CHAPTER XVII.
A WHISTLE from the direction of the house startled the lovers.
“Ah, that is Cal’s call to me,” said Arthur, “and I presume that themail is received, a letter for me in it; perhaps one for you too, myMarian.”
“Oh, I hope so,” she said, “it is so long since I heard from my dearbrother Sandy, my only one now.”
“Ah,” he said as they walked on to the house, for he had risenand given her his arm, “you must tell me about him, dearest, whenopportunity offers. Your only brother? Well, I shall give you severalmore when you give yourself to me.”
They found the family all on the porch, most of them with letters,papers, or magazines in their hands.
Elsie looked smilingly at Arthur and Marian as they came up the steps,something in their faces telling what had passed between them sincethey walked down to the beach together.
Arthur saw and returned her smile, and leading Marian to her, said injoyous tones, “You were right, cousin. I followed your advice, and she,dear girl, has given herself to me; or rather we have given ourselvesto each other.”
His clear though not loud tones reached every ear, and in a moment allthe relatives, old and young, had gathered about the happy pair withtheir hearty congratulations.
“I am truly glad, Miss Marian,” said Calhoun, taking her hand in a warmpressure; “glad for both you and Art, who will, I am sure, make thebest of husbands, and for myself also that I am to have so sweet a newsister.”
“And we are to be sisters too, it seems,” Mary said, giving the younggirl a warm embrace.
“And Hugh and I are to be left desolate and alone,” remarked Mr.Lilburn in a rueful tone. “Hugh, laddie, it is high time you werehunting up a wife.”
“I think I shall have to try, father,” returned the young man, coloringand laughing. “I contemplate robbing those who have robbed us; but afair exchange is no robbery.”
At that both the Conlys turned surprised, inquiring looks upon him.
“Ah,” he laughed, “I perceive that I have stolen a march upon you.This, sirs,” holding up a letter, “is from your sister Ella, acceptingmy heart, hand, and fortune, which I offered her some days ago byletter.”
At that there was a murmur of surprise from the listeners, accompaniedby looks of pleasure; then the brothers shook hands with Hugh, wishinghim joy and saying they should be glad to receive him into the family.
“My! what a lot of weddings we seem to be going to have!” exclaimedRosie. “I think I’ll wait for mine till they are not quite such commonaffairs.”
“Particularly as there’s nobody offering to pair off with you yet,my pretty young sister,” laughed Walter. “I think, though, that theschool-room is the best place for you and me for a while yet.”
“Ah, Marian, here is a letter for you, my bonny lass; from your brotherSandy, I presume,” said Mr. Lilburn, holding it out to her.
She took it eagerly, exclaiming, “Oh, yes, that is Sandy’s writing! Thedear laddie! how I have wanted to hear from him.”
“Read it, lass, and tell us if he says he will come to us, and if sohow soon,” said the old gentleman.
She hastened to obey, and presently announced in joyous tones, “Oh,yes, Cousin Ronald, he is delighted with your kind offer, and will comeas soon as he has finished his present engagement, which will be inabout a couple of months.”
In the mean time Arthur had opened and read a letter handed him by hisbrother. He looked much pleased with its contents.
“Cousin Elsie,” he said, “do you think you can accommodate me here afew days longer?”
“I am quite certain of it, provided you will stay,” she answered withher own bright, sweet smile. “You need not have the slightest fear thatyou are not as welcome as the sunlight.”
“Thank you very much,” he said; “then I shall stay perhaps anotherweek. This letter is from Cousin Dick Percival. He writes he has comethere—to Roselands—for change of scene and air, as well as to see hisrelatives; can stay some weeks, and will take charge of my patients fora time, which he has in fact already begun to do.”
“How nice!” exclaimed Rosie. “Dick is a good boy to enable us to keepyou a little longer, and when you go back he will, I hope, come and paya little visit here himself.”
“Yes, I hope he will,” said her mother. “I shall write and invite himto do so.”
“Well, Cousin Art, I’m glad you are going to stay longer,” said Walter,“but I hope none of us will be expected to get sick in order to giveyou employment.”
