In the Roar of the Sea Part 52

The wind blew much stronger, and she could hear the boom of the waves against the rocks, like the throbbing of the unseen heart of the world. It was louder than it had been. The sound did not come upon the wind, for the fog that m.u.f.fled all objects from sight, m.u.f.fled also all sounds to the ear, but the boom came from the vibration of the land. The sea flung against the coast-line shook the rocks, and they quivered for a long distance inland, making every wall and tree quiver also, and the sound of the sea was heard not through the ears but through the soles of the feet.

Miss Trevisa came in.

"Shall I light you a pair of candles, Judith?"

"I thank you, hardly yet."

"And will you not eat?"

"Yes, presently, when supper is served."

"You will come down-stairs?"

"Yes."

"I am glad to hear that."

"Aunt, I thought you were going to Oth.e.l.lo Cottage the day I came here."

"Captain Coppinger will not suffer me to leave at once till you have settled down to your duties as mistress of the house."

"Oh, auntie! I shall never be able to manage this large establishment."

"Why not! You managed that at the rectory."

"Yes, but it was so different."

"How so?"

"My dear papa's requirements were so simple, and so few, and there were no men about except old Balhachet, and he was a dear, good old humbug. Here, I don't know how many men there are, and who belong to the house, and who do not. They are in one day and out the next--and then Captain Coppinger is not like my own darling papa."

"No, indeed, he is not. Shall I light the candles? I have something to show you."

"As you will, aunt."

Miss Trevisa went into her room and fetched a light, and kindled the two candles that stood on Judith's dressing-table.

"Oh, aunt! not three candles."

"Why not? We shall need light."

"But three candles together bring ill-luck; and we have had enough already."

"Pshaw! Don't be a fool. I want light, for I have something to show you."

She opened a small box and drew forth a brooch and earrings that flashed in the rays of the candle.

"Look, child! they are yours. Captain Coppinger has given them to you.

They are diamonds. See--a b.u.t.terfly for the breast, and two little b.u.t.terflies for the ears."

"Oh, auntie! not for me. I do not want them."

"This is ungracious. I daresay they cost many hundreds of pounds. They are diamonds."

Judith took the brooch and earrings in her hand; they sparkled. The diamonds were far from being brilliants, they were of good size and purest water.

"I really do not want to have them. Persuade Captain Coppinger to return them to the jeweller, it is far too costly a gift for me, far--far--I should be happier without them." Then, suddenly--"I do not know that they have been bought? Oh, Aunt Dunes, tell me truly. Have they been bought? I think jewellers always send out their goods in leather cases, and there is none such for these. And see--this earring--the gold is bent, as if pulled out of shape. I am sure they have not been bought. Take them back again, I pray you."

"You little fool!" said Miss Trevisa, angrily. "I will do nothing of the kind. If you refuse them--then take them back yourself. Captain Coppinger performs a generous and kind act that costs him much money, and you throw his gift in his face, you insult him. Insult him yourself with your suspicions and refusals--you have already behaved to him outrageously. I will do nothing for you that you ask. Your father put on me a task that is hateful, and I wish I were clear of it."

Then she bounced out of the room, leaving her candle burning along with the other two.

A moment later she came back hastily and closed Judith's shutters.

"Oh, leave them open," pleaded Judith. "I shall like to see how the night goes--if the fog clears away."

"No--I will not," answered Miss Trevisa, roughly. "And mind you. These shutters remain shut, or your candles go out. Your window commands the sea, and the light of your window must not show."

"Why not?"

"Because should the fog lift, it would be seen by vessels."

"Why should they not see it?"

"You are a fool. Obey, and ask no questions."

Miss Trevisa put up the bar and then retired with her candle, leaving Judith to her own thoughts, with the diamonds on the table before her.

And her thoughts were reproachful of herself. She was ungracious and perhaps unjust. Her husband had sent her a present of rare value, and she was disposed to reject it, and charge him with not having come by the diamonds honestly. They were not new from a jeweller, but what of that? Could he afford to buy her a set at the price of some hundreds of pounds? And because he had not obtained them from a jeweller, did it follow that he had taken them unlawfully? He might have picked them up on the sh.o.r.e, or have bought them from a man who had. He might have obtained them at a sale in the neighborhood. They might be family jewels, that had belonged to his mother, and he was showing her the highest honor a man could show a woman in asking her to wear the ornaments that had belonged to his mother.

He had exhibited to her a store-room full of beautiful things, but these might be legitimately his, brought from foreign countries by his s.h.i.+p the Black Prince. It was possible that they were not contraband articles.

Judith opened her door and went down-stairs. In the hall she found Coppinger with two or three men, but the moment he saw her he started up, came to meet her, and drew her aside into a parlor, then went back into the hall and fetched candles. A fire was burning in this room, ready for her, should she condescend to use it.

"I hope I have not interrupted you," she said, timidly.

"An agreeable interruption. At any time you have only to show yourself and I will at once come to you, and never ask to be dismissed."

She knew that this was no empty compliment, that he meant it from the depth of his heart, and was sorry that she could not respond to an affection so deep and so sincere.

"You have been very good to me--more good than I deserve," she said, standing by the fire with lowered eyes, "I must thank you now for a splendid and beautiful present, and I really do not know how to find words in which fittingly to acknowledge it."

"You cannot thank and gratify me better than by wearing what I have given you."

"But when? Surely not on an ordinary evening?"

"No--certainly. The Rector has been up this afternoon and desired to see you, he is hot on a scheme for a public ball to be given at Wadebridge for the restoration of his church, and he has asked that you will be a patroness."

"I--oh--I!--after my father's death?"