But Lionel had to suffer from the consequences of his sin during the weary weeks which followed, when, racked with pain and fever, he lay upon his sick-bed with plenty of time for reflection. How he regretted the many occasions when he had disobeyed the mother who nursed him with such untiring care! He felt he had never loved her half enough, and hoped God would spare his life that he might try to make amends to her for his wilfulness in the past.
LIONEL did not lose his leg as Dr. Warren had at first feared he would; nevertheless, six weeks elapsed before he was sufficiently recovered to be moved from No. 8 Fore Street; but during the latter half of that period he was well enough to receive visitors, and to take a lively interest in all that went on around him. Ruth came and wept over her brother, and would not be satisfied until he had explained to her exactly how his accident had happened; after which she expressed surprise that he had not been killed outright. "I don't know what I should have done if your leg had had to be cut off," she told him in tragic tones; "think how dreadful it would be if you were obliged to wear a cork leg, or a wooden one with a peg in it! Really, Lionel, you were very foolish to get in the way of the blunderbuss!"
"I know, I know!" Lionel answered, flushing. "It was all my fault, but you needn't remind a fellow of it!"
"Well, I won't again," she said, as she gave him an affectionate hug; "I only said what I thought!"
Then Sir Richard came to see his sick grandson—not the old sarcastic Sir Richard before whom Lionel would have been stricken dumb, but a more sympathetic person altogether, who refrained from remarking upon the disobedience which had led to Lionel's accident, judging that his sufferings had been sufficient punishment.
Lionel learnt much as he lay on his bed of sickness, waited on by his mother and Miss Warren, with the assistance of a trained nurse. He grew to like and respect Dick's Aunt Mary Ann, and to feel ashamed that he had ever laughed at her or her kindly brother, whose visits he looked forward to as the happiest moments during the long, tedious days. Then Dick was nearly always at hand—Dick, who, when offered a faltering apology for the manner in which his mother had been spoken of, said he forgave his cousin freely, and would hear no more upon the subject. It was little wonder that the invalid felt he was treated better than he deserved.
The end of October was drawing near when Lionel was removed from the shelter of the doctor's roof to his grandfather's home. Mrs. Compton had accepted her father's invitation to stay at the Manor House till after Christmas, for there was no question of Lionel's returning to school for the autumn term; and Ruth was delighted at the thought of such a long holiday.
The cold weather was tardy in coming that year. Although it was late autumn, the days were still mild and sunny; and Dick did not realise that summer had passed, and winter was close at hand. He found the golden autumn days very pleasant, and he and Ruth spent many long hours in the woods gathering blackberries and hazel nuts; watching the squirrels chattering in the branches overhead; and playing hide-and-seek. On the whole, they agreed very well, though sometimes they had differences of opinion when Ruth claimed her right of freedom of thought, although she was a girl, as she would say defiantly.
Dick was perfectly contented and happy at that period of his life; he was daily growing to like his grandfather better, and to recognise the many sterling qualities hidden beneath his cloak of pride; and he was receiving cheerful letters from his parents, in one of which his mother remarked that Sir Richard had written most kindly and affectionately about him. How joyful Dick was when he read his mother's loving words,—
"It nearly broke our hearts to part with you, my darling, but we can see now that all has been for the best. Sir Richard writes that he is well pleased with you, and that you have brought sunshine into his life—it makes your father and me very happy to hear that. We value your letters so much! Ah, you never guess, I am sure, how often we read them, and talk of our dear boy!"
"Not more often than I think of them, and read their letters!" Dick cried one Sunday evening, a few days after Lionel had been removed to the Manor House, as he sat in the drawing-room at No. 8 Fore Street, reading his mother's letter again and again, whilst Aunt Mary Ann at the piano played her favourite chants, and Uncle Theophilus indulged in an idle hour. "Next year will soon be here now, won't it, Uncle Theophilus? Fancy! I have been in England more than four months!"
"Does it seem a great while?" Dr. Warren asked, his eyes resting thoughtfully on his little nephew's animated countenance, which had rounded into the curves of health.
"Oh, yes!—at least, in some ways! I miss Lionel and Aunt Arabella, don't you? Last Sunday night you, Lionel, and I had a talk together, don't you remember?"
The doctor nodded. Dick gazed earnestly into the glowing embers in the grate. The weather was wet and stormy; occasionally the wind clapped against the windows as though it would break them in, and shook the house. On such a night a good fire was cheering and comfortable.
"I believe we are going to have a severe gale," Dr. Warren remarked; "the wind has veered to the east, and I fancied I heard the sea roaring just now. We feel an easterly wind on this coast."
Miss Warren ceased playing whilst they all listened. The rain was descending in torrents, whilst the wind rose in gusts, and howled like a creature in distress; but above the wind and rain the sound of the waves as they dashed upon the shore and beat against the foot of the cliffs was distinctly heard.
"Poor sailors!" sighed Miss Warren sympathetically. "God help them to-night!"
She struck a few chords on the piano, and began to sing the hymn, "For those in peril on the sea," in a voice which had once been a fine soprano, and, though rather quavering now, was still sweet in tone. Her brother joined in his deep bass, and Dick hummed the tune when he could not quite remember the words.
"Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea."
When the hymn was concluded, the doctor rose from his chair, and, going to the window, pulled back the blind and looked out. As he did so, a light from the direction of the sea gleamed for a moment through the darkness, and a report like the firing of a gun was heard. Miss Warren turned around quickly on the piano stool, and exchanged a glance of dismay with her brother.
"What is it? What is it? What is that noise?" Dick cried.
"There is a vessel in distress, and the crew is trying to draw attention to the fact by burning coloured lights and firing guns," Dr. Warren said, as he hurried into the hall, and hastily pulled on his overcoat. "I am going down to the beach, Mary Ann, to see if I can be of any assistance!"
"Oh, Theophilus, take care of yourself!" she exclaimed, as he opened the front door and was lost from sight in the blackness of the night.
Dick ran upstairs to ascertain if anything was to be seen from his bedroom window, but all was in darkness over the sea now. On opening the window he found the rain had ceased, though the wind was higher than ever. He strained his ears to listen, but heard no more guns fired. Presently Miss Warren joined him, remarking that the servants had asked if they might go down to the beach, and had started off immediately on receiving her permission.
"Oh, let us go too!" Dick pleaded. "Oh, Aunt Mary Ann, do say yes! See, it has stopped raining—it has, indeed! The wind won't hurt us a bit! Oh, do let us go!"
At first Miss Warren would not hear of it; but she was curious and anxious to know what was wrong, and finally consented to lock up the house and follow the other members of the household to the beach.
Miss Warren in a waterproof, with the hood over her head, and Dick in a thick overcoat, were suitably clad to face the weather. The rain had cleared temporarily, so they had only the wind to combat with as they hurried hand in hand down the village street. Not until they reached the beach did they realise the full fury of the gale; then it was as much as they could do to keep their feet.
The villagers were standing about in groups, straining their eyes in their vain endeavours to pierce the darkness; the men, for the most part, were quiet, but the women talked fast and excitedly, whilst the children clung to their mothers' skirts, some in tears, others awed into silence.
