The Old Helmet Volume I Part 22

"I do not know. Perhaps because it is so delicate in its structure--perhaps because it is so tender. It does not bear being broken from its root."

"But I think Eleanor is as strong as anybody," said Julia.

"Don't you remember how ill she was, only from having wetted her feet, last summer?" said Mr. Rhys with perfect gravity.

"Well, what is that?" said Julia, not liking the inference they were coming to.

"That is a little fern that loves the wet. It grows by waterfalls--those are its homes. It grows close to the fall, where it will be constantly watered by the spray from it; sometimes this little half-brother it has, the Oak fern, is found there along with it. They are elegant species."

"It must be nice to go to the waterfalls and climb up to get them,"

said Julia. "What do you call these little wet beauties, Mr. Rhys?"

"Polypodies."

"Polypodies! Now, Mr. Rhys,--O what is this? This is prettiest of all."

"Yes, one of the very prettiest. I found that in a cave, a wet cave, by the sea. That is the sort of home it likes."

"In Wales?"

"In Wales I have found it, and elsewhere; in the south of England; but always by the sea; in places where I have seen a great many other beautiful things."

"By the sea, Mr. Rhys? Why I have been there, and I did not see anything but the waves and the sand and the rocks."

"You did not know where to look."

"Where did you look?"

"Under the rocks;--and in them."

"_In_ the rocks, sir?"

"In their clefts and hollows and caves. In caves which I could only reach in a boat, or by going in at low tide; then I saw things more beautiful than a fairy palace, Julia."

"What sort of things?"

"Animals--and plants."

"Beautiful animals?"

"Very beautiful."

"Well I wish you would take me with you, Mr. Rhys. I would not mind wetting my feet. I will be a Hard fern--not a Lady fern. Eleanor shall be the lady. O Mr. Rhys, won't you hate to leave England?"

"There are plenty of beautiful things where I am going, Julia--if I get well."

"But the people are so bad!"

"That is why I want to go to them."

"But what can you do to them?"

"I can tell them of the Lord Jesus, Julia. They have never heard of him; that is why they are so evil."

"Maybe they won't believe you, Mr. Rhys."

"Maybe they will. But the Lord has commanded me to go, all the same."

"How, Mr. Rhys?"

He answered in the beautiful words of Paul--"How shall they believe on him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?" There was a sorrowful depth in his tones, speaking to himself rather than to his little listener.

"Mr. Rhys, they are such dreadfully bad people, they might kill you, and eat you."

"Yes."

"Are you not afraid?"

"No."

There is strangely much sometimes expressed, one can hardly say how, in the tone of a single word. So it was with this word, even to the ears of Eleanor in the next room. It was round and sweet, untrembling, with something like a vibration of joy in its low utterance. It was but a word, said in answer to a child's idle question; it pierced like a barbed arrow through all the involutions of another heart, down into the core. It was an accent of strength and quiet and fearless security, though spoken by lips that were very uncertain of their tenure of life.

It gave the chord that Eleanor wanted sounded in her own soul; where now there was no harmony at all, but sometimes a jarring clang, and sometimes an echo of fear.

"But Mr. Rhys, aren't they very _dreadful_, over there where you want to go?" Julia said.

"Very dreadful; more than you can possibly imagine, or than I can, perhaps."

"Well I hope you won't go. Mr. Rhys, I think Mrs. Williams stays a great while--it is time the kettle was on for your tea."

Eleanor had hardly time to be astonished at this most novel display of careful housewifery on her little sister's part, whom indeed she would have supposed to be ignorant that such a thing as a kettle existed; when Julia came bounding into the outer room to look after the article, or after the old dame who should take charge of it. She stopped short, and Eleanor raised her head. Julia's exclamation was hearty.

"Hus.h.!.+" whispered Eleanor.

"What should I hush for? there's n.o.body here but Mr. Rhys in the other room; and he was saying the other day that he wanted to see you."

Back she bounded. "Mr. Rhys, here's Eleanor in the other room, and no Mrs. Williams."

Eleanor heard the quiet answer--"Tell your sister, that as I cannot walk out to see her, perhaps she will do me the favour to come in here."

There was nothing better, in the circ.u.mstances; indeed Eleanor felt she must go in to explain herself; she only waited for Julia's brisk summons--"Eleanor, Mr. Rhys wants to see you!"--and gathering up her habit she walked into the other room as steadily as if she had all the right in the world to be there; bearing herself a little proudly, for a sudden thought of Mr. Carlisle came over her. Mr. Rhys was lying on the couch, as she had seen him before; but she was startled at the paleness of his face, made more startling by the very dark eyebrows and bushy hair. He raised himself on his elbow as she came in, and Eleanor could not refuse to give him her hand.

"I ought to apologise for not rising to receive you," he said,--"but you see I cannot help it."

"I am very sorry, Mr. Rhys. Are you less strong than you were a few weeks ago?"

"I seem to have no strength at all now," he answered with a half laugh.

"Will you not sit down? Julia, suppose you coax the fire to burn a little brighter, for your sister's welcome?"