Bluebell Part 40

Now, the good skipper, such an autocrat on board his vessel, was by no means so under his own roof-tree, and sundry misgivings obtruded themselves as to the welcome he might receive from the wife of his bosom when a comely young lady was to be included in it.

"She'll no jeest like it at first," he muttered, half aloud; and as the moment approached and apprehension intensified, he repeated the remark still louder.

This moderate expectation was amply justified by the event. The good lady received the explanatory introduction with a snort, and a countenance expressive of contempt and disbelief, while she ironically "feared there would be nothing in the house good enough for her."

Bluebell endeavoured to excuse her unlucky presence, the best argument she could think of being that she would advertise for another situation immediately. Only for the fear of offending the captain, she would have added that she was prepared to pay for her board, which, by putting it on a business footing, would doubtless have commended itself to the dominant pa.s.sion of her hostess's mind, and dispersed the misgivings she at present entertained of this "fine madam."

The general stiffness was relieved by the boisterous greetings of the captain's boys, who had just rushed in from school; but it was a terrible evening to Bluebell, feeling _de trop_, and unable to calculate how soon she should be released.

"Ye'll jeest put her in Phemie's room," the skipper had said. (Phemie was a daughter lately married.) "How will I do that," was the responding retort, "when the carpet is up, and the iron bedstead was broke by Rab a week syne?"

"Well, then, Rab will jeest let her have his bed," said the captain, equably brewing himself some whiskey-and-water,--and so on through the evening, during which Mrs. Davidson by no means softened the trouble and inconvenience Bluebell's presence occasioned, whose spirits fell to their lowest depth.

Was it to be wondered at that Harry Dutton recurred pretty constantly to her mind? She could think calmly now of the proposal that had so startled her before. It was, at any rate, a sincere, straightforward offer of marriage, and so far he contrasted favourably with Bertie, whom she had determined to forget. But, then, she had dismissed him--he had gone away to his uncle's, and they would probably never meet again; and as when a thing is out of reach it becomes immediately enhanced in value, she began to regret her lost lover, and to think that there, perhaps, might have been a short cut out of her difficulties. We are aware that this unlucky admission must depose her at once from the rank of a heroine, as it is well known a heroine never for an instant suffers interest to enter into the sacred claims of love.

CHAPTER XXIX.

BLUEBELL'S DEBUT IN THE OLD COUNTRY.

Says "Be content my lovely May, For thou shalt be my bride."

With her yellow hair, that glittered fair, She dried the trickling tear, And sighed the name of Branxholm's heir, The youth that she loved dear.

--Scott.

Next morning Bluebell rose early, and wrote out an advertis.e.m.e.nt, in which she described herself, more truthfully, than diplomatically, as a young person of eighteen, proficient in music, but not skilled enough in other branches of education for advanced pupils.

The captain promised to write to Mrs. Leighton, reporting her arrival, and explaining that "Miss Leigh would not think of intruding on her in her bereavement, but only requested permission to be allowed to apply to her as a reference when she heard of another situation." He added, "That in the meantime Miss Leigh was remaining in his family."

Armed with the advertis.e.m.e.nt, Bluebell pensively walked off to get it inserted in the _Liverpool Mercury_. The captain lived in a suburb of the town, and had given her clear directions how to find the office. It was a disagreeable walk, and she was obliged to concentrate all her attention on not losing the way, so her thoughts could not well stray to Harry Dutton; but ere she had proceeded many streets--she met him! He was looking very haggard, but eagerness and triumph lighted up his large brown eyes as he perceived her. Bluebell was in a state of half terror, half delight, and whole bewilderment.

"How is it you are still in Liverpool?" she gasped.

"I have been walking about all day in hopes of meeting you!" cried he, disregarding her question.

Bluebell felt as if she had recovered an old friend. She told him of her rough reception by Mrs. Davidson, and how annoyed she was at being forced to remain there an unwelcome guest.

The answer to this was obvious, but the lieutenant would say nothing now to scare her.

"Why we have got to the river," she said, after some unheeded period of eager conversation, "and my advertis.e.m.e.nt! It must be miles from the office!"

"Much too far to go back," said the sailor "Give it me, I will insert it for you."

"Thank you," said the heedless Bluebell. "That will be so much pleasanter, and we need not thread those horrid streets again!"

There was nothing more to do but to go home, and yet she didn't directly.

There would be only Mrs. Davidson in, who was so ungracious and disagreeable, and she lingered half an hour or so, talking to Harry Dutton, who would, perhaps, be gone by to-morrow, but he wasn't, nor the next day, nor the next. They never made any a.s.signations, yet day after day Bluebell met him, and for a brief s.p.a.ce they were together.

Harry Dutton was only twenty-two, he had been at sea all his life, and had never been seriously in love before. But now he had completely lost his head, and all considerations were swept away by this overmastering pa.s.sion, which his knowledge that Bluebell did not fully return only seemed to augment. His uncle was a selfish, exacting old man, but he had been kind enough to this boy who, with the usual ingrat.i.tude of human nature, forgot everything to gratify the fancy of the moment.

Dutton had never been thrown in contact with so pretty a creature, and, notwithstanding the apparent aberration of mind displayed in thus jeopardizing his prospects, laid his plans coolly and cleverly enough.

Bluebell still talked of her impending governess life, and he kept his own council, though firmly resolved never to lose sight of her again.

She was beginning to wonder that her advertis.e.m.e.nts had elicited no replies, and Mrs. Davidson had been especially unpleasant about it, when one day the wished-for letter arrived.

