Part 4 (2/2)
”None belonging to you but father and mother?”
”I have no mother now,” said he, with an effort to utter the words unmoved; but the struggle was too much, and he had to turn away his head as he tried to suppress the sobbing that overcame him.
”I am very, very sorry to have pained you, my boy,” said Vyner, with kindness. ”Come down with me here, and see a little daughter of mine, who is nearly your own age.”
”I don't want to see her. I want to go ash.o.r.e.”
”So you shall, my boy; but you will eat something with us first, and see the strange place we live in. Come along;” and he took his hand to lead him forward.
”I could swim to the land if I liked,” said the boy, as he gazed down at the blue water.
”But you'll not have to swim, Harry.”
”Why do you call me Harry? I never knew _you_.”
”I have a better claim than you suspect. At least, I used to call your father John long ago.”
”Don't do it any more, then,” said he, defiantly.
”And why?”
”He wouldn't bear it--that is the why! Stand clear, there!” cried he to one of the sailors on the gangway. ”I'm off!” and he prepared himself for a run ere he jumped overboard, but just at this moment Ada tripped up the cabin ladder and stood before him. The long yellow ringlets fell on her shoulders and her neck, and her l.u.s.trous blue eyes were wide in astonishment at the figure in front of her. As for the boy, he gazed at her as at something of unearthly beauty. It was to his eyes that Queen of the Fairies who might have soared on a light cloud, or tripped daintily on the crest of the wide sea waves.
”Here is a playfellow for you, Ada,” said her father, as he led her towards him.
”It is Robinson Crusoe, papa,” said she, in a whisper.
The boy's quick ear had, however, caught the words, and he said quickly, ”I wish I was Robinson!” The speech seemed to strike some chord in the little girl's heart, for she went freely towards him at once, and said, ”Oh, wasn't it nice to live in that pretty island, and have everything one's own?”
”This island here is mine!” said the boy, proudly.
”Yes, Ada,” said Vyner, ”what he, says is quite correct; his father owns the whole of these islands. But come along into the cabin, Harry; I want you to see our home, though it is a very narrow one.”
With the gravity of a North American Indian, and with a self-possession that never broke down under every trial to which curiosity exposed it, the boy looked at all around him. If Aladdin himself Was not more wonder-struck at the splendours of the cave, he never for a moment betrayed his amazement. He ate and drank, too, with the same air of composure, and bore himself throughout with a quiet dignity that was remarkable. Ada displayed before him her prettiest toys, her games, and her picture-books, and was half piqued at the little evidences of astonishment they created. No suspicion crossed her mind how the colour that came and went and came again, how the hurried breathing, how the clammy fingers that trembled as they touched an object, were signs of emotion far deeper and more intense than all that a cry of wonderment could evidence.
”I suppose,” said she, at last, when impatience mastered her, ”you have got such ma.s.ses of these yourself, that you don't care for them?”
”I--I have nothing--nothing but a crossbow to shoot the seagulls, and a hatchet, and the hatchet is too heavy for me.”
”But what can you do with a hatchet?” asked she, smiling.
”Split logs, and cut a way through the thicket like fellows on an uninhabited island; or sometimes I think I'm fighting a bear. I'd like to fight a young bear!---wouldn't you?”
”I suspect not. Girls do not fight bears.”
”Ah, I forgot!” said he, blus.h.i.+ng deeply; and, ashamed of his blunder, he bent his head over a picture.
Meanwhile, Vyner and Grenfell were walking the deck and conversing in a low tone.
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