CHAPTER III
"ALL ASHORE"
Beth De Graf was a puzzle to all who knew her. She was a puzzle even toherself, and was wont to say, indifferently, that the problem was notworth a solution. For this beautiful girl of fifteen was somewhat bitterand misanthropic, a condition perhaps due to the uncongenial atmospherein which she had been reared. She was of dark complexion and her bigbrown eyes held a sombre and unfathomable expression. Once she hadsecretly studied their reflection in a mirror, and the eyes awed andfrightened her, and made her uneasy. She had analyzed them much as ifthey belonged to someone else, and wondered what lay behind their mask,and what their capabilities might be.
But this morbid condition mostly affected her when she was at home,listening to the unpleasant bickerings of her father and mother, whoquarrelled constantly over trifles that Beth completely ignored. Herparents seemed like two ill tempered animals confined in the same cage,she thought, and their snarls had long since ceased to interest her.
This condition had, of course, been infinitely worse in all thosedreadful years when they were poverty stricken. Since Uncle John hadsettled a comfortable income on his niece the grocer was paid promptlyand Mrs. De Graf wore a silk dress on Sundays and held her chin a littlehigher than any other of the Cloverton ladies dared do. The Professor,no longer harrassed by debts, devoted less time to the drudgery ofteaching and began the composition of an oratorio that he firmlybelieved would render his name famous. So, there being less to quarrelabout, Beth's parents indulged more moderately in that pastime; buttheir natures were discordant, and harmony in the De Graf household wasimpossible.
When away from home Beth's disposition softened. Some of herschool-friends had seen her smile--a wonderful and charming phenomenon,during which her expression grew sweet and bewitchingly animated and herbrown eyes radiant with mirthful light. It was not the same Beth at all.
Sometimes, when the nieces were all at Aunt Jane's, Beth had snuggled inthe arms of her cousin Louise, who had a way of rendering herselfagreeable to all with whom she came in contact, and tried hard to winthe affection of the frankly antagonistic girl. At such times thegentleness of Elizabeth, her almost passionate desire to be loved andfondled, completely transformed her for the moment. Louise, shrewd atreading others, told herself that Beth possessed a reserve force oftenderness, amiability and fond devotion that would render her adorableif she ever allowed those qualities full expression. But she did nottell Beth that. The girl was so accustomed to despise herself and sosuspicious of any creditable impulses that at times unexpectedlyobtruded themselves, that she would have dismissed such a suggestion asarrant flattery, and Louise was clever enough not to wish to arouse hercousin to a full consciousness of her own possibilities.
The trained if not native indifference of this strange girl of fifteenwas demonstrated by her reception of Uncle John's telegram. She quietlyhanded it to her mother and said, as calmly as if it were an invitationto a church picnic:
"I think I shall go."
"Nothing like that ever happened to me," remarked Mrs. De Graf,enviously. "If John Merrick had an atom of common sense he'd have takenme to Europe instead of a troop of stupid school girls. But John alwayswas a fool, and always will be. When will you start, Beth?"
"To-morrow morning. There's nothing to keep me. I'll go to Patsy andstay with her until we sail."
"Are you glad?" asked her mother, looking into the expressionless facehalf curiously.
"Yes," returned Beth, as if considering her reply; "a change is alwaysinteresting, and I have never travelled except to visit Aunt Jane atElmhurst. So I think I am pleased to go to Europe."
Mrs. De Graf sighed. There was little in common between mother anddaughter; but that, to a grave extent, was the woman's fault. She hadnever tried to understand her child's complex nature, and somewhatresented Beth's youth and good looks, which she considered contrastedunfavorably with her own deepening wrinkles and graying hair. For Mrs.De Graf was vain and self-important, and still thought herselfattractive and even girlish. It would really be a relief to have Bethout of the way for a few months.
The girl packed her own trunk and arranged for it to be taken to thestation. In the morning she entered the music room to bid the Professorgood-bye. He frowned at the interruption, for the oratorio wasespecially engrossing at the time. Mrs. De Graf kissed her daughterlightly upon the lips and said in a perfunctory way that she hoped Bethwould have a good time.
The girl had no thought of resenting the lack of affection displayed byher parents. It was what she had always been accustomed to, and she hadno reason to expect anything different.
Patsy met her at the train in New York and embraced her rapturously.Patsy was really fond of Beth; but it was her nature to be fond ofeveryone, and her cousin, escaping from her smacking and enthusiastickisses, told herself that Patsy would have embraced a cat with the samespontaneous ecstacy. That was not strictly true, but there was nothinghalf hearted or halfway about Miss Doyle. If she loved you, there wouldnever be an occasion for you to doubt the fact. It was Patsy's way.
Uncle John also was cordial in his greetings. He was very proud of hispretty niece, and discerning enough to realize there was a broad strataof womanliness somewhere in Elizabeth's undemonstrative character. Hehad promised himself to "dig it out" some day, and perhaps the Europeantrip would give him his opportunity.
