The Track of the Storm. A novel

Front matter

NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS AT ALL THE LIBRARIES HUGH ERRINGTON. By Gertrude Forde, author of 'Driven before the Storm,' 'Only a Coral Girl,' &c. 3 vols. THE DEATH SHIP : A Strange Story. By W. Clark Russell, author of 'The Wreck of the Giosvenor,' &c. 3 vols. THE YOUNGEST MISS GREEN. By F. \V. Robinson, author of 'Grandmother's Money,' &c. 3 vols. A DAUGHTER OF DIVES. By Leith Derwent, author of 'Circe's Lovers,' ' KiDg Lazarus, ' &c. 3 vols. THE DUCHESS. By the Author of 'Molly Bawn,' 'Phyllis,' 'Airy Fairy Liliao,' &c. 1vol. HURST Si BLACKETT, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. A NOVEL BY DORA RUSSELL AUTHOR OF " FOOTPRINTS IN THESNOW," "THE BROKEN SEAL," "THE VICAR SGOVEKNESS," etc., etc. IN THREE VOLUMES VOL. I. LONDON HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET 1889 All Rights Reserved PRINTED BY TILLOTSON AND SON, MAWDSLEY STREET BOLTON CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

Cl IAPTEK PAGE I.— LUCY I II. — THE MESSAGE 21 III. — THE RECTO!. 's TURSE 39 iv. — last words 53 V. — AUNT AND NIECE 65 VI. — A BITTER SURPRISE ....... 79 VII. —A LITTLE DINNER 95 VIII. — NO TIME LOST • '4 IX. — THEIR SON-IN-LAW 125 X. — "TILL DEATH US DO TARl" 143 xi. — prissy's visit 164 XII.— INVITED TO DINNER CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. CHAPTER tage XIII. - AN UNPLEASANT MEMORY 205 XIV. -A SKELETON ........ 222 XV. — prlssy's MESSAGE 246 XVI. —A STRANGE DISCOVERY 266 XVII. — GENERAL TREHERNE's BALI

Chapter I. Lucy

One bright October afternoon, when in the woodlands the russet leaves lay warm in the sunshine, when the sky was blue, and the air fresh and healthful, a girl — a woman, rather — was walking with quick firm footsteps on a long sand range by the sea, looking with eager interest around her at the tracks of a storm. It had swept this rugged Northumbrian sea-coast two days ago, bringing terror to VOL. I. B the heart of many a trembling woman, who had listened white-lipped to its howling blasts ; it had wrenched the young saplings in the plantations, and up-rooted more than one hoary giant of the soil. But at sea it had wrought its deadliest ill ; and now, dotted here and there along the high water-mark, lay its silent witnesses, which the waves in their wild play had carried to the shore. The girl looked at these half-curiously, half-shudderingly.

The broken spars ; the great tangled masses of brown sea-weed ; the thin line of coal, washed inland from the hold of some lost collier ; all told a tale which those who dwell by the sea know well how to interpret. In the fierce strife of waters, brave men had gone down to their restless sea-graves, and this girl — Lucy King — was thinking of this. She was thinking, too, of a little yacht which must also have encountered LUCY, 3 this wild storm, and pitched and tossed amid the mighty waves. But she had a bright and hopeful temperament. Presently, averting her blue eyes from the wreckage on the shore, she looked wistfully at the serene sky and the shining, placid sea. How beautiful it all was ! — the wide yellow sands, the brown sea-walls, the great mass of green blue water, flooded now in the glorious rays of the sinking sun.

The little yacht would be all right then, Miss King joyfully reflected the next moment ; the owner of the little yacht, Jack Munsters, would be all right too, and no doubt at this very time was standing on the deck of the Lucy thinking of Miss King. This girl had the happy knack of making the best of everything. She presently almost forgot the storm, during which the wild wind had swept the waves to fury, and she had listened to their roar with pale cheeks and a beating heart. This had happened two days ago, but now the sea again was smooth, and everything was right. Some poor people might have been lost, perhaps, but not Jack Munsters. As long as that little white - sailed yacht was safe, I am afraid Miss Lucy did not think much of the poor sailors whose death - cries had been stilled amid the rushing wind and the blinding sleet Perhaps this was but natural.

