The Sapphire Cross

After Twenty Years

“You dog! you confounded lubber! Drive on, or you’ll have them out of sight!” shouted a frank, opened-faced young fellow of some three or four and twenty, as he leaned out of the front window of a post-chaise, and urged his post-boy to increase of speed.

“An’ how can I get another mile an hour out on such bastes, yer honner?” said the post-boy in answer. “The crayture I’m riding takes no more heed of the spur than the grate baste the levvyathan of Howly Scripture; and as to the blind mare there, the more I larrup her the more she hangs back out ov the collar.”

“Gammon! – nonsense!” cried the young man: “you can catch them if you like.”

“Shure, sor, I’d catch ’em if it was me. The spirit of me’s been close alongside this last quarter of an hour; but the bastes here ’ave got skins like a rhinosros.”

“Half a guinea if you catch them and go by in the next two miles,” shouted the traveller.

“An why didn’t ye spake sooner, sor? It’s meself’s the boy to get it out of the bastes if it’s to be done at all;” and the effect of the golden spur was soon visible in the way in which the mire of the cross-country road flew up from the whirling wheels.

For a couple of hours now, with the present and the preceding post-boy, had this chase been carried on, – now one chaise, now the other, being to the fore; the explanation of this being of the simplest character.

Lieutenant Brace Norton, of H.M.S. “Icarus,” had just arrived in port, and was, as he put it, homeward bound after his first voyage with the rank of lieutenant. In fact, he took so much pride in his epaulette, won after no end of midshipman’s adventures, that, until better sense prevailed, he had had some thought of wearing it home. He had travelled as far as the county town by rail, and now, having a rather large idea of his own importance, was finishing his journey in one of the post-chaises – scarce things then – left upon the road. At the railway station he had twice encountered a fair young face, small, dark, oval, and with a pair of sad-looking, lustrous eyes, their owner leaning upon the arm of a tall, grey-haired gentleman; and after making his way to the hotel and ordering his conveyance, spending the time consumed in getting it ready by smoking a cigar, he was startled, upon going to the door to lounge about the steps, by seeing the same travellers take their places in a chaise which had been prepared before his own.

“Do you know who that gentleman is?” he had said to the landlord, who had bowed his visitors to the door.

“Can’t say, sir, I’m sure,” was the reply. “Please excuse me, sir – I’m wanted.”

“Here waiter, my chaise; look sharp!” exclaimed the young lieutenant, slipping a shilling into the man’s hand, on seeing the direction the first chaise had taken. “Hurry them on, there’s a good fellow, and tell them to put in the best pair of horses.”

“Best pair’s gone, sir, with number one chaise, but I’ll get them to look alive.”

In spite of his stamping with impatience, and conducting himself in a most unreasonable manner, even to going into the yard himself, and hoisting the sluggish post-boy – a youth of about sixty – into his jacket, a full quarter of an hour elapsed before the chaise began to rattle out of the yard with the traveller in it.

“Here – hi! stop!” shouted a voice, as they turned down the main street.

“What the deuce now?” exclaimed the traveller, as the post-boy pulled up, after nearly running into a flock of sheep, and the waiter came panting up.

“Please, sir, you ain’t paid for the cigar, and sherry and biscuit,” exclaimed the man, in injured tones.

“Confound it, no!” cried the young man. “And – I say, I haven’t got my portmanteau! There, my man, look sharp, whatever you do!”

Five minutes more elapsed, but at length the bill was paid, the portmanteau secured to the front, and the crazy vehicle was once more well under weigh, the young sailor fuming the while with impatience. But as soon as the town was passed, liberal promises sent the shabby cattle scuffling along at a pretty good pace; and when the traveller had about given up all hopes of again seeing the face that had attracted his attention, the first post-chaise became visible, slowly crawling up one of the hills about half-way between Lincoln and Marshton, when again urging on the post-boy, the vehicle was at length overtaken, and whilst passing it the young man’s heart leaped as he again caught sight of the fair traveller, leaning forward to see who was passing, but withdrawing instantly upon seeing that she was the object of attention.

Twice did Brace Norton find the opportunities for a short glance at the now averted face: once during the stages, and again when they changed horses at Marshton; but now, to his disgust, it seemed that he had been favoured with worse cattle than before; and in spite of his urging the fresh post-boy – a native of “Sorrey,” as he took an opportunity of assuring his employer – it seemed that he was to be left entirely at the rear, to see the face no more.