“No, certainly not,” returned Arthur gravely. “You must remember it wasnot for work I came, but rest; so don’t trouble yourself trying to makebusiness for me.”
“No, I will leave that business to Cousin Marian,” returned Walter,giving her a mischievous look which brought a charming blush to hercheek.
“Yes, Walter, I have given him a great deal of business in that line,I am sorry to say,” she returned; “so that he has had but little rest,and needs to stay and have some play-time.”
“So he has; but you are much better, I’m sure, for your cheeks are likeas roses—not the white kind, either—and we’ll all endeavor to keep wellso that he’ll have nothing to do but rest and recruit the remainder ofthe time he stays.”
“Well, what are the plans for the day?” asked Harold, addressing thecompany in general.
“Some of us want to do a little shopping, and would like to have youdrive us in to the city,” replied his mother.
“I shall do so with the greatest pleasure, mamma,” he returned. “Howsoon do you wish to start?”
“I’m wanting a ride,” said Rosie. “I haven’t had one for some time, andam actually hungry for it.”
“Well, little dear, I’ll see what can be done to relieve your hunger,”said Herbert gallantly. “Are there any others of our company sufferingfrom the same kind of hunger?”
“Yes; I’d like to go,” said Lulu. “May I, papa?”
“Yes; if the right kind of horse can be secured, so that I can feelthat you will be safe. Violet, my dear, if you are not to be one of theshopping party, will you ride with me and the others?”
“With pleasure, my dear,” she replied. “I dare say I am as hungry fora ride as my younger sister; and in your company it will be especiallyenjoyable.”
All then hurried to their rooms to don their riding hats and habits,while Harold and the captain went in search of the required steeds.
Arthur did not think Marian strong enough for such a ride, and Mary andCalhoun did not care to go. They would probably walk out presently, butjust now were waiting to see the others off.
At Calhoun’s request, Mary sat down to the piano, Marian and Arthurdrew near, and the four joined in the singing of some of their favoritehymns, Mary playing the accompaniment.
Presently Will Croly ran in, in his informal way, joined the littlegroup, and added his voice to theirs.
Good-mornings were exchanged when they had finished their piece, thenCroly said, “Now, Miss Mary, let us have ‘My days are gliding swiftlyby.’ It is a great favorite with me, particularly the chorus:
“‘For oh, we stand on Jordan’s strand, Our friends are passing over, And, just before, the shining shore We may almost discover.’”
Mary at once complied with the request, and they were singing the lastverse when two young men, strangers to the family, came up into theporch asking for Croly.
“Ah,” said he, “I quite forgot my errand. Those are some strangersvisiting at my uncle’s house, and I have promised to go in bathing withthem—so called to ask my friends Harold and Herbert to go in with us.”
“I really don’t think they can to-day,” said Calhoun, and went on toexplain how they had planned to spend the next few hours.
“Ah, then I must just go on with the others,” returned Croly.“Good-morning to you all,” and with the words he hurried out, joinedthe two strangers; the three went over to the bath houses, not very faraway,
and were presently seen coming out of them in bathing-suits andgoing down among the waves.
A few moments later those who had gone in search of horses and carriagereturned bringing a full supply. Those expecting to go had crowded onthe porch, all in good spirits, laughing and chatting, the younger onesespecially full of mirth and gayety, when suddenly a cry of fright anddistress came from the sea. “Help! help! he’s drowning! Oh, help! help!save him!”
With the first cry a deep hush had fallen on our friends upon theporch, but at the last word Captain Raymond, Mr. Dinsmore, Mr. Lilburnand his son, the two Conlys, Harold and Herbert, all dashed down thesteps and away toward the spot from whence the cry came.
But a row-boat near at hand was already pulling for it, and was therebefore them. There seemed nothing for them to do, but they stood closeby the incoming waves, waiting in breathless anxiety and suspense.
Some moments passed—then they saw an insensible, limp, dripping formdrawn from the water into the boat, which immediately made for theshore with all speed.
