The girl from nowhere

by Mrs. Baillie Reynolds

The process of getting the barges out of the lock was one which threatened to last forever. It was done at last, however, and they proceeded up the river reaches, passing slowly below the long red wall of Hampton Court. Mr. Doggett, his good dinner eaten, and his pipe in his mouth, was quite content to sit at the tiller all day. In fact, he never believed that anybody but himself could induce the Sarah Dawkes to take the right course—an opinion which was not confined to his barge, but extended to the lady who was his wife, and in whose honor the craft was named.

His devotion to duty left Felix free, after washing up the dinner things, to try the effect of walking Rona up and down the deck. This was, however, so painful to her, that he was obliged to desist. The idea was growing in him that there was, as he at first feared, internal mischief. What were they to do?

Mr. Doggett presently confided to him his intention to part from the tug at Sunbury, and remain there that night, going on thence with a horse. A few more questions extracted a piece of information which was somewhat agitating to the young man. In his eagerness for flight the previous day he had jumped at the idea of going to Basingstoke, without having any clear notion of the waterway which would lead them thither. Now he ascertained that, at Weybridge, they would follow the Wey Navigation to the point where the Guildford and Basingstoke Canal flowed in—and afterwards, the sinuous curve of the quiet water would lead them within sight of the very uplands where Normansgrave stood among its pinewoods.

His heart leaped up at the idea of passing so near to his old home. His brow crimsoned with shame to think how any one of the villagers who in old days had petted him, would now pass him on the towing-path without recognition.

He plunged deeply into thought, into unavailing bitterness of heart towards his sorely tried half-brother. But in his thought was a new element. For the first time he began to see that Denzil might have some right on his side—that it was conceivable that their father's son might legitimately object to the use he had made of their father's name.

He was glad he had not told Rona who he was. The old name at least was not associated in her mind with the notion of a suicide and a convict.

He longed for, yet dreaded, the moment when they should reach the spot to which the poor heart that thought itself weaned from all ties now discovered that it clung with passionate desire.

It was dark by the time they were moored at Sunbury. Mr. Doggett went ashore to pass the evening with a few kindred spirits at the Waterman's Rest. As he would probably return to seek his couch in the cabin later on in the night hours, Felix made himself a shake-down with hay not far from where Rona lay, with the benevolent design of hearing her, should she call during the night.

But he slept like a log. The strain of body and mind through which he had passed was relaxed to the extent of permitting him to yield to an overmastering fatigue. There were clouds ahead. He still apprehended the necessity of depositing Rona in some hospital or infirmary. Every mile traversed by the barge was taking them farther from the north of England, and would increase the length, and consequently the expense, of their journey thither. Moreover, he was on ticket-of-leave for another fortnight, and he did not quite know what the police would make of his deserted room, his letter to his brother, and the empty mug. But, in spite of these things—in spite of the knowledge that his present route was slow and winding, and that pursuit might catch up at any moment—still, the fresh air and the food and the relaxation of tension had had their effect, and he slept ten hours without a break, and would have slept longer but for the ungentle touch of the Old Man's boot against his sparsely-clad ribs.

All that day he was tramping along the tow-path. They nearly went aground at the shallow just opposite Halliford, but, fortunately for the Old Man's state of mind, not more than a good shove with the pole would counteract.