CHAPTER XI.THE YOUNG WANDERER.
“Either they fear their fate too much,Or their desert is small,Who put it not unto the touch,And lose or win it all.”
“Either they fear their fate too much,Or their desert is small,Who put it not unto the touch,And lose or win it all.”
“Either they fear their fate too much,Or their desert is small,Who put it not unto the touch,And lose or win it all.”
“Either they fear their fate too much,
Or their desert is small,
Who put it not unto the touch,
And lose or win it all.”
The interests of our history require that we take up the fortunes of the captain’s orphan daughter from the moment that she was left alone on the evening preceding her flight.
Poor Annella had not been brought up as other young girls, and therefore should not be judged by the same standard.
The only and motherless child of a dissipated officer in a marching regiment, nearly the whole of her neglected childhood had been passed in the camp, in the barracks, and in perpetual change of place.
And in this roving and unguarded life she had contracted a reckless spirit of independence, a proud impatience of restraint, and a wild love of freedom, which might lead her into the gravest errors, precipitate her into the deepest misfortunes, and require the severest discipline of Providence to correct.
Hitherto her short life, though erratic, had been blameless.
Now deprived by death of her father, her only natural guardian, and the only authority she would recognize, her high spirit revolted at the thought of control by any other power. And above all, the idea of a degrading parochial interference in her personal matters was most abhorrent to her proud heart.
Thus, the strongest motives that could actuate a creature of her peculiar character prompted her to immediate flight—on the one hand, a loathing dread of the degradation of being sent to the union, or bound to a mistress, or left a burden upon the poor widow; and on the other hand, a longing desire for liberty, fresh air, and country scenery; and under all this a latent love of adventure, a romantic disposition, and a long-cherished secret resolution to make her own way in the world, combined an irresistible power to urge Annella to this strange proceeding.
From the hour of overhearing the conversation between the parish officers and the landlady, she had firmly determined upon making her escape into the country.
To hint such a purpose to Mrs. Corder she knew would be to raise instant and fatal opposition to her plans; and once resolved to escape, she was desirous that her departure should be without hindrance or pursuit. Therefore her withdrawal must be private as well as prompt.
But to leave the house without taking leave of her kind friends would seem ungrateful, and to leave them in anxiety concerning her fate would be cruel.
Therefore, after some consideration, she resolved upon the expedient of writing a farewell letter. When she had finished, folded, and directed this letter, she pinned it in front of the frame of her dressing-glass, in a conspicuous place, where she knew it must be found.
Next she made a large compact bundle of all the most valuable portions of her personal effects; then she put up a small parcel containing only a single change of clothing. And then she looked into her purse, that contained justhalf-a-crown, which had been slipped into her hand by Eudora, and accepted as a loan, to be repaid at some future day.
Lastly, she lay down upon the bed to rest while waiting for the dawn of day to commence her journey. She did not expect or even wish to sleep; yet scarcely had her head sunk upon her pillow, when her fatigue overcame her excitement and cast her into a deep sleep that lasted until morning.
Day was dawning when she awoke with a start and a sudden recollection of her purpose.
She sprang up from the bed, and commenced cautious but hasty preparations for her flight.
When quite ready, she took her bundles in her arms and silently descended the stairs until she reached the narrow entrance-hall. She softly glided along this hall until she reached the front door. She unlocked this door, passed through it, closed it behind her, and went forth alone into the world.
The street was at this hour more deserted, still, and silent than at any other time of the day or night. The latest wayfarers had long since retired, and the earliest were not yet astir. The rows of houses on each side the street presented long, dark lines of unbroken gloom and quietness.
For a moment Annella stood before the door she was about to leave, and looked up and down the street in perplexity where first to direct her steps.
Then she turned up the street, and walked on briskly in the direction of the city.
It was growing quite light, so that by the time she reached London Bridge the sun was rising and throwing a flood of golden glory over the waters of the river.
She crossed the bridge and hurried onward up King William street until she reached the shop of a Jew dealer in second-hand clothing.
She entered this shop, untied her large bundle, displayed its contents upon the counter, and inquired of the Jewess in attendance:
“What will you give me for these?”
