L I B RAHY OF THE UNIVERSITY Of ILLINOIS P77s v.l THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. VOL. I. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/scandinavianring01pome THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. % Safari. JOHN POMEBOY, AUTHOR OF ' GOLDEN PIPPIN,' ' HOME FROM INDIA,' ETC. ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES.— VOL. I. LONDON : TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. 1871. [48 Bights reserved.'] JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PEINTEBS. %Z3 p77s CONTENTS OF YOL. I. 1 CHAP. PAGE I. THE PICTURES 1 II. 1 TRULOFA FIDEM DO ' . . .. 10 III. A LETTER . . .. 18 IV. WAITING FOR THE ANSWER .. 39 V. LIGHT .. 63 g VI. TRUDA .. 73 35 *1 VII. VIII. THE BROTHERS THE AMULET .. 79 .. 97 IX. TEUTONIC .. 109 X. BESSIE .. 116 XI. CHANGING .. 134 XII. WHO WAS IT ? . . .. 142 XIII. FIRST LOVE .. 153 CONTENTS. CHAP. XIV. A SNOWFLAKE XV. THE BLACK LAMB XVI. FAILURE . . XVII. ALONE XVIII. M C LAUGHLAN XIX. THE DOCTOR XX. CROSS PURPOSES XXI. DOVER PAGE 162 171 190 197 212 220 230 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. CHAPTER I. THE PICTURES. AM called McLaughlan, never any- -*- thing else. I have reasons for not mentioning my Christian name, and I can- not bear to hear it, for the recollection of a sweet voice which used to say it — oh, so tenderly ! — I shall carry to my grave. I am a great rough sailor now. At nineteen I weighed twelve stone, and have increased in weight with time. There was a picture drawn from me at the French Exhibition, but as a Danish character, though I was born in Ireland ; 2 THE SCANDINAVIAN KING. and I am going to tell a strange and I fear but ill-connected story, and in a most un- usual manner, for which I offer as apology this. A certain noble lord, — an Irishman, too, — lately published a comedy, and the critics said that it was as if he had written a novel and begun it towards the end of the third volume. It struck me as a new idea in novel writing, and I thank the critic for the new idea; for I have received a kindness, and I want to show that I can be grateful in a manner almost as public as if I wrote i Thanks for the Testimonials ' in the l imes. Beautiful tilings have come to the writer anonymously, so I become McLaugh- lan, and try to interest, in token of my gratitude, those who so generously thought of me. Denmark looks much like England. THE PICTURES. In Kiel harbour the evergreen oaks, flat pastures, and thousand windmills, perhaps, proclaim that you have reached the Danish country; but inland, farms have a home- like look, — neat hedges everywhere sur- round good fields, the land is well culti- vated, and the scenery is pleasing. Helga Dilke now has a garden full of roses as good as those you see in England, and stocks and dahlias, perhaps superior, with a wealth of tulips assorted in mosaic patterns. Ella, who paints quaint pictures, loves the fine old land, and will not leave her studio in Copenhagen. Poor Ella, after a life of storm, has come to anchor, and is at rest ; so is he whom she loved — but how ? This has to be told. And I — McLaughlan — am to tell it all. I may deprecate my story, but it is better modestly still to leave that for the reader to do. 4 THE SCANDINAVIAN KING. Ja, Ja, Meinheer ! So let it pass. I like the dialect of Jutland, — it sounds like Yorkshire English. Do you remember that Hans Anderson and poor Charles Dickens fancied they should understand each other ? — but they did not : they made great mistakes, and laughed about them. Another character whom you will like, — a gentle, loving mother, came from Altona, the capital of Holstein, the second Danish city and the dullest in the world. But who is the hero ? Who is the heroine ? Shall we seek them in Denmark, or in England ? There is a Babel without a Tower, which is the portal from western Europe to Denmark, — all of Scandinavia which we care to traverse. The old free city is my present home. Ireland was, and England is, the grave of my affections. As I begin my narrative a woman sits THE PICTURES. O at her easel painting a weird strange form, but she is yet more worthy of remark. She has eyes which are dark and lustrous, and hair like a raven's wing. She looks as if life were a pang, and her memory one long agony of remorse. She is grace- ful, but careless of appearance, yet with a look of wonderful power ; and when she lights up with one of her rare smiles you see she is not old, as at first you fancied she must be. She paints well. On the canvas comes out a character fearfully human and real. How came Ella there, for she is English ? She has a curious kind of poetry in her composition. She has determination ; can she ever develop softness with those hard eyes, those dark, severe, and handsome lines for eye- brows ? Yes, there is a heart ; but it has yet to reign. It has existed ; can it now expand ? She has to live. She must paint, to gain her bread ; so she remains in Den- 6 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. mark, for she says, ' Society would con- demn me in England.' How does she know the language ? That will easily be answered. Nikel is an old man, Helga's father. He has never left his country except once, to go to Iceland, which he considered a poor and vain romance of Helga's. She made him go to seek a friend and to at- tend a funeral. She sits with him very often beside a lake which is so like one in the north of Ireland that I get dreamy when I go to see it, and scarcely know where I am or what I am about. In the Great Exposition on the Champs de Mars, when Paris was in her highest glory, and the war which came but three years later was yet harmless and un- dreamed of, there were in the Galerie des Beaux Arts but few pictures which came from Denmark. Very few, yet three amongst the short THE PICTURES., 7 catalogue were excellent, and will not be forgotten by any who chanced to look on them. 1 Sunrise at Skagen ! is one, by M. Sovrensen. It shows great waves of bright transparent green between a lighthouse and a vessel which has battled with the storm. l Sunset' in Flynderso, in Jutland, is another, by Kyaerskow ; and myself, a ' Danish Sailor saving a Child from the Shipwreck,' was Ella's venture, and it pleased the picture lovers, who gazed smilingly upon it. This picture especially forms the text, or argument, as the old writers have it, of a modern romance or novelette, ' The Scandinavian Ring.' By far the greater portion of the time will be in England, and in mixed society. Who can control realities ? for ' facts are stubborn things ' ; but life is short and art is Ions'. 