CHAPTER XXIX.

BARBARA MAY BE A BARONESS.

“O! she is a golden girl! But a man, a MAN should woo her, And when she seems to fly away, He should like storms pursue her!”—_Anonymous._

The next morning, Sir Parke Morelle, with his favorite servant and his baggage, made up for a long sea voyage, arrived from Devonshire. When informed that passage for the party had been engaged on Miss Brande’s vessel, the Petrel, he at first demurred at the idea of risking their lives in a craft commanded by a woman. But in the course of half an hour’s conversation, Lord Montressor convinced him that the inevitable dangers of a sea voyage could in no way be enhanced to them through their sailing with Barbara Brande, who was, in all respects, admirably well adapted to her chosen position.

His lordship then imparted to the Baronet the fact of their accidental discovery of Estelle’s place of abode, and also of their fixed resolution to keep that discovery a secret until they should arrive at the Headland—a plan that the baronet heartily approved.

Lord Dazzleright rendered himself very officious and busy! Never was so zealous and serviceable a friend. He insisted that Sir Parke and Montressor had quite enough business to occupy them on shore, and that he himself should see to the embarkation of their baggage. But Lord Dazzleright, assuredly, proved himself incompetent, or else willfully negligent of his self-assumed duties; for the manner in which he contrived to spread the business of one day over an entire week, was highly exasperating to the prompt and energetic Barbara. For instance, one day he would see a trunk safely on board, and, having done so, would remain on deck by the hour, watching that handsome, falcon-eyed, commanding young Amazon, who had no time to talk to him; who took no notice of him; in short, who cared no more for _him_—Lord Dazzleright—than she did for the old waterman that had brought him to the vessel, or for any other decent poor man. This sort of indifference was something new to the lion of the London salons! It was novel, piquant, provoking, incomprehensible. He mentally termed her a barbarian, without capacity for appreciating a handsome, brilliant Baron of the Exchequer! Nevertheless, upon the pretext of seeing safely on board the vessel some trunk, box, packet or hamper, he visited the Petrel every day. And he was always treated in something like the following cavalier style. Hat in hand, he would step on deck,—where he ever found Barbara busily engaged—and, walking up to her, would say—

“Good-morning, Miss Brande! I have brought some boxes belonging to my friend, Sir Parke.”

“Good-morning, sir—Willful! here! see to getting up this gentleman’s freight!” and without another word, away she would go to attend to some other matters, in some other part of the vessel—unceremoniously leaving “the observed of all observers” of the fashionable drawing-rooms to bite his nails for vexation on the deck of the vessel. He called her “A savage! positively, a young savage! destitute of the very first principles of civilization!”—notwithstanding which, under the pretense of taking excellent care of some precious piece of baggage or other, he continued his daily visits to the Petrel. Barbara’s patience, that had lasted six days of the week, gave way on the seventh, “which was the Sabbath,” when she saw at the usual hour a boat come alongside, containing Lord Dazzleright and a quarter cask.

“Good-morning, Miss Brande,” he said, as he stepped on deck. “This is some pure port wine, for Sir Parke’s own use——”

“Good-morning, sir!” said Barbara, shortly—“Willful! see that this wine is got up and stowed away.”

Then, turning to Lord Dazzleright, she said, with great severity—

“Sir, this is the first time that I have ever received freight on board my vessel upon the Sabbath day, and I hope it will be the last; and I only take it in now rather than send you back with it.”

“The inconceivable young bearess!” thought Lord Dazzleright, but to her he said—“I am very sorry, Miss Brande, I did not know your rule.”

“Sir, the rule was not one of my making; it was not I who wrote—‘Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath day.’”

“I beg pardon—pray forgive me,” said the Baron very humbly.

“Ask pardon, sir, of Him whose commandment you have set at naught.”

“The exasperating young Barbarian! I wonder if I should have got a sharper sermon on Sabbath-breaking, or received a better lesson on humility, in any chapel in London,” said the Baron to himself.

“Is there any thing else to come on board?” asked Barbara.

“To-day?—no, Miss Brande.”

“To-morrow, then?”