But the golden spur prevailed; and as the young lieutenant saw that they were gaining rapidly, he threw himself back, muttering, “What a thing it is that there are no women at sea! It only wants their presence to make it perfect. I wonder who those can be, though? On a visit somewhere. Jove! What luck if it’s anywhere near us!”

His reverie was interrupted by the broadly-speaking post-boy yoho-ing to the one in front, and the next minute they passed the first chaise in an easy canter; but Brace Norton obtained no view, for, to his great chagrin, the window on this side – the side occupied by the gentleman – had the blind drawn down.

“Didn’t I do it in style, yer honner?” cried the post-boy, turning in his saddle to grin.

“Yes – yes; but easy now. Let them pass you.” And then to himself the traveller muttered, “I shall be right next time.”

“Is that to be included in the half-guinea, yer honner?” cried the post-boy, with a leer; but he obtained no answer, save a fierce gesture not to look back; for now the passing was to be performed by the other chaise, which in a few moments had again left them behind, while this time again the susceptible sailor had been doomed to disappointment, for as the chaise passed, the momentary glance showed him that the lady occupants head was averted, and that she was talking to her companion.

“But what a neck!” muttered the young man; “and what glorious hair! What a cluster of braids! Why, she could sit on it, I’d swear, if it were down. Confound you! will you go on?” he shouted, thrusting his head from the window. “What are you crawling like that for?”

“Did yer honner want me to be always passing them, widout ever letting them get first again?” said the post-boy.

“You blundering idiot!” muttered the young man, laughing in spite of himself. “Drive on, Pat,” he said, aloud, “and pass them again.”

“Me name’s Jeames, yer honner, av ye please,” said the post-boy, with dignity, and for a short distance he drove sulkily on at a very moderate pace, till the thought that he had not yet obtained the promised half-guinea prompted him to try and keep his employer in a good temper; and once more he passed the foremost chaise at a canter, slackening again in obedience to orders received soon afterwards.

Now every one who has been much upon the road must be fully aware that there is a feeling existent amply shared by man and horse, which, however strange the comparison may seem, is fully expressed in the old saying, that most people like to play first fiddle. Be driving, and pass the sorriest old jaded brute that was ever verging upon the cat’s-meat barrow, and see if the poor beast does not, for a few minutes, prick up his ears, and break into a trot to regain his place. Generally the driver is ready enough to urge him on, and if you slacken pace for a few minutes, ten to one but you are passed in your turn.

It was so here with the post-boy and horses of the other chaise: to be passed here on the road again and again by a rival was not to be borne; and the slackening under Brace Norton’s instructions being taken as a signal of defeat, there soon came a shout from behind to the Irish boy to draw aside, one which, being rather sulky at having had a mistake made in his country, the post-boy refused to heed; and just as Brace was hopefully gazing from his window for another glance, there came the crash of wheel against wheel, the swerving aside of the horses, and in less time than it can be written, to Brace Norton’s horror, he saw the vehicle of his companions of the road overturned – the off-wheels in the ditch, and one horse kicking and plunging in a way that threatened death to the occupants of the carriage.

The Wreck Ashore

“’E’ve done it now, sor, an’ I hope ye’re satisfied!” said James, sitting complacently on his saddle, and looking at the plunging horses, his fellow-servant with one leg entangled in the harness, and the havoc made at each plunge of the uppermost beast.

“You scoundrel!” exclaimed Brace, furiously, as he leaped down. “Why didn’t you give more room? Here, come and help!”

“Can’t lave me bastes, sor, or they’d take fright, they’re so full of sperrit,” said the youth, coolly, as, running to the prostrate chaise, Brace contrived to drag open the door, feeling, as he did so, that he was alone to blame for the accident.

“Here, quick! my child! help her first,” exclaimed the gentleman, but most needlessly, for the young man had neither look nor thought for him, but was striving to lift the insensible and bleeding form of the wounded girl from the wreck. For at the first crash of the overturning chaise the window had been driven in, and one of the splinters of glass had gashed her temple.

“Good Heavens! what have I done?” muttered Brace, as he succeeded in passing his arms round the senseless form, lifted it by main force from the door, and then bore it to the grass a few yards further on, where, laying it down, he proceeded to press his handkerchief to the wound.

