It was quite an imposing procession that left Tanglewood that morning. There were two carriages and a van. In the first carriage rode Lord and Lady Vincent and Judge Merlin. In the second my lord's valet and my lady's three servants. And in the van was piled an inconceivable amount of luggage.
This procession made a sensation, I assure you, as it lumbered along the rough country roads. Every little isolated cabin along the way turned out its ragged rout of girls and boys who threw up their arms with a prolonged "Hooray!" as it passed—to the great disgust of the Englishman and the transient amusement of the judge. As for Claudia, she sat back with her eyes closed and cared for nothing.
The negroes came in for their share of notice.
"Hooray, Aunt Katie, is that you a-ridin' in a coach as bold as brass?" some wayside laborer would shout.
"As bold as brass yourself!" would be the irate retort of the old woman, nodding her head that was adorned with a red and yellow bonnet, from the window.
"Hillo, Jim! that's never you, going to forring parts as large as life?" would sing out another.
"Yes! Good-by! God bless you all as is left behind!" would be Jim's compassionate reply.
"Lord bless my soul and body, what a barbarous country!" would be
Lord Vincent's muttered comment. And the judge would smile and
Claudia slumber, or seem to do so.
And this happened over and over again all along the turnpike road, until they got to Shelton, where they embarked on the steamer "Arrow" for Baltimore, where they arrived the next day at noon.
They made no stay in the Monumental City. Old Katie's dilated eyes had not time to relieve themselves by one wink over the wonders of the new world into which she was introduced, before, to her "surprise and 'stonishment," as she afterwards expressed it, she found herself "on board the cars, being whisked off somewhere else. And if you would believe her racket, she had to hold the h'ar on her head to keep it from being streamed off in the flight. And she was no sooner set down comfortable in the cars at Baltimore than she had to get up and get outen them at New York. And you better had believe it, chillun, that's all."
Old Aunt Katie must have slept all the way through that night's journey; for it is certain that the cars in which she traveled left Baltimore at eight o'clock in the evening and arrived at New York at six o'clock the next morning.
After their dusty, smoky, cindery ride of ten hours our party had barely time to find their hotel, cleanse and refresh themselves with warm baths and changes of raiment and get their breakfasts comfortably, before the hour of embarkation arrived. For they were required to be on board their steamer at ten o'clock, as she was announced to sail at twelve, meridian.
At ten, therefore, the carriages that had been ordered for the purpose of conveying them to the pier were announced.
Lower and lower sank the heart of the widowed father as the moment approached that was to separate him from his only child. There were times when he so dreaded that moment as to wish for death instead. There were times when he felt that the wrench which should finally tear his daughter from him must certainly prove his death-blow. Yet, for her sake, he bore himself with composure and dignity. He would not let her see the anguish that was oppressing his heart.
He entered the carriage with her and drove to the pier. He drew her arm within his own, keeping her hand pressed against his aching heart, and so he led her up the gang-plank on board the steamer, Lord Vincent and their retinue following. He would not trust himself to utter any serious words; but he led her to find her stateroom, that he might see for himself she would be comfortable on her voyage, and that he might carry away with him a picture of her and her surroundings in his memory. And then he brought her up on deck and found a pleasant seat for her, and sat down beside her, keeping her arm within his and her hand pressed as a balm to his covered bleeding heart.
There he sat, speaking but little, while active preparations were made for sailing. It looked to him like preparations for an execution.
Lord Vincent walked up and down the deck, occasionally stopping to exchange a word with Claudia, or the judge.
At length the signal-bell rang out, every peal striking like a death-toll on the heart of the old man.
And the order was shouted forth:
"All hands ashore!"
The moment of life and death had come. He started up; he strained his daughter to his breast. He gasped:
"God bless you, my dear! Write as soon as you land!"
He wrung the hand of Lord Vincent. "Be good to—" He choked, and hurried from the steamer.
He stood alone on the pier gazing at the receding ship, and at his daughter, who was leaning over the bulwarks, waving her handkerchief. Swiftly, swiftly, receded the ship from his strained sight. First his daughter's face faded from his aching vision; but still he could see the outline of her form. A minute or two and even that grew indistinct and was lost among the rigging. And while he was still straining his eyes to the cracking, in the effort to see her, the signal gun from the steamer was fired. The farewell gun! The ball seemed to strike his own heart. All his strength forsook him; his well-strung nerves suddenly relaxed; his limbs gave way beneath him, and he must have fallen but for the strong arms that suddenly clasped him and the warm bosom that firmly supported him.
Turning up his languid, fainting eyes, he saw—
"Ishmael!"
Yes, it was Ishmael, who with a son's devotion was standing there and sustaining Claudia's forsaken father in the hour of his utter weakness and utmost need.
At first the judge looked at him in surprise and incredulity, which soon, however, gave way before recognition and affection, as he rested on that true breast and met those beautiful eyes bent on him in deepest sympathy.
"Oh, Ishmael, Ishmael, is it you? is it indeed you? You here at need? Oh, my son, my son, would to the Lord that you were indeed my son! It is a grief and folly that you are not!" he exclaimed with emotion.
What could Ishmael reply to these words? Nothing. He could only tenderly support the old man and turn to a gray-haired servant that waited behind him and say:
"Professor, go call a carriage here quickly!"
And Jim Morris started on his errand, with all the crippled alacrity of age and zeal.
"Oh, Ishmael, she has gone! she has gone! My daughter has left me!" he groaned, grasping the hand of his young supporter.
"I know it, sir, I know it. But this hour of parting is the bitterest of all. The heart feels the wrench of separation keenly now."
"Oh, yes, yes!"
"But every coming hour will bring relief. You will cease to look back to the bitter parting, and you will look forward to the happy meeting. And that meeting may be as soon as you please, sir, you know. There is nothing on earth to prevent or even delay your visit to Lady Vincent as soon after she gets settled at home, as you like. This is October. You may spend Christmas with her, you know."
"That is true; that is very true, and Christmas is not so very far off. Ah! I ought not to have given way so, and I should not have done it, only I was quite alone when they sailed. There was no one with me to suggest these comforting thoughts, and I was too much prostrated by the wrench of parting to remember them of myself. Oh, Ishmael! what Providence was it that sent you to my side in this extremity?" inquired the judge, curiosity mingling with his interest in the question.
"I came here," said Ishmael frankly, "with no other purpose than to be with you in your hour of trial. I knew that you would require the presence of some friend."
"Ah, Ishmael! it was just like you to drop all your business and come uncalled, traveling from Washington to New York, with the sole object of sustaining an old friend in the hour of his weakness. So that does not surprise me. But how did you hit the