Chatterbox, 1906 Part 104

But Jack did not appear to hear. He stood with his back to her, gazing out to sea. Suddenly he turned and came hack, seating himself at her side. His face was very white, but his expression was resolute.

'Missie,' he said, looking full at her, but speaking in a very low voice, 'I am afraid I am going to give you a great shock. You have told me the story of d.i.c.k Peet; I will tell you the story of the man who injured him.'

'Oh, Jack! dear Jack, it is not you! Do say it is not you!' cried Estelle, tears in her eyes.

'I wish I could!' returned Jack, with a heavy sigh, his head clasped in his hands. But, looking up again, he went on: 'Though what you have told me--that d.i.c.k is alive--is a great relief to my mind, after thinking all these years that I had killed him, still I can never forgive myself the frightful outburst of temper that made me do it, nor the bitter consequences--not only to my dear mother, but to poor d.i.c.k himself and his family. Unhappily, we cannot undo the past, though we would gladly give our lives to do it.'

Again Jack's head went down on his hands, and he groaned.

'Dear Jack,' whispered Estelle, putting her hand on his arm to show something of what she felt for him, 'I wish I could recollect all that Aunt Betty said; it would comfort you, I know. But I do remember this: she said we must not let our faults conquer us, for small beginnings made great endings. Perhaps you did not take care of the little things when you were young, and so it ended in that terrible rage. But, dear, dear Jack, ever since that dreadful day, you must have been trying to conquer, or you would never be the good, kind Jack you are now. Why, I have never seen you out of temper the whole time I have been here. I can't see that you have _any_ faults now.'

Jack smiled grimly, but the smile ended in a sigh.

'It is your kind heart that makes you think that, Missie. I have faults enough and to spare, but I hope all this trouble has made a better man of me. For one thing, it has shown me to what lengths my temper would go. I was indeed brought up with a round turn! I nearly went out of my mind. But for my mother I should have gone to the bad straight away.

Though it very nearly did for her, too, she kept up for my sake, and brought me round in time. I ought to have given myself up to justice, but I could not make up my mind to bring disgrace upon her publicly; so, right or wrong, I did not do it. We fled from England, and at Cherbourg I fell in with some of the Tout-Pet.i.t fis.h.i.+ng fleet, and threw in my lot with them. That's how we came here. It will be good news indeed to my dear mother that the result of my rage was not so bad as it might have been, though it has been bad enough.'

'd.i.c.k has forgiven that,' repeated Estelle, earnestly. 'He has indeed, and no one but you, and he, and I know anything about it.'

'Are you sure, Missie? It seems too wonderful to believe! If I thought so--why, I would go and see him when I take you home. It would please him, you say; and--and--well, I would like to ask---- '

'For what, Jack?'

'I would like to hear him say himself that he forgives---- '

He hid his face in his hands and groaned. Ruined for life, but _not dead_. Frightfully, hopelessly injured, but generous, forgiving! He could understand that d.i.c.k--the young handsome d.i.c.k of his recollection--had prayed for his destroyer, and--thank G.o.d--had not prayed in vain. It was, indeed, a deeply repentant, broken-hearted man who sat there in the spring suns.h.i.+ne with bowed head, and bitter sorrow for a deed which could not be undone.

As Estelle looked at Jack's figure, and saw the shudder which now and again pa.s.sed over him, her pity was perhaps greater for this sufferer than it was for poor d.i.c.k. Her eyes were blinded with tears.

'Jack,' she said, when she could command her voice, 'dear kind Jack, you never refuse me anything. Don't say "no" to what I am going to ask you now.'

A murmur was the only reply.

'What I want you to do will not make you more miserable, Jack, and it will be a great kindness to poor d.i.c.k. Give him the pleasure of knowing what a good fellow you are now, and how miserable and sorry you are. He _does_ forgive, you know, and he is so anxious about you, though he cannot speak properly, and tell you as he would if he were well.'

'You are sure he would wish it?'

'I am certain.'

'Missie,' he said, raising his despairing face, 'look at the position I am in. You are but a child, but your kind heart can understand as few older persons seem to do. If I go to see d.i.c.k Peet, I am proclaiming my sin to the world; and who is the sufferer?--my mother! I deserve no mercy, and for my own sake I would not spare myself one grain of shame or misery, for it was a black deed, brutally done in a frenzy of envy.

But Mother--ah! Missie, you don't know what a mother she has been to me.

She has sacrificed her whole life, and does not _think_ it a sacrifice!'

'But if d.i.c.k can and does forgive, Jack,' said Estelle, 'would not Goody be glad that you have it from his own lips? Would she not feel you were better, more the real kind Jack she loves, if you _asked_ for that forgiveness, though d.i.c.k does give it so freely? Oh, Jack, here is your chance of making amends; here is your chance of telling d.i.c.k how grieved your are.'

There was a long silence.

'I'll do it,' said Jack, rousing himself. 'I'll speak to my mother to-night.'

He started up and walked to the cliff, and stood close to the edge, as if he wanted to get as far away from the earth as possible.

Estelle buried her face in her hands, and longed for Aunt Betty, for Goody, for anybody wiser and older than herself. How long she sat, her mind full of hopes and prayers, she did not know. Suddenly she became conscious of some movement near. Looking up, startled, she saw Thomas creeping up to Jack. Jack's back was towards him, and one push would have sent him off the edge of the cliff, into the depths below. She screamed in her terror. Jack turned and faced his enemy.

