Part 3 (1/2)

”Well, now,” he said, ”what think you of this case? The skipper whom we rescued this afternoon, along with his wife, told me that he has been reduced to beggary. He owned the vessel which now lies out on the rocks there, a total wreck. It was his last venture. He had put all that he possessed into it, and not a sc.r.a.p of the cargo will be saved. Having been a lucky man all his life previously, he said he had determined to `chance his luck' this time, and did not insure vessel or cargo: so that all is gone. His wife and several children are dependent on him. He has no relatives rich enough, or willing enough, to help him; and, poor fellow, he has received injuries while being rescued, which will probably render him helpless for the rest of his life. Now, do you think that good will come out of all that?”

”I am _sure_ it will,” returned Miss Millet confidently, ”and good to _him_ too if he seeks it; though of course I know not how or when.”

”But why are you so sure?”

”Because, Jeff, it is written that G.o.d does not `afflict the children of men willingly.' He does it for their good, and that good cannot fail of accomplishment, unless they refuse the good and choose the evil.”

Again Jeff became silent and thoughtful. ”I have meditated much of late,” he said, ”about Captain Millet's adventure in China--”

”By the way,” interrupted Miss Millet, ”that reminds me that the captain's little girl Rose--Rosebud, as he calls her--is to come here this very evening to stay with me for a week.”

”Indeed? that will be pleasant, auntie. I must come and see her as an old acquaintance.”

”Oh yes, you must, Jeff. You've no idea what a sweet girl she has become. I am quite charmed with her--so modest, and unselfish, and clever, and good, and--and, in short, I call her the four F's, for she is fair, fragile, fervent, and funny.”

”What a catalogue!” exclaimed the youth, laughing; ”you may well be charmed with her. But what do you mean by funny? Does she try to make people laugh?”

”Oh dear, no! In company she can scarce be made to speak at all, but she _is_ so fond of fun--has such a lively appreciation of humour, and laughs _so_ heartily. She has grown quite into a woman since I last saw her when her father went to sea. There she is!”

Miss Millet sprang from her chair with the agility almost of a young woman, and ran to open the door, for a cab was heard pulling up in front of the cottage.

There was a delighted little shriek from ”Auntie!” and the warmest salutations of welcome; and the next moment Miss Millet, with the captain's daughter, arm in arm, embracing one another, entered the parlour.

The coastguardsman was transfixed, for there, before him, flushed and panting, stood--

”A maid with eyes of heavenly blue, And rippling hair of golden hue; With parted lips of Coral too, Disclosing pearls--and--”

All the rest of it! Yes, no wonder that Jeffrey Benson was transfixed.

Still less wonder that Rosebud stood in much the same condition; for, a young giant in pilot-cloth, damp and dirty, dishevelled, bespattered with mud, tied up about the fingers and plastered over the nose, was not precisely what she had expected to find in Aunt Millet's parlour.

They were soon introduced, however, and on the best of terms; for the shrinking from Jeff's filthy appearance changed in a moment to hero-wors.h.i.+p in the romantic heart of Rose, when she was told the cause of the youth's condition, and heard all the details of the rescue from his own manly lips.

It was love at first sight with both of them; more than that, it was first love at first sight! We have profound sympathy with young people thus circ.u.mstanced, especially when they are reticent, and don't give way to sentimental silliness. A good manly and womanly case of this sort of love, in which the parties concerned take a serious header and go deep down, without the smallest intention of ever coming up again, is pleasant to contemplate and agreeable to record.

Of course it must not be supposed that Rose Millet understood what had happened. She was fully aware, indeed, that something unusual had occurred within her inexperienced breast, but she quietly set it down to hero-wors.h.i.+p. She had read Carlyle on that subject. She had seen occasional reference in newspapers and magazines to lifeboat work, and she had been thrilled by the record of n.o.ble deeds done by heroic seamen and coastguardsmen. At last it was her lot to come athwart one of those heroes. He quite came up to her conception--nay, more than came up to it! She regarded Jeff with feelings approaching to awe. The idea of love in connection with a damp, dirty, wounded, nose-plastered, hair-ravelled giant, with beard enough to make an average hearth-broom, never entered her fair head. If suggested to her she would have laughed it to scorn--had it been possible for one so bright and ”funny” to become scornful.

As for Jeff--he more than suspected what had happened in regard to himself. His experience of life had been varied and extensive for his years--at least in a nautical direction--and that is saying a great deal.

”Done for!” he remarked to himself that evening, as he left the residence of Miss Millet and sauntered slowly homeward, divesting his fingers of the wrappings in an absent manner as he went along; but he forgot the plastered nose, and was taken to task about it by his comrades.

”Why, wherever did you get the stickin'-plaster?” asked David Bowers, an Anglo-Saxon much like himself in form and size, only that his locks and beard were yellow instead of dark brown.

”From a friend,” replied Jeff.

”A female friend?” asked Bowers, with a sly glance.

”Yes,” replied Jeff, so promptly, and with a look of such benignity, that the Anglo-Saxon felt constrained to give up his intended badinage.

That night curiously enough, Rose and Jeff were beset by dreams exactly similar in kind, though slightly modified in form. Both were in the midst of howling blasts and raging billows; but while the one was saving a fair and slender girl in circ.u.mstances of great but scorned risk, the other was being rescued by a young giant with a brown beard, in a style the most heroic, and in the midst of dangers the most appalling.