Part 6 (2/2)

Steps and murmurings came, and pa.s.sed him, and receded.

The only words he caught distinctly came from Wardlaw, as he pa.s.sed. ”It is nearly high tide. I fear we must make haste.”

Seaton followed the whole party at a short distance, feeling sure they would eventually separate and give him his opportunity with Wardlaw.

They went down to the harbor and took a boat; Seaton came nearer, and learned they were going on board the great steamer bound for England, that loomed so black, with monstrous eyes of fire.

They put off, and Seaton stood baffled.

Presently the black monster, with enormous eyes of fire, spouted her steam like a Leviathan, and then was still; next the smoke puffed, the heavy paddles revolved, and she rushed out of the harbor; and Seaton sat down upon the ground, and all seemed ended. Helen gone to England!

Wardlaw gone with her! Love and revenge had alike eluded him. He looked up at the sky and played with the pebbles at his feet, stupidly, stupidly. He wondered why he was born; why he consented to live a single minute after this. His angel and his demon gone home together! And he left here!

He wrote a few lines on the paper he had intended for Wardlaw, sprinkled them with sand, and put them in his bosom, then stretched himself out with a weary moan, like a dying dog, to wait the flow of the tide, and, with it, Death. Whether or not his resolution or his madness could have carried him so far cannot be known, for even as the water rippled in, and, trickling under his back, chilled him to the bone, a silvery sound struck his ear. He started to his feet, and life and its joys rushed back upon him. It was the voice of the woman he loved so madly.

Helen Rolleston was on the water, coming ash.o.r.e again in the little boat.

He crawled, like a lizard, among the boats ash.o.r.e to catch a sight of her. He did see her, was near her, unseen himself. She landed with her father. So Wardlaw was gone to England without her. Seaton trembled with joy. Presently his G.o.ddess began to lament in the prettiest way. ”Papa!

papa!” she sighed, ”why must friends part in this sad world? Poor Arthur is gone from me; and, by and by, I shall go from you, my own papa.” And at that prospect she wept gently.

”Why, you foolish child!” said the old general tenderly, ”what matters a little parting, when we are all to meet again in dear old England. Well then, there, have a cry; it will do you good.” He patted her head tenderly as she clung to his warlike breast; and she took him at his word; the tears ran swiftly and glistened in the very starlight.

But, oh, how Seaton's heart yearned at all this!

What? mustn't _he_ say a word to comfort her; he who, at that moment, would have thought no more of dying to serve her or to please her than he would of throwing one of those pebbles into that slimy water.

Well, her pure tears somehow cooled his hot brain, and washed his soul, and left him wondering at himself and his misdeeds this night. His guardian angel seemed to go by and wave her dewy wings, and fan his hot pa.s.sions as she pa.s.sed.

He kneeled down and thanked G.o.d he had not met Arthur Wardlaw in that dark lane.

Then he went home to his humble lodgings, and there buried himself; and from that day seldom went out, except to seek employment. He soon obtained it as a copyist.

Meantime the police were on his track, employed by a person with a gentle disposition, but a tenacity of purpose truly remarkable.

Great was Seaton's uneasiness when one day he saw Hexham at the foot of his stair; greater still, when the officer's quick eye caught sight of him, and his light foot ascended the stairs directly. He felt sure Hexham had heard of his lurking about General Rolleston's premises. However, he prepared to defend himself to the uttermost.

Hexham came into his room without ceremony, and looking mighty grim.

”Well, my lad, so we have got you, after all.”

”What is my crime now?” asked Seaton sullenly.

”James,” said the officer, very solemnly, ”it is an unheard-of crime this time. You have been running away from a pretty girl. Now that is a mistake at all times; but, when she is as beautiful as an angel, and rich enough to slip a flyer into d.i.c.k Hexham's hands, and lay him on your track, what _is_ the use? Letter for _you,_ my man.”

Seaton took the letter, with a puzzled air. It was written in a clear but feminine hand, and slightly scented.

The writer, in a few polished lines, excused herself for taking extraordinary means to find Mr. Seaton; but hoped he would consider that he had laid her under a deep obligation, and that grat.i.tude will sometimes be importunate. She had the pleasure to inform him that the office of s.h.i.+pping clerk at Messrs. White & Co.'s was at his service, and she hoped he would take it without an hour's further delay, for that she was a.s.sured that many persons had risen to wealth and consideration in the colony from such situations.

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