Chapter II

ON THE WAY. MRS. MURCHISON'S STORY—(continued).

IT was funny how we seemed to get to know Master Bertram in the next hour. I can't help calling him "Master Bertram," though we did not know his name then. He talked away to the children, and gave them chocolate drops till I thought he'd make them ill; and then he talked to my husband, and he tried to make Miles talk too, but Miles was too shy. By-and-by I saw the white look come back round his mouth, and he didn't say anything, but just moved off into the corner, and went sound asleep with his head against the window.

When he woke up he was all fun and talk again, and he pulled out a bag of cakes and buns, and would have us share with him all round. I told him we'd got buns, but he said that didn't matter. "You'll want them all, down on the shore," says he; "and you don't think I can eat all these, do you?" said he. I couldn't help noticing that he ate hardly any, and he kept picking out the nicest cakes and offering them to little Bessie, who I could see took his fancy—she was so pretty and so sweet. But presently, in the very middle of a joke, he stopped and said—"Oh dear!" and dropped his head down on his hands.

"You're not well, sir," I said; and he got up a laugh, and said,—"Oh, only a little;" and then he got whiter and whiter, and couldn't hold himself up. So I just saw to him as if he'd been one of my own. I made him lie on the seat, and asked Jervis for some water, which we'd brought with us in case the children should be thirsty. Then I wetted his forehead, and after a minute he gave a sort of gasp, and opened his eyes, and laughed. If I hadn't kept him back he would have started up.

"Don't move yet, sir, please," I said. "It'll make you bad again."

"So very stupid of me," said he. "Thanks—you're so good. It was only that run, you know."

"I'm afraid you're ill, sir," I said.

"Ill! no!" says he. "I was ill in the winter, but that's ages ago. I'm all right now."

"Maybe the sea 'll make you stronger, sir," says I.

"Oh, I'm all right enough," said he again; and then he shut his eyes, and lay still, which didn't seem of a piece with his words.

"What a kind creature you are!" says he, all of a sudden; and he spoke quite brisk, and a streak of colour had come to his cheeks. "It's too bad, though, to bother you like this. I can get up now;" and he was up before I could stop him; but the streak of colour died away in a moment, and he just dropped back again, and I heard him say— to himself, like—"Oh dear, I do feel bad!"

After that I wouldn't let him stir nor talk, and I kept wetting a clean pocket-handkerchief and laying it on his forehead. He let me do as I liked; and presently he went off sound again, and slept like a top for ever so long. And when he woke up he did look better.

"There! I'm all right," said he, just as he had said before. "How stupid I've been!" And he sat up, and looked me in the face, smiling, with such a pleasant look. "You are a good kind creature!" said he. "What makes you so good to me, I wonder? You're exactly like our dear old nurse—only she's three times as old as you are, you know." I wondered if he meant that really; for three times thirty-six would make her a very uncommon age; but I thought perhaps he was joking.

Very soon after that we got to Ermespoint; and Master Bertram jumped out first, in such a hurry that I only wondered he didn't tumble down. He was rushing across the platform, but he stopped short, and came back, to lift down little Bessie. "Here, porter, bring my bag," said he; and then he rushed off again, and I saw a young lady, rather bigger than my Louey, kissing him, and he kissing a lady. I could hear his voice too, saying—"The nicest woman, mother, you ever saw!—and the very jolliest little girl!"—and they all three came across to us, and the lady thanked me so prettily for my "kind care" of "her boy," as she was pleased to call it. And Master Bertram said—"I shall find you all out on the shore by-and-by. Mind you don't go out of reach."

"After lunch," the lady said. "He must rest a little first,"—though nobody could have guessed from his merry face how bad he'd been an hour before.

What we had to do was to make our way down to the beach, and that was easy enough, Ermespoint being but a small place. We soon got to the Parade, where two or three donkeys stood about, and one little goat-carriage. The first thing my husband couldn't resist was to give Rosie and Bessie a ride in the goat-carriage. I did think the shilling might have been better used: and yet it was such a pleasure to them both! I've always been glad since to think our little Bessie had that ride.

So for an hour we walked or sat about on the Parade, while the children were driven up and down; and after that we went on the sands. Louey made a collection of sea-weed; and the two youngest hunted for shells; and Miles scrambled about on the low rocks; and my husband and I enjoyed it all—the quiet and the breeze, and the sunshine, and our children's delight, and the tiny waves which kept rolling in and breaking. Not big waves, like those Jervis had talked of; but then, as he said, big waves don't come without a big wind to make them; and that wouldn't have been half so nice for a long day on the shore.

The day didn't seem long; at least the morning did not. It was wonderful how the hours slipped by, and how happy we were! Nobody came near us; and I couldn't help thinking how much nicer such a day was, than to go out from home when everybody goes, and when every place is crowded, so one can't find a quiet corner anywhere.

