<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_LIX">CHAPTER LIX.</SPAN><br/> <span class="small1">IN A ROCKY BOWER.</span></h2>
<p>I never hear of a man's impatience without sagely reflecting
upon the rapid flight of time, when age draws on, and business
thickens, and all the glory of this world must soon be left
behind us. From the date of my great catch of fish and landing
of Bardie at Pool Tavan, to the day of my guiding the
British fleet betwixt the shoals of Syracuse, more than sixteen
years had passed, and scarce left time to count them.</p>
<p>Therefore it was but a natural thing that the two little
maidens with whom I began should now be grown up, and
creating a stir in the minds of young men of the neighbourhood.
Early in this present month of July, that north-west
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_404">[Pg 404]</SPAN></span>
breeze, which was baffling our fleet off the coast of Anatolia,
was playing among the rocks of Sker with the curls and skirts
and ribbons of these two fair young damsels.</p>
<p>Or rather with the ribbons of one, for Bunny alone wore
streamers, wherein her heart delighted; while the maid of Sker
was dressed as plainly as if she had been her servant. Not
that her inborn love of brightness ever had abandoned her, but
that her vanities were put down quite arrogantly by Master
Berkrolles whenever she came back from Candleston; and but
for her lessons in music there—which were beyond Roger's
compass—he would have raised his voice against her visits to
the good Colonel.</p>
<p>For the old man's heart was entirely fixed upon the graceful
maiden, and his chief anxiety was to keep her out of the way
of harm. He knew that the Colonel loved nothing better (as
behoved his lineage) than true and free hospitality; and he
feared that the simple and nameless girl might set her affections
on some grand guest, who would scorn her derelict
origin.</p>
<p>Now she led Bunny into a cave, or rather a snug little cove
of rock, which she always called her cradle, and where she had
spent many lonely hours, in singing pure Welsh melodies of
the sweetest sadness, feeling a love of the desert places from
her own desertion. Then down she sate in her chair of stone,
with limpets and barnacles studding it; while Bunny in the
established manner bounced down on a pebble and gazed at
her.</p>
<p>My son's daughter was a solid girl, very well built as our
family is, and raking most handsomely fore and aft. Her fine
black eyes, and abiding colour, and the modesty inherited from
her grandfather, and some reflection perhaps of his fame, made
her a favourite everywhere. And any grandfather might well
have been proud to see how she carried her dress off.</p>
<p>The younger maid sate right above her, quite as if Nature
had ordered it so; and drew her skirt of home-spun camlet over
her dainty feet, because the place was wet and chilly. And
anybody looking must have said that she was born to grace.
The clear outlines of oval face and delicate strength of forehead
were moulded as by Nature only can such dainty work be done.
Gentle pride and quiet moods of lonely meditation had deepened
and subdued the radiance of the large grey eyes, and changed
the dancing mirth of childhood into soft intelligence. And it
must have been a fine affair, with the sunshine glancing on the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_405">[Pg 405]</SPAN></span>
breezy sea, to take a look at the lights and shadows of so clear
a countenance.</p>
<p>Bunny, like a frigate riding, doused her head and all her
outworks forward of the bends; and then hung fluttering and
doubtful, just as if she had missed stays.</p>
<p>"It is not your engagement, my dear Bunny," began Delushy,
as if she were ten years the senior officer; "you must not suppose
for a moment that I object to your engagement. It is
time, of course, for you to think, among so many suitors, of
some one to put up with, especially after what you told me
about having toothache. And Watkin is thoroughly good and
kind, and able to read quite respectably. But what I blame
you for is this, that you have not been straightforward, Bunny.
