CHAPTER XXXVII. SUNNY BAY.
In all the wide world, there are lovelier bays than any to be found upon our eastern coast. But people, whose happiness is only comparative, may hie them away to superlative places, of Italy, or of the Cannibal Islands.
But for me, there is no place that need be more lovely, than Sunny Bay, when there is no sun upon it; except what goes out from the shore into the sea. A bay in the west takes an unfair advantage—it looks at its best, when the world is looking at it. While nobody gets up to see the best time of an easterly bay; or even if he does, he has nobody to admire it with him. And what use to admire a thing, by oneself?
Yet anything, fit to be called a bay, is so rare upon the weary stretch of coast, that it must not be looked in the mouth too closely, nor measured by the red tape of Government survey. If only it have a fairly carven curve, and two definite points not too far apart, a bay it is to be thankful for; and one to be proud of, and rejoice in, if there are hills and trees around it.
Sunny Bay had all of these; and as we drove down the Crowton lane towards it, I thought I had never seen anything so beautiful, the sea being gentle, and the sky clear and sweet. Lady Twentifold was pleased with my delight; for many of her visitors made very little of it.
"It is the prettiest place upon the eastern coast; at least in my humble opinion," she said, "though I do not pretend to be much of a judge. Roly makes light of it, after all his travels. But to me the familiar places are the sweetest; when we think of dear friends, who have seen them with us."
I looked at her eyes, still as beautiful as ever, and full of the warm home-love, which gives soft beauty to the simplest things.
"Laura is like her!" I said to myself; "Laura is like her. What more can be wished; except to share so sweet a heart?"
But the first thing to do was to share the dinner, or luncheon perhaps is the stricter word, if strict words are needful in a matter where none was. The carriage was sent away to the Inn at Crowton; for no house here intruded upon the pleasant meeting of land and sea. The rocks were just of the proper height, for table, chairs, and footstools, with bright green fringes, here and there, and mossy banks above the tide, and a crystal rill for the weaker vessels, and white sand for dainty feet to tap. To me it appeared, that all was perfect; except my clumsy self, with hands that trembled, and a heart that beat too fast.
"You are not well, my dear!" Lady Twentifold exclaimed, for she often addressed me kindly thus, when strangers were not present; chiefly perhaps from my fancied likeness to the dear child she had lost. "That canvassing has been too much for you. You are not intended for public life. I wish Roly would not force you into it so. Now, candidly, which do you enjoy the most; such a day as yesterday, or a day like this?"
With perfect truth, I answered—"Oh, such a day as this, a million times! But, I am as well as I can be, and wonderfully happy, I assure you. May I come, and look for shells with you?"
"To be sure you may. But don't forget your promise to my loves of burrow-ducks. You had better begin, before the tide comes up. Here are the flat trowel, and the long flag basket. Mind, the least touch brings them off, if you take them by surprise. But if you let them know that you want them, they won't come, without being knocked to pieces. My little dears were taken from their nest near here. And the scenery they prefer to everything, is limpets. Now, Laura, if you mean to try another sketch, I think this corner of the rocks, will be the best place for you, according to the way the light falls now. Tommy will follow me, I dare say; as soon as he has done his duty to the little ducks."
This arrangement was not quite the one I should have made, if the ordering had been left to me. Greatly as I admired, and loved "my dear lady," I certainly should have sent her shell-hunting; while I stayed in the corner, where the light fell so nicely, to offer to the nascent work of art the only criticism that ever is judicious—downright, thick-and-thin, admiration. However, not being the marshal of the forces, I made off, with tremendous zeal, to get a stock of limpets.
But, whether the tide was coming in too fast; or whether it was going out, at a pace to make one anxious about the welfare of the sea; or whether the limpets took to jumping, like sand-hoppers, carrying their rocks along with them; or whether there was no strange phenomenon at all, save the one that is strangest yet surest of all—the result, (which I am not in a position to explain, even if it concerned any salaried tide-waiter) was to fetch me very suddenly back to that corner; with the loves of the burrow-ducks left to woo the waves.