8 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. I had the good fortune to save that child ; and the story may, perchance, amuse, and, moreover, if I can only tell it as I wish, will strike a chord of sympa- thy for Robert Beaumont, whose heart, as tender as a delicate fern, spread out to ex- pect companionship and sunshine. I have a trust in a good man's heart, it is so firm, so true, so never changing. Most people write of women and their de- votion (they are not worth writing about, the fickle and poor vain ones) ; but for true devotion I believe a man can equal any woman, and the kindness of his great soft heart has no comparison, for he is never led away. Experience teaches. I speak of all the world as I find them. Leaving the Danish pictures as yet, then, hanging in the Galerie des Beaux Arts of the French Exhibition, we must draw others with pen and ink which would not be worth paint and canvas, but with- THE PICTURES. 9 out which the text or argument could not be carried out. In medias res, then, — let the reader be mystified as he may. For the present we draw a curtain over the Tableaux de Danemark. 10 CHAPTER II c TKULOFA FIDEM DO.' TN everyday life we meet people our -■- equals or superiors and often inferiors in social status, about whom we feel some wish to know particulars. Now, there are a hundred others whom we see, and for whom we do not give a second thought. With some of the former we become acquainted, perhaps ; and having sufficient curiosity inquire a little about them, and learn their merits, and very often some touching, unsuspected history; sometimes mere bits of gossips not worth remember- * TRULOFA FIDEM DO.' 11 This is, no doubt, according to dis- position. Some persons have sufficient curiosity to wish to know the origin of everything, even to what suggested the foundation of a novel. Dumas acknowledged this, and he gave us two volumes called ' Les Causeries,' which are simple relations or confessions of little incidents or thoughts which led to the writing of some of his monster works. Others will say, ' What matter ? If a book be good, what signifies how it origin- ated ? ' Some care to know who built the house they live in, or the house that Jack built. It would lead to endless discussion to try to discover the original Jack ! Except the Temple of Jerusalem, it is to me indifferent whence the materials came for any other edifice. Yet after thus proclaiming ray sentiments as a general rule, I take out a ring formed of two ser- pents, and am untrue to myself; for I acknowledge to having felt the keenest 12 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. curiosity regarding it, and I have suffered, when it was lost and when it was found, sucli pangs as make me ready to believe in magical influences. The Danish Trulofa fidem do, I plight my troth, is the northern symbol of love and fidelity, and a love-gift is always superstitious! y kept and guarded. Truda Beaumont brought the first Scandinavian ring to England. It has become a fashionable form of ornament now, — witness the handsome testimonial which I acknowledged on the first page of dedication to the unknown givers. I write the truth concerning Truda's ring, and as the talisman has worked, give it the credit for its strange influences ; for the highest cultivation does not cast away superstition, which is inherent in human nature. There were days in which I said re- ligion was but superstition, and faith was feeble still. I am rougher now than then, 1 TRULOFA FIDEM DO.' 13 but faith is stronger. I renounced re- ligion ; but God is merciful, and has not quite forgotten rae. The loss of the ring gave rise to my friendship for Eobert Beaumont : this kept me from perdition. I think it will come to be a love-gift even to me. In Greece and Egypt they used the Amphisbena ; but the serpent with its tail in its mouth — the old emblem of eternity — shall not interfere with my northern amulet. The Baltic Sea has islands w r hich give birth to hundreds of superstitious beliefs ; people w T ill be superstitious, sailors espe- cially, for ever. Sailors are sailors all over the world, as savages are savages, or little children are still children, of whatsoever nation their parents may be born. I have learned so much of Danish lore, that I have come to love its histories and the quiet ways of its good people. Alton a is a learned city, and its more 14 THE SCANDINAVIAN EING. lively inhabitants have only to go to Ham- burg, which, indeed, they all seem to do, on the very smallest provocation. 'Les habitants d'Altona sont sans cesse a Hambourg ; ils y vendent, achetent, echangent et jouent ; ils y font toute espece de trafics ; ils n'ont pas d' autre bourse que celle de Hambourg ; en un mot, le peuple d'Altona habite en Dane- mark, mais il vit a Hambourg. 