CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE LAST.
"Geo'ge, your mudder wants you."
Such were the words which aroused George Foster from a reverie onemorning as he stood at the window of a villa on the coast of Kent,fastening his necktie and contemplating the sea.
"Nothing wrong, I hope," said the middy, turning quickly round, andregarding with some anxiety the unusually solemn visage of Peter theGreat.
"Wheder dere's anyfing wrong or not, 'snot for me to say, massa, but It'ink dere's suffin' up, for she seems in a carfuffle."
"Tell her I shall be with her instantly." Completing his toilethastily, our hero repaired to his mother's apartment, where he found herseated in dishabille with an open letter in her hand, and someexcitement in her face.
"Is Laronde better this morning?" she asked as her son sat down on asofa at the foot of her bed.
"I don't know, mother--haven't been to his room this morning. Why doyou ask? Has anything happened?"
"I will tell you presently, but first let me know what success you havehad in your search."
"Nothing but failure," said the middy, in a desponding tone. "If therehad been anything good to tell you I would have come to your room lastnight despite the lateness of the hour. We were later than usual inarriving because a trace broke, and after that one of the horses cast ashoe."
"Where did you make inquiries, George?"
"At the solicitors' office, of course. It is through them that weobtained what we hoped would be a clue, and it is to them that poorMarie Laronde used to go to inquire whether there was any chance of herhusband being released for a smaller sum than was at first demanded.They had heard of a dressmaker who employed a girl or woman namedLaronde in the West End, so I hunted her up with rather sanguineexpectations, but she turned out to be a girl of sixteen, dark insteadof fair, and unmarried! But again I ask, mother, what news, for I seeby your face that you have something to tell me. That is a letter fromMinnie, is it not?"
"It is, George, and I am very hopeful that while you have been away onthe wrong scent in the West End of London, Minnie has fallen, quiteunexpectedly, on the right scent in one of the low quarters ofLiverpool. You know that she has been nursing Aunt Jeanette there formore than a fortnight."
"Yes, I know it only too well," answered the middy. "It is too bad thatAunt Jeanette should take it into her head to get ill and send forMinnie just three weeks after my return from slavery!--But what do youmean by her having fallen on the right scent? Surely she has not foundleisure and strength both to hunt and nurse at the same time!"
"Yes, indeed, she has. Our last winter in that charming south of Francehas so completely restored her--through the blessing of God--that shehas found herself equal to almost anything. It happens that AuntJeanette has got a friend living close to her who is an enthusiasticworker amongst the poor of the town, and she has taken your sisterseveral times to visit the districts where the very poor people live.It was while she was thus engaged, probably never thinking of poorLaronde's wife at all, that she--but here is the letter. Read it foryourself, you need not trouble yourself to read the last page--just downto here."
Retiring to the window the middy read as follows:--
"Darling Mother,--I must begin at once with what my mind is full of, just remarking, by the way, that Aunt Jeanette is improving steadily, and that I hope to be home again in less than a week.
"Well, I told you in my last that Miss Love--who is most appropriately named--had taken me out once or twice on her visits among the poor. And, do you know, it has opened up a new world of ideas and feelings to me. It is such a terrible revelation of the intensity of sorrow and suffering that is endured by a large mass of our fellow-creatures! I am persuaded that thousands of the well-to-do and the rich have no conception of it, for it must be seen to be understood. I feel as if my heart had become a great fountain of pity! And I can well--at least better--understand how our dear Saviour, when He wanted to give evidence of the truth and character of His mission, said, `The poor have the gospel preached unto them,' for if any class of beings on the face of this earth stand in need of good news it is the poor. God help and bless them!
"Well, the other day Miss Love came to ask me to go out with her to visit some of her poor people, among others one--a very singular character--a woman who was reported to be a desperate miser, insomuch that she starved herself and her child for the sake of saving money. It was said that she was very ill at the time--thought to be dying-- and seemed to be in a wretched state of destitution. Her name, Miss Love told me, was Lundy.
"As Auntie was pretty well that day I gladly accompanied my friend to her district. And it _was_ an awful place! I shudder even now when I think of the sights and sounds and dreadful language I saw and heard there--but I must not turn aside from what I have to tell. I pass over our visits to various families and come at once to the reputed miser. She was in bed, and from her flushed face and glittering eyes I could see that she was in high fever. She started, raised herself on an elbow, and glared at us as we entered.