We are more selfish in youth — when sorrow is but a simple word to us — than after we have felt its cruel pangs. To Lucy King the world was a very pleasant place. To begin with, she was handsome — a blue eyed smiling girl, with a skin of snow, and a form that her enemies said — and she had some — was too fully and perfectly developed for her age. Then her people held a good position, and Lucy knew LUCY, 5 nothing of poverty or pinch. She was the eldest daughter of Mr. King, the Rector of Longford-by-the-Sea, and her home — a pleasant spot — had always been a happy one. But she had had her small troubles, of course ; and one of them — the greatest one — was connected with the owner of the little yacht of whom she was now thinking. This owner, Mr. John Munsters, of Lee Grange, was the Kings' near neighbour and friend.

He was two years older than Lucy King, and he had always been in love with her. At least he said so, and it pleased Lucy to believe it. But it did not please Mrs. King that these two young people should ever have conversed on such a subject. She did not, in fact, wish her hand some daughter to marry Jack Munsters. Mrs. King had connections in London, and Lucy had been greatly admired during her various visits to town. Mrs. King had nothing particular to say against young Munsters personally, but she thought him a very bad match for Lucy. His small property was embarrassed, and he had no profession. She had, therefore, opposed any idea of an engagement between them, and this opposition had been one of Lucy's troubles. But though Mrs. King did not know it, these two had wandered together many a sunny summer afternoon in the green lanes round Longford, dreaming of, and sometimes speaking of, the sweetest dream of all!

Lucy had been up in town during the early spring, staying with her aunt, Mrs. Cranley - Forbes, and this lady, who was ambitious, having no daughters of her own to settle, was very anxious to do well for her sister's children ; but she had returned LUCY, 7 Lucy to her mother, accompanied with — what she considered — some very disparaging remarks. " If girls expect everything, as Lucy appears to do," she had written to her sister, Mrs. King, " it is impossible for them to marry well. Lucy is handsome, but so are hundreds of girls. She might have married a young man whom I at least consider highly eligible ; yet, because Mr. Hallket — who is very rich — is not very bright, though he is quite of average abilities, Miss Lucy must needs say "No!" I therefore wash my hands of her. I will take your other girl and see what I can do with her.

There was another man, too — a baronet and a widower — who admired Lucy very much, but it's no good — and so on. Yet, though Lucy had behaved so badly in the estimation of her worldly aunt, she candidly confessed to her lover, Mr. John Munsters, that the world and the things of it were not without attractions in her eyes. " When I am with Aunt Forbes, you know," she once said to Mr. Munsters, looking with her sunny smiling blue eyes up into Mr. Jack's good-looking face, " I can't help wishing to be rich, and to be someone ; but when I am with you — well, Jack, I think I am content." Sweet words, coming from such rosy lips, and very sweet to the listener's ears ! It was a July afternoon when they were spoken, and in the hedges on either side of the green lane where these two were walking hand-clasped, the wild roses and the meadow-sweet made the air all fragrance, mixed with a subtle freshness from the blue sea lying behind them.

We must forgive Mr. Jack if he kissed the rosy lips by way of thanking them for their pretty confession. LUCY 9 " I won't let you go and stay with that ugly old woman in town any more," he said, smiling, and bending tenderly over her. " I don't want her to fill your pretty head with her depraved ideas. A country life is the best and purest." " With Jack !" answered the girl, with a soft laugh. " Yes, with Jack. What do we want, Lucy, but each other ? I'm not rich, but I have enough for our daily bread." " With or without butter ?" smiled Lucy. "You naughty girl!" The rosy lips were to blame for it, and not poor Jack, if he kissed her again. What was the stupid tiresome world to this ? she thought, as they walked on, and the birds sang, and the scent of the summer flowers filled the air. She remembered the hot rooms — the heart-burning sometimes — even though she was an admired young girl ; but what was all their stupid admiration to Jack's true love ?

