CHAPTER I.
DON JOHN OF BELFAST, AND FRIENDS.
"Why, Don John, how you frightened me!" exclaimed Miss NelliePatterdale, as she sprang up from her reclining position in alolling-chair.
It was an intensely warm day near the close of June, and the young ladyhad chosen the coolest and shadiest place she could find on the piazzaof her father's elegant mansion in Belfast. She was as pretty as she wasbright and vivacious, and was a general favorite among the pupils of theHigh School, which she attended. She was deeply absorbed in the readingof a story in one of the July magazines, which had just come from thepost-office, when she heard a step near her. The sound startled her, itwas so near; and, looking up, she discovered the young man whom she hadspoken to close beside her. He was not Don John of Austria, but DonaldJohn Ramsay of Belfast, who had been addressed by his companions simplyas Don, a natural abbreviation of his first name, until he of Austriahappened to be mentioned in the history recitation in school, when thewhole class looked at Don, and smiled; some of the girls even giggled,and got a check for it; but the republican young gentleman became atitular Spanish hidalgo from that moment. Though he was the son of aboat-builder, by trade a ship carpenter, he was a good-looking, andgentlemanly fellow, and was treated with kindness and consideration bymost of the sons and daughters of the wealthy men of Belfast, whoattended the High School. It was hardly a secret that Don John regardedMiss Nellie with especial admiration, or that, while he was polite toall the young ladies, he was particularly so to her. It is a fact, too,that he blushed when she turned her startled gaze upon him on thepiazza; and it is just as true that Miss Nellie colored deeply, thoughit may have been only the natural consequence of her surprise.
"I beg your pardon, Nellie; I did not mean to frighten you," repliedDonald.
"I don't suppose you did, Don John; but you startled me just as much asthough you had meant it," added she, with a pleasant smile, so forgivingthat the young man had no fear of the consequences. "How terribly hot itis! I am almost melted."
"It is very warm," answered Donald, who, somehow or other, found it verydifficult to carry on a conversation with Nellie; and his eyes seemed tohim to be twice as serviceable as his tongue.
"It is dreadful warm."
And so they went on repeating the same thing over and over again, tillthere was no other known form of expression for warm weather.
"How in the world did you get to the side of my chair without my hearingyou?" demanded Nellie, when it was evidently impossible to say anythingmore about the heat.
"I came up the front steps, and was walking around on the piazza to yourfather's library. I didn't see you till you spoke," replied Donald,reminded by this explanation that he had come to Captain Patterdale'shouse for a purpose. "Is Ned at home?"
"No; he has gone up to Searsport to stay over Sunday with uncle Henry."
"Has he? I'm sorry. Is your father at home?"
"He is in his library, and there is some one with him. Won't you sitdown, Don John?"
"Thank you," added Donald, seating himself in a rustic chair. "It isvery warm this afternoon."
Nellie actually laughed, for she was conscious of the difficulties ofthe situation--more so than her visitor. But we must do our hero--forsuch he is--the justice to say, that he did not refer to the exhaustedtopic with the intention of confining the conversation to it, but tointroduce the business which had called him to the house.
"It is intensely hot, Don John," laughed Nellie.
"But I was going to ask you if you would not like to take a sail," saidDonald, with a blush. "With your father, I mean," added he, with adeeper blush, as he realized that he had actually asked a girl to goout in a boat with him.
"I should be delighted to go, but I can't. Mother won't let me go on thewater when the sun is out, it hurts my eyes so," answered Nellie; andthe young man was sure she was very sorry she could not go.
"Perhaps we can go after sunset, then," suggested Donald. "I am sorryNed is not at home; for his yacht is finished, and father says the paintis dry enough to use her. We are going to have a little trial trip inher over to Turtle Head, and, perhaps, round by Searsport."
"Is the Sea Foam really done?" asked Nellie, her eyes sparkling withdelight.
"Yes, she is all ready, and father will deliver her to Ned on Monday, ifeverything works right about her. I thought some of your folks,especially Ned, would like to be in her on the first trip."
"I should, for one; but I suppose it is no use for me to think of it. Myeyes are ever so much better, and I hope I shall be able to sail in theSea Foam soon."
"I hope so, too. We expect she will beat the Skylark; father thinks shewill."
"I don't care whether she does or not," laughed Nellie.
"Do you think I could see your father just a moment?" asked Donald. "Ionly want to know whether or not he will go with us."
"I think so; I will go and speak to him. Come in, Don John," repliedNellie, rising from her lolling-chair, and walking around the corner ofthe house to the front door.
Donald followed her. The elegant mansion was located on a corner lot,with a broad hall through the centre of it, on one side of which was thelarge drawing-room, and on the other the sitting and dining-rooms. Atthe end of the great hall was a door opening into the library, a largeapartment, which occupied the whole of a one-story addition to theoriginal structure. It had also an independent outside door, whichopened upon the piazza; and opposite to it was a flight of steps, downto the gravel walk terminating at a gate on the cross street. People whocame to see Captain Patterdale on business could enter at this gate, andgo to the library without passing through the house. On the presentoccasion, a horse and wagon stood at the gate, which indicated to MissNellie that her father was engaged. This team had stood there for anhour, and Donald had watched it for half that time, waiting for theowner to leave, though he was not at all anxious to terminate theinterview with his fair schoolmate.
