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The Doctor's Dilemma by Hesba Stretton

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For it was very stormy and dismal as soon as we were out of Southampton
waters, and in the rush and swirl of the Channel. I did not fall asleep
for an instant. I do not suppose I should have slept had the Channel
been, as it is sometimes, smooth as a mill-pond, and there had been no
clamorous hissing and booming of waves against the frail planks, which I
could touch with my hand. I could see nothing of the storm, but I could
hear it: and the boat seemed tossed, like a mere cockle-shell, to and
fro upon the rough sea. It did not alarm me so much as it distracted my
thoughts, and kept them from dwelling upon possibilities far more
perilous to me than the danger of death by shipwreck. A short suffering
such a death would be.

My escape and flight had been so unexpected, so unhoped for, that it had
bewildered me, and it was almost a pleasure to lie still and listen to
the din and uproar of the sea and the swoop of the wind rushing down
upon it. Was I myself or no? Was this nothing more than a very coherent,
very vivid dream, from which I should awake by-and-by to find myself a
prisoner still, a creature as wretched and friendless as any that the
streets of London contained? My flight had been too extraordinary a
success, so far, for my mind to be able to dwell upon it calmly.

I watched the dawn break through a little port-hole opening upon my
berth, which had been washed and beaten by the water all the night long.
The level light shone across the troubled and leaden-colored surface of
the sea, which seemed to grow a little quieter under its touch. I had
fancied during the night that the waves were running mountains high; but
now I could see them, they only rolled to and fro in round, swelling
hillocks, dull green against the eastern sky, with deep, sullen troughs
of a livid purple between them. But the fury of the storm had spent
itself, that was evident, and the steamer was making way steadily now.

The stewardess had gone away early in the night, being frightened to
death, she said, to seek more genial companionship than mine. So I was
alone, with the blending light of the early dawn and that of the lamp
burning feebly from the ceiling. I sat up in my berth and cautiously
unstitched the lining in the breast of my jacket. Here, months ago, when
I first began to foresee this emergency, and while I was still allowed
the use of my money, I had concealed one by one a few five-pound notes
of the Bank of England. I counted them over, eight of them; forty pounds
in all, my sole fortune, my only means of living. True, I had besides
these a diamond ring, presented to me under circumstances which made it
of no value to me, except for its worth in money, and a watch and chain
given to me years ago by my father. A jeweller had told me that the ring
was worth sixty pounds, and the watch and chain forty; but how difficult
and dangerous it would be for me to sell either of them! Practically my
means were limited to the eight bank-notes of five pounds each. I kept
out one for the payment of my passage, and then replaced the rest, and
carefully pinned them into the unstitched lining.

Then I began to wonder what my destination was. I knew nothing whatever
of the Channel Islands, except the names which I had learned at
school--Jersey, Guernsey, Alderney, and Sark. I repeated these over and
over again to myself; but which of them we were bound for, or if we were
about to call at each one of them, I did not know. I should have been
more at home had I gone to Paris.

As the light grew I became restless, and at last I left my berth and
ventured to climb the cabin-steps. The fresh air smote upon me almost
painfully. There was no rain falling, and the wind had been lulling
since the dawn. The sea itself was growing brighter, and glittered here
and there in spots where the sunlight fell upon it. All the sailors
looked beaten and worn out with the night's toil, and the few passengers
who had braved the passage, and were now well enough to come on deck,
were weary and sallow-looking. There was still no land in sight, for the
clouds hung low on the horizon, and overhead the sky was often overcast
and gloomy. It was so cold that, in spite of my warm mantle, I shivered
from head to foot.

But I could not bear to go back to the close, ill-smelling cabin, which
had been shut up all night. I stayed on deck in the biting wind, leaning
over the wet bulwarks and gazing across the desolate sea till my spirits
sank like lead. The reaction upon the violent strain on my nerves was
coming, and I had no power to resist its influence. I could feel the
tears rolling down my cheeks and falling on my hands without caring to
wipe them away; the more so as there was no one to see them. What did my
tears signify to any one? I was cold, and hungry, and miserable. How
lonely I was! how poor! with neither a home nor a friend in the
world!--a mere castaway upon the waves of this troublous life!

"Mam'zelle is a brave sailor," said a voice behind me, which I
recognized as my seaman of the night before, whom I had wellnigh
forgotten; "but the storm is over now, and we shall be in port only an
hour or two behind time."