“Let me come, young man,” said a harsh voice at his elbow, and, starting with surprise, Brace saw that the gentleman, till now forgotten, had climbed from the chaise, and now made no scruple in thrusting him aside to take his place.

“What can I do? Had I not better gallop off for a doctor?”

“Thank you, no,” was the cold reply, as the gentleman, for an instant, looked the tenderer of service full in the face. “This is no scene from a romance, sir. You need trouble yourself no further. My daughter is more frightened than hurt, I dare say.”

“A cold-hearted, unfeeling brute,” muttered Brace to himself, for he was greatly excited, and felt at that moment as if he would have given the world to have been allowed to kneel there and support the inanimate form. For a moment he felt ready to make confession that he had been the cause of the accident, but that he felt would be folly; and once more, heedless of the cold reception his offers met with, he proposed that a doctor should be fetched.

“If I required a medical man, sir,” said the gentleman, “there is the post-boy, my paid servant, that I could send for one: unless,” he said, tauntingly, “you, sir, wish to earn something more than my thanks.”

The colour rose to the young man’s cheek as he met the cold, glittering eye turned to him for a moment; but he smothered the resentment he could not avoid feeling, and, without a word, turned away to a clear part of the ditch, returning, in a few minutes, with his navy cloth cap half full of water.

The gentleman frowned as he saw this favour forced upon him as he thought, and unwillingly accepting it, he sprinkled the white face, and bathed the forehead, wiping away the ruddy stains, and binding a handkerchief tightly across the wound. But for awhile there were no signs of returning animation, and once more, in spite of the scowl upon the fathers face, Brace Norton hurried away to bring more water.

“There is a faint shade of colour returning now,” exclaimed Brace, eagerly.

“Then perhaps you will have the goodness to retire, sir,” said the gentleman, haughtily. “My daughter is not accustomed to the society of strangers; and, at such a time, your presence would be a fresh shock.”

“But this is a lonely place, sir. You are miles away from any aid. Pray let me endeavour to be of some service. Surely I can help you.”

“I thank you, no,” was the cold reply.

“But for the lady’s sake, sir,” exclaimed Brace, almost indignantly. “You will take my chaise, and continue your journey?”

“Young man,” was the rude answer, “I am not in the habit of placing myself under obligations to strangers. I shall not require your chaise: I have no doubt, with the help of some of the labourers about, our own vehicle can be set right in a very short time.”

“Sure, sor, the short time will be a month,” said Brace’s post-boy; “the hint wheel’s off intirely, and Jerry Stone siz as the harness is all to tatthers, an’ he wants to know if aither of ye gentlemen have got a drop of brandy wid ye, for the poor boy feels faint.”

In effect, the other post-boy was seated upon a bank beside his now extricated horses – set free by the liberal use of a knife amongst the harness; and it was evident, from the way in which the poor fellow was rocking himself to and fro, that he was in great pain; while a glance at the wretched chaise showed the impossibility of making use of it for further proceeding upon that day.

But Brace Norton possessed something of the irrepressible in his composition, and, speaking gently, he said, addressing the late speaker: “I am aware, sir, that it is unpleasant to have favours forced upon you by a complete stranger, but let me beg of you not to let the little I offer be looked upon in the light of a favour. For the young lady’s sake, pray make use of my chaise, and leave me to take my chance. I dare not presume to offer you advice, but would not a reference to some medical man be advisable? This long-continued swoon – ”

Brace Norton said no more, for, glancing from father to daughter as he spoke, he became aware that sensibility had returned, and that a pair of soft, sad, dreamy eyes were fixed upon him, but only for their lids to be lowered, and a faint blush to overspread the pallid cheeks upon her seeing that her gaze was observed.

“Do you feel in pain?” said the gentleman, bending over her, but paying no heed to Brace Norton’s remarks.

“No, papa; only a little faint. But you are not hurt?”

“No, no; not at all.” Then, in an undertone: “How very unfortunate!” and he frowned at the shattered chaise as he would have done at its driver.

Brace Norton was wise enough in his generation to see that the less he said the less likely he would be to give offence; but a bitter feeling of disappointment came over him as he found how completely his presence was ignored.