'La ville Hbre a fait sur le royaume une conquete toute morale, plus sure que bien des conquetes materielles. ' Pres d'Altona, le jardin Boos, le plus beau jardin botanique du Nord, livre a 1' admiration des voyageurs ses forets de geraniums et d'azalees, et ses magnifiques collections de plantes aquati- ques et exotiques. ' On y remarque une abondance inexprimable de ces singulieres plantes qui ressemblent plutot a des insectes et a des reptiles qu'a des vegetaux, les unes couvertes de longs poils piquant comme certaines especes de chenilles, d'autres avec une peau rugueuse, qui imite la peau des plus grands lezards. £ On est tout etonne de voir sortir des fleurs eclatants de cet etrange et menacant fouillis. 1 A une lieue du jardin botanique est situe 1 TEULOFA FIDEM DO.' 15 le petit village d'Ottenzen, ou repose KLopstock. 'Le cimetiere d'Ottenzen n'ade cimetiere que le nom. On serait d'abord tente de le prendre pour un grand bouquet : il est touffu, paisible, desert, silencieux ; une herbe epaisse y croit de toutes parts et y cache les croix; les fleurs s'y epanouissent, les oiseaux y font leurs nids, le pay- san voyageur y jette un regard, et ne s'eloigne pas sans saluer cet asile de paix. 1 Le tombeau de KLopstock est tres-simple. 1 TJne figure de Vierge d'une grace severe le surnionte, un grand tilleul le couvre de son ombre. ' C'est bien la que devait dormir, — rever peut- etre, — ce poete de la melancolie mystique.' I copy these words from a modern French traveller, who also says — ' t Les rives de la Baltique sont couvertes de bois magnifiques : des chenes, des frenes, des charm es, des ormes, des hetres de la plus superbe croissance descendent par de douces pentes jusqu' aux flots et mirent le vert eclatant de leur feuil- lage dans le vert indecis des vagues. ' Cette verdure du Danemark, nous n'en avons pas idee. ' Chaque feuille parait taillee dans une emeu- raude. Ce n'est ni le vert tendre et delicat du printemps, ni la couleur rousse un peu passee de 16 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. l'automne: c'est le vrai vert de 1'ete, franc, vigoureux, brillant, plein de seve, qui eblouit et ravit le regard.' Yes, they call Ireland a green country, but I find it rusty brown compared with Denmark. From such verdure came most of our characters. It is but a glance we have taken, and humanity limits us to seeing only one country at a time, but we have memory which seems to have power to place us with a higher order of existence, who, I suppose, may have the happy faculty, amongst other attributes as yet sealed to us, of harmonizing simultaneously people, countries, and even thoughts. To know more and yet more is the craving of the highest of earthly minds ; to get wisdom and to get understanding was the advice given long ago to the great king of the day. With all the science and the revelations of later date, are we yet the happier? is our nature but much as 1 TRULOFA FIDEM DO.' 17 David and Solomon knew it to be, and others of more remote antiquity ? I question if we know now as much as did the Babylonians and the Chaldeans, but I recognize this fact the more I read and the more I think. We shall know. With a sudden inspiration, in the twinkling of an eye, knowledge and happi- ness will come, and the sorrowing, will in some new and unknown manner triumph. VOL. I. 18 CHAPTER III. A LETTER. A T the same time that the dark-eyed -*■■*- woman Ella painted pictures in her studio in Thorwaldsen Street, at Copen- hagen, and had so well succeeded as to be amongst those artists whose works were sent to Paris, in a wide street in London lived Mr Joshua Ribbs. He carried on an extensive trade as a very fashionable butcher. The shop was neatly covered with saw- dust, and every carcase and joint bore evidence of care, — that the most skilful hands had bled and killed the animal, that the cutting up had been the work of an A LETTER. 19 anatomist ; and the superior qualities of fat and lean were then displayed to tell their own tale about good feeding, and to in- vite purchasers. Gentlemen frequently visited the es- tablishment of Mr Bibbs, to choose and send home choice portions, or the usual meat supplies for their families, and smart footmen or comely cooks were often there, ordering substantial rounds of beef, or roasting pieces which had delicate fat over- lying the well-developed lean, which be- tokened good pasturage and experienced breeding. The street was sloppy with melted snow, one dreary November day, when Joshua Bibbs, having despatched his several bareheaded boys with their trays full of well-trimmed joints to various destinations, stood for some minutes alone in silent thought. He was a large and handsome man, and in spite of his blue apron and the 20 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. dangling steel, which denoted his calling, he had the manners and gestures of the highest class. Except his dress, there was nothing vulgar about Mr Ribbs ; even his hands, well used as they appeared to be, were not in the least degree coarse : he was one of those fair-skinned men who look clean under almost any circumstances. His hair was thick and crisp, and in- clined to curl, and his eyes so blue when they looked fully at you, that they made you wonder whether you had ever seen eyes so blue before. He gave one the idea, too, as he stood there looking out, that he had worn whiskers and a large moustache, but for some reason had preferred to shave them off. A butcher with the ease of a gentleman and the drilled second nature of a tried soldier, surveyed with those blue eyes the mud, and slop, and filth, which defile our A LETTER. 