In a Sea Bird's Nest. A series of stories, some allegorical

Front matter

In o §>eo Bird's Desf (Vide sage 130.^ Ir* a Sea gird's Nest A SERIES OF STORIES, SOME ALLEGORICAL By Frances Clare Author of "A Store of Stories" LONDON Skeffington and Son, Piccadilly, W. Publishers to H.R.H. the Prince of Wales MDCCCXCVI TO (gerpf THESE STORIES ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. Preface. Some of the Allegorical Stories in this book appeared not long since, under the title " A Child's Pilgrimage." The reception awarded to this little book was so cordial,* that the edition was speedily exhausted. The publishers have delayed the issue of a new volume until they could secure a further series of stories from the authoress, and the services of a sympathetic artist, to supply such illus trations as seemed to be desirable. The story " The Cardinal's Lilacs," embodies actual facts, as they occurred in the life of one who was a close personal friend of the writer.

The publishers send forth the book with the hope that it may charm and delight many readers, as its precursor did a short time ago. * Vide Press Notices at the end of this book. Contents. PAGE IN A SEA BIRD'S NEST. i ANGELO'S ANGEL... ... ... ... ... ... 13 TAT TUNNICLIFF'S RANSOM 39 THE WIZARD'S AMULET ... ... 61 THE CARDINAL'S LILACS ... 87 A CHILD'S PILGRIMAGE .. 107 LEO'S LAST SLEEP ; OR, THE QUEST OF DEATH .. X. PAGE WOUNDED IN THE HOUSE OF HIS FRIENDS 133 THE MISSIONS OF LITTLE "PEACE" ... ... 148 THE GATE OF THE BLESSED CHILDREN ; OR, INNO- CENTS' DAY ON THE PLAINS OF HEAVEN 156 ANGEL NORA ... ... ... ... ... ... 3n a $ta (git*'* (Uee*. " Thalatta, Thalatta ! " " I tell of the ship which hath found a grave, Whose spars still float on the restless wave ; Of the hidden things which the waves conceal, And the Sea Bird's Tale can alone reveal."

AM a winged mariner, a feathered sailor, one who loves the music of the waves, and can ride fearlessly on the crested billows. Can you guess who I am ? I think you will say I can be no other than a Sea-gull. Other birds build nests on breezy commons, in tall wind-swayed elm trees, in hoary oaks, in clumps of green and golden furze, in beds of rushes, near silvery meres, but I build mine on lofty rocks, where the wind sings songs to my fledglings, and no rude hands molest. I cannot tell you of all I have seen, because I have seen so much, and it would fill a book ; so I am only goin" to relate one story — a story of love triumphant over death, of faith conquering despair ! Listen ! On the wild western coast there is a tall reef called Jenifer's Needle, to which (so says tradition) A In a Sea Bird's flest. 2 a maiden was once, in the long ago past, rowed by her treacherous lover, who left her there to die.

Part I

A Jester's Darling. ER name was Grace Esperance, and she was the only child of Angelo Pinello, the clown, and his wife Nanette. She came into the world one Christmas Eve, when the stars were shining brightly in the sky, and the candles twinkled dimly in the Churches, and the sweet bells were ringing out the glad tidings of great joy. When her mother unfolded what looked like a bundle of flannel, she showed me a wee pink face with two large solemn eyes, and said, " Mon mari, behold our Christmas Rose." And I kissed the tiny face and replied, "Right, mon ange ! She is a Christmas gift from the good God ; if you will, we shall name her Grace Esperance." And Grace Esperance she was christened one morning, when the falling snowflakes Angelo's Rngel. 14 were as white as her broidered robes. I made room at once for her in my heart ; aye, and a richly furnished room it was too, for love, pride, and gratitude made it as fine as a royal palace.

And little Grace seemed from the very first as if she never left that furnished room in my heart. When I came on in the Circus that Yule-tide, I used to feel as if her warm fingers guided me into the ring, and when my work was done — for if it was play to others, it was work, and hard work, to me — it was still my little one who led me off again. As she grew older, she became daily more precious to me. She was the sunbeam in our home, my constant little companion and friend. Why, I can picture her even now, toddling along by daddy's side, dressed in green like a little fairy, as Angelo the jesterwent to cut capers before the great British public; and I can assure you I did my work well, when I remembered that the stamping of the gods in the gallery, and the clapping of hands in the pit, meant lovely bebe frocks, and dainty fare for my pet.

