By Berwen Banks Part 21

"Now I'm going to ring for Mrs. Finch to take these things away, uncle; no more books, mind!"

"No, no," he said, laughing; "she's had four to-day, and a pair of slippers, and that'll do for one day. After all, she's a good ole sole! though why sole more than whiting or mackerel Ay never could make ewt. She knows me and my ways, may dear, and Ay pay her well. Eight s.h.i.+llings a week regular! and she only comes at ten and leaves at faive. Oh! bless you, _she_ knows when she's well off, or she wouldn't put up with the books and slippers. Ay know 'em!" he added, with a shrewd wink, which set Valmai laughing again. When Mrs. Finch came in for the tray he was quite amiable. "Well, ole gel," he said, "this is the night for your wages, isn't it?"

"Iss, sir," said the woman, with a sniff and a bob curtsey.

"There's my purse. Count it out to her, may dear. Eight s.h.i.+llings, every penny, and there's a s.h.i.+lling overhead for good luck, Mrs. Finch, becos the lil gel has come to manage the s.h.i.+p for us. Now remember, she's capting now and you're the mate."

"Iss, sir, and thank you," said Mrs. Finch, disappearing with practised celerity through the doorway.

And so Valmai took her place at once as "captain" of her uncle's house, and, in spite of his gruff ways and his tremendous voice, she felt more at home with him than with Essec Powell, for here her presence was valued, and she felt sure that she had a place in the old man's warm heart.

She slept heavily through the next night, and in the morning awoke refreshed, and with a feeling of brightness and cheerfulness which she had not expected to feel so soon. Her new life would give her plenty to do, to fill up every hour and to drive out all useless regrets and repinings.

Deep in her heart lay the one unsatisfied longing. Nothing could alter that; nothing could heal the wound that Cardo's departure had made except the antic.i.p.ation of his return. Yes, that day would come! and until then she would bear her sorrow with a brave heart and smiling face. The weather continued rough and stormy, and, looking out from her bedroom window, the grey skies and windswept streets made no cheerful impression upon her. The people, the hurrying footsteps, and the curious Pembrokes.h.i.+re accent, gave her the impression of having travelled to a foreign country, all was so different to the peaceful seclusion of the Berwen banks. It was a "horrid dull town," she thought and with the consciousness of the angry white harbour which she had caught sight of on her arrival, her heart sank within her; but she bravely determined to put a good face on her sorrow. On the second morning after her arrival she was sitting on the window-seat in her uncle's room, and reading to him out of the newspaper, when the bang of the front door and a quick step on the stair announced the doctor's arrival.

"Well, captain," he said, "and how is the leg getting on?"

He was a bright, breezy-looking man, who gave one the impression of being a great deal in the open air, and mixing much with the "sailoring." Indeed, he was rather nautical in his dress and appearance.

"You have a nurse, I see," he added, looking at Valmai with a shrewd, pleasant glance.

"Yes," said the captain, "nurse and housekeeper in one. She is may niece, poor Robert's daughter, you know."

"Ah! to be sure," said the doctor, shaking hands with her. "He went out as a missionary, didn't he?"

"Yes, to Patagonia, more fool he," said the captain. "Leaving his country for the sake of them n.i.g.g.e.rs, as if there wasn't plenty of sinners in Wales for him to preach to. But there, he was a good man, and Ay'm a bad 'un," and he laughed, as though very well satisfied with this state of affairs.

"Have you heard the news?" said the doctor, while he examined the splints of the broken leg.

"No, what is it?" rumbled the captain.

"Why, the _Burrawalla_ has put back for repairs, Just seen her tugged in--good deal damaged; they say, a collision with the steam-s.h.i.+p, _Ariadne_.

"By gos.h.!.+ that's bad. That's the first accident that's ever happened to Captain Owen, and he's been sailing the last thirty years to my knowledge. Well, Ay'm tarnished, but Ay'm sorry."

"Always stops with you?" inquired the doctor.

"Yes, has all his life. There's the little back parlour and the bedroom behind it always kept for him."

"Well, you are going on very nicely. Now for the wrist."

The captain winced a little and swore a good deal while his wrist was under manipulation. It evidently pained him more than the broken leg.

"What the blazes are your about, doctor? Leave it alone--do."

"Come, come, now that's all over. You must mind and keep it very quiet. No shying of books and things, remember. Well, good-bye; come and see you again to-morrow. I daresay you'll see Captain Owen by and by. Good-bye, my dear," turning to Valmai, "take care of your uncle."

And like a gust of wind he ran down the stairs, banged the front door, and was gone.

Valmai had dropped her paper and listened breathlessly to his communications, and she was sitting, pale and silent, as a tumult of exciting thoughts rushed into her mind.

