CHAPTER XII.-UNDER THE CLIFF.

COMMANDERS in the navy do not, as a rule, seck for coastguard employment unless they are getting on in life, and have to face the imminence of that dread shelving process whereby the slow flow of promotion is kept moving; but it was owing neither to advanced years nor to fear of being superseded that that smart officer, Captain Mitchell, happened to be where he was in the year of grace with which this history deals. Long before, when he had been a young lieutenant studying gunnery at Portsmouth, and Admiral Greenwood had been upon active service, and Kitty had been still in the schoolroom, he had made up his mind that if ever he could afford to marry, Kitty Greenwood, and no other, should be his wife. It was a bold determination, for his prospects of possessing means sufficient to maintain a family might at that time have been represented by a simple zero, nor could it be said that he received any encouragement from the youthful object of his affections. However, he was very sanguine by nature, and it is true that in those callow days of thoughtless merriment Miss Kitty made a great friend of him, and delighted in his society. She was grateful to him for taking so much notice of her; she admired his physical strength; she participated in his somewhat uproarious notions of fun; and when cruel fate decreed that Admiral Greenwood should retire to a life of dignified leisure, and that Lieutenant Mitchell should proceed to the Persian Gulf for his country's good, she gave him her photograph at parting, and dropped a tear upon it.

Thus it came to pass that for a matter of two years there was a happy man in the Persian Gulf, and very likely he was the only one within that torrid region of whom as much could be said. To be sure, it did not take a great deal to make him happy. He returned to his native shores to find that a benevolent uncle was dead, leaving him a fortune of a few hundreds a year; and when, almost simultaneously with this news, he was given the refusal of an appointment which would involve his residence at Kingscliff, what could he do but jump at the offer and jump for joy, like the simpleton that he

was?

XXVIII-16

""MADEMOISELLE MERSAC," ETC.

His joy was short-lived. Alas! it is not with impunity that a lover can betake himself to the Persian Gulf, nor is there any known means of preventing time from moving on, or schoolgirls from developing into young ladies during his absence. Poor Mitchell found his old playfellow as charming as ever, indeed, and vastly improved in respect of form and feature; but she had quite given up romping; she had adopted serious, though of course highly commendable, ideas about woman's mission, and she showed a very distinct dislike to being reminded of bygone pranks. This was rather disheartening; but what was a thousandfold worse was that, among the many admirers who beset her, there was one for whom she displayed a predilection which was only too unmistakable. From the very first Mitchell perceived that there could be little hope for him so long as Gilbert Segrave remained in the field. Of that popular young man he conceived an opinion so low that he very wisely refrained from giving utterance to it, and only evidenced his dislike and contempt in indirect fashions, which rather amused than annoyed his rival. If he did not propose to Miss Greenwood it was because such a proceeding would have been entirely superfluous. She (and, for that matter, the whole neighbourhood) was perfectly well acquainted with his sentiments, and he judged it better to await events patiently than to court rejection. The principal event which he awaited was nothing less than the disgrace and discomfiture of Gilbert Segrave. Upon grounds which would hardly have borne examination, he had decided that Gilbert was "a bad lot," and with a fine faith in eternal justice, he took it for granted that any one who could be so described must eventually show himself in his true colours, and meet with his deserts.

Meanwhile, he was thankful if he could obtain an occasional half-hour with Kitty when Gilbert was not present, and all the more thankful for such brief intervals of happiness because their occurrence was of the utmost rarity. It was he who, when Miss Greenwood at last consented to fulfil an oft-deferred engagement, and allow him to take her out for a sail in his twenty-ton cutter, the Zephyr, had proposed that they should make the bathing-cove at Beckton their goal-a most wily suggestion, since it

not only insured the support of the enemy (without which no suggestion would have had a chance of success), but rendered it almost imperative upon the enemy that he should await the party on shore with luncheon, instead of accompanying them on their short cruise.

Miss Huntley and Miss Joy having consented to take part in the expedition, Admiral and Mrs. Greenwood promptly cried off from it. They said that Miss Joy would be a sufficient chaperon for their daughter, and added, with some plausibility, that it was a great deal too late in the year for old people to eat their meals out of doors, and loiter about in the shade.

