IF SHE WAS DROWNED, HOW CAN SHE BE HETTY?
A few friends had joined the Wavertree family circle that evening, and
Reine had no further opportunity of speaking about Hetty. She was absent
and thoughtful; but wakened up when asked to sing, and sang a thrilling
little love song with such power and sweetness as went to everybody's
heart. She was thinking as she sang of Hetty's face, and it was her
strange yearning for Hetty's love that inspired her to sing as she did.
That night she could not sleep. Her mother's eyes, with the loving look
she remembered so well, were gazing at her from all the corners of the
room. Her mind went back over the recollections of her childhood; and
her father's voice and her mother's smiles were with her as though she
had only said good-night to both parents an hour ago. The lonely girl,
who had everything that the world could offer her, except that which she
longed for most, the affection of family and kindred, felt the very
depths of her heart shaken by the experience of the past evening. That a
girl who seemed so much a part of herself should have risen up beside
her, and yet be nothing to her, seemed something too curious to be
understood. Her imagination went to work upon the possibilities of Mr.
Enderby's being induced to give Hetty up to her altogether, to be her
adopted sister and to live with her for evermore. She was aware that
people would distrust this sudden fancy for a stranger, and that
opposition would probably be offered to her plan; but then she was not
her own mistress; and by perseverance she must surely succeed in the
end.
Oh, the delight of having a sister! Reine had had a sister, a baby
sister lost in infancy, and had often taken a sad pleasure in fancying
what that sister might have been like if she had lived. She had been six
years younger than Reine. Hetty was fifteen, about the age that the
little sister might now have been. Reine sat up in her bed and counted
the years between fifteen and twenty-one twice over on her fingers to
make perfectly sure. Hetty was the very age of the little sister. And so
like her mother! If the baby sister of whom she had been bereft could be
still alive, then Reine would have declared she must be Hetty.
She was now in a fever of excitement. Her curly brown hair had risen in
a mop of rings and ringlets around her head with tossing on her pillow,
her eyes were round and bright, and a burning spot was on each of her
cheeks. At last she sprang out of bed and in a minute was at Nell's
bed-room door.
Nell was awakened out of a sound sleep by the opening of her door.
"Don't be frightened, Nell; I'm not a burglar--only Reine."
"What's the matter?" said Nell, rubbing her eyes. "Have you got the
toothache?"
"I never had toothache. I want to know something."
"I often want to know things," said Nell, now sitting bolt upright in
her little bed; "I'm sometimes _dying_ of curiosity. But it never
routed me out of my sleep in the middle of the night."
"It's about Hetty," said Reine, sitting on the floor in a faint streak
of moonlight, and looking like a spirit--if spirits have curly hair.
"You've gone Hetty-mad!" said Nell; "wouldn't Hetty keep till morning?
We're not going to transport her or lock her up. You will have all next
week to sit looking at her."
"Where did you get her?" asked Reine. "I know she is a foundling; but
she must have had a beginning somewhere."
"Of course she had; and a most peculiar one. She was found on the Long
Sands. That is a place three miles from Wavertree on the sea-shore,
where wrecks often come in. John Kane, one of the carters, found her,
and Mrs. Kane took her home. Then Aunt Amy, who is dead, fancied her and
adopted her. When Aunt Amy died she was left unprovided for, and papa
brought her here; and here she is."
"Found on the shore where wrecks come in! And she is just fifteen. Oh,
Nell, are you sure you are telling the truth?"
There was a sound in Reine's voice that startled Nell.
"The plain truth. Every village child knows it. What has it got to do
with you?"
"I don't know. I don't know. I am afraid to think. Why, Nell, listen to
me. When I was a child of seven years old, my mother and father took me
to France. They had inherited a property there and were going to take
possession of it. They were fond of the sea, and they long travelled by
sea. While still near this coast the vessel was overtaken by storm and
wrecked. My father, mother, and myself were saved. But my little baby
sister was washed out of my mother's arms and drowned."
"Well?"
"Well!"
"If she was drowned how can she be Hetty, if that is what you mean?"
"They thought she was drowned. We were taken into another vessel and
carried on to France."
"And never asked any more questions about the baby?"
"I don't know. My father and mother are both dead," said Reine
pathetically; "I am sure they did all they could. But I know they
thought they saw her drowned before their eyes."
"And I suppose they did. Reine, stop walking about the floor like Crazy
Jane, in your bare feet, and either come into my bed or go back to your
own."
