A GOOD SAMARITAN.
UNKNOWN, however, and unsuspected by herself, Evelyn Manwaring was not
without a witness in this her passion of grief. The “odd man,” who had
been the last to leave the room, had, after the manner of odd men, left
the door open when he took his departure, and it thus fell out that the
scene just described was witnessed by the friendly and sympathising
eyes of a stoutish, middle-aged spinster lady of kindly aspect, who,
on hospitable thoughts intent, had entered the ante-chamber of the
drawing-room. Miss Sarah Strong, for such was this good lady’s name,
watched the new-comer in silence for some little time, as if determined
to allow her grief to take its natural course; and then, hastily
brushing away from her own face what seemed to be a falling tear,
she advanced briskly into the room, and, laying her hand on the young
lady’s shoulder, said in sympathising tones of voice, “Come, my dear,
I’m sure you must be tired and cold after your long journey; so, as I
am your next-door neighbour, Sarah Strong, I have come to beg you to
step across the passage to my rooms, and warm yourself at my fire until
dinner is ready, and take a cup of hot tea which I have made on purpose
for you.”
This friendly invitation, and the kind voice in which it was conveyed,
sent a thrill of comfort into the girl’s sorrowful heart; and seeing,
as she looked up, a homely sympathetic face looking down into her own,
she rose hastily, wiped away her tears, and thankfully accepted the
neighbourly invitation, adding that she had expected to find her maid
awaiting her arrival, but that apparently she had gone out.
“I think,” said Miss Strong, “I can explain the cause of her absence.
When I was coming upstairs about an hour ago, I overheard Lady Lavinia
Gathercole’s maid, who lives below on this staircase, and who is a good
creature, although a sad gossip, making the same request of her that I
am making of you--asking her, I mean, to take a cup of tea.”
As Miss Strong thus spoke, a loud rushing noise was heard without,
and in another moment a strapping, red-cheeked, country girl dashed
into the room, seized her young mistress’s hand, and, shaking it as if
it had been a pump-handle, exclaimed in stentorian tones--“Eh, Miss
Evelyn, on’y to think as you should ha’ come when I was away, like a
nat’ral brute beast! Eh, but I’m main glad to see ’ee! I wor sitting
just moped to dead, when, who should come sailing in, in her silks and
satins, but Mrs. Papfaddle, Lady Lavinia Gathercole’s own maid, and a
lady hersen to look at, that she be, and begged me to go down and tak
a coop o’ tay; and down I went, and got cracking about such a lot o’
things, I forgot where I was; and eh, Miss, Mrs. Papfaddle did tell me
as these rooms is haunted by a Cardinal.”
“Why, Bessie,” said Miss Manwaring, “how you do run on! But what do you
mean when you speak of a Cardinal?”
“Why, Cardinal ’Oolsey, Miss, him as built this place hundreds o’ years
agone, before it was taken from him by that wicked king who cut off his
wives’ heads, like Blue Beard in the story books.”
“You need not be much alarmed,” interposed Miss Strong, smiling; “this
old Palace is supposed to be haunted sometimes by the ghost of the
great Cardinal Wolsey, who, for some unexplained reason, chooses to
appear in the form of a gigantic black spider. I have never seen him
myself, but Lady Glengriskin, your predecessor, who, like most Scotch
women, had a great knack for seeing apparitions, professed that she
was favoured with his company on several occasions. But come, you are
cold and tired, and we can discuss the matter over a cup of tea by my
fireside; come at once, I beg, and bring your beautiful dog with you.”
So saying, the kindly lady led the way to her own sitting-room, which
seemed a very paradise of light and warmth and comfort, and, drawing an
easy chair to the fireside, she placed her guest in it, and begged her
to make herself at home.
A cup of hot tea having been thankfully consumed, Miss Strong, after a
short interval, conducted her new acquaintance into the dining-room,
which in warmth and snugness vied with the room she had left, and,
seating Miss Manwaring at table, ordered dinner to be brought in at
once. A tidy maid-servant obeyed her mistress’s order with almost
miraculous alacrity, and an excellent little dinner was speedily placed
on the table. Hot clear ox-tail soup, a juicy fowl stuffed and roasted
to a turn, with hot potatoes, bread sauce, and a scientifically
constructed winter salad, followed by Albany puddings, served up with
their proper sauce, made up the simple but capital meal, which brought
a tinge of colour back to the cheeks of the traveller in whose especial
behoof it had been prepared; and when the cloth was removed, and Miss
Strong had insisted on her guest’s partaking of a brimming glass of old
port which had belonged to her late brother, Colonel Strong, R.A., Miss
Manwaring felt more at home and more refreshed and rested than an hour
ago she could have imagined to be possible.
Miss Strong was unwilling to detain her guest long after they had
returned to the drawing-room, and urged her early retirement to rest,
advice which Miss Manwaring was by no means loath to follow.