“Oh, it is Will, dear Will!” cried Harold as he caught sight of thedeath-like face. “O Art, Cousin Art, do your best to save him, ifthere’s any life there. How glad I am you’re here with us.”
“I shall certainly do all I can,” returned Arthur in moved tones, “anddo the rest of you ask the Lord to direct and bless my efforts.”
“Oh, yes, we will, we will,” responded several voices as the poorfellow was lifted from the boat and swiftly carried to the nearesthouse—the one occupied by our friends.
Arthur understood his business thoroughly and there were plenty ofwilling, helping hands. The news flew fast, and presently Croly’s auntcame, full of distress, to ask if there was any life, any hope.
“We have not given up, we will not while the least spark of hoperemains,” Elsie answered; then told of the long and at last successfulfight which had once saved her Harold from the grave.
“Oh, dear fellow, I hope he will be saved,” said the aunt, weeping.“You probably know, Mrs. Travilla, how anxious he has been about hisparents: we have just had a telegram from his father, saying that theyhave landed in New York and will be here this evening. I think it willkill his mother—father too, perhaps, for he is their only child andjust an idol with them both—to learn that he is lying here, to allappearance dead. I’ll have to put them off with the news that he wentout on the sea before their telegram came and may be back in an hour ortwo.”
“Yes, I hope he will soon show signs of life,” Elsie said with emotion.“Oh, how sad, how heart-breaking for them to lose their only child insuch a way—so suddenly and without a parting word!”
“They are coming home very happy,” continued the aunt; “the motherhaving almost entirely recovered her health, and if only they couldfind poor Will all right——” she ended with a burst of weeping.
“Dear Mrs. Croly, do not give up hope; we are all praying for him—thathis life may be spared if the will of God be so.”
“Then I believe it will be, for God is the hearer and answerer ofprayer,” returned the aunt; “and oh, I want to thank you for havingpoor Will brought here; for if he was with us the state of affairscould hardly be kept a moment from his parents, but now I hope it willbe all right before they need to know.”
“You are very, very welcome,” Elsie replied, and Mrs. Croly went awaysomewhat consoled and hopeful.
The rides and the shopping expedition had been given up and thechildren and younger members of the family had gone down to the beachto be out of the way of those working with Croly; but Rosie, Lulu,Grace, and Walter were in a sad, subdued, and anxious mood. Mary andMarian presently joined them, and they talked feelingly of him whomthey hardly dared to hope to see in life again.
Yet all had great faith in Arthur’s skill, and the younger girls,telling of Harold’s narrow escape some years before at Nantucket,cheered and encouraged the others with the hope that Croly might evenyet be saved from temporal death, and live many years to be a comfortto his parents and a blessing to the world.
“I do hope he is not gone and will live for many years serving theMaster here on earth,” said Mary, “but if he is gone, we know that itis to be with Jesus and forever blest. How he loved that hymn about theshining shore! and perhaps he has reached it now,” she added with aburst of tears.
“But oh, we will hope not! hope he is still living and will be sparedto the parents who love him so dearly,” said Marian. “And I believe ifanybody can save him it is your cousin, Dr. Conly.”
“I’ll run back to the house to see if there is any sign of life yet,”said Walter, and rushed away.
He was back again in a few minutes, running, waving his handkerchiefover his head, and showing so joyous a face that the others exclaimedhalf breathlessly, “Oh, is he coming to?”
“Yes, yes, Cousin Arthur says there are signs of life, and he thinksthat he will be able to save him.”
The glad news was received with a simultaneous burst of joyfulexclamations.
“His parents have come,” added Walter, “and are, oh! so anxious to seehim, but don’t know yet that anything is wrong with him.”
And now with their minds relieved the girls were able to give attentionto anything that might be going on within the range of their vision.
A boat was tied to the wharf and they saw that persons had left itand were wandering along the beach, among them an elderly man havingseveral children in his care.
Presently this little group had seated themselves on the beach quitenear our little party, and the smallest, a child of three, cametoddling toward them.