“How mush do you wantsh?” asked the woman.
“I think they are worth three pounds, but you may have them for two,” replied Annella, hesitatingly.
“Two poundsh!! You are jokinsh,” said the Jewess turning the half-worn dresses over in disdain.
“What will you give me for them, then?” inquired Annella, impatiently.
“Five shillingsh for the lotsh.”
“That will not do,” said Annella, beginning to tie up her bundle.
“Stopsh, stopsh, letsh talk a little more,” said the woman, detaining her customer.
Annella paused, and a little more bargaining ensued, in which, as a matter of course, Annella was cheated. Impatient to be off, she closed the sale, disposing of her wardrobe for the sum of ten shillings, and left the house.
Keeping nearly due north, she walked on until in due course of time she reached the King’s-cross Railway station.
It was now nine o’clock.
She entered the ticket-office, and inquired when the next train would start. She was told at ten minutes past the hour. This gave her just time enough to get a cup of coffee and a bun at the pastrycook’s stall opposite the office.
When she had partaken of this refreshment that her long walk had made so necessary, she went up to the third-class ticket-window, laid her half sovereign upon the ledge, and enquired of the clerk:
“How far on this line will this money take me?”
Instead of answering her question the clerk regarded her with such a look of suspicion, that she hastened to say:
“I have just lost my father, and have no relations here in London. I wish to go to the north, where I have a friend. I have only twelve shillings and six pence, and I wish to save half-a-crown to buy food, and to go as far as half-a-sovereign will carry me on my way; after that I must walk.”
There were other passengers thronging to the window to be accommodated, and so the clerk hastily drew in the half-sovereign and pushed out a ticket, which she seized as she left the window, and joined the crowd that was hurrying towards the third-class carriages. She had just taken her seat when the train started.
It was the first train, and thus it happened that at the very moment in which good Mrs. Corder discovered the absence of her favorite, Annella was full forty miles from London, flying northward at the rate of forty miles an hour.
As the train rushed onward the wild girl’s spirits rose.
It was a beautiful day in spring; the earth wore its tenderest and freshest green; the sky its softest and clearest blue; and the sun shone out like the smile of God over all nature.
Annella was alone in the world; she had just buried her father, and had not a reliable friend left upon earth; she had but one change of clothing in her parcel, and one-half crown in her purse; she knew not exactly where she was going; where she should eat her next meal, or take her next night’s rest.
And yet, in a state of poverty, friendlessness, and uncertainty that must have crushed the spirit of any grown-up man or woman subjected to the trial, this child could not feel sorrowful, anxious, or foreboding.
The sun was bright, the country fresh, and the motion rapid; and between the beauty of the day, the swiftness of the journey, and the shifting of the scenery, her spirits were so exhilarated that she could have sung for joy. It was rapture to watch the woods and fields, farms and hamlets,hills and valleys reel past her as the train flew onward. It was delight to stop at the strange towns, with strange streets and houses, and strange people coming and going. And it was ecstasy to rush onward again with lightning speed. And intoxication to feel that she was free!
She might be the most miserable little creature alive, but she did not know it. She might come to beggary the next day, but she did not think it. She might be rushing straight to ruin, but she did not feel it. Thus, despite of frowning Fate, the spirit in her bosom clapped its wings and crowed for joy.
And by this the reader may jump to the conclusion that Annella’s brain was slightly “touched;” that she was a little “luny;” that she had not her “right change.” Nothing of the sort, dear reader. Annella was simply undisciplined, inexperienced, and eccentric. Her ignorance was “bliss.” And so, though poor and friendless, she set forth to seek her fortune with as brave a spirit as ever inspired Richard Cœur-de-Lion, Lady Hester Stanhope, or any other knight or dame of ancient or of modern times when sallying forth in quest of adventures.
The day wore on. The afternoon was so much more sultry than the season warranted, that the weather-wise farmers in the carriage with Annella predicted the approach of one of the heaviest storms that ever shook heaven and earth. And, as if in justification of this prediction, towards evening the clouds began to gather thick, black, and lowering over the earth. The face of the country also changed. The lovely woods, fertile fields, and fruitful farms were all left far behind, and the barren heaths of the north lay all around.