Patsy and Elizabeth shopped for the next few days most strenuously anddelightfully. Sometimes their dainty cousin Louise joined them, and thethree girls canvassed gravely their requirements for a trip that was asnew to them as a flight to the moon. Naturally, they bought much thatwas unnecessary and forgot many things that would have been useful. Youhave to go twice to Europe to know what to take along.
Louise needed less than the others, for her wardrobe was more extensiveand she already possessed all that a young girl could possibly make useof. This niece, the eldest of Uncle John's trio, was vastly moreexperienced in the ways of the world than the others, although as atraveller she had no advantage of them. Urged thereto by her worldlymother, she led a sort of trivial, butterfly existence, and hercharacter was decidedly superficial to any close observer. Indeed, hervery suavity and sweetness of manner was assumed, because it was so muchmore comfortable and effective to be agreeable than otherwise. She wasnow past seventeen years of age, tall and well formed, with a delicateand attractive face which, without being beautiful, was consideredpleasant and winning. Her eyes were good, though a bit too shrewd, andher light brown hair was fluffy as spun silk. Graceful of carriage,gracious of manner, yet affecting a languor unsuited to her years,Louise Merrick was a girl calculated to draw from the passing throngglances of admiration and approval, and to convey the impression of goodbreeding and feminine cleverness.
All this, however, was outward. Neither Patsy nor Beth displayed anyundue affection for their cousin, although all of the girls exhibited afair amount of cousinly friendship for one another. They had once beenthrown together under trying circumstances, when various qualities oftemperament not altogether admirable were liable to assert themselves.Those events were too recent to be already forgotten, yet the girls weregenerous enough to be considerate of each others' failings, and hadresolved to entertain no sentiment other than good will on the eve oftheir departure for such a charming outing as Uncle John had planned forthem.
Mr. Merrick being a man, saw nothing radically wrong in the dispositionsof any of his nieces. Their youth and girlishness appealed to himstrongly, and he loved to have them by his side. It is true that hesecretly regretted Louise was not more genuine, that Beth was socynical and frank, and that Patsy was not more diplomatic. But hereflected that he had had no hand in molding their characters, althoughhe might be instrumental in improving them; so he accepted the girls asthey were, thankful that their faults were not glaring, and happy tohave found three such interesting nieces to cheer his old age.
At last the preparations were complete. Tuesday arrived, and Uncle John"corralled his females,"
as he expressed it, and delivered them safelyon board the staunch and comfortable ocean greyhound known as the"Princess Irene," together with their bags and baggage, their flowersand fruits and candy boxes and all those other useless accessories to avoyage so eagerly thrust upon the departing travellers by theiraffectionate but ill-advised friends.
Mrs. Merrick undertook the exertion of going to Hoboken to see herdaughter off, and whispered in the ear of Louise many worldlyadmonitions and such bits of practical advice as she could call to mindon the spur of the moment.
Major Gregory Doyle was there, pompous and straight of form and wearingan assumed smile that was meant to assure Patsy he was delighted at hergoing, but which had the effect of scaring the girl because she at firstthought the dreadful expression was due to convulsions.
The Major had no admonitions for Patsy, but she had plenty for him, andgave him a long list of directions that would, as he said, cause him to"walk mighty sthraight" if by good luck he managed to remember them all.
Having made up his mind to let the child go to Europe, the old fellowallowed no wails or bemoanings to reach Patsy's ears to deprive her of amoment's joyful anticipation of the delights in store for her. Helaughed and joked perpetually during that last day, and promised thegirl that he would take a vacation while she was gone and visit his oldcolonel in Virginia, which she knew was the rarest pleasure he couldenjoy. And now he stood upon the deck amusing them all with his quaintsayings and appearing so outwardly jolly and unaffected that only Patsyherself suspected the deep grief that was gripping his kindly oldheart.
Uncle John guessed, perhaps, for he hugged the Major in a tight embrace,whispering that Patsy should be now, as ever, the apple of his eye andthe subject of his most loving care.
"An' don't be forgetting to bring me the meerschaum pipe from Sicily an'the leathern pocket-book from Florence," the Major said to Patsy,impressively. "It's little enough for ye to remember if ye go that way,an' to tell the truth I'm sending ye abroad just for to get them. An'don't be gettin' off the boat till it stops at a station; an' rememberthat Uncle John is full of rheumatics an' can't walk more n' thirty milean hour, an'--"
"It's a slander," said Uncle John, stoutly. "I never had rheumatics inmy life."
"Major," observed Patsy, her blue eyes full of tears but her lips tryingto smile, "do have the tailor sponge your vest every Saturday. It's fullof spots even now, and I've been too busy lately to look after youproperly. You're--you're--just disgraceful, Major!"
"All ashore!" called a loud voice.
The Major gathered Patsy into an embrace that threatened to crush her,and then tossed her into Uncle John's arms and hurried away. Mrs.Merrick followed, with good wishes for all for a pleasant journey; andthen the four voyagers pressed to the rail and waved their handkerchiefsfrantically to those upon the dock while the band played vociferouslyand the sailors ran here and there in sudden excitement and the greatship left her moorings and moved with proud deliberation down the bay tobegin her long voyage to Gibraltar and the blue waters of theMediterranean.