NORA ARRIVES IN BERMUDA
It was Monday morning, and the little steamer was just entering
Bermuda Harbor. Most of the seasick passengers had recovered, and were
beginning to appear on deck for the first time since Saturday noon.
Many of the ladies still looked pale, for the trip had been a rough
one, but every one was happy at the thought of landing. Mrs. Carew and
Sarah had not yet appeared on deck, but Nora and Reggie had been up
since six, and were eagerly watching the approaching shore.
“It’s the loveliest place I ever dreamed of!” exclaimed Nora, with
shining eyes. “Oh, Reggie, why didn’t you tell me how beautiful it was?”
“I didn’t remember it very well,” Reggie admitted. “You see, I was only
nine when we came last time. It is pretty, though, isn’t it? Did you
ever see such blue water? And it’s so clear you can almost look down to
the very bottom of the sea. There’s the hotel we’re going to; that big
one, with all the people on the piazza. Do you suppose your father is
looking for you?”
Nora gave a violent start, and all the eager brightness faded suddenly
out of her face. In her wonder and excitement over the beauty of
Bermuda Harbor she had, for the moment, quite forgotten what was going
to happen next.
“I--I don’t know,” she faltered, almost in a whisper.
Reggie regarded her curiously.
“Won’t he be glad to see you?” he inquired, bluntly.
“I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t come. I wish I could fly right back to
New York this minute.” There was such genuine distress--not to say
terror--in Nora’s face, that Reggie stared at her in amazement.
“Why, I thought you loved it!” he exclaimed. But before Nora could give
any explanation of her remarkable words, they were joined by Mr. Carew.
“There’s your daddy on the pier, Kathleen,” he said. “See; he’s looking
for us. Wave your handkerchief to him.”
Nora gave a great gasp, and following the direction of Mr. Carew’s
glance, she caught sight of a tall gentleman, standing on the end
of the pier eagerly scanning the steamer’s passengers Mechanically,
she took out her handkerchief and waved it feebly, and at the sight
the gentleman’s face lighted up with an expression of such joyful
recognition that Nora’s heart gave one bound, and then seemed to stand
quite still.
“He thinks I’m Kathleen,” she said to herself, “and he loves her; oh,
he must love her very much to look like that.” And all at once, the
thing she was doing seemed a very dreadful thing indeed.
“I’m not Kathleen, I’m Nora O’Neil!” The words were actually on her
lips, but then, like a flash of lightning, came the memory of her
mother, and she resolutely choked them back. What would happen if Mr.
Crawford ever learned the truth she did not know, but it was sufficient
that her mother had confided to her a great secret, the revealing of
which might bring untold trouble. Whatever happened, she must continue
to play her part until she was either found out, or received some word
from Mummy. So, with a mighty effort, she conquered the wild impulse to
run away and hide somewhere--anywhere so that she might not see that
glad, loving smile on the face of Kathleen’s daddy--and ten minutes
later she was following Mr. and Mrs. Carew down the gangplank.
A good many people had come down to the boat-landing, many of whom were
greeting friends and relatives, who had arrived by the steamer. Every
one was talking and laughing, and there was considerable confusion,
but Nora scarcely noticed it. There was a strange roaring sound in
her ears, and her teeth were chattering. She was afraid to look at the
crowd of faces on the pier; afraid to see again that bright, welcoming
smile. As she stepped from the gangplank she stumbled, and would have
fallen if some one had not caught her. The next moment she felt herself
held in strong arms, while a kind, tender voice was saying--
“Why, my little Kathleen, what is it? Are you ill? Aren’t you glad to
see Daddy?”
And there was the kind, handsome face bending over her, only now the
look of glad expectancy had changed to one of puzzled anxiety.
She tried to speak, but the words would not come, and in another second
Mr. Crawford had set her on her feet, though he still kept a protecting
arm about her, and had turned to greet Mr. and Mrs. Carew.
“What’s the matter with her?” he inquired anxiously. “Has she been very
sick?”
“She hasn’t been sick at all,” answered Mrs. Carew. “She’s a famous
little traveler. You should have seen----” But Mrs. Carew did not
complete her sentence, for her brother had already turned back to Nora.
“What is it, then, darling?” he asked, and there was so much love and
anxiety in his tone that Nora felt the last vestige of her courage
ebbing away. “Won’t you tell Daddy all about it?”
Then Nora did what was, perhaps, under the circumstances, about the
wisest thing she could have done; she began to cry.