"I was deeply interested in her from the first moment. Although worn and thin, with lines of prolonged suffering indelibly stamped on her, she had a beautiful and refined face. Her age appeared to be about thirty-five. A lovely, but wretchedly clothed girl, of about fourteen years of age, sat on a low stool at her bedside. And oh! such a bed it was. Merely a heap of straw with a piece of sacking over it, on a broken bedstead. One worn blanket covered her thin form. Besides these things, a small table, and a corner cupboard, there was literally nothing else in the room.
"The girl rose to receive us, and expressed regret that she had no chairs to offer. While Miss Love went forward and talked tenderly to the mother, I drew the girl aside, took her hand affectionately, and said, `You have not always been as poor as you now are?'
"`No indeed,' she said, while tears filled her eyes, `but work failed us in London, where we once lived, and mother came to Liverpool to a brother, who said he would help her, but he died soon after our arrival, and then mother got ill and I had to begin and spend our savings--savings that darling mother had scraped and toiled so hard to gain--and this made her much worse, for she was _so_ anxious to save money!'
"This last remark reminded me of the reports about the mother's miserly nature, so I asked a question that made the poor girl reply quickly--
"`Oh! you mustn't think that darling mother is a miser. People so often fall into that mistake! She has been saving for ever so many years to buy father back--'
"`Buy father back!' I repeated, with a sudden start.
"`Yes, to buy him from the Algerine pirates--'
"I waited for no more, but, running to the bedside, looked the poor woman steadily in the face. There could be no doubt about it. There was the fair hair, blue eyes, and clear complexion, though the last was sadly faded from ill-health.
"You should have seen the look of surprise she gave me. But I had been foolishly precipitate. Her mind had been wandering a little before we came in. The shock seemed to throw it further off the balance, for she suddenly looked at me with a calm sweet smile.
"`Yes,' she said, `he always called me Marie, though my name was Mary, being a Frenchman, you know--his little Marie he called me! I often think how pleased he will be to see another little Marie grown big when we get him back--but oh! how long--how _long_ they are about sending him, though I have sent the money over and over again. Hush!'
"She looked round with a terrified expression and clutched my shawl with her thin hand. `You won't tell, will you?' she went on; `you have a kind face, I am sure you will not tell, but I have been saving--saving--saving, to send more money to the Moors. I keep it in a bag here under my pillow, but I often fear that some one will discover and steal it. Oh! these Moors must have hard, hard hearts to keep him from me so long--so _very_ long!'
"Here she th
rust me from her with unexpected violence, burst into a wild laugh, and began in her delirium to rave against the Moors. Yet, even in the midst of her reproaches, the poor thing prayed that God would soften their hearts and forgive her for being so revengeful.
"Now, mother, I want to know what is to be done, for when we sent for a doctor he said that not a word must be said about the return of her husband until she is out of danger and restored to some degree of health."
Thus far the middy read the letter.
"Mother," he said, firmly, "the doctor may say what he likes, but I amconvinced that the best cure for fever and every other disease under thesun is joy--administered judiciously, in small or large doses as thepatient is able to bear it! Now, the primary cause of poor Marie'sillness is the loss of her husband, therefore the removal of the cause--that is, the recovery of her husband--"
"With God's blessing," interjected Mrs Foster.
"Admitted--with the blessing of the Great Physician--that is the naturalcure."
"Very true, George, but you wisely spoke of small doses. I am not surethat it would be safe to tell Monsieur Laronde that we have actuallyfound his wife and child. He also is too weak to bear much agitation."
"Not so weak as you think, mother, though the sufferings of slave-lifeand subsequent anxiety have brought him very near to the grave. But Iwill break it to him judiciously. We will get my dear little Hester todo it."
"_Your_ Hester!" exclaimed Mrs Foster, in surprise. "I trust, George,that you, a mere midshipman, have not dared to speak to that child of--"
"Make your mind easy, mother," replied the middy, with a laugh, "I havenot said a word. Haven't required to. We have both spoken to eachother with our eyes, and that is quite enough at present. I feel assure of my little Hester as if we were fairly spliced. There goes thebreakfast-bell. Will you be down soon?"
"No. I am too happy to-day to be able to eat in public, George. Sendit up to me."
