She was self-willed, like her companion; but while he was gentle always in her presence, she was capricious and always imperious, not scrupling to assert her claims with a high toss of her pretty head, and a stamp of the little foot. Full of health, and naturally courageous, danger rather allured than repelled her; living mostly in the open air, she was as clear of eye and firm of foot as a young stag.
Hope neither felt nor affected timidity in roaming the stormy sea-coast or climbing the wildest rocky crags. Her foot as readily and instinctively leaped, unaided, the blackest chasms, the rudest headlands, and the rockiest cliffs, as did that of her companion, and she walked onward, after achieving these feats, without comment or exultation.
In sailing over the Pool, or along the sea, John Bonyton gave her the rudder to steer as a matter of course, and if the wind were high, so they had recourse to the oar, Hope assumed one in the same manner.
Sir Richard’s family were standing upon the piazza, watching the movements of Hope, who stood upon a slip of rock extending seaward, with oar in hand, and her hair tied in a knot under her chin. She had evidently determined upon a row to one of the islands in the distance, to which her companion objected, pointing to the masses of dark cloud rolling up from the sea, and the already dark purple hue of the waves in the lurid light of the gathering storm.
Mrs. Vines laughed as Hope gesticulated rapidly, and seizing the rope which held the boat, drew it in to land, and sprung therein. Her companion could do no less than follow, and they were soon sailing down the harbor, the little boat careening heavily.
“Is she not a perfect little Puck, as our Indians call the wood-fairies?” said Mistress Vines.
“True, most true, sweetheart; but a fearful cloud, I fear, is gathering over our house. Say not a word, my brave wife, but we must go home. I hear that which chills me to the heart. Poor, dear, innocent little Hope! Ah! dame, when we hear of tortures inflicted upon others, we hardly realize their import till those we love are threatened therewith.”
“They would not dare to touch a hair of her precious head,” responded Mistress Vines.
“Indeed, they would, sweetheart; but we will leave them before their plans are matured; and first, we must send this headstrong boy abroad. He stays only to his and our ruin. Use that silvery tongue of thine, dame, to urge his departure.”
“Ah! I see it all—we must abandon this dear Paradise of ours, where we have been so happy, and where our children were born, and go to a new land once more, and to a new people. Oh! my husband, my heart misgives me.”