CHAPTER XIII

ANTICIPATED GLOOM

THE children's escape appeared well-nigh miraculous, and when the news of it spread through Egloshayle, numbers of the villagers flocked down to the beach to inspect the subterranean passage, of which scarce any one had been aware. Some of the oldest inhabitants, however, could tell, now that their memories were thus jogged, how in bygone days they had heard it said that there were two entrances to the long cave. They remembered that the place had for a long time borne the name of the Smugglers' Cave, because it was the lurking-place of a desperate band of men, who cunningly enriched themselves by a contraband trade.

An old man could tell how on one occasion, when the coastguardsmen had surrounded the cave, convinced that they had the smugglers in their power, they had, after long waiting, discovered that the culprits had given them the slip, and escaped from the cave, in spite of their constant watch at its entrance. Their mysterious flight had been a subject of marvel at the time; now it seemed plain that the hidden passage, discovered by the children, furnished the key to the mystery. It was strange that the existence of the tunnel in the rock should have been so long unknown, but doubtless the smugglers had done their best to keep it secret.

None save a few children could remember having noticed the hole at the back of the cave, and with them, it was evidently a recent discovery, so that it seemed probable that the place had only been disclosed of late. Mr. Hollys judged it likely that the rough seas and gales of March had swept away some barrier of rock or seaweed which had guarded the opening.

It was some days ere the children recovered from the effects of their strange adventure. Beryl was the first to shake off its ill consequences, but little Coral was poorly for more than a week. In her rough climbing, she had bruised her ankle, and the injury, which had seemed nothing at the time, now proved so troublesome as to oblige her to lie with bandaged limb on a couch in the nursery; whilst Lucy, full of remorse for the neglect from which had ensued such disastrous consequences, waited upon her and petted her with astonishing devotion.

Whilst Coral was thus laid aside, Beryl was her father's constant companion. Mr. Hollys prolonged his stay at home, for how could he bear to leave at once the child who had been given back to him from the arms of Death! Though it was the height of the London season, and he had many engagements in town, he sent excuses to his friends, and lingered at Egloshayle till he saw Beryl looking strong and bright again, and knew that the horror of her narrow escape from drowning had faded from her childish mind.

Those were joyous days for Beryl. Her father could not make enough of her, in his thankfulness for her restoration, and from morning till night his one aim seemed to be to give her pleasure. So anxious was he to spare Beryl any annoyance, that he made no mention of the governess who would shortly arrive at Egloshayle. It would be time enough to name that with other inevitable, though perhaps vexatious, truths, when he was about to leave home again. If Beryl fretted over them then, as was not improbable, he would at least be spared the pain of seeing his darling's tears.

One of these sweet June days was Beryl's birthday, and it was the first birthday, as far as she could remember, on which she had had her father's company. The anniversary of Beryl's birth had never been celebrated with the joyous festivities that form a bright spot in most of our memories of childhood. The day was one of gloom for her father, recalling as it did the darkest shadow that had fallen on his life. He had never cared to spend it at Egloshayle, and, now that it found him there so unexpectedly, he felt little disposed to plan a picnic or any such treat as Beryl hinted would be an agreeable way of marking the occasion.

So he promised the child that they would "keep" her birthday when he came home again in the autumn, and told her meanwhile to take counsel with Coral, and try to decide what would be the most delightful way of spending the day.

Beryl was perfectly satisfied with this promise. Her real birthday passed very quietly. The June roses were blooming in the garden, as on that day long ago when Guy Hollys had gathered them to place in the cold hands of his young wife. The sunshine was glorious, as it had been on that morn when its brilliance had struck so cruelly on the heart whose very light of life seemed gone. But now the healing hand of Time had done its work. That sorrow was but a memory. The wailing babe, whose presence had been held unwelcome on that day, had grown into the fine, fair girl whose beauty and grace gladdened her father's eyes. As Mr. Hollys' gaze rested on his child, he felt how great was his consolation, and his heart was not untouched by thankfulness to the Giver of all good, who had mercifully spared to him this precious gift.

Beryl made a wreath of the white roses, and went with her father to place it upon her mother's grave. She laid some flowers, too, upon the mound beneath which Coral's parents slept. The churchyard was no gloomy place to Beryl, but a familiar and loved spot, which she often visited.

"Papa," she surprised him by saying, when they had stood for some minutes beside her mother's grave, and her eyes were thoughtfully bent on the turf on which the roses made a spot of whiteness, "Papa, if we had been drowned the other day, Coral and I, where would you have buried us, do you think?"

"Oh, my dear! How can I tell?" he answered hastily. "What a question to ask!"