"I am going," said Reine; "please forgive me, Nell, for spoiling your
sleep."
"Don't mention it. We can talk all the rest in the morning. If you are
allowed to go on any more now, you will be mad to-morrow, and, what is
worse, you will have a cold in your head."
Nell curled herself up in her pillows again, and was soon fast asleep.
But Reine could not sleep; and came down to breakfast next morning
looking as pale as a ghost.
After Mr. Enderby had gone to his study Nell began:
"Mamma, do you know Reine has got a bee in her bonnet!"
"My dear, where did you get such an expression?"
"Never mind. It is quite accurate. She believes that Hetty is her sister
who was drowned when she was a baby."
Mrs. Enderby looked at Reine with a face of extreme surprise.
"Nell talks so much nonsense," she said, "that I scarcely know what to
think of her speeches sometimes." And then seeing Reine's eyes full of
tears, she added kindly:
"Dear child, is there any grain of truth in what this wild little
scatter-brain has said?"
Reine burst into tears.
"Don't mind me, Mrs. Enderby, please; I have been awake all night, and I
don't feel like myself. It is only that Hetty Gray is so--so
_distressingly_ like my mother. And Nell says she was found on the
sea-shore after a storm and wrecks. And it is fourteen years ago. And
that is the very time when our vessel was wrecked, and my father and
mother believed that our baby was drowned. Oh, Mrs. Enderby, only think!
Is it not enough to turn my head?"
"It is a very remarkable coincidence at least," said Mrs. Enderby; "but,
dear Reine, try to compose your thoughts. You must not jump too hastily
at conclusions. At the end of fourteen years it will be very difficult
to find evidence to prove or disprove what you imagine may be true."
Reine shook her head. "I have thought of that; I have thought of it all
night."
"In the first place, are you quite sure about the dates?"
"Quite, on my own side. I have a little New Testament in which my father
wrote down, the day after our rescue, the date of the wreck and a record
of the baby's death."
"We must send for Mrs. Kane," said Mrs. Enderby; "and hear what she has
to say before we allow our imaginations to run away with us."
"And oh, Mrs. Enderby,--if you saw the likeness of my mother at just
Hetty's age! May I telegraph for it at once--to let you see it?"
"Certainly, my dear; for it and that copy of the Testament. But not a
word to Hetty. It would be cruel to run the risk of subjecting her to a
heavy disappointment"
The telegram was sent; and Mrs. Kane appeared, wondering greatly why
she was wanted at the Hall in such a hurry.
"Now, Mrs. Kane," said Mrs. Enderby, "here is a young lady who is
greatly interested in the story of the finding of Hetty Gray on the Long
Sands by your husband, and I have promised she shall hear of it from
your own lips."
They were all gathered round a sunny window in the great brown hall,
lined with carved oak and decorated with armour and antlers. Mrs.
Enderby herself pushed a stately old oaken chair towards the rose-framed
sash and said encouragingly:
"Sit down, Mrs. Kane, and make yourself comfortable. There is nothing to
be nervous about. You know we are all friends of your favourite, Hetty."
Mrs. Kane was trembling with some curious excitement, and could not
remove her eyes from Reine Gaythorne's face.
"I do not know who the young lady may be, ma'am," she said, "but this I
will say, that she is as like my Hetty as if she was her own born
sister."
A flood of colour rushed over Reine's pale face, and she clasped her
hands and fixed her eyes on Mrs. Enderby.
"Never mind that," said Mrs. Enderby, "tell the young lady what you
remember."
"There's but little to tell," said Mrs. Kane, "beyond what everybody
knows. John happened to be down upon the sands that night, and he got
the baby lying at his feet. He brought her to me wrapped in his coat,
and says he, 'Anne, here's God has sent us a little one.' And we kept it
for our own, seeing that nobody asked for it. I have the day and the
year written in my prayer-book; for I said to myself, some day, may-be,
her friends will come looking for her--out of the sea, or over the land,
or whatever way providence will send them. And for one whole week we
called her nothing but 'H.G.'"
"H.G.!" echoed Reine.
"Those were the letters wrought upon the shoulder of her beautiful
little shift," said Mrs. Kane. "And afterwards we made out that they
stood for Hetty Gray."
"She had on a little shift?"
"Mrs. Rushton got it," said Mrs. Kane. "The finest bit of baby clothes I
ever set my eyes on."
