CHAPTER XXXIV.
FACE TO FACE
– "Ah me!
The world is full of meetings such as this.”
– Willis.
“What next?”
It was Ranty who spoke in a deep, excited voice. Ray, white and stone-like, stood with one arm resting on the mantel, his face shaded by his heavy, falling hair, his deep breathing painfully breaking the silence. Ah! in that moment how the gossamer wall of his sophistry was swept away! He had flattered himself his resolution was strong enough to keep him from loving Pet; but now, now that she was gone, and perhaps forever, the truth stood glaring out in all its vividness, and he felt that he loved her with his whole heart and soul, as only a strong, fervid, passionate nature like his could love. His strong chest heaved with an emotion too deep and intense for words; and as he thought of her, alone and unprotected, in the power of those ruthless men, his very respiration stopped, until it became painful to listen for its return. Ranty’s question roused him; and the necessity for immediate action restored, in some measure, his customary calmness and clear-headed energy.
“We ought instantly engage the services of the Judestown police, and begin a vigorous search, I think,” said Ranty.
“Search! have not the police and the revenue officers searched for this infernal smugglers’ den for the last six months without ceasing? and yet they were as near finding it the first day as they are now.”
“Then what is to be done?” said Ranty. “We must try some means to find her, that is certain. Poor Pet! Oh! I always had a sort of presentiment that mad girl would get herself into some scrape of that kind, sooner or later. Hang the villains! I would like to swing every one of them to the yard-arm myself.”
“Ought you not to send word to your father?” suggested Erminie whose face was perfectly colorless with fear for Pet.
“I suppose I ought; but where am I to find him? He has gone, as well as Pet, and no one seems to know in what direction he may be found. The smugglers can’t surely have taken him, too.”
“Though I know it will be fruitless, I see nothing for it but to follow your advice, and inform the Judestown authorities. The shore in every direction must be searched; for if heaven and earth has to be roused, we must find your sister!” exclaimed Ray.
“What if they have taken her off to sea?” suggested Ranty.
Ray started violently for a moment, at the terrible idea; the next, a contrary conviction settled in his mind and he said:
“I hardly think so; they would not be so precipitate. At all events, by commencing a thorough search immediately we may discover some clue to her whereabouts. We had best return immediately to Judestown, and enlist all we can in the search.”
“We will have no difficulty in finding volunteers for the hunt,” said Ranty. “Pet was always an immense favorite with every one, and the whole town, I believe, would rise in a body to look for her, did we wish it. I would not give much for Black Bart’s life if he attempts to show himself to the mob after they hear this.”
So saying, the two passed out, mounted their horses, and set off for Judestown.
If that morning had seemed long to Pet in her prison, doubly long did it appear to Erminie, who, too uneasy and restless either to sit still or work, paced up and down the room, or passed in and out of the cottage, straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of the first who would come with news of Pet. But the morning passed and no one came; and sick, weary, and worn out with anxiety and disappointment, she sunk down on a seat, and hid her face in her hands in a passionate burst of tears.
A heavy, plodding step coming up the graveled walk in front of the cottage roused her, at last. She sprung to her feet, and stood with cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes dilated, and bosom heaving, with eager expectation.
But it was only the admiral, who came stumping in, looking more completely mystified and bewildered than any one had ever seen him before in their lives.
“Helm-a-lee!” roared the admiral, thrusting his huge head in the room. “What the dickens has little Firefly run afoul of now, or what’s in the wind, anyway?”
“Oh, Admiral Havenful! Pet’s lost! been carried off by those dreadful smugglers!” said Erminie, sinking back in a fresh burst of passionate grief.
“Stand from under!” exclaimed the old sailor, in a slow, bewildered tone, every reasoning faculty completely upset by this astounding intelligence.
“Oh, it was my fault! it was my fault!” cried Erminie, with bitter self-reproach. “I should not have allowed her to go last night at all. Oh, I will never, never forgive my self as long as I live,” and another burst of tears followed the declaration.
“Stand from under!” reiterated the admiral, still “far wide”; “Firefly carried off by the smugglers! Good Lord! Keep her round a point or so.”
“They will take her off to sea, and she will never come back again. Oh, Pet,” wept Erminie in a wild outburst of grief.
“Now, Snowdrop, just hold on a minute, will you?” said the admiral, facing briskly round. “Just stand by till we see how we’re coming. The question is, now, where’s Firefly? That’s the question, ain’t it, Snowdrop?”
Erminie’s sobs were her only answer.