"What port shall we reach?" I asked, not caring to turn round lest he
should see my wet eyes and cheeks.

"St. Peter-Port," he answered. "Mam'zelle, then, does not know our
islands?"

"No," I said. "Where is St. Peter-Port?"

"In Guernsey," he replied. "Is mam'zelle going to Guernsey or Jersey?
Jersey is about two hours' sail from Guernsey. If you were going to land
at St. Peter-Port, I might be of some service to you."

I turned round then, and looked at him steadily. His voice was a very
pleasant one, full of tones that went straight to my heart and filled me
with confidence. His face did not give the lie to it, or cause me any
disappointment. He was no gentleman, that was plain; his face was
bronzed and weather-beaten, as if he often encountered rough weather.
But his deep-set eyes had a steadfast, quiet power in them, and his
mouth, although it was almost hidden by hair, had a pleasant curve about
it. I could not guess how old he was; he looked a middle-aged man to me.
His great, rough hands, which had never worn gloves, were stained and
hard with labor; and he had evidently been taking a share in the toil of
the night, for his close-fitting, woven blue jacket was wet through, and
his hair was damp and rough with the wind and rain. He raised his cap as
my eyes looked straight into his, and a faint smile flitted across his
grave face.

"I want," I said, suddenly, "to find a place where I can live very
cheaply. I have not much money, and I must make it last a long time. I
do not mind how quiet the place, or how poor; the quieter the better for
me. Can you tell me of such a place?"

"You would want a place fit for a lady?" he said, in a half-questioning
tone, and with a glance at my silk dress.

"No," I answered, eagerly. "I mean such a cottage as you would live in.
I would do all my own work, for I am very poor, and I do not know yet
how I can get my living. I must be very careful of my money till I find
out what I can do. What sort of a place do you and your wife live in?"

His face was clouded a little, I thought; and he did not answer me till
after a short silence.

"My poor little wife is dead," he answered, "and I do not live in
Guernsey or Jersey. We live in Sark, my mother and I. I am a fisherman,
but I have also a little farm, for with us the land goes from the father
to the eldest son, and I was the eldest. It is true we have one room to
spare, which might do for mam'zelle; but the island is far away, and
very _triste_. Jersey is gay, and so is Guernsey, but in the winter Sark
is too mournful."

"It will be just the place I want," I said, eagerly; "it would suit me
exactly. Can you let me go there at once? Will you take me with you?"

"Mam'zelle," he replied, smiling, "the room must be made ready for you,
and I must speak to my mother. Besides, Sark is six miles from Guernsey,
and to-day the passage would be too rough for you. If God sends us fair
weather I will come back to St. Peter-Port for you in three days. My
name is Tardif. You can ask the people in Peter-Port what sort of a man
Tardif of the Havre Gosselin is."

"I do not want any one to tell me what sort of a man you are," I said,
holding out my hand, red and cold with the keen air. He took it into his
large, rough palm, looking down upon me with an air of friendly
protection.

"What is your name, mam'zelle?" he inquired.

"Oh! my name is Olivia," I said; then I stopped abruptly, for there
flashed across me the necessity for concealing it. Tardif did not seem
to notice my embarrassment.

"There are some Olliviers in St. Peter-Port," he said. "Is mam'zelle of
the same family? But no, that is not probable."

"I have no relations," I answered, "not even in England. I have very few
friends, and they are all far away in Australia. I was born there, and
lived there till I was seventeen."'

The tears sprang to my eyes again, and my new friend saw them, but said
nothing. He moved off at once to the far end of the dock, to help one of
the crew in some heavy piece of work. He did not come hack until the
rain began to return--a fine, drizzling rain, which came in scuds across
the sea.

"Mam'zelle," he said, "you ought to go below; and I will tell you when
we are in sight of Guernsey."

I went below, inexpressibly more satisfied and comforted. What it was in
this man that won my complete, unquestioning confidence, I did not know;
but his very presence, and the sight of his good, trustworthy face, gave
me a sense of security such as I have never felt before or since. Surely
God had sent him to me in my great extremity.




CHAPTER THE FOURTH.

A SAFE HAVEN.


We were two hours after time at St. Peter-Port; and then all was hurry
and confusion, for goods and passengers had to be landed and embarked
for Jersey. Tardif, who was afraid of losing the cutter which would
convey him to Sark, had only time to give me the address of a person
with whom I could lodge until he came to fetch me to his island, and
then he hastened away to a distant part of the quay. I was not sorry
that he should miss finding out that I had no luggage of any kind with
me.

