house about an hour before to take her afternoon nap. Now we heard her
voice from the floor above us. "Hilliard! Hilliard, my son!" she called;
there was something in her voice--a sort of tenderness--that I had never
noticed before. "Come here to me; come!"
And he went, without a glance at me, lifting his feet heavily from step
to step, with drooping head and a shamed, miserable expression on his
pale face.
In about an hour's time the storm was all over, and that afternoon we
had a gorgeous sunset; but Mr. Erveng and I were the only ones who sat
on the piazza to enjoy it. Neither Mrs. Erveng nor Hilliard appeared
again that day. Mr. Erveng took me for a walk along the beach, and did
his best to entertain me: but I had a feeling that I was in the
way--that he would rather have been upstairs with his wife and son,
or that perhaps if I had not been there they would have come down.
I thought of them all at home,--Phil and Fee with their fun and merry
speeches, and Jack, and the little ones, and Nora; there is always
something or other going on, and I would have given almost anything to
be back once more among them. I was so unhappy this afternoon that I
actually deliberated whether I had the courage to do something
desperate,--make faces at Mr. Erveng, or race upstairs and interview
Mrs. Erveng, or call Hilliard names out loud,--_anything_, so that
they would send me home.
But after a while I concluded I wouldn't try any of these desperate
remedies; not that I minded what they'd say at home (teasing, I mean),
but papa would want to know the whole affair,--he has got to think a
good deal of Mr. Erveng,--and besides, somehow, though she's so gentle
and refined, Mrs. Erveng isn't at all the sort of person that one could
do those things to. So I said nothing, though I thought a great deal;
and I went to bed before nine o'clock thoroughly disgusted with the
Ervengs.
Hilliard was at breakfast the next morning, just as stiff and prim and
proper as ever,--it almost seemed as if what had happened in the storm
must be a dream. But later on, when we were on the piazza, he spoke of
it to me.
"I feel that I should explain to you that I have a nervous dread of
a thunder storm," he said, in that proper, grown-up way in which he
speaks, but getting very red. "It completely upsets me at the time;
I am afraid you think me a coward--" He broke off abruptly.
"If it is nervousness, why don't you do something for it?--go to a
physician and get cured?" I answered shortly; it seemed to me so
silly--"so girlie," as Jack says--to try to turn his behaviour off
on _nervousness_.
"I _am_ under a physician's care," he said eagerly; "and he says if
I could only once--"
But just then the carriage that had taken Mr. Erveng to the train drove
up to the door, and with an exclamation of pleasure Hilliard started
forward to meet the lady and young girl who were getting out of it.
They were Mrs. Endicott and her daughter Alice, relatives of the
Ervengs, and they had come to stay with them while some repairs were
being made to their own house, which was farther along the beach.
It was _such_ a relief to see a girl again; and she turned out to be
just as nice as she could be. She and Hilliard are cousins, but she
isn't at all like him in any way. In the first place, she is splendid
looking,--tall and strong, and the picture of health, with the most
beautiful colour in her cheeks; and she is so jolly and full of fun
that we got on famously together.
Alice is a little over sixteen,--just one year older than I am,--and she
has travelled almost everywhere with her parents (she's the only child,
you see), all over America and in Europe. But she doesn't put on any
airs about it; in fact, instead of talking of her travels, as I would
ask her to do, she'd beg, actually coax me to tell her about my brothers
and sisters, and the times we have at home,--it seems Hilliard has
written her about us. She said she had never known such a large family,
and she wanted me to describe each one, from Phil down to Alan.
On warm mornings we would sit on the beach in the shade of the rocks,
and when Hilliard wasn't reading to us, somehow the conversation always
got round to the family. Hilliard thinks a good deal of our boys, and he
talked to Alice about them; he told her of our entertainment on Nora's
birthday, and our "performances," and she seemed to enjoy hearing of it
all. She asked questions, too, and said she felt as if she really knew
us all.
Mrs. Endicott was almost as nice as Alice, and so _kind_! Why, almost
every day she got up some amusement for us,--driving, or walking, or a
picnic, or something. I really began to enjoy myself very much,--only
that I didn't hear often enough from home. Nora's notes were very
short,--just scraps; she said she was too busy to write more; and Jack
never has shone as a letter writer. He'd say, "Nora had a circus with
the 'kids' to-day,--will tell you about it when you come home;" or,
"Something splendid has happened for Fee,--you shall have full
particulars when you get back," and other things like that. Provoking
boy! when I was longing to hear everything.