The breakfast-room in that seaside villa presented an interestingcompany, for the fugitives had stuck together with feelings of powerfulsympathy since they had landed in England. Hugh Sommers was there, butit was not easy to recognise in the fine, massive, genial gentleman, ina shooting suit of grey, the ragged, wretched slave who, not longbefore, had struggled like a tiger with the janissaries on the walls ofAlgiers. And Hester was there, of course, with her sunny hair and sunnylooks and general aspect of human sunniness all over, as unlike to theveiled and timid Moorish lady, or the little thin-nosed negress, aschalk is to cheese! Edouard Laronde was also there, and he, like theothers, had undergone wonderful transformation in the matter ofclothing, but he had also changed in body, for a severe illness hadseized him when he landed, and it required all Mrs Foster's carefulnursing to "pull him through," as the middy styled it. Brown the sailorwas also there, for, being a pleasant as well as a sharp man, youngFoster resolved to get him into the Navy, and, if possible, into thesame ship with himself. Meanwhile he retained him to assist in thesearch for Marie Laronde and her daughter. Last, but by no means least,Peter the Great was there--not as one of the breakfast party, but as awaiter.
Peter had from the first positively refused to sit down to meals in adining-party room!
"No, Geo'ge," he said, when our middy proposed it to him, on theoccasion of their arrival at his mother's home--"No, Geo'ge. I _won't_do it. Das flat! I's not bin used to it. My proper speer is dekitchen. Besides, do you t'ink I'd forsake my Angelica an' leabe her tofeed alone downstairs, w'ile her husband was a-gorgin' of his-selfabove? Neber! It's no use for you, Geo'ge, to say you'd be happy tosee her too, for she wouldn't do it, an' she's as obsnit as me--an'more! Now you make your mind easy, I'll be your mudder's blackflunkey--for lub, not for munny. So you hole your tongue, Geo'ge!"
Thus the arrangement came to be made--at least for a time.
The middy was unusually grave that morning as he sat down to breakfast.They were all aware that he had returned from London late the previousnight, and were more or less eager to know the result of his visit, buton observing his gravity they forbore to ask questions. Only the poorFrenchman ventured to say sadly, "Failed again, I see."
"Not absolutely," said Foster, who was anxious that the invalid shouldnot have his breakfast spoilt by being excited. "The visit I paid tothe solicitor did indeed turn out a failure, but--but I have stillstrong hopes," he added cheerily.
"So hab I, Geo'ge," remarked Peter the Great, from behind the chair ofMiss Sommers, who presided at the breakfast table, for although Peterhad resigned his right to equality as to feeding, he by no means gave uphis claim to that of social intercourse.
"Come, Laronde. Cheer up, my friend," said Hugh Sommers heartily; "Ifeel sure that we'll manage it amongst us, for we have all entered onthe search heart and soul."
"Right you are, sir," ejaculated Brown, through a mouthful of butteredtoast.
"It only requires patience," said the middy, "for London is a big place,you know, and can't be gone over in a week or two."
"Das so, Geo'ge," said Peter, nodding approval.
After breakfast Foster sought a private interview with Hester, whoundertook, with much fear, to communicate the news to Laronde.
"You see, I think it will come best from you, Hester," said George in agrave fatherly manner, "because a woman always does these sort of thingsbetter than a man, and besides, poor Laronde is uncommonly fond of you,as--"
He was going to have said "as everybody is," but, with much sagacity, hestopped short and sneezed instead. He felt that a commonplace coughfrom a man with a sound chest would inevitably have betrayed him--so hesneezed. "A hyperkrite as usual!" he thought, and continued aloud--
"So, you see, Hester, it is very important that you should undertake it,and it will be very kind of you, too."
"I would gladly undertake a great deal more than that for the poor man,"said Hester earnestly. "When must I do it?"
"Now--at once. The sooner the better. He usually goes to the bower atthe foot of the garden after breakfast."
Without a word, but with a glance that spoke volumes, the maiden ran tothe bower.
What she said to the Frenchman we need not write down in detail. It issufficient to note the result. In the course of a short time after shehad entered the bower, a loud shout was heard, and next moment Larondewas seen rushing towards the house with a flushed countenance and thevigour of an athlete!
"My little girl has been too precipitate, I fear," remarked Hugh Sommersto the middy.
"Your little girl is never `_too_'--anything!" replied the middy toHugh, with much gravity.
The ex-Bagnio slave smiled, but whether at the reply or at the rushingFrenchman we cannot tell.
When Laronde reached his room he found Peter the Great there, on hisknees, packing a small valise.
"Hallo! Peter, what are you doing? I want that."