“Just stand by a minute longer, will you?” said the admiral, lifting up the forefinger of his right hand, and aiming it at Erminie’s head. “Firefly’s gone – sunk – went to the bottom, and no one left to tell the tale – ain’t that it, Snowdrop?”
Erminie, knowing the admiral must be answered, made a motion of assent.
“Now the question is,” went on the admiral, bringing the finger down upon the palm of his other hand, and looking fixedly at them; “the question; what did Firefly run afoul of? She must have run afoul of something, mustn’t she, Snowdrop?”
“Y-e-s, I suppose so,” said Erminie, not very clearly understanding the admiral’s logic.
“And that something she run afoul of is supposed to be smugglers. Port your helm,” roared the admiral, on whose somewhat obtuse mind the whole affair was slowly beginning to dawn.
“Oh, Admiral Havenful! what do you think they will do with her? Surely they will not kill her!” exclaimed Erminie looking up imploringly.
“Just you hold on a minute longer, will you, Snowdrop?” said the admiral, looking fixedly at the fingers lying on his broad left palm, “and don’t you keep putting me out like this. Pet’s run afoul of smugglers; they have boarded her, and she’s knocked under and surrendered. Ain’t that it, Snowdrop?”
“They have carried her off – yes, sir,” wept Erminie.
“They have carried her off – yes, sir,” slowly repeated the admiral, in the same tone of intense thoughtfulness, “they have carried her off, but where to? There it is, Snowdrop, where to?”
“Oh, I wish I knew! I wish I knew! If we could only discern that, all would be well. Oh, dear, dear Pet!”
“Pet has run afoul of smugglers and been carried off, nobody knows where. Stand from under!” yelled the admiral, in a perfect paroxysm of grief and consternation, as the whole affair now burst in full force upon him.
There was no reply from Erminie, who still wept in silent grief.
“Main topsail haul!” shouted the old man, in mingled rage and grief, as it all dawned clearly upon his mind at last. “Pet’s gone! Been captivated; been boarded, scuttled, and sunk. Oh, perdition!” yelled the admiral, jumping up and stamping up and down, grasping his wig with both hands, in his tempest of grief. “Oh, Firefly, you dear, blessed little angel! You darned, diabolical little fool! Going and trusting your nose into every mischief that ever was invented. Oh, you darling, merry little whirligig! You confounded, blamed, young demon! To go and get yourself into such a scrape. Oh, if I only had hold of the villains! They ought to be hung to the yard-arm, every blessed one of them. Oh, Pet, my darling! By the body and bones of Paul Jones, you ought to be thrashed within an inch of your life. Oh, oh, oh, oh!” roared the admiral, in a final burst of grief, as he flung himself into his chair and began a fierce mopping of his inflamed face.
While thus engaged, another step resounded without – a slow, lingering, dejected step – and the next moment the pallid features, and mild blue eyes of Mr. Toosypegs beamed upon them from the door.
“Orlando,” shouted the afflicted admiral, “she’s went and did it! Firefly’s gone and did it! Yes, Orlando, she’s gone to Davy’s locker, I expect, before this, and the Lord have mercy on her soul!”
“Admiral Havenful, I’m really sorry to hear it, I really am,” said Mr. Toosypegs, wiping his eyes with the north-west corner of his yellow bandanna. “I never felt so bad about anything in my life. I never did, I assure you, Admiral Havenful. But why can’t they go to Davy’s locker after her? I should think they wouldn’t mind the expense in a case like this.”
“Orlando C. Toosypegs,” said the admiral, severely; “I hope you don’t mean to poke fun at people in grief; because if you do, it shows a very improper spirit on your part, and a total depravity I should be sorry to see, Orlando Toosypegs.”
“Why, my gracious!” said the astonished and aggrieved Mr. Toosypegs; “what have I said? I’m sure, Admiral Havenful, I hadn’t the remotest idea of being funny, that ever was; and if I said anything that wasn’t right, I beg your pardon for it, and can assure you I never meant it.”
“Well, then, enough said,” testily interrupted the admiral. “Now, Snowdrop, look here; what are they going to do about Pet?”
“Ray and Ranty have gone to Judestown to get the people to search. They think she is somewhere along the beach, in some hidden cave the smugglers have there.”
“U-m-m! very good,” said the admiral, nodding his head approvingly; “perhaps they will find her yet. I’ll go over to Judestown myself, and ship along with the rest. We’ll scour the whole coast; so that if she’s above water anywhere, we must find her.”
