Peak's Island Part 10

Mrs. Carleton did so.

"Why, what have you under your dress?" said she.

"A whole suit of chain armor, Ada, that's all, and a helmet of the same under this lace scarf on my head. Louisita won't have the pleasure of piercing my heart this time, and when she finds that she cannot, she will think the spirits are round me, or that I am like the Indians and have a charm. I am going now; the cows are in sight. I saw how Louisita milked, and I think I can do it. Look down from the window, Ada, and see the fun."

"Anna be back," said the child, looking up with a face more full of anxious desire than inquiry.

"Yes, precious one," replied Miss Vyvyan, "Anna will come back."

No sooner had Miss Vyvyan approached the cow and was endeavoring to imitate as well as she could Louisita's way of milking, than the latter came striding out of the mound wearing her cavalry boots and flourishing her sword, exclaiming, as usual:

"Hence; away, away; all here is mine. Touch not that cow. I will pierce your heart."

Miss Vyvyan who heard it all did not take any notice of her, but went on with apparent indifference, pursuing her lacteal occupation. Louisita stood over her and went through all the sword exercises that she was mistress of. Still Miss Vyvyan continued her endeavor to milk, unharmed either by cut or thrust. Presently, turning to Louisita, she repeated her Spanish lesson as well as she could in the midst of her laughter.

"It is the fool who is laughing," said Louisita, looking up at Mrs.

Carleton, who was leaning out of one of the tower windows. "It is the fool, who has not sense enough to know that she is not happy. I shall never interfere with her again; she can have all the milk she wishes for; she has a charmed life."

CHAPTER XII.

The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, Upon the place beneath. It is twice bless'd.

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest.

Summers and winters went by; five years had pa.s.sed since the family had been cast on the island; they had watched from the tower almost daily for a white sail, but none had ever appeared, and yet they always continued to hope that the day would come, and they struggled within themselves to be patient and cheerful. Sometimes the thought would take possession of the mind of each of the ladies, that one or other of them might die, and how terrible it would be for the one who was left, and worse still a thousand times, both of them might die and leave Cora; but neither of them would ever breathe a word which could convey such an idea to the other; and when such thoughts and feelings oppressed them, they took the best method of dispelling their anxiety by engaging themselves in some active occupation. They made a pretty garden for summer enjoyment out of doors, and another for winter in one of the large rooms, by filling boxes and chests with earth. They always had beautiful flowers in their parlor, which was a great source of delight to Cora, as well as to her guardians. The two guitars which they had found in the castle, they strung with wire, and managed to have some music every evening in the twilight; then they had a time set apart, also in the early part of the evening, which they called Cora's hour.

For that period, they devoted themselves wholly to the recital of such subjects as were suitable and pleasant to her, and which they varied every day in the week, weaving each recital into a little story, sometimes telling from history; at another time, Mrs. Carleton would compose a story about Virginian life, and Miss Vyvyan would tell one about foreign countries; but the hour Cora liked best, was the one devoted to poetry and fairy tales. She was now in her eighth year, and could read very well; but there were no fairy tales among the numerous books in the library, so the ladies repeated them from memory. When the friends had put Cora to bed, they always remained together during the rest of the evening, working, and reading aloud to each other, making new dresses for Cora, who grew very fast, or planning some pleasant surprise for her, and as far as their present position allowed, always considering the child's future, and in what manner it was their duty to educate her, so that she might be best prepared to encounter any of the reverses or changes of condition, which fate brings into the lives of so many of us.

Louisita had taught the ladies how to poison some of the provisions with a plant which grew in the woods, and by so doing, and laying the poisoned food about the ground, they had destroyed nearly all the wolves, and now wandered about the island where they desired, making expeditions in search of flowers, or having little picnics for Cora in the woods, and visiting Ralph's cairn without their former fear. They had all been spending a long summer afternoon on the beach, the ladies seated on the rocks between Ralph's cairn and the sea, Mrs. Carleton working on a dress, that she was making for Louisita, Miss Vyvyan reading aloud, and Cora filling in the small open s.p.a.ces in the cairn, with little stones of her own selecting. The sun had gone behind the hill on the western side of the castle, when the little party left Ralph's cairn and strolled along the sh.o.r.e, as they returned homeward, gathering the beautiful sea-pea blossoms on their way.

"Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "we have not seen Louisita to-day; shall we go to the mound and tell her that her dress will be finished in the morning, perhaps that would please her?"

"I am ready," replied Miss Vyvyan, "to go anywhere you please, Ada; you always know the right thing to do."

"May I stay a little way off with Anna," said Cora, "not far; I am afraid of Louisita, but I want to be near you mama, to take care of you.

Don't you think, Anna, that Louisita is very cross," said the child.

"Not now, dear, she has been very gentle and quiet for the last year."

"I remember," the child continued, "a long time ago when I was little and you were trying to get some milk for me, and she hit you with her sword, she frightened me so; I was afraid she would kill you."

"She does not carry her sword any longer," said Miss Vyvyan, "and she does not scold us any more; she would not hurt any one now, your mama has been so kind to her, and set her such an example of goodness that she has made her good, too."

They had reached the entrance to the mound; Cora shrank back and clasped Miss Vyvyan's hand, who led her a few steps on one side.

"What is this," said the child holding in her hand a gold ornament set with garnets that she had just picked up from a heap of rubbish which appeared to be sweepings from Louisita's abode.

"That is a fibula, Cora, such as I saw in a museum in Norway."

"Look, Anna, look at these," she continued, gathering up several antique beads of gla.s.s mosaic and a few chess men of amber from the same place.