"Yes, Eddard, I know dat. Das why I's packin'."
"You're a good fellow, Peter, a true friend, but let me do it; I'm interrible haste!"
"No, sar, you's not in haste. Dere's lots ob time." (He pulled out awatch of the warming-pan type and consulted it.) "De coach don't starttill one o'clock; it's now eleben; so dere's no hurry. You jest liedown on de bed an' I'll pack de bag."
Instead of lying down the poor Frenchman fell on his knees beside thebed and laid his face in his hands.
"Yes--das better. Dere's some sense in _dat_," muttered the negro as hequietly continued to pack the valise.
Two hours later and Laronde was dashing across country as fast as fourgood horses could take him, with George Foster on one side, Peter theGreat on the other, and Brown on the box-seat--the fo'c'sl, he calledit--beside the red-coated driver.
Whatever may be true of your modern forty-mile-an-hour iron horse, therecan be no question that the ten-mile-an-hour of those days, behind aspanking team with clattering wheels, and swaying springs, and crackingwhip, and sounding horn, _felt_ uncommonly swift and satisfactory.Laronde s
hut his eyes and enjoyed it at first. But the strengthengendered by excitement soon began to fail. The long weary journeyhelped to make things worse, and when at last they arrived at thejourney's end, and went with Miss Love and Minnie to the lodging, poorLaronde had scarcely strength left to totter to his wife's bedside.This was fortunate, however, for he was the better able to restrain hisfeelings.
"She has had a long satisfactory sleep--is still sleeping--and is muchbetter," was the nurse's report as they entered. The daughter lookedwith surprise at the weak worn man who was led forward. Laronde did notobserve her. His eyes were fixed on the bed where the pale thin figurelay. One of Marie's hands lay outside the blanket. The husband knelt,took it gently and laid his cheek on it. Then he began to stroke itsoftly. The action awoke the sleeper, but she did not open her eyes.
"Go on," she murmured gently; "you always used to do that when I was illor tired--don't stop it yet, as you _always_ do now, and go away."
The sound of her own voice seemed to awake her. She turned her head andher eyes opened wide while she gazed in his face with a steady stare.Uttering a sharp cry she seized him round the neck, exclaiming, "Praisethe Lord!"
"Yes, Marie--my own! Praise the Lord, for He has been merciful to me--asinner."
The unbeliever, whom lash, torture, toil, and woe could not soften, wasbroken now, for "the goodness of the Lord had led him to repentance."
Did the middy, after all, marry Hester, _alias_ Geo'giana Sommers? No,of course, he did not! He was a full-fledged lieutenant in hisMajesty's navy when he did that! But it was not long--only a couple ofyears after his return from slavery--when he threw little Hester into astate of tremendous consternation one day by abruptly proposing thatthey should get spliced immediately, and thenceforward sail the sea oflife in company. Hester said timidly she couldn't think of it. Georgesaid boldly he didn't want her to _think_ of it, but to _do it_!
This was putting the subject in quite a new light, so she smiled,blushed, and hurriedly hid her face on his shoulder!
Of course all the fugitive slaves were at the wedding. There waslikewise a large quantity of dark-blue cloth, gold lace, and brassbuttons at it.
Peter the Great came out strong upon that occasion. Although heconsented to do menial work, he utterly refused to accept a menialposition. Indeed he claimed as much right to, and interest in, thebride as her own radiant "fadder," for had he not been the chiefinstrument in "sabing dem bof from de Moors?"
As no one ventured to deny the claim, Peter retired to the privacy ofthe back kitchen, put his arm round Angelica's neck, told her that hehad got a gift of enough money to "ransom his sister Dinah," laid hiswoolly head on her shoulder, and absolutely howled for joy.
It may be well to remark, in conclusion, that Peter the Great finallyagreed to become Mrs Foster's gardener, as being the surest way ofseeing "Geo'ge" during his periodical visits home. For much the samereason Hugh Sommers settled down in a small house near them. Larondeobtained a situation as French master in an academy not far off, and hiswife and daughter soon gave evidence that joy is indeed a wonderfulmedicine!
As for George Foster himself, he rose to the top of his profession. Howcould it be otherwise with such an experience--and such a wife? Andwhen, in after years, his sons and daughters clamoured, as they wereoften wont to do, for "stories from father," he would invariably sendfor Peter the Great, in order that he might listen and corroborate orcorrect what he related of his wonderful adventures when he was a Middyamong the Moors.
THE END.
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