Part 3 (2/2)
”It don't rain and thunder now,” she remarked quietly. ”It was awful; the waves talked, and something said, 'Poor little Phebe! the pearls are looking at you, and will take you down in their beautiful home, where you belong, if the storm don't stop'--but it did, and I went to sleep.
Where are the pearls? It's cold down there, and what made them throw me on the waves?” Thus Phebe mused while the winds died away and the waves were calmed, and as the s.h.i.+p settled down into quiet on the dark sea, she turned to the frightened inmates of the cabin with the expression: ”Guess He _did_,” and getting off her seat crept softly to her bed.
In the elegant yacht seen in the morning, another pair of dark eyes was gazing through the window of the stateroom into the rapidly gathering storm. Evidently it had changed its course, and instead of making its way southward along the coast, it was now laboring to gain the open sea.
The eyes were wild in their burning excitement, as the blackness became more intense and the billows roared as they dashed against the brave craft. There was no gathering of the ”precious gems” into the soul of the stately lady, for her memory was full of a sad record, from which she could not shut her thoughts. She turned almost fiercely towards the calm figure reclining on the sofa opposite, exclaiming: ”Lillian, you anger me. What are you lying there for, when such a terrible storm is out upon the sea? Do you not know that we are not going towards Mobile at all, but are sailing as rapidly as the winds can drive us out into--n.o.body knows where?”
”Eternity, perhaps,” was the quiet response.
”Are you trying to torture me, child?”
”This should not do it, Mother, for your pallid, pinched face tells me that I have given you no new thought. We are in danger, as you know, and many have come where we are never to a sh.o.r.e again.”
Mrs. Belmont was silent. Her wild gaze turned once more out of the window, and the daughter mused on.
At last. ”If Pearl only knew, I could lie down under a friendly billow peacefully--yes, gladly.”
”Will you persist, Lillian?”
”He is my husband and the father of my child.”
A moment's silence.
”How terrible! That peal was directly over us!”
The stately head dropped upon the white arm extended across the heavy bar of iron to which she was clinging, while the shouts and heavy hurried feet made a dismal accompaniment to the confusion all about her.
Lillian spoke.
”Mother, with death in the air and on the sea, tell me, _where_ is my child?”
”In heaven, I hope,” and for once she spoke truly.
”If not there, do you know where she is?”
”She is there. I will not endure your suspicions, Lillian! Never ask me concerning your child again.”
The stately lady attempted to rise, but fell back insensible upon the chair. When consciousness was restored the fury of the storm was pa.s.sed, and Mrs. Belmont, weak and dispirited, moaned upon her bed until the sea-sick pa.s.sengers landed safely at their destination.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
CHAPTER IV.
RECEPTION NIGHT AT THE NEW HOME.
Not many miles from Boston there stands a small, white cottage a few rods back from the main road, with a cool, shady lane leading to the lawn by which it is surrounded. Around this stands many wide-spreading maples, which cast their shadows over roses and honeysuckles when the sun is hottest, while the summer breezes linger among the branches to fan the noonday loungers, who, weary with their morning's toil in the field, seek rest beneath their shades. In the rear a garden stretches its way down to a little brook, which winds itself hither and thither through the tall meadow gra.s.s, singing softly to the gay lilies which hang their heads over its banks. The brook pa.s.ses on through the narrow strip of pines that had carpeted the path on its margin with soft matting until it reaches a fair and picturesque lake, lying snugly nestled in the bright green basin the surrounding hills have made for it. Trees stand upon the water's edge and dip their long, pendant branches playfully into the blue beneath them, and white waxen lilies with their pure petals deck the bosom of the sleeping beauty, and rise and fall mechanically as the breezes pa.s.s over the surface.
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