The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy Chain Part 71

CHAPTER XXVII

A cup was at my lips: it pa.s.s'd As pa.s.ses the wild desert blast!

I woke--around me was a gloom And silence of the tomb; But in that awful solitude That little spirit by me stood-- But oh, how changed!

--Thoughts in Past Years

Under Richard's kind let-alone system, Leonard was slowly recovering tone. First he took to ruling lines in the c.o.c.ksmoor account-books, then he helped in their audit; and with occupation came the sense of the power of voluntary exertion. He went and came freely, and began to take long rambles in the loneliest parts of the heath and plantations, while Richard left him scrupulously to his own devices, and rejoiced to see them more defined and vigorous every day. The next stop was to a.s.sist in the night-school where Richard had hitherto toiled single-handed among very rough subjects. The technical training and experience derived from Leonard's work under the schoolmaster at Portland were invaluable; and though taking the lead was the last thing he would have thought of, he no sooner entered the school than attention and authority were there, and Richard found that what had to him been a vain and patient struggle was becoming both effective and agreeable. Interest in his work was making Leonard cheerful and alert, though still grave, and shrinking from notice--avoiding the town by daylight, and only coming to Dr. May's in the dark evenings.

On the last Sunday in Advent, Richard was engaged to preach at his original curacy, and that the days before and after it should likewise be spent away from home was insisted on after the manner of the friends of hard-working clergy. He had the less dislike to going that he could leave his school-work to Leonard, who was to be housed at his father's, and there was soon perceived to have become a much more ordinary member of society than on his first arrival.

One evening, there was a loud peal at the door-bell, and the maid--one of Ethel's experiments of training--came in.

'Please, sir, a gentleman has brought a c.o.c.katoo and a letter and a little boy from the archdeacon.'

'Archdeacon!' cried Dr. May, catching sight of the handwriting on the letter and starting up. 'Archdeacon Norman--'

'One of Norman's stray missionaries and a Maori newly caught; oh, what fun!' cried Daisy, in ecstasy.

At that moment, through the still open door, walking as if he had lived there all his life, there entered the prettiest little boy that ever was seen--a little knickerbocker boy, with floating rich dark ringlets, like a miniature cavalier coming forth from a picture, with a white c.o.c.katoo on his wrist. Not in the least confused, he went straight towards Dr. May and said, 'Good-morning, grandpapa.'

'Ha! And who may you be, my elfin prince?' said the Doctor.

'I'm d.i.c.kie--Richard Rivers May--I'm not an elfin prince,' said the boy, with a moment's hurt feeling. 'Papa sent me.' By that time the boy was fast in his grandfather's embrace, and was only enough released to give him s.p.a.ce to answer the eager question, 'Papa--papa here?'

'Oh no; I came with Mr. Seaford.'

The Doctor hastily turned d.i.c.kie over to the two aunts, and hastened forth to the stranger, whose name he well knew as a colonist's son, a favourite and devoted clerical pupil of Norman's.

'Aunt Ethel,' said little Richard, with instant recognition; 'mamma said you would be like her, but I don't think you will.'

'Nor I, d.i.c.kie, but we'll try. And who's that!'

'Yes, what am I to be like?' asked Gertrude.

'You're not Aunt Daisy--Aunt Daisy is a little girl.'

Gertrude made him the lowest of curtseys; for not to be taken for a little girl was the compliment she esteemed above all others. d.i.c.kie's next speech was, 'And is that Uncle Aubrey?'

'No, that's Leonard.'

d.i.c.kie shook hands with him very prettily; but then returning upon Ethel, observed, 'I thought it was Uncle Aubrey, because soldiers always cut their hair so close.'

The other guest was so thoroughly a colonist, and had so little idea of anything but primitive hospitality, that he had had no notion of writing beforehand to announce his coming, and accident had delayed the letters by which Norman and Meta had announced their decision of sending home their eldest boy under his care.

'Papa had no time to teach me alone,' said d.i.c.kie, who seemed to have been taken into the family councils; 'and mamma is always busy, and I wasn't getting any good with some of the boys that come to school to papa.'

