"I can believe it," he said, smiling. "You see what reason I have to rejoice that I am a poor man."
Dolly thought, poor child, as they turned and went homeward, she could hardly go so far as to rejoice that she was a poor woman. Not that she wanted Brierley; but she did dread possible privation which seemed to be before her. She feared the uncertainty which lay over her future in regard to the very necessaries of life; she shrank a little from the difficulty and the struggle of existence, which she knew already by experience. And then, Mr. Shubrick, who had been such a help and had made such a temporary diversion of her troubled thoughts, would be soon far away; she had noticed that he did not speak of some other future opportunity of seeing the house and gardens, when she remarked that it was too late to-day. He would be going soon; this one walk with him was probably the last; and then the old times would set in again. Dolly went along down among the great oaks and beeches, down the bank now getting in shadow, and spoke hardly a word. And Mr. Shubrick was as silent as she, probably as busy with his own thoughts. So they went, until they came again in sight of the bridge and the little river down below them, and a few steps more would have brought the cottage into view.
"We have come home fast," said Mr. Shubrick. "Do you think we need go in and show ourselves quite yet? Suppose we sit down here under this tree for a few minutes again, and enjoy all we can."
Dolly knew it must be approaching the time for her to see about supper; but she could not withstand the proposal. She sat down silently and took off her hat to cool herself.
"I come here very often," she said, "to get a little refreshment. It is so pleasant, and so near home."
"You call Brierley 'home.' Have you accepted it as a permanent home?"
"What can we do?" said Dolly. "Mother and I long to go back to America--we cannot persuade father."
"Miss Dolly, will you excuse me for remarking that you wear a very peculiar watch-chain," Mr. Shubrick said next, somewhat irrelevantly.
"My watch-chain! Oh, yes, I know it is peculiar," said Dolly. "For anything I know, there is only one in the world."
"May I ask, whose manufacture it is?"
"It was made by somebody--a sort of a friend, and yet not a friend either--somebody I shall never see again."
"Ah? How is that?"
"It is a great while ago," said Dolly. "I was a little girl. At that time I was at school in Philadelphia, and staying with my aunt there. O Aunt Hal! how I would like to see her!--The girls were all taken one day to see a man-of-war lying in the river; our schoolmistress took us; it was her way to take us to see things on the holidays; and this time it was a man-of-war; a beautiful ship; the 'Achilles.' My chain is made out of some threads of a cable on board the 'Achilles.'"
"You did not make it?"
"No, indeed. I could not, nor anybody else that I know. The manufacture is exquisite. Look at it," said Dolly, putting chain and watch in Mr.
Shubrick's hand.
"But somebody must have made it," said the young officer, examining the chain attentively.
"Yes. It was odd enough. The others were having lunch; I could not get into the little cabin where the table was set, the place was so full; and so I wandered away to look at things. I had not seen them half enough, and then one of the young officers of the ship found me--he was a midshipman, I believe--and he was very good to me. He took me up and down and round and about; and then I was trying to get a little bit of a piece off a cable that lay coiled up on the deck and could not, and he said he would send me a piece; and he sent me that."
"Seems strong," said Mr. Shubrick, still examining the chain.
"Oh, it is very strong."
"This is a nice little watch. Deserves a better thing to carry it."
"Better!" cried Dolly, stretching out her hand for the chain. "You do not appreciate it. I like this better than any other. I always wear this. Father gave me a very handsome gold chain; he was of your opinion; but I have never had it on. This is my cable." She slipped the chain over her neck as she spoke.
"What makes you think you will never see the maker of the cable again?"
"Oh, that is a part of the story I did not tell you. With the chain came a little note, asking me to say that I had received it, and signed 'A. Crowninshield.' I can show you the note. I have it in my work-box at home. Do you know anybody of that name in the navy, Mr. Shubrick?"
"Midshipman?"
"He might not be a midshipman now, you know. That is nine years ago."
"True. I do not know of a Lieutenant Crowninshield in the navy--and I am sure there is no captain of that name."
"That is what I thought," said Dolly. "I do not believe he is alive.
Whenever I saw in the papers mention of a ship of the navy in port, I used to go carefully over the lists of her officers; but I never could find the name of Crowninshield."
Mr. Shubrick here produced his pocket-book, and after some opening of inner compartments, took out a small note, which he delivered to Dolly.
Dolly handled it at first in blank surprise, turned it over and over, finally opened it.
"Why, this is my note!" she cried, very much confounded. "My own little note to that midshipman. Here is my name. And here is his name. How did you get it, Mr. Shubrick?" she asked, looking at him. But his face told her nothing.
"It was given to me," he said.
"By whom?"
"By the messenger that brought it from you."
"The messenger? But you you--you--are somebody else!"
Mr. Shubrick laughed out.
"Am I?" said he. "Well, perhaps,--though I think not."
"But you are not that midshipman?"
"No. I was he, though."
"Your name,--your name is not Crowninshield?"
"Yes. That is one of my names. Alexander Crowninshield Shubrick, at your service."
Dolly looked at him, like a person awake from a dream, trying to read some of the remembered lineaments of that midshipman in his face. He bore her examination very coolly.
"Why--Oh, is it possible you are he?" cried Dolly with an odd accent of almost disappointment, which struck Mr. Shubrick, but was inexplicable.
"Why did you not sign your true name?"
"Excuse me. I signed my true name, as far as it went."
"But not the whole of it. Why didn't you?"
"I had a reason. I did not wish you to trace me."
"But please, why not, Mr. Shubrick?"
"We might say, it was a boy's folly."
"I shall not say so," said Dolly, tendering the note back. "I daresay you had some reason or other. But I cannot somehow get my brain out of a whirl. I thought you were somebody else!--Here is your note, Mr.
Shubrick. I cannot imagine what made you keep it so long."