21 great London thoroughfares in winter, when uncarted-away snow accumulates, or melts with mingled streams of undis- tinguishable nastiness. It was a dismal dark November, and this day drearier than others. There was no fog, which could hide or make less visible the miserable street ; a little sleet at intervals blinded the passers by, who slid upon the greasy pavement, or dreaded the ill-swept and dangerous crossings. Whilst standing thus, hatless, and lost in thought, the bustling postman put into his hands the midday letters, and hurried awav to his next-door neighbour. Half-a-dozen orders were amongst Mr Bibbs' postal delivery that day, and some notices from wealthy graziers in the coun- try that certain stock would be delivered up in town by certain trains, and so forth ; but one letter had a foreign stamp and the postmark — of l Copenhagen.' 22 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. ' Bessie/ said Mr Ribbs, opening a door at the back of his desk, whither he had retreated to enter his cattle lists and to file his orders, — i Bessie, here is a letter from Bob.' There came no answer, so he opened his letter, and having read its few words sat for a long time with his head leaning upon his hand. It said only — 1 Dear Joshua, ' I am afraid it is all up with me, but you will see to the child. Give my love to Bessie. ' Your affectionate < Bob.' There came then several interruptions in the way of business ; but having settled the wants of his customers, and received many messages from his returning errand- boys, he dispatched the bare heads again, A LETTER. 23 and leaving a chosen youth in charge, retired behind the private green-baize- covered door. ' Bessie,' he said again, ' here is a letter from Bob.' ' Bessie is out, dear,' a gentle voice replied from a room again within, and towards which Mr Ribbs stepped lightly across the antichamber. He sought the speaker^ and took a woman's hand tenderly and respectfully. ' How are you to-day ? ' he asked. 1 Well ; this is a good day,' was the answer, given with a pleasant smile. i I feared it would be a pain day,' said Mr Ribbs. ' So did I ; but I got that over in the night. I am only tired.' , This woman had been shipwrecked, and was almost crippled with returning pains, which would remind her of the open boat. Mr Ribbs brought a chair, and sat be- side her. 24 THE SCANDINAVIAN KING. 6 Tell me the news/ she said. ' Do you know where Bessie is ? ' 'Yes; she is out to get some trifles which I wanted, and will not be long.' Then Mr Ribbs gave her an epitome of the news of the day, and the leading events, foreign and domestic. This was a kindly custom of his, for there were days of agony, when she could neither hold a book or paper, or even grasp her needle, to amuse the long hours. She never complained ; she had suffered too acutely to complain. We deceive our- selves. We believe in what we see. We think that bad which we can compass. It is the novelty of pain, the newest grief, which makes the most display. Deep sufferings are like the deep brave heart which bears it all — silently. Mrs Rockingham, we call her, was very resolute; her cheeks grew thinner when the mind became unmanageable, or the pains which the long wet open boat and A LETTER. 25 rescue had devolved upon her, but she never made one sound of murmur. She read and ever studied, for her mind was active, and it is a mistake that age blunts the faculties, — they are only better trained and stronger. The half hours that Mr Eibbs spent with her were always highly valued, for she liked to know the news of the world. Mrs Rockingham had come to be aged if we compare her with younger women and girls. She did not look so old as she was, for on many days she had no wrin- kles, and always wore a placid, pleased ex- pression. She had dark eyes and fine eyebrows, and sometimes the fine colour in her lips and cheeks, with pretty varying tints, made her quite beautiful. This gave a false idea of youth and health which had ceased to be her pos- session. She could rarely leave the house when winter had once set in. 26 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. Sitting by the fire, chatting with Mrs Rockingham, Mr Ribbs awaited his wife's return. She came ; and could a stranger say what sort of a person he expected in a butcher's wife, he could not most certainly have described the lady who entered. i Bessie, here is a letter from Bob.' ' Oh, thank you ; I am so glad.' 1 It is not for you, Bessie, but for me.' 1 No matter ; read it to me, please.' He read the letter to her. < Dear Joshua, ' I am afraid it is all up with me, but you will see to the child. Give my love to Bessie. ' Your affectionate < Bob.' ' What can he mean ? ' l Who is the child ? ' they asked each other in the same breath. A LETTER. 27 1 He must have married,' Mrs Rocking- ham suggested. 4 But we should have heard of it,' said Mr Eibbs. 1 Perhaps,' Bessie said, ' it is not his child. What can we do ? and what does the other part mean ? ' ' About its being all up with him ? ' ' Yes. Surely he is not ill ! ' 1 Or his speculations failed ? ' said her husband. ' Bessie, you must write to Copenhagen to-day, will you ? ' 1 Certainly ; I will write at once.' ' Write also to Helga,' said Mr Ribbs, as he rose to leave the room and to return to his business. < I will write to Helga and to Nikel too.' ' Do so. Thank you, Bessie.' Mr Ribbs left her. Bessie went away also, to remove her walking-dress. 28 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. Mrs Rockingham sat quietly watching the fire. A servant girl came in and put fresh coals upon the fire, and brushed the ashes from the hearth, then disappeared. Bessie returned. Her magnificent hair was loosely, but becomingly and fashion- ably, arranged, — it was sufficient ornament to enrich any woman's looks, but Bessie had also both beauty and style. She had deep hazel eyes, that served to astonish a beholder with their vivacity and sweetness. They looked as if they could flash if she could be angry, but their beauty consisted in their tenderness and loving trust, which told that it would re- quire more than this world to rouse them to anger. Bessie had none of her mother's fine colour in her deliciously soft complexion, but she had the softest skin, and, with her fair hair and hazel eyes, was a very strik- ingly beautiful creature. Simply as she was dressed, Bessie A LETTEK. 