The Actress' Daughter Part 19

"Oh, she'll be drownded! she'll be drownded! I know she will, and sarve her right, too--a ventursome, undutiful young hussy! Oh, my gracious!

what are you all a-standing here for, a-doing nothing, and Georgey drownding? Go right off this minit and git a boat and go after her.

There! there! she's down now! No, she's up again, but she's sartin to be drownded, the infernally young fool! Oh, Pete Jinking! you derned lazy old coward! get out your boat and go arter her! Oh, Pete! you're a nice old man! do go arter her! There! now she's upsot! No, she's right end up agin, but the next time she sure to go! Oh, my conscience! won't none en ye go arter her, you miserable set of sneakin' cowards you! Oh, my stars and garters! what a life I lead long o' that there derned young gal!"

"There's no boat to be had," said "Pete Jinking," "and if there was, Miss Georgia's skiff would live where a larger one would go down. If _she_ can't manage it, no one can."

"Oh, yes! talk, talk, talk! git it off your own shoulders, you cowardly old porpoise, you! afraid to venture where a delikay young gal does. Oh, Georgey, you blamed young pepper-pod, wait till I catch hold of you!"

said Miss Jerusha, wringing her hands in the extremity of her distress.

"She has reached him! she has reached him! There, she has him in the boat!" cried the stranger, excitedly.

"And she has got him! she has got him! Hurra! hurra! hurra!" shouted the crowd on the sh.o.r.e, as they breathlessly shaded their eyes to gaze across the foaming waters.

Steering her light craft with a master hand, Georgia reached the rock barely in time, for scarcely had the lad leaped into the boat when a huge wave swept over the rocks, and not one there but shuddered at the death he had so narrowly escaped.

But the occupants of the skiff were far from safe, and a dead silence fell on all as they hushed the very beating of their hearts to watch.

She had turned its head towards the sh.o.r.e, and bending her slight form to the oars, she pulled vigorously against the das.h.i.+ng waves. Now poised and quivering on the topmost crest of some large wave, now sinking down, down, far down out of sight until they feared it would never rise, yet, still re-appearing, she toiled bravely. Her long, wild, black hair, unbound by the wind, streamed in the breeze, drenched and dripping with sea-brine. On and on toiled the brave girl, nearer and nearer to the sh.o.r.e she came, until at last, with a mighty shout, that burst involuntarily from their relieved hearts, a dozen strong hands were extended, caught the boat, and pulled it far up on the sh.o.r.e. And then "Hurrah! hurrah! Hurrah for Georgia! hurrah for Georgia Darrell!" burst from every lip, and hats were waved, and the cheer arose again and again, until the welkin rang, and the crowd pressed around her, shaking hands, and congratulating her, and hemming her in, until, half laughing, half impatient, she broke from them, exclaiming:

"There, there, good folks, that will do--please let me pa.s.s. Mrs. Smith, here is your naughty little boy; you will have to take better care of him for the future. Uncle Pete, will you just look after my skiff, and bring those oars up to the house? My clothes are so heavy with the wet that they are as much as I can carry. Now, Miss Jerusha, don't begin to scold; I am not drowned, you see, so it will be all a waste of ammunition. Come along; I want to get out of this crowd."

Fatigued with her exertions, pale and wet, she toiled wearily up the bank, very unlike herself. The stranger, m.u.f.fled in his black brigandish-looking cloak and slouched hat, stood motionless watching her, and Georgia glanced carelessly at him and pa.s.sed on. Strangers were not much of a novelty in Burnfield now, so this young, distinguished looking gentleman awoke no surprise until she saw him advance toward her with outstretched hand. And Georgia stepped back and glanced at him in haughty amaze.

"Miss Darrell, you are a second Grace Darling. Allow me to congratulate you on what you have done to-day."

"Sir!"

"You will not shake hands, Miss Darrell? And yet we are not strangers."

"You labor under a mistake, sir! I do not know you! Will you allow me to pa.s.s?"

He stood straight before her, a smile curling his mustached lip at her regal hauteur.

"And has five years, five short years, completely obliterated even the memory of Richmond Wildair?"

"Richmond Wildair! _Who was he?_" she said, lifting her eyes with cool indolence, and looking up straight into the bronzed, manly face, from which the hat was now raised. "Oh, I recollect! How do you do, sir?

Come, Miss Jerusha; let me help you up the bank."

He stood for a moment transfixed. Had he expected to meet the impulsive little girl he had left? Had he expected this scornful young empress, with her chilling "_who was he?_"

She did not notice his extended hand--_that_ reminded him of the child Georgia--but, taking Miss Jerusha's arm, walked with her up the path, the proud head erect, but the springing step slow and labored.

He watched her a moment, and smiled. That smile would have reminded Georgia of other days had she seen it--a smile that said as plainly as words could speak, "You shall pay for this, my lady! You shall find my power has not pa.s.sed away."

