Ned Chester jumped up in excitement.
"Of course I should. If I was there! But how to get there! A poor beggar like me!" He pulled out the lining of his empty pockets with a distracted air.
"There are ships going away from the docks every week for the mines. Go and get shipped as a sailor. If not as a sailor, as something else. There's the gold waiting for you to pick it up. If a matter of three pound'll get you off, I've got that much saved, and you shall have it. I'll give it to get rid of you, and for the sake of your mother and Sally----"
"And the Duchess," added Ned, somewhat maliciously.
"And the Duchess; you're right; so that you shan't worry the life out of us. I don't intend to say another word but this. When you come to me and say you're going, I'll give you the three pound the day the ship sails out of the Docks. And if you are not gone in less than a fortnight--well, just you imagine that I'm taking that oath over again--I'll have the handcuffs put on you and make an end of you."
Before the fortnight had passed, Seth Dumbrick, bidding Sally keep at home with the Duchess, and not stir out till he returned, went away in the early morning, and did not make his appearance till the evening. He was in high spirits. With the Duchess on his lap, he said in a cheerful voice to Sally:
"Sally, if you had a trance to-night, and Pharaoh came to you and said that your brother had gone over the water and was never coming back, it would be the truest thing he ever said since the time he was done up in a bundle, and became a spirit. It's true, Sal. The Duchess is all ours now."
[CHAPTER XIV.]
It was to Seth Dumbrick a pleasure, as well as a matter of conscientious duty, to play the part of schoolmaster to the children with faithfulness and regularity. Scarcely an evening passed but instruction was given to Sally, who, quick in this as in other things, proved herself the aptest of scholars. Before she had been two years in her new home Sally could read tolerably well, and could write, after a fashion; and it was about this time that the education of the Duchess of Rosemary Lane was commenced. Commencing with Sally at the very beginning of things--the Creation--Seth travelled with her through Genesis, and so confounded her with the unpronounceable names of the generations of men, that she timidly entered a protest against them, saying they hurt her mouth; which, being taken in good part by her schoolmaster, induced him of an evening to open the Bible at random, and impart instruction from any chapter he chanced to light upon. But the Biblical knowledge they thus gained was not allowed to sink into their minds in its undefiled state. Seth adulterated it with his comments and opinions, as other dogmatists would have done with such an opportunity before them. Treating the stories as though they were stories in an ordinary book, he robbed the Bible of its spiritual halo. This was wise; that was pretty; nothing was inspired. Seth's nature was tender and compassionate in a human way, but his religious principles would have shocked the orthodox church-goer. Sally, aware that he derived pleasure in hearing himself speak, was the more attentive listener of the two, and frequently simulated an interest which she did not feel; often, indeed, while he dilated upon ancient prophets and Jewish kings, her thoughts were running upon patched frocks and pinafores, and holes in stockings, and the thousand-and-one other domestic worries with which her young life was constantly filled.
She would have been content to have gone on in this way all the years of her life; not so the Duchess. Her nature was one which yearned for excitement; and she was happier in the streets than in the home Seth Dumbrick had given her. As she grew, her beauty ripened, and, with every penny which Sally could beg or borrow or earn spent upon her personal adornment, she moved among the usually sad streets and their residents like a bright flower; and as she grew and bloomed, those among whom she spent her days became prouder and prouder of her. Even the grown-up people petted and flattered her, and spread her fame into other streets and other neighbourhoods which could not boast of a Duchess. She was no trouble to her guardian, except that she developed the propensity of wandering away, and absenting herself for hours, to the distress and misery of Sally, who was never happy when her idol was out of her sight. It never occurred to Seth that there was a dangerous want in the child's life, the want of womanly companionship and womanly counsel and tenderness. The child had Sally, and Sally in Seth's eyes was worth a thousand women; and besides, the lonely life he himself had led precluded the possibility of such a thought causing him disturbance.