CHAPTER I
'SWEETER
THAN BLUE-EYED VIOLETS OR THE DAMASK ROSE'That Bella Waldron should have
felt sad, and her night's rest have been disturbed in consequence,
was, in the circumstances, most natural. For one cannot suppose that
any young girl leaves her home, her mother, and her country without
much grief and perturbation; without tears and sorrow and heavy
sighs, as well as tremendous fears that she may never return to, nor
see, them again. And such is what Bella was about to do when this
particular night should have come to an end: she was about to
traverse not one ocean, but two; to pass from a life that, if not
luxurious, was at least comfortable, to another which, if more
brilliant, would undoubtedly be strange, and, consequently, not
easily to be adopted at first. In fact, to go from one side of the
world to the other.Yet, all the same, it was
singular that, between her intervals of weeping and sobbing, and when
she had at last cried herself to sleep, she should have been
tormented with such frightful dreams as those which came to her.
Dreams of horrors that in their weirdness became almost ludicrous, or
would have been ludicrous to those who, knowing of them, did not
happen to be experiencing them. Thus, the idea of a crocodile
regarding one with a glittering eye from its ambush in the sand,
seems for some reason, in our waking moments, to conjure up a comical
sense of terror--perhaps because of the 'glittering eye'; yet there
was nothing comical about it to the mind of Bella as she awoke with a
shriek from her sleep after the vision of the creature had had
momentary existence in the cells of her brain. And, even when she was
thoroughly awakened and knew that she had only been suffering from a
bad dream, she still shuddered at the recollection, and muttered, 'It
appeared as if it was creeping towards me to seize me with its horrid
jaws! Oh, it was dreadful!'Then she slept again--only,
however, to dream of other things. Of a desolate shore at first,
with, upon it, a misty creature waving its hands mournfully above its
head, those hands being enveloped in some gauzy material, so that the
figure appeared more like a skirt-dancer than aught else; then, of
two lions fighting savagely; and then of a vast black cave with an
opening as high as St. Paul's and as wide as a railway terminus is
long, against which, armed with a spear and protected with a buckler,
she seemed to stand trembling. Trembling, too, because she could not
see one yard into the deep and profound darkness before her, yet into
which, as she peered furtively and with horror, she appeared to
perceive things--forms half-animal and half-human--crawling,
revolving, creeping about. Then, again, she awoke with a start.But by now the room was light
with the gray, mournful glimmer of the approaching dawn; so light
that she could see her wicker-basket trunks in their American-cloth
wrappers standing by the wall, with the lids open against it; soon,
too, she heard the sparrows twittering outside, as well as other
congenial suburban sounds, such as the newspaper boys shrieking
hideously to one another, and the milkman uttering piercing yells;
and--though it was her last day in England--she was glad to spring
out of bed and know herself once more a unit in the actual world
instead of a wanderer in a world of dreams.'I wish,' the girl muttered to
herself, standing by the window and drawing up the blind half-way,
whereby she was enabled to see that the gray dawn of a May morning
gave promise of a warm, fine day later on, 'that, if I were to have
such bad dreams at all, I might have been spared them on the very day
of my departure for the other side of the globe. I am not
superstitious, yet, yet--well!--I shall think of this dream, I know,
for many a day to come.' Then she slipped on her dressing-gown,
thrust her pretty little white feet into some warm, felt
bath-slippers, and, opening her door quietly, because it was still
early and she did not wish to awaken those in the house who might be
asleep, she went across the passage to her mother's room.Yet, ere she did so, let us
regard this young girl, whose story and adventures we are now to
follow--this girl whose dreams of leering crocodiles and dark, mystic
caves, with hideous creatures gyrating in them, will, as we shall
see, be far outnumbered and outshone by the actual realities that she
will experience in her passage across the world. For it had been
resolved on by Fate, or Providence, or Destiny, or whatever one may
term that power which controls our earthly existence, that to Bella
Waldron were to come experiences, strange, horrible, and fantastic,
such as the last decade of our expiring century rarely assaults men
with, and women hardly ever. Standing there in the now clear light of
the morning, her long dressing-gown enshrouding her tall, shapely,
and svelte
figure, and with her masses of hair hanging dishevelled--hair a warm
brown with golden gleams in it, such as has the ripening corn--an
observer would decide at once that she was beautiful. Beautiful,
also, by the gift of clear, hazel-gray eyes--eyes that were pure and
innocent in their glance; beautiful as well by her softly-rounded
face, her rich red lips--the upper one divinely short--and also by
her colouring. If, too, one applies to her the lines of that old poet
dead and gone two hundred years ago, the words describing Gloriana:--More
fair than the red morning's dawn,Sweeter
than pearly dews that scent the lawn,Than
blue-eyed violets, or the damask roseWhen
in her hottest fragrancy she glows,Bella
Waldron may be considered as depicted.'Mother,' she said, going in
now to the room where the poor lady whom she addressed had herself
passed a sad and tearful night, bemoaning the fact that soon--in a
few hours--indeed now--because the fateful day had come--her child
was to be torn from her. 'Oh, mother! It is to-day--to-day! Oh, my
darling! how can I part from you?' And then, folding her mother in
her arms while she sat on the bedside, the two women wept together.'Yet,' said Mrs. Waldron, to
whom advancing years brought the power of philosophic resignation, if
not the thorough strength to overcome that which rendered her
unhappy, 'yet, Bella, my dearest, it is so much for you. Such a
position, such a future! Oh, think of it! A position you could
scarcely ever have hoped to obtain. And the love, my child, the love!