“I--I don’t think I feel very well,” she sobbed; “I think I’d like to
lie down somewhere.”
“Poor kiddie!” exclaimed Mr. Crawford; “she is feeling the effects of
the voyage. People do sometimes, when they haven’t been seasick at the
usual time.” And, without another word, he lifted Nora in his arms, and
strode rapidly away with her, in the direction of the hotel omnibus.
Nora closed her eyes, and let her head rest against Mr. Crawford’s
shoulder, with a feeling of infinite relief. For at least a few moments
she was safe; she would be quiet, and not try to keep up her part,
which had suddenly become so hateful to her. She did not speak once
until they had reached the hotel bedroom, where Mr. Crawford gently
deposited her on a sofa.
“She will be all right in a little while,” she heard some one say.
“People are often seized with a sudden giddiness after a rough voyage.
Just lie still for a little while, Kathleen dear, and you will be as
well as ever in half an hour. Daddy will be back in a few minutes; he
is only going to speak to Aunt Kitty and Uncle Stephen.”
Nora felt a kiss on her forehead, and then the door closed, and she
was alone with Sarah, who was bustling about, unpacking the suit cases.
“Now you just smell these salts, Miss Kathleen,” commanded Sarah,
approaching the sofa with a small bottle, which she promptly applied to
Nora’s nose. Nora coughed, gasped, and sat up.
“I don’t like it; please take it away,” she pleaded. “It’s horrid
stuff; it makes my eyes sting.”
Sarah laughed, and withdrew the smelling salts to a safer distance.
“Of course it stings,” she said; “that’s what does you good. How do you
feel now?”
Nora would have liked to say that she was very ill indeed, but truth
compelled her to admit that she felt decidedly better.
“I thought so,” said Sarah. “Better keep quiet a little longer, though.
My goodness! what a blessing it is to feel the solid earth under one’s
feet again. Well, we’re here, and I suppose everybody’s satisfied,
though I must say I don’t think very much of this surprise business
myself.”
“I don’t either,” agreed Nora, in a tone of heartfelt conviction. “Did
they think Kath--I mean I was going to like it?”
“Of course they did; they thought you’d be wild with joy. I must say
I thought the same at first, but we were all mistaken. That’s one of
the troubles with spoilt children; nobody ever knows what’s going to
please them.”
“Am I--do you think I am a spoilt child?” Nora asked, curiously.
Sarah laughed again.
“Well, what do you think about it yourself?” she said. “I won’t say a
word, for you really have been as good as gold ever since we left New
York. You didn’t like the surprise, but you didn’t make half the fuss
I expected you would. What beats me is why you always pretended you
couldn’t do a thing for yourself. I didn’t suppose you could even put
on your own shoes and stockings.”
Nora did not answer, but her cheeks grew suddenly crimson, and she
turned her face to the wall. There was a short silence, which Sarah was
the first to break.
“There’s one thing, Miss Kathleen,” she said, “and that is we’re here
for the next three weeks, and you might just as well make the best of
it, and try to have a good time. It’s a beautiful place, anyhow, and
your papa planned the surprise because he thought it was going to give
you pleasure. It would be a pity to disappoint him now, wouldn’t it?”
Nora thought of the kind face that had bent over her so tenderly, and
her conscience smote her. After all, if she had to continue to be
Kathleen, there was no reason why Kathleen’s father should be made
unhappy. Perhaps he loved his little girl just as much as her mother
loved her. Suppose Mummy had planned a wonderful surprise for her
pleasure, and she had not liked it at all. What a disappointment it
would have been.
“I shall have to pretend I’m enjoying myself,” she reflected. “I guess
it will be about the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. Oh,
I do hope Mummy isn’t worrying very much about me, and that she and
Kathleen are happy together. When we get back home, and have changed
places again, Mr. Crawford mustn’t think Kathleen was ungrateful and
horrid.”
So, when Mr. Crawford returned a few minutes later to inquire for his
little daughter, Nora was able to force a faint smile, and to assure
him, in a rather tremulous voice, that she was “ever so much better.”
But, although somewhat relieved by this assurance, Mr. Crawford did not
look altogether satisfied. Nora felt his keen glance searching her face
anxiously, and her heart began to beat fast with sudden apprehension.
What if Kathleen’s father were to discover that she was only a little
impostor!
“I’m sorry I was so silly,” she said, humbly, as Mr. Crawford sat down
beside her on the sofa. “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful, but you see,
it was such a very sudden surprise. I thought--I thought--oh, please
don’t be unhappy about it!” And Nora’s tears burst forth afresh.