I was busy enough during the next three days, for I had every thing to
buy. The widow with whom I was lodging came to the conclusion that I had
lost all my luggage, and I did not try to remove the false impression.
Through her assistance I was able to procure all I required, without
exciting more notice and curiosity. My purchases, though they were as
simple and cheap as I could make them, drew largely upon my small store
of money, and as I saw it dwindling away, while I grudged every shilling
I was obliged to part with, my spirits sank lower and lower. I had never
known the dread of being short of money, and the new experience was,
perhaps, the more terrible to me. There was no chance of disposing of
the costly dress in which I had journeyed, without arousing too much
attention and running too great a risk. I stayed in-doors as much as
possible, and, as the weather continued cold and gloomy, I did not meet
many persons when I ventured out into the narrow, foreign-looking
streets of the town.

But on the third day, when I looked out from my window, I saw that the
sky had cleared, and the sun was shining joyously. It was one of those
lovely days which come as a lull sometimes in the midst of the
equinoctial gales, as if they were weary of the havoc they had made, and
were resting with folded wings. For the first time I saw the little
island of Sark lying against the eastern sky. The whole length of it was
visible, from north to south, with the waves beating against its
headlands, and a fringe of silvery foam girdling it. The sky was of a
pale blue, as though the rains had washed it as well as the earth, and a
few filmy clouds were still lingering about it. The sea beneath was a
deeper blue, with streaks almost like a hoar frost upon it, with here
and there tints of green, like that of the sky at sunset. A boat with
three white sails, which were reflected in the water, was tacking about
to enter the harbor, and a second, with amber sails, was a little way
behind, but following quickly in its wake. I watched them for a long
time. Was either of them Tardif's boat?

That question was answered in about two hours' time by Tardif's
appearance at the house. He lifted my little box on to his broad
shoulders, and marched away with it, trying vainly to reduce his long
strides into steps that would suit me, as I walked beside him. I felt
overjoyed that he was come. So long as I was in Guernsey, when every
morning I could see the arrival of the packet that had brought me, I
could not shake off the fear that it was bringing some one in pursuit of
me; but in Sark that would be all different. Besides, I felt
instinctively that this man would protect me, and take my part to the
very utmost, should any circumstances arise that compelled me to appeal
to him and trust him with my secret. I knew nothing of him, but his face
was stamped with God's seal of trustworthiness, if ever a human face
was.

A second man was in the boat when we reached it, and it looked well
laden. Tardif made a comfortable seat for me amid the packages, and then
the sails were unfurled, and we were off quickly out of the harbor and
on the open sea.

A low, westerly wind was blowing, and fell upon the sails with a strong
and equal pressure. We rode before it rapidly, skimming over the low,
crested waves almost without a motion. Never before had I felt so
perfectly secure upon the water. Now I could breathe freely, with the
sense of assured safety growing stronger every moment as the coast of
Guernsey receded on the horizon, and the rocky little island grew
nearer. As we approached it no landing-place was to be seen, no beach or
strand. An iron-bound coast of sharp and rugged crags confronted us,
which it seemed impossible to scale. At last we cast anchor at the foot
of a great cliff, rising sheer out of the sea, where a ladder hung down
the face of the rock for a few feet. A wilder or lonelier place I had
never seen. Nobody could pursue and surprise me here.

The boatman who was with us climbed up the ladder, and, kneeling down,
stretched out his hand to help me, while Tardif stood waiting to hold me
steadily on the damp and slippery rungs. For a moment I hesitated, and
looked round at the crags, and the tossing, restless sea.

"I could carry you through the water, mam'zelle," said Tardif, pointing
to a hand's breadth of shingle lying between the rocks, "but you will
get wet. It will be better for you to mount up here."

I fastened both of my hands tightly round one of the upper rungs, before
lifting my feet from the unsteady prow of the boat. But the ladder once
climbed, the rest of the ascent was easy. I walked on up a zigzag path,
cut in the face of the cliff, until I gained the summit, and sat down to
wait for Tardif and his comrade. I could not have fled to a securer
hiding-place. So long as my money held out, I might live as peacefully
and safely as any fugitive had ever lived.

