ruth’s hopes as to her plot brighten a little.
“mother,” said ruth one day to her dignified parent, “shall you be soon free of engagements?”
“yes, probably by the end of next week. why do you ask?”
“because i am longing to get away to yarmouth. i had a letter from dear kate seaward to-day. they have been a week in their lodging now, and are enjoying it immensely. here is the letter. let me read a bit of it to you. she says: ‘you have no idea how much we are charmed with this place. it is a perfect paradise! perhaps part of our feeling of delight is due to the great change from our smoky little residence in london, but you would not wonder at my enthusiasm if you saw the sweet little window beside which i am writing, and the splendid sea—like a great field of clear glass, which spreads away on all sides to the horizon. oh! i do love the sea—to look at, i mean. you must not suppose, dear, that i have any love left when i am on it. oh no! the memory of my last crossing of the channel—that dreadful british channel—is as fresh as if it had happened yesterday—the heaving of the steamer and the howling of the wind, the staggering of the passengers, and the expression of their faces, to say nothing of their colour. and then the sensations! appalling is a mild word. it is not appropriate. if i might coin a word, horrific seems more suitable. but words utterly fail when deep and powerful sensations are concerned. i do assure you, ruth, that i was absolutely indifferent as to what should become of me that dreadful day as i lay extended flat on my back on one of the saloon sofas. and when that nurse with the baby was forced by a lurch of the ship to sit down on me, i do believe that i could have thanked her if she had crushed me out of existence. yes, i hate the sea as a place of residence, but i love it as an object to be looked at, especially when it is calm and glittering, as it now is, in the early morning sun.
“talking of the early morning reminds me of good captain bream, who is one of the most singular and incomprehensible creatures i ever met with. he is an early riser—not that that makes him singular—but instead of going out to walk he remains up in his pigeon-hole of a room studying theology! and such a miscellaneous collection of books he has got on all sorts of religious controversy! he say he wants to be able to meet the objections of unbelievers whom he sometimes encounters when preaching to sailors. jessie and i have heard him preach to a number of sailors and fishermen assembled in an old boat-shed, and you have no idea, ruth, how delightful it is to hear him. so different from what one expected, and so very unlike the preaching of many men. i have often wondered why it is that some men—sensible men, too, in other matters—should think it necessary to talk in a sing-song, or whiny voice, with a pathetic drawl, or through their noses, when they have to speak on religious subjects! i once heard an indignant clergyman say that he thought it was a device of the devil to turn sacred things into ridicule, but i cannot agree with that. it seems to me that men are often too ready to saddle satan with evil devices which they ought to fix on their own stupid shoulders. captain bream simply talks when he preaches; just as if he were talking on any business matter of great importance, and he does it so nicely, too, and so earnestly, like a father talking to his children. many of the rough-looking fishermen were quite melted, and after the meeting a good many of them remained behind to talk with him privately. jessie and i are convinced that he is doing a great and good work here. but he is a most eccentric man, and seems a good deal perplexed by his theological studies. the other day jessie ventured to question him about these, and he became quite energetic as he said:—
“‘i tell ’ee what it is, ladies, when i go cruisin’ out and in among these theological volumes until i lose my reckoning altogether an’ git among shoals an’ quicksands that i never so much as heard of before, i just lay hold o’ the cable that’s made fast to my sheet-anchor, and i haul in on that. here is the sheet-anchor, he said, pulling his little bible from his pocket, the word of god. that’s it. when i feel how ignorant an’ stoopid an’ unlearned i am, i just keep haulin’ on the cable till i come to some such word as this, “not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, saith the lord,” an’ so i’m comforted, an’ my mind’s made easy, for, after all we may think and say and read, it must come to this—“let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind.” every man must work out his own theology for himself, accordin’ to that word, and i’ve worked it out so far by god’s blessin’, that jesus christ—the god—man—is my foundation, the holy spirit is my guide, and salvation from sin is my aim and end—not only for myself but for my fellow-sinners.
“‘but i must not go on quoting the captain’s sayings and eccentric doings, else i shall never stop.
“‘when are you and your mother coming down? i cannot tell how much we long to have you with us to share in our enjoyment of this charming place. and the fisher-people are so interesting too. i don’t wonder you took such a fancy to them. of course we have not had time to make acquaintance with many of them yet. and jessie has become so engrossed with the captain’s theological books that i can’t tear her away from them. at first she began to inspect their contents with a view to tabulate them and help the captain, but she gets so deep in them that she forgets time altogether, and i have often found her, after having been several hours in the library, sitting there poring over a huge volume without having made a single note or jotting! the captain is quite facetious about it, and said yesterday that if she didn’t work a little harder he’d have to dismiss her from the service an’ ship a new hand. then he dragged us both out for a long walk on the beach. we cannot resist him. nobody can. and such cream as we have!—more like thin butter than cream. and such quantities of it too, for he declares he is very fond of it, and must always have plenty on hand. but i cannot help thinking it is for our sakes he has it, for although he talks much about it and makes great demonstration and noise when he drinks it, he does not really consume much—and you know it must be drunk by somebody, else it would spoil. oh! we are having, as the captain himself says, a remarkably jolly time of it here, and only want you to make our happiness complete. but with all his fun and energy and cheerfulness, i cannot avoid noticing that dear captain bream is frequently very pensive and absent. i cannot help thinking sometimes that he is the victim of some secret sorrow.’”
at this point ruth looked up in her mother’s face and burst into a fit of hilarious laughter.
