cap; they make me feel
as if I were a sailor already."
Winnie duly admired.
"I hope you'll have a good voyage, and not find the work too hard," she
whispered afterwards, and the boy answered.
"Win," he began impressively, "I intend putting my whole 'shoulder to
the wheel.' If I cannot work with the brain, I will strive my very
best with hand and heart, and do my duty come what may. I mean to be a
true man, and live an honest, upright life, not in order to gain every
one's good opinion (though of course I should dearly like that too),
but because it is right."
Winnie's eyes were shining. "I told you so," she said, clapping her
hands joyously. "You'll be a king amongst men yet. And oh, how
proudly our father will some day talk of 'my sailor son!'" The boy's
face flushed with pleasure. "But, Dick, you won't care less for me
when you become both good and great; will you?" and the pretty voice
had a wistful ring in it as Winnie neared the close of her sentence.
"Good! why, you're an angel compared with me, Win," said the boy
lovingly; "but we'll both try our best, dear. I'm a great, rough boor
of a lad, Win, and you're such a dainty, fairy creature. But think how
grand it would be to know that every day you at home and I out on the
ocean were striving to do our duty and live as we ought to live. I've
been all wrong in the past, I know, and it is little wonder the others
don't care much about me; but I mean to strike out afresh and begin all
over again. See here, Winnie; this is my farewell gift to you. I
thought you would prize it more than anything else," and Dick placed a
beautiful pocket Bible in his sister's hands.
Winnie touched the little volume reverently, and the eyes of the
listener behind the curtains grew dim as the child's soft voice
replied, "I cannot thank you as I would, Dick, for your lovely present;
but I love you dearly, dearly. I shall keep it always close beside me,
and read a portion every day. Bow down your head, dear boy, and let me
kiss you for your goodness."
Dick submitted to the caress, and then invited Winnie up to his room in
order to inspect a few presents he had received from some of his
school-fellows; and when brother and sister had disappeared, Edith
stole softly from her place of concealment, and the dancing fire-flames
saw that her eyes were wet with tears.
"I have caught a glimpse of true life to-night," she said, smiling
wistfully; "and it has shown me how hollow, hollow is the false one I
daily lead. Poor Dick! I am afraid we have misjudged him after all,
and may yet find out, as Winnie so confidently prophesies, that he is
worthy of all honour and admiration. As for her, she will learn, so
far as lies in my power, that love is to be found in the house,
although her sailor boy has left the parent nest." Then seating
herself in the cosiest-looking chair, she lay back and waited quietly
for the return of the owners of the oak parlour.
In the course of half-an-hour they re-appeared, and gazed with
wide-open eyes on the fair intruder; but Edith, laughing lazily, bade
them come forward and welcome the unexpected guest.
Winnie sprang to her side. "We are both awfully pleased to see you,
Edith," she said; "only you surprised us so. Whatever brings you here
when there are guests in the drawing-room?"
"I had a headache," replied the elder sister, drawing the little girl
close to her side and beginning to toy with the tangled hair;
"besides"--looking up at the big, stalwart youth standing near--"I
wished to enjoy a little of Dick's society before he goes away."
Dick's face relaxed into a broad grin of unbelief, and Winnie cried out
"Oh!" then caught herself and stopped short; but Edith's equanimity
remained undisturbed.
"It is quite true," she said with a charming smile. "I see you are in
full uniform, Dick. Stand back, and let me admire my sailor brother."
Edith could be very lovable and winning when she liked, and to-night
she seemed thoroughly bent on doing her utmost to please. The boy,
though mystified at this sudden change in his fashionable sister,
obeyed her command, and stood erect before her, feeling perhaps a
little bashful, but never flinching under the steady scrutiny.
"You look very well," she said after a little pause. "Sit down, Dick;
I wish to speak to you. I know perfectly Winnie is wondering why the
cross elder sister is sitting here taking such an interest in you both
to-night. But don't ask an explanation for such conduct; only believe
that her heart is not so hard as you deem it, and that she has begun to
look under the surface for some one's true character."
Winnie gave the speaker's hand a little squeeze of approbation, while a
pleased smile lit up Dick's face. As neither spoke, however, Edith
continued: "And now, may I crave of you, Dick, a very great favour?
Winnie is to be driven down to-morrow afternoon to see through your
ship. May I come too? or is she to be the only privileged young lady?"
The boy looked incredulously at his pretty sister. "Are you really in
earnest, Edith?" he inquired, "or are you laughing at me?"
"I mean what I say, Dick," was the grave reply; "but if you would
rather I remained at home, I shall not trouble you."
"Oh, come! do come!" whispered Winnie delightedly. "Dick will be only
too pleased;--will you not, dear old boy?" So it was settled; and
Edith rose to leave the cosy room, which seemed to her at that moment
like a haven of rest.
"It was very, very good of you to come and spend a wee quiet time with
us," said Winnie, as she watched her beautiful sister shaking out her
crumpled skirts and pushing back little stray locks of hair from her
white forehead. "Do you know we are going to have a great treat
to-morrow night? Archie Trollope is coming in; and cook has promised
us a delicious supper in honour of Dick's last evening at home."
