DELIVERANCE
So, trial after trial past,
Shalt thou fall at the very last,
Breathless, half in trance,
With the thrill of a great deliverance,
Into our arms forevermore.
_Browning._
“Joseph Wyvil took his sister home, but it was no longer the bright and
happy home that it had been before Lil’s stolen marriage and its almost
tragic end.
“Lil fell into such dull and deep despair that her brother feared it
would terminate in that most hopeless form of madness known as
melancholia.
“He consulted their old family physician, who, after several visits to
his patient, recommended an entire change of scene, occupations and
interests for the despairing girl.
“Ah, poor Joseph Wyvil! And poor Lil! The doctor might as reasonably
have recommended a yacht to the Mediterranean Sea and a palace on the
coast of Sicily for this impoverished and embarrassed brother and
sister.
“The expenses of the trial had absorbed all Joseph Wyvil’s savings, and
even compelled him to mortgage his house.
“For to the lawyer’s fees and other legal costs there had been added the
expenses of his own and his sister’s board and lodging at Carlisle, and
of his own and the lawyer’s journey to London and back, and their hotel
bills while in that city dancing attendance at Somerset House, and the
loss of time and work.
“Joseph Wyvil was hopelessly embarrassed in money matters. The lately
industrious, thriving and ‘fore-handed’ mechanic was financially ruined.
“Not by his own doings, but by the folly and calamity of his sister and
brother.
“He had lost his work also, and could not recover it. This was a
misfortune he had not in the least calculated upon. But another man had
got his place, and there was no room for him.
“Joseph first sold his silver watch, and next the precious half dozen
silver tea-spoons left him by his mother, to pay the interest on his
notes and to bear current expenses. After that, piece by piece of the
little parlor set went.
“But these could not last long. The crash came. The house was sold under
the mortgage, and the little home was broken up. So much calamity may
come of one little act of folly like Joe’s and Lil’s runaway marriage.
“Joseph took his sister and the remnant of his household furniture and
moved into two rooms of a poor tenement house, and tried to get work
even as a common laborer, but failed.
“He then sold more of his small stock of furniture, divided the money
with Lil, and went ‘on the tramp,’ seeking work of any honest sort
wherever he might get it.
“So he drifted to Liverpool. There he met with an old shipmate and
friend of his late uncle, Zebedee Wyvil. This was George Poole, now
captain of the fast-sailing Baltimore clipper Oriole, then in port.
“To Captain Poole poor Joseph Wyvil told his story.
“After hearing him to the end, the skipper said:
“‘There is always work for willing hands in America, and often fortune,
too. Come out with me to America, Wyvil. I shall sail for Baltimore in
ten days.’
“‘I have no money, and all my household goods would not bring ten
pounds,’ sadly replied Joseph.
“‘The more reason for your accepting my offer. Come, you can work your
passage over if you insist upon being independent, and when——’
“‘But my poor little sister. I cannot leave her in her misery.’
“‘Of course you cannot. Who asked you to do so? Bring her with you. She
shall have a free passage; or, if she has too much pride to accept a
favor, she may help the stewardess mend the ship’s linen, just as she
pleases. Come, old fellow, take an old friend’s honest offer and best
advice. Run up to Carlisle. Sell out your sticks, and bring your sister
down here. You have plenty of time to settle up all your affairs. And
when we get to
“The land of the free and the home of the brave,”
I will look after you like a godfather until you get work. Come, what do
you say?’
“‘I accept your kindness. But, oh! how shall I ever be able to express
my thanks?’
“‘By holding your tongue, and getting ready to sail, my boy. You said
your doctor recommended change of scene for the girl, didn’t you?’
“‘Oh, yes! yes! But how was I to provide it for her, even though her
life or reason might depend on her having it?’
“‘Exactly. But now you see it is provided for her. Hurry back to her,
Wyvil. By the way, here. You must not dream of tramping back to
Carlisle. Take this five-pound note. Pshaw! Nonsense! I am not offering
to give it to you, man, but to lend it. There, hurry back to your
sister, and fetch her down. I’ll warrant her spirits will improve in a
week.’
“Joseph Wyvil would have thanked this warm-hearted and generous friend
and benefactor, but found no words, no voice to express himself.
“He took the first train back to Stockton, and returned to the poor
lodgings where he had left Lil.
“He found her much worse than he had left her—paler, thinner, weaker and
more melancholy.
“When he told her of the prospect opened for them by this free passage
to America, her first words were those of disappointment.
“‘I thought we were to go out to Australia to join poor Joe.’
“‘And so we are to do, dear, just as soon as I can make money enough to
take us out there. But I cannot make this money in England. And so we
must thank Heaven for this free passage to America, where work is plenty
and wages high. There it will require a much shorter time to make money
enough to take us out to join Joe.’
“‘But will this voyage carry us any farther away from poor Joe than we
are now?’ was Lil’s next anxious question.
“‘No; no farther. I do not think as far. Australia is at the antipodes,
as we stand here, you know; so every thousand miles we sail must take us
a thousand miles nearer in space, and the greater facilities offered in
America will take us years nearer in time to our heart’s desire.’
“‘Let us go, then! Oh! let us go! I begin to see light at last!’
exclaimed Lil, rallying as she had never rallied since her parting with
her husband.
“The need of activity, the prospect of a journey and a voyage, and
conditions that were to bring her nearer in time as well as in space to
Joe, infused new life into Lil.
“She rendered prompt and efficient aid to Joseph in preparing to leave
home.