“I’ll go, too, Admiral Havenful,” said Mr. Toosypegs, with more alacrity than he usually betrayed; “that is, if you think there is no danger with them smugglers. You don’t think there is any danger, do you, Admiral Havenful?”
“Blame them – yes!” roared the admiral, fiercely. “I wish to the Lord Harry I could only come across some of them! I’ll be blowed if I wouldn’t give them the confoundedest keel-hauling they ever got in their lives! If you are afraid, Orlando Toosypegs,” said the admiral, facing round with savage abruptness, “stay at home! Any man that wouldn’t volunteer in a case like this, ought to be swung to the yard-arm and left to feed the crows. You would be a blue lookout for the commander of a privateer – wouldn’t you?”
“Admiral Havenful,” said Mr. Toosypegs, abashed and rather terrified by this outburst, “I beg your pardon, and I ain’t the least afraid. I’ll go with you, and do my best to help you to keel-haul the smugglers, whatever that may be. Miss Minnie, good-by. Don’t take on about it, because we’ll be sure to find Miss Pet and bring her home. I dare say the smugglers will give her up, if they’re only asked politely.”
The admiral heard this comforting assurance with a snort of unspeakable contempt, and then waddled out; and groaning bodily and mentally, mounted Ringbone, and accompanied by Mr. Toosypegs, set out at the rate of half a knot an hour to Judestown.
During the remainder of the day, Erminie was left alone, half wild with alternate hope, terror, anxiety, expectation. Her busy fingers, for a wonder, were idle now, as she passed continually in and out, watching, with feverish impatience, the forest road, in the hope of seeing some one who could give her some news of how the search progressed.
But night came, and no messenger had arrived to relieve her torturing anxiety.
It was a sultry, star-lit night. Not a breath of air stirred the motionless leaves of the forest trees, and the clear chirp of the katy-did and lonely cry of the whippoorwill alone broke the oppressive silence. Down on the shore below, she could faintly hear the dreary murmur of the waves as they sighed softly to the shore; and at long intervals the wild, piercing cry of some sea-bird would resound about all, as it skimmed wildly across the dark, restless deep. The wide, lonesome heath was as silent as the grave; and the long line of cherry-red light that usually shone over it from the parlor-windows of the White Squall was not visible to-night – the dreary darkness betokening its master was away. The forest lay wrapped in somber gloom, looming up, like some huge, dark shadow, in the light of the solemn, beautiful stars.
All within the cottage was silent, too. Ketura had long ago retired, and the negress, Lucy, was sleeping that deep, death-like sleep peculiar to her race.
Standing in the shadow of the vine-shaded porch, Erminie watched with restless impatience for the return of some one from Judestown – her whole thought of Pet and her probable fate. Unceasingly she reproached herself for having allowed her to depart at all that night; never pausing to reflect how little Pet would have minded her entreaties to stay when she took it into her willful little head to go.
The clock struck nine, and then ten; and still no one came.
Half-despairing of their return that night, Erminie was about to go in, when the thunder of horses’ hoofs coming through the forest road arrested her steps.
The next moment horse and rider came dashing at a mad, excited gallop up to the gate, and Ray leaped off and approached.
“Oh, Ray, is there any news of her? Is she found?” eagerly exclaimed Erminie.
“No; nor is she likely to be as far as I can see,” said Ray, gloomily. “Not the slightest trace of her has been found, though the whole beach has been searched, from one end to another. They have given it up now, and gone home for to-night. Ranty and the admiral stay in Judestown all night, and the hunt is to be resumed to-morrow, with the same success, I suppose. They are mad – worse than mad – to think they will ever see her again.”
He flung himself into a chair, and leaned his head on his hand, while his thick, jet-black hair fell heavily over his face.
Something in his look, tone, and attitude awed and stilled Erminie into silence. Though her own gentle heart seemed bursting with grief, there was a depth of passionate despair in his that repressed all outward sobs and tears. In silence they remained for a while, she silently watching him, and trying to choke back her sobs; and then, going over, she touched him gently on the arm, and said:
“Dear Ray, let me get you some supper; you have tasted nothing since early this morning.”
“Supper! Do you think I could eat, now?” he cried, with fierce impatience. “I do not want any. Go!”
“Dear Ray, do not look and speak so strangely. Perhaps you will find her to-morrow.”
“Perhaps – perhaps! When a man has lost all he loves in the world, there is a great consolation in a cool ‘perhaps he may find it again.’ Do you think those hell-hounds would spare her a moment, once they got her in their power! Oh, Petronilla – bright, beautiful Petronilla! lost, lost, forever!”