29 looked still less like a tradesman's wife than did her husband like a butcher. Yet there they were, — the shop, the sawdust, the baize door, the sitting-rooms beyond. Bessie looked as if a palace ought to be her home. Yet so graceful was she, so re- fined, so natural, that she yet assimilated with her entourage, and one saw nothing else. She sat down. The folds of her dress fell not like a common person's, — that pecu- liar ease of motion which well-bred people have is always recognized. The room was neat and very nicely kept, everything nice about it, and in good taste. There were no vulgar colours glaring and intruding on the vision, — it seemed, that room, to be a harbour of refuge, a haven from the storm and smoke of the great city round about. 6 What can Robert mean, mother ? ' 30 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. ' I am at a loss to conjecture, Bessie ; we must wait till an answer can come.' ' Will it be of any use to write to Nikel?' ' Perhaps it may.' Mrs Rockingham spoke in the Danish tongue, and recom- mended Bessie to set Helga to work at once, for she added, ' I know so little of Robert, it is only useless to ask me ; but Helga and Nikel can find out many things; and you have faith in Robert, Bessie ?' i Unlimited,' said Bessie. * I know he is so good a man that, though I cannot understand many things, I would do much to rescue him from trouble.' 1 It is evident,' said the mother, ' that he is not doing well, nor has he confided in Nikel, but his letters since I came to England have been few and certainly a little inexplicable, I fancy.' 1 It is not safe to say much, mother.' Bessie looked up from her letter to Helga to say this, and she added that she A LETTER. 31 feared there would be great difficulty in finding out Robert's movements or inten- tions. Danish is said to sound like English, but it is better to write all they said in English, though the two ladies continued to speak all the time the servant arranged the large table with cloth, and spoons, and all the requisites for Mr Bibbs' dinner. Bessie having a small writing-table near to Mrs Rockingham, and as they both talked, the beautiful rose tint came into the mother's cheek, and the daughter looked fondly at her, and said some talis- manic words from time to time when advice was asked or a fresh remark was given. There was a strange deep sympathy between the two, who had but met very lately after years of separation, so long as to be almost all the daughter's life. Bessie finished her task, and having closed the envelopes, she bent her richly- 32 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. laden head, and the fair-haired daughter kissed the dark-haired mother, moved to more than usual tenderness ; then she said, ' I must take these to Rudolf, for I have no proper stamps.' So she crossed the apartment, and the next, and half opening the baize-covered door, she called one of the young boys and asked, i Is your master here ? ' ' Yes, madam.' ' Ask him for some stamps for these two letters for me.' Mr Ribbs hearing her voice, made an inclination of the head to the person with whom he was then speaking, and passed on to his wife, saying a few words to her in Danish, which sent Bessie back to her parlour happy, contented, and satisfied. She broke forth from a long silence with, ' Mother, I wonder what Bob can mean ? ' I fear he is in sore distress.' A LETTER. 33 1 But the child ! whose is the child ? that puzzles me ! ' 1 Yes, it is not a very lucid letter ; but if he is ill, it is quite natural for him to write so little, and most likely he thinks your husband knows more than he does.' 1 Yes, I suppose it is so. I feel as if it had done me good, mamma. A letter from Denmark always does, I think. I feel as if a breath of the broad ocean had come to me. I am refreshed by it, for I do so love the sea.' < And so do I, though I have suffered by it, suffered and lost by it.' ' Yes, mother ; but still we Danish love the sea. I should like to see more of it, — to be on it.' 1 I think, Bessie, you would like to be sent to look for Robert, and to bring that baby home.' ' I should. I could fancy now I hear the booming of the sea. I love the briny smell and the restless, labouring waves.' 34 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. i Yet you are contented, Bessie ? ' ' Yes, I am quite contented now. I owe the sea something, for it has brought Rudolf home.' e The sea and I are quits,' said Mrs Rockingham. ' I know, mother.' She laid her beau- tiful head caressingly upon her mother's shoulder, and after a silence said, ' Yes, in spite of everything, Robert's letter has done me good. I seem to have seen Helga, and the red streaks, and the sky without these London clouds. The waves baptized in light in all the morning splendour. I seem to have breathed a purer air. I do love the sea ; the freedom of the great ocean and the calm of summer, or the howling tempest in winter is equally entrancing.' ' Yet my wild bird is caged in London.' 6 Yes ; larks sing best in cages, they say.' i So you would like to be sent to look A LETTER. 