"I wonder where Theophilus is?" Miss Warren murmured anxiously. "I wonder if any one has seen him?"
"Are you speaking of the doctor, ma'am?" said a woman's voice. "He was here a few minutes ago! I heard him asking for volunteers!"
"Volunteers! What do you mean?" gasped Miss Warren, her heart sinking with dread at the thought of what she knew she was going to hear.
"There's a ship on the Pope's Nose," the same voice replied, "a coasting vessel—a schooner they say. She struck about an hour ago, and she'll not be long in breaking up, I'm thinking! The ship's boat has landed some of the crew in safety, but the captain and the mate are still aboard, and I heard Dr. Warren just now asking for volunteers to go with him to fetch them off!"
The Pope's Nose was a reef of rocks jutting into the sea, invisible at high water, which was regarded by the fishermen as one of the most dangerous on that coast. Miss Warren clasped Dick's hand tightly; she knew her brother well, and was certain he would not hesitate to face danger or death, if by doing so there was the faintest hope of his saving human lives; but she trembled exceedingly, and her lips refused to utter a word. Suddenly some one else spoke to her.
"Oh, Miss Warren, is it you? Oh, dear, dear, dear!" ejaculated Miss Tidy's voice, full of lamentation and tears.
"Why do you speak like that?" Miss Warren questioned in strange, husky tones.
"The doctor's rowed off to the wreck along with John Haydon, and Jim Cole, and—"
"The doctor knows his duty as well as my grandson knows his," broke in a quavering voice which Dick recognised immediately as Granfer Cole's. "What's the good of going on in that foolish way and upsetting folks, Miss Tidy? You'd better far be praying to God A'mighty to help the brave souls, than stand there wringing your hands like a heathen, as though there was not One above! You've maybe forgotten Him as rebuked the wind and the raging of the water on the sea o' Galilee!"
"You are right, Granfer," Miss Warren said, her spirits rising hopefully at the old man's words; "but oh, it is a terrible storm! I cannot make out anything in the darkness! How long will it take to reach the Pope's Nose, if all goes well?"
"Half-an-hour," the old man answered, "that's making allowances for the weather, and the difficulty of rowing in such a sea!"
"And another half-hour to get back!" cried Miss Tidy. "Here comes the rain again!"
It fell in a down-pour, but Miss Warren had no thought of returning home now. She stood by Granfer Cole's side with Dick clinging to her. Her lips moved in prayer. "God help them! God help them!" she murmured, whilst the little boy echoed her words, with a terrible dread in his heart that the roaring sea, which seemed to him then like a wild animal greedy for prey, would never give back Uncle Theophilus to them again.
Although the Pope's Nose was not far from shore, it was impossible to see anything of the vessel upon the rocks; the lights alone had indicated the spot where she was stranded. The wild east wind blew inland in angry gusts, whilst the waves rose like great walls of foam before they broke, and rushed hissing up the beach. Truly, it was an awful storm; and nothing could be done but wait patiently for the rescuing boat, and pray for her safe return.
The time dragged slowly on; half-an-hour passed—an hour. Every voice on the beach was silent now. At length, when waiting was becoming simply agony, a mighty cheer rose from the expectant crowd, as borne on the crest of a huge wave, the boat with its precious load of rescuers and saved reached the shore; and a dozen or more pairs of willing hands helped to drag her high and dry, out of the reach of the incoming tide.
There was a clamour of voices; eager questions; tears, sobs; and in the midst of the intense excitement Dick and his aunt somehow understood that the brave men who had gone out to the wreck had returned in safety, bringing the captain and the mate of the schooner with them.
An hour later the beach was deserted. The shipwrecked crew was safely housed at the village inn; and the doctor, with his sister and Dick, were discussing the events of the evening over the supper-table.
How proud Dick was of his uncle! He could not help watching him with admiring eyes, and wondering what Ruth and Lionel would say when they heard the story of the wreck. He meant to go to the Manor House the first thing in the morning, after breakfast, and hoped no one would be before him in telling the tale.
Miss Warren looked pale after the excitement and anxiety she had undergone, and was far less talkative than usual, so that it would have been a very quiet supper-table but for Dick, who kept up an incessant flow of conversation with his uncle.
"Fancy Granfer Cole being on the beach in such dreadful weather!" the little boy exclaimed. "I should have thought he would have been afraid to come out-of-doors!"
"Was he there?" Dr. Warren said. "Ah, he is an old salt, and minds neither wind nor rain."
"By the way, one of his grandsons was the first to answer to my call for volunteers—a fine fellow he is too, and as strong as a young lion! He must be a lad after Granfer's own heart, I feel sure."
"I believe the storm is abating," Miss Warren remarked after listening a minute, whilst a look of relief crossed her face. "I am so glad! Do you think the wreck will break up during the night, Theophilus?"
"Very likely, I should say. I have seldom seen a worse storm—they must have felt it badly even at the Manor House, where it is comparatively sheltered, but I much doubt if they know anything about the wreck. You are making a very poor supper, Dick!"
"I can't eat much to-night, Uncle Theophilus! I'm not hungry!"
"Excitement has taken away your appetite, I suppose!"
"Yes, Aunt Mary Ann and I were so dreadfully afraid that you would be drowned?" Dick confessed. "I was never so frightened before!"
"Ah, I have not scolded you and your aunt for coming down to the beach," Dr. Warren said reprovingly, "and I don't think I shall now. I am glad I did not know you were there, though!"
"Uncle Theophilus!" cried Dick, "you are one of the bravest men I know!"
"Oh, come now, my boy, I cannot allow you to so openly flatter me," the doctor expostulated with a smile. Then, seeing how serious Dick was, he added gravely, "I only did my duty, no man should do less than that. 'The Eternal Father, strong to save' was with us all to-night!"
"He was indeed!" Miss Warren agreed softly.
As for Dick, he rose from his chair, went around the table to Dr. Warren's side, and flung his arms around his neck.
"You are brave, Uncle Theophilus!" he cried, "and I feel so proud of you, and so glad that I sort of belong to you, you know!"
NOT often was the little village of Holton in such a ferment of excitement as on the morning following the storm. As soon as the first faint gleams of day-break brightened the eastern sky, several fishermen assembled on the beach and strained their eyes in the direction of the Pope's Nose to ascertain what had become of the wreck. It was seen immediately that the ill-fated vessel had broken up during the night; the sea, which had calmed down considerably, was strewed with wreckage; and very soon the scene on the shore was a busy one, as the fishermen ran their boats into the water, and commenced collecting whatever salvage they could lay their hands upon.
By eight o'clock quite a crowd was watching the proceedings, including the captain of the lost schooner and the sailors who had been so mercifully preserved from a watery grave. Granfer Cole was there also, no worse for the drenching he had received the preceding night; and Miss Tidy hovered about, first gossiping with one, then with another, till it was time for her to hurry home and open the post-office to the public. Then Sir Richard Gidley with Ruth, closely followed by Nero, were seen approaching. Nothing had been known of the wreck at the Manor House till the morning, when the postman, the first corner from the village, had brought the news. Sir Richard had started for Holton at once with his grand-daughter, who had begged to be allowed to accompany him. The little girl had been thrown a great deal with her grandfather during her brother's illness; she had grown to know him better, and had lost her fear of him; whilst he, from at first tolerating her society, had actually grown to appreciate it.
