Under the Waves: Diving in Deep Waters Part 40

"Mr Hazlit, did you not, two years ago, forbid me to enter your dwelling?"

"True, true," replied the other somewhat disconcerted; "but the events which have occurred since that time warranted your considering that order as cancelled."

"But you did not _say_ it was cancelled. Moreover your first objection still remained, for I was nearly penniless then, although, in the good providence of G.o.d, I am comparatively rich now. I therefore resolved to obey your injunctions, sir, and keep away from your house and from your daughter's distracting influence, until I could return with a few of those pence, which you appear to consider so vitally important."

"Mr Berrington," exclaimed the old gentleman, who was roused by this. .h.i.t, "you mistake me. My opinions in regard to wealth have been considerably changed of late. But my daughter does not love you, and if you were as rich as Croesus, sir, you should not have her hand without her heart."

Mr Hazlit said this stoutly, and, just as stoutly, Edgar replied:--

"If I were as rich as Croesus, sir, I would not _accept_ her hand without her heart; but, Mr Hazlit, I am richer than Croesus!"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean that I am rich in the possession of that which a world's wealth could not purchase--your daughter's affections."

"Impossible! Mr Berrington, your pa.s.sion urges you to deceive yourself."

"You will believe what she herself says, I suppose?" asked Edgar, plunging his hand into a breast-pocket.

"Of course I will."

"Well then, listen," said the youth, drawing out a small three-cornered note. "A good many months ago, when I found my business to be in a somewhat flouris.h.i.+ng condition, I ventured to write to Aileen, telling her of my circ.u.mstances, of my unalterable love, and expressing a wish that she would write me at least one letter to give me hope that the love, which she, allowed me to _understand_ was in her breast _before_ you forbade our intercourse, still continued. This," he added, handing the three-cornered note to the old gentleman, "is her reply."

Mr Hazlit took the note, and, with a troubled countenance, read:--

"Dear Mr Berrington,--I am not sure that I am right in replying to you without my father's knowledge, and only prevail on myself to do so because I intend that our correspondence shall go no further, and what I shall say will, I know, be in accordance with his sentiments. My feelings towards you remain unchanged. We cannot command feelings, but I consider the duty I owe to my dear father to be superior to my feelings, and I am resolved to be guided by his expressed wishes as long as I remain under his roof. He has forbidden me to have any intercourse with you: I will therefore obey until he sanctions a change of conduct. Even this brief note should not have been written were it not that it would be worse than rude to take no notice of a letter from one who has rendered us such signal service, and whom I shall never forget.--Yours sincerely, Aileen Hazlit."

The last sentence--"and whom I shall never forget"--had been carefully scribbled out, but Edgar had set himself to work, with the care and earnest application of an engineer and a lover, to decipher the words.

"Dear child!" exclaimed Mr Hazlit, in a fit of abstraction, kissing the note; "this accounts for her never mentioning him;" then, recovering himself, and turning abruptly and sternly to Edgar, he said:--"How did you dare, sir, to write to her after my express prohibition?"

"Well," replied Edgar, "some allowance ought to be made for a lover's anxiety to know how matters stood, and I fully intended to follow up my letter to her with one to you; but I confess that I did wrong--"

"No, sir, no," cried Mr Hazlit, abruptly starting up and grasping Edgar's hand, which he shook violently, "you did _not_ do wrong. You did quite right, sir. I would have done the same myself in similar circ.u.mstances."

So saying, Mr Hazlit, feeling that he was compromising his dignity, shook Edgar's hand again, and hastened from the room. He met Aileen descending the staircase. Brus.h.i.+ng past her, he went into his bed-room, and shut and locked the door.

Much alarmed by such an unwonted display of haste and feeling, Aileen ran into the library.

"Oh! Mr Berrington, what _is_ the matter with papa?"

"If you will sit down beside me, Aileen," said Edgar, earnestly, tenderly, and firmly, taking her hand, "I will tell you."

Aileen blushed, stammered, attempted to draw back, but was constrained to comply. Edgar, on the contrary, was as cool as a cuc.u.mber. He had evidently availed himself of his engineering knowledge, and fitted extra weights of at least seven thousand tons to the various safety-valves of his feelings.

"Your father," he began, looking earnestly into the girl's down-cast face, "is--"

But hold! Reader; we must not go on. If you are a boy, you won't mind what followed; if a girl, you have no right to pry into such matters.

We therefore beg leave at this point to shut the lids of our dexter eye, and drop the curtain.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

THE LAST.