“Ray, Ray!” exclaimed Erminie, in low, terrified tones, as a new light broke upon her, “did you love Petronilla?”
“Love?” he cried, with passionate fierceness, starting up and shaking back his thick, dark hair. “Yes; I loved her with a love that you with your gentle nature and calmly-beating heart can never dream of. I loved her as only those can love whose veins, like mine, run fire instead of blood. Now that she is forever lost to me, I may confess; what no living mortal would ever have discovered else. Yes; I loved her! What do you think of my presumption, little sister? I, the beggared grandson of a despised gipsy, educated by the bounty of her uncle, dared to lift my eyes to this heiress, beauty and belle – this proud daughter of a prouder father. Loved her? Yes; beyond the power of words to tell!”
One white arm was around his neck, and Erminie’s soft, pitying lips were pressed to his forehead of flame. She did not speak – no words were needed; that silent caress bespoke her deep sympathy.
He sat still and silent for a moment; and then he started up and seized his hat to go.
“Are you going out again, Ray?” asked Erminie, surprised and uneasy.
“Yes; for an hour or so. I cannot stay here, with this fever fire in heart and brain.”
He walked rapidly away from the cottage, and, as if involuntarily, his steps turned in the direction of the shore. Right over the shore, in one place, the rocks projected in a sort of shelf not more than five feet from the ground. Underneath they went in abruptly, and thus a sort of natural roof was formed; and the sheltered place below had been the favorite play-ground of his boyhood.
Up and down this ledge he paced, now, absorbed in his own bitter thoughts, and totally unheeding the flight of time. One hour, two, three passed; and still he remained, thinking of the lost one.
Suddenly he paused. Did his ears deceive him, or did he hear voices underneath. His own steps were muffled by the velvety carpet of moss and grass that covered the place, and he walked to the outer edge and listened intently. Yes; there were voices underneath, talking in low, cautious tones. His heart gave a great throb, and he got down on his hands and knees and peered for one moment over the cliff. Right beneath were some half-dozen rough, uncouth-looking fellows, in the garb of sailors, and one of them, Black Bart, he remembered to have often seen in Judestown. Had he discovered the smugglers’ haunt at last?
Laying his head close to the ground, he could catch, at intervals, this conversation:
“Yes; he’s gone for good; cleared out when he found he must be discovered. What a pretty mess you made out of it, Bart, taking the wrong gal, after all,” said one of them.
“Well, it wasn’t my fault,” growled Black Bart. “How was I to know one from t’other? Serves the old sinner right, too, to get taken in. Curse Garnet! This comes of trusting these infernal land-sharks.”
“What a beautiful hunt they had over the beach to-day!” said another, with a low chuckle. “They’ll be at it to-morrow, too, and have their labor for their pains. Well, cap’n, does the gal still stick to her story that she ain’t the one she ought to be?”
The reply to this was given in so low a tone that Ray could not hear it, and in his intense eagerness he leaned further over to listen. But, as he did so, he lost his balance. He strove to save himself, but in vain; over he must go; and seeing there was no help for it, he took a flying leap, and landed right in the midst of the astounded freebooters!
With interjections of surprise and alarm, half a dozen bright blades instantly flashed in the moonlight; but ere any violence could be offered, the tall form of the outlaw chief interposed between them, and father and son stood face to face!
CHAPTER XXXV.
FATHER AND SON
“When lovers meet in adverse hour,
’Tis like a sun-glimpse through a shower —
A watery ray, an instant seen,
Then darkly-closing clouds between.”
– Scott.
Silently they confronted each other – those two, so nearly connected – so long separated – so strangely encountered now. Did no “still, small,” inward voice whisper to each that they were father and son? Was the voice of Nature silent, that they should gaze upon each other as strangers gaze?
Yes, even so; for although the outlaw chief started for a moment to see before him the living embodiment of himself at the same age, the emotion passed in a moment, and the strange resemblance was set down to one of those accidental likenesses that so often surprise us, and which cannot be accounted for. Ray, too, fancied this dark, daring, reckless-looking chieftain resembled himself somewhat; but the passing thought had even less effect upon him than it had on the other.
The men, still grasping their swords, had encircled Ray, and were glaring upon him with darkly-threatening eyes, as he stood boldly erect, and undauntedly confronting the smuggler-chief.