Why have you kept me in the dark about this one of your
many 'sweetheartings,' as you always call them?"</p>
<p>"And for sure, miss, then I never did no such thing; unless
it was that I thought you was wanting him."</p>
<p>"I! You surely cannot have thought it! I want Watkin
Thomas!"</p>
<p>"Well, miss, you need not fly out like that. All the girls
in Newton was after him. And if it wasn't you as wanted him,
it might be him as wanted you, which comes to the same thing
always."</p>
<p>"I don't quite think that it does, dear Bunny, though you
may have made it do so. Now look up and kiss me, dear:
you know that I love you very much, though I have a way of
saying things. And then I am longing to beg pardon when I
have vexed any one. It comes of my 'noble birth,' I suppose,
which the girls of Newton laugh about. How I wish that I
were but the child of the poorest good man in the parish!
But now I am tired of thinking of it. What good ever comes
of it? And what can one poor atom matter?"</p>
<p>"You are not a poor atom; you are the best, and the cleverest,
and most learnedest, and most beautifullest lady as ever
was seen in the whole of the land."</p>
<p>After or rather in the middle of which words, our Bunny, with
her usual vigour and true national ardour, leaped into the arms
of Delushy, so that they had a good cry together. "You will
wait, of course, for your Granny to come, before you settle anything."</p>
<p>"Will I, indeed?" cried that wicked Bunny, and lucky for
her that I was not there: "I shall do nothing of the sort. If
he chooses to be always away at sea, conquering the French for
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_406">[Pg 406]</SPAN></span>
ever, and never coming home when he can help it, he must
make up his mind to be surprised when he happens to come
home again. For sure then, that is right enough."</p>
<p>"Well, it does seem almost reasonable," answered the young
lady: "and I think sometimes that we have no right to expect
so much as that of things. It is not what they often do; and
so they lose the habit of it."</p>
<p>"I do not quite understand," said Bunny.</p>
<p>"And I don't half understand," said Bardie:—"but—oh my
dear, what shall I do? He is coming this way, I am sure.
And I would not have you know anything of it—and of course
you must feel that it is all nonsense. And I did not mean any
harm about 'courting;' only you ought to be out of the way,
and yet at the same time in it."</p>
<p>Our Bunny was such a slow-witted girl, and at the same time
so particular (inheriting slowness from her good mother, and
conscience from third generation), that really she could make
no hand at meeting such a crisis. For now she began to perceive
gold-lace, which alone discomfits the woman-race, and sets
their minds going upon what they love. And so she did very
little else but stare.</p>
<p>"I did think you would have helped me, Bunny," Delushy
cried, with aggrievement. "I wanted to hear your own affairs,
of course; but I would not have brought you here——"</p>
<p>"Young ladies, well met!" cried as solid a voice as the chops
of the Channel had ever tautened: "I knew that you were
here, and so I came down to look after you."</p>
<p>"Sure then, sir, and I do think that it is very kind of you.
We was just awanting looking after. Oh what a fish I do see
in that pool! Please only you now both to keep back. I
shall be back again, now just, sir." With these words away
flew Bunny, as if her life were set on it.</p>
<p>"What a fine creature, to be sure!" said Commander Bluett,
thoughtfully; "she reminds me so much of her grandfather.
There is something so strongly alike between them, in their
reckless outspoken honour, as well as in the turn of the nose
they have."</p>
<p>"Let us follow, and admire her a little more," cried Delushy:
"she deserves it, as you say; and perhaps—well perhaps she
likes it."</p>
<p>Young Rodney looked at her a little while, and then at the
ground a little while; because he was a stupid fellow as concerns
young women. He thought this one such a perfect wonder, as
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_407">[Pg 407]</SPAN></span>
may well be said of all of them. Then those two fenced about
a little, out of shot of each other's eyes.</p>
<p>There was no doubt between them as to the meaning of each
other. But they both seemed to think it wise to have a little
bit of vexing before doing any more. And thus they looked
at one another as if there was nothing between them. And all
the time, how they were longing!</p>
<p>"I must have yes or no:" for Rodney could not outlast the
young lady: "yes or no; you know what I mean. I am almost
always at sea; and to-morrow I start to join Nelson. With
him there is no play-work. I hope to satisfy him, though I
know what he is to satisfy. But I hope to do it."</p>
<p>"Of course you will," Delushy answered. "You seem to
give great satisfaction; almost everywhere, I am sure."</p>
<p>"Do I give it, you proud creature, where I long to give it
most?"</p>
<p>"How can I pretend to say, without being told in what latitude
even—as I think your expression is—this amiable desire
lies?"</p>
<p>"As if you did not know, Delushy!"</p>
<p>"As if I did know, Captain Bluett! And another thing—I
am not to be called 'Delushy,' much, in that way."</p>
<p>"Very well, then; much in another way. Delushy, Delushy,
delicious Delushy, what makes you so unkind to me?