" I wish mother would not be so disagreeable about it," she said, presently. " So do I ; but we can't help that. She allows her sister to influence her, I suppose ?" " Oh, mother's just as bad as aunt. They want me to marry what they call well, you know ; they don't care for hearts, Jack !" " But we do, you see. Lucy, do you ever feel as if nothing could part us ; as if there was something between our souls that makes them almost one ? I always fancy I know what you are thinking of, even when I am not near you." " What am I thinking of now, Jack ?" Jack gave a little laugh at this question, for he felt at this moment that he was not exactly competent to make a direct reply. LUCY 11 " I hope you are thinking of me," he said, presently. He had a pleasant, brown, thoughtful face, this young man, and bright, honest grey eyes, full of life and hope.

He was not exactly handsome, but good-looking, and his figure was tall, athletic, and spare, from constant exercise. " And now, shall I tell you what I am thinking of?" he continued. "May I call to-morrow, Lucy, and see your mother ?' " I am afraid it will be no use," sighed Lucy. Nevertheless, he did call at Longford Rectory the next day, and had an inter view with Mrs. King. He. was received by a very dainty looking, slender lady, whose complexion was nearly as pure and fair as her young daughter's. She looked a pretty woman, this, when she first entered the room, with her blooming skin and her bright golden-tinted hair almost the same as Lucy's, and dressed exactly in the same fashion. But her features were very different ; they were irregular, while Lucy's were regular. But she wished to appear attractive, and her will was so strong that she actually succeeded in doing so, and though she was quite agreeable to Mr. Jack Munsters when he called, she did not intend him to marry her daughter.

" You know I can't listen to such nonsense," she said, smilingly, after Jack had blurted out somewhat awkwardly that he wished to marry Lucy. " It does not seem nonsense to us, Mrs. King," replied the young man. " That is because you are two silly young people," said Mrs. King, still smiling. " You must not think me rude, Mr. Munsters, but what have you and Lucy to marry on ?" Jack and his brother Joe — a lanky LUCY, 13 young man with a better head for figures than Jack — had the evening before, in preparation for this visit, made a calcula tion of the profits arising from the embarrassed parental acres which had descended to Jack. " The property brings in something like seven hundred a year, Mrs. King." "And on this you have to support your brother, and pay for repairs of farm buildings — in fact, a hundred things !

My dear Mr. Munsters, cruel experience has taught me how far seven hundred a year goes in a household !" And Mrs. King gave a little laugh. " I might perhaps get something to do to increase my income," said Jack, in a subdued tone. " Marry an heiress, Mr. Jack ; that's my advice to all young men without money. Lucy will not have a penny, you know, for it's all that we can do to manage ourselves. No, you must both give up this stupid idea. I have often scolded Lucy about you ; I shall scold her again !" She was perfectly good-natured with him, but perfectly firm, and poor Jack retired much disheartened, but still determined to win the girl he loved. But Mrs. King made it very difficult. Still, Lucy and Jack contrived to meet much oftener than the wary mother ever dreamed of, and gradually Lucy came to the conclusion that she could not be happy without Jack, and that unless her parents would give their consent, they must just get married some day without it.

She came to this conclusion duringthe early autumn. Then, at the end of Sep tember, Jack went to Norway in his little yacht, The Ltuy, with a friend, and the lovers settled between them that on LUCY 15 his return they were to make one more effort to induce Mr. and Mrs. King to allow them to be happy in their own way. And Lucy was thinking of all these things on this bright October afternoon, as she walked along the smooth sands, with the glinting rays of the sinking sun falling on her fair face. She looked wistfully at the Northern Sea, the sea on which Jack was sailing home to her ! How smooth it was ; what a bright day ; where would he be now, she wondered. She knew he was on his homeward voyage, and she knew, too, he must have met the storm of two days ago, during which she had shivered with fear as she listened to each howling blast.

