The white house by the sea : a love story

Front matter

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LOVELY COMPLEXION.

Chapter I

It was dismal enough ; dreary within, dusky without — with the gathering shadows of autumn twilight — and the gloom and the silence weighed upon my spirits. There was too much appearance of day to have candles, and though cold and cheerless too early in the season for economical people to have fires ; so there was nothing for me to do but to look out of the window and listen to the eternal surging of the sea. I never grew tired of that, but I wearied of being alone. My father dozed uncomfortably in his chair, and only spoke now and then, to ask what o'clock it was, or to complain about something or other in the way that nervously affected people always do, and I could hear Ellice's voice in cheerful conversation to the cat in the kitchen. Oh, if my Hither would but talk so cheerfully to me !

"Chatty?"

"Yes, papa."

" Did you say it was a quarter to six, or a quarter past six, when you looked at the clock just now ? "

" To six."

"Are you sure ? "

" Yes, quite, father dear."

He gave a muttered ejaculation of discontent, and said no more. I thought he had fallen asleep, but in less than live minutes he exclaimed querulously —

" You must have made a mistake, Chatty, or it would have struck six by now; go and look, there's a dear."

I lingered in the kitchen as long as I could, feeling loath to tell him that I was right, and when I returned he had dropped into a light but sound slumber. I took my old place by the window, and went on thinking. I ought rather to say imagining, for in the monotony of my daily life I had very little to think about, and if it had not been for the enthusiasm and extreme impetuosity of my temperament, I should have been dull indeed. As it was, I could not help wishing at times for some good fairy's wand to make real and living the bright pictures and dreams that my mind so revelled in. But to-day my thoughts were not entirely of a visionary nature. It was a very slight thing ; a gossamer thread — a spider's chain were stronger even, and yet it had bound down my fancy to a substantial and tangible existence. Pleasure parties in skiffs, painted boats and light flying yachts innumerable had passed and repassed all the summer long by our dark rock, and I, perhaps, just raised my eyes for one glance, and thought of them no more. Autumn has come now ; the south wind blew soft and warm still at midday, but there was a treacherous look in the sun's bright rising, and every evening came with an uneasy war of the waves and a falling of rain : therefore summer visitors and gay holiday makers deserted us, and I could no longer sit on the sandy heath and be idle.

But hardly four hours ago, in spite of the misty cloud and air, I had seen a boat dance by, swift and joj'ous as though on wings, and it had come near, very near to the

1£E WHITE HOUSE BY THE SEA. 5

little ragged stone on which I stood. So near that 1 could distinctly see the faces of those who were in it, and hear the gay echo and laugh of their merry voices.

And somehow they dwelt on my memory. I could not forget the sweet, happy face of the young girl, or the magnificence of the ladies ; least of all could I forget the •dark-haired, bright-eyed hero (for I made him a hero at ■once), with the cavalierly figure and the handsome mouth •which smiled proudly. He was the embodiment of my fairy-tale Prince, of my chivalric knight, and the lifelike personification of all my girlish, unspeakable ideals. How beautiful he was ! And I had watched for the return of the boat with a wondrous feeling of eager expectation and longing ; but with the coming darkness all my chances seemed to have gone. Yet it must pass, some time or other, I felt sure of that. Before and beyond lay the ocean, and the only return to Ingham was past our dwelling, for the high, bleak rocks which were our sole neighbours, narrowed on the one side into insignificance and to the town, on the other to a vast plain of dry, short heaths and brown grasses. So it must return, I thought, and in the hope I had lingered beneath the rocks till the clouds began to descend in drizzling rain, and the chill air made me shiver. My disappointment was great ; but even yet I watched at the window, if only to see the boat glide by. I should feel satisfied then, and I was very restless now. Perhaps it had leen upset ; I had heard of such things happening in uncertain weather, and the party had no boatman with them. Besides, it was getting dark, and there was no moon till Jialf-past eleven.

My father still slept ; and stealing on tip-toe, lest Ellice should overhear me, I went to the hall window, opened it, and peered out. I fancied that, mingled with the roar of tha winds and waves, I could hear the sound of a voice. I did

C THE WHITE HOUSE BY THE SEA.

not stop to listen any more ; but, trembling with excitement and eagerness, put a rushlight in the old hall lantern, and throwing on my waterproof cloak, jumped out of the window gently, and ran down the garden path.