And still the train rushed onward in the face of the approaching tempest. And still with undaunted spirit, Annella sped on towards her unknown fate.
One after another of her fellow-passengers left the carriage in which she travelled, until at last, at a small roadsidestation, Annella found herself quite alone. And at this station the guard put his head in at the door with the peremptory demand:
“Tickets!”
Annella started from her day-dream, and nervously produced hers.
“You’ve travelled thirty miles farther than you’ve any right to do with this ticket, and I’ve a great mind to give you in charge,” said the guard, angrily.
“Have I? Indeed I did not mean to do it. I quite forgot to look at my ticket,” said Annella, beginning to tremble in a manner most unworthy of damsel-errant seeking her fortune.
“You knew where you were going to, I suppose,” growled the guard.
“Indeed I didn’t; I only wanted to go as far by rail as this ticket would take me.”
“And that was to Howth, and you’ve left Howth twenty miles behind you.”
“My gracious!” was the dismayed exclamation of poor Nella.
“Come! that won’t do, you know; you’ve got to get out, and I shall give you in charge of a policeman. I see one coming now.”
“Don’t! pray don’t! See, I’ve two shillings left, that ought to be enough to pay for a twenty-miles’ ride in a third-class carriage,” said Annella, springing out, and thrusting her last money into the hand of the guard.
That exemplary officer pocketed the fee, and ran forward to open the door of a first-class carriage to admit a gentleman and lady who were waiting for seats.
The train moved on, leaving Annella standing alone by the roadside with her little bundle in her hand, but without a penny in her purse. Around her, in all directions, lay the barren and rolling heaths. Above her lowered the dark and threatening clouds. Night, storm, and darkness wereapproaching, and she was houseless, friendless, and penniless on the heath. She looked around her on all sides for shelter from the gathering tempest, but she could not see a sign of human habitation. Even the little wayside station, so busy a moment before, seemed now shut up and deserted.
In fact, the business of seeking her fortune did not seem half so pleasant as it had appeared in the morning, and she fairly wished herself home in good Mrs. Corder’s third-floor back; but only for a moment, and then her spirits rallied, and she walked on, saying to herself:
“Come, Nella, we mustn’t be dismayed by the first difficulty, let us go on; we are in a Christian country, any how, and by-and-by we must come to some cottage, where the people will give us shelter from the storm to-night, and to-morrow will be a new day.”
And so, with a smile in the face of frowning Fortune, she struck into a road that crossed the rail way track and hurried onward.
She knew not where she was bound. She knew not where in all the north Allworth Abbey, the goal of her desires, might be situated. She knew not even whether she might be within five or ten miles of the place. In setting out to seek it she had taken the general northern route as far as the train would carry her for her money, trusting to the chapter of accidents to find the rest of her way to her destination.
“It must be within a circuit of twenty miles, I should think; and somebody about here must know something about it. So to-night I must seek shelter from the storm, and to-morrow inquire my way to the Abbey,” she thought, as she trudged onward through the gathering darkness.
Low mutterings of thunder and large drops of rain warned her to hurry her steps. She ran on, looking eagerly to the right and left to spy out some wayside cottage in which she might find refuge from the impending storm. But the darknesswas now so thick that she could scarcely see her own road.
Suddenly the clouds were cleft asunder by a stroke of forked lightning, that blazed from horizon to horizon, making the night for one instant as bright as noonday. This was immediately followed by a reverberating crash of thunder and a heavy fall of rain.
Annella stood still, but not appalled; for in that one instantaneous glare of light she had seen on a rising ground far to the westward the white chimneys of a mansion-house. And though the whole scene was again swallowed up in darkness, she kept the direction of the house in her “mind’s eye,” and bent her steps towards it, trusting in the frequent flashes of lightning to correct her mistakes and guide her on her way.
Her way lay up and down hill through this dreadful night of storm, of blinding lightning, of deafening thunder, and of drowning rain. Confused by the warring elements, saturated with wet, and exhausted by fatigue, Annella yet held on her way towards the mansion upon which she had fixed as her house of refuge.