Thomas did not retreat. He was too desperate. His hopes were dead, and his sole chance was in destroying the man who stood in his path. He flung himself upon Jack, with a confused notion that if he could not hurl him over the cliff, they might both go over together. At any rate, Jack should not get that profit out of the Earl's daughter to which he thought he himself had the sole right. He fought in wild despair, striking out, clinging to Jack's arms and legs, and throwing his weight on him in the mad effort to bear him down, or force him over the precipice. Jack could not understand his insane fury, and tried at first simply to overpower him, in order to hear what he was about, and ask him questions. But Thomas had no intention of being questioned. He wanted to get rid of this man once and for all. If Estelle had not screamed, he would have done it, too. He would pay her out for that, he thought, if he could be the winner in this struggle.

To his dismay, however, he found he was getting decidedly the worst of it. Jack was a giant in strength as well as in height. Finding the man would not listen to reason, he put out his strength, and Thomas soon found himself spinning along the ground at breakneck speed, considerably the worse for the handling he had received. Stunned and bruised, he lay like a log where he fell, and Jack let him lie, after a glance to see he was not much hurt.

Taking Estelle's hand, Jack led her towards the village, but the little girl, upset and shaken as she was by the fierce struggle she had witnessed, looked back once or twice at the prostrate Thomas. Jack appeared excited and angry, but did not speak all the way home.

(_Continued on page 346._)

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He flung himself upon Jack."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Good-bye to Tout-Pet.i.t.]

THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.

(_Continued from page 343._)

CHAPTER XIX.

'Good-bye, dear!' said Mrs. Wright, with tears in her eyes, as Estelle clung to her in a last embrace. 'Perhaps you will come back some day, and see us again.'

'Indeed, dear Goody, I will. You have been good to me! I shall love to think of you and Jack, and everything here, often and often--and of all the kind people I have met. I cannot thank you enough for all you have done. I have been so happy. I shall never forget it.'

'I hope your friends will think you looking bonnie, dear,' went on Mrs.

Wright. 'If they had seen you when Jack brought you here, they would not believe it was the same little missie at all. Now, don't be ill on the voyage, and spoil all the credit due to me.'

Mrs. Wright tried to speak in a lively tone, but the effort ended in tears. The child had been hers so long that the parting was almost as painful as if she were really losing one of her own dear ones. Estelle clung to her, wis.h.i.+ng she could persuade her dear Goody to come home with her, that Aunt Betty might see her and thank her properly. But this was too much to expect. Goody was sure she would sever survive the voyage. Jack also was averse to the idea. He did not want to have two helpless people on his hands, he said, laughingly.

Mrs. Wright accompanied them down to the harbour, and, as they rowed out to the s.h.i.+p, Estelle watched her standing there till distance and tears blotted out the sight.

The wind was fair abaft, and they made good way. Estelle began gradually to like the smooth motion. Her spirits came back as she felt that every knot brought her nearer home and Aunt Betty. Jack had done his best to make her comfortable, but the smack was not a large vessel, and its accommodation was necessarily limited. Nevertheless, all that could be done to make her voyage a pleasant one was done by Jack, Fargis, and the crew. She had the cabin all to herself, and a chair was always ready for her on deck when she chose to occupy it. Usually, however, she preferred to sit near where-ever Jack was, and to talk to him. She would build castles in the air of what would happen when her father returned, and she could tell him all her wishes. He would be quite sure to do all she desired; he never refused any reasonable request, and all her requests were reasonable. Jack smiled. He let her ramble on in her dreams of how they were to meet again, and how he must have a boat of his own, and a comfortable home in England for dear Goody to live in.

Then the talk would revert to other and sadder matters. These were never mentioned except when they were quite alone, which could not be often.

Once or twice, however, they did get such a quiet hour when the night-watches had been set, and it was Jack's turn on duty. Estelle would not go to bed; she preferred to come on deck to talk to him. How often afterwards did she look back upon those nights! Fine, clear moonlight; the sky full of stars, stretched like a dark curtain over them; all around the equally dark water, through which they cut with almost uncanny smoothness; the silence about them broken only by the soft lapping of the waves, and the occasional creak of the spars, or the flap of the sails.

Fargis, who had some knowledge of the coast, made for Tyre-c.u.m-Widcombe, where, he declared, all the information required could be obtained. And so it proved. Jack, leaving Estelle on board, went to the biggest inn in the place. There he had his questions answered, with the additional a.s.surance that he could have any carriage he liked to take the little lady home. The Earl himself was now staying at the Moat House.

As soon as it became generally known that little Lady Estelle de Bohun had been found, and was at that moment aboard the French smack in the harbour, a crowd began rapidly to get together on the little quay. The cheering, the pressing forward to get a glimpse of her, astonished the French crew quite as much as it did Estelle. Neither she nor they had any idea of her importance. They listened with keen interest as Jack translated to them what he had been told of the lost child, and how Lord Lynwood had routed the whole country upside down in his determination not to leave a stone unturned to find her. Jack became a hero to all who knew how he had saved the child; and there were a few who, pressing up to Fargis, made out the story of the rescue from his broken English.

Time, however, was of importance. Jack wanted, if possible, to get back to the boat before nightfall. Fargis would wait for him, in any case, but the matter had best be got over at once. His approaching interview with d.i.c.k Peet weighed upon his mind; other details connected with it must be settled--some decision arrived at. He was glad, therefore, when the carriage came round, and he and Estelle drove away from the amiable, but inquisitive, crowd.

As they pa.s.sed through the deep lanes, and over the wide common, where the gorse was in full bloom, then under the trees of the wood, Estelle's thoughts were with Aunt Betty, whom she was to see so soon; or with d.i.c.k, and the wonderful surprise she was bringing him. Now and then she took a furtive glance at Jack, and wished the happiness of the one did not mean the unhappiness of the other.

On reaching the Bridge House, she begged that they might get out there, instead of driving up to the house. Without a word Jack sprang down, and, lifting her out, paid and dismissed the carriage. Estelle had run forward as he was doing this, but now returned to his side, saying--