After the Endicotts came, I enjoyed myself so well that the time flew
by, and almost before I knew it the last day but one of my visit at the
beach had come. That afternoon, instead of going with Mrs. Endicott,
Alice, and Hilliard, to see how the repairs were getting on at their
cottage, I decided to remain at home. Thinking it over afterward, I
could not have explained why I did not care to go; I didn't even
remember the excuse I made. It could not have been the heat,--though it
was extremely warm,--for a little while after they had gone I dressed
for dinner, and started for a stroll along the beach.
[Illustration: "ON WARM MORNINGS WE WOULD SIT ON THE BEACH."]
I walked slowly on and on, enjoying the beauty of the scenery, until I
suddenly discovered that I was directly opposite the large rock which
Hilliard and I were to have "investigated" some day, but to which he had
never taken me. I knew we could not do it the next day, for Mr. Endicott
had invited us to spend it on his steam yacht, and the day after that
I was to leave for home; so I made up my mind that that afternoon was
my opportunity.
Carefully gathering up my skirts,--I had on my best white gown,--I
picked my way over the rocks and stepped down on the wide strip of sand
which divided this rock from the others. I noticed that the beach sloped
downward to the rock; but in my heedlessness I did not notice that the
sand was slightly damp.
On reaching the rock, I found that what had looked at a distance like an
arched entrance to a cave was really some irregular steps cut out of its
surface, and which led to a narrow shelf, or ledge, a little more than
half-way up the tall, solid-looking mass of stone. I knew that the view
from that height must be fine, and I _love_ to climb; so I determined to
get up to that ledge.
It was not very easy,--the steps were slippery and rather far apart, and
then, too, my dress bothered me, I was so afraid I would soil or tear
it,--so I was a little tired and warm by the time I reached the top. But
the view from there was _beautiful!_ One had a clear sweep of the beach,
except that smaller portion which lay behind the big rock. The shelf on
which I sat, with my feet resting on the step below, was a little
rounded, something of a horseshoe shape, and with the rock to lean back
against I was quite comfortable. I wondered again and again why
Hilliard had avoided showing me this place, and enjoyed every detail of
the view to my heart's content,--the grand, rugged outline of the beach,
the exquisite colours of the sky and water, and the crafts that went
sailing and purring past. I wondered where they were all going, and
made up destinations for them. Then I began counting them, so as to
tell Alice at dinner; I got up to twenty-eight, and then--I must have
fallen asleep.
How long I slept I don't know, but I woke with a great start, conscious
of some loud, unusual noise, and that something cool had fallen on my
face; and for a moment what I saw turned my heart sick with terror.
Everything was changed since last I had looked at it. The sky, so blue
and clear then, was now covered with heavy black clouds, across which
shot vivid flashes of lightning, and there were deep, fierce growls of
thunder. The shining sands that I had crossed so easily but a while
before had disappeared; the ocean, which had then been so far away, now
covered them, and was on a level with the step on which my feet rested.
The blueness of the water had gone,--it was lead-coloured, to match the
sky,--and great angry, white-crested, curling waves came rolling in,
tumbling over and over each other in a mad race to dash themselves
against the rock on which I sat, throwing up each time a heavy shower
of white, foamy spray. It was the touch of this spray on my face that
had wakened me; and to my horror, the water was dancing and gurgling at
my very feet!
In a flash I realised that I was in great danger,--entirely cut off from
the land, and on a rock that was under water at high tide!
"Oh, it can't be! it _can't_ be!" I cried aloud, standing up and looking
wildly around; and as I did so, a big wave broke over my feet.
With a scream I scrambled back on the ledge, and stood there, clinging
to the jagged points of the rock, while I called for help at the top of
my voice. I shouted, and shrieked, and yelled, until I was hoarse, and
the cries were driven back into my throat by the wind; but all that
answered me was the roar of the storm and the screams of the sea gulls
as they flew by.
As the wind lulled for a minute or two, I managed to drag off the skirt
of my gown and wave it, hoping to attract the attention of some passing
vessel,--a long range of rocks cut off any view of the cottages on the
beach,--but the next wild gust tore it out of my grasp.
The water kept rising,--it was bubbling and foaming over my ankles; the
waves were lashing themselves higher and higher, the rain coming down in
sheets, the wind howling and raging,--I was afraid it would blow me off
the ledge! and never in all my life have I heard or seen such thunder
and lightning!