For a little while I sat looking out at the wild and beautiful scene
before me, which no words can tell and no fancy picture to those who
have never seen it. The white foam of the waves was so near, that I
could see the rainbow colors playing through the bubbles as the sun
shone on them. Below the clear water lay a girdle of sunken rocks,
pointed as needles, and with edges as sharp as swords, about which the
waves fretted ceaselessly, drawing silvery lines about their notched and
dented ridges. The cliffs ran up precipitously from the sea, carved
grotesquely over their whole surface into strange and fantastic shapes;
while the golden and gray lichens embroidered them richly, and bright
sea-flowers, and stray tufts of grass, lent them the most vivid and
gorgeous hues. Beyond the channel, against the clear western sky, lay
the island of Guernsey, rising like a purple mountain out of the opal
sea, which lay like a lake between us, sparkling and changing every
minute under the light of the afternoon sun.

But there was scarcely time for the exquisite beauty of this scene to
sink deeply into my heart just then. Before long I heard the tramp of
Tardif and his comrade following me; their heavy tread sent down the
loose stones on the path plunging into the sea. They were both laden
with part of the boat's cargo. They stopped to rest for a minute or two
at the spot where I had sat down, and the other boatman began talking
earnestly to Tardif in his _patois_, of which I did not understand a
word. Tardif's face was very grave and sad, indescribably so; and,
before he turned to me and spoke, I knew it was some sorrowful
catastrophe he had to tell.

"You see how smooth it is, mam'zelle," he said--"how clear and
beautiful--down below us, where the waves are at play like little white
children? I love them, but they are cruel and treacherous. While I was
away there was an accident down yonder, just beyond these rocks. Our
doctor, and two gentlemen, and a sailor went out from our little bay
below, and shortly after there came on a thick darkness, with heavy
rain, and they were all lost, every one of them! Poor Renouf! he was a
good friend of mine. And our doctor, too! If I had been here, maybe I
might have persuaded them not to brave it."

It was a sad story to hear, yet just then I did not pay much attention
to it. I was too much engrossed in my own difficulties and trouble. So
far as my experience goes, I believe the heart is more open to other
people's sorrows when it is free from burdens of its own. I was glad
when Tardif took up his load again and turned his back upon the sea.




CHAPTER THE FIFTH.

WILL IT DO?


Tardif walked on before me to a low, thatched cottage, standing at the
back of a small farm-yard. There was no other dwelling in sight, and
even the sea was not visible from it. It was sheltered by the steep
slope of a hill rising behind it, and looked upon another slope covered
with gorse-bushes; a very deep and narrow ravine ran down from it to the
hand-breadth of shingle which I had seen from the boat. A more solitary
place I could not have imagined; no sign of human life, or its
neighborhood, betrayed itself; overhead was a vast dome of sky, with a
few white-winged sea-gulls flitting across it, and uttering their low,
wailing cry. The roof of sky and the two round outlines of the little
hills, and the deep, dark ravine, the end of which was unseen, formed
the whole of the view before me.

I felt chilled a little as I followed Tardif down into the dell. He
glanced back, with grave, searching eyes, scanning my face carefully. I
tried to smile, with a very faint, wan smile, I suppose, for the
lightness had fled from my spirits, and my heart was heavy enough, God
knows.

"Will it not do, mam'zelle?" he asked, anxiously, and with his slow,
solemn utterance; "it is not a place that will do for a young lady like
you, is it? I should have counselled you to go on to Jersey, where there
is more life and gayety; it is my home, but for you it will be nothing
but a dull prison."

"No, no!" I answered, as the recollection of the prison I had fled from
flashed across me; "it is a very pretty place and very safe; by-and-by I
shall like it as much as you do, Tardif."

The house was a low, picturesque building, with thick walls of stone and
a thatched roof, which had two little dormer-windows in it; but at the
most sheltered end, farthest from the ravine that led down to the sea,
there had been built a small, square room of brick-work. As we entered
the fold-yard, Tardif pointed this room out to me as mine.

"I built it," he said, softly, "for my poor little wife; I brought the
bricks over from Guernsey in my own boat, and laid nearly every one of
them with my own hands; she died in it, mam'zelle. Please God, you will
be both happy and safe there!"

We stepped directly from the stone causeway of the yard into the
farm-house kitchen--the only sitting-room in the house except my own. It
was exquisitely clean, with that spotless and scrupulous cleanliness
which appears impossible in houses where there are carpets and curtains,
and papered walls. An old woman, very little and bent, and dressed in an
odd and ugly costume, met us at the door, dropping a courtesy to me, and
looking at me with dim, watery eyes. I was about to speak to her, when
Tardif bent down his head, and put his mouth to her ear, shouting to her
with a loud voice, but in their peculiar jargon, of which I could not
make out a single word.