“Well,” said that personage, at last, breaking the silence, and calmly surveying the intruder from head to foot, “who the foul fiend are you, young man, that you come tumbling from the clouds among us in this fashion?”
“He is a revenue spy. Let us pitch him in the river, cap’n!” said Black Bart.
“Silence, sir! Come, my good youth, answer: What is your business here?”
“My business is, to discover the young lady you have so basely abducted. If you are the leader of this gang of cut-throats, I demand to be instantly informed where she is!” said Ray, determined to put a bold front on the matter since he was in for it.
“Whew-w!” whistled the captain, while the men set up an insolent laugh. “For coolness and effrontery, that modest demand cannot be easily beat. And what if we refuse, young sir?”
“Your refusal will not matter much, since to-morrow your retreat will assuredly be discovered, and then you will every one meet the doom your diabolical actions deserve!”
“And what may that be, most candid youth?” said the smuggler chief, with a sneer.
“Hanging!” said Ray, boldly; “a fate too good for villains base enough to forcibly carry off a helpless young girl!”
With low, but passionate imprecations of rage, the outlaws closed around Ray; and his mortal career might have ended then and there, but that the captain a second time interfered.
“Back, men!” he said, authoritatively. “Let there be no bloodshed to-night. Do you not know there are two places where a man ought to speak without interruption? – in the pulpit and on the gallows. This foolhardy fellow is as completely in our power as though he were swinging in mid-air, so he can speak with impunity. Pray proceed, my dear sir. Your conversation is mighty edifying and interesting. So, hanging is too good for some of us, eh? Now, what would you recommend to be done with us supposing you were our judge?”
“Burning at the stake, perhaps!” suggested Black Bart; “and after that to be hung, drawn and quartered!”
“This is no time for fooling!” exclaimed Ray, impetuously. “I demand to be instantly led to Miss Lawless, wherever she may be!”
“A demand I am most happy to comply with,” said Captain Reginald. “I always do like to oblige my guests when I can. This way, my young sir. But just keep your eye on him – will you? – and see that he does not give you the slip.”
“Ay, ay, cap’n,” said Bart. “Hadn’t I better bind and blindfold him?”
“No, it will be needless, as in all probability he will never set foot on this shore again.”
“I understand: ‘Dead men tell no tales!’ All right, cap’n,” said Black Bart with a demoniacal laugh, as the whole party, with their prisoner in their midst, started along the beach after the captain.
The cheering assurance that his fate was sealed did not in the slightest degree intimidate Ray as he walked along, with his fine form erect, his princely head thrown back, his full, falcon eye, with its clear, steady gaze, making the insolent stare of the outlaws fall. One thought was uppermost in his heart, thrilling through every nerve, throbbing in every pulse; he was drawing near Petronilla – would soon meet her, speak to her, comfort her in her captivity. What pair of pantaloons over the innocent and unsusceptible age of seven has not felt a decidedly queer sensation under his left ribs when about to meet the woman he loves? And if he fancied her pining away in “durance vile,” how much his eagerness to meet, to comfort, to console her would be increased! At least, it is to be hoped it would; and it had at least that effect on Ray Germaine, who, rapidly as they walked, in his burning impatience it seemed as though they were going at a snail’s pace. Even before him he beheld Pet, locked up in some desolate prison, weeping as if her heart would break, and calling on her friends to save her. Little did he dream that at that very moment she was rolling over on the floor of her room, in convulsions of laughter at the mistake Black Bart had made, and the consequent rage its discovery had thrown that worthy into.
For upward of a quarter of a mile, they walked along the long, sandy, slippery beach, and then they suddenly diverged, and turning an abrupt angle among the rocks, they came to a part of the hill overgrown with stunted spruce and cedar bushes. It was a bleak, lonely place, little frequented and with no sign of anything like a hut, or cavern, or habitation, far or near. But here the whole party came to a simultaneous halt; and the smuggler-chief, putting his fingers to his lips, gave a long, loud, sharp whistle. While Ray watched these proceedings with intense interest, part of the thick underbrush seemed to move; a huge rock was violently dislodged from its place, and a narrow, low opening, that it seemed hardly possible to enter, save on one’s hands and knees, was revealed. The narrow chasm had evidently, at some remote period, been made by a convulsion of Nature, but Art had since been employed to widen, enlarge, and conceal it. The huge rock was made to fit securely, and could only be opened from within, thus defying detection. Those in search of Pet that day had passed over the spot a dozen times, without dreaming in the most remote way that there could be an opening concealed among the apparently-solid rocks.