But this was all over, and Lucy's heart was light. Dear Jack ! How glad she would be to see him again and look in his bright face ! She thought this, and then once more turned her own sunny blue eyes from the sea to the " waste and lumber of the shore." Something attracted her attention as she did this. A sun-ray had fallen on a small bright object on the tracks which the storm had strewn with wreckage. Lucy went out of her way to examine this object. She was walking on the firm sand close to the sea, and the high water-mark, where the chief of the wreckage lay, was some little distance further inland. And Lucy crossed this distance. She went up to the broken spars, the torn remnants of brown and sea-worn sails. There amidst them lay the thing that had caught her attention, and Lucy smiled when she saw what it actually was.

It was a champagne bottle ! The foil paper round the neck had glistened in the sun, and thus she had seen it. She smiled again, stooped down to lift it up, and then grew a little pale. LUCY. 17 The bottle had a cork in it, but no wine. It was not empty however ; but con tained a small piece of paper, and it was the sight of this paper that had paled the finder's cheeks. Lucy had heard of " messages from the sea," which dying men had entrusted to the keeping of the wild waves. What if this was one of these ? The girl's hands trembled as the idea struck her, and she tried to pull out the cork. This was not difficult. Then she shook out the paper, and it fell fluttering to her feet. She lifted it up, opened the little scroll, and suddenly the earth and sky seemed to grow dark. What was she reading with her dazed eyes ?

What words were these ? Untrue words — lying words ! It could not be true ! Yet in Jack's handwriting — yes, in Jack's handwriting, she could not mistake that — she was reading that he was dead ! vol. i. c " Seven o'clock, a.m., Tuesday, October 9th. — Yacht Lucy sinking. No hope. Anyone finding this message, please forward to J. Munsters, Lee Grange, Northumberland ; or to Rev. James King, Longford Rectory, Northumberland. " John Munsters. ' Good-bye, Lucy." The poor girl stood bewildered, motion less. She held the blurred and blotted lines in both her cold hands, and her pallid lips repeated, as if unconsciously, those last words : — Good-bye, Lucy. Was Jack dead — her Jack — her bright dear Jack ? "Oh, no! Oh, no!" she cried out aloud. "Oh, no! Oh, no!" She was frantic ; she ran towards her home, stumbling in her eager haste over the broken timber, the tangled weed, that the sea had given up.

Shall we follow LUCY 19 her ? Go with her along the long sand range, and up the steep hill by the path cut in the solid rock that leads to the village of Longford-by-the-Sea ? A quaint, old-world place this, where the fisher-people dwell, and where the salt foam drifts on the storm-winds over the sea-worn walls of their humble homes. Built on the very edge of the cliff, from the little bay lying in front, the fishermen go forth to their perilous toil. Here in the summer time it is pretty to watch in the gloaming the herring fleet start, their white sails bearing them away until their twinkling lights are lost in the mists and distance of the sea. A group of women in their blue flannel gowns were standing gossiping at the head of the cliff as Lucy ran panting up. They looked at the girl curiously, and wondered what made her face so white and strange.

She was, of course, well-known to them, but Lucy never saw them. She had but one thought ; Jack ! — it must be a lie — Jack could not, could not be dead !

Chapter II The Message

At last she reached her home, a modern, well-built country house, where the flower beds were still rich with the glowing autumnal tints, though somewhat dashed by the recent storm. The gardener was brushing up the fallen leaves on the carriage-drive as Lucy ran in, and he, too, turned and looked at her pale, scared face. But Lucy took no notice ; she hurried to the open hall door ; she entered it, and a moment or two later startled both her parents, who were sitting together in the drawing-room enjoying their afternoon tea. " What is the matter, Lucy ?" cried Mrs. King, starting to her feet. " My dear, what ails you ?" asked the Rector. The white-faced girl looked from one to the other with her frightened blue eyes, and then, as if instinctively, ran up to her father and fell upon his breast.