“How do you do, baby girl? Do you like candy? Will you have a bite?”asked Rosie, holding out a tempting-looking morsel.
The little one stood gazing for a moment with her finger in her mouth,then she accepted the offer. “Dood!” she said smacking her lips. “Dotnudder bit for Sally?”
“Yes,” Rosie said, bestowing another piece.
But another, older girl came running. “Sally,” she said reprovingly,and seizing the little one’s hand in an effort to draw her away, “youmust not tease the ladies; papa says so. Come with me.”
Sally resisted and Rosie said, “No, we are not teased. We’d like tohave her stay and talk to us.”
But the father had come for his baby girl. “Please excuse her, youngladies,” he said, lifting his hat politely, “she’s pretty well spoiled.I’ve come to the seaside for a bit of rest and brought my childrenalong, for I knew it would be quite a treat to them.”
“And see, we’ve all got on the Union colors,” said one of the littlegirls who had followed him, showing a rosette of red, white, and blueribbon pinned to her dress. “Father was a soldier in the war, and weall love the old flag.”
“Oh, were you, sir?” cried Lulu delightedly. “Won’t you please tell usof your experiences there?”
The other girls joined eagerly in the request, and at length, evidentlypleased that they cared to hear the story, he sat down on the beachbeside them and began it.
“In the war of the rebellion I was in the Shenandoah Valley with theinfantry troops; a mere lad I was, only fifteen. One day I slipped offwithout leave, to visit an aunt living in Washington. We were at thattime in camp on Georgetown Heights. Going back that night I lost my wayand did not feel safe to ask it lest I should be thought a deserter;so finally went down into an area and, wearied out with my wanderings,fell asleep. It rained heavily through the night, but I was so wearyand so used to hardship that I slept on and knew nothing about thattill morning, when I waked to find myself lying in a puddle of water. Irose and hurried on my way; finally got back to camp, but so rheumaticfrom my wetting that I was sent to the hospital—in Washington. There mygun was taken from me and a receipt for it given me; so that when atlength I recovered sufficiently to go back to camp, I was without a gun.
“It was not supplied to me immediately, and in the mean time the troopswith whom I belonged were ordered to guard some wagons—a very longtrain—and w
hile it was moving on, Mosby came up with his cavalry, tookus prisoners, rifled the wagons of such things as he could carry awayand use, and took the best horses for the use of his troops, leavingbehind his own broken-down ones.
“Mosby’s own troops and his prisoners were allowed to help themselvesto such provisions as they could carry. I think they burnt all theycould not take. When the rebs came upon us, one demanded my coat. Ipulled it off and gave it to him; another took my hat, a third myshoes, so that I was not particularly well dressed when they were donewith me.
“But I, as well as others, filled my haversack withprovisions—hard-tack, pork, and so forth—and as they moved on eachprisoner was obliged to lead one or more horses. I had but one.
“When the troops halted for the night the prisoners—among others—wereordered to take the horses to the river and water them. I had been allthe time since my capture trying to contrive a way to escape. Now Isaw a way, told a fellow-captive my plan, and asked him to render hisaid by taking charge of my horse in addition to several already in hiskeeping. He consented. I slipped from the horse’s back and, unobserved,got behind a large stone, allowed myself to sink in the water theretill nearly covered—only able to breathe—and so remained till thetroops of rebs and prisoners had left the spot.
“Then creeping cautiously out, I hurried on my way, going down theriver bank, knowing the Union troops were camped somewhere lower downthe stream.
“I trudged on all night, crept into the bushes and hid as daydawned—lying there all day tortured with heat and thirst as well ashunger—travelled on again the following night. Faint, weary, and wornwith fatigue, hunger, and thirst, about nine o’clock seeing a light ata little distance I went toward it, feeling that I must venture forrelief from my intolerable sufferings from hunger and thirst.
“As I drew near the light a dog began to bark from its vicinity andrushed out in my direction. At that I stood still and the dog came nonearer.