As she approached the neighborhood of this dwelling she grew independent of the lightning as a guide, for in the darkness between the flashes she could see the windows of the mansion, which seemed to be illuminated from within as for a festival.
And from the moment that she found she could keep the house constantly in view, she toiled on towards it hopefully, saying to herself:
“It may be a gentleman’s house or a lord’s house, but it must be a civilized Christian’s house, and therefore it must afford me shelter from the storm for this one night.”
So, though nearly blinded, deafened, and drowned by the lightning, thunder, and rain, Annella valiantly pushed on towards the goal.
But ah! that place of refuge was much farther off thanshe had supposed it to be. A brilliant light set upon a hill is seen for a long way off in a dark night; and long after Annella had first caught sight of the illuminated windows, she continued to toil on through night and storm and darkness, through thunder, lightning, and rain, up and down hill, over the rough road, without seeming to get much nearer the desired haven.
Even the storm grew weary of raging and growled itself to rest. The lightning ceased to flash, the thunder to roll, and the rain to fall; the clouds dispersed, the stars came out, and the moon arose; and Annella, hungry, wet, and weary, still pushed on up hill and down hill towards the illuminated house, which, at last, she was certainly drawing near.
At length she began to ascend a hill on which the mansion stood, blazing like a beacon-light at sea. When she reached the summit of the hill she found herself arrested by the low brick wall that seemed to enclose the home-park attached to the house. Taking this wall for her guide, she followed it, hoping that it would bring her at last to the gate or the gamekeeper’s lodge. Keeping close to the wall, and walking rapidly, she came indeed to the gate, which stood wide open and unguarded, as the lodge beside it was untenanted.
She passed through the gate and entered a long semi-circular avenue of elms, that in the course of fifteen minutes’ rapid walk brought her up in front of a magnificent house, the whole square front of which was illuminated from top to bottom.
And yet there was not a living creature to be seen!
Annella paused in awe, and gazed upon the brilliant and imposing front, muttering to herself:
“There must be a party here to-night. And yet there cannot be, either, for I see no servants, no carriages, and no crowd. And though everything is as bright as heaven, itis also as silent as the grave! What in the world can be the meaning of it all?”
Without daring to go up and knock at the principal door, Annella turned and went around to seek admittance at some humbler back entrance, thinking, with a shudder:
“I shall be torn to pieces by the dogs, I suppose.”
But no dogs barked, and Annella made her way unharmed to the back part of the house.
Here the windows were likewise all illuminated, and some of them were so near the ground that Annella was tempted to look in upon the inmates before knocking for admittance.
So she climbed upon an outside cellar-door, and holding by the window-sill above it, looked through the window in upon the room.
It was a cosy sitting-room, warmly lighted, well carpeted, and well curtained, though now the curtains were drawn back, letting the cheerful light stream out into the cheerless night. There was a table in the centre of the room covered with a most comfortable and substantial supper.
Within her view sat two persons—a tall, lean, gray-haired old man, and a short, fat, fair-haired old woman.
They looked so happy that Annella could not choose but hold on to the window-sill and gaze upon their happiness, until the woman, raising her eyes to the window, started, uttered a shriek, and dropped her knife and fork.
And at the same instant Annella sank down out of sight upon the cellar-door.
But soon she heard a commotion in the room over her head, followed by the opening of a door to the left, and the crashing of a footstep through the shrubbery. And the next instant she felt herself rudely seized, and set upon her feet, while a rough hand turned the light of a dark lantern full upon her face, and a harsh voice demanded:
“Ship ahoy! Who are you?”
“Annella Wilder!” gasped the captured girl, as she recognized the tall, lean, gray-haired old man whom she had watched at his supper.
“From what port?” asked the questioner.
“I don’t know, sir,” answered Annella, in perplexity.
“Where bound?”
“I do not understand you, sir.”
“Who’s your skipper?”
“Indeed I cannot tell you, sir.”
“Come along in then to the admiral! We’ll see if we can’t make you show your colors. We can’t have any piratical-looking crafts cruising about in our seas without overhauling their letters of marque! so I’ll just take you in tow and tug you into port, alongside of the admiral,” said the oddity, keeping a firm hold of his prize, and forcing her on through the back entrance into the house.