Part 8 (1/2)

When they were all standing on the sh.o.r.e, Kate did not think it worth while to ask Master Newcombe how he happened to know where she was. But the young man waited for no questions; he went on to tell his story.

When he related that it was a man fis.h.i.+ng on a pier who had told him that young Mistress Kate Bonnet was stopping with Dame Charter, Kate wondered greatly, for as d.i.c.kory had met Master Newcombe, what need had there been for the latter to ask questions about her of a stranger? But she said nothing. And d.i.c.kory growled in his soul that he had ever spoken to the man on the pier, except to thank him for the rope he had borrowed.

Martin Newcombe's story went on, and he told that, having been extremely angered by the conduct and words of Madam Bonnet, he had gone into the town and made inquiries, hoping to hear something of the whereabouts of Mistress Kate. And, having done so, by means of the very obliging person on the pier, he had determined that the daughter of Major Bonnet should have her rights; and he had gone to his own lawyer, who a.s.sured him that being a person of recognised respectability, possessing property, he was fully authorized, knowing the wishes of Mistress Kate Bonnet, to go to her step-mother and demand that those wishes be complied with; and if this very reasonable request should be denied, then the lawyer would take up the matter himself, and would see to it that reasonable raiment and the necessities of a young lady should not be withheld from her.

With these instructions, Newcombe had gone to Madam Bonnet and had found that much disturbed lady in a state of partial collapse, which had followed her pa.s.sion of the morning, and who had declared that nothing in the world would please her better than to get rid of her husband's daughter and never see her again. And if the creature needed clothes or anything else which belonged to her, a maid should pack them up, and anybody who pleased might take them to any place, provided she heard no more about them or their owner.

In all this she spoke most truthfully, for she hated her step-daughter, both because she was a fine young woman and much regarded by her father, and because she had certain rights to the estate of said father, which his present wife did not wish to recognise, or even to think about. So Martin Newcombe was perfectly welcome to take away such things as would render it unnecessary for the girl to now return to the home in which she had been born. Martin had brought the box, and here he was.

It was not long before Newcombe and the lady of his love were walking away through the little plantation, in order that they might speak by themselves. d.i.c.kory looked after them and frowned, but he bravely comforted himself by thinking that he had been the one into whose arms she had dropped, through the blackness of the night and the blackness of the water, knowing in her heart that he would be there ready for her, and also by the thought that it was his shoes and stockings that she wore. Dame Charter saw this frown on her son's face, but she did not guess the thoughts which were in his mind.

CHAPTER VII

KATE PLANS

It was nearly an hour before Kate and Mr. Newcombe returned, and when they came back they did not look happy. d.i.c.kory observed their sad visages, but the sight did not make him sad. Kate took Dame Charter by the hand and led her to the bench.

”You have been so kind to me,” she said, ”that I have almost come to look upon you as a mother, even though I have known you such a little while, and I want to tell you what I have been talking about, and what I think I am going to do.”

Mr. Newcombe now stood by, and d.i.c.kory also. His mother was not quite sure that this was the right place for him, but as he had already done so much for the young lady, there was, perhaps, no reason why he should be debarred from hearing what she had to say.

”This gentleman,” said Kate, indicating Martin Newcombe, ”sympathizes with me very greatly in my present unfortunate position: having no home to which I can go, and having no relative belonging to this island but my father, who is sailing upon the seas, I know not where; and therefore, in his great kindness, has offered to marry me and to take me to his home, which thereafter would be my home, and in which I should have all comforts and rights.”

Now d.i.c.kory's face was like the sky before a shower. His mother saw it out of the corner of her eye, but the others did not look at him.

”This was very kind and very good,” continued Kate.

”Not at all, not at all,” interrupted Master Newcombe, ”except that it was kind and good to myself; for there is nothing in this world which you need and want as much as I need and want you.”

At this d.i.c.kory's brow grew darker.

”I believe all you say,” said Kate, ”for I am sure you are an honest and a true man, but, as I told you, I cannot marry you; for, even had I made up my mind on the subject, which I have not, I could not marry any one at such a time as this, not knowing my father's will upon the subject or where he is.”

The sun broke out on d.i.c.kory's countenance without a shower; his mother noticed the change.

”But as I must do something,” Kate went on, ”a plan came to me while Mr.

Newcombe was talking to me, and I have been thinking of it ever since, and now, as I speak, I am becoming fully determined in regard to it; that is, if I can carry it out. It often happens,” she said, with a faint smile, ”that when people ask advice they become more and more strengthened in their own opinion. My opinion, and I may say my plan, is this: When my father told me he was going away in his s.h.i.+p, he agreed to take me with him on a little voyage, leaving me with my mother's brother at the island of Jamaica, not far from Spanish Town. In purposing this he thought, no doubt, that it would be far better for me to be with my own blood, if his voyage should be long, rather than to live with one who is no relative of mine, and does not wish to act like one. This, then, being my father's intention, which he was prevented, by reasons which I know not of, from carrying out, I shall carry it out myself with all possible dispatch, and go to my uncle in Jamaica by the earliest vessel which sails from this port. Not only as this is my natural refuge in my trouble, but as my father intended to go there when he thought of having me with him, it may be a part of his plan to go there any way, even though I be not with him; and so I may see him, and all may be well.”

Clouds now settled heavily on the faces of each of the young men, and even the ordinarily bright sky of Dame Charter became somewhat overcast; although, in her heart, she did not believe that anybody in this world could have devised a better plan, under the circ.u.mstances, than this forsaken Mistress Kate Bonnet.

”Now there is my plan,” said Kate, with something of cheerfulness in her voice, ”if it so be I can carry it out. Do either of you know,” glancing at the young men impartially, but apparently not noticing the bad weather, ”if in a reasonable time a vessel will leave here for Jamaica?”

d.i.c.kory knew well, but he would not answer; Kate had no right to put such a thing upon him. Newcombe, however, did not hesitate. ”It is very hard for me to say,” he made reply, ”but there is a merchantman, the King and Queen, which sails from here in three days for Jamaica. I know this, for I send some goods; and I wish, Mistress Bonnet, that I could say something against your sailing in her, but I cannot; for, since you will not let me take care of you, your uncle is surely the best one in the world to do it; and as to the vessel, I know she is a safe one.”

”But you could not go sailing away in any vessel by yourself,” cried Dame Charter, ”no matter how safe she may be.”

”Oh, no!” cried Kate; ”and the more we talk about our plan the more fully it reveals itself to me in all its various parts. I am going to ask you to go with me, my dear Dame Charter,” and as she spoke she seized both of the hands of the other. ”I have funds of my own which are invested in the town, and I can afford the expense. Surely, my good friend, you will not let me go forth alone, and all unused to travel?