Gracie was uncommonly pretty too, in quite an un common style. She was slim and graceful like a wood flower, her dark blue eyes spoke as eloquently as her tongue, her hair was brown with glints of sun shine in it, and she danced like the Queen of the Fairies. I had written "Waste not, want not ! " " Remem ber a rainy day comes at least once in a lifetime ! " and many other sterling maxims in my copybook, when I was a lad and wore round collars, but when my draw was large at Chilow's, I somehow forgot these admonitions, and spent my money almost as soon as I earned it. I placed a little in the Midlandshire Bank it was true, but, unfortunately, I only put a pound in where I ought to have put two. Then when I least expected it the evil day came. Without any warning Chilow's Circus broke up. Chilow paid us what was due to us, and informed us that he had disposed of his stock-in-trade to another showman, who would employ most of us, and would take us over at once to Paris.

But, alas ! poor Angelo the clown fell ill of a fever, in the ancient city of Sherborne, between Bassingham and Knutsby. How long I lay tossing unconscious in the queer house up the entry (which was then our home) I really cannot say, and even when the fever left me I was almost as helpless as a babe, not able to think of aught beyond the passing moment's wants, and need ing all Nanette's good nursing to keep life in me. When at length I became convalescent I began to wonder how the money was lasting, with nothing coming in, and all sorts of dainties made by my clever nurse for her patient, and at last I asked Nanette what sum remained in the bank. She put her arms gently round me, and said, " Don't trouble, Gelo ; you have been spared to us, and that has made us rich." But I would not be put aside thus.

I pressed the question home — " Is there nothing in the bank ? " I asked again. " Heaps in the bank of love, but nothing in the Midlandshire, mon ami. But don't fret, I can take up my old trade of artificial flower-making, and I shall send to Madame Gabrielle's for some work ; and in the meantime, you know, Gelo, I can make a little go a long way. Potato stews must replace roast fowls, and we must have bread and cheese instead of galette. Come, come, don't lose heart. We will fight Monsieur Gris together ; but we must not let Gracie know that the grey wolf howls outside. She is fanciful, she is sensitive ; she would picture us all dying of starvation in an attic. See ! " " Yes, I'll be careful, Nannie. The child will never find out our sore straits from me." Neither did she, but love can both find out secrets and guard them, and our darling soon discovered that Padre and Maman were fighting the grim, grey wolf.

She guessed why the pot au feu was nearly always on the fire, why Nanette patched and mended her old frocks, instead of buying fresh, pretty new ones ; why oil was burnt instead of gas ; why coal came in by the hundred-weight instead of by the load ; why I so per sistently studied " The Era," and why she never, by any chance, went with Maman to the bank. Then the little brain began to work, the wheel of thought turned busily round and round, the little heart beat with a thousand new emotions, and one day, a month before Christmas-tide, she said, " Maman, Cherie, we will have a turkey and a plum pudding on Christmas Day, won't we ? " " I fear we shall only have a little soup and a plain dumpling, darling," said Nanette, feebly, not to say apologetically ; and as an afterthought, she added, " We can keep the day without a feast, ma petite."

" We can, but we won't, Maman. Pouf ! I blow the thought of that dumpling away ! We will have almonds and citron peel in our pudding, and it shall have a sprig of holly stuck in it. No little plum dumpling for Signor Angelo, Madame, his wife, and Mademoiselle Esperance, the Queen of the Fairies." " The child is surely not herself, Gelo," whispered Nanette to me — aloud she said, " What do you mean, little cabbage ? " " Mean, Maman ? Why, just this. I went all by myself into Bassingham, to take tea with Mrs. Deverell, the other day." (Lena Deverell was a good-natured Irish dresser, B at the Theatre Royal, with whom we were slightly acquainted.) " Yes ! " we both said questioningly, " Yes ! " " I meant to ask Mrs. Deverell to help me to do something, anything, — for only the other day I heard you, Padre, say to Maman, ' Pray God, we get through the winter.' And Maman answered, 'Lift up thy heart, my Gelo, God will of a surety raise up someone to help us.' " Then, Padre, dear, you sighed, and whispered, ' Who is there to help ? ' " Maman could not tell you who, but I knew who would do it, that very night, as I came past a Church, which was lit up very brightly.

" There was a Bishop in amber robes, with a palm branch in his hand, on one of the windows, and I thought I should like to see him closer, so I slipped into the Church and knelt down near the organ, in a pew alone. " And as I knelt there, the organist began to play, and the choir boys sang of the ' Rex Ccelestis.' And as I listened, I forgot that you were waiting for the tea — such a little bit of tea it was — and sugar, I carried in my basket, and I asked of Christ, that I might help you, till you could work again, and then somehow I thought of Mrs. Deverell, and I felt sure she would help me, so I went to her the very next day. When I reached The Royal, I was cold and tired, but Mrs. Deverell called me Mavourneen, and gave me muffin, and jam, and tea with what she called a bokay. And she said, 'Now what can ye do ?