“The sale of their household goods brought exactly £7 5s. 3d., or about
$37.56 of our money. Joseph had of the money loaned him by Captain
Poole, £4 10s., so that when he had settled all his little debts he had
still £10, or $50 of our money, left.
“On the day after their sale they took the train for Liverpool, and by
the captain’s advice, went immediately on board the ship, to save
expense of board and lodging in the town.
“In a few days the Oriole sailed, and wind and weather proving very
favorable, in two weeks the clipper crossed the Atlantic Ocean and
anchored in Baltimore harbor.
“Within a week after landing Joseph Wyvil obtained work as a journeyman
carpenter on a house that some contractor was in a hurry to finish by a
certain date.
“Then he took his sister from off the ship, and conveyed her to a cheap,
respectable boarding-house.
“Within a month after this the Oriole sailed again for Liverpool, and
the brother and sister lost their kind friend.
“Joseph Wyvil and Lil had both written to their poor Joe before leaving
England, telling him of their new hopes and plans.
“They wrote again on reaching Baltimore, telling him of their better
fortunes, and of their one object in making and saving money as fast as
possible to go out and join him.
“But ah! Joseph Wyvil’s prosperity did not continue. When the house on
which he had been at work was completed, he and his fellow-journeymen
were thrown out of employment, and despite their utmost endeavors,
remained idle for the rest of the winter.
“But about the middle of March a change came. A certain capitalist of
Baltimore had found out a favorable part of the Jersey coast for the
opening of a new summer resort that should combine cheapness with
everything else that was desirable in life.
“He had leased the one large hotel on the place, and was about to build
a number of small, rough cottages and bathing-houses there to
accommodate visitors.
“All the carpenters who happened to be out of employment, and were
willing to leave Baltimore for several months, were engaged at good
wages on the work.
“Joseph Wyvil was among the rest, and he went to Seawood, taking his
sister with him.
“The other workmen got accommodations in the fishermen’s cottages
scattered here and there along the shore, but Joseph Wyvil took his
sister to a little inland village about two miles from the sea, lodged
her in a farm-house for a few days, and then rented a cheap cottage with
a little garden, furnished it with the bare necessities of life, and put
her there.
“Gradually, as the spring and summer went on, he added little comforts
to her store as his wages enabled him to do so.
“He went to work every morning, and returned every evening. He and his
sister lived a most secluded life. They joined the Episcopal church at
Seawood by letters from the rector of the parish church at Stockton, and
as they were described as Joseph Wyvil, of Stockton, and Elizabeth, wife
of Joseph Wyvil, a very natural mistake was made in their case—a mistake
that they never thought of, and that no one else was aware of.
“They were taken for husband and wife instead of brother and sister; and
as they went nowhere but to church, and received no visitors, this
natural mistake was not corrected.
“They lived contentedly enough together, writing by every Australian
mail to Joe, and looking forward to the time when they should have money
enough to go out to him.
“They had not had a line from poor little Joe since he sailed in the
transport ship, on the fifteenth of the last December, nor had they
expected to get one. They knew that months must elapse before the end of
his voyage, and more months before a return letter could come to them.
They even remembered how many months must pass before their first letter
could reach him, though after the first long gap of silence the letters
would come and go more frequently.
“To complicate matters more—to fill the situation with more of grief and
more of joy—it was certain that little Lil was destined to become a
mother. This fact was not written to Joe, for, said Lil:
“‘If I tell him it will only add to his anxiety and impatience to see
us. If my child should live, it will only be the greater surprise and
delight to him when he hears of it or sees it.’
“It was about the middle of August, ten months after Lil’s marriage, and
seven months after the heart-breaking separation from her husband, that
the second catastrophe of her life came.
“You already know all about it—how, while Joseph Wyvil was at work on
the shore, in the heat of an August afternoon, the little son of Major
Hereward, while bathing, got out of his depth, and being unable to swim,
was drowning and cried out for help.
“And Joseph Wyvil forgot all prudence in his manly impulse to rescue the
perishing boy, and all overheated as he was, plunged into the water,
swam to him and seized him; how he had just time to tow him in and fling
him into the outstretched arms of a fisherman, when he was seized with
cramp, sank and was swirled away by the under-current.
“You know all about that, and how the news of his sudden and violent
death shocked the delicate young mother into a premature confinement,
and how little Lil died within a few hours after giving birth to her
daughter—died without being able to articulate one word of explanation
to Major Hereward, who, brought thither by the minister, stood beside
her bed ready to adopt the infant orphaned for his sake and for the sake
of his son.
“Major Hereward was in no measure to blame for what occurred; yet he
mourned as if he had been culpably responsible for the tragedy, and he
did all that lay in his power—all that mortal man could do to atone for
it. And not the least part of his work was his adoption and education of
the orphan infant.
“That was his bounden duty. His most sacred duty. And in the object of
this duty he found the greatest comfort and happiness of his life,” said
Tudor Hereward, breaking in for the first time upon Zuniga’s narrative,
and taking and carrying the hand of Lilith to his lips.
“I can well believe that! Lilith was a true daughter to her adopted
father,” said Zuniga.
“She has been true as truth in every relation of her difficult life,”
added Hereward.
“Will you tell us now, dear, what we most long to know—your own life
after you left England under such a cruel and unjust condemnation? For
even to me, your child, you have never told that story, consecutively,”
said Lilith, to divert the conversation from herself, for she was always
embarrassed by such very direct praise.
“Yes, but still in the third person, if you please, and still partly
from the notes I have made from time to time,” said Zuniga.
And he resumed his personal history as if speaking of another.