Father — Jack !" she gasped out. " And what is the matter with Jack ?" said the Rector, kindly. Mr. King had not opposed poor Jack Munsters' love for his daughter with the same energy that his wife had, though he agreed with her so far that Jack was not good enough for his handsome Lucy. He was a sensible, pleasant man, this, with a shrewd, plain, dark-skinned face, and a humorous twinkle in his brown eyes. His wife, it was popularly supposed, managed him, but the Rev. James had been known to rebel, and when this occurred, Mrs. King always made the most of it. " Mr. King orders everything, you know," she would say, smilingly, in the hearing of Mr. King. But they got on together fairly well. The Rector, it must be admitted, thought his pink - cheeked Felicia a little frivolous, but he was too wise ever to tell her so.

She was a good wife, and she managed very well, though she spent a little more than the Rector could prudently afford. She crossed the room now, and went up to her daughter, who was shuddering and gasping in her father's arms. "Lucy, are you mad?" she said. "What is the matter with you ?" But the unhappy girl never heeded her. She was thrusting the crumpled paper that she held into her father's hand. She was pointing to the bottle she had carried, but her lips were dumb. Then the Rector understood. He read the blurred lines ; he looked at his girl's face. " Ah ! Poor Jack !" he said, with a little mournful shake of his head. "Father — it can't be true?" now gasped Lucy. " I am afraid so, my dear. I met Joe Munsters yesterday, and he seemed uneasy about the little Lucy. Ah — to be sure " — and again the Rector read poor Jack's message — "it was blowing tremendous big guns just about seven o'clock on Tuesday morning.

Don't you remember, my dear, the rain dashing against the window panes awoke you ?" and he. looked at his wife. " I remember it was a horrible morning.. Lucy, you must have some sal-volatile. Don't give way like that, my dear ; do remember there are servants in the house. Even if this young man is lost, what is he to you ?" said Mrs. King. Upon this, Lucy started to her feet and looked at her mother with indignant eyes. " I tell you what he is !" she cried, passionately. " I loved him and he loved me — his last words were for me !" And then, utterly overcome by the memory of those last words, she once more flung herself down by her father, while choking sobs seemed almost to rend her breast. Mrs. King, with a little shrug of her shoulders, now left the room to seek the sal-volatile, while the Rector did his best to console his daughter.

" But is there no hope, father ?" asked Lucy, raising her tear-stained face from his knee. " Can nothing be done ? A ship can go out and seek him, can there not — a steamer ? Oh ! father, go to Northwick harbour ; some of the ships may have picked him up, even if the Lucy has gone down. Oh ! try something try something, or I shall go mad !" Again the poor girl started to her feet and commenced walking up and down the room, flinging her shapely arms in the air in a paroxysm of grief and agony. " My dear Lucy," said the Rector, rising also and following her and putting his arm round her, " I don't want to preach, you know. It's very sad about poor Jack Munsters — very sad — but still we ought to bear our sorrows with patience, at least — and remember in whose hands " " But why should my Jack be taken ?" interrupted Lucy, passionately.

" What has he done ? So young, so brave, so handsome. It is cruel, cruel, cruel, to take my Jack from me !" " Alas, my poor girl, how many a poor woman's husband and lover the sea has. taken ! Lucy, yours is but a common loss, even if you loved this poor lad ; but hush ! hush ! my dear, I'll go to Northwick harbour to make inquiries ; try to keep yourself quiet till I come back. I'll go first to Lee Grange and get Joe Munsters to go with me. You had better give me the paper, dear, with poor Jack's message." But she would not " No, it is mine," she said ; "it is intended for me — Jack meant it for me ; no one shall take it away !" She held it to her bosom as she spoke, and would not let it go. Then her mother came back with the sal-volatile and insisted upon her daughter taking some of it. It soothed her to a certain extent, and presently Mrs. King persuaded her to go to her own room, and induced her to lie down on the bed to rest, which Lucy did in the hope of getting rid of her mother's company.