“My dear child, I am not unhappy about anything. Whatever put that idea
into your head?” Mr. Crawford’s tone was very kind, but he was looking
more puzzled and worried than ever. “I thought you would enjoy the
surprise, but I am afraid we all made a big mistake. Aunt Kitty tells
me you were quite upset when you found you were on your way to Bermuda.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, so very sorry!” sobbed Nora. “Please forgive me, and
I’ll try to enjoy myself, indeed I will!”
“There, there, don’t cry, pussy,” soothed Mr. Crawford, kissing her.
“You are tired and nervous, that is all. Mrs. Anderson wrote me you
were not well, and that was one reason why I sent for you, but you are
going to be all right soon, and you have no idea what delightful times
we are going to have. Your friends, the Campbells, are here, and crazy
to see you. Now suppose you come with me for a little walk while Sarah
unpacks. The air will do you good, I am sure.”
Nora rose obediently. She felt as though a weight had been lifted from
her shoulders. Puzzled as he was, it was evident that Mr. Crawford
did not suspect the truth, and, after all, there was something very
attractive in the prospect of taking a walk in Bermuda.
“I should love to go,” she said, and five minutes later she and her
tall companion had started on what proved to be by far the most
interesting walk Nora had ever taken in her life.
It was a very different child who came bounding into the hotel bedroom
an hour or so later. There was a bright, excited color in her cheeks,
and her eyes were shining as Sarah had never seen them shine before.
“It’s the most beautiful place in the world!” she announced,
breathlessly. “I didn’t suppose there was any place quite so beautiful
except Heaven. The water, and the sky, and the flowers! You never saw
such flowers. There are lilies, beautiful Easter lilies, growing right
out in people’s gardens. Oh, Sarah, never mind about that old trunk.
Come out and see it all.”
“I’ll go for a little walk this afternoon,” said Sarah, calmly. “I’ve
seen pretty places before. I went to Florida with one family I lived
with, and to California with another.”
“I don’t believe any other place could possibly be so beautiful as
this,” declared Nora. “If only Mother could see it!”
Sarah was quite touched.
“Your mamma is in a much more beautiful place, I’m sure, dear,” she
said, kindly, at which well-meant remark Nora suddenly recollected
herself, and blushed scarlet.
By way of changing the subject, she approached the bed, on which Sarah
had spread a number of garments from the trunk she was unpacking.
“Oh, what a lovely dress!” she exclaimed involuntarily. “Am I really to
wear it?”
Sarah paused in her work, and stared at her charge in amazement.
“What ever are you talking about?” she demanded, sharply. “As if you
hadn’t worn that dress to dancing-school at least a dozen times!”
“I--I didn’t think what I was saying,” stammered Nora, and then she
went over to the window, and stood with her back to the astonished
Sarah, hoping that the fresh sea-breeze would cool her burning cheeks.
“Oh, what shall I do?” she asked herself despairingly. “I keep
forgetting, and saying things I shouldn’t, every minute. If I keep on
at this rate they’ll find out long before we get back to New York.
I’ve got to keep remembering I’m Kathleen, not Nora, and it’s terribly
hard work. I wish I knew a little more about the things Kathleen likes
to do. It would be dreadful if I said I loved something that they all
knew she hated. I guess the best way will be not to say any more than
I can help about things. When Father was acting Mummy says he forgot
everything else except his part. I’m not an actress, but I hope I can
be one when I grow up, and if I play this part well, perhaps it will
be a help to play real ones some day. It’s going to be terribly hard,
and I know I could never possibly keep it up if it wasn’t for Mummy’s
sake.”
At that very moment, Mr. Crawford was saying to his sister, Mrs. Carew--
“She looks well, I admit, rather better than I expected from Mrs.
Anderson’s letter, but there is something seriously wrong with the
child. I haven’t yet found out what it is, but I shall watch her
closely, and if she hasn’t improved decidedly within the next two or
three days, I shall consult a doctor about her. Her expression puzzles
me.”
Mrs. Carew smiled good-naturedly.
“My dear Duncan,” she protested, “you really are absurd about that
child. I assure you she is perfectly well, and has never behaved better
in her life than she has done since she recovered from the first shock
of your grand surprise. I really don’t see why you worry so much over
trifles.”
“Kathleen is the dearest thing I have in this world,” answered her
brother, gravely. “It is only natural that I should be anxious about
her when I feel sure there is something seriously wrong.”