"Would you have put me here by mamma's side, and Coral over there with her mother?" asked Beryl, indicating with her foot the place where she supposed her body would have lain.

"Perhaps; but do not let us speak of it, darling."

But the subject was of interest to Beryl.

"If it had been so, papa," she asked curiously, "would you have come sometimes to put flowers on my grave?"

"Oh, my darling! What can I say? You pierce my heart with your questions," he replied in a tone of pain. "Thank God, I have you with me still, my little jewel. You must never run into such danger again, Beryl. Promise me that you will take all care in future."

"Yes, I will be very careful," said Beryl, who had already given the promise several times. "And oh, papa, I am very glad I was saved! I should be sorry to go away, and leave you all alone. You would miss your Beryl, wouldn't you?"

"Ah, indeed! More than you know," said Mr. Hollys fervently.

The memory of that talk in the churchyard haunted his mind for some time after his return to London, making him look anxiously for the letters which came to tell him of his child's welfare.

Two days later, he left home. An hour before he went away, he had a serious conversation with Beryl, in which he told her of the governess who was coming almost immediately, and urged her to be a good and industrious girl, and try, by the utmost diligence, to gain knowledge and make amends for the precious time which had been wasted.

Beryl listened to his words with a long face. The prospect before her seemed a disagreeable conclusion to the holiday-making of the last few weeks. She had some difficulty in keeping back her tears; but she managed to do so, for she felt it would be babyish to cry over such an absolute necessity as education. Mr. Hollys thought she took the news well, and he told her she was a good child, and would be sure to get on nicely with her governess.

When she had seen her father drive away from the house, Beryl went upstairs, looking very grave, to impart to Coral the startling intelligence of the change which was about to take place in their lives.

"Oh, Coral, I have something so dreadful to tell you!" she cried, bursting into the nursery, where Coral, still treated as an invalid, was resting in Lucy's rocking-chair.

Coral looked up in alarm, for Beryl's face was so serious, and her tone so tragic, that the child knew not what to expect.

"Oh, Beryl! What is it? Please tell me quickly!" she exclaimed, as Beryl tried to heighten the effect of her words by an impressive pause.

"All our nice times are over," said Beryl solemnly; "We shall never be able to play alone again, or to go on the beach or anywhere without some one to look after us, or to do anything that we like. The governess is really coming at last, Coral!"

"Is that all?" replied Coral, in a tone of relief; for her imagination had been conjuring up all kinds of dire possibilities, so that the governess's coming seemed, in comparison, a slight evil.

"All! I should think it was enough!" said Beryl sharply. "Why, Coral, you don't think how horrid it will be! I am sure she will be a nasty, cross thing, and I shall hate her;—or, at least, dislike her very much," she added, feeling that hate was too strong a word to use.

"Did your papa say she was cross?" asked Coral simply.

"Oh no, of course not; he said she was a nice young lady, the daughter of a clergyman; but I know she will be cross—all governesses are," pronounced Beryl, who had an opinion of her own upon most subjects, and never allowed the narrow range of her experience to limit her conclusions. "I expect she will be just such another as Aunt Cecilia; only I dare say she will know more, for between you and me, Coral, I don't think that aunt knows very much. You see, it is so long since she was a little girl and went to school, that she must have forgotten all she learned there."

"When will the governess come?" asked Coral, who was now looking as troubled as Beryl.

"The day after to-morrow," replied Beryl; "is it not dreadfully soon? I wish I had known before. Fancy, we have only one more day to ourselves."

"We must make the most of it," said Coral, with a sigh.

"There is another thing I must tell you," said Beryl, echoing the sigh. "Papa has made me promise to have no more Sunday schools on the beach. He laughed when I told him about it, Coral, as if it were something quite ridiculous. He said it was like the blind leading the blind, and I had better learn more myself before I tried to teach others."

"Oh, Beryl! What a pity to have to give it up!" exclaimed Coral. "And just as we are getting on so nicely, and they are beginning to understand about the pictures, and to sing 'When mothers of Salem' so well."

"Yes; and now they will forget everything we have taught them," said Beryl despondingly, "and no one will tell them about Jesus. It seems as if everything were against our doing anything for the kingdom."

"We can ask God to send some one else to teach them," suggested Coral.

"Yes; we can do that," said Beryl reluctantly.

This suggestion was not quite to her mind. It was hard to think of the work which was so dear to her being given to the hand of another. The rest of the day did not pass very happily for the children. The coming of the governess hung like a dark cloud on their horizon, and the forebodings which it awakened, made it impossible for them to enjoy the freedom of the present.