But Lucy was too excited, too miser able, to rest. The moment her mother left her she sprang to her feet again, wandering aimlessly up and down her room till the darkness gathered round her, still holding Jack's last words to her aching heart. In the meanwhile the Rector was wending his way to Lee Grange, for the purpose of carrying the ill news to Joe Munsters, poor Jack's only brother. The Grange was not more than three quarters of a mile from the village of Longford-by-the-Sea, and the impoverished acres of Lee, of which Mrs. King always spoke so disparagingly, ran down to the Rector's garden - wall ; the ground on which the Rectory was built having been purchased from the late Mr. Munsters for that purpose. A picturesque old house, this Grange, with its grey stone walls, into which the sea mists and biting winds had eaten in places as moths into garments.

It was curious to note the honey combing process in the stout stone, which had gone on in the long years that the house had faced the storms and tempests from the Northern Sea. The Munsters had lived here for generations, and gradually the property had dwindled ; but the old Grange remained, and had descended to Jack Munsters when he was a boy at school. The two brothers had lived here most of their lives, and kept what Mrs. King considered a most meagre establishment — one old woman and a lad. But what did they want with more ? Jack had a horror of the haunting spectre, debt, which had ever stalked after his father's footsteps. He tried, therefore, to live within his small income, and Joe, the younger brother, early developed a propensity for saving. He had a curious passion for constantly counting everything.

He used to count the apples on the trees and the pears and plums on the gardenwall. He was two years younger than Jack — a long, lanky young man, who looked as if he were constantly solving some mental calculation. Madge, their old woman, was above suspicion, yet Joe Munsters always took the opportunity, when Madge was out of the way, of counting the eggs in the larder and the silver forks and spoons, of which she was the guardian. As the Rector reached this old tumbledown house, Mr. Joe was standing in the yard, with his hands in his pockets, watching Madge feed the poultry, and unconsciously counting the hens and the ducks as he did so. He glanced up rather surprised when he heard the Rector open the gate, and saw who it was. Mr. King looked very grave, and did not smile when he shook Joe's hand and nodded to Madge.

"I am afraid I have bad news for you, Joe," he said. " Eh ? How's that ?" answered Joe " It's about poor Jack " Jack !" and Joe started and his colour changed. "What's happened to Jack?" Then the Rector told him Lucy had picked up a bottle on the sands contain ing what the Rector feared were poor Jack's last words, and Joe Munsters grew pale as he listened. Madge, the old servant, had listened too, and as the Rector ended his sad story, she gave a loud wail of grief and flung down the corn that she held in her blue-checked apron, of which unexpected treat the chickens and ducks took im mediate advantage. " What, the young master !" cried Madge, now flinging her apron over her brown, time-lined face. " Oh ! is he gone ? So young, so bonny ! Ay, the Lord always takes the best — always, always !"

And poor Madge began to sob aloud. " But we can't be sure ?" said Joe, with a pale, scared face. " No, of course we can't be sure," answered the Rector ; " but it was a tremendous gale, and if the little Lucy was in the thick of it, she would have a poor chance, and Jack is a good sailor, and would scarcely have given up hope if any were left. But what I propose, Joe, is, that you and I go to Northwick harbour at once. We may hear some thing, you know. A lot of ships got in to-day, I'm told, some of them badly damaged." " We had better go," said Joe, in a low tone. " I'll just change my coat, Mr. King, and then we can go. "All right," answered Mr. King, not exactly seeing why, under such sad circumstances, a change of dress was necessary. Joe ran into the house to change his coat, and he also hastily gathered up all the keys he could lay his hands upon and locked them away.

He was shocked and startled at the Rector's news, but still he could not help thinking, as he quickly made his preparations, what a great change Jack's death would bring to him. But it was dreadful. " Poor Jack !" he thought again the next minute, almost remorsefully, for Jack had always been a kind and generous brother. Joe Munsters, in fact, had been left totally unprovided for, and, strange to relate, he never attempted to provide for himself. He carefully saved the allowance Jack gave him, and just lived on at the Grange at his brother's expense. And this had been one of poor Jack's troubles, for he feared his Lucy would scarcely care for Joe lounging about the place, and yet he was too kind-hearted ever to hint this to Joe. But if Jack were gone, all would be VOL. I. D his, Joe actually thought again as he and the Rector drove to Northwick harbour in poor Jack's dog-cart.