At first I was all confused,--I was so startled that I could think of
nothing but that I was going to be drowned; but after a while I quieted
down, and then I remembered that I could swim. Many a swimming match had
Jack and I had at the Cottage,--I should have said that I was a very
good swimmer; but that was in still water, not in this terrible, cruel
ocean. I made up my mind to throw myself off the ledge and strike out
for the shore,--three times I thought I would, and each time shrank back
and clung the closer to the rock. At last I had to admit to myself that
I was _afraid!_ I, Betty Rose, who had always boasted that I was not
afraid of anything, had to own to myself that I had not the courage to
even attempt to struggle with those waves! My courage seemed all gone. I
was afraid--_deadly_ afraid--of the waves; I screamed as each one struck
me higher and higher, and I hid my face from the lightning. Oh, it was
awful! _awful!_
By and by I began to think; I still felt the rain and waves, and shrunk
from the lightning, but not as I had at first, for I was thinking
thoughts that had never come to me before in all my life. I could
see right before me the faces of papa, and my dear brothers and
sisters,--oh, how I loved them! and I should never be with them again!
How they would miss me! and yet how many, _many_ times had I been
disagreeable, and commanding, and unkind! I loved them, but I had
spoken sharply, and teased, and grumbled when I had had little services
to do for them; now there would be no more opportunities. I wished that
I had done differently!
Then my thoughts flew off to Mrs. Erveng,--how surly and disagreeable I
had behaved to her! Not once had I offered her the slightest attention;
instead, I had got out of her way at every chance. I had called this
being very sincere, honest, above deceit; but it did not seem like that
to me now. And there was Hilliard,--I had laughed at him, been rude to
him, despised him for being a coward, I was _so_ sure of my own courage;
and what was I _now?_ I was ashamed--_ashamed!_ Oh, how my heart ached!
Then I began saying my prayers. The water was up to my waist now; it
came with such force that it swayed me from side to side, and beat me
against the rock to which I still clung. My fingers were cramped by my
tight grip; the next wave, or perhaps the next to that, would sweep me
off--away--to death!
I prayed from my very heart, with all my strength and soul, and it
seemed as if the other things--the waves, the storm, the terrible
death--grew fainter; a feeling came to me that I was speaking right into
God's ear--that He was very near to me.
Somewhere out of the roar and awfulness of the storm came a human
voice,--a cry: "_Betty! Betty! hold on! hold on! I can save you--only
hold on!_" And when I opened my eyes, there was a boat coming nearer and
nearer, dancing on the top of the waves like a cockle shell, and in it
was Hilliard!
"I can't--come--too--close," he shouted. "Jump--with--the--next--wave."
I understood; and with the next receding wave I leaped into the
water,--a wild plunge, scarcely seeing where I was going.
But Hilliard's hands caught me and hauled me into the boat, where I sank
down, and lay huddled up, confused, and trembling so that I couldn't
speak. Hilliard threw something over me,--the rain was coming down in
torrents,--and then he pulled with all his might for the shore.
Presently my senses began to come back; I knew what a terrible strain it
must be to row in such a storm,--though fortunately the tide was with
us,--and he had come out in it for me. I felt I ought to take my share
of the work. "I--can--row. Let--me--take--an--oar," I said slowly,
sitting up.
"Not an oar,--I need both," Hilliard answered decidedly; then he added
persuasively, "Be a good girl, Betty, and just keep in the bottom of
the boat."
I saw that he was rowing in his shirt sleeves,--his coat was over
me,--and his hat was gone; the rain was pouring down on his bare head.
His face was very pale and set,--stern looking,--and the veins in his
forehead were standing out like cords as he strained every nerve at
the oars.
"I'm going for one of the coves," he shouted to me presently, "where I
can run her aground."
Again and again we were tossed back by the receding waves; but at last
we shot into the cove, and I heard the keel grating on the rocky beach.
In an instant Hilliard was overboard, and had pulled the boat up on the
sand, out of reach of the highest wave. As he helped me on to the beach,
I looked up in his white face, and such a sense of what he had endured
for me rushed over me that I couldn't get the words out fast enough.
I threw my hands out and caught hold of his shoulders: "Oh, Hilliard
Erveng, you _are_ a brave boy!" I cried out, choking up. "You are no
coward; you are brave--_brave!_ and I have been a mean, contemptible,
conceited, stuck-up girl." I think I shook him a little; I was in such
earnest that I hardly knew what I was doing.
