Part 30 (1/2)
Count Gustav looked at her little delicate hand lying on the coverlet, and then at the worn little face.
”You've been crying,” he said.
”Ah, that was only last night after I went to bed,” Beth answered. ”It makes you cry when people aren't saved, doesn't it? Are you saved? If you're not it will be awful for me.”
”Why?”
”'Cos it would hurt so here to think of you burning in h.e.l.l”--Beth clasped her chest. ”It always begins to ache here--in the evening--for the people who aren't saved, and when I go to bed it makes me cry.”
”Who told you about being saved, and that?”
”Aunt Victoria. She lives with us, you know. She's going away now to pay a visit, because the boys are coming home, and Mildred, for the holidays, and there wouldn't be room for her. I'm dreadfully sorry; but I shall go to church, and read the Bible just the same when she's away.”
Count Gustav sat down on the end of the saloon-table and reflected a little; then he said--”I wouldn't read anything, if I were you, while Aunt Victoria's away. Just play about with Mildred and the boys, and come out fis.h.i.+ng with me sometimes. G.o.d doesn't want _you_ to save people. He does that Himself. I expect He's very angry because you cry at night. He thinks you don't trust Him. All He wants you to do is to love Him, and trust Him, and be happy. That's the creed for a little girl.”
”Do you think so?” Beth gasped. Then she began to reflect, and her big grey eyes slowly dilated, while at the same time a look of intense relief relaxed the muscles of her pinched little face. ”Do you think so?” she repeated. Then suddenly she burst into tears.
Count Gustav, somewhat disconcerted, hurriedly handed her a handkerchief.
Another gentleman came into the saloon at the moment, and raised inquiring eyebrows.
”Only a little martyr, momentarily released from suffering, enjoying the reaction,” Count Gustav observed. ”Come on deck, and let her sleep. Do you hear, little lady, go to sleep.”
Beth, docile to a fault when gently handled, nestled down among the blankets, shut her eyes, and prepared to obey. The sound of the water rippling off the sides of the yacht as it glided on smoothly over the summer-sea both soothed and cheered her. Heavenly thoughts came crowding into her mind; then sleep surprised her, with the tears she had been shedding for the sufferings of others still wet upon her cheek. When she awoke, her clothes were beside her, ready to put on.
She jumped up instantly, dressed, and went on deck. The yacht was almost stationary, and the two gentlemen, attended by the black Dane, Gard, were fis.h.i.+ng. Away to starboard, the land lay like a silver mist in the heat of the afternoon. Beth turned her sorrowful little face towards it.
”Are you homesick, Beth?” Count Gustav asked.
”No, sick of home,” Beth answered; ”but I suppose I shall have to go back.”
”And what then?”
”Mamma will punish me for jumping into the harbour, I expect.”
”_Jumping_ in!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, and then a great gravity settled upon him, and he cogitated for some time. ”Why did you jump in?” he said at last.
”Because mamma--because mamma--” her chest heaved. She was ashamed to say.
Count Gustav exchanged glances with the other gentleman, and said no more. But he took her home himself in the evening, and had a long talk with mamma and Aunt Victoria; and after he had gone they were both particularly nice to Beth, but very solemn. That night, too, Aunt Victoria did not mention death and the judgment, but talked of heaven and the mercy of G.o.d until Beth's brow cleared, and she was filled with hope.
It was the next day that Aunt Victoria left them to make room for Mildred and the boys. Beth went with her mother to see the old lady off at the station. On account of their connections the little party attracted attention, and Mrs. Caldwell, feeling her importance, expected the officials to be obsequious, which they were; and, in return, she also expected Aunt Victoria to make proper acknowledgment of their attentions. She considered that sixpence at least was necessary to uphold the dignity of the family on such occasions; but, to her horror, when the moment came, Aunt Victoria, after an exciting fumble, drew from her reticule a tract ent.i.tled ”The Man on the Slant,” and, in the face of everybody, handed it to the expectant porter.
Mrs. Caldwell a.s.sured Lady Benyon afterwards that she should never forget that moment. Beth used to wonder why.
CHAPTER XVIII
The end of the holidays found Beth in a very different mood. Jim had come with the ideas of his adolescence, and Mildred had brought new music, and these together had helped to take her completely out of herself. The rest from lessons, too--from her mother's method of making education a martyrdom, and many more hours of each day than usual spent in the open air, had also helped greatly to ease her mind and strengthen her body, so that, even in the time, which was only a few weeks, she had recovered her colour, shot up, and expanded.