“Now good night, my dear,” said her kind friend, as she prepared to
leave Miss Manwaring’s apartments, to which she had accompanied her;
“and please expect me to-morrow at half after four, when I shall call
and take you to see the Duchess.”
“Oh dear!” cried Evelyn, weariedly, “what Duchess?”
“Why, the Duchess of Ribblesdale, to be sure, our Duchess, the best and
dearest lady in the world; the _Vice-Reine_ of Hampton Court, I
call her. She would have come to call upon you herself, but she has a
cold, and cannot go out; so she desired me to bring you to see her, and
to say she used to know your mother when they were both girls.”
“Ah!” said Miss Manwaring, in a strange, dreamy tone of voice. “Ah! how
strange! Yes, that name ought to be dear to me. I shall be glad to see
her Grace to-morrow.”
Miss Strong now committed her young companion to the care of Bessie
Hudson, her Lancashire maid, and retired to her own apartments; and
Miss Manwaring was soon in bed, and sleeping the peaceful sleep of
youth and innocence.
The good Samaritan who acted this neighbourly part towards the
newly-arrived stranger was the only sister of a certain Colonel Strong,
who had been an excellent and much respected officer of the Royal
Artillery. Colonel Strong was the most humane and tender-hearted of
men, and had been frequently known to remove a snail from a garden
walk, lest it should get trodden under foot. He had made it the great
object of his life to discover and perfect the most deadly of missiles
for the destruction of his fellow-creatures, and had written a book
on “Explosive Bombs,” which was known to all “gunners” as a work of
extraordinary science and the highest authority, and it was the
text-book on the subject in the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich.
But Colonel Strong had done more than theorise and write. He had
himself invented a marvellous shot, which he was prepared to warrant
would go farther into an iron plate and oak backing than any other
projectile known to military science. And this shot had the additional
and paramount advantage over all others, that when it had got to the
extreme end of its beneficent course, and had remained quiescent for
five minutes, it would explode, and blow the ship or fort in which it
was embedded into a hundred thousand atoms. When the French and the
Russian and the United States Governments, and the Emperor of China,
and the Prince of Monaco, heard of this wonderful product of modern
civilisation, they severally offered the inventor vast sums for the
secret of the invention; but Colonel Strong was a good and patriotic
Englishman, and, rejecting all foreign offers with contempt and
strong language, offered it to the English War Office. The War Office
authorities had the offer under consideration for ten years, and seemed
no nearer coming to any decision upon it at the end of that period than
they had been at first. It happened, however, that Colonel Strong had
a friend in the House of Commons who belonged to the Opposition Party,
and this honourable gentleman asked the Secretary for War a vast number
of very disagreeable questions on the subject of the Strong Projectile,
and moved for the entire Correspondence. This could not be refused,
and then it was discovered that it filled three entire Blue Books of
the largest volume, the production of which made the Controller of
H.M. Stationery Office and the Queen’s Printer very much regret that
they had ever been born. The Secretary for War (who several times
contemplated resigning his post) was next badgered into permitting a
trial to be made (at the inventor’s expense), and a day was at length
appointed for that purpose. Colonel Strong was in raptures, and,
although a heavy man, could hardly help jumping for joy when the great
day arrived. His Royal Highness the Field-Marshal Commanding in Chief,
the Secretary for War, the successful M.P. (in volunteer uniform),
Colonel Strong, several General officers and other military experts,
made quite a grand procession as they pranced and caracoled out of
Woolwich on their way to Plumstead Marshes, where the trial was to
take place. When they arrived at the appointed spot, Colonel Strong
was in such a state of excitement and fidget that he could not keep
still a moment. At length the Secretary for War (who secretly hoped the
trial would be a failure) said, in a low voice, “I think, your Royal
Highness, we had perhaps better begin,” and then somebody said “Fire.”
At that moment Colonel Strong popped up his head just in front of the
muzzle of the gun, and the explosion blew it into a thousand pieces.
The Field-Marshal Commanding in Chief was naturally distressed at
this untoward circumstance, and, mentioning the matter to the Queen,
Her Majesty, with her usual kindness, was graciously pleased to offer
apartments in Hampton Court Palace to the late Colonel’s only sister.
Miss Strong gratefully accepted the offer, and that the more so since
the Government, which forthwith adopted her brother’s invention, made
no sort of compensation for it whatsoever.
Miss Strong was a plain, excellent, kind-hearted woman, who lived for
the good of others, and by self-denial made her limited income do
wonders for the benefit of her fellow-creatures. She was gratefully
known as “Sister Sarah,” and whether it was a decayed lady of rank in
the palace, or a private soldier in the adjoining barracks, who was
sick and suffering, she was always ready to act as a kind and efficient
nurse.