made his way back to Carlisle and had signed on the first vessel that needed a navigator.
And now she was looking at him as if her world had collapsed.
"I'll . . . miss you ...” She faltered.
“And I’ll miss you, Charlotte.” She would never guess how much! And of a sudden he swept her into his arms and planted a long kiss on those tremulous lips that responded so softly, so vibrantly to his touch.
Resolutely he put her away from him. He was looking down into her eyes, and for a moment he lost himself in their violet depths. Sternly he reminded himself once again of her youth and inexperience. “I brought you something from Carlisle,” he said, and gravely took from the pocket of his shabby coat a small gold locket on a delicate chain and clasped it around her neck.
“To remember me by,” he said.
As if she could forget!
“Oh, must you go yet?” she cried, distressed, when she saw he was really preparing to leave.
He gave her a wistful smile. “If I stay,” he said ruefully, “I’ll do something we’ll both regret. ”
She followed him through the garden for a few steps. “You’ll come back?” she asked anxiously.
He turned toward her, and all the depth of his yearning reached out to her like a warm soft wind. “Oh, yes, little Charlotte,” he said in a rich deep voice that seemed to whir through her senses. “I’ll come back.”
And then he was gone, swinging away jauntily, heading north along the lakeshore toward Carlisle.
Wend saw it all from the window.
“He’s in love with you,” she whispered when Charlotte came in. “Any fool can see that! Here, let me see, what did he give you?”
Charlotte held out the locket and gave Wend a misty look.
“He’s going far away, on a long voyage aboard the Mary Constant. Oh, Wend, do you think I’ll ever see him again?” she wondered with a little catch in her voice.
Wend was holding up the locket delightedly. “Oh, you’ll see him again,” she told Charlotte with a confident chuckle. “But who knows how soon?”
4
Winter 1730
In the great cavernous kitchen of Aldershot Grange, Cook had just burned the venison and the smoke from the big iron skillet was drifting upward past the hanging brass kettles to the blackened beams above. Perched on a three-legged stool beside the enormous stone hearth, where a bright fire was crackling, Charlotte had been listening with the same fascination as Cook and the others to the tale Wend was telling.
Ignoring the smoking mass that was to be their dinner, Wend was still speaking, leaning on her knuckles on the rude plank table, her eyes large and round.
“And when I come walking down by the lake on my way back from visiting my mother, there it was againl A woman’s white arm reaching up through the ice out of the Derwent Water and beckoning to me— beckoning ! And I asked myself, where could it want me to go?”
Wend's sepulchral voice was accompanied by a sudden shriek of wind that had come down off the crags and was trying to tear off the roof slates, and Charlotte shivered pleasurably. Although she did not really believe in Wend's outrageous stories, it was always fun to hear Wend tell of demons and goblins that stalked the night.
“Where did it want you to go? Why, to the other side of the lake to that lad you’re always threatening to run away with!” said Livesay, the butler, who was sitting at his ease at the head of the kitchen board, smoking his long clay pipe. He winked companionably at Wend.
Wend threw him a hurt look, "I’ve told you twice now that I’ve broken off with him. Why won t you believe me?"
"But what happened then, Wend?” urged Ivy, the upstairs maid.
"Why, a kind of white light shone over the lake and it fair blinded me!”
"Sun on the ice,” suggested Livesay with a grin. "Blinds you every time.”
Sleet crashed in a solid sheet against the windowpanes and Livesay’s last words were lost in another vengeful howl of the
And now she was looking at him as if her world had collapsed.
"I'll . . . miss you ...” She faltered.
“And I’ll miss you, Charlotte.” She would never guess how much! And of a sudden he swept her into his arms and planted a long kiss on those tremulous lips that responded so softly, so vibrantly to his touch.
Resolutely he put her away from him. He was looking down into her eyes, and for a moment he lost himself in their violet depths. Sternly he reminded himself once again of her youth and inexperience. “I brought you something from Carlisle,” he said, and gravely took from the pocket of his shabby coat a small gold locket on a delicate chain and clasped it around her neck.
“To remember me by,” he said.
As if she could forget!
“Oh, must you go yet?” she cried, distressed, when she saw he was really preparing to leave.
He gave her a wistful smile. “If I stay,” he said ruefully, “I’ll do something we’ll both regret. ”
She followed him through the garden for a few steps. “You’ll come back?” she asked anxiously.
He turned toward her, and all the depth of his yearning reached out to her like a warm soft wind. “Oh, yes, little Charlotte,” he said in a rich deep voice that seemed to whir through her senses. “I’ll come back.”
And then he was gone, swinging away jauntily, heading north along the lakeshore toward Carlisle.
Wend saw it all from the window.
“He’s in love with you,” she whispered when Charlotte came in. “Any fool can see that! Here, let me see, what did he give you?”
Charlotte held out the locket and gave Wend a misty look.
“He’s going far away, on a long voyage aboard the Mary Constant. Oh, Wend, do you think I’ll ever see him again?” she wondered with a little catch in her voice.
Wend was holding up the locket delightedly. “Oh, you’ll see him again,” she told Charlotte with a confident chuckle. “But who knows how soon?”
4
Winter 1730
In the great cavernous kitchen of Aldershot Grange, Cook had just burned the venison and the smoke from the big iron skillet was drifting upward past the hanging brass kettles to the blackened beams above. Perched on a three-legged stool beside the enormous stone hearth, where a bright fire was crackling, Charlotte had been listening with the same fascination as Cook and the others to the tale Wend was telling.
Ignoring the smoking mass that was to be their dinner, Wend was still speaking, leaning on her knuckles on the rude plank table, her eyes large and round.
“And when I come walking down by the lake on my way back from visiting my mother, there it was againl A woman’s white arm reaching up through the ice out of the Derwent Water and beckoning to me— beckoning ! And I asked myself, where could it want me to go?”
Wend's sepulchral voice was accompanied by a sudden shriek of wind that had come down off the crags and was trying to tear off the roof slates, and Charlotte shivered pleasurably. Although she did not really believe in Wend's outrageous stories, it was always fun to hear Wend tell of demons and goblins that stalked the night.
“Where did it want you to go? Why, to the other side of the lake to that lad you’re always threatening to run away with!” said Livesay, the butler, who was sitting at his ease at the head of the kitchen board, smoking his long clay pipe. He winked companionably at Wend.
Wend threw him a hurt look, "I’ve told you twice now that I’ve broken off with him. Why won t you believe me?"
"But what happened then, Wend?” urged Ivy, the upstairs maid.
"Why, a kind of white light shone over the lake and it fair blinded me!”
"Sun on the ice,” suggested Livesay with a grin. "Blinds you every time.”
Sleet crashed in a solid sheet against the windowpanes and Livesay’s last words were lost in another vengeful howl of the
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