"My poor mother is deaf," he said to me, "very deaf; neither can she
speak English. Most of the young people in Sark can talk in English a
little, but she is old and too deaf to learn. She has only once been
off the island."

I looked at her, wondering for a moment what she could have to think of,
but, with an intelligible gesture of welcome, she beckoned me into my
own room. The aspect of it was somewhat dreary; the walls were of bare
plaster, but dazzlingly white, with one little black _silhouette_ of a
woman's head hanging in a common black frame over the low, open hearth,
on which a fire of seaweed was smouldering, with a quantity of gray
ashes round the small centre of smoking embers. There was a little round
table, uncovered, but as white as snow, and two chairs, one of them an
arm-chair, and furnished with cushions. A four-post bedstead, with
curtains of blue and white check, occupied the larger portion of the
floor.

It was not a luxurious apartment; and for an instant I could hardly
realize the fact that it was to be my home for an indefinite period.
Some efforts had evidently been made to give it a look of welcome,
homely as it was. A pretty china tea cup and saucer, with a plate or two
to match, were set out on the deal table, and the cushioned arm-chair
had been drawn forward to the hearth. I sat down in it, and buried my
face in my hands, thinking, till Tardif knocked at the door, and carried
in my trunk.

"Will it do, mam'zelle?" he asked, "will it do?"

"It will do very nicely, Tardif," I answered; "but how ever am I to talk
to your mother if she does not know English?"

"Mam'zelle," he said, as he uncorded my trunk, "you must order me as you
would a servant. Through the winter I shall always be at hand; and you
will soon be used to us and our ways, and we shall be used to you and
your ways. I will do my best for you, mam'zelle; trust me, I will study
to do my best, and make you very happy here. I will be ready to take you
away whenever you desire to go. Look upon me as your hired servant."

He waited upon me all the evening, but with a quick attention to my
wants, which I had never met with in any hired servant. It was not
unfamiliar to me, for in my own country I had often been served only by
men; and especially during my girlhood, when I had lived far away in the
country, upon my father's sheep-walk. I knew it was Tardif who fried the
fish which came in with my tea; and, when the night closed in, it was he
who trimmed the oil-lamp and brought it in, and drew the check curtains
across the low casement, as if there were prying eyes to see me on the
opposite bank. Then a deep, deep stillness crept over the solitary
place--a stillness strangely deeper than that even of the daytime. The
wail of the sea-gulls died away, and the few busy cries of the farm-yard
ceased; the only sound that broke the silence was a muffled, hollow boom
which came up the ravine from the sea.

Before nine o'clock Tardif and his mother had gone up-stairs to their
rooms in the thatch; and I lay wearied but sleepless in my bed,
listening to these dull, faint, ceaseless murmurs, as a child listens to
the sound of the sea in a shell. Was it possible that it was I, myself,
the Olivia who had been so loved and cherished in her girlhood, and so
hated and tortured in later years, who was come to live under a
fisherman's roof, in an island, the name of which I barely knew four
days ago?

I fell asleep at last, yet I awoke early; but not so early that the
other inmates of the cottage were not up, and about their day's work. It
was my wish to wait upon myself, and so diminish the cost of living with
these secluded people; but I found it was not to be so; Tardif waited
upon me assiduously, as well as his deaf mother. The old woman would not
suffer me to do any work in my own room, but put me quietly upon one
side when I began to make my bed. Fortunately I had plenty of sewing to
employ myself in; for I had taken care not to waste my money by buying
ready-made clothes. The equinoctial gales came on again fiercely the day
after I had reached Sark; and I stitched away from morning till night,
trying to fix my thoughts upon my mechanical work.

When the first week was over, Tardif's mother came to me at a time when
her son was away out-of-doors, with a purse in her fingers, and by very
plain signs made me understand that it was time I paid the first
instalment of my debt to her for board and lodgings. I was anxious about
my money. No agreement had been made between us as to what I was to pay.
I laid a sovereign down upon the table, and the old woman looked at it
carefully, and with a pleased expression; but she put it in her purse,
and walked away with it, giving me no change. Not that I altogether
expected any change; they provided me with every thing I needed, and
waited upon me with very careful service; yet now I could calculate
exactly how long I should be safe in this refuge, and the calculation
gave me great uneasiness. In a few months I should find myself still in
need of refuge, but without the means of paying for it. What would
become of me then?

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