Part 5 (2/2)
Let it be understood that the old gentleman was employed in Yarmouth under one of the departments of the Board of Trade. We refrain from entering into particulars as to which department, lest the vindictive spirit which was accredited to that branch of the Government by Miss Katie--who being a lady, must of course have been right--should induce it to lay hold of our estimable friend and make an example of him for permitting his independent daughter to expose its true character. In addition to his office in this connection Mr Durant also held the position of a retired merchant and s.h.i.+p-owner, and was a man of considerable wealth, although he lived in a quiet unostentatious way.
In fact, his post under Government was retained chiefly for the purpose of extending his influence in his native town--for he counted himself a ”bloater”--and enabling him to carry out more vigorously his schemes of Christian philanthropy.
Cousin f.a.n.n.y Hennings was a ”darling girl” in Katie's estimation, probably because she was her opposite in many respects, though not in all. In good-humour and affection they were similar, but f.a.n.n.y had none of Katie's fire, or enthusiasm, or intellect, or mischief; she had, however, a great appreciation of fun, and was an inordinate giggler.
Fat, fair, and fifteen, with flaxen curls, pink cheeks, and blue eyes, she was the _beau-ideal_ of a wax-doll, and possessed about as much self-a.s.sertion as may be supposed to belong to that cla.s.s of the doll-community which is constructed so as to squeak when squeezed. As Katie Durant squeezed her friend pretty often, both mentally and physically, cousin f.a.n.n.y squeaked a good deal more than usual during her occasional visits to Yarmouth, and even after her return home to Margate, where she and her widowed mother dwelt--as Queeker poetically said--”in a cottage by the sea.” It was usually acknowledged by all her friends that f.a.n.n.y had increased her powers amazingly while absent, in so much that she learned at last to squeak on her own account without being squeezed at all.
After the cousins had talked in private until they had made themselves almost too late for the singing-cla.s.s, they issued from the house and betook themselves to the temple of music, where some amazing pieces were performed by some thirty young vocalists of both s.e.xes to their own entire satisfaction, and to the entire dissatisfaction, apparently, of their teacher, whose chief delight seemed to be to check the flow of gus.h.i.+ng melody at a critical point, and exclaim, ”Try it again!” Being ignorant of cla.s.sical music we do not venture to give an opinion on these points, but it is important to state, as bearing on the subject in a sanitary point of view, that all the pupils usually left the cla.s.s in high spirits, with the exception of Queeker, who had a voice like a cracked tea-kettle, knew no more about music than Katie's cat--which he adored because it was Katie's--and who went to the cla.s.s, which was indebted for its discord chiefly to him, wholly and solely because Katie Durant went to it, and thus afforded him an opportunity of occasionally shaking hands with her.
On the present evening, however, being of a shy disposition, he could not bring himself to face cousin f.a.n.n.y. He therefore left the hall miserable, and went home with desperate intentions as to the moon.
Unfortunately that luminary was not visible, the sun having just set, but from his bedroom window, which commanded a view of the roadstead, he beheld the lantern of the Saint Nicolas Gatt floating-light, and addressed the following lines to it with all the fervour incident to a hopeless affection:--
”Why blaze, ye bright benignant beaming star, Guiding the homebound seaman from afar, Lighting the outbound wand'rer on his way, With all the lightsome perspicuity of day?
Why not go out at once! and let be hurl'd Dark, dread, unmitigated darkness o'er the world?
Why should the heavenly constellations s.h.i.+ne?
Why should the weather evermore be fine?
Why should this rolling ball go whirling round?
Why should the noise of mirth and music sound?
Why should the sparrow chirp, the blackbird sing, The mountains echo, and the valleys ring, With all that's cheerful, humorous, and glad, Now that my heart is smitten and my brain gone mad?”
Queeker fetched a long deep-drawn sigh at this point, the agony of intense composition being for a moment relaxed. Then, catching his breath and glaring, he went on in a somewhat gentler strain--
”Forgive me, Floating-light, and you, ye sun, Moon, stars, and elements of Nature, every one; I did but vent my misery and spleen In utt'ring words of fury that I hardly mean.
At least I do in part--but hold! why not?
Oh! cease ye fiendish thoughts that rage and plot To bring about my ruin. Hence! avaunt!
Or else in pity tell me what you want.
I cannot live, and yet I would not die!
My hopes are blighted! Where, oh whither shall I fly?
'Tis past! I'll cease to daily with vain sophistry, And try the virtue of a calm philosophy.”
The effect of composition upon Queeker was such that when he had completed his task he felt greatly tranquillised, and, having shut up his portfolio, formed the sudden resolution of dropping in upon the Durants to tea.
Meantime, and before the love-sick youth had begun the lines above quoted, Katie and her cousin walked home by a road which conducted them close past the edge of those extensive sandy plains called the Denes of Yarmouth. Here, at the corner of a quiet street, they were arrested by the sobbing of a little boy who sat on a railing by the roadside, swaying himself to and fro in an agony of grief.
Katie's sympathetic heart was instantly touched. She at once went up to the boy, and made earnest inquiries into the cause of his distress.
”Please, ma'am,” said the boy, ”I've lost a s.h.i.+llin', and I can't find it nowheres. Oh, wot ever shall I do? My mother gave it me to give with two other bobs to my poor sick brother whom I've comed all this way to see, and there I've gone an' lost it, an' I'll 'ave to lay out all night in the cold, for I dursn't go to see 'im without the money--boo, hoo!”
”Oh, how _very_ unfortunate!” exclaimed Katie with real feeling for the boy, whose soul was thus steeped to all appearance in woe unutterable, was very small, and very dirty and ragged, and had an extremely handsome intelligent face, with a profusion of wild brown curls. ”But I can make that up to you, poor boy,” she added, drawing out her purse, ”here is a s.h.i.+lling for you. Where do you live?”
”At Ramsgate, ma'am.”
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