Part 39 (2/2)
”When the 'Debby and Dolly' is fairly in the water, you will do me the pleasure of letting me know it.”
”Count on me, Sir John. Before we part, I have, however, a small favor to ask.”
”Name it.”
Here Noah drew out of his pocket a sort of ba.s.so relievo carved in pine.
It represented Neptune armed with a harpoon instead of a trident; the captain always contending that the G.o.d of the seas should never carry the latter, but that, in its place, he should be armed either with the weapon he had given him, or with a boat-hook. On the right of Neptune was an English gentleman holding out a bag of guineas. On the other was a female who, I was told, represented the G.o.ddess of liberty, while it was secretly a rather flattering likeness of Miss Poke. The face of Neptune was supposed to have some similitude to that of her husband. The captain, with that modesty which is invariably the companion of merit in the arts, asked permission to have a copy of this design placed on the schooner's stern. It would have been churlish to refuse such a compliment; and I now offered Noah my hand, as the time for parting had arrived. The sealer grasped me rather tightly, and seemed disposed to say more than adieu.
”You are going to see an angel, Sir John.”
”How!--Do you know anything of Miss Etherington?”
”I should be as blind as an old b.u.mboat else. During our late v'y'ge, I saw her often.”
”This is strange!--But there is evidently something on your mind, my friend; speak freely.”
”Well, then, Sir John, talk of anything but of our v'y'ge, to the dear crittur. I do not think she is quite prepared yet to hear of all the wonders we saw.”
I promised to be prudent; and the captain, shaking me cordially by the hand, finally wished me farewell. There were some rude touches of feeling in his manner, which reacted on certain chords in my own system; and he had been gone several minutes before I recollected that it was time to go to the Hotel de Castile. Too impatient to wait for a carriage, I flew along the streets on foot, believing that my own fiery speed would outstrip the zigzag movement of a fiacre or a cabriolet tie flace.
Dr. Etherington met me at the door of his appartement, and led me to an inner room without speaking. Here he stood gazing, for some time, in my face, with paternal concern.
”She expects you, Jack, and believes that you rang the bell.”
”So much the better, dear sir. Let us not lose a moment; let me fly and throw myself at her feet, and implore her pardon.”
”For what, my good boy?”
”For believing that any social stake can equal that which a man feels in the nearest, dearest ties of earth!”
The excellent rector smiled, but he wished to curb my impatience.
”You have already every stake in society, Sir John Goldencalf,” he answered--a.s.suming the air which human beings have, by a general convention, settled shall be dignified--”that any reasonable man can desire. The large fortune left by your late father, raises you, in this respect, to the height of the richest in the land; and now that you are a baronet, no one will dispute your claim to partic.i.p.ate in the councils of the nation. It would perhaps be better, did your creation date a century or two nearer the commencement of the monarchy; but, in this age of innovations, we must take things as they are, and not as we might wish to have them.”
I rubbed my forehead, for the doctor had incidentally thrown out an embarra.s.sing idea.
”On your principle, my dear sir, society would be obliged to begin with its great-grandfathers to qualify itself for its own government.”
”Pardon me, Jack, if I have said anything disagreeable--no doubt all will come right in heaven. Anna will be uneasy at our delay.”
This suggestion drove all recollection of the good rector's social-stake system, which was exactly the converse of the social-stake system of my late ancestor, quite out of my head. Springing forward, I gave him reason to see that he would have no farther trouble in changing the subject. When we had pa.s.sed an antechamber, he pointed to a door, and admonis.h.i.+ng me to be prudent, withdrew.
My hand trembled as it touched the door-k.n.o.b, but the lock yielded. Anna was standing in the middle of the room (she had heard my footsteps), an image of womanly loveliness, womanly faith, and womanly feeling. By a desperate effort, she was, however, mistress of her emotions. Though her pure soul seemed willing to fly to meet me, she obviously restrained the impulse, in order to spare my nerves.
”Dear Jack!”--and both her soft, white, pretty little hands met me, as I eagerly approached.
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