“But presently I heard the voice of a negro man asking: ‘Who dar?’Knowing the negroes were always friends to the Union soldiers, I thencame forward and told of my escape from the rebs and my desire to reachthe Union camp, my ignorance of the right road, hunger, thirst, andweariness.
“The negro told me I was in a dangerous place—rebel troops being allabout—and he and Dinah—his wife—had not much provision, but to come inand Dinah would give me something to eat, then I could go on my way, heshowing me where to ford the river, the Federal troops being two orthree miles farther down on the other side.
“I went with him into the cabin; an old negress greeted me kindly, andhaving heard my story undertook to get me some supper.
“She made a corn pone, took a pan with a division across the middle,put the pone in one side, some bacon in the other, and setting it onthe coals, cooked them together, the fat from the bacon running throughto the pone. It made as delicious a supper as I ever ate. She gave mea piece to carry along when I set out upon my journey again, as I didpresently, travelling still farther down stream, till I reached a ford.
“Near there I lay down and slept soundly, not waking till the sun wastwo hours high.
“I was alarmed to find it so late, but I forded the river safely, andfinally reached the Union camp.
“No one there knew me. I had not even a uniform to show what I was, solest I might prove to be a spy I was ordered under arrest and confinedtill some of my own regiment who knew me came in and corroborated mystory, or at least recognized me as one of themselves.”
“That was a very interesting story, and we are much obliged to you forit, sir,” said Lulu, as the narrator paused as if he had finished.“But can’t you give us another?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling in an absent-minded way. “I was just thinkingof another and rather amusing occurrence that took place while I was asoldier, though it hadn’t much to do with the war.
“My parents were living in Baltimore then, and I was still in theShenandoah Valley. At one time, blackberries being very plenty in thewoods where I was encamped, I gathered great quantities, filled a box,putting green leaves under and over the berries, nailed it up and sentit by express to my parents. I wrote to them about it, but the boxstarted ahead of the letter and arrived first.
“In the mean time my mother and grandmother had been talking ofpaying a visit to my older sister, who had married, was living inPhiladelphia, and anxious and urgent to have them come on to see herand her first-born—a baby boy toddling about.
“They were most desirous to do so, as he was the first grandchild ofthe one, the first great-grandchild of the other. But before they hadmade ready to start upon the journey a letter was received from thechild’s mother saying that he had been taken dangerously ill. The twograndmothers were greatly troubled and more anxious than ever to seethe baby. The older one was in her bedroom, not feeling well; herdaughter was with her. A vehicle was heard to drive up to the frontdoor. Glancing from the window the younger grandmother saw it was theexpress wagon and a box was being lifted out, evidently for them.Thinking—its mother having said they should see it dead or alive—itcontained the corpse of her baby grandchild, she hurried down, had itcarried into the parlor and set upon a table. She then threw a whitesheet over it and awaited in trembling and grief the home-coming of herhusband—my father.
“When he came in she told of the box and its supposed contents, and he,also full of grief, set to work to open it. The lid was at length tornoff, and great was the surprise and relief of both to come upon thefresh green leaves and berries beneath them.
“But the door-bell rang again, and there stood Hannah with her babe inher arms alive and well.
“Joyful was the welcome given to both; they were taken into the parlor,Hannah shown the box, which was still standing, and told the story.
“After a while the baby was allowed to trot about at his own sweetwill, while the older people were taken up with each other (a cradlehad been brought down to the parlor to lay the baby corpse in beforethe box was opened, and there it stood covered with a spread orsomething white), so when the little chap was left unnoticed, he got atthe box of berries, carried some to the cradle and threw them in on thedainty white spread.”
The little girls had been listening to their father’s story with asmuch interest as if they had never heard it before, though doubtless itwas quite familiar to them.
“Wasn’t it funny?” asked one of them with a merry laugh, as he finished.
But just then a boy came running, calling out, “Pap, you’re wanted now.Please come right away, mother says,” and with a pleasant “Good-by,ladies,” the father rose, took Sally in his arms and went, the rest ofthe children following.