"Mrs. Giles Johnson, having seen 'B.L.'s' advertis.e.m.e.nt in the _Liverpool Mercury_, is requiring such a person to instruct and to take entire charge of the wardrobes of five little girls, one of whom, being nervous, she would be required to sleep with. Mrs. G. J. trusts she is obliging, and would have no objection, when the lady's-maid has a press of work, to a.s.sist her with it, or make herself generally useful in any other way.

'B.L.'s' attainments being apparently limited, and Mrs. Giles Johnson having an abhorrence of music, she can only offer a salary of eighteen pounds a year."

Bluebell alternated between tears and laughter on the perusal of this letter.

"Why, at the Rollestons'," she cried, "I had thirty pounds a year, only Freddy to teach, and did what I liked! But they were friends,"--and a home-sick feeling came over her.

"If ye just turn up your nose at every situation, ye'll never be placed,"

said Mrs. Davidson.

"Oh, perhaps I shall get another letter to-morrow. I would go back to Canada if I had money enough."

Bluebell put on her hat. Whichever way she went she was quite certain of meeting Mr. Dutton, to whom she wished to display this wonderful doc.u.ment. It was all very well to laugh, but it certainly was most discouraging and vexatious. Yet Mr. Dutton, when she saw him, gravely affirmed it to be "quite as good an offer as he had expected, and was only surprised at her getting any answers at all,"--which well indeed he might be, considering that the advertis.e.m.e.nt never appeared in any paper, and that the liberal proposals of Mrs. Giles Johnson were an emanation from his own brain.

He proceeded to relate the most uncomfortable anecdotes of governess life in England, making it appear that they were treated like white slaves, and expected to know everything.

Bluebell, though only half believing it, began seriously to question whether her small attainments were saleable at all. Her friend the captain would go to sea again shortly, and having prevailed on Mrs.

Davidson to receive a small contribution towards her board, the ten pounds were dwindling away.

Then, when she was reduced to the depths of perplexity and depression, Harry Dutton cautiously pleaded his cause, and, as a strong will bent on one object will always sway an irresolute mind, Bluebell listened, and for once tried to realize what it would be. She had been frightened at Dutton's precipitancy in the first instance; but now he had become in a manner necessary to her, and she certainly liked him,--immensely. Still, of course, after her experience of the _grande pa.s.sion_, this mere _entente cordiale_ could not be mistaken for the real article. But there was another question: had she not, by meeting him so often, given him a right so to speak, with fair expectation of success? She had heedlessly walked into the snare with her eyes open, and felt no resisting power to break through the mesh of circ.u.mstances that environed her.

Bluebell wavered and hesitated. Harry followed up his advantage. Ere a few stars twinkled out, "single spies" on their colloquy, the struggle was over, and the bold wooer had extorted from his _fiancee_ a promise to marry him the following morning but one at a register office in Liverpool.

The very next day they would probably not meet, as he had everything to arrange, and also to prepare a lodging for her, for they had determined to leave Liverpool immediately afterwards.

One thing only Bluebell retained her firmness sufficiently to stipulate for, which was, that the kind old captain should be told of it. Mr.

Dutton agreed, on condition that she did not breathe a syllable till after their marriage, when he promised to write himself and acquaint the skipper.

Bluebell could scarcely trust herself to think as she walked slowly home.

She felt quite reckless, and as though she were fated to do this act, that seemed so desperate. What would all her friends in Canada say?

Somehow she did not look forward to telling the news to Mrs. Rolleston.

She supposed Cecil would be pleased, and it might clear up matters between her and Bertie. Ah! if it were only him she was going to be married to! Why does one always like the wicked ones best? She wished to imagine him desperate, remorseful, beside himself with jealousy. But she knew that would not be so. At the utmost he would, perhaps, toss off a brandy-and-soda, give a tremendous sigh, and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e, "Ah! poor, dear little Bluebell!" and then reflect that he would rather like to meet her again, when there would be no question of marrying--the only thing he was unprepared to do for her.

From which tolerably accurate surmise our reader will perceive that our heroine has rather come on in penetration since we first presented her fresh and verdant in these pages.

Then she thought of her mother, and how disappointed she would be at not being present at the marriage. She had written to her on landing, but this letter had been posted in Ireland. Since then she had acquainted her with the facts of Evelyn's death, and of her own exertions to obtain another situation, lodging in the mean time with Mrs. Davidson.

On her re-appearance Bluebell was received somewhat coldly by the old captain, who asked her where she could find to walk so long every day. It was very disagreeable having to answer evasively, and he did not appear satisfied--on the contrary, eyed her askance all the evening.

The reason was, he had accidentally observed Mr. Dutton coming out of an hotel, and was unable to conjecture what kept him in Liverpool, unless he were lingering there on Bluebell's account. Connecting this with her frequent absence from home, he began to think it time to be relieved from the responsibility of this dangerous young guest. He did not reveal his suspicions to his wife, but the following day kept something of a watch over her, and proposed himself to accompany her out.

Somewhat surprised by the placid grat.i.tude of her reply, his suspicions were still further allayed by seeing no sign of the lieutenant, for whom he kept a sharp look-out. He told the girl--narrowly watching her all the time--that there were many snares in Liverpool, and that unless he could see her safely placed in a _feymily_ before the next trip of the "Hyperion," he must arrange with the owners for the pa.s.sage-money, and take her back to her friends, trusting to them to, repay him.