IN MERRY ENGLAND.
When Marian recovered consciousness she found herself on board ship and
a lady attending to her wants. When she was at last able to ask how she
came there the lady nurse told the following story:
"On the evening of Holy Thursday, about the time the storm arose, our
vessel lay to opposite a place on St. Mary's coast, called Pine Bluff,
and the mate put off in a boat to land a passenger; as they neared the
shore they met another boat rowed by two men, who seemed so anxious to
escape observation, as to row away as fast as they could without
answering our boat's salute. Our mate thought very strange of it at the
time; but the mysterious boat was swiftly hid in the darkness, and our
boat reached the land. The mate and his man had to help to carry the
passenger's trunks up to the top of the bluff, and a short distance
beyond, where a carriage was kept waiting for him, and after they had
parted from him, they returned down the bluff by a shorter though
steeper way; and just as they reached the beach, in the momentary lull
of the storm, they heard groans. Immediately the men connected those
sounds with the strange boat they had seen row away, and they raised the
wick in the lantern, and threw its light around, and soon discovered you
upon the sands, moaning, though nearly insensible. They naturally
concluded that you had been the victim of the men in the boat, who were
probably pirates. Their first impulse was to pursue the carriage, and
get you placed within it, and taken to some farmhouse for assistance;
but a moment's reflection convinced them that such a plan was futile, as
it was impossible to overtake the carriage. There was also no house near
the coast. They thought it likely that you were a stranger to that part
of the country. And in the hurry and agitation of the moment, they could
devise nothing better than to put you in the boat, and bring you on
board this vessel. That is the way you came here."
The grateful gaze of Marian thanked the lady, and she asked:
"Tell me the name of my angel nurse."
"Rachel Holmes," answered the lady, blushing gently. "My husband is a
surgeon in the United States army. He is on leave of absence now for the
purpose of taking me home to see my father and mother--they live in
London. I am of English parentage."
Marian feebly pressed her hand, and then said:
"You are very good to ask me no questions, and I thank you with all my
heart; for, dear lady, I can tell you nothing."
The next day the vessel which had put into New York Harbor on call,
sailed for Liverpool.
Marian slowly improved. Her purposes were not very clear or strong
yet--mental and physical suffering and exhaustion had temporarily
weakened and obscured her mind. Her one strong impulse was to escape, to
get away from the scenes of such painful associations and memories, and
to go home, to take refuge in her own native land. The thought of
returning to Maryland, to meet the astonishment, the wonder, the
conjectures, the inquiries, and perhaps the legal investigation that
might lead to the exposure and punishment of Thurston, was insupportable
to her heart. No, no! rather let the width of the ocean divide her from
all those horrors. Undoubtedly her friends believed her dead--let it be
so--let her remain as dead to them. She should leave no kindred behind
her, to suffer by her loss--should wrong no human being. True, there
were Miriam and Edith! But that her heart was exhausted by its one
great, all-consuming grief, it must have bled for them! Yet they had
already suffered all they could possibly suffer from the supposition of
her death--it was now three weeks since they had reason to believe her
dead, and doubtless kind Nature had already nursed them into resignation
and calmness, that would in time become cheerfulness. If she should go
back, there would be the shock, the amazement, the questions, the
prosecutions, perhaps the conviction, and the sentence, and the horrors
of a state prison for one the least hair of whose head she could not
willingly hurt; and then her own early death, or should she survive, her
blighted life. Could these consequences console or benefit Edith or
Miriam? No, no, they would augment grief. It was better to leave things
as they were--better to remain dead to them--a dead sorrow might be
forgotten--living one never! For herself, it was better to take fate as
she found it--to go home to England, and devote her newly restored life,
and her newly acquired fortune, to those benevolent objects that had so
lately occupied so large a share of her heart. Some means also should be
found--when she should grow stronger, and her poor head should be
clearer, so that she should be able to think--to make Edith and Miriam
the recipients of all the benefit her wealth could possibly confer upon
them. And so in recollecting, meditating, planning, and trying to reason
correctly, and to understand her embarrassed position, and her difficult
duty, passed the days of her convalescence. As her mind cleared, the
thought of Angelica began to give her uneasiness--she could not bear to
think of leaving that young lady exposed to the misfortune of becoming
Thurston's wife--and her mind toiled with the difficult problem of how
to shield Angelica without exposing Thurston.