"I think you ought to give me an invitation," replied Edith, pausing at
the doorway. "I should like to enjoy the feast too.--No, no," as Dick
and Winnie exchanged doubtful glances; "I was only teasing you both.
Accept my best wishes for a happy evening, dears. Good-night;" and
then the soft silken figure glided quietly away.
"I'm glad she really did not mean what she said," announced Dick,
giving a sigh of relief as he threw himself down on the rug beside Puck
and commenced to tease that worthy little animal; "but I think, Win, if
we had pressed her she would have come."
"I am sure of it," replied Winnie. "She looked so disappointed when we
did not speak. But, Dick, was she not ever so nice to-night? and is
she not beautiful?"
"Yes," replied her brother, pulling Puck's tail mischievously; "but
we're a good-looking family, Win, with the exception of myself."
The little girl's reply was thoroughly characteristic: "Every house has
its ugly duckling, dear boy," she observed quaintly, "and they seldom
turn out swans except in story-books. However, it does not matter very
much about a man's personal appearance; and you--why, you might have
been a great deal worse."
Dick roared at the attempted consolation. "What a Job's comforter you
are, Win!" he said with a broad grin; "but as you say, little sister, a
man's personal appearance, though it sometimes goes a long way, is not
the main thing, and I reckon Dick Blake will manage through the world
well enough in spite of freckled skin and fiery hair."
"Of course he will," replied Winnie; "there's no doubt about that."
Then the two began to talk seriously and lovingly their own
heart-thoughts, and the minutes passed all too rapidly. Both started
when the clock struck the hour for retiring, and there was a little
quiver in Winnie's voice as she wished her brother good-night, and
thought that only another evening, then the kind face bending over her
would be looking out on the wide waste of waters, and she would have to
whisper her loving good-nights to the stars instead. "Oh, my dear, my
dear," she sobbed to herself in the darkness, "how sorely, sorely I
shall miss you! But I am so glad there is a great, good Father in
heaven who will guide and keep you wherever you are. Oh! if Aunt
Judith were only here to say something comforting to me--something that
would ease this ache of sorrow at my heart and help me to feel strong
and brave."
Then, as she lay weeping out her loneliness in the quiet night, some
words she had read in one of Aunt Judith's books stole softly into her
mind, like a ray of golden sunlight penetrating through the chinks of a
darkened room: "Whatever is grieving you, however burdensome or trivial
the trouble may be, tell it to Jesus."
Winnie's eyes flashed, and springing out of bed with sudden
determination she knelt down, a little, fragile figure, by the window
ledge, and prayed reverently and trustingly her first heart-prayer. It
was a very simple petition, uttered in Winnie's own quaint style, at
the language of which some people might have smiled; but I think that
in heaven there would be a great hush amongst the white-robed throng as
they bent their heads to catch the first breathings of a child's soul
upwards. And oh, the bursts of hallelujahs as the trusting words
floated to the throne of grace, and told of a young heart groping in
the darkness for the strong, firm clasp of a Father's hand!
Next afternoon, when the carriage drove round to the door as appointed,
the little girl, running downstairs warmly muffled up, found Edith
wrapped in soft velvets and furs, thoroughly equipped for the drive.
There was the faintest suspicion of a smile wreathing the corners of
her lips as she stood tapping impatiently the tesselated floor of the
hall with her tiny high-heeled boot, and running the gauntlet of a few
teasing remarks from her two brothers, who were loitering near; but on
Winnie's approach she turned round, and waving a careless farewell,
accompanied her little sister down the broad stone steps to the
carriage, where Mr. Blake was awaiting them.
The drive proved to be a pleasant one, and in a short time they found
themselves at the docks, and saw the great ships ranging far and near,
with their tapering masts pointing upwards to the cloudy sky. The
_Maid of Astolat_ lay close at hand, and as they went on board Dick
appeared, his face black and grimy, but all aglow with a welcoming
smile.
"You come along with me," he said, drawing Winnie aside, as the
captain, a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, stepped forward and addressed
Mr. Blake. "I'll do the honours of the ship tip-top, Win, and show you
all round in first-rate style;" and the little sister delivered herself
over to his guidance.
How they peered about, to be sure--here, there, everywhere; and how
proudly Dick aired the small amount of nautical language he had managed
to pick up! Rough men turned and smiled half unconsciously as the two
blithe figures flitted past and their merry laughter rang out in the
frosty air. They seemed so happy, and the hearts hardened by sin and
adversity sighed over their bygone childhood's days, and thought what a
blessed thing it was to be young.
Returning from their exploration, brother and sister found Mr. Blake
and Edith still talking to the captain, whose grave, stern face was
rapidly relaxing under the influence of that young lady's winning
manner and bright, sparkling conversation. Dick eyed the group as he
drew near, and then a comical thought seemed to strike him, for he was
heard to mutter, "Jemima! what a lark!" and he twitched his face into a
decided grimace of amusement.
There was scant time in which to make remarks, however, for Mr. Blake
required to be back in the city at a certain hour, and Winnie must not
be exposed to the night air. So good-byes were courteously exchanged.
The Blakes, re-entering their carriage, drove rapidly away, and soon
the high, tapering masts appeared like specks in the distance.
Next day the _Maid of Astolat_ sailed from the harbour, bearing on
board the strong, stalwart figure and honest, true face of Richard
Blake.