Think how Gilbert loves you and you love him. For you do love him,
Bella. Of all men, he is the one for you.''With my whole heart and soul
I love him!' her daughter answered. 'Mother, if I had never met him I
do not believe I could have ever loved any other man. Ah, I am glad
Juliet called Romeo the god of her idolatry! It has taught me how to
think of Gilbert.''And the position, Bella. The
position--think of that! In our circumstances, even though you come
of a good stock and are descended from ladies and gentlemen on both
sides from far-off years, you could never have hoped to make such a
match.''The position is nothing to
me, mother. I love Gilbert fondly. I long to be his wife. Why should
I think of the position?''Every woman must think of it,
child. When you are as old--and worn--as I am, you--you will teach
your own children to think of it. It is everything to be the wife of
a gentleman, better still the wife of a man of rank. Everything!
Short of being the wife of a distinguished man, a man whose name is
on everybody's tongue, there is no other position so good. And, even
then, that distinguished man may not be a gentleman as well. That
would be dreadful. Yet your husband will be both. Think, Bella! He is
sure to become a nobleman, and he may become the most renowned
admiral in the Navy.''You dear old mother! But I
love Gilbert because he is Gilbert. Otherwise, neither the nobility
which is certain, nor the renown which is prospective, would take me
across the world to him. Do you think I would go to Bombay to marry
the heir to a title or a possible admiral if I did not love him?''Heaven forbid!' Mrs. Waldron
replied, as she sat up in her bed and smoothed her hair. 'Heaven
forbid! Yet,' she murmured, perhaps a little weakly for a lady who
had just delivered herself of such admirable sentiments, 'yet I do
honestly think, darling, that the love you bear each other--yes!
above all, the love--and the position--I must think of the position,
Bella!--and the certainty of a brilliant future for you, reconcile me
a little to parting with you. Some day, when you are a mother, you
will understand me.''I understand you now,
darling. Yet, yet--ah!' and now she sobbed on her mother's
shoulder--'yet, to think of our being parted for so long--for three
years! Gilbert must remain on the station for that length of time.'
Now it is certain that Mrs. Waldron was sobbing too, yet, because
there was something of the Spartan mother, something, too, of
Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, about her, she calmed her sobs. For
she, too, had been ruthlessly torn by an all-conquering lover, who
would take no denial, from her parents, arms. Yet that lover had had
no such proud future to offer her as the Gilbert of whom they spoke
had to offer his beloved Arabella; for her there had been nothing to
flavour her existence except the glorious spice tasted by us all--of
loving and being loved. And now--now that she was what she called
old--which was not the case, since she was still short of her
forty-fifth year--now she knew--and, knowing, said--that love
accompanied by brilliant prospects and an assured future was the most
satisfactory of all loves.'Your father,' Mrs. Waldron
said, 'remained on his station, the Pacific, for seven years, and we
were separated all that time. He there, I here, in London. And in
lodgings, Bella--oh those lodgings and that cooking!--you remember,
darling? You must remember the lodgings and the cooking, child though
you were. And he was not a future peer, though he did once think he
might become an admiral.''Forgive me, mother,' Bella
said, kissing her mother again and again. 'I will not repine any
more. I ought not to do so, I know. For is not my Gilbert the
handsomest, bravest sailor that ever wore the Queen's uniform? And it
won't be so long after all. Only--only--I do wish there wasn't that
awful journey. Oh if there were only a bridge!' and for the first
time she smiled. 'Or a railway,' she added.'I am sure, Bella,' her mother
said, forgetting how she would feel that evening when her child was
gone, and neither the bright voice nor brisk footsteps would be heard
any more in the house, 'I am sure you cannot complain of the manner
in which you are going out. The vessel may not be as comfortable as
they say the great liners are, but at least your uncle is the
captain, and it is his own ship. And that cabin he showed us
yesterday, when we went down to Gravesend, is far better than
anything you could get in any liner, even the best. I had one once,
when I went out to join your father at Halifax, in which there was
nowhere but the pockets of my clothes to keep things in, while the
other lady above me could open the scuttle as she lay in her berth.
And your cabin is as big as a dining-room, with a sofa----''You dear, darling mother!'
Bella exclaimed. 'You are an angel to comfort me thus, when I know
all the time that your heart is as sad as mine. Oh if we had not to
part!' And again the two women hugged and kissed each other.