My own love was gazing, and, as I hoped, dreaming, about something that her pencil could not trace. That little reed of so many whispers, with the secret of Midas inside it, was lying on her block; and the only line it made, was its one true production—its own shadow. But who, that ever moved it, and made it far more eloquent than any poet's tongue, could have granted to it the expression of the face, now leaning over it?
What sympathy have rocks? Ever since they first began, the chief object of their life has been to knock human beings (generally on the shins, and knees) and to petrify them in a cave, at every opportunity, and to keep them from getting away from the sea, when the poor pulse is being beaten out of them. Typical are they of all that is stubborn, rugged, and relentless; and now one of them fetched me a knock on the knee (while my presence of mind was with Laura) that sent me down into a gulley of sand, with my limpet-trowel running into me. This was a pointed steel implement, such as bricklayers use; and my escape was narrow. A heavy man must have had a very heavy wound, and perhaps a fatal one; for the handle of the trowel struck the ground before me, while the steel was pointing at my breast. But Nature has allowed me some compensation for the short weight unfairly served out to me,—especially quickness of eye, and of body. In a word, what there is of me is good stuff—though not much to boast of, as you will remind me.
"Oh, what a fearful thing! What a very dreadful thing! Darling Tommy, are you quite dead again? You are always doing it, for the good of others. Oh, put your poor head up, and let me look at you."
"That is not at all the right thing," I answered, after a groan or two, to ensure attention; "the proper thing is, for me to look at you. And that is how I got into all this trouble."
"How good of you, Tommy! How very good of you! But do let me see, where your dreadful wound is. I won't be afraid of it, I promise you I won't; because you got it all for my sake. You are always getting wounds, for my sake."
"Of course I am. And why?" As I put this question, I continued to lie in the pit of my fall; the position being very nice, with Laura added to it. "Because I am all wounds, and all dead, for you."
"Now, don't be so stupid;" she said, with one arm going under my side, in a spirit of inquiry, and the other coming very softly round my neck; to coax me to get up, if I could only find the power. "You know, that you never are stupid, unless you are stunned, or bewildered, through your dreadful heroism. Oh, do let me try to get this fearful thing from under you. I won't cut my hands; and if I do, what can it matter? Very likely, you are bleeding to death, all this time. Why don't you let me see, where your terrible wound is?"
"Because, I have only got a little scratch," I answered; "and I feel so very comfortable, as I am. If you could put your face the very least bit nearer——"
"Do you think, you could lie quiet, while I go and fetch my mother? She has so much presence of mind, and she is——"
"How far away?" I asked in an earnest whisper.
"Oh, nearly a mile along the sands, I am afraid."
"Then I'll get up at once, if you will kindly try to help me. Only promise, that you won't be frightened by a little scratch, dear. It is nothing but the very smallest trifle, I assure you. I know one thing that would make it well at once. But there's no such luck for me as that. Both hands, darling—I may call you that now, mayn't I?"
"Just for the moment, while you are so sad, and helpless. Oh, but it is a very serious wound! Let me tie it up for you; it is bleeding quite fast. I know what to do for you. I'll put some laver to it."
The point of the steel had just gashed my chin—a narrow shave for me; as an inch or two lower would have sent it into my throat, no doubt.
"If you could hold the laver to it, while I run and fetch dear mother——"
"Not for the world. I want you, and you only. I love your dear mother very warmly, as you know. But oh, Laura, you can never know, how I love you!"
"You are taking an unfair advantage of me now;" she whispered, as she dropped her eyes, but not her hands; "I always thought, that you were so upright, and manly."
"So I am;" I answered, with my usual candour; "but I don't care how I sneak, or what I do; if I can only get you to be fond of me."
"What right have you to talk, with your chin in that condition? You will undo all the good my stupid hands can do you."
She raised her sweet eyes, to reproach me, as she spoke. And behold they were full of large bright tears!
I only said—"Darling, darling, darling!" each time, if possible, with greater fervour. And she answered, with a smile—"That is what I like to be."