The first enquiries Sir Richard made when he appeared in the midst of the villagers were for the shipwrecked crew. Immediately the captain of the lost vessel came forward, and gave him a brief account of the perils undergone during the preceding night. Sir Richard's eyes glowed as he listened to the story, so gratefully told, of how the doctor and his volunteers had gone out, at the imminent risk of their lives, to the doomed ship, for he dearly loved to hear of a brave deed; but he made no remark, although everyone saw he was deeply moved.
Meanwhile Dick had started to walk to the Manor House. Great was his disappointment, when he arrived there, at the absence of his grandfather and Ruth; but he found Mrs. Compton and Lionel in the dining-room, and poured the story of his experiences the night before into their ears.
"How I wish I had been there!" Lionel exclaimed. He was lying on a sofa, and his mother had been reading to him. "What a nuisance it is to have a game leg, to be sure! If there's anything exciting going on I'm certain to be out of the way! We could hear the sea roaring last night—grandfather said it was a ground swell; and I was simply longing to be down on the beach, although we knew nothing whatever about the wreck. You were in luck's way, Dick!"
"It was awful!" Dick responded impressively. "I never wish to see a storm again! The waves were like great mountains of foam, and the wind almost blew us off our feet, and made us gasp for breath!"
"How brave of Dr. Warren to go out to the wreck!" Mrs. Compton exclaimed. "Now, I call him a real hero!"
Dick looked delighted, especially when Lionel added his word of praise by saying heartily,—
"Dr. Warren's a very good sort! I shall never forget how awfully kind he's been to me, and I'm not a bit surprised that he showed up so well last night!"
By and by Sir Richard and Ruth returned. The latter was so full of chatter that her mother had to ask her to allow some one else an opportunity of speaking; and seeing her grandfather was regarding her with a disapproving frown on his face, the little girl sat down at the foot of her brother's sofa, and lapsed into silence.
"The storm has done a great deal of damage along the coast," Sir Richard informed his daughter. "The east cliff was washed right away last night."
"Washed right away!" Mrs. Compton echoed wonderingly. "What terrible force the waves must have had! I should have thought the east cliff would have withstood any storm!"
"I wish I could go and look!" Lionel cried impatiently. "If only my leg was well enough for me to get about!"
"You should be thankful it is as well as it is," his grandfather reminded him gravely.
"Oh, I am," Lionel answered quickly, flushing under the gaze of Sir Richard's reproving eyes; "but it's such a pity to be shut out of all the fun! Did you know the east cliff was washed away, Dick?"
"No," was the reply; "I never heard of the east cliff before."
"It was that high cliff which jutted out into the sea at high tide, forming a headland on the east from Holton," explained Sir Richard.
"Oh, yes; I've often been round that cliff looking for the secret passage," Dick answered, "but I did not know what it was called before. Is it quite washed away, grandfather?"
"Quite. The headland has disappeared altogether, making the line of cliffs almost straight."
Presently Sir Richard asked his daughter to accompany him into the garden to see the havoc the storm had worked there. The minute after they had left the room, Ruth's busy tongue began to chatter.
"Much good all our fine plans were for finding the secret passage!" she exclaimed. "I believe you boys thought you'd be sure to discover it!"
"We must have been near the entrances scores of times!" Lionel cried vexedly. "It would have been something to have been proud of if we had been successful in finding it!"
"I don't know," Dick responded; "I haven't thought so much about it lately—not since you were shot. That put it quite out of my head."
"Oh, but think how people would have talked about us if we had found the secret passage!" said Lionel, who set great store on public opinion. "I daresay it would have been put in the newspaper!"
"Well, they put all about your accident in the newspaper," Ruth reminded her brother. "I heard grandfather read it out to Susan Morecombe. It was headed in big print—'A Terrible Gun Accident,' and it said—"
"You've told me about that before," Lionel interposed hastily, mindful that the newspaper account had spoken of his ignorance of fire-arms, and desirous of hearing no more on that score; "you're such a magpie that you're bound to repeat the same things over and over again."
There was a little further conversation, and then Dick declared he must be going, for Aunt Mary Ann would expect him home in good time for the mid-day meal. Ruth suggested walking a short way with him, so after Dick had taken a farewell of Lionel and promised to come again shortly, and had found his aunt and grandfather in the garden, and had said good-bye to them, the two children started off together.
On reaching the lodge, Dick remarked to Ruth that she had better retrace her footsteps, but she elected to accompany him a little further; and he discovered her reason for doing so when she pulled him up at a gateway on one side of the road, and pointed to a small grey donkey complacently munching the fresh green herbage in the field within.
"That donkey belongs to an old woman who goes about selling scrubbing-sand," Ruth informed her cousin; "he's having a holiday now because his mistress is laid up with rheumatism. He's quite tame, and so good-tempered! Here, Neddy, Neddy!" And the little girl extended her hand coaxingly through the bars of the gate.
The donkey promptly came up to them, and submitted to have his face stroked, and his ears pulled softly, evidently pleased and flattered by these attentions.
"He knows me quite well," Ruth said; "I've often noticed him before. Wouldn't you like to have a ride on his back, Dick?"
"Without a saddle?" Dick asked somewhat doubtfully. "I don't believe I could stick on."
"Oh, yes, I'm sure you could!" she assured him. "It's much easier than you think! I tried yesterday—there was no one about—and it was not at all difficult."
The children climbed the gate, which was locked, and dropped into the field. Neddy threw up his heels, and scampered a way from them; but he was soon encouraged to return, and Dick caught him around the neck.
"Now, you hold him whilst I get up," Ruth commanded.
"All right!" Dick replied.
After several ineffectual attempts to jump upon Neddy's back, the little girl at length accomplished the difficult feat. She sat sideways, bolt upright, scarcely daring to move lest she should slip off, but triumphant and smiling.
"He's the steadiest old donkey I know!" she cried gaily. "There! See how easy it is! Let him go now, Dick! Gee up, Neddy!"
The donkey paced solemnly around the field to Ruth's intense enjoyment. Suddenly he paused, seemed to think matters over, and then began to kick. Ruth uttered a shrill scream as she was pitched into a bramble-bush in the hedgerow; and Dick rushed towards her with a wildly beating heart, and a face from which all the colour had fled.
"Oh, Ruth, are you hurt?" he cried, as he assisted her to get up, and disentangled her skirts from the brambles. He gazed with dismay at a scratch on her cheek, and another on her nose, and tenderly wiped away the blood with his own handkerchief. "Oh, I'm afraid you are hurt!"
For a few minutes Ruth scarcely realised what her injuries were, but after she had given herself a shake which appeared to reassure her, she declared herself unharmed except for her scratched face.
"I'm sure I don't know what they'll say at the Manor House!" she exclaimed dolefully. "That wretched donkey! And I thought him so good-tempered! Do I look an awful sight?"