To-morrow I go away, and perhaps we shall never meet again,
Delushy: and then how you would reproach yourself. Don't
you think you would now?"</p>
<p>"When never and then come together—yes. I suppose all
sailors talk so."</p>
<p>"If I cannot even talk to please you, there is nothing more
to say. I think that the bards have turned your head with
their harpings, and their fiddle-strings, and ballads (in very bad
Welsh, no doubt) about 'the charming maid of Sker;' and so
on. When you are old enough to know better, and the young
conceit wears out of you, you may be sorry, Miss Andalusia,
for your wonderful cleverness."</p>
<p>He made her a bow with his handsome hat, and her warm
young heart was chilled by it. Surely he ought to have shaken
hands. She tried to keep her own meaning at home, and bid
him farewell with a curtsy, while he tried not to look back
again; but fortune or nature was too much for them, and their
eyes met wistfully.</p>
<p>These things are out of my line so much, that I cannot pretend
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_408">[Pg 408]</SPAN></span>
to say now for a moment what these very young people
did; and everybody else having done the same, with more or
less unwisdom, according to constitution, may admire the
power of charity which restrains me from describing them.
My favourite writer of Scripture is St Paul, who was afraid of
nobody, and who spent his time in making sails when the
thorn in the flesh permitted him. And this great writer describes
the quick manners of maidens far better than I can.
Wherefore I keep myself up aloft until they have had a good
spell of it.</p>
<p>"I have no opinion, now. What can you expect of me?
Rodney, I must stop and think for nearly a quarter of a century
before I have an opinion."</p>
<p>"Then stay, just so; and let me admire you, till I have to
swim with you."</p>
<p>"Rodney, you are reckless. Here comes the tide; and you
know I have got my very best Candleston side-lace boots
on!"</p>
<p>"Then come out of this rocky bower, which suits your fate
so, darling; and let us talk most sensibly."</p>
<p>"By all means; if you think we can. There, you need not
touch me, Rodney;—I can get out very well indeed. I know
these rocks better than you do perhaps. Now sit on this rock
where old David first hooked me, as I have heard that old
chatterbox tell fifty times, as if he had done some great great
thing."</p>
<p>"He did indeed a grand grand thing. No wonder that he
is proud of it. And he has so much to be proud of that you
may take it for your highest compliment. Perhaps there is
no other man in the service—or I might say in all the civilised
world——" But it hurts me to tell what this excellent officer
said or even thought of me. He was such a first-rate judge
by this time that I must leave his opinion blank.</p>
<p>Over the sea they began to look, in a discontented quietude;
as the manner of young mortals is before they begin to know
better, and with great ideas moving them. Bunny, with the
very kindest discretion, had run away entirely, and might now
be seen at the far end of the sands, and springing up the rocks,
on her way to Newton. So those two sate side by side, with
their hearts full of one another, and their minds made up to
face the world together, whatever might come of it. For as
yet they could see nothing clearly through the warm haze of
loving, being wrapped up in an atmosphere which generally
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_409">[Pg 409]</SPAN></span>
leads to a hurricane. But to them, for a few short minutes,
earth and sea and sky were all one universal heaven.</p>
<p>"It will not do," cried the maid of Sker, suddenly awaking
with a short deep sigh, and drawing back her delicate hand
from the broad palm of young Rodney: "it will never, never
do. We must both be mad to think of it."</p>
<p>"Who could fail to be mad," he answered, "if you set the
example?"</p>
<p>"Now, don't be so dreadfully stupid, Rodney. What I say
is most serious. Of course you know the world better than I
do, as you told me yesterday, after sailing a dozen times round
it. But I am thinking of other things. Not of what the
world will say, but of what I myself must feel. And the first
of these things is that I cannot be cruelly ungrateful. It would
be the deepest ingratitude to the Colonel if I went on with it."</p>
<p>"Went on with it! What a way to speak! As if you
could be off with it when you pleased! And my good uncle
loves you like his own daughter; and so does my mother.