35 for this wanderer? I think you would enjoy it, too, from the first entrance to the Baltic to your return with Bob's myste- rious child.' ' Perhaps that most of all. Mother, in the Danish portion of the exhibition, when Rudolf and I took that week to run over in October, I saw a picture of a sailor saving a child.' The servant entered, and Mrs Rocking- ham was called away, so Bessie let her vivid imagination carry her away. She sat quite still till her husband came, but her mind's eye was very busy. Bessie saw — A ship dangerously pitching in a heavy sea. Then rocks appeared, and a light- house. The sea ran far too high for any one to go to the assistance of the stately vessel. There were cries and the agonies of death. Great billows bore up the wreck, for the rocks have done her fatal injury. 36 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. Amongst the surging waters Bessie watched a Igreat square sailor-form breast- ing the water mountains. Mad despair was all around him, yet he, undaunted, battled with the waves, and kept his eyes upon the lighthouse. The foam and spray boiled, and were roaring round it. The vessel quivered and went down. The square-built sailor rose from the water, dashed towards the narrow strip of beach, which showed from time to time, at uncer- tain intervals, when the huge waves drew further back than usual. He breathed hard, and made one final and enduring effort, and with his last power of exertion he threw himself upon the lighthouse rock, and held aloft a little child. ' Saved ! ' cried Bessie aloud. Her husband had just re-entered, dressed and changed to suit the hour. He gave a laugh, and said, A LETTER. 37 1 Who is saved, Bessie ? were you burning something, and have escaped without burnt fingers ? ' ' Oh, I have had ten minutes of ro- mance — a vision, if you like — founded, I suppose, upon that picture I liked so much in Paris. I have seen the sailor save the child.' 1 Were you sleeping, Bessie ? ' 1 No ; far from it. I think it is Robert who is the sailor, but I am not quite sure. He was short and square, and — like him.' The baize door was opened, and Mr Ribbs was called away. Bessie roused herself ; then a bell rang, and dinner was ready. Lights were in the parlour, the fire made up, well-cooked food was before them. Mr Ribbs was cheerful, though he said, ' Bessie, do not talk of the sailor any more.' Mrs Rockingham was placed at the table, and a pleasant social evening passed behind the butcher's shop. The breath of the ocean had refreshed 38 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. her, Bessie said ; she was gay and light of heart, proud and humble by turns ; full of sense and information. Bessie talked as a woman of the world talks, freely and well, with her husband, on any subject he initiated. Bob and his dangers were hopefully put aside, for several days must elapse before her letters could be answered. 39 CHAPTER IV. WAITING FOR THE ANSWER. TT came on to rain heavily the next day, -*- and Bessie could not go out. It was dark as the shortest day in December could be, though it still wanted a whole month in actual time. It had snowed all night, and London was miserable in the extreme. A partial thaw made the streets more than ankle deep in slush. Cabs splashed the mud about in all directions. Foot pas- sengers were in greater than ordinary danger, for omnibus horses slipped and fell, and the poor sweepers were over- whelmed with the cold. I, McLaughlan, was in Dublin lately, and little as I now 40 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. care for the place, my last visit to it has left a better impression than any former one, for the police, in new and handsome dresses, did their duty, and prevented accidents. I walked from my hotel in Sackville Street to Nassau Street. At Carlisle Bridge and by the College three or four fine stal- wart figures stood or moved, to protect foot passengers from cabs, or carriages, or drays. I was delighted, and stood to enjoy the fun, for they bullied the coachmen not a little; however, they did protect the ladies, and I watched one nice creature quietly follow a helmeted giant, and he seemed as if he rather liked it, and had his arms ready to save her very willingly . They had a fine appearance. One fellow was six feet three, I think, and kept pacing the crossing in front of Trinity College. These fine police sentinels all but made me regret Dublin, for, as I said, it was my WAITING FOR THE ANSWER. -11 last visit, just the day before I left by Kingstown and Holyhead, for Hull — and Denmark. Silver-laced and well-drilled police did not pace up and down the crossing at the end of the street in which Mr Bibbs sold Southdown mutton, and beef from the favourite counties. Dirty and disorderly, the London crowd passed on. The trains were all late, — the rails were in the condition when wheels could not be made to bite, and it was hard to start them with engine-power, which was ample at other times. It was a day when one feels out of sorts, and Bessie and her mother looked for the hour of Budolf 's release with much anxiety. Mr Bibbs' dinner hour had been disturbed by unavoidable cattle affairs, so a heavy tea was to make up for all defi- ciencies, and he was tired, and glad to take it in the pleasant society of Bessie. 42 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. i How many cups of tea have I had ? ' he asked. 1 Only two ; or three, perhaps/ said Bessie. He drank another, and said, ' Send away the things. Busy as I was to-day I have written several letters con- cerning Robert, — there are so many things I cannot understand.' ' What sort of things ? ' asked Bessie. ' My poor father for one, and Ella Storton for another. You set me thinking, Bessie, by your romance about the storm, and your description of the sailor.' < How so?' 'You recollect last month I said that portrait was so like McLaughlan ? ' 1 Yes, you did ; and I said it was like poor Robert. What has connected those two men so closely ? ' 1 It is all mysterious as yet,' Rudolf sighed. c I have been thinking over things all day ; it has been a wretched day, too, I WAITING FOR THE ANSWER. 