'Indeed, Mr. d.i.c.kie!' said the Doctor, full of suppressed laughter.

'It is quite true,' said Mr. Seaford; 'there are some boys that the archdeacon feels bound to educate, but who are not desirable companions for his son.'

'It is a great sacrifice,' remarked the young gentleman.

'Oh, d.i.c.kie, d.i.c.kie,' cried Gertrude, in fits, 'don't you be a prig--'

'Mamma said it,' defiantly answered d.i.c.kie.

'Only a parrot,' said Ethel, behind her handkerchief; but d.i.c.kie, who heard whatever he was not meant to hear, answered--

'It is not a parrot, it is a white c.o.c.katoo, that the chief of (something unutterable) brought down on his wrist like a hawk to the mission-ship; and that mamma sent as a present to Uncle George.'

'I prefer the parrot that has fallen to my share,' observed the Doctor.

It was by this time perched beside him, looking perfectly at ease and thoroughly at home. There was something very amusing in the aspect of the little man; he so completely recalled his mother's humming-bird t.i.tle by the perfect look of finished porcelain perfection that even a journey from the Antipodes with only gentleman nursemaids had not destroyed. The ringleted rich brown hair shone like glossy silk, the cheeks were like painting, the trim well-made legs and small hands and feet looked dainty and fairy-like, yet not at all effeminate; hands and face were a healthy brown, and contrasted with the little white collar, the set of which made Ethel exclaim, 'Just look, Daisy, that's what I always told you about Meta's doings. Only I can't understand it.--d.i.c.kie, have the fairies kept you in repair ever since mamma dressed you last?'

'We haven't any fairies in New Zealand,' he replied; 'and mamma never dressed me since I was a baby!'

'And what are you now?' said the Doctor.

'I am eight years old,' said this piece of independence, perfectly well mannered, and au fait in all the customs of the tea-table; and when the meal was over, he confidentially said to his aunt, 'Shall I come and help you wash up? I never break anything.'

Ethel declined this kind offer; but he hung on her hand and asked if he might go and see the schoolroom, where papa and Uncle Harry used to blow soap-bubbles. She lighted a candle, and the little gentleman showed himself minutely acquainted with the whole geography of the house, knew all the rooms and the pictures, and where everything had happened, even to adventures that Ethel had forgotten.

'It is of no use to say there are no fairies in New Zealand,' said Dr.

May, taking him on his knee, and looking into the blue depths of Norman's eyes. 'You have been head-waiter to Queen Mab, and perpetually here when she made you put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes.'

'Papa read that to the boys, and they said it was stupid and no use,'

said d.i.c.kie; 'but papa said that the electric telegraph would do it.'

The little cavalier appeared not to know what it was to be at a loss for an answer, and the joint letter from his parents explained that his precocious quickness was one of their causes for sending him home. He was so deft and useful as to be important in the household, and necessarily always living with his father and mother, he took constant part in their conversation, and was far more learned in things than in books. In the place where they were settled, trustworthy boy society was unattainable, and they had felt their little son, in danger of being spoilt and made forward from his very goodness and brightness--wrote Meta, 'If you find him a forward imp, recollect it is my fault for having depended so much on him.'