Can ye dance ? For I know Mr. Colville has been trying to find some fairies for his Panto mime.' So I danced, and tried to remember all you have taught me, and when I stopped, Mrs. Deverell cried out, ' Shure, darlin', but ye were born to be a fairy.' You mightn't think it but I was one meeself when I was Little Lena. I'll bring Mr. Colville.' " Mr. Colville, Padre Mio, is the manager of The Royal, and she brought him, and I danced, and sang, and he clapped his hands, and cried : ' Brava ! ' and told me that I should be Queen of the Dewdrops in his new Pantomime ' Cinderella.' "Just think of it ; I mean to get on, and be a Star someday, and you, Padre, will get a London engage ment, and be Grimaldi the second, and you'll laugh off the stage as well as on, and we will have new dresses and all sorts of good things ; and when Maman has her tiresome winter cough she shall go to Bourne mouth and laugh at the London Special, the Man chester Particular, and all the other City fogs, and we will be so happy.

Let me introduce Mademoiselle Esperance to your notice." She made a pretty curtsey as she concluded her speech, and we put our arms round her, and with tears in our eyes whispered one to another, " The Rex Ccelestis Himself has answered our question of who will help." And when Noel-tide came, and the waits played in the long entry, we all went over to Bassingham and saw our pride, our darling, all shimmering gauze and spangles, and glistening dewdrops, make her first bow to an audience, as Mademoiselle Esperance — the Queen of the Dewdrops, and, behold, the wolf with the cruel eyes slunk away from the Jester's door.

Part II

The Tachbrook Hospital. " When the flowers come again, mother, Beneath the waning light ; You'll never see me more In the long grey fields at night. I shall lie within the light of God, As I lie upon your breast ; And the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest." T was Yule-tide once more, a green Yule-tide. Holly berries were still on the 1 hedges ; in woodland glades the grass was green, and on it a few sheltered flowers bloomed, and the missel thrush piped in green bushes. It was a wet Christmas-tide too. All day long the low grey sky seemed shedding tears on the fen lands. It shed them on the marshes, where the wild birds uttered their melancholy cry, as if in protest against the weather ; on the sleepy towns, wherein trade became as stagnant as the water in the dykes, and on men and women who dripped and shivered, as they trudged through damp, still streets " on Christmas Day in the morning."

Among these luckless pedes trians was a man whose calling it was to jest, a man who dealt in jokes and merriment as other men dealt in food and clothing. The name of this man was Angelo Pinello, and he was on his way to the Tachbrook Hospital, to see his daughter die. "How did this happen?" you say. Ah! it opens afresh a wound which time has not been able to heal — but I must try to tell you. Gracie and I were on tour with the Criterion Company, and I was taking the part of Folli the Simpleton, and the child was playing in her favourite role of Red Riding Hood when the blow came. Never had she played more charmingly, or won more enthusiastic applause, but alas ! in bounding away from the cruel grey wolf who had met her in the forest, she missed her footing and fell heavily against some scenery.

I flew to her. " Where are you hurt, my darling ? " " Oh, Padre ! My leg, my poor leg, and my side — my side is the worst." Sadly we carried her to the Children's Ward of the Tachbrook Hospital, where her hurts were seen to by the good surgeon, and where she was nursed and tended by the white-capped sisters. At first we hoped that only for a time would she be under their care, but as she had said, " the side was the worst." The shock and the blow had told too heavily on the fragile little form, and she was sinking, they said — sinking rapidly. "You are wanted at the Hospital, immediately." These had been the words of the messenger on that Christmas morning, and as I walked through the gloomy streets they seemed to be whispered over and over again in my ears, and my parched lips mechanically framed the words, " Yes, I'm coming, coming quickly," in response to the urgent, the terrible summons.

There was not even time to send for poor Nanette, who had had one of her bad coughs, and so we had left her behind " to keep the house warm for us," we told her, against our return. The pale, silent rider on the white horse was press ing forward with cruel speed, and I must hasten if I would see my darling before she died. Save for Nanette I could have wished to say farewell to life, as I stood behind the screen at the end of the long ward, and looked at the small, pale face, which was well nigh as colourless as the pillow on which it rested. And as I looked at it the rain went patter, patter on the windows, and drip, drip upon the roof. Is this my Gracie, the Gracie who tripped so gaily through the forest, and made a moue at the grey wolf as if to say, " Ah, ha, Monsieur Gris, we are old enemies.