"Well, yes, you look pretty bad!" Dick answered truthfully.
"Oh dear! Lionel's sure to laugh at me! He always does whenever he gets a chance! I shall never have anything to do with Neddy again, and I meant to bring him some carrots to-morrow!"
The donkey had retreated to a distance, where he was calmly nibbling the grass. Ruth cast a resentful glance in his direction, but wisely took no further notice of him. The children climbed over the gate, and stood talking a few minutes in the road before they parted.
"What are you going to do this afternoon?" Ruth enquired.
"I think I shall go down on the beach and see what has happened to the cliffs," Dick replied.
"Perhaps I'll come too! I will if I can! Shall we explore, and try to find the secret passage? Lionel would be so surprised if we did! Oh, it would be splendid!"
"So it would!" Dick agreed. "But I'm afraid it won't be much good our searching!"
"Oh, but do let us! Anyway, I'll bring Nero, and we'll have fine fun with him. If you're on the beach first you must wait for me, and if I'm there first I'll wait for you."
"Very well. I'll come if I can. I hope your face does not hurt you much?" —and Dick regarded his cousin's disfigured countenance with real concern.
"Oh, no!" she responded, squinting in a vain attempt to look at the scratch on her nose, "nothing to speak of! I wonder if grandfather will want to know what I've been doing; if he does, I think I shall tell him, because he likes us to speak out, and if he asks you, you'll be sure to tell the truth."
"Why, of course," Dick returned; "you wouldn't wish me to tell a lie, would you?"
"No; but you might say I fell into a bramble-bush and scratched my face, without saying the donkey pitched me there."
"That would be only part of the truth," Dick objected, looking decidedly uneasy.
"Well, you needn't bother, I'm going to tell about the donkey," Ruth assured him, "and if grandfather is angry, I can't help it. I hope, though, he won't make me stay indoors this afternoon; and I must manage to get away from Lionel. Come down on the beach as early as you can!"
Dick said he would; and after that the two children went their separate ways. Going up the village street Dick overtook Granfer Cole, who had spent his morning on the beach, having had a most pleasant and exciting time in recounting his experiences of storms of bygone years to an admiring audience.
"I never saw one to beat last night's gale," he told Dick. "To think that the east cliff is gone! Dear, dear! I mind when I was a youngster how I used to go shrimping around the rocks that way at low tide, and what a powerful lot of shrimps I used to catch!"
"Do you think it likely that there is an entrance to the secret passage in that direction?" Dick questioned eagerly.
Granfer reflected in silence for a moment, then he replied,—
"Well, I should say it was probable. The east cliff was in a line with the Manor House, and nearer than any other part of the coast would be. Are you still hoping to find the secret passage, young gentleman?"
"Oh, yes! I daresay if it had not been for my cousin Lionel's accident we should have found it long ago! I've looked for it by myself, often; and now my cousin Ruth is going to help me. She only a girl, but she's a very nice sort of girl, with plenty of pluck."
Granfer nodded his head, and chuckled with amusement. Dick proceeded:—
"She can play cricket, and run nearly as fast as Lionel could before his accident, and climb like a cat, and shy stones—yes, I do believe better than I can; and I think she's about as brave as a girl can be. Why, only just now, she was kicked off a donkey's back into a bramble-bush, and she never even cried, although her face was badly scratched."
"What donkey was it?" Granfer enquired in his inquisitive fashion.
"A donkey belonging to an old woman who sells scrubbing-sand. It is in a field not far from the lodge of the Manor House."
"Ah, you mean a meadow adjoining the cliffs. I know the field, and I know the donkey, and I know its owner!"
Dick laughed, for Granfer's tone was quite triumphant. The old man prided himself on his knowledge of the district, and of every one living in the neighbourhood for miles around.
"You must be very tired," the little boy said kindly, as he noted the other's feeble steps, and how heavily he leaned upon his stout stick for support; "it's a pity your way home is all up hill!"
"I'd rather live where I do than anywhere else in the village," Granfer responded contentedly, "for I've plenty of fresh air, and I'm close to the church, so that as long as I can put one step before another I shall be able to go to God's house, and hear His Holy Word. Oh, I've much to be thankful for! But I'm keeping you, young gentleman, so I'll say good-morning!"
"Good-morning, Granfer!" Dick returned blithely.
He hurried home, fearing he was already late, and reached No. 8 Fore Street just as Aunt Mary Ann was taking up her position at the window to watch for his arrival, so as to welcome him with her brightest smile.
"I WONDER if Ruth will be here," thought Dick, as, two hours later, he sat on the edge of a boat on the Holton beach, waiting for his cousin. He shaded his eyes with his hand, for the sun was shining full into his face, and gazed in the direction she would have to come; and then her familiar figure, clad in serviceable blue serge, appeared in sight, accompanied by Nero, and the little boy smiled and drew a breath of relief, for he had feared she might have been prevented from joining him.
"Here I am, you see!" she cried, as she reached him. "Oh, I must rest for a few minutes, I'm fearfully hot, I've been hurrying so!" —and she sat down by his side, thereby nearly upsetting the boat.
"Oh, do be careful!" he expostulated.
"All right, I will! Isn't the sun warm for the last day of October?" She pushed back the scarlet jelly-bag cap she wore from her forehead, and glanced around appreciatively as she continued: "How quiet it all is! The sea is quite calm, I declare! Well, Dick, I had no difficulty in getting away, as it happened; after luncheon I just slipped out of the house without anyone being the wiser."
"Oughtn't you to have let Aunt Arabella know where you were going?" he asked, a trifle uneasily.
She shrugged her shoulders, and shook her fair head, her blue eyes gleaming mischievously.
"I told how the donkey kicked me off his back," she remarked. "Lionel said it served me right for being a tomboy; and mother said she didn't know, she was sure, how her daughter could be such a hoyden, and she wondered I hadn't been killed; and grandfather said what was no good never came to harm—I don't think he quite meant that!"
"Then grandfather wasn't angry?"
"Not a bit. He told mother the scratches on my face were only skin deep, and she needn't worry. She was fussy, you know; it's her way!"
Dick was fondling Nero, who was standing by his side, smiling up into his face with watchful amber eyes. The great dog was wagging his tail good-humouredly; perhaps he, as well as the children, anticipated an enjoyable afternoon.
"Did you have any difficulty in getting away?" Ruth enquired.
"Oh, no! Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus let me go wherever I please now, alone!"
"That's the best of being a boy! Just because I'm a girl mother's always telling me not to do this, and not to do that, and not to tear my clothes, or get untidy! She even grumbles about the freckles on the bridge of my nose—as though they mattered! Really it's too bad! What are you going to do first this afternoon?"
"Suppose we walk along the beach towards where the cliff was washed away?" Dick suggested.
"Very well. I'm cooler now, and ready to start."
Accordingly they rose, and strolled along, keeping close to the water's edge, occasionally pausing to throw stones into the sea for Nero to fetch. There were only a few fishermen on the beach, mending their nets and overhauling their gear, who looked up from their work now and again to watch the children; but by-and-by the two young figures with their black attendant disappeared from sight beyond the big rocks which strewed the shore.