The rain was slight, but the wind had risen high, and the night was very dark. I ran on in wild haste, through the garden gate, down the zigzag rock-cut path, and over the damp shingle to the edge of the beach. Then I jumped oa the top of a square slippery stone, and held my lantern high above my head.

Surely I heard a voice!

I listened again breathlessly. I was right ; I did hear a voice, and it hailed me. Still holding up my lantern, I went a few steps farther in the direction of the sound, and then stopped once more.

The voice was near me now, and its tones were distinct — at least, almost distinct ; what I could not quite plainly hear I could very well guess at.

" Can we land here ? "

I held up my lantern and strained my voice to its highest pitch in answer, but it was of no avail. Instead of a response there was only a re-echo,

" Can we land here ? " in a still louder key than before.

Then I made a final desperate effort, throwing all my energy of strength and lungs into a shrill —

" Yes ; higher up ! "

The effort was a success ; and I drew a long breath of glad exultation.

" A hundred yards ? "

" More ; about a hundred and forty."

Thanks to my knowledge of every nook and comer, I could find the spot in the darkest night, and in a minute or two I had gained it, and stood on the flat, shelving stone, calling out triumphantly — " Here ! "

At last it was readied, and the boat shoved in. I set down my lantern, and simultaneously a tall figure sprang beside me. It was my hero. Though too dark to Bee anything save the outline form, I knew it was him, and drew back, irresolute and shy.

Then there was a clamour of many voices, and almost a dozen questions and exclamations burst forth at once.

" How glad I am to be safe on terra firma ! "

" I really thought we were upset ! "

" What a fearful night !"

" Isn't it jolly ! "

" Oh, if I could but find my bonnet: and it cost two guineas last week ! "

" Where's Lindsay ? "

" Is the bottom of the boat out ? "

" What a hurricane ! "

" Who is it with the lantern ? "

"Ah! where is he? "

And all at once the general attention and interest were directed to myself: for some minutes there was a great whispering and discussion, I meanwhile standing aloof, silent and motionless. At last it was ended by some one taking up the lantern and holding it right before my face : the scrutiny lasted many seconds, and might have lasted many more if I had not raised my eyes.

A dark handsome face was in close contact to my own, wearing a comical expression of perplexity and surprise, and then a manly and sweet-sounding voice rang merrily through the air.

" Where on earth did you come from ? "

Immediately the party surrounded me. I could not answer their questions, they were so numerous, and my heart beat high and my cheek glowed with pride and pleasure when they praised and thanked me. I hardly remember ever feeling so happy before. The ladies shook hands with me, and the youngest clung to me and kissed me over and over again. I loved her at once, and felt convinced she was the one whose pretty gentle face I had admired so much in the morning.

" But what's to he done new, Lindsay? " said the tallest 3ady. " I have not the least idea whereabouts we are ? "

"Really, Mrs. Dunstan, neither have I. Suppose we rest on the sand here till the morning. It would be the least troublesome way of settling the matter."

" But something mast be done," rejoined the lady, languidly; "don't be so provoking, Lindsay; of course you do know where we are."

" On my word, my dear Mrs. Dunstan, I was never more serious in my life ; but my firm opinion is, that we are somewhere near the Lizard's Point ! "

It was impossible to resist his humour and raillery, and even Mrs. Dunstan joined in the general laugh and said, ■good-temperedly —

" How ridiculous you are, when it is hundreds of miles •off — must be."

Then the former speaker turned to me.

" Here is our refuge," he said. " Come now, brave little Grace Darling, tell us how we can get to Ingham- Hclmsley to-night. In the first place, how far is it off? "

"Not far," I said, hurriedly; "but won't you come home — to papa's, I mean — it is quite near and "

" Oh do, mamma ; do, dear Lindsay," said the young girl who still held me tight round the waist. " Do, dear Lindsay."

"Yes, do," I exclaimed, eagerly, "and then you can settle &bout getting back to Ingham, and we can dry your cloaks by the fire, and "

" Perhaps it's the best thing we can do," said the elder lady in a half whisper. " I don't know who these people can be, but anyhow we are all right with Lindsay."

At this, Lindsay (for such was the name of my hero) gave a shrug of the shoulders, and a significant, scornful laugh, and turning to me started off with a —

" Who is for a warm fire, and for Ingham, follow us."

His frank yielding to my guidance charmed me, and, silent from very delight, I walked on by his side.