"Tell me what they are?"

"They all came from Norway," replied Miss Vyvyan, explaining their use to her.

Mrs. Carleton meanwhile knocked on the broken planks which served for a floor, and as Louisita did not appear she entered the mound, but soon came out again, and whispered something to Miss Vyvyan who pa.s.sed in, leaving Mrs. Carleton with Cora. On first entering, it was difficult to distinguish the interior of the place, or any of the numerous objects that it contained, as the only light came in through the shattered door, and a small hole on one side of the mound, which evidently served as a chimney and a window also. After a few seconds, when Miss Vyvyan's eyes became accustomed to the extremely subdued light, she saw that she was in a place that was four or five hundred feet in circ.u.mference and about twenty-four feet high. Advancing toward the side on which the hole was broken, she observed Louisita. A gleam of light fell upon her. She was kneeling in front of a small structure which formed a table. Her hands were clasped in the att.i.tude of prayer, and her fixed and gla.s.sy eyes seemed to look up in the direction of a small silver crucifix, which hung on the wall before her. Her features were set and rigid. The rich brown Spanish tint had left her face. When Miss Vyvyan looked upon her she knew that she was dead, and, on laying her hand upon her cold brow, she concluded that death had taken place many hours previously; perhaps the night before. She summoned Mrs. Carleton, and bidding Cora sit down where they could see her from the inside of the mound, the ladies proceeded to lay Louisita to rest in the same tomb that had so long been her dwelling. They lifted her on to her bed; they folded the poor, tired hands of the weary woman, whose life had lingered on through those lonely, loveless years. They took the silver crucifix from the wall and laid it upon her breast; for although they were not of her creed, they respected her devotion. They felt thankful that in her lifetime they had done all they could to lighten her burden. They felt still more thankful for her own sake, that her pilgrimage was ended, and that she had gone to join the babes who were so dear to her mother's heart.

Not finding sufficient boards to close up the entrance securely, the ladies went to the further end of the place to get some which they saw there. The pile was very high, and as soon as they took hold of one, several other boards fell in broken pieces at their feet, revealing the ribs of an old Norwegian ship, inside of which lay the skeleton of a man which had been there so long, that it began to crumble to ashes the moment it was exposed to the air. They turned to leave the ship when another and much larger fall of boards exposed the skeleton of a horse.

They paused a moment and looked round; they saw that Louisita was not in error when she had told them that the Nors.e.m.e.n were at one time on the island, for there was every evidence of the mound being the tomb of a Viking. Among the bones of the horse lay the remains of a bridle and saddle of leather and wood, the mountings of which were in bronze and silver. Near that of the man lay some ring-armor, a shield-buckle, two stones of a hand-mill for grinding corn, bits for bridles, stirrups, some gold finger rings and a fibula of the same metal. The ladies pa.s.sed quietly out of the tomb, and built up the entrance as well as they could with stones and earth, across which they drew the vines and brambles that grew among the spruces close by, so that at the end of the following summer there was not any trace left of an entrance ever having been there.

Mrs. Carleton had missed Miss Vyvyan for a longer period of time than usual one day, and in going in search of her to a part of the castle which they rarely went into, she found her engaged in making a little gift to surprise Cora with, and singing in a low tone the following song:--

WHY?

Oh weary years why come and go With endless sorrow rife; And hope's dead dreams why come ye back To mock my empty life?

Oh destiny, oh bitter fate, Oh burning tears that start, Why must the hearts that love the most Forever dwell apart?

Mrs. Carleton entered the room so gently that Miss Vyvyan was not aware of her presence until the former was close beside her.

"You look sad, dear Anna; what can I do to cheer you?"

"This is a sad anniversary for me," replied Miss Vyvyan; "but I did not intend you to know it."

"Let us hope, Anna, that time will give us back some of our former happiness," said Mrs. Carleton.

"The grave is unrelenting, Ada; it never gives back what it has taken from us. I will tell you all some day. I cannot talk about the past now; it would unfit me for being of use to others who have suffered; it would make me no companion for you and dear Cora; it would be selfish to intrude my life upon you."

"No, Anna, pray tell me why I sometimes see so sad an expression on your face which you change the instant you find I am looking at you. You know you have never alluded to any event in your life prior to our being shipwrecked. You have told me of your childhood, certainly, but that was so bright and happy that the recollection of it must be an endless source of thankfulness. Now I again pray of you, tell me all."

"As you so much wish it, Ada," replied Miss Vyvyan, "I will tell you that the sunlight went out of my life too soon. At the time I first met you the world was all darkness to me; all my days and years were winter, and my only wish was to die."

"Oh Anna, do not say that," said Mrs. Carleton; "but go on and tell me why."

"Forgive me, I fear I was rebellious, but I only thought of the present.

I could not look forward; it seemed as if there were no future for me here. I was alone; the only lips which had the right to breathe my name were sealed in death, and the stately dignity or cold respect with which I was always addressed reminded me hourly of my isolated existence. I have no words that can express to you the utter desolation I felt in having no one to call me by name. I often sought the whispering of the wind through the trees, the leaves and the long, waving gra.s.s in the hope that it might emit a sound which my fancy could fashion into the once familiar name, but all in vain; the trees and the leaves and the gra.s.s, even the rocks and hills, whispered and murmured and talked of many things, but the sound I most longed to hear came never."

Anna noticed that Mrs. Carleton looked sorrowful. She ceased speaking.

"Why did you stop, Anna; go on."

"I am distressing you, I see," answered Miss Vyvyan; "I ought not to pain you."

"Please go on, Anna."