It was a surprise to Georgia, this meeting, and not a pleasant one. She recollected how he had mastered and commanded her in her masterless childhood--a recollection that filled her with angry indignation; a recollection that made her compress her lips, set her foot down hard, and involuntarily clinch the small hand; a recollection that sent a bright, angry light to her black, flas.h.i.+ng eyes, and a hot, irritated spot burning on either cheek; and the dark brows knit as he had often seen them do before as he came resolutely up and stood on the other side of Miss Jerusha.

"And will _you_, too, disown me, Miss Jerusha?" he said, with a look of reproach. "Is Richmond Wildair totally forgotten by all his old friends in Burnfield?"

Miss Jerusha, who had not overheard his conversation with Georgia, faced abruptly round, and looked at him in the utmost surprise.

"Why, bless my heart if it ain't! Wall, railly now! Why, I never!

Georgey, don't you remember the young gent as you used to be so thick 'long of? Wal, now! how do you do? Why, I'm rail glad to see you. I railly am, now!" And Miss Jerusha shook his hand with an _empress.e.m.e.nt_ quite unusual with her in her surprise.

"Thank you, Miss Jerusha. I am glad _all_ my friends have not forgotten me," said Richmond.

Georgia's lip curled slightly, and facing round, she said:

"Miss Jerusha, if you'll excuse me, I'll go on. I want to change this wet dress;" and without waiting for a reply, Georgia hurried on.

"What brings him here?" she said to herself, as she walked quickly toward the cottage. "I suppose he thinks he is to be my lord and master as of yore, that I am still a slave to come at his beck, and because he is rich and I am poor he can command me as much as he pleases. He shall not do it! he shall _not_! I will _never_ forgive him for conquering me," flashed Georgia, clenching her hand involuntarily as she walked.

"And so you've come back! Wall, now, who'd a thought it? Is the square got well and come back, too?"

"My uncle is dead," said the young man, gravely.

"Do tell! Dead, is he? Wall, we've all got to go, some time or another, so there's no good making a fuss. What's going to come of the old place up there?"

"I am going to have it fitted up and improved, and use it for a country-seat."

"Oh--I see! it's your'n, is it? Nice place it is, and worth a good many thousands, I'll be bound! S'pose you'll be getting married shortly, and bringing a wife there to oversee the sarvints, and poultry, and things, eh?" and Miss Jerusha peered at him sharply with her small eyes.

"Really, Miss Jerusha, I don't know," he said, laughingly, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his waving dark hair. "If I could get any one to have me, I might. Do you think I could succeed in that sort of speculation here in Burnfield? The young ladies here know more about looking after poultry than they do in the city."

"Ah! they ain't properly brought up there," said Miss Jerusha, shaking her head; "it's nothin' but boardin' schools, and beaus, and theaters, and other wickednesses there; 'tain't ekil to the country noways. You'll get a wife though, easy enough; young men with lots of money don't find much trouble doing that, either in town or country. How's that nice brother o' your'n?" said Miss Jerusha, suddenly recollecting the youth who had by force possessed himself of so large a share of her affections.

"He is very well, or was when I heard from him last. He has gone abroad to make the grand tour."

"Oh--has he?" said Miss Jerusha, rather mystified, and not quite certain what new patent invention the grand tour was. "Why couldn't he make it at home?" Then, without waiting for an answer, "Won't you come in? do come in; tea's just ready, and you hain't had a chance to speak to Georgey yet, hey? You're most happy. Very well, walk right in and take a cheer. You, Fly!"

"Yes'm, here I is," cried Fly, rus.h.i.+ng in breathlessly, and diving frantically at the oven.

"Where's your young mistress?"

"Up stairs."

"Well, you hurry up and get tea; fly round now, will you? Oh, here comes Georgey. Why, Georgey! don't you know who this is?"

Georgia gave a start of surprise, and her face darkened as she entered and saw him sitting there so much at home.

Pa.s.sing him with a distant courtesy she said, with marked coldness:

"I have that pleasure. Fly, attend to your baking; I'll set the table."

Miss Jerusha was too well accustomed to the varying moods of her ward to be much surprised at this capricious conduct; so she entered into conversation with Richmond, or rather began a racking cross examination as to what he had been doing, where he had been, what he was going to do, and how the last five years had been spent generally.

To all her questions Mr. Wildair replied with the utmost politeness, but--he told her just as much as he chose and no more. From this she learned that he had been studying for the bar, and had been admitted, that his career hitherto had been eminently successful, that his uncle's death had rendered him independent of his profession, but that having a pa.s.sion for that pursuit he was still determined to continue it; that his brother's health remaining delicate, change of scene had been recommended, and that therefore he had gone abroad and was not expected home for a year yet; that a desire to fit up and refurnish the "House,"

as it was called, _par excellence_, in Burnfield, was the sole cause of his leaving Was.h.i.+ngton--where for the past five years he had mostly resided--and finally, that his stay in this flouris.h.i.+ng towns.h.i.+p "depended on circ.u.mstances."

It was late that evening when he went away. Georgia had listened, and, except to Fly, had not spoken half a dozen words, still wrapped in her mantel of proud reserve. She stood at the window when he was gone, looking out at the dark, flowing waves.

"Nice young man," said Miss Jerusha, approvingly, referring to her guest.