"What a dreary out-of-the-way place!" I heard Mrs. Dunstan say, as we reached the house ; and the other lady answered, in a voice of caprice and affectation —

" Horrible ! It seems, as you say, as if it didn't belong to the world at all. Descendants of brigands, perhaps."

" Ellice," I said, running into the kitchen a few steps in advance, " here's a party of ladies and a gentleman who are wet and dripping, and lost their way in a boat from the Mere Point to Ingham : do put on some coals, Ellice, there's a dear, and let them come quite close to the fire, they are so cold."

Then, leaving her in utter bewilderment, I rushed to papa.

He looked positively frightened.

' ' Strangers ! you went to the shore ? — How can you tell who or what they are, Chatty ? and there are fourteen pounds and ten shillings in the house, and I am as helpless as a child, and not a creature within a mile round — Do they look like swindlers ? — but how should you know ? — Bless me — and the silver spoons are lying about "

He was working himself into quite an agitation.

"Dear papa," I said, smilingly and soothingly, "the fourteen pounds are quite safe, and the spoons, too ; it's only a party of ladies with a gentleman from Ingham- Helmsley who went this afternoon in one of Ben's boats to the Mere Point, and took a fancy to see the Boar's Head Hill, which made them so late. They are so wet and cold ;

you won't mind them sitting by the kitchen-fire, will you, father dear ? "

But he was not easily to be convinced. How could I know who they were ? — I, a girl of sixteen, totally unaccustomed to the ways of the world ; and the spoons were all lying in the kitchen ! But as they were in now, so they must be : he couldn't turn them out.

So I left him. Certainly the party in the kitchen looked very sociable, and as if silver spoons were far from uppermost in their thoughts. Mrs. Dunstan (I knew her by her matronly look and air) had installed herself gracefully in Ellice's arm-chair, and looked half asleep ; a tall and fashionable young lady, with a dark, Indian-looking, but handsome face, sat by her, and gave stray glance3 into a little mirror that hung opposite ; Lindsay stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded, a cigar in his mouth, and the very picture of at home ease and comfort ; and the youngest of the party, a girl of about fifteen, sat on a low stool beside him, with her bright, sweet face turned to the door, as if watching for me.

She jumped up when I entered, and made mo sit next to her.

" How I wish we hadn't to go home," she said, dismally. " It's so pleasant here."

" So do I," rejoined Lindsay: " this is better than a boat with the bottom out, eh, Angelica ? "

" Mr. Jocelyn, don't tease," said the tall young lady, with a coquettish smile ; " I am sure I never thought it was out, but I really have no inclination to turn out in the cold again."

" I wish you could all stay here," I said, very meekly, " but we have only one spare bed, and I don't think that's aired."

I really felt grieved and perplexed at my utter incapability of being hospitable, but was somewhat relieved by Lindsay s good bumoured and decided —

" But if you had forty aired beds, little Grace Darling, we should have to turn out just the same ; why, our anxious friends would think we were, as Mr. Stirling's gardener says, ' drownded to the bottom.' "

"Ah!" said Mrs. Dunstan, consolingly, and as if suddenly roused, " Mr. Stirling will send the carriage for us, of course."

Lindsay laughed outright.

" Of courso he would; bat, my dear madam, in the first place, since your arrival in this house have you sent some ' tricksy spirit ' to put a girdle round Ingham-Helmsley in forty seconds, or minutes ?"

" Why, of course, I forgot that ho doesn't know wo are here ;" and Mrs. Dunstan sighed.

Lindsay went to the window and looked out.

" It's a very dark, stormy night," he said, shrugging his shoulders, " and by no means inviting, after this cheerful fire ; but the only thing to be done, I think, is for me to find my way to Ingham, somehow, and send the carriage. I do not promise you how long I may be, for I have not the slightest idea of the way."

" Couldn't one of the servants go ? " Angelica said, rudely.

Mrs. Dunstan. touched her arm reprovingly, with a look as much as to say — " Remember, my dear, what uncivilized people we are among."

And before I had time to answer, Lindsay turned to me.

" Will you kindly indicate the way to me," he said, in a low, pleasing voice, " and I shall have double cause to bo grateful."

" I will do my best," I answered, "but it is rather difficult ; there aro so many cross-roads below the heath, and no guiding marks."

He had buttoned his coat up tight now, and wrapped a grey Scotch plaid around him.

" I think, if you would not mind pointing the direction to me from the door, that I shall be able to manage it ; things in the abstract are easy to me."