The rain had plastered Hilliard's hair flat to his head, and washed it
into funny little points on his forehead, and there were raindrops
pouring down his face; but his mouth was smiling, and his eyes were
wide open and shining. He laid his hands over mine as they rested on his
shoulders. "Thank God for to-day, Betty, _thank_ God!" he said, in a
glad, excited way. "He has saved your life, and I am no longer a coward;
I am no longer afraid--see!" As the lightning flashed over us he lifted
his head and faced it, with lips that quivered a little, but also with
unflinching eyes. "Doctor Emmons always said that I would be cured of my
dread could I but face one thunder storm throughout," he added, still
with that joyous ring in his voice. "And now I've done it! I've done it;
I am _free!_"
"Oh! I am so _glad!_ so _very_ thankful!" I began, and then broke down
and burst into a violent fit of crying.
I couldn't stop crying, though I _did_ try hard to control my tears; and
my knees shook so that I could hardly walk. Hilliard almost carried me
along until we met Jim the coachman and Mr. Erveng on the beach. Mr.
Erveng had just got home, and heard that Hilliard and I were out in the
storm. Then between them they got me to the house, where Mrs. Erveng and
Alice and her mother were anxiously waiting for us.
How glad they were to see us! and how they all kissed and hugged me!
Mrs. Erveng took me right into her arms.
Everybody began talking at once. I heard Alice say, "As soon as we
missed you, and Dillon said she had seen you walking toward that part of
the beach, Hilliard declared you were on the rock,--he seemed to guess
it. And he was off for the boat like a flash,--he wouldn't even wait for
Jim; he said every minute was precious--"
I lost the rest; a horrid rushing noise came in my ears, everything got
black before me, and I fainted, for the very first time in my life.
* * * * *
It is now nearly a week since all this happened, and to-morrow I am
going home--to the Cottage. I was so stiff and tired from the beating of
the waves that Mrs. Erveng kept me in bed for several days, and
telegraphed the family not to expect me until Thursday; otherwise
neither Hilliard nor I have suffered from our drenching in that awful
storm. Mrs. Endicott and Alice are going as far as New York with me, and
there Phil will meet me and take me home.
I shall be _very_ glad to be with my own dear ones again,--it seems an
age since I saw them; and I long to talk to Nannie, and tell her
everything. Still, _now_, I'm not sorry that I came here. I think that I
shall never forget my visit to Endicott Beach.
XIX.
HIS BROTHER'S KEEPER.
TOLD BY JACK.
Nora was playing a sweet, wild Hungarian melody on the piano, the boys
were on the stoop talking to Chad,--every now and then the sound of
their voices came in through the open windows,--and I sat under the
drawing-room chandelier reading. Presently Chad came in, and, leaning on
the piano, began talking to Nora in a low tone; and without stopping her
music, she talked back, in the same tone of voice.
[Illustration: "WITHOUT STOPPING HER MUSIC, SHE TALKED BACK, IN THE SAME
TONE OF VOICE."]
The story I was reading was A 1, and I'd got to a _very_ thrilling
place, where the boy comes face to face with an infuriated tiger, when I
heard something said outside that just took all the interest out of my
book. Phil was speaking sharply,--I wondered Nora and Chad didn't hear
him. "What's the _matter_ with you?" he flared out. "I declare, you're
getting as fussy as an old cat! I won't stand the way you're watching
me, and you've just got to drop it. I'm not a _baby_, to be tied to
anybody's apron-strings! I'll go and come as I please."
I didn't hear what Fee said to this, but Phil's answer to it was quite
loud: "Yes, I _am_ going,--to-night, and to-morrow night, and any other
night I please. The _idea_ of a fellow of my age not being able to go
out for a walk without asking your permission!"
[Illustration: "THE STORY I WAS READING WAS A 1."]
"When you talk like that you are downright silly!" broke in Felix. I
could tell by his voice he was trying hard to control his temper.
"'Tisn't the going out that anybody objects to; it's the person you're
going with. You know very well, Phil, that he isn't the sort of fellow
to do you any good. I sized him up the very first time we saw him, and I
still hold to my opinion,--he's a _b-a-d_ lot."
"_A-c-h!_ you make me tired!" exclaimed Phil,--that's a favourite
expression of his when he's cornered,--and leaning in through the
window, he called, "See here, Chad; any time to-night!"