A few days after this, Marian related to her kind friends all of her
personal history that she could impart, without compromising the safety
of others: and she required and received from them the promise of their
future silence in regard to her fate.
As they approached the shores of England, Marian improved so fast as to
be able to go on deck. And though extremely pale and thin, she could no
longer be considered an invalid, when, on the thirtieth day out, their
ship entered the mouth of the Mersey. Upon their arrival at Liverpool,
it had been the intention of Dr. Holmes and his wife to proceed to
London; but now they decided to delay a few hours until they should see
Marian safe in the house of her friends. The Rev. Theodore Burney was a
retired dissenting clergyman, living on his modest patrimony in a
country house a few miles out of Liverpool, and now at eighty years
enjoying a hale old age. Dr. Holmes took a chaise and carried Marian and
Rachel out to the place. The house was nearly overgrown with climbing
vines, and the grounds were beautiful with the early spring verdure and
flowers. The old man was overjoyed to meet Marian, and he received her
with a father's welcome. He thanked her friends for their care and
attention, and pressed them to come and stay several days or weeks. But
Dr. Holmes and Rachel simply explained that their visit was to their
parents in London, which city they were anxious to reach as soon as
possible, and, thanking their host, they took leave of him, of his old
wife, and Marian, and departed.
The old minister looked hard at Marian.
"You are pale, my dear. Well, I always heard that our fresh island roses
withered in the dry heat of the American climate, and now I know it! But
come! we shall soon see a change and what wonders native air and native
manners and morning walks will work in the way of restoring bloom."
Marian did not feel bound to reply, and her ill health remained charged
to the account of our unlucky atmosphere.
The next morning, the old gentleman took Marian into his library, told
her once more how very little surprised, and how very glad he was that
instead of writing, she had come in person. He then made her acquainted
with certain documents, and informed her that it would be necessary she
should go up to London, and advised her to do so just as soon as she
should feel herself sufficiently rested. Marian declared herself to be
already recovered of fatigue, and anxious to proceed with the business
of settlement. Their journey was thereupon fixed for the second day from
that time. And upon the appointed morning Marian, attended by the old
clergyman, set out for the mammoth capital, where, in due season, they
arrived. A few days were busily occupied amid the lumber of law
documents, before Marian felt sufficiently at ease to advise her
friends, the Holmeses, of her presence in town. Only a few hours had
elapsed, after reading her note and address, before she received a call
from Mrs. Holmes and her father, Dr. Coleman, a clergyman of high
standing in the Church of England. Friendliness and a beautiful
simplicity characterized the manners of both father and daughter. Rachel
entreated Marian to return with her and make her father's house her home
while in London. She spoke with an affectionate sincerity that Marian
could neither doubt nor resist, and when Dr. Coleman cordially seconded
his daughter's invitation, Marian gratefully accepted the proffered
hospitality. And the same day Mr. Burney bade a temporary farewell to
his favorite, and departed for Liverpool, and Marian accompanied her
friend Rachel Holmes to the house of Dr. Coleman.
* * * * *
We may not pause to trace minutely the labors of love in which Marian
sought at once to forget her own existence and to bless that of others.
A few events only it will be necessary to record.
In the very first packet of Baltimore papers received by Dr. Holmes,
Marian saw announced the marriage of Angelica Le Roy to Henry Barnwell.
She knew by the date, that it took place within two weeks after she
sailed from the shores of America. And her anxiety on that young lady's
account was set at rest.
After a visit of two months, Dr. Holmes and his lovely wife prepared to
return to the United States. And the little fortune that Marian intended
to settle upon Edith and Miriam, was intrusted to the care of the worthy
surgeon, to be invested in bank stock for their benefit, as soon as he
should reach Baltimore. It was arranged that the donor should remain
anonymous, or be known only as a friend of Miriam's father.
In the course of a few months, Marian's institution, "The Children's
Home," was commenced, and before the end of the first year, it was
completed and filled with inmates.