“only think, mother,” she said, “of great big, stout, jolly old captain bream having a secret sorrow!”
“my dear,” said mrs dotropy in a reproachful tone, “you are too flippant in your references to stout old people. you should remember that even the stoutest of them may once have been thin. and it is not impossible that captain bream may still be suffering from unrequited affection, or—”
again ruth burst into silvery laughter, but checked it and apologised.
“i can’t help it mother. it does seem so funny to think of captain bream having ever been thin, or with hair on his head, or suffering from disappointed love. i wonder that it does not occur to kate that the good man is perhaps suffering because of the sorrows of others. it would be much more like his generous and unselfish nature. but now, mother, may i write to kate and tell her to expect us next week?”
“yes, i think you may. but why are you in such haste, child?”
“because i’m burning to clear up that little mystery that i told you of—if indeed it is a mystery, and not a mere fancy.”
ruth sighed as if her spirit were slightly troubled. “really, child, you have quite raised my curiosity about that mystery as you call it. why will you not confide in me?”
“because i may be all wrong, and when i find out that i’m right—if i find out that i’m right—then you shall know all about it.”
“and there’s that chest, too, that the captain sent here for us to take care of when he left town,” continued mrs dotropy, “you make quite a mystery about that too, for i see that you know something about it. if i had not perfect confidence in your heart, child, i should feel quite anxious, for it is the first time in your life that you have concealed anything from me.”
“thank you, mother, for trusting my heart,” said ruth, putting an arm round the dignified lady’s neck and kissing her.
“that’s all very well, ruth, but i do not put so much trust in your head.”
“i’m sorry for that, mother, but meantime my head says that while it would be wrong in me to keep any secret about myself from you, i have no right to reveal the secrets of others. but about this chest—has the banker sent for it yet?”
“no, not yet but i expect some one from the bank every minute, (she consulted a small jewelled watch), and it is probable that our young friend mr dalton himself may come.”
“mr dalton!” exclaimed ruth, with a sudden flush that might have indicated pleasure or annoyance. mrs dotropy, however, did not observe the flush, but continued—
“the chest seems miraculously heavy. i told james to put it into the store-room, but he could not lift it, although he is a strong man, and had to get the butler’s assistance.”
at that moment the conversation was interrupted by the door being thrown open, and mr dalton was announced.
he was a young man of handsome face and figure, with dark eyes, short curly hair, and a pleasing address.
apologising for not being more punctual in calling for the chest, he explained that pressing-business had detained him.
“of course, of course,” said mrs dotropy, with the familiarity of an old friend—for such she was to the youth—“you men of business always carry about that cloak of pressing-business to cover your sins and shortcomings with.”
“nay, you are unjust,” said the young man, “i appeal to miss ruth. did i not say to captain bream that i might perhaps have difficulty in getting away at the hour named, as it was a business hour, and, the transaction being of a friendly and private nature—”
“my dear sir,” interrupted mrs dotropy, “if it is private, pray do not make it public.”
“has not miss ruth, then, told you—”
he stopped and looked from one lady to the other.
“miss ruth,” said that young lady, flushing deeply, “is supposed to know nothing whatever about your transactions with captain bream. shall i go and tell james to carry the box down-stairs, mother?”
mrs dotropy gave permission, and ruth retired. a few minutes later, young dalton drove away with the captain’s chest of gold.
a week after that the mother and daughter drove away from the same door to the railway station, and in process of time found themselves one pleasant afternoon at yarmouth, in the little parlour with the window that commanded the gorgeous view of the sea, taking tea with the captain himself and his friends jessie and kate seaward.
a lodging had been secured quite close to their own by the dotropys.
“now,” said ruth to jessie that evening in private, with flushed cheeks and eager eyes, “i shall be able to carry out my little plot, and see whether i am right, now that i have at last got captain bream down to yarmouth.”
“what little plot?” asked jessie.
“i may not tell you yet,” said ruth with a laugh. “i shall let you know all about it soon.”
but ruth was wrong. there was destined to be a slip ’twixt the cup and her sweet lip just then, for that same evening captain bream received a telegram from london, which induced him to leave yarmouth hastily to see a friend, he said, and keep an old-standing engagement. he promised, however, to be back in two or three days at furthest.