Between twelve and one we had our dinner, and right glad we were of it. The children were just ravenous. After our meal it was nice to sit quiet for awhile. Jervis told stories to the little ones; and Louey arranged her seaweeds; and Miles kicked his heels about, lying on his back to stare up at the sky. All at once I heard a merry voice close behind, saying—"So here you all are!" and when I got up in a hurry, and turned about, there was Master Kingscote, and two young ladies with him—Miss Ellen Kingscote, who was two years older than Louey, and little Miss Rosamund, who was just the same age as our Bessie, and a sweet little lady too, though to my thinking there never was so pretty a child as my poor little Bessie.

"Isn't she jolly, Ros?" said Master Bertram pointing at Bessie. "And I've told my father and mother all about you," said he to me; "and you're all to come to tea in our house at five o'clock. You'll have the big basement-room." Ah! how little he thought, as he said the words, what way we should have the use of that basement-room! "You'll come; won't you?" said he, with that smile of his, which was like nobody's I'd ever seen before.

Well, I thanked him, and I asked him to thank Mr. and Mrs. Kingscote, and I said I was afraid it would be a trouble, more especial as they were just settling into a new house: but to that he wouldn't listen. Then I asked how he was, and he said, "Oh, I'm all right!" and I saw Miss Kingscote gave a little shake to her head, as if she didn't think so, no more than me.

Then Master Bertram asked us what we'd done, and where we'd been; and he said we must come along with him to see the very prettiest part of all, under the west cliff. "I've not been there yet," said he; "but everybody talks about that bit of beach, and I'm going now with my sisters. So you'd better all come along too. Now, Ros, you've got to act showman," said he to the little one, who kept holding on to his hand, and looking up in his face, as if she did love him so. She was like him, with blue eyes and a bright colour; and her hair was short and curly.

"The tide's going out now, so we can walk round under the cliffs, into the cove beyond," said he. "When the tide's high, you can't go that way. You see I know all about it," said he, laughing; and he kept running ahead, to jump from one rock to another, or to make his little sister jump. I couldn't help seeing, though, how quick he lost his breath, and how his colour came and went, and how often he seemed to stop, just to pant quietly, not making any fuss, and trying to hide it.

"I wouldn't go so fast, sir, if I was you," I said.

"Wouldn't you?" said he; and then he asked Miles, "Do you know what it is makes the tides come in and go out?"

"No, sir, I don't," said Miles. I could see Miles was wonderfully taken with the young gentleman, though he was too shy to say much.

"It's the moon," said Master Bertram; and I made sure he was joking; but he wasn't. "I'm not talking nonsense," said he. "It really is the moon and the sun; but most of all the moon. I'll tell you more— some day!" And I knew he hadn't breath to say much, walking over the shingles and the wet sand; and I wondered if we should ever see him again after that day.

We got to the cove at last, with great high cliffs rising up behind; and it was pretty, there's no denying. I think I noticed directly how the waves seemed to have eaten into the rock down below, digging out a hollow all along, so that the cliffs hung right over. But nobody thought of danger. It wasn't likely we should, being new to the place; and Master Bertram was as new to it as we were, and his sisters had been only there a few days. There were no danger-notices up, as there ought to have been. We heard later that there had been boards, warning people, till a year or two back; but they had been taken away, nobody could say why; and though one or two gentlemen had spoken out, and said how wrong it was, nothing had been done.

So we all went close up under the cliffs, never dreaming of danger; and if we'd all sat down and stayed there, nobody knows how many mightn't have been killed on the spot. But presently we scattered about. Master Bertram was amusing Bessie. He seemed to have taken such a fancy to her; and the dear little thing did look so pretty and smiling, while he built her a house of pebbles, and then wound a big ribbon of sea-weed round her hat. He said she was to take it home with her—little thinking! But none of us knew what was coming.

Presently Master Bertram left Bessie with my husband near the cliffs, and he strolled down the beach half-way to the sea, and got into a talk with Miles, which pleased me; while Jervis sat on a small rock, with Bessie on his knee, not following Master Bertram. Miss Ellie and Miss Rosamund were down near the water, with my Rosie; and I was just going to them, fearing Rosie might be a trouble. And Louey stood alone, not far from me.

I suppose she was the only one free to look-out; for all the rest except me were talking and busy; and I was thinking about Rosie. Louey always had been uncommon sharp to notice things: though she wasn't given to talk. She was not far from me, and about even on the beach with Master Bertram and Miles; and she had her face turned towards the cliff, looking up—watching the sea-gulls, she said after.

All at once, such a shriek came from her. I'd never heard my quiet Louey shriek before. I could not hear what she said; but others told me later that it was something about the cliff tumbling. I only knew the shriek meant something dreadful; and my head went round, for I didn't know where the danger was, nor who needed help, nor where I ought to turn. I saw Louey begin to rush down the beach, towards the sea; and I saw Master Bertram start off the other way towards my husband and Bessie. And I don't rightly know what happened next; only it seemed as if the whole top of the cliff was coming down in a great crash, and as if everybody must be killed.