“If it were not for that sweet girl he might walk,” muttered the young man; but the next moment his heart leaped with pleasure, when, after standing thoughtfully for a few moments, and then glancing from his daughter to the wreck and back again, the gentleman spoke somewhat more courteously.

“Necessity forces me, sir, to accept the offer of your chaise for my – for reasons of my own,” he added, hastily. “I will make use of it on condition that you allow me to pay any – ”

“Good heavens, sir!” exclaimed Brace, as haughtily now as the stranger, “give me credit for wishing to act as should one gentleman towards another whom he sees with his jibboom – absurd! – whom he encounters in distress – I beg pardon, I mean in – in a strait,” exclaimed Brace, desperately, for his nautical imagery did not find much favour. “I am only a simple officer in the navy, and no doubt a sea life makes me somewhat rude, but my offers of service are genuine, not mercenary.”

The stranger bowed, and turned to his daughter, who was now standing at his side.

“Take down that portmanteau,” exclaimed Brace to the post-boy.

“Yes, sor!” And after a good deal of grunting, unbuckling, and lifting it was placed by the road side.

“If you will allow me,” said Brace, “I will see that the damaged chaise is sent back to its owner.”

He turned then to hand the lady into the vehicle, but he was motioned back: not, though, without receiving from her a faint smile of thanks.

“My daughter needs no assistance further than I can render,” was the stern response to Brace’s offer. “Your handkerchief, sir!”

Brace took the handkerchief handed to him, as if the donor were about to strike him down. Then he drew back as father and daughter entered the chaise, so that he did not catch the order given to the post-boy. Then there was a stiff salutation from the gentleman; a slight bow from the lady; and the horses had started, leaving Brace, bareheaded, handsome, and flushed, standing in the road, till, suddenly the front windows were dashed down, the door partly opened, and, evidently suffering from some strong emotion, the face of the gentleman appeared to be turned the next moment towards the post-boy, as he roared, in a voice of thunder: “Stop!”

Another Encounter

“What now?” grumbled the post-boy, as he turned in his saddle, and then, in obedience to the gesticulations directed at him, pulled up very slowly, and not until he had traversed nearly a hundred yards of road. Flinging down the steps, the gentleman alighted, half dragged his daughter from her seat, so rudely, indeed, that she nearly fell. Then drawing her arm tightly through his own, he walked back to the injured post-boy and gave some order, his forehead netted the while with the swelling veins, and his face now pale and flushed by the passion that agitated his breast.

He seemed to quite ignore the presence of Brace, and before the young man could recover from his astonishment, father and daughter were hurriedly walking away.

“Is there anything wrong? – is – that is, can I be of no assistance?” stammered Brace, as he ran after and overtook them – speaking to the father, but gazing the while in the daughter’s pale and frightened face, as if his eyes were riveted there; but only to meet with a strange, imploring look, half horror – half dread.

The stranger tried to speak, as he raised one trembling hand, pointing towards the carriage, but no words passed his lips; and motioning the young man fiercely, he hurriedly led his trembling charge away.

“Is he mad?” said Brace to himself. “And to drag that poor girl away like that! What more can I do?” he muttered, as the post-boy drew up alongside of where he stood.

“I’ve put the portmanty back in the front, sor, as them two ain’t agoing.”

But Brace Norton did not seem to hear him, as, seeking for some clue to this strange alteration in the old man’s behaviour, his eyes fell upon the seat of the chaise the travellers had so lately occupied, where, forgotten for the time, lay his travelling writing-case, with its brass-plate bearing his name and that of his ship.

Well, yes, he had forgotten that, but what was there in his name to make the old man leap from the chaise as if half mad, unless —

There was a faint suspicion in his mind – a dim and confused mingling of fragments of old stories that had never made any impression upon him before; but now he struggled hard to recall in their entirety these shadowy memories of the past. In vain, though; he only grew more mystified than ever. The strangers were already at a turn of the road, and it was in his mind to run after them and ask for some explanation, when his eyes fell upon the handkerchief that the gentleman had placed within his hands – a handkerchief that now for the first time he saw was not the one he had applied to the injured temple, and his heart throbbed as he thought that it was his that she now held; but the next instant a feeling of trouble and pleasure mingled, as it were, came upon him, and he looked eagerly in the corner of the piece of cambric, to find there, in faint but still legible characters, the two words, “Isa Gernon.”

