Modern Broods; Or, Developments Unlooked For Part 17

"Qu'allait-il faire dans cette galere?"

FRENCH COMEDY.

Vera's first thorough awakening the next morning was to hear outside the door, "Are you up, Fly?"

"I shall be in a minute or two. Do you want me?"

"You are a dab at parlez-vous. I want you to come ash.o.r.e with me and cater for the starving crew."

"What fun! Anon, anon, Sir!"

Vera then perceived that she had been bestowed in Lady Phyllis'

cabin, and that the proper owner was dressing herself in haste before the little shelf of a toilette table. So great had been the confusion of last night's discovery that the poor silly child had only thought of hurrying out of sight and tumbling into bed without speaking to any one, and she had not distinctly known, when Lady Phyllis came down a good deal later and disposed of herself on the sofa, that Mrs. Griggs had made ready for her. And now the only thing she could think of was to say, "Oh! Lady Phyllis, I didn't know."

"Take care! Don't knock your head! We ought to have remembered that Boreas, or whichever it was, was hardly a sufficient introduction.

Are you all right now? You had better go to sleep again till I bring something to eat. We are lying to off some little Breton fis.h.i.+ng village, and I am going with my brother to get some provisions, and telegraph if we can."

It was long before they came back. Vera had another nap, dressed herself, grew very hungry, and came out to find Lord Rotherwood fis.h.i.+ng, and his daughter-in-law watching for the boat to put out from the white houses with grey roofs, which, cl.u.s.tered round their church-tower, seemed descending to the water's edge. They were equally famished, though Mrs. Griggs stewed up the poor remnants of last night's banquet; but at last the little boat appeared, gaily dancing over the waves, and Phyllis making signals of success.

"Oh, yes, you may be thankful, you poor starving beings! Here, Mrs.

Griggs! Accept, and do all you can! Here are eggs, and some milk and fresh water, four poulets, such as they are, and a huge monster of a crab; but all the bread is leavened, and you little guess what Ivy and I had to go through before we were allowed to buy anything.

We were had up to the Mayor, and had to constater all manner of things about our s.h.i.+p, to prove that we were no smugglers."

"I thought the fat old rogue would have come out to visit the yacht before he would have allowed us a morsel," said Lord Ivinghoe.

"In which case you might have been found a skeleton, father, like Sir Hugh Willoughby! And as to our telegrams, they won't go till the diligence gets to St. Malo, and what they will make of them there is another question. I did not dare to send more than one, for fear they should get mixed up.

Vera heard the joyous chaff as it fluttered round her, not half understanding it any more than if it had been a strange tongue, and not always guessing the cause of the fits of laughter, chiefly at Lord Ivinghoe's misadventures, over which his little sister and his father were well pleased to tease his correctness, and his young wife looked a little hurt at his being tormented. He could not remember that braconnier was a poacher by land, not by sea, and very unnecessarily disclaimed to the Maire being such a thing. His father, he said, "was gentilhomme anglais en--what's a yacht?--yac.

(Nonsense! that's a long-haired ox. No!) Non point contrabandiste, mais galerien dans galere." "And there I interposed," said Phyllis, "for fear we should be boarded as escaped galeriens."

"Why, galley was a pleasure-boat sometimes," said Ivinghoe, and his wife supported him with "Cleopatra's galley."

"Well done, Francie! To your oars for Ivy's defence," said Lord Rotherwood. "How did you defend us, Fly, from being towed into harbour at Brest as runaway convicts?"

"She gabbled away most eloquently to the Maire, almost as fluently as a born French-woman," said Ivinghoe, "and persuaded him at last that it was not necessary to come on board to inspect us, nor even to detain us till he had sent for instructions to St. Malo."

"As Ivy managed matters, I thought we might be kept as hostages,"

said Phyllis.

"But, thanks to her blandishments, the solemn official vouchsafed to send off a messenger for us with a telegram."

"I do not think he sent directions to pursue our suspicious galere,"

added Phyllis; "but I own I shall be glad to be under the lee of old England again."

"What was your telegram?"

"Brevity was safest, nor had we money enough for two; so all I attempted was, 'Delrio to Flight, Rock Quay. Both safe. Picked up by Kittiwake.' I thought that would be the quickest means of relieving anxiety, as we were not sure of other addresses; and as to 'home,' Mamma probably hardly was aware of the storm, or, if she were, she knew the capabilities of yachts and of Griggs."