I smiled, and putting on my cloak followed him to the door ; but it was very dark, and we had to walk some steps before we could distinctly see anything. At the garden gate he stopped and drew my cloak closer round me. I thanked him, and we walked on.

" I hope you will not take cold from this evening's adventure," he said ; " you have been so truly a heroine to-night. I cannot thank you enough, and shall always remember it."

He walked slower, and continued, —

" This is a lonely place for you to live in; have you no brothers or sisters ?"

" No : no one but papa." I answered with difficulty, for there was a joy and agitation at my heart that almost took away the power of speech.

" How strange ! " he added ; " and indeed there is a hue ef romance about this night's adventure which has taken a marvellous hold ou my imagination ; it is so unlike the everyday occurrences of a busy or gay life in the world. I am very glad that it has happened."

We had now reached the spot from whence could ba faintly seen the glimmering lights of Ingham. I stopped and pointed to them.

" If you follow straight in that direction," I said in a strangely trembling voice, "I do not think you can go far out of the way, and when you lvach the town I think the directest route to Mr. Stirling's is to turn off by the new ehurch."

Lindsay dropped his voice to a lower key, and said : —

" I wish I could have my guide the whole way."

I shook my head, and turned homewards, without reply,, for I knew not what to say.

" Forgive me, if my words displeased you."

" Oh no," I said, " oh no, but I hope you will be able "

" Don't say a word; you have been most kind already. Oh, I shall get there somehow ! "

Then he accompanied me back to the door.

" Good-by," he said, holding out his hand.

" Good-by."

My voice quavered, and my hand shook in his. He echoed the parting word once more, raised his hat to me, and bounded off.

Before an hour and a half from that time we were again alone, papa, Ellice and I. The doors and windows were barred ; the fire was put out ; the mat was laid down for Bailie, and we retired to rest.

But it was a long time before I could sleep that night ; and when I did, it was to dream and start and wake again. I was still standing on the shore on a dark evening, and trying to make my voice heard ; then the boat went down, and I, all the time, was vainly trying to save it. Again the dream changed ; the fair face of my new friend smiled on me with looks of sister-love and gladness, and he was near me too. I trembled with joy to hear his voice, and woke up sobbing. Then I dreamed again, and the dear faces were gone ; it was twilight, and I thought I was looking out of the window, wishing for the return of something — I knew not what. But it was all a dream ; and when I awoke, the sea was smooth and shining, the sun sparkled on it, and I remembered that the dream and the reality were both passed awav.

CHAPTER H.

Mine was a very lonely life. From my childhood I had teen without a playmate : as a girl I was entirely without a jompanion, and therefore I had acquired some sober habits and ways that were not suited to my years. Still my disposition was a happy one, and my spirits were naturally high, and easily excited ; but the joyousness and the eagerness had to be much and often checked. My poor father wished me to have a pleasant life, I am sure ; and the thoughts of my isolated and friendless youth troubled him greatly : but mental sufferers, I have always observed, in a considerable degree get entirely absorbed and wrapt up in their own individual misfortunes. He saw me full of life, health, and vigour ; and, as far as the ordinary requirements of life are concerned, I was pretty well off; whilst he was paralytic, nervous, debilitated, and desponding. No wonder that, looking as he did from his own existence to mine, he did not often pity me. But I was dt\ir to him — oh! very dear — and all the irritableness, all the fretful moods, all the complaining and discontent, I could forgive and bear patiently, for the sake cf that one dear love, the only love that was bestowed upon me. I did weary of the loneliness at times : I could not help it. I longed for some change in the monotonous life, some affection for the yearning heart, some object or gift to alter and brighten the daily course. Every Sunday afternoon I used to stay at home with papa, and let Ellioe go to church, for she was a kind-hearted, willing girl, and I wanted to make her contented ; rhen I watched her coming home, over the heath or by the beach, with troops of merry gay-dressed friends, I drew back with a dreary feeling at heart almost like envy. I am ashamed to confess it, but it is true. I so longed and sickened for home-happiness, home-love, home-sisterhood. Papa and Ellice were both most kind, but they could not understand me and be my friends. How could I expect it ? And I tried to be thankful for their kindness, and be content. It was a strange life for one so young to lead. I had no education except what I gave myself from books, and I was left to choose my occupations and pursuits at will. For this I might have fared ill, but I had an insatiable passion for reading and somewhat of a reflective turn of mind. I read not merely for amusement, but from curiosity, and possessed a good memory.