"Yes, A'm coming," Chad called back, and bidding Nora good-night, he
went out; a minute after I heard their steps as Phil and he ran down the
stoop and passed by the drawing-room windows.
Laying my book down quietly and very quickly, I ran out on the stoop.
Fee sat there with his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting on his
clasped hands, staring at nothing. Dropping down beside him, I slipped
my hand in his arm and squeezed it to me. "I heard Phil," I said. "I'm
awfully sorry he _would_ go."
"Yes," Fee answered, but in a way that I knew he wasn't thinking of what
he was saying.
We sat quiet for a little while, then Felix turned suddenly and laid his
hand on my knee. "Jack," he said earnestly, "I've made up my mind about
something that's been bothering me since last night. What I'm going to
do may turn out right, it may turn out wrong,--God only knows; but it
seems right to me, and I'm going to try it. I dread it, though,--just
_dread_ it. If I hadn't promised--" He broke off abruptly, and turned
his head away. I wanted to say something to him, but I couldn't think of
a _thing_.
In a minute Felix began again. "Tell me honestly, Jack," he said, "do
you think that Phil cares as much for me as he used to,--I mean before
that fellow Chad came?"
"Why, Fee!" I exclaimed, "_of course_ he loves you just as well; I
_know_ he does,--we all love you _dearly_!" Do you know, it just hurt
me to have him think Phil could let a person like Chad come between
them. Of course, as nurse says, we have our ups and downs; we get mad
with one another sometimes, and all that, you know; but still we do
love one another dearly, and we'd stand up for the different ones like
everything, if need be. We've always been very proud of Fee,--he's so
clever, you see; but since that night that I'm going to tell you about,
I just think my brother Felix is the noblest, bravest, truest boy in
the world! I've always loved Fee very dearly; but now,--well, now I
have a feeling that I would be willing to give my life for him. Poor
old Fee!
When I said that so positively about Phil's caring, I could see Fee was
pleased; his face brightened up. "Well, perhaps he does," he said. "He's
been very cranky lately, and sharp to me,--in fact to everybody; but I
have a feeling that that's because he isn't really satisfied with the
way he's acting. I tell you, Jack, Phil's a good fellow,"--Fee pounded
his hand down on his knee as he spoke; "it isn't easy for him to do
wrong. And he isn't up to Chad's tricks, or the set he's got him into.
They've flattered Phil first, and that has turned his head; and then
they've laughed at him for not doing the things they do, and that's
nettled him,--until they've got him all their way. I know what they
are,--I can see through their cunning; but Phil isn't so sharp. There
are people in this world, Jack, so contemptible and wicked that they
hate to have anybody better than they are themselves, and Chad and his
crowd belong to that class. If I'd been able to go about with Phil as I
used to, they'd _never_ have had the chance to get hold of him. And as
it is, now that I've found out their game, I'm going to stop the whole
business, and bring Phil to his senses. He's too fine a fellow for
those rascals to spoil. I'll stop it--I'll stop it, no matter _what_
it costs me!"
Oh, how often I've thought of those words since that dreadful night! And
yet, I have a feeling that even if he had known, he would have gone--I
tell you, there isn't another boy in all the world like our Felix!
Fee's voice was shaking, and he got on his feet as if he were going to
start that very minute; but before I could say anything he began again:
"I've got a plan,--not a very good one, I must confess, but it's the
best I can think of, and it may work; that is, if Phil has as much of
the old feeling for me as you think, Jack: I'm building a good deal on
that,--I hope I won't get left. He may turn obstinate,--you know he
_can_ be a very donkey sometimes; and I suppose he'll get furiously mad.
Well, I'll have to stand that,--if only he doesn't blaze out at me
before those cads; _that_ would cut me _awfully_. But that I'll have to
risk; he's worth it. Now, Jack, I want you to help me,--to go somewhere
with me, I mean. I'm sorry to have to ask this, for it's no place for a
youngster like you; but I think you're one of the kind that won't be
hurt by such things, Rosebud,"--putting his hand on my arm,--"and I'm so
unsteady on my feet that I am afraid I really couldn't get along alone.
Get your hat--and my cane."
In a minute I had both, and we went down the stoop together. At the foot
of the steps Fee stopped, and taking off his hat, began pushing his hair
back off his forehead. I could see he was nervous. "Suppose this
_shouldn't_ be the right thing that I'm going to do; suppose it should
make matters worse," he said undecidedly, almost irritably. "Now, if
Nannie were here--I haven't a creature to advise me!"