Nellie knocked at the library door, and her father told her to come in.She passed in, while Donald waited the pleasure of the rich man in thehall.
He was invited to enter. Captain Patterdale was evidently bored by hisvisitor, and gave the young man a cordial greeting. Donald stated hisbusiness very briefly; but the captain did not say whether he would orwould not go upon the trial trip of the Sea Foam. He asked a hundredquestions about the new yacht, and it was plain that he did not care toresume the conversation with his visitor, who walked nervously about theroom, apparently vexed at the interruption, and dissatisfied thus farwith the result of his interview with the captain.
What would have appeared to be true to an observer was actually so. Thevisitor was one Jacob Hasbrook, from a neighboring town, and hisreputation for honesty and fair dealings was not the best in the world.Captain Patterdale held his note, without security, for thirteen hundredand fifty dollars. Hasbrook had property, but his creditors were neversure of him till they were paid. At the present interview he hadastonished Captain Patterdale by paying the note in full, with interest,on the day it became due. But it was soon clear enough to the rich manthat the payment was only a "blind" to induce him to embark in adoubtful speculation with Hasbrook. The nature and immense profits ofthe enterprise had been eloquently set forth by the visitor, and his owncapacity to manage it enlarged upon; but the nabob, who had made hisfortune by hard work, was utterly wanting in enthusiasm. He had receivedthe money in payment of his note, which he had expected to lose, or toobtain only after resorting to legal measures, and he was fullydetermined to have nothing more to do with the man. He had said all thisas mildly as he could; but Hasbrook was persistent, and probably feltthat in paying an honest debt he had thrown away thirteen hundred andfifty dollars.
He would not go, though Captain Patterdale gave him sufficient excusefor doing so, or even for cutting his acquaintance. The rich mancontinued to talk with Don John, to the intense disgust of thespeculator, who stood looking at a tin box, painted green, which lay ona chair. Perhaps he looked u
pon this box as the grave of his hopes; forit contained the money he had just paid to the captain--the wastedmoney, because the rich man would not embark with him in his brilliantenterprise, though he had taken so much pains, and parted with so muchmoney, to prove that he was an honest man. He appeared to be interestedin the box, and he looked at it all the time, with only an impatientglance occasionally at the nabob, who appeared to be trifling with hisbright hopes. The tin chest was about nine inches each way, andcontained the private papers and other valuables of the rich man,including, now, the thirteen hundred and fifty dollars just received.
Captain Patterdale was president of the Twenty-first National Bank ofBelfast, which was located a short distance from his house. The tin boxwas kept in the vaults of the bank; but the owner had taken it home toexamine some documents at his leisure, intending to return it to thebank before night. As it was in the library when Mr. Hasbrook called,the money was deposited in it for safe keeping over night.
"I'm afraid I can't go with you, Donald," said Captain Patterdale, afterhe had asked him all the questions he could think of about the Sea Foam.
"I am sorry, sir; for Miss Nellie wanted to go, and I was going to askfather to wait till after sunset on her account," added the young man.
Mr. Hasbrook began to look hopeful; for the last remark of the nabobindicated a possible termination of the conversation. Donald began hisretreat toward the hall of the mansion, for he wanted to see the fairdaughter again; but he had not reached the door before the captaincalled him back.
"I suppose your father wants some more money to-night," said he, feelingin his pocket for the key to open the tin box.
"He didn't say anything to me about it, sir," replied Donald; "I don'tthink he does."
Hasbrook looked hopeless again; for Captain Patterdale began tocalculate how much he had paid, and how much more he was to pay, for theyacht. While he was doing so, there was a knock at the street door,and, upon being invited to do so, Mr. Laud Cavendish entered the librarywith a bill in his hand.
Mr. Laud Cavendish was a great man in his own estimation, and a greatswell in the estimation of everybody else. He was a clerk or salesman ina store; but he was dressed very elegantly for a provincial city likeBelfast, and for a "counter-jumper" on six or eight dollars a week. Hewas about eighteen years old, tall, and rather slender. His upper lipwas adorned with an incipient mustache, which had been tenderly coaxedand colored for two years, without producing any prodigious result,though it was the pride and glory of the owner. Mr. Cavendish was adreamy young gentleman, who believed that the Fates had made a badmistake in his case, inasmuch as he was the son of an honest andindustrious carpenter, instead of the son and heir of one of the nabobsof Belfast. He believed that he was fitted to adorn the highest circlein society, to shine among the aristocracy of the city, and it was acruel shame that he should be compelled to work in a store, weigh outtea and sugar, carry goods to the elegant mansions where he ought to beadmitted at the front, instead of the back, door, collect bills, andperform whatever other service might be required of him. The Fates hadblundered and conspired against him; but he was not without hope thatthe daughter of some rich man, who might fall in love with him and hismustache, would redeem him from his slavery to an occupation he hated,and lift him up to the sphere where he belonged. Laud was "soaring afterthe infinite," and so he rather neglected the mundane and practical, andhis employer did not consider him a very desirable clerk.
