"Well, that can't be to-day, for one thing."

The evening of that same day Judith was removed into the adjoining room, "her room," as Miss Trevisa designated it. "And mind you sleep soundly, and don't trouble me in the night. Natural sleep is as suitable to me as green peas to duck."

When, next morning, the girl awoke, her eyes ranged round and lighted everywhere on familiar objects. The two mezzotints of Happy and Deserted Auburn, the old and battered pieces of Dresden ware, vases with flowers encrusted round them, but with most of the petals broken off--vases too injured to be of value to a purchaser, valuable to her because full of reminiscences--the tapestry firescreen, the painted fans with b.u.t.terflies on them, the mirror blotched with damp, the inlaid wafer-box and ruler, the old snuffer-tray. Her eyes filled with tears. A gathering together into one room of old trifles did not make that strange room to be home. It was the father, the dear father, who, now that he was taken away, made home an impossibility, and the whole world, however crowded with old familiar odds and ends, to be desert and strange. The sight of all her old "crink.u.m-crank.u.ms," as she had called them, made Judith's heart smart. It was kindly meant by Coppinger to purchase all these things and collect them there; but it was a mistake of judgment. Grateful she was, not gratified.

In the little room there was an ottoman with a woolwork cover representing a cl.u.s.ter of dark red, pink, and white roses; and at each corner of the ottoman was a ta.s.sel, which had been a constant source of trouble to Judith, as the ta.s.sels would come off, sometimes because the cat played with them, sometimes because Jamie pulled them off in mischief, sometimes because they caught in her dress. Her father had embroidered those dreadful roses on a buff ground one winter when confined to the house by a heavy cold and cough. She valued that ottoman for his sake, and would not have suffered it to go into the sale had she possessed any place she could regard as her own where to put it. She needed no such article to remind her of the dear father--the thought of him would be forever present to her without the a.s.sistance of ottomans to refresh her memory.

On this ottoman, when dressed, Judith seated herself, and let her hands rest in her lap. She was better; she would soon be well; and when well would take the first opportunity to depart.

The door was suddenly thrown open by her aunt, and in the doorway stood Coppinger looking at her. He raised his hand to his hat in salutation, but said nothing. She was startled and unable to speak. In another moment the door was shut again.

That day she resolved that nothing should detain her longer than she was forced. Jamie--her own dear Jamie--came to see her, and the twins were locked in each other's arms.

"Oh, Ju! darling Ju! You are quite well, are you not! And Captain Coppinger has given me a gray donkey instead of Tib; and I'm to ride it about whenever I choose!"

"But, dear, Mr. Menaida has no stable, and no paddock."

"Oh, Ju! that's nothing. I'm coming up here, and we shall be together--the donkey and you and me and Aunt Dunes!"

"No, Jamie. Nothing of the sort. Listen to me. You remain at Mr.

Menaida's. I am coming back."

"But I've already brought up my clothes."

"You take them back. Attend to me. You do not come here. I go back to Mr. Menaida's immediately."

"But, Ju! you've got all your pretty things from the parsonage here!"

"They are not mine. Mr. Coppinger bought them for himself."

"But--the donkey?"

"Leave the donkey here. Pay attention to my words. I lay a strict command on you. As you love me, Jamie, do not leave Mr. Menaida's; remain there till my return."

That night there was a good deal of noise in the house. Judith's room lay in a wing, nevertheless she heard the riot, for the house was not large, and the sounds from the hall penetrated every portion of it.

She was frightened, and went into Miss Trevisa's room.

"Aunt! what is this dreadful racket about?"

"Go to sleep--you cannot have every one shut his mouth because of you."

"But what is it, auntie!"

"It is nothing but the master has folk with him, if you wish particularly to know. The whole cargo of the Black Prince has been run, and not a finger has been laid by the coast-guard on a single barrel or bale. So they are celebrating their success. Go to bed and sleep. It is naught to you."

"I cannot sleep, aunt. They are singing now."

"Why should they not; have you aught against it? You are not mistress here, that I am aware of."

"But, auntie, are there many down-stairs?"

"I do not know. It is no concern of mine--and certainly none of yours."

Judith was silenced for a while by her aunt's ill-humor; but she did not return to her room. Presently she asked--

"Are you sure, aunt, that Jamie is gone back to Polzeath?"

Miss Trevisa kicked the stool from under her feet, in her impatience.

"Really! you drive me desperate. I did not bargain for this. Am I to tear over the country on post-horses to seek a nephew here and a niece there? I can't tell where Jamie is, and what is more, I do not care.

I'll do my duty by you both. I'll do no more; and that has been forced on me, it was not sought by me. Heaven be my witness."

Judith returned to her room. The hard and sour woman would afford her no information.

In her room she threw herself on her bed and began to think. She was in the very home and head-quarters of contrabandism. But was smuggling a sin? Surely not that, or her father would have condemned it decidedly. She remembered his hesitation relative to it, in the last conversation they had together. Perhaps it was not actually a sin--she could recall no text in Scripture that denounced it--but it was a thing forbidden, and though she did not understand why it was forbidden, she considered that it could not be an altogether honorable and righteous traffic. Judith was unable to rest. It was not the noise that disturbed her so much as her uneasiness about Jamie.

Had he obeyed her and gone back to Uncle Zachie? Or had he neglected her injunction, and was he in the house, was he below along with the revellers?

She opened the door gently, and stole along the pa.s.sage to the head of the stairs, and listened. She could smell the fumes of tobacco; but to these she was familiar. The atmosphere of Mr. Menaida's cottage was redolent of the Virginian weed. The noise was, however, something to which she was utterly unaccustomed: the boisterous merriment, the shouts, and occasional oaths. Then a fiddle was played. There was disputation, a pause, then the fiddle recommenced; it played a jig; there was a clatter of feet, then a roar of laughter--and then--she was almost sure she heard the voice of her brother.

Regardless of herself, thinking only of him, without a moment's consideration, she ran down the stairs and threw open the door into the great kitchen or hall.

It was full of men--wild, rough fellows--drinking and smoking; there were lights and a fire. The atmosphere was rank with spirits and tobacco; on a chair sat a sailor fiddling, and in the midst of the room, on a table, was Jamie dancing a jig, to the laughter and applause of the revellers.

The moment Judith appeared silence ensued--the men were surprised to see a pale and delicate girl stand before them, with a crown of gold like a halo round her ivory-white face. But Judith took no notice of anyone there--her eyes were on her brother, and her hand raised to attract his attention. Judith had been in bed, but, disturbed by the uproar, had risen and drawn on her gown; her feet, however, were bare, and her magnificent hair poured over her shoulders unbound. Her whole mind, her whole care, was for Jamie; on herself not a thought rested; she had forgotten that she was but half clothed.

"Jamie! Jamie!" she cried. "My brother! my brother!"

The fiddler ceased, lowered his violin, and stared at her.

"Ju, let me alone! It is such fun," said the boy.

"Jamie! this instant you shall come with me. Get down off the table!"

As he hesitated, and looked round to the men who had been applauding him for support against his sister, she went to the table, and caught him by the feet.

"Jamie! in pity to me! Jamie! think--papa is but just dead."

Then tears of sorrow, shame, and entreaty filled her eyes.

"No, Ju! I'm not tied to your ap.r.o.n-strings," said the lad, disengaging himself.

But in an instant he was caught from the table by the strong arm of Coppinger, and thrust toward the door.

"Judith, you should not have come here."

"Oh, Mr. Coppinger--and Jamie! why did you let him--"

Coppinger drew the girl from the room into the pa.s.sage.