"Oh, I say, what a change!" Dick exclaimed, as they came within view of the spot where the headland had jutted out from the cliffs, and they saw with their own eyes the damage the waves had wrought during the night.
The beach at that point was covered with rocks of various sizes, so that they were obliged to proceed slowly, skirting some, clambering over others, and laughing merrily at every slight accident in the shape of slips and falls, which damaged their clothes but did not impair their high spirits.
"It is great fun!" Ruth cried, in accents of delight. "What a jolly time we're having! I suppose," she continued a little nervously, "that the sea is really going out? We should be in a dreadful plight if it was coming in, and we were caught by the tide!"
"There's no danger of that," Dick replied; "it won't be low water for two hours yet. I'm certain, because I asked a fisherman, and he would be sure to know."
"Look at this lovely anemone!" Ruth said, going down on her knees, the better to gaze into the depths of a little pool between two rocks. "Isn't it a beauty?"
"Yes," agreed Dick; "but how about the secret passage? We ought to be looking for that!"
The little girl sprang to her feet, and they went further up the beach, and began to search around the base of the cliffs in hopes of finding an opening somewhere, but all to no purpose.
"It is just here where the east cliff was," Dick remarked, as he glanced up at the precipitous face of the cliffs. He had scrambled to the top of a large rock as he was speaking, and before Ruth had time to answer he slipped off the other side, and disappeared from sight. She laughed gaily, and waited for him to reappear; but instead of climbing up again he called to her in excited tones,—
"Ruth, Ruth, come here! Don't climb over the rock! See if you can't come round!"
She obeyed, and found there was about space enough to squeeze herself between the rock and the cliff. Dick caught her by the hand as she joined him, and pointed to a large opening like a yawning cavern in the face of the cliff.
"The secret passage!" he cried. "Oh Ruth, it must be the secret passage!"
"Oh, do you think it can be? How glad I am! I never thought we should find it, really! How lucky you slipped like that! But you don't want to go in, do you? Oh, I couldn't! It's so dark, and we don't know what might be there!"
"I don't suppose there is anything there that would hurt us," Dick replied—he had no intention of exploring further, however; "but I think we had better go back and let grandfather know what we have discovered before we say a word about it to any one else."
"Oh, yes! Don't let us waste our time here! I'm sure this is one of the entrances to the secret passage! I wonder why it was never found before!"
"Don't you understand, Ruth. The sea washed away the east cliff last night, and the entrance must have been hidden in it somewhere. The passage hasn't always been open!"
"How stupid of me not to think of that! Come, Dick, let us get back to Holton as soon as we can!"
They squeezed their way between the rock and the cliff, and began to retrace their footsteps; but it seemed as though they were returning at a much slower rate than they had come. At last Ruth suggested that if they went nearer the water's edge it would be easier getting along, as the beach was less rocky away from the cliffs. Accordingly they did so, much to the satisfaction of Nero, who waded in and out of the sea, and persisted in shaking himself every time he came close to his companions.
"Supposing it shouldn't be the secret passage after all; how Lionel will laugh at us!" Ruth said, her bright face clouding slightly. "I vote we don't tell him anything about it before we've spoken to grandfather!"
"All right, we won't! But I think it must be the secret passage; if not, it's a cave of some sort. Look, Ruth, there's a boat anchored on the beach just ahead of us. I didn't notice it as we came; that was because we were keeping under the cliffs, I suppose. Oh, I know whose it is!" the boy continued, as they reached it; "it's Jim Cole's! Jim lives in a little cottage above that steep, zig-zag path cut in the cliff; I went there once with Uncle Theophilus when Mrs. Cole was ill. Isn't it a jolly boat?"
"Yes," Ruth responded thoughtfully. "Can you row, Dick?"
"I should think I can! I have taken an oar many times lately when I've been boating with Uncle Theophilus!"
"Oh, then, do let us borrow Jim Cole's boat and row back to Holton! I'm sure he wouldn't mind lending it to us! Think what fun it would be!"
"I can't row with two oars," Dick was reluctantly obliged to acknowledge.
"You can take one oar, and I'll take the other. I am sure we can manage very well like that. You're not afraid, are you?"
"Oh, no; but—"
"Did Miss Warren or Dr. Warren say you were not to go in a boat?"
"No; but—"
"Oh, Dick, do stop saying 'but!' It's so stupid of you! I'm tired of walking on the sand and climbing over rocks, and we can row back to Holton in no time. Help me to get up the anchor."
It was fixed much more firmly than Ruth had anticipated; but after several futile attempts they succeeded in freeing it from the ground, and placed it in the bottom of the boat, then, the beach sloping towards the sea, they had no difficulty in pushing the boat itself into the water.
"Get in quickly, Ruth!" Dick cried, his scruples as to the wisdom of the step they were taking having completely vanished.
She obeyed, and sank, laughing gleefully, upon a seat, whilst the boy sprang in after her, and standing upright, pushed the boat off from the shore with an oar.
"Now we're off!" said Ruth. "Look at Nero! He doesn't like being left behind! Oh, I hope he won't try to come with us and upset us!"
The faithful animal was not so foolish as that, however, although he distinctly objected to the doings of his companions. He followed the boat into deep water, and swam around it several times in evident distress, his eyes full of reproach and trouble. At length he went ashore, and sitting down on his haunches—a miserable dripping figure—set up a most mournful howl.
"Poor old fellow!" exclaimed Dick pityingly. "It's a shame for us to leave him there! Let us put back, and walk home."
"Oh, no, no!" Ruth objected, "he'll follow on shore."
They each took an oar and commenced to pull, but scarcely made any progress at all.
"You don't keep stroke with me," Dick said at length, "and sometimes your oar misses the water. Presently you'll catch a crab, if you aren't careful!"
"I'm no more likely to catch crabs than you are," retorted Ruth rather crossly, for she was growing hot, and her arms were aching already; "let us wait a short while and rest!"
"All right!" Dick agreed readily, rather pleased at the suggestion, for his arms too were beginning to tire.
After a few minutes they started afresh. They rowed in a most erratic manner, and Ruth was heartily wishing they had never seen the boat, when Dick's prediction proved true; she caught a crab, and lost her oar.
"Oh, dear," she cried, clasping her hands in despair, "whatever shall I do?"
"We can't get it again," Dick told her gloomily, as he watched the oar floating far beyond reach, "and I'm sure I don't know what we're going to do. I can't get the boat ashore!"
"Then we shall drift out to sea!" Ruth exclaimed in a frightened tone, looking wildly around, and noting that the short October afternoon was closing in. "Oh, look at Nero," she continued, "he's running up and down the beach now, and howling louder than ever. Whatever shall we do, Dick?"
"We can't do anything," he answered in tragic accents; "it will be dark soon, and—and—"
His voice faltered, and he turned his face away that Ruth might not see his eyes were misty. He was terribly alarmed, and his companion was no less so. She cautiously stole to his side, and they anxiously scanned the shore in hopes of seeing a human form; but only Nero was in sight, and his howls were becoming more and more indistinct. They were drifting out to sea, for the tide had not yet turned. In the far distance were the sails of a few fishing smacks' but there was no boat they could possibly hail.