Mr. Laud Cavendish came with a bill in his hand, the footing of whichwas the sum due his employer for certain necessary articles justdelivered at the kitchen door of the elegant mansion. Captain Patterdaleopened the tin box, and took therefrom some twenty dollars to pay thebill, which Laud receipted. Mr. Hasbrook hoped he would go, and that DonJohn would go; and perhaps they would have gone if a rather excitingevent had not occurred to detain them.
"Father! father!" exclaimed Miss Nellie, rushing into the library.
"What's the matter, Nellie?" demanded her father, calmly; for he hadlong been a sea captain, and was used to emergencies.
"Michael has just dropped down in a fit!" gasped Nellie.
"Where is he?"
"In the yard."
Captain Patterdale, followed by his three visitors, rushed through thehall, out at the front door, near which the unfortunate man had fallen,and, with the assistance of his companions, lifted him from the ground.Michael was the hired man who took care of the horses, and kept thegrounds around the elegant mansion in order. He was raking the gravelwalk near the piazza where Nellie was laboring to keep cool. As we havehinted before, and as Nellie and Don John had several times repeated,the day was intensely hot. The sun where the man worked was absolutelyscorching, and the hired man had experienced a sun-stroke. CaptainPatterdale and his visitors bore him to his room in the L, and Don Johnran for the doctor, who appeared in less than ten minutes. The visitorsall did what they could, Mr. Laud Cavendish behaving very well.Michael's wife and other friends soon arrived, and there was nothingmore for Laud to do. He went down stairs, and, finding Nellie in thehall, he tried to comfort her; for she was very much concerned for poorMichael.
"Do you think he will die, Mr. Cavendish?" asked she, almost as muchmoved as though the poor man had been her father.
"O, no! I think he will recover. These Irishmen have thick heads, andthey don't die so easily of sun-stroke; for that's what the doctor saysit is," replied Laud, knowingly.
Nellie thought, if this was a true view of _coup de soleil_, Laud wouldnever die of it. She thought this; but she was not so impolite as to sayit. She asked him no more questions; for she saw Don John approachingthrough the dining-room.
"Good afternoon, Miss Patterdale," said Laud, with a bow and a flourish,as he retired towards the library, where he had left his hat.
In a few moments more, the rattle of the wagon, with which he deliveredgoods to the customers, was heard as he drove off. Don John came intothe hall, and Nellie asked him ever so many questions about thecondition of Michael, and what the doctor said about him; all of whichthe young man answered to the best of his ability.
"Do you think he will die, Don John?" she asked.
"I am sure I can't tell," replied Donald; "I hope not."
"Michael is real good, and I am so sorry for him!" added Nellie.
But Michael is hardly a personage in our story, and we do not purpose toenter into the diagnosis of his case. He has our sympathies on the meritof his sufferings alone, and quite as much for Nellie's sake; for it wastender, and gentle, and kind in her to feel so much for a poor Irishlaborer. While she and Donald were talking about the case, Mr. Hasbrookcame down stairs, and passed through the hall into the library, wherehe, also, had left his hat. In a few moments more the rattle of hiswagon was heard, as he drove off, indignant and disgusted at theindifference of the nabob in refusing to take an interest in hisbrilliant enterprise. He was angry with himself for having paid his notebefore he had enlisted the payee in his cause.
"How is he, father?" asked Nellie, as Captain Patterdale entered thehall.
"The doctor thinks he sees some favorable symptoms."
"Will he die?"
"The doctor thinks he will get over it. But he wants some ice, and Imust get it for him."
"I suppose you will not go in the Sea Foam now?" asked Donald.
"No; it is impossible," replied the captain, as he passed into thedining-room to the refrigerator.
The father was like the daughter; and though he was a _millionnaire_, ora _demi-millionnaire_--we don't know which, for we were never allowed tolook over his taxable valuation--though he was a nabob, he took righthold, and worked with his own hands for the comfort and the recovery ofthe sufferer. It was creditable to his heart that he did so, and wenever grudge such a man his "pile," especially when he has earned it byhis own labor, or made it in honorable, legitimate business. The captainwent up stairs again with a large dish of ice, to assist the doctor inthe treatment of his patient.
Donald staid
in the hall, talking with Miss Nellie, as long as hethought it proper to do so, though not as long as he desired, and thenentered the library where he, also, had left his hat. Perhaps it was asingular coincidence that all three of the visitors had left their hatsin that room; but then it was not proper for them to sit with their hatson in the presence of such a magnate as Captain Patterdale, and nodecent man would stop for a hat when a person had fallen in a fit.
Captain Patterdale's hat was still there; and, unluckily, there wassomething else belonging to him which was not there.