43 am glad it is over. I have not heard from McLaughlan, either, for some time. I wonder where he can be ? ' ' I think he was in Paris. I saw the square form you talk of in the Avenue Rapp, and again one day at the Restaurant, in fact, eating at Spiers and Pond's.' i It may be so, — he is a strange wander- ing soul. But your little vision set me all on the qui vive, and to-day is the anniversary of the wreck of the Iscambria.' I Was Mr McLaughlan in that ? ' I I do not know ; but Robert was.' < Where?' c The Iscambria? she was cast ashore in the Bay of Saint Bruno.' ■ That was during your dreary stay in the north of Ireland ? ' ' Yes, Bessie, our bitter time of separa- tion.' ' How came Robert there ? ' Rudolf's blue eyes were looking in- wards ; the expression of his face changed, 44 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. and he looked less anxious ; and then speak- ing, said, ' No one, especially in England, would believe how beautiful it is there sometimes. That bay has little green islands, and brown jutting rocks covered with Bismarck- coloured rack, which would make lovely pictures.' ' Did you paint there ? ' i Sometimes, Bessie ; little things in oil or water-colour, — sketches for some lady's table at a fancy fair.' < Did they sell well ? ' 1 Yes, Bessie, I believe they did. You are not jealous now, my darling ? ' c No, Rudolf. I am sheltered now. So you found Saint Bruno's Bay amused you?' ' Yes ; did I not write to you from there ? ' 1 You did, — the nicest of nice letters.' c I liked to go there for the decoy shooting.' i What ? shooting what ? ' asked Bessie . WAITING FOR THE ANSWER. 45 'All sorts of beautiful sea-birds, and sometimes seals. The creatures would lie about the rocks in some weather, and I liked to watch their mild eyes as they tumbled into the water, or rose near my boat and looked at me.' ' Yes; I like seals and their solemn eyes.' ^Such beautiful long sea-weeds too, and jelly-fish of various kinds, and sea-mice, and abundance of curious sea things were there. But my chief pleasure was to go into the caves, and on a clear day it was worth one's time to watch star-fish, and sea- urchins, and moving things go in and out amongst the long weeds which waved over the bottom of the bay.' < Tell me, though, about the Iscambria.' < She was wrecked there.' ' Yes, I know ; but Eobert ? ' ' Was one of the few saved. He has turned up once or twice after so long an absence, that I hope it is not " all up " with him yet, as he expresses it.' 46 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. 'We will not give him up,' said Bessie. ' He had a narrow escape from the Iscarnbria ; his friends all went clown.' ' Is it stormy there ? ' i Desperately so at times. The wild waves rush in against the rocks with such force that they threaten to wash over all Ireland. Then the fiercest of northern seas becomes a mass of foam, which rolls and floats for some days after, perhaps followed suddenly by a calm so complete that pretty sailing-boats would glide about in a few hours and banish care.' ' But were you there when Bob was saved ? ' ' Yes ; I was near there for many weeks. The Iscarnbria, however, had a dead set of bad luck ; for the moon was shining, and though the storm was bad enough, she had often ridden out a far worse, but the rocks and the bad luck were too many for them, as the people said, and Robert of course WAITING FOR THE ANSWER. 47 attributed that, as all our misfortunes, to the loss of the amulet.' ' I hope,' said Mrs Rockingham, 'to see that ring some day, for you have quite in- oculated me with faith in it.' 1 Fortune has deserted us since that ring disappeared,' said Rudolf, ' so, if I see it again, I will consider it a good omen.' 1 Will consider it,' said Bessie, smiling ; ( that comes of your long residence in Ireland.' 1 I mean it, my dear. I will, that is, I shall exercise determination to look upon the recovery of our amulet as foreboding good, I give in, therefore, to superstition.' < After all ? Oh, Rudolf! and I, a Dane, have none. I have always derided the old Scandinavian stories, and you, dear Rudolf, are foolishly superstitious about an old curiosity ? ' ' Yes, Bessie, I believe in the old ring. As to your Norse and Viking stories, they are nothing to our Jack the Giant Killer, -±8 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. and Arthur, King of Britain. Myth- ology and the old beliefs had better go on, — we must have something to fall back upon, so let old superstitions pass muster. They are better after all than spirit-rapping and the like. Even in the Romish Church it takes a hundred years to make a saint. It was only Romu- lus who had the luck to be sainted at once ! ' 1 Then you believe that if you got the ring you would be Rudolf Beaumont again ? ' ' I do, with all his wealth and privi- leges.' Mr Ribbs said this and laughed. ' I think when I see the ring I may safely promise you all this, Bessie.' ' Then you do not expect to get it ? ' for womanlike, Bessie, though she laughed at superstition, had begun to hope in it. ' Bessie, I have you. Some day things may come straight ; if they do and I see WAITING FOR THE ANSWER. 49 the ring, we will gladly give it credit.' ' Tell me more of the Iscambria,' said Bessie. c I had got leave for some widgeon- shooting, so had settled myself in a cottage near the sea-shore, and also close to a boat- man's hut or cabin, where I used to spend most of my time. Barny Fagin's cabin had a nice square window which looked out over the glancing water, and there I used to smoke, and watch the seal or the widgeon. i The tide rolled up almost to the door at high-water, and I used to think I was better off than in the ship's cabin coming from India, for I detest the motion, and very often let the boat remain unlaunched, for I could shoot from the shore and wade to obtain my victims. The cabin was steady, Bessie, and it was very cold weather, so you must not set me down as too great a coward, and I ought to add, Barny was himself very cautious both of himself and VOL. I. 4 50 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. his boat, so it was not every day, even if I felt inclined to go out, that he would go with me. 