I have beaten you before ; I am not going to be afraid of you now." Could this pale, still, little sufferer be my Gracie ? I asked myself, as I stood beside the cot and gazed down at her, feeling as if my heart were broken, and the tears welled up into my eyes so that I could scarce see the beautiful face. But she seemed to feel my presence, bless her, for she opened her eyes and smiled feebly, stretching out her little thin white hand. " Padre," she said (using the old familiar title), "come nearer, there's a darling, and let us have a little talk." I drew close, quite close to her, and kneeling down beside the narrow cot placed my cheek against hers. I did not speak, I could not, for the awful presence of the still, white horseman seals the lips. The silence was broken by Gracie. " Padre," she asked, " who takes my place at the Theatre ?

" " Lu Davis, dear. Why ? " " Nothing ; only it's hard I couldn't have played till the end of the run. Does Lu make a good Red Riding Hood, Padre ? " " No, darling, she fails in the scene with the wolf." " Of course she does. Lu's Padre keeps a good confectioner's shop in Worcester. She has never been afraid of Monsieur Gris, has never had to fight him as we did. Now, Padre, let us talk of old friends and old times ; tell me, have you heard from Sherborne ? How are Daddy Silvertop and little S. S. ? " Daddy Silvertop was a white-haired admirer of Grade's, and S. S. was his bonnie, black-eyed grand daughter, Sally. " Daddy is quite well ; he sends his dear love to you, and Sally sent you the violets which stand on the table near you, and she said that when she saw you at the Prince's she wanted to come behind the scenes and kiss you."

There was silence for some minutes, and I almost thought she slept, but presently the sweet voice said, " Padre, tell Sally that I hope we shall meet behind the scenes, because the bell is going to ring the curtain down ; but I wish I might have lived a little longer. I should have liked to make my bow to a town audience, and to have seen Maman's room bright and lovely with my bouquets. I should have liked to become a great artist, because I love the footlights, and feel at home on the boards ; and Padre, dear, it's some thing to make the world brighter and merrier, isn't it? But now, now " " Now what, my darling ? " I feel that I am going behind the scenes, and the curtain will ring up for me no more ; I feel that I am going to say good-bye to you, and to life, for I had a strange dream last night.

I'll tell it you, dear. I dreamt that I was cold and homeless in a great city, where the trams and 'buses went up and down ; the people passed and repassed endlessly ; and the smoke rose up to the sky in clouds. " I don't know how I came there, but I found myself sitting on the doorstep of an empty house, the steps were worn and unwhitened ; there were no blinds to any of the windows. All at once I felt what Mr. Colville used to call ' noddy,' and fell asleep with my head against the door. . . . Padre, dear, do you understand me ? " " Yes, yes ! " I said, " I understand you "; and as I said it, King Lear's "climbing sorrow" came into my throat, for I knew that the " Silent Horseman " was drawing nearer and nearer, because the blue eyes looked dimmer, dimmer, and the cheek that touched Hngelo's Angel. my own, though still so soft and smooth, was waxing as cold as ice.

Then she went on — " All at once the door behind me opened, and in the doorway stood One 'clothed in beautiful white garments,' with a halo round about His Head. ' Follow thou Me ! ' He said tenderly, but I drew back afraid. ' My Father,' I answered, ' I am cold and frightened. Let me go home.' "And then He took my hand in His, and said, ' I, even I, am leading thee Home, my little one. Look on Me.' And then I looked at Him, and saw that He was that Rex Cœlestis of whom the Choir Boys sang ; so I folded my hands, as I do in Church, and said, ' Dear Lord, Thou didst love Thy Mother, and Thy Foster-father; because of Thy love for them, let me bid mine Good-bye.' " And He spoke to me tenderly, and said, ' Behold THERE ARE MINISTERING SPIRITS. COME THOU with Me ! ' and I silently prayed that I might be your Ministering Angel, and then the beautiful Figure vanished, and I awoke in my little white bed, here in the Hospital, with Sister Agnes sitting by my side, and all was very still.

No noise of passers-by reached me, no smoke rose up to hide the little stars which shone through the window, but I was quite happy, for I knew that the Man in white raiment would care for me. A strange dream, Padre dear, was it not ? " flngelo's flngel. 27 I could only bend my head in answer, for the climbing sorrow was mounting ever higher, and love, and fear, and grief put their own interpretation on that beautiful vision. And now the dim eyes turned in the direction of the violets. " ' Vilets, sweet vilets,' as the flower girls say. Ah, I shall never hear the street cries in spring again. They will go up and down the roads crying, ' Perri wink ! perriwink ! Gillies ! fine gillies, and vilets ! ' but I shall buy no more. Only you, Padre, perhaps, and Maman will buy them in memory of your Gracie.