"We shall be drowned," Ruth said, beginning to sob. "I—I know we shall be drowned! Oh, it's awful, awful!"
"Don't cry, please don't cry," Dick implored piteously, struggling hard to keep back his own tears. "Perhaps God won't let us be drowned. You know, Ruth, God's here in this boat," he proceeded more bravely, as the thought brought comfort with it, "and we mustn't be afraid."
"But I am afraid, Dick! Don't you see the sun has set, and the light's going? It'll be dark soon!"
"Yes, but the night is the same as the day to God, Ruth. Don't let us be more frightened than we can help."
There was a brief silence. The children sat hand in hand, watching the shadows deepening under the cliffs, and the mist creeping over the sea. Dick thought of his parents in India, and wondered if he would ever see them again; then he prayed fervently to God for help, and tried to encourage his cousin not to give up hope.
"If we drift far out to sea perhaps a trawler will pick us up," he suggested, "or perhaps Jim Cole will miss his boat, and—"
"Oh, Dick, it's no good talking like that! I'm sure we shall be drowned!"
"Oh, no! In the morning—"
"We shall be dead by then," she interrupted, "dead of cold!" —and she shivered, and wept without restraint. "I wish I was a better girl," she said presently, wiping away her tears, "but I've always been naughty. I don't speak the truth like you do, Dick. I tell fibs—not great big lies, but little silly fibs; and I don't obey mother, though I know I ought; and I'm altogether nasty, I think!"
"I'm sure you're not," Dick replied earnestly. "You're not a bit nasty, and you tell the truth much oftener than you used—you told about the donkey this morning, you know."
"I am so glad I did! Do you think God will forgive me for all the wrong things I've done, if I tell Him how sorry I am?"
"Of course He will! I'd tell Him at once if I were you!"
There was another short silence. It was now almost dark, but it was a wonderfully peaceful evening—the calm after a storm. The children were utterly unconscious of the direction in which the boat was drifting. Ruth had ceased crying, though she could not prevent an occasional sob breaking from her lips. Dick was exceedingly sorry for her, and he was sorry for himself too; he did not talk because he was afraid his voice might betray the emotion he bravely restrained.
At length, when they had both made up their minds that it was useless hoping to be rescued from their harrowing position that night, they heard men's voices shouting, and presently a light glimmered at no great distance away.
"Oh, look, look!" cried Ruth excitedly, springing to her feet.
"Sit down," Dick said nervously, "or you'll upset us!"
She obeyed, whilst they both strained their eyes through the gloom, and saw that the light was coming nearer and nearer.
"It's a boat," Dick declared; "yes, I'm certain it's a boat. We shall be saved! Let us shout as loud as ever we can!"
They did so, and were answered immediately; a few minutes later a large boat came alongside, into which Ruth and Dick were carefully lifted by a couple of strong fishermen, whilst Jim Cole's little craft was taken in tow.
"Who's that?" whispered Ruth to Dick, glancing at a third figure seated in the bow; "why, I do believe it's grandfather!"
It was indeed Sir Richard Gidley. He drew his grandchildren towards him, and placed an arm around each.
"Thank God you are both safe," he said gravely, and there was the sound of strong repressed emotion in his deep voice. Until then they had not realised he loved them so well.
"THIS is winter at last!" said Miss Warren, as she stood at the sitting-room window on the afternoon subsequent to Ruth and Dick's boating experience, and looked out on the driving rain which was flooding the gutters in the deserted street. "I thought this morning the weather was going to change again; one seldom has two days following as fine as yesterday, at this time of the year."
Dick, who had been sitting by the fire, gazing thoughtfully into the glowing coals, jumped up from his chair, and ran to the window to look out.
"I had no idea it was raining like this!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Aunt Mary Ann, I wonder if grandfather has found out yet whether it was really the secret passage we discovered? We told him about it last night, and he said he'd see to it! I do think he's much nicer and better-tempered than he used to be!"
"I believe you gave him a terrible fright," Miss Warren said gravely.
"I believe we did," Dick answered, "but we did not mean to! I told him how sorry we were, and—I suppose we were very foolish—it was all on account of Ruth's losing her oar! And if it had not been for dear old Nero, grandfather would never have seen us at all!"
"How was that?" Miss Warren enquired. "I thought Sir Richard saw you from the cliff path?"
"Yes; he told us all about it as the fishermen rowed us home. Aunt Arabella was worried because she did not know where Ruth had gone, and grandfather remembered what she had told them about the donkey at luncheon, and thought perhaps she had gone to try and ride Neddy again. So he went to look for her; and when he found she wasn't with the donkey he walked a little way on the cliff path till he heard a dog howling. He felt quite certain it was Nero, because he knew his voice, so he looked over the cliffs, and saw us in the boat drifting out to sea. Then he hurried down to the village, got a boat, and found us!" —Dick concluded, with a sob at the remembrance of the terrible position he and his little cousin had been in.
"Oh, Dick!" Miss Warren cried, "I shudder to think of what might have been! Thank God I did not know of your danger!"
"You went to look for me, didn't you, Aunt Mary Ann?"
"Yes, my dear, when it became quite dark and you had not come home I naturally grew anxious. I made enquiries for you in the village first, and by the time I reached the beach you were on the point of landing. Sir Richard asked me not to scold you, and I gave him my word I would not. I hope you will never be so foolhardy again!"
"I never will! Poor old Nero! How glad he was to see us! Did you see him on the beach waiting for us, Aunt Mary Ann? Oh, here comes the gig!"
"Theophilus will be in good time for tea," said Miss Warren, as she turned from the window and bustled into the hall to meet her brother.
She assisted him to remove his dripping overcoat, and then followed him into the sitting-room, shook up the cushions of his favourite easy-chair, and poked the coals into a blaze.
"Well, Dick," the doctor said as he sat down, and extended his chilled hands to the fire, "you look none the worse for your experience of yesterday. So you and that mischievous young cousin of yours actually did find the secret passage, it seems."
"What!" cried Dick. "Do you mean it, Uncle Theophilus? How do you know?"
"I will explain. I thought I would call at the Manor House to satisfy myself that Lionel continues to progress as he should, and to enquire for your companion in misfortune, Dick."
"Ah, how is the poor little girl?" Miss Warren interposed.
"As lively as a cricket. I found Sir Richard had been absent all the morning, and had only then returned; he greeted me with the news that the secret passage had been found, and that, in company with several fishermen and Groves, he had traversed the distance from the spot where the east cliff once stood to the Manor House, underground."
"Is it possible?" Miss Warren exclaimed incredulously.
"Then we really did find the secret passage!" Dick cried, his eyes shining brightly, his whole countenance glowing with gratification.
"You really did. It is in excellent preservation, Sir Richard says; he and his companions appear to have spent the whole morning in exploring it."
"How could they find their way?" Dick asked. "It looked so awfully dark!"
"They took lanterns, of course."
"Did they find anything, Uncle Theophilus—treasures, I mean?"