“Yes, Miss Brande, there are Lord Montressor’s trunks.”

“Well, suppose that you just permit Lord Montressor’s servants to complete this business of transportation. I think they understand the work better, and will get through it sooner,” said Barbara bluntly turning away.

“Miss Brande,” exclaimed Dazzleright, going after her, “I was presented to you by our mutual friend, Lord Montressor. My character and position are not unknown to you. I hope, in addition to that, you believe me to be an honest and well-meaning man. I trust therefore that you will not be offended when I confess to you, that the great esteem and respect with which you have inspired me, brings me daily to the Petrel. If there were any more regular way of approaching you, I should gladly avail myself of it—as it is—I am forced to this, hoping to cultivate your acquaintance.”

“With what view?” inquired Barbara, coolly turning and facing him.

“With the view that we may become better friends, Miss Brande.”

“You are mad,” said Barbara, walking away and leaving him to digest this “flat.”

“I AM!” exclaimed Dazzleright, in a rage, as he went to the starboard gangway and beckoned the waterman to bring his boat alongside. As he descended into that boat he heard her clear ringing voice—commanding—

“Willful! call all hands on deck. I am going to read the Morning Service.”

“Umph! Umph! oh-h-h!” muttered Lord Dazzleright, in a succession of inward grunts. “What a young barbarian! Excepting that she seems an orthodox Christian, she is a most unmitigated young savage! She appears to have no more appreciation of social advantages than a swordfish—which in character she resembles! Did the young Vandal know that a possibility—a mere possibility was hinted—that she might become Lady Dazzleright?” So angry was the Baron, that on landing, he went straight to Lord Montressor and informed him that his lordship’s servants would have to see to the embarkation of the remainder of the baggage. And from that day, Lord Dazzleright went no more with box or bundle to the Petrel.

But, nevertheless, upon the day before she was expected to sail—without having informed his friends of his intention—Lord Dazzleright boarded the Petrel, desired to see the “Captain,” expressed his wish to take passage to America, and inquired if he could have a berth on that vessel; Barbara informed him plainly that he could _not_, that the cabin was already inconveniently crowded.

Whereupon Lord Dazzleright expressed his willingness to put up with a hammock swung anywhere—in the steerage for instance.

Barbara told him there was not a hammock to spare.

Then would Miss Brande take him as freight? he asked, smilingly.

No—the hold was packed from keel to deck, and could not stow another hundred-weight.

“Well! Miss Brande would not certainly be so unkind as to refuse him a roost on the rigging; he could sleep on the top,” he persevered.

“Lord Dazzleright, since you force me to say it, there is not an inch of space on board the Petrel at your disposal. Furthermore, under any circumstances, I should decline you as a passenger. Nor is it possible that you can ever have a berth in my vessel unless you should chance to be shipwrecked in our sight, in which case we should be obliged to pick you up,” said Barbara, with great severity.

“Then I’ll go and get myself shipwrecked forthwith!” exclaimed Lord Dazzleright.

“You perceive now, sir, I am busy. Good-morning. Avast there, Paul! what are you about!” and suddenly breaking off, Barbara hurried forward to look after her hands.

“A Barbarian! a Savage! a Goth! a Vandal! a Cannibal! a Bearess! and the handsomest, most piquant, and provoking young creature I ever met with in my life! Upon my honor, I do not know which is the most inexplicable—that I should become infatuated with this young woman, or that she should repulse me! By my life, I do not understand it, unless she is rabid and has bitten me, and I am in process of becoming mad!” said the “glass of fashion,” as with a crest-fallen air he dropped himself into the boat and was rowed to the shore.

The same evening it happened that Lord Dazzleright attended a ball at Almacks, where he was as usual the “cynosure of neighboring eyes,” the rich prey for which maneuvering mammas laid their plans, and mincing maidens laid their nets.

But with the usual perversity of human nature, Baron Dazzleright obstinately refused to become enamored of any willing Lady Clara or Geraldine among them and perseveringly sighed after the dark-browed, eagle-eyed, lion-hearted girl of the sea, who cared less for his baronial coronet than for her little brother’s tarpaulin hat; less for the title Baroness than for that of Sister Barbara; and still less to follow the phantom of pleasure through the mazes of fashion than to guide her “Stormy Petrel” through the wild waves of the pathless ocean!