Poor, poor Maman ; oh, I know it will almost break her heart not to bid me Good-bye. Do you remember, Padre, how hard it was to get her to stay behind ? Give her those violets from Gracie, and tell her that perhaps — who knows ? — the curtain may be lifted, and I may peep at you both, just as I did once at the Royal, when I was in the wings, waiting to come on. Now, dear, I'm tired ; I think I'll go to sleep in your arms, as I've so often done." I lifted the dear head on my breast, and said, huskily, " Comfortable, little treasure ? " " Very, darling," she whispered back, " very;" and then her eyes closed, and I kept silence, and the Tachbrook Hospital became transformed into a Geth semane, in which one in agony prayed, " If it be possible, let this cup pass from me," and as he thus Rngelo's Angel. 28 prayed, the Rex Ccelestis, full of tender love and pity, came to lead the Jester's darling to her long home.

And I sat as one stunned beside her, and felt that this great round world of ours was like a deserted theatre, with the lights extinguished and the music stilled.

Part III

Red Gables. She is not dead — the child of our affection — But gone unto that School Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ Himself doth rule." + » " London has smiles, but I know God hears The sobs i' the dark, and the dropping of tears." NCE more it was Yule-tide, and this time a white one — a genuine old-fashioned Christ mas Eve. The leafless trees in the parks were like white coral, the water was frozen, the ground was hard, and the setting sun was like a ball of fire. It was two years since we had laid Gracie Esperance to rest in a still, green, fenland Churchyard ; two years had come and gone since we had left her in her last little bed, saying, ' Lie lightly, mould, on that fair head, And eyes like violets withered," flngelo's stngel. 29 and things had gone very badly with me since that greatest of my troubles.

I had lost my nerve, the spirit of merriment had gone out of me ; I was as melancholy as the melancholy Jacques, and instead of being the second Grimaldi, as Gracie had said I should be, I became tongue-tied, and had stage fright in its acutest form when I faced an audience. " Tonics and rest are required," was the dictum of the medical man, and, alas, these were the very things I couldn't have. The only tonic I could obtain was the bitter one of adversity, and to rest meant to go without food and fire. Go where I would, misfortune seemed to dog my footsteps. I was very nearly at the bottom of the hill on this snowy Christmas Eve. My coat was not ragged, it was true, but it was threadbare. Nanette, my poor Nanette, had never been the same since we lost our Gracie. She was feeble and ailing in our miserable attic lodging.

There was half a stale loaf in the cup board, half a hundred of coal in the locker, a few tea-leaves in the teapot, and a fortnight's payment for rent owing. This was the state of things on Christ mas Eve. Our household gods had gone, piece by piece ; even the bed we slept on was not our own. I had sold my watch, and at last Nanette had parted stngelo's Angel. 30 with the silver locket which had held our dead darling's hair. "I am thankful, Gelo, that our Gracie cannot see this," said my poor wife, as she took the bonnie golden-brown tress from its resting place; and I answered — " Dear one, it would be a comfort to think that my darling's beautiful eyes were even now looking with love and pity on those she loved so dearly here on this earth." And who can say that those dear eyes were not so looking down on us ?

But our own eyes were sealed, and we beheld only our own misery. Vainly I tried to obtain work — work of any kind, for I had cast aside cap and bells, and had said fare well to the footlights. The world, I found, had no more use for the jester who could no longer amuse it. There was no place for me in the world's market, where the labourers were many and the hirers few, and I wished that someone would lead me from Great Babylon with its ship-filled docks, its squalid courts and alleys, its splendid palaces, its hidden dangers, its miles of crowded streets, its unutterable loneli ness, its merriment and its despair, its poverty and its wealth. I envied every man, however weary, going home from his labour ; I envied the barefooted urchin, flngelo's Angel. 31 cheerful and saucy in spite of his rags ; most of all I envied my old self — that old self who had had a bright home, with a happy wife and a little child, — who had loved and had been beloved.

On and on I wandered, and at last I found myself in Kensington. The Old Court suburb had a pleasant, cosy aspect, and I wished that Gracie was with us still, and that we were all keeping Christmas-tide in one of the tall, red brick houses with the " red litten windows," through one of which I saw bright-haired, merry faced children dancing round a beautifully decorated Christmas Tree, and I remembered that she, whose nimble feet were now for ever still, had once danced round her Christmas tree. At last I found myself on the confines of Hammer smith, not very far from the river, and instead of keeping along the high road, I stumbled down a side street, which led to a large house called Red Gables, the residence, as I afterwards found, of a retired tea broker named Walthall, who lived there in a quiet way, with an aged butler and housekeeper.