"No, merely a few casks of wine and brandy at the far end of the passage near the house. Don't you want to know where the other entrance is? Well, I can tell you. When the explorers had walked what seemed an interminable distance to them, but what was really about half a mile, I suppose, they found themselves in a large cellar, in a corner of which was a flight of well-worn stone steps, so narrow as to admit of only one person climbing them at a time. Sir Richard went up first and the others followed. They mounted higher and higher till they came to a heavy oaken door which was wide open, and passing through the doorway, they found themselves in a small, long-ways room furnished with a wooden bedstead, a table, and a single chair. There was a door in the wall of the little room—I don't mean the one leading to the stone steps, but another directly opposite—which, when opened after some difficulty, for it was locked, and had to be forced, revealed what proved to be a huge sheet of canvas framed in wood—apparently the back of a picture." The doctor paused, and glanced from one to the other of his listeners with a smile. They were regarding him with almost breathless interest.
"Well?" said Miss Warren eagerly.
"Well?" echoed Dick.
"After careful examination Sir Richard discovered a mark like a cross in the wood at the bottom of the canvas; he pressed it with his finger, and so must have touched a hidden spring, for immediately the great sheet of canvas silently slid to one side, leaving an aperture in the wall through which Sir Richard stepped, and found himself in the picture-gallery of his own house!"
"Theophilus!" cried Miss Warren incredulously, whilst Dick was struck silent with astonishment.
"Yes; the secret passage leads from the sea-shore to the Manor House," Dr. Warren said impressively, "where the entrance is hidden by the picture of Paul Gidley, the martyr. I saw the little room behind the picture myself this afternoon, and Sir Richard wants you to see it too, Mary Ann. Don't you think you might call at the Manor House to-morrow?"
"I?" cried Miss Warren, flushing hotly. "Impossible, Theophilus! You cannot wish it!"
"Indeed I do! Why is it impossible?" her brother asked gently. "Shall you never visit your niece when she and her husband return from India? They are to make their home at the Manor House, I understand."
"Oh, that alters the case altogether," Miss Warren allowed. "I should like to see the Manor House; and I like Mrs. Compton. If Sir Richard wishes it, I will certainly call!"
Dick could talk of nothing but the secret passage during tea-time; he asked his uncle scores of questions, but the doctor had told all there was to tell.
The following day the little boy accompanied his aunt to the Manor House, where every one was so pleased to see Miss Warren, and made so much of her, that her bright face simply beamed with radiant smiles. She was shown the picture-gallery, and the little room which the martyr's picture had hidden so many years, and peeped down the steep stone steps built in the thickness of the wall.
Although Dick had really been the one to find the secret passage, Ruth took more than her share of the honour and glory, as her brother did not fail to remind her; he was rather vexed himself at not having had anything to do with the discovery.
That first visit of Miss Warren's to the Manor House quite broke down the barrier which had existed between her and Sir Richard; she was fully satisfied now that the old man had entirely forgiven his son for his marriage.
Mrs. Compton and her children remained with her father until the new year, when they returned to their London home. Sir Richard felt very lonely after his visitors had gone, for the weather was wet and cheerless, and, in consequence, Dick was not continually coming and going between No. 8 Fore Street and the Manor House as he had been in the habit of doing during the time his aunt and cousins had been visiting his grandfather. February, however, brought a change in the weather. Towards the end of the month the heavy rains ceased, and after a few days of genial sunshine, a marked alteration was visible in the dank hedgerows; a faint stir as of coming life murmured through the leafless woods like a whisper of the approaching spring; and with the lengthening days Dick told himself that surely his parents would be coming home soon.
"They are coming! They are coming!" was the joyous refrain continually in his ears; and every time he looked at the old clock in the hall at No. 8 Fore Street, and watched the ship rocking to and fro, he was reminded of the ship which would one day come, bearing his mother and father to him from across the sea.
Dick had been in England now more than a year, and was very different to the forlorn, pale-faced little lad who had been sent home to the tender care of Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus, and whose short stature and delicate appearance had been, at first, such a disappointment to his grandfather. He had grown considerably, his slight frame had become more robust, and with the sea-tan on the firm, round cheeks which had once been so white and thin, he looked a picture of perfect health.
He spent most of the summer days out-of-doors, in the woods, or on the beach, where he fraternised with the fishermen, and with his knickerbockers tucked up to his thighs, put in long delightful hours shrimping between the rocks. Then, in August, Mrs. Compton with Ruth and Lionel again arrived at the Manor House, and Dick had congenial companions once more to share in his amusements.
Ruth was as great a hoyden as ever, and hated to be outdone by the boys, following their lead in every way. Lionel had certainly improved; he was less domineering, and his accident the preceding year had taught him the lesson of obedience, which he had failed to learn before. Both Ruth and Lionel were looking forward to the return of Uncle Richard and his wife, whilst their mother was thankful peace had been restored between her father and brother, and was not a little curious to meet her sister-in-law. Meanwhile, Dick was almost sick at heart with waiting; it seemed as though his parents would never come!
* * * * * *
"Grandfather has gone to London on most important business," Lionel announced one morning, as he and Ruth called for Dick at No. 8 Fore Street. "He went last night, but we expect him back this evening in time for dinner; mother says he will be sure to come because Dr. and Miss Warren have promised to dine with us. Mother sends her love to Miss Warren, and wants her to allow you to spend the day with Ruth and me!"
Aunt Mary Ann willingly gave her permission to this arrangement, and Dick went off with his cousins. First they visited the post-office, where Lionel had a commission to execute for his mother, and where they were asked by Miss Tidy when Dick's parents were expected.
"I don't know," said Dick, shaking his head a little dolefully, and sighing; "they didn't say anything about coming the last time they wrote."
"Oh, they'll be here soon now, you may depend!" the post-mistress declared, and Dick felt he quite loved her for saying it, and smiled as he met the kindly gleam of her round green eyes.
From the post-office they repaired to the beach, where they found Granfer Cole in conversation with his grandson Jim. Whenever the old man saw Dick he brought up the subject of the secret passage, and congratulated him on having been the one to discover it.
"Not that I ever thought you would find it, young gentleman," he said on this occasion, "though I'm mighty pleased that you did, if only to prove that my father knew what he was talking about! There were those who didn't believe in the secret passage at all!"
The children laughed, and sat down on the beach in the sunshine to talk; but Ruth and Lionel had most of the conversation.
"It's very queer," said Dick presently, "I don't seem able to think of any one but mother and father to-day; I suppose it's because I dreamt of them last night; it was so long ago I saw them!"
"I believe you're awfully fond of them, aren't you, Dick?" said Ruth seriously.
"Of course I am!"
"You always want to do what you think they'd like," Ruth continued; "grandfather says you're a true soldier's son, because you speak the truth, and know how to obey!"
Dick flushed with pleasure, for to his mind this was highest praise. He thought of his first night In England, when he had been so very low-spirited and unhappy, and Uncle Theophilus had succeeded in raising his British pluck.
"Grandfather likes people to tell the truth," Lionel remarked gravely; "I've got on with him much better since I found out that he'd rather one spoke out to him. He hates liars!"