"Right!" returned his father. "Poor Miss Prescott! she must have given you up for lost. Have you been improving your mind with French telegrams?" he added, turning to Delrio.

"No, my lord, I found my way to the church, a wonderful piece of old Norman!--if it may so be called."

"I see you have been sketching."

Griggs here interposed with tidings that eggs and coffee were ready in the saloon, the worthy pair having had respect to the general famine, and prepared what could be made ready in haste. Those who had eaten ash.o.r.e sat by, making an amusing account of their reception, and difficulties with language and peasants, for, this not being an ordinary place of call, nothing was ready for sale.

Vera, finding herself for the first time in distinguished company, which desired to set her at ease, began to be at ease, and to desire to s.h.i.+ne, so she giggled whenever she perceived the slightest excuse, even when Lord Ivinghoe handed her the eggs, and, hoped she had not too British an appet.i.te for French eggs; and Lady Ivinghoe asked if she had seen the fowls, and whether their feathers were ruffled up like a hen's that had been given to Aunt Cherry. Her little sister Joan, she added, had asked whether eating the eggs would make her hair curl.

"Or stand on end," said Phyllis.

"As I am afraid Miss Prescott's is doing till your telegram reaches her. Did you say it was to go from St. Malo?"

"Yes. I thought that the safest place to have a comprehensible message copied."

"To whom did you say?" asked Lady Ivinghoe.

"'Delrio to Flight.' Oh, they will know his name and address fast enough when it gets to Rock Quay."

"He is the clergyman at St. Kenelm's," put in Vera, in explanation; "very very advanced Ritualist, you know."

"Indeed!" was the answer.

"Oh, yes, that he is. My sister Polly is perfectly devoted to him; but we don't go to his church, except now and then, because my eldest sister is just one of those very old-fas.h.i.+oned people, you know, who want everything horrid and dull."

"That is hardly what our cousins think of Miss Prescott," said Phyllis. "I am so sorry for her anxiety! But I was not sure of the name of her place."

"The Goyle! Isn't it frightful?" said Vera.

"You say she was unprepared for your adventure?"

"Oh, yes, quite. Her notions are so dreadfully proper and old fas.h.i.+oned. She hasn't got any sympathy, has she, Hubert?"

"I don't know," he said gravely. "I have always had the greatest respect for her."

"Respect! So you ought. That's just the thing one has for a slow dear old fogey," she said, laughing, "Oh, Hubert!" There was a silence, and Lord Rotherwood made an observation upon the wind.

Vera perceived an awkwardness, and, by way of repairing it, afterwards thought it expedient to communicate to Lady Phyllis that it might be a pity she had said "Hubert." It was so awkward, only he was such an old acquaintance.

"I should have thought the awkwardness was incurred long ago," said Lady Phyllis. "Come, you will have no more concealments from Miss Prescott, will you? You will be ever so much more comfortable, and find out how kind she is."

"Oh, but!--" Vera wanted to talk over all her grievances for the pleasure of talking, saying very much what she had said before, and Phyllis tried to endure and put in as much sense as she could, without lecturing the girl, who struck her as the very silliest she had ever encountered; but she was continually called off to admire the receding French coast, or to look at the creatures brought up by dredging. She always took care to call Vera, and not let her feel herself left out; but Vera, if in solitude for a moment, reflected on the neglect shown of little people by great ones; and when called up to see uncanny slimy creatures, or even transparent b.a.l.l.s like watery umbrellas, only was disgusted and horrified.

She began to guess, rather truly, that Lady Phyllis wanted to hinder a tete-a-tete between her and Hubert Delrio. In fact, Lord Rotherwood, who was much more of a sympathetic, confidence-inviting personage than his stiffer, much older seeming son, had said to his daughter, "Don't let that poor lad and the girl get together alone, Fly; the boy thinks he is bound to make her an offer."

"Oh, father! Surely not!"

"No more than if they had been two babies in a walnut sh.e.l.l. So I told him, but people don't see what infants they are themselves, and I want to hinder him from putting his foot in it before he has seen her aunt--cousin--sister, or whoever it is that has the charge of her; and she has depicted to him a Gorgon, with Medusa's hair, claws and all--a fancy sketch, isn't it?"