An old quarrel – some unpleasantry between the two families – some feeling of bitterness on the part of Sir Murray Gernon, who, with his daughter, had been resident in Italy for some twenty years. That must be it, for he could evoke nothing from the past – nothing tangible. Sir Murray had seen, then, the name of Norton in the chaise, and he refused to accept service from any one bearing that patronymic. It was absurd, too, after all these years; but it would only be an insult to a man of such pride of speech and mien to follow and press upon him what he would look upon as a favour. A little gentle advance or two upon the part of those at the Hall might put all right; for if that was Sir Murray Gernon returned unexpectedly after all these years to dwell at the Castle, there must be no enmity now. And this, then, was his daughter!

So mused Brace Norton as he mentally smoothed away all difficulties ahead, rejoicing, too, he knew not why, at the prospect of possessing such neighbours. He must, he felt, question them at home about the past, and try to adopt means for a reconciliation.

Here he stopped short, roused by the sight of the wrecked chaise, and recalling the position of those from whom he had but now parted. If that were Sir Murray Gernon, he was a good six miles from the Castle, to which place it seemed impossible that he could walk. What could be done, then, to help them without its being known from whence the help arrived? He had at last determined upon being taken back to the town, and informing the hotel-keeper of the state of affairs, when a heavily-laden fly was driven up, the roof and the driver’s box being filled with luggage, when, seeing the state of the post-boy and the injured chaise, the fly-man pulled up, and began to make inquiries.

“No bones broke, Tommy,” said the post-boy, in reply; “but I shall be precious glad to get back.”

“An’ was that the chay Sir Mooray Jairnon was in?” exclaimed a voice; and a massive-looking grizzled head was thrust out of the fly-window.

“Was it your master,” said the post-boy: “grey gent with a young lady?”

“Yes – yes! Where are they?” exclaimed an eager female voice. “Pray get out, McCray, and see.”

“Dinna fash yersel’, lassie,” said the first speaker. “There’s naebodie hurt, I ken. But where’s Sir Mooray, my lad?”

“Walked on,” said the post-boy.

“You are, then, that gentleman’s servant?” exclaimed Brace Norton, now eagerly joining in the conversation.

“And wha may ye be that ask sic a question?”

“Only a traveller on the road,” said Brace, smiling, as he glanced at the comely, pleasant-faced female who had just stepped out of the fly; “but your master and the young lady have just walked on. You have arrived in capital time, for I fear that she is much shaken. It was a very rude fall.”

“Gudeness save us, Jenny! jump in again, and let’s drive on. I’m verra grateful for your information, sir, and I thank ye.”

“Pray make haste, McCray!” cried the pleasant-faced dame, smoothing back the grey-streaked bands of hair from her forehead.

And the next minute, with the satisfaction of knowing that he had sent help where it was needed, Brace Norton was standing alone in the road.

He was very thoughtful and serious as he stood there, once more trying to bring back something of the old history from the past days of his parents’ life; but he soon gave it up as an impossible task, and one most unsuited for his present place of study. So, assisting the injured post-boy to mount, upon his reiterated assurance that he could easily reach home alone, Brace once more stepped up to his own conveyance, and, very thoughtful and dreamy, slowly continued his journey.

Four miles further on, having purposely kept the post-boy at a slow rate, Brace overtook the late occupants of the fly, arm-in-arm, and sturdily trudging on towards Merland, when, rightly concluding that their places had been taken by Sir Murray and his daughter, Brace stopped the post-boy, and invited the old Scot and his companion to share the conveyance.

“Na, na, sir; ye’re verra kind, but I’d raither not, and the gudewife here is of the same opinion. I wish ye a gude day, sir – a gude day. Ye’ll excuse our hurrying on.”

There was a something in the man’s manner that whispered of exclusiveness, and a desire to avoid strangers, which checked Brace Norton in his desire to press his offers of service. He had the good sense to feel, too, that, with the master so determinedly distant, any advances toward the servant might be looked upon as an insult. So, reluctantly giving the order to proceed, the wheels of the chaise spun round, and the next moment, at a turn of the road, Brace caught a glimpse of the couple trudging along; when, throwing himself back in the vehicle, the young man began to ponder upon what was the cause, his thoughts, too, often being occupied by the faces of his mother and Isa Gernon.