And I had ample choice of books. Twice a week, or oftener, I ran down to the Ingham Town-Hall Library, and came home laden with miscellaneous literature. The old librarian was quite a friendly patron to me, and (though it is a great secret) always gave me back half the subscription fee, and let me carry all the second day's Times for papa to read. Ah, dear kind-hearted Mr. Binnie ! It's a great shame to betray your confidence to the world, but let's hope that none of the committee will ever be the wiser. If they are, I have only to say that the ten shillings invariably went for a turkey on Christmas Day, which was a great treat to poor papa (and nervous people think so much of their dinners !), which we never should have had if it hadn't been for Mr. Binnie. He was a funny-looking old man, and shuffled about in a threadbare grey coat, as if he had been on skates. That poor everlasting grey coat ! he did not defraud the committee for himself, that was evident. Often and often have I wished, as I saw him fumbling over dusty books, and patting down the dogs' ears with paternal fondness, that Government would give him a pension. He was bo poor and so contented ! and I felt sure he must be getting tired of the dogs' ears and dustiness. Poor geniuses

18 THE WHITE HOUSE El' THE SEA.

and poor clever people get pensions sometimes, and though Mr. Binnie was neither, is he the loss deserving ?

But I must also mention another friend of mine, Mr. Bean the Ingham surgeon : I will try and draw him • kilfully, dear reader, for there are not many Mr. Beans in the world, and I would fain implant in your hearts the leaven of the pride, the reverence, the love, and the heartiness which all Ingham* Helmsley felt for its little, good, clever doctor. I do not think I shall say a word about his outward man ; and yet why not? It is only in childhood that we love the letter rather than the spirit — the setting rather than the diamond, the gaudy binding rather than the matter of the book ; but in riper years it is not so. Who, if the picture is a genuin§ Baffaelle, will admire or value it less that it is put in a worthless frame of poor gilt or rude carving? Oh, it seems to me a poor and childlike wisdom to love and treasure and extol this mortal facing and carving of ours, over which time, disease, and veriest chance rule supreme, beyond the inestimable and eternal jewel which God hath placed within ! Therefore I will be brave and speak candidly of Mr. Bean s littleness of stature and outward imperfections. But though he was small and plain, he was by no means insignificantlooking ; his eyes were bright, sparkling, and expressive ; bis thoughtful mouth often smiled with much good nature and enjoyment, and his high forehead betrayed plainly enough uncommon mind and character. Uncommon he certainly was, in appearance as well as in talent and benevolence ; he always wore a very long tail coat and a very broad-brimmed hat, and both in winter and summer carried a huge cotton umbrella, which he shouldered much as a soldier would his gun. Then his shoes were extremely short and broad; it must have been a whim to wear them so — no feet could fit such shoes. Ellice used to say that if ever Ingham were flooded, as it was reported it once had been, she should wish for no better canoe than one of the doctor's shoes. But in spite of his shoes, his umbrella, and other oddities, there could not possibly be a more excellent man than Mr. Bean, and I am sure no one was ever more respected. He was very kind to both papa and myself; and though he used to say a good deal which I could not understand, I was always glad of a visit to the surgery. He had ever something to show me ; a curious picture-book, a chemical experiment, or some stuffed birds. Sometimes he asked me to tea; and in those days of solitariness it was a great treat, although I stood somewhat in awe of tall, handsome Mrs. Bean, whose magnificence of look and dress inspired me with a far greater awe than all the doctor's learning and philosophy : which timidity in question incited me very carefully to scrape my shoes, and rub them on the hall-door mat, and to take great care lest I should spill my tea and scatter any crumbs on the bright red carpet. Nevertheless Mrs. Bean was motherly and hospitable, and tried to make me happy.

And such was my life in the lonely White House by the Sea. A heap of books, changed once or twice a week ; a nod and a friendly chat with old Mr. Binnie ; a sumptuous tea of sponge-cake and potted hare at the doctor's, two or three times a year ; a row round the Mere Point, or a walk to the little hamlet of Ashford every Michaelmas to buy apples ; these were all the changes and varieties that I ever enjoyed : and yet I was happy — happy in my loneliness, happy in my privations, happy in my trials. I confess sometimes that I felt inclined to long and pine for the advantages of which I was deprived, but I resisted the rebellious feeling whenever it came, for I knew it was wrong. Nothing tempted me to give way to it so much as the sight of day-pupils issuing from the large pompous door of the fashionable French boarding-school at Ingham.