But if this Vesta of the sea was all sufficient unto herself,—her admirer was no longer independent of her. She had revealed to him a phase of character as attractive, as fascinating, as it was novel and unparalleled! Compared with the vapid, insipid, insincere butterflies of fashion, this Barbara Brande was so full of vital force, of truth, courage, independence, and self-reliance! To crown all, she was a real and thoroughly conscientious Christian. He could not choose but think of her, and the longer he reflected, the more he approved and admired her.

Leaving Almacks at an early hour, he went to Gerard’s to seek Lord Montressor, whom he found busily engaged in writing.

“Ah, you are occupied. I will not disturb you.”

“No—only writing to Slater, my bailiff, at Montressor; I have done now,” said his lordship, rapidly folding, directing, and sealing the letter. “Now I am at your service.”

Lord Dazzleright threw himself into a chair, and cast his hat into a corner.

“What is it? What can I do for you, Dazzleright?”

“You are going on board to-morrow. You are in the confidence of Miss Brande. You will be in her company for some two or three months. Just use that opportunity to impress upon her rather hard head, that your friend Dazzleright is a well-meaning man, not utterly unworthy of her consideration, even if he _has_ had the misfortune to be successful in life!”

“Why?”

“Because if ever I marry a woman—her name will be Barbara Brande!”

“EH!”

“If ever I marry a woman her name will be Barbara Brande.”

“You are mad!”

“Just what she said! But—if ever I marry a woman, her name will be Barbara Brande! Now I will tell you what I want you to do—just let her know in a delicate manner, that I am an honest man, who, in spite of his coronet, is not totally beneath her notice.”

“Prove that to her yourself in person.”

“Ahem! I think I see her giving me the opportunity! My friend, as long as I keep a _very_ respectful distance, and merely touch my hat on meeting her, Miss Brande treats me with the same decent civility that she accords to the boatmen, hucksters and porters of the Docks. But just as soon as I presume to advance and aspire to a higher degree of consideration, she puts me down as quietly as though I were the Tom, Dick or Harry aforesaid. And when I gave her to understand the honesty of my ‘intentions,’ as the dowagers would say—she told me I was mad.”

“Miss Brande was right in repulsing you. What has the all-accomplished, all-praised Baron Dazzleright in common with that free, wild, irresponsible maiden of the ocean?”

“What?—nothing at all, of course! And that is the very reason why he wants her, and why he must have her as the complement of himself. Every quality of Barbara’s nature will become a new possession to me.”

“But the difference of rank——”

“_Peste!_ am I not ‘a son of the people,’ as the French would say? Should I not take to wife ‘a daughter of the people’? And, in one word, if I cannot get Barbara Brande to help me found a noble dynasty—why, then, the first Lord Dazzleright will also be the last of his illustrious line!”

Lord Montressor arose and clapped his hand into the palm of his friend’s, saying cordially:

“You are right! I did but try you! You are altogether right! And _she_ was also right in repelling your advances—for great reserve and firm repulsion are ever necessary as shield and lance for a woman in her strange position. But—barring your professional quibbling—you are worthy of her, and if I do not find a way of convincing her of that fact—and smoothing the path for your next overtures—why you may then set me down as an incompetent diplomatist, that is all.”

“I thank you, Montressor. Well, that is just all I had to say to you for this evening. I will not keep you out of bed any longer, for you will have to rise early to be on board in time, as the vessel sails with the early tide. The sky promises fine weather for to-morrow,” said Dazzleright, going to the window and looking out. “Well, Heaven grant it! Good-night, my friend!” he exclaimed, returning and offering his hand.

“Good-night, Dazzleright—but not good-bye,” answered Montressor, cordially pressing his offered hand.

“Oh, no, no! certainly not! I shall meet you at St. Catherine’s Docks to-morrow morning, and say good-bye only on the deck of the Petrel. _Au revoir!_”

“To our meeting!”