Reine had come close to Mrs. Kane, and her lips were trembling as she
went on questioning her:
"Were the letters in white embroidery--satin stitch they call it? Were
they all formed of little flowers curling in and out about the letters;
and was the chemise of fine cambric with a narrow hem?"
"That's the description as plain as if you were looking at it," said
Mrs. Kane.
"I have half a dozen like it at home in one of my mother's drawers,"
said Reine turning red and pale. "Where is this little garment? is it
not to be found?"
"I have it, dear," said Mrs. Enderby quietly. "After Mrs. Rushton's
death I took possession of it. I hardly anticipated so happy a day as
this for poor Hetty, but I thought it my duty to take care of it."
The little chemise was produced, and Reine identified it as one of the
set belonging to her baby sister supposed to have been drowned, and
marked with her initials standing for Helen Gaythorne.
"My mother marked them herself," said Reine, examining the embroidery as
well as she could through eyes blinded by tears. "She was wonderfully
skilful with her needle, and took a pride in marking all our things with
initials designed by herself. Oh, Mrs. Enderby, is not this evidence
enough?"
"It seems to me so," said Mrs. Enderby, "especially taken with the dates
and the likeness to your family. When your mother's portrait comes----"
"I must send for the little baby-garments too," said Reine; "but oh, why
need we wait for anything more? May I not run to my sister, Mrs.
Enderby?"
"Calm yourself, my dear Reine, and be persuaded to take my advice. We
must consult a lawyer and get information as to the wrecking of the
vessel, and the place where the shipwreck occurred. It will then be seen
whether it was possible for a child lost on the occasion to have lived
to be washed in upon this shore."
"Possible or not, it happened!" cried Reine. "Oh, Mrs. Enderby, unless
you can make me sleep through the interval I shall never have patience
to wait."
The portrait of Reine's mother taken at fifteen years of age and the
packet of tiny embroidered chemises arrived the next morning from
London. The former looked exactly like a picture of Hetty; the latter
was the counterpart of the baby-garment produced by Mrs. Enderby from a
drawer of her own. Mr. Enderby was then consulted, and admitted that the
case seemed established in Hetty's favour. However, prudent like his
wife, he insisted that nothing should be said to Hetty till lawyers had
been consulted, and information about the wreck of the vessel obtained.
In the meantime Reine was abruptly sent home to London.
"She will make herself ill if she is allowed to stay in the house with
Hetty, and obliged to be silent towards her as to her discovery," said
Mr. Enderby. "When the chain of evidence is complete, we can think of
what to do."
So Mr. Enderby himself carried off Reine to London that very night.
"It will be necessary to come, my dear," he said, "and make inquiries at
once. You will thus arrive more quickly at your end. Now just run into
the school-room for a minute and say good-bye to Hetty. But if you love
her, say nothing to disturb the child's peace."
It cost Reine a great struggle to obey these sudden orders; but she saw
their drift, and was wise enough not to oppose them. In her travelling
dress she appeared in the school-room, where Hetty, all unconscious of
the wonderful change for her that was hanging in the balance of Fate,
sat at work as usual with Miss Davis.
"I have come to say good-bye," said Reine; "I am called off to London in
a hurry. But you must not forget me. We shall surely meet again."
Hetty's heart sank with bitter disappointment She had been living in a
sort of dream since yesterday, a dream of happiness at being so suddenly
and unexpectedly loved by this sweet girl who had risen up like an angel
in her path. The hope of seeing her again and enjoying her friendship
had kept a glow of joy within her, which now went out and left darkness
in its place. She strove to keep her face from showing how deeply she
felt what seemed like caprice in Reine.
Reine looked in her face with that long strange gaze which had so
impressed Hetty's heart and imagination, smothered a sob, snatched a
kiss from her sister's quivering lips, held her a moment in a close
embrace, and then turned abruptly and was gone.
"Miss Gaythorne seems a rather impulsive young lady," said Miss Davis
disapprovingly. "I wish she had taken a fancy to some one else than my
pupil. You must try to forget her, Hetty. Girls like her, with wealth
and power and nobody to control them, are apt to become capricious, and
work mischief with people who have business to attend to. I hope you
understand me, Hetty."
"Yes," said Hetty with a long sigh.
"You must not expect to see Miss Gaythorne again. She will probably have
forgotten you to-morrow."
Miss Davis was not in the secret which was occupying the minds of
several of the inmates of Wavertree Hall.