One day Joe Baldwin, a.s.sisted by his old friend, Rooney Machowl, was busily engaged down at the bottom of the sea, off the Irish coast, slinging a box of gold specie. He had given the signal to haul up, and Rooney had moved away to put slings round another box, when the chain to which the gold was suspended snapt, and the box descended on Joe. If it had hit him on the back in its descent it would certainly have killed him, but it only hit his collar-bone and broke it.

Joe had just time to give four pulls on his lines, and then fainted. He was instantly hauled up, carefully unrobed, and put to bed.

This was a turning-point in our diver's career. The collar-bone was all right in the course of a month or two, but Mrs Baldwin positively refused to allow her goodman to go under water again.

"The little fortin' you made out in Chiny," she said one evening while seated with her husband at supper in company with Rooney and his wife, "pays for our rent, an' somethin' over. You're a handy man, and can do a-many things to earn a penny, and I can wash enough myself to keep us both. You've bin a 'ard workin' man, Joe, for many a year. You've bin long enough under water. You'll git rheumatiz, or somethin' o' that sort, if you go on longer, so I'm resolved that you shan't do it-- there!"

"Molly, cushla!" said Machowl, in a modest tone, "I hope you won't clap a stopper on my goin' under water for some time yit--plaze."

Molly laughed.

"Oh! It's all very well for you to poke fun at me, Mister Machowl,"

said Mrs Baldwin, "but you're young yet, an' my Joe's past his prime.

When you've done as much work as he's done--there now, you've done it at last. I told you so."

This last remark had reference to the fact that young Teddy Machowl, having been over-fed by his father, had gone into a stiff blue-in-the-face condition that was alarming to say the least of it.

Mrs Machowl dashed at her offspring, and, giving him an unmerciful thump on the back, effected the ejection of a ma.s.s of beef which had been the cause of the phenomena.

"What a bu'ster it is--the spalpeen," observed Rooney, with a smile, as he resumed the feeding process, much to Teddy's delight; "you'll niver do for a diver if you give way to appleplectic tendencies o' that sort.

Here--open your mouth wide and shut your eyes."

"Well, well, it'll only be brought in manslaughter, so he won't swing for it," remarked Mrs Baldwin, with a shrug of her shoulders. "Now, Joe," she continued, turning to her husband, "you'll begin at once to look out for a situation above water. David Maxwell can finish the job you had in hand,--speakin' of that, does any one know where David is just now?"

"He's down at the bottom of a gasometer," answered Joe; "leastwise he was there this afternoon--an' a dirty place it is."

"A bad-smellin' job that, I should think," observed Rooney.

"Well, it ain't a sweet-smellin' one," returned Joe. "He's an adventurous man is David. I don't believe there's any hole of dirty water or mud on the face o' this earth that he wouldn't go down to the bottom of if he was dared to it. He's fond of speculatin' too, ever since that trip to the China seas. You must know, Mrs Rooney, if your husband hasn't told you already, that we divers, many of us, have our pet schemes for makin' fortunes, and some of us have tried to come across the Spanish dubloons that are said to lie on the sea-bottom off many parts of our coast where the Armada was lost."

"It's jokin' ye are," said Mrs Machowl, looking at Joe with a sly twinkle in her pretty eyes.

"Jokin'! No, indeed, I ain't," rejoined the diver. "Did Rooney never tell ye about the Spanish Armada?"

"Och! He's bin sayin' somethin' about it now an' again, but he's such a man for blarney that I never belave more nor half he says."

"Sure ain't that the very raison I tell ye always at laste twice as much as I know?" said Rooney, lighting his pipe.

"Well, my dear," continued Joe, "the short an' the long of it is, that about the year 1588, the Spaniards sent off a huge fleet of big s.h.i.+ps to take Great Britain and Ireland by storm--once for all--and have done with it, but Providence had work for Britain to do, and sent a series o'

storms that wrecked nearly the whole Spanish fleet on our sh.o.r.es. Many of these vessels had plenty of gold dubloons on board, so when divin'

bells and dresses were invented, men began to try their hands at fis.h.i.+n'

it up, and, sure enough, some of it was actually found and brought up-- especially off the sh.o.r.es of the island of Mull, in Scotland. They even went the length of forming companies in this country, and in Holland, for the purpose of recovering treasure from wrecks. Well, ever since then, up to the present time, there have been speculative men among divers, who have kept on tryin' their hands at it. Some have succeeded; others have failed. David Maxwell is one of the lucky ones for the most part, and even when luck fails, he never comes by any loss, for he's a hard-workin' man, an' keeps a tight hold of whatever he makes, whether by luck or by labour."