"The _Burrawalla_ come back! damaged! a collision! And Cardo, where was he? Was it possible that the dull grey town contained her lover?"

"Well, to be sure, here's a pretty kettle of fish," said her uncle, using strong compulsion to adapt his words to the squeamishness of a "lil gel." "Here's the _Burrawalla_, Valmai, put back for repairs, may friend Captain Owen's s.h.i.+p, you know. Sech a thing has never happened afore. You'll have to put his rooms ready, may dear, and laight a fayer by 'm by, for he's sure to be here to-night. You'll look after him, won't you?"

"Yes, uncle, I'll do my best, whatever. I had better go and get his sheets aired at once." And she left the room, glad to hide her pale face and trembling hands from her uncle.

Once outside the bedroom door, she crossed her hands on her bosom, as though to stop the tumultuous beating of her heart. What was going to happen? Should she hear Cardo's name from Captain Owen? Could she find her way to the docks? and as a gleam of sunlight shone in through the little window in the linen cupboard, she thought what a bright and happy place Fordsea was after all.

She hurried through her domestic preparations, and then, after a consultation with her uncle, made an expedition into the market, ordering supplies for the following days. When she returned, the front door was open, and, entering the pa.s.sage, she heard loud voices in her uncle's room, and gently pus.h.i.+ng the door open, saw a rough-bearded, blue-eyed man standing by the bedside.

"Well, that's all settled, then; you'll let the young man have my rooms? 'Twill only be for two or three days. And this is your niece?

Well, upon my word, I begin to repent of my bargain. Hard lines for me! to be tied to the docks night and day to watch those repairs, while my young friend comes here to be taken care of and fussed about by my old friend and such a pretty girl."

Valmai felt disappointed; she had hoped to learn something from their guest of Cardo and his whereabouts.

"I am sorry," she said, as he took his departure, "that you can't stay here."

The gallant captain taking her hand, looked admiringly at the blus.h.i.+ng face.

"By Jove, and so am I; but dooty is dooty, my dear, especially your dooty to your s.h.i.+p. Good-bye, come and see you again soon." And once more Valmai was left to conflicting emotions.

The day pa.s.sed quickly, while she divided her attention between her uncle's wants and her preparations for the guest who was to arrive about six o'clock. Mrs. Finch would prepare the tea and roast the fowl which was to accompany it, and Valmai added little dainty touches of flowers and lights for the table.

"We won't light the candles till he knocks at the door; and when he has once sat down to his meal, I can manage about taking it out; but I am very nervous. I wonder what he will be like."

Her uncle knocked and called incessantly, giving fresh directions and asking innumerable questions, in his anxiety that his friend's friend should be made comfortable under his roof. At last everything was ready, a bright fire burning in the grate threw its glow through the open door of the adjoining bedroom, and flickered on the prettily-arranged dressing-table. All looked cosy and home-like, and when everything was completed, Valmai retired to put on a fresh frock of white serge.

"His name is Gwynn," said her uncle at last, while she listened breathlessly to the opening of the front door, and the entrance of the stranger.

"This is Captain Powell's house?" said a voice which set Valmai's pulses throbbing, and all the blood in her body rushed to her face and head. For a moment she felt dizzy, and she all but dropped the tray which she was holding for her uncle.

"Don't you be afraid, may dear," said the captain consolingly.

"Captain Owen tells me he's a ra-al gentleman, and they are always easily pleased. He won't look at you, may dear; but, by Jingo, if he does, Ay'm not ashamed of you. Now, you go down, and make a nice curtsey, may dear, not like Mrs. Finch makes it, you know, but as, Ay bet, you have larnt it at the dancing school; a sc.r.a.pe behind with one foot, you know, and hold your frock with two hands, and then say, 'My uncle hopes you will make yourself quite at home, sir.'"

"Oh, uncle!" said Valmai, in despair, "he's not come out yet from his bedroom. Won't I wait till he is seated down at his tea, and till Mrs.

Finch has gone?"

"Well, confound the ole 'ooman," said the captain, knocking violently on the floor, "where is she now? Why don't she come and tell me how he's getting on? Roast fowl nicely browned, may dear? Egg sauce?"

"Yes, and sausages, uncle. There, he is come out now, and Mrs. Finch is taking the fowl in; he is saying something to her and laughing. Now he is quite quiet," said the girl.

"Of course; he's attending to business." And for the next quarter of an hour, Valmai had the greatest difficulty in restraining her uncle's impatience.

"Let him have time to finish, uncle!"

"Yes, yes; of course, may dear, we'll give him time."

"I can now hear Mrs. Finch say, Is there anything else, sir? So she is going. Yes, there, she has shut the front door. Oh, dear, dear! Now if he rings, I _must_ go in."