Captain Reginald turned to the utterly-astonished Raymond, and gazed at him for a moment, with a peculiar smile of sarcastic triumph. Then stooping his tall body, he passed through the opening, and disappeared in the seemingly interminable darkness beyond.
“You go next,” said Black Bart, to Ray.
Without a moment’s hesitation, the young man obeyed; and having entered the aperture, found himself in the same long, narrow, dark passage into which Garnet had borne Pet the evening before. Ray descended the narrow, steep steps, faintly illuminated by the dim rays of a dark-lantern held by the man who admitted them; and following the smuggler-captain through the long, rocky passage, entered, at last, the large outer-room – the rendezvous of the outlaws.
The roughly-dressed, rougher-looking men lay, or sat, scattered about in every direction, some asleep on the floor, some talking in low tones, and others amusing themselves as they pleased. In a remote corner sat the woman Marguerite, her arms dropped on a little table, her head lying on them, as if asleep. Her presence accounted for the unusual stillness of the men.
She was not asleep, however. As the new-comers entered, she lifted her head quickly, and after a fleeting glance at her husband, fixed her eyes steadfastly on the stranger. His strange resemblance to her husband was the first thing to strike her. She half-started up, dashed back her wild, disheveled black hair, and gazed upon him with a sharp, suspicious look. The men, too, stopped in their customary avocations to look at the new-comer, and scan him from head to foot with inquiring eyes. Ray’s dark, flashing eyes fearlessly encountered theirs, as he glanced vainly around the room in search of Pet.
“Another prisoner, my good lads,” said Captain Reginald, as he entered.
“Who is he, captain? who is he?” chorused half a dozen voices together.
“His name I have not yet had the pleasure of hearing. Seeing us under the rocks, and being of an inquiring spirit, he leaped down among us, and without ceremony, presented himself. Wishing to indulge the said spirit of inquiry, I persuaded him to accompany me here, and have much pleasure in making you acquainted with him now. He is very urgent to find out what has become of Miss Lawless: and as he is evidently a friend, perhaps a lover of hers, I could do no less than promise to let him see and console her in her captivity.”
This speech, which was delivered in his customary half-careless, half-mocking tone, was received with a cheer and a laugh by the men. Ray, flushed and irritated, turned to the speaker, and said, passionately:
“Let me see her, then! Where is she?”
“Easy, my dear young friend – easy! Getting excited and fierce never pays in this world. You will see the young lady time enough.”
At this moment, the woman Marguerite approached, and laying her hand on her husband’s arm, and fixing her sharp black eyes on his face, pointed to Ray, and said something in a low, rapid tone in French.
“Ya-as,” drawled Captain Reginald, passing his hand carelessly over his thick, black whiskers, and looking indifferently at the young man. “It is rather strange. I noticed the resemblance myself. How is your captive?”
Before she could reply, the curtain was pushed aside; and with wide-open eyes, flushed cheeks, and wonder, delight and incredulity on every feature, Pet stood before them. Ray’s voice had reached her ear, and half-inclined to doubt the evidence of her senses, she stood there, literally rooted to the ground. Yes, there he was – his own proud, fiery, handsome self, and forgetting everything in her delight, Pet uttered a cry of joy, and sprung toward him. He took a step forward, his face flushed with many feelings, and the next moment, for the first time, Pet was held clasped in his arms.
“Oh, Ray! dear Ray! I am so glad!” exclaimed Pet, scarcely knowing what she said, in her joy and amazement. “Dearest Ray – my gracious! I didn’t mean that; but, oh, Ray! I am so glad to see you again!”
“My own Petronilla! my dearest love!” he passionately exclaimed, bending over her.
“How on earth did you ever find me out, Ray, stowed away here under the earth?” asked Pet, whose utter amazement at seeing him here completely overmastered every other feeling. “Who told you these fellows had carried me off to this black hole?”
“No one – we only suspected it.”
“And you know, Ray, it was the greatest mistake all through. They meant to carry off Erminie – think of that! – and they took me in a mistake. I expect they are making an awful time about it up in the upper world – ain’t they? I suppose papa’s gone out of his head altogether.”
“Your father is not at home, Petronilla. Ranty is nearly distracted.”
“Ranty? Why, Ray – my goodness, Ray! is Ranty home?”
“Yes – arrived late last night.”
“Did you ever! And they had to take and carry me off at such a contrary time, and I wanted to see him so much. Well, if it’s not the funniest, most disagreeable affair, from beginning to end! I say, Ray, how did you find me out, though?”