Just before that hour there had been a little silence. When two bells were struck, Mr. Percival was seen to smile with a curious expression.
“What is it, father?” asked Bess, who was nestling close to his side.
“Why, it reminded me first of church bells, and then of an odd little affair in a Maine town, not far from your uncle’s farm.”
“Oh! tell us about it,” cried two or three voices at once. “A story, a story!”
“Well, I should hardly like to turn this pleasant little Sunday evening meeting into a story-telling circle,” said Mr. Percival after a moment’s pause; “but as it’s all about a church, and is a sort of Christmas story, perhaps it will do no harm. Are you warm enough, Bessie?”
“Plenty, father,” replied the little Captain. “Do give us the story. I’ve heard you tell it before, but I always did like to see you tell.”
You must fancy, as you read the next few pages, that you are on the steamer, with collar turned up, or shawl muffled about your shoulders. Just in front of you is the story-teller, a man of about sixty, with iron-gray hair and full beard, kindly eyes and broad shoulders. His right arm is thrown over Bessie’s shoulder as she leans against him, the little injured foot on a camp-stool before her. Mr. Selborne, quiet and grave, with rather a thin face, but fine dark eyes and firm mouth under a brown mustache, comes next. Kittie and Tom are seated on the bench that runs around the whole deck, their backs to the rail. Pet is in a steamer-chair, and Randolph, Adelaide and Mrs. Percival are grouped together, completing the circle. Half a dozen other friends have drawn near, and are comfortably reclining, sitting or standing just behind Pet.
A radiant path leads over the waters toward the west, where the wooded islands throw their dark, rugged summits against the sky.
The muffled splashing of the steamer’s great wheels, mingled with the low whispers of wind and sea, fill the pauses of the speaker’s voice.
Overhead a brood of ocean fowl, a flock of slender-winged gulls, or a single eagle sweep silently across the bright field of gold.