"So does father!" Dick replied. "He says they're always mean, cowardly sort of people."
"I haven't told even a little fib since Dick and I were nearly drowned," Ruth chimed in.
"You weren't nearly drowned," Lionel expostulated.
"We might have been nearly drowned," Ruth persisted. "I am sure something dreadful would have happened to us if it hadn't been for Nero! We should have died of cold! At any rate, I told God then I'd turn over a new leaf, and be a better girl, and I'm trying. When I remember how I cried, and what a coward I was, I feel so ashamed of myself! I wonder what grandfather has gone to London for," she proceeded with a sudden change of tone; "I believe mother knows, because when I asked her she told me not to keep on worrying her with questions, and that was the first question I had asked!"
The others laughed at the aggrieved expression on the little girl's face; they did not feel so curious about Sir Richard's business as she did.
"He left in a very good temper," remarked Lionel carelessly; "but I haven't the least idea why he's gone! He'll be home about six this evening."
After a little further conversation the young people rose, and turned their footsteps towards the Manor House, dawdling on the way to pluck and eat the blackberries which grew on the brambles by the roadside. Mrs. Groves, portly as ever, came out of the lodge to exchange a few words with them, and to inquire what time Sir Richard would return; perhaps she was wondering, too, what the most important business was which had necessitated this journey to London.
The children spent the afternoon in the gardens; and about five o'clock Dr. Warren and his sister arrived—the latter all in a flutter, gowned in her best silk dress, with the daintiest of ruffles at neck and wrists, and with her fine colour a little brighter than usual.
By-and-by a fact dawned on the boys which Ruth had discerned earlier in the day—that their elders all seemed in a state of subdued expectancy and excitement. Mrs. Compton and Miss Warren were holding a conversation in lowered voices in the drawing-room, whilst the doctor was wandering aimlessly about the hall, examining the guns and weapons which ornamented the walls as carefully as though he had never seen them in his life before.
Suddenly Ruth put her fair head around the dining-room door and called to the boys, who were passing the time by sliding down the bannisters.
"Come and look at the dinner-table," she said; "it's simply lovely! Mother has done all the decorations herself—yellow chrysanthemums, and maiden-hair fern! But I can't make it out—the table is laid for too many people!"
"Oh, nonsense!" Dr. Warren cried hastily. "There's no time for you to waste in looking at the dinner-table now, boys! Run upstairs, and brush your hair, and wash your hands! Quick! Your grandfather will be here very soon!"
Lionel and Dick obeyed, racing each other up the broad staircase, whilst Ruth prepared to argue the point with the doctor as to whether or not the table was laid for the right number.
"My dear little girl," he told her kindly, "you may depend upon it, it is all right."
Presently the sound of carriage-wheels was heard, and Mrs. Compton and Miss Warren hurried into the hall, whilst the servants appeared in the background, and the boys came running noisily down the stairs. Every one was evidently on the tiptoe of excitement; it certainly seemed somewhat strange that so much to do should be made simply because the master of the house was returning from a short journey.
Susan Morecombe it was who flung open the great front door as the carriage drew up; and the children pressed forward; then paused, transfixed with astonishment. Dick started violently as his eyes rested on the figure seated on the box seat beside Groves—a figure he had never seen in English costume before, but nevertheless one that he recognised at once. It was Nanukchund. The little boy stood spell-bound. He felt for one brief moment as though he must be dreaming, for how was it possible Nanukchund could actually be here? Then his gaze slowly turned from the Hindoo's solemn countenance to the other occupants of the carriage. There was his grandfather looking unusually pleased and glad, and by his side some one with the dearest sweetest face in the world, who was smiling at him through a mist of tears; and opposite was a handsome, soldierly-looking man, bending forward hurriedly to open the carriage door.
Dick uttered a cry which expressed all the yearning passionate love of his heart, and ran forward just as his father sprang out of the carriage. Captain Gidley caught his little son in his arms, and kissed him again and again, whilst Sir Richard courteously assisted his daughter-in-law to alight. She was pale, and trembling with joy, as Dick turned from his father to her; but the colour returned to her cheeks as she felt his warm kisses, and heard his whispered greeting: "Oh, mother, at last, at last!"
Afterwards, Dick had a dim remembrance of Aunt Mary Ann in tears, and Uncle Theophilus patting her encouragingly on the back; of his grandfather standing very upright in the doorway with a wonderfully softened expression on his face; of his father and Aunt Arabella kissing each other; and of Ruth and Lionel apparently enjoying the scene; but at the time he was only fully conscious of a great happiness, a wonderful contentment that no words could adequately express. His cup of joy was full to overflowing now that his father and mother had come home.
What glorious days followed! Dick had so many experiences to relate, so much to tell concerning the past eventful months of separation from his parents, that it was a wonder his tongue did not weary of talking. Henceforward his home was to be at the Manor House, an arrangement which pleased every one, even Dr. and Miss Warren, though they missed their little nephew sadly, and felt very lonely after he had left them; but the latter found comfort in the thought that the room which he had occupied at No. 8 Fore Street, and which had been his mother's before him, could still be called his, and kept in readiness if he should, at any time, require it.
Mrs. Compton and her children made a lengthened stay at the Manor House; and the unhappy breach in the family which Captain Gidley's marriage had made was quite healed. It was impossible to live under the same roof long with Dick's mother, and not like her. Sir Richard had prepared himself to tolerate her presence; but he had not known her many days before he found himself seeking her society; and understanding the love with which her husband and little son regarded her. He began to listen with pleasure to her light footsteps moving about the house; to smile at the sound of her merry laugh; and to think her voice one of the sweetest he had ever heard. He never told any one that he approved of her in so many words, but on one occasion when a servant came to him for an order, she was referred to Mrs. Gidley.
"Go and ask Mrs. Gidley; she is mistress here," Sir Richard said briefly, and it was then understood that for the future he intended his son's wife to rule over his establishment; and she forthwith took the reins of government into her hands, to the satisfaction of all.
Some of Sir Richard's acquaintances shook their heads forbodingly when they heard of this arrangement, thinking it hardly possible the arbitrary old man would be content not to interfere with his daughter-in-law's management; but they were surprised to find that he continued quite satisfied with everything she did, and upheld her authority in the household, invariably remarking when she appealed to him for an opinion upon any matter: "Please yourself, my dear, then you will please me!"
So there was happiness within the walls of the Manor House—such happiness as the master had never thought possible for him till Dick had been sent home from India to unconsciously make peace, and pave the way for his parents' return; and there was happiness at No. 8 Fore Street too, where the kind, unselfish hearts of Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus rejoiced with those they loved. This satisfactory state of affairs continued, and the tie which bound the two households together became so firmly rivetted that ere long it was seldom remembered it had ever been otherwise; Dick felt he had nothing left to wish for, which blissful state of mind he one day confided to his grandfather, who, though he made no reply in words, smiled with gratification, realising he could truthfully echo the little boy's sentiment. After years of discontent spent in nursing his unforgiving spirit, Sir Richard Gidley's proud heart had softened; and he, too, had found happiness at last.