'He had a very nice mother there, and a pretty daughter : both used to knit and tell me beautiful tales, and they would bake a potato cake for me, which was an innocent amusement, Bessie.' 6 Very ; are potato cakes good ? ' 'Yes; they are mashed up with milk and some flour : they made me scones, too, — for the people are very like the Scotch, I believe, about there, — and oat-cake, very crisp and thin. ' Mary Fagin, the old mother, used to wear a cap with a double frill to it, which stood up from her sunburnt face like a white framework.' ' Like the Norman caps ? ' £ Oh no. The Irish cap is a round-the- face sort of affair, but as stiff as starch could make it; not fluted, like French caps, either, but in good large half-circles.' WAITING FOR THE ANSWER. 51 1 Ironed on a large Italian iron ? ' sug- gested Mrs Rockingham. ' I do not know ; but it suited her, and I took a portrait of her dark face, and got a photograph, which she believed was only on account of my admiration for her nice cap. 1 She had all the ways of youth, and was so respectful and attentive, that I guessed she must have served some family of dis- tinction ; and I asked her to tell me her his- tory, for she was so spotlessly clean about herself and her house, as not to agree with my preconceived notions of her country. < Barny had to go to the further end of the county one day to attend the sessions, as a witness about some small misdemean- our, so I presented myself at Mary Fagins', and got the old woman into the right vein for story-telling. 'She made me some bread that day she called " fadge," of whole meal or wheaten flour; and with her good butter and a glass of milk, it was a fine repast. S&«* ,tf "* 52 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. 'It grew dark early. The girl was busy ironing, and Mrs Fagin lighted what she called a "bit of a candle," and told me, as she sat knitting with nimble fingers, that her husband was a sailor ; but before she married him she had been taught the art of dressmaking, and had been in a responsi- ble situation as upper-maid. 1 This accounted for her excellent man- ners. 'She came from another cabin "out by," which I took to mean not very far off. ' The moon rose early that evening, and we could see far across Saint Bruno's Bay, where the white horses, crested with light, rode on towards the " head rocks," where the breakers were dashing and rolling at a great rate. 1 A track of moonlight seemed to come up to the cabin door, and I listened to Mary Fagin with great attention as I watched it. < A sailor's wife tells the story of a wreck with a thrilling earnest tremble in her WAITING FOR THE ANSWER. 53 voice, which gives power and evidence to every word. ' She married. Her husband, Bernard Fagin, went voyages with a little trading vessel, of which he was part-owner; but the " Countess of Cassilis" was incomplete in crew and overladen with cargo. 1 On one occasion a boy was swept over- board in a gale of wind ; at another time, when just arriving in port, with coals or timber, a boy was " foundered," — dead of cold and terror, at the foot of the cabin stairs. ' They had to hold an inquest, and Bernard Fagin was ill for a long time after that, " with all the worry of it." ' The next voyage was unlucky too, — the ship got jammed upon the " Drum- head" rocks, somewhere about the coast of Scotland, and had to be " fixed and mended." i A year or two passed pretty prosper- ously, and Mrs Fagin had a young Bernard, 54 THE SCANDINAVIAN KING. and remained in the cabin on the shore, to pray for her husband and all at sea. i Then, Bessie, she hesitated, came to a stop, looked out upon the night, snuffed the candle, inspected the girl's ironing heaps, and I, seeing her emotion, rose to release her from finishing her story, for I saw she feared to tell me the rest, but she said, " Sit down, sir, if you please ; it has to come, and is not the only sorrow that I have to speak of." c She made up the fire with a few sods of turf, and continued her narration. 1 " There came a last voyage for my husband and the ' Countess,' sir. The owners of the vessel had not ventured to insure her, for by this time there was hardly a foot of sound timber in her, so much had she been tinkered at and over- hauled. < " They went to England with quarry stones or timber, I dis-remember which, and were to bring back coals for the qual- WAITING FOR THE ANSWER. 55 ity around the port she favoured for, if good luck had been hers. 1 " But the luck, sir, did not stick to her or Barney, God rest his soul ! 1 " Besides that, she was short of a man, and the new one they had was foreign to my Bernard. c " They left the English port, sir, to come back. '"It was against advice, too, as we heard long afterwards ; but her captain was strong-headed : the tide served at three in the morning, so he got up in the middle of the night, and called up all concerned, and started. '"Whether the highest and wildest wave of the storm capsized them early or late, whether they clung to life for a season, or were paralyzed with cold and fear, and prayed their last breaths away, or whether the poor l Countess of Cassilis ' went down like a shot in the mid-ocean, sir, none can tell. 56 THE SCANDINAVIAN RING. '"We only know they never came home. In a fortnight we had sent tele- grams here and there, but none had seen or heard of them, so by Christmas-day we gave them up."