Now what can you mean?"</p>
<p>"As if you did not know indeed! Now, Rodney, do talk
sensibly. I ought to know, if any one does, what your uncle
and your mother are. And I know that they would rather see
your death in the Gazette than your marriage with an unknown,
nameless nobody like me, sir."</p>
<p>"Well, of course, we must take the chance of that," said
Captain Bluett, carelessly. "The Colonel is the best soul in
the world, and my dear mother a most excellent creature,
whenever she listens to reason. But as to my asking their
permission—it is the last thing I should dream of. I am old
enough to know my own mind, and to get my own living, I
should hope, as well as that of my family. And if I am only
in time with Nelson, of course we shall do wonders."</p>
<p>For a minute or two the poor young maid had not a word to
say to him. She longed to throw her arms around him, when
he spoke so proudly, and to indulge her own pride in him, as
against all the world beside. But having been brought up in
so much trouble, she had learned to check herself. So that she
did nothing more than wait for him to go on again. And this
he did with sparkling eyes and the confidence of a young
British tar.</p>
<p>"There is another thing, my beauty, which they are bound
to consider, as well as all the prize-money I shall earn. And
that is, that they have nobody except themselves to thank for
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_410">[Pg 410]</SPAN></span>
it. They must have known what was sure to happen, if they
chose to have you there whenever I was home from sea. And
my mother is so clever too—to my mind it is plain enough that
they meant me to do what I have done."</p>
<p>"And pray what is that?"</p>
<p>"As if you did not know! Come now, you must pay the
penalty of asking for a compliment. Talk about breeding and
good birth, and that stuff! Why, look at your hands and
then look at mine. Put your fingers between mine—both
hands, both hands—that's the way. Now just feel my great
clumsy things, and then see how lovely yours are—as clear as
wax-tapers, and just touched with rose, and every nail with a
fairy gift, and pointed like an almond. A 'nameless nobody'
indeed! What nameless nobody ever had such nails? By
way of contrast examine mine."</p>
<p>"Oh but you bite yours shockingly, Rodney. I am sure
that you do, though I never saw you. You must be cured of
that dreadful trick."</p>
<p>"That shall be your first job, Delushy, when you are Mrs
Rodney. Now for another great sign of birth. Do you see
any peak to my upper lip?"</p>
<p>"No, I can't say I do. But how foolish you are! I ought
to be crying, and you make me laugh."</p>
<p>"Then just let me show you the peak to yours. Honour
bright—and no mean advantages—that is to say if I can help
it. Oh, here's that blessed Moxy coming! May the Frenchmen
rob her hen-roost! Now just one promise, darling,
darling; just one little promise. To-morrow I go to most
desperate battles, and lucky to come home with one arm and
one leg. Therefore, promise a solemn promise to have no one
in the world but me."</p>
<p class="pmb3">"I think," said the maid, with her lips to his ear, in the
true old coaxing fashion, "that I may very well promise that.
But I will promise another thing too. And that is, not to
have even you, until your dear mother and good uncle come to
me and ask me. And that can never never be."</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_411">[Pg 411]</SPAN></span></p>
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