His escort was a specimen of the work Norman had done, not actual mission-work, but preparation and inspiriting of those who went forth on the actual task. He was a simple-minded, single-hearted man, one of the first pupils in Norman's college, and the one who had most fully imbibed his spirit. He had been for some years a clergyman, and latterly had each winter joined the mission voyage among the Melanesian Isles, returning to their homes the lads brought for the summer for education to the mission college in New Zealand, and spending some time at a station upon one or other of the islands. He had come back from the last voyage much out of health, and had been for weeks nursed by Meta, until a long rest having been declared necessary, he had been sent to England as the only place where he would not be tempted to work, and was to visit his only remaining relation, a sister, who had married an officer and was in Ireland. He was burning to go back again, and eagerly explained--sagely corroborated by the testimony of the tiny archdeacon--that his illness was to be laid to the blame of his own imprudence, not to the climate; and he dwelt upon the delights of the yearly voyage among the lovely islands, beautiful beyond imagination, fenced in by coral breakwaters, within which the limpid water displayed exquisite sea-flowers, sh.e.l.ls, and fishes of magical gorgeousness of hue; of the brilliant white beach, fringing the glorious vegetation, cocoa-nut, bread-fruit, banana, and banyan, growing on the sloping sides of volcanic rocks; of mysterious red-glowing volcano lights seen far out at sea at night, of glades opening to show high-roofed huts covered with mats: of canoes decorated with the shining white sh.e.l.ls resembling a poached egg; of natives cl.u.s.tering round, eager and excited, seldom otherwise than friendly; though in hitherto unvisited places, or in those where the wanton outrages of sandal-wood traders had excited distrust, caution was necessary, and there was peril enough to give the voyage a full character of heroism and adventure. Bows and poisoned arrows were sometimes brought down--and d.i.c.kie insisted that they had been used--but in general the mission was recognized, and an eager welcome given; presents of fish-hooks, or of braid and handkerchiefs, established a friendly feeling; and readiness--in which the Hand of the Maker must be recognized--was manifested to intrust lads to the mission for the summer's training at the college in New Zealand--wild lads, innocent of all clothing, except marvellous adornments of their woolly locks, wigged out sometimes into huge cauliflowers whitened with coral lime, or arranged quarterly red and white, and their noses decorated with rings, which were their nearest approach to a pocket, as they served for the suspension of fish-hooks, or any small article. A radiate arrangement of skewers from the nose, in unwitting imitation of a cat's whiskers, had even been known. A few days taught dressing and eating in a civilized fashion; and time, example, and the wonderful influence of the head of the mission, trained these naturally intelligent boys into much that was hopeful.

d.i.c.kie, who had been often at the college, had much to tell of familiarity with the light canoes that some cut out and launched; of the teaching them English games, of their orderly ways in school and in hall; of the prayers in their many tongues, and of the baptism of some, after full probation, and at least one winter's return to their own isles, as a test of their sincerity and constancy. Much as the May family had already heard of this wonderful work, it came all the closer and nearer now. The isle of Alan Ernescliffe's burial-place had now many Christians in it. Harry's friend, the young chief David, was dead; but his people were some of them already teachers and examples, and the whole region was full to overflowing of the harvest, calling out for labourers to gather it in.

Silent as usual, Leonard nevertheless was listening with all his heart, and with parted lips and kindling eyes that gave back somewhat of his former countenance. Suddenly his face struck Mr. Seaford, and turning on him with a smile, he said, 'You should be with us yourself, you look cut out for mission work.'

Leonard murmured something, blushed up to the ears, and subsided, but the simple, single-hearted Mr. Seaford, his soul all on one object, his experience only in one groove, by no means laid aside the thought, and the moment he was out of Leonard's presence, eagerly asked who that young man was.

'Leonard Ward? he is--he is the son of an old friend,' replied Dr. May, a little perplexed to explain his connection.

'What is he doing? I never saw any one looking more suited for our work.'

'Tell him so again,' said Dr. May; 'I know no one that would be fitter.'

They were all taken up with the small grandson the next day. He was ready in his fairy-page trimness to go to the early service at the Minster; but he was full of the colonial nil admirari principle, and was quite above being struck by the grand old building, or allowing its superiority--either to papa's own church or Auckland Cathedral. They took him to present to Mary on their way back from church, when he was the occasion of a great commotion by carrying the precious Master Charlie all across the hall to his mamma, and quietly observing in resentment at the outcry, that of course he always carried little Ethel about when mamma and nurse were busy. After breakfast, when he had finished his investigations of all Dr. May's domains, and much entertained Gertrude by his knowledge of them, Ethel set him down to write a letter to his father, and her own to Meta being engrossing, she did not look much more after him till Dr. May came in, and said, 'I want you to sketch off a portrait of her d.i.c.ky-bird for Meta;' and he put before her a natural history with a figure of that tiny humming-bird which is endowed with swansdown knickerbockers.

'By the bye, where is the sprite?'