However, the day, when it came, proved to be one of those rare and delicious ones on which the inhabitants of Kingscliff were accustomed to wear an air of modest triumph, assuring the credulous stranger that he now knew what their winter climate was like. The wind blew lightly from the north-west, the sun shone down from an unclouded sky, the frost, which a few miles inland had silvered the grass and hardened the surface of the earth, could not penetrate beyond those sheltering heights; and even Miss Joy, who had her own reasons for preferring dry land to salt water, was compelled to admit, as she scrambled on to the deck of the Zephyr, that it would be impossible for any one to feel squeamish in such weather.

"Can't you take us for a long sail, Captain Mitchell?" the excellent woman asked. "An opportunity like this may never recur, and it seems hardly worth while to have come on board only to round that point and disembark again. Why, we shall be there in less than a quarter of an hour!"

"Not quite so soon as that," answered Mitchell, who, for his part, would have asked for nothing better than to remain all day at sea, without food or drink. "We shall have to take a good long reach out, and then beat back against the wind. I dare say it will take us the best part of an hour and a half."

Now it certainly need not have taken them anything like so long; and of that Miss Greenwood, who was a sailor's daughter, was perhaps aware; but perhaps also her kindness of heart may have prompted her to keep her suspicions to herself; for women when in love are seldom so selfish as men in a like predicament. Mitchell placed a wicker chair for her close to the tiller, which he held, and so they moved swiftly and smoothly out before the breeze, while Miss Huntley, who

had seated herself a short distance farther forward, leant over the bulwarks and contemplated the sunny expanse of blue water, with her stout companion by her side.

66

Beatrice, dear," said the latter, "do you really think that Cannes would be so much better than this?"

"I have not the most distant intention of going to Cannes," was the unexpected reply; "how could you think such a thing of me! Don't you know that we should meet all London there ?-possibly even Clementina herself. No, Matilda; in spite of all foreign inducements, I think we will remain where we are, and where nobody that we ever saw or heard of before is the least likely to turn up. Besides, I have always understood that the air of the Riviera is too dry for people who suffer from bronchitis."

Miss Joy gave a little sigh of satisfaction. She was one of those happy and amiable persons who are always satisfied when those about them are so; and this naturally made her the very worst chaperon in the world. She turned her broad back now upon the young lady who had been committed to her charge; and it may be hoped that poor Mitchell spent an hour in which pleasure was a little less neutralised by pain than was usually the case when his Kitty deigned to talk to him. Pleasant or not, it could not be indefinitely prolonged, and he was obliged at length to get about and make for the shore below Beckton, whence Brian and Gilbert had been for some time watching his manoeuvres with interest and amusement.

The bathing-cove where Gilbert was waiting to receive his guests was a warm little nook beneath overhanging red cliffs, blocks of which were continually crumbling away and becoming worn in due course by the waves into admirable natural tables. Upon one of these Gilbert had spread his cloth and made ready his feast; and soon after his preparations had been completed his elder brother sauntered down from the house and joined him.

"What on earth are they about!" exclaimed Brian, pointing to the white sail in the offing. "They seem to be going upon the same principle as the governor, who always travels up to town and down again when he wants to get into the next county."

Gilbert laughed. He had no difficulty in guessing what the steersman's reasons were for allowing himself such an exaggerated share of sea-room, and he was philosophical enough to feel quite unconcerned with regard to them.

"Mitchell is taking advantage of a fair wind," said he. "Perhaps he thinks it will chop round and bring him back if he waits long enough. The wind very often does change in these parts, you know. I think it was only yesterday that I was directing your attention to that circumstance."

The speaker's tone was good-humoured, but there was a certain subacid flavour in it which Brian noticed, not without surprise. He had not chanced to be alone with his brother since their drive home together on the previous evening, nor had anything passed between them with reference to their father's sudden recantation. That Gilbert would be in any degree disappointed thereby Brian had not for one moment supposed. Had their cases been reversed, he himself would undoubtedly have rejoiced with all his heart at the thought that he would not now be obliged to profit by an act of injustice; and it may be that he was somewhat unreasonable in expecting a thoroughly prudent and clear-sighted man to feel as he would have done.

"All's well that ends well," he remarked rather doubtfully.

"I didn't know that we had come to the end yet," said Gilbert. However, I congratulate you, so far. As for myself, I can only regret that, as I said, Miss Huntley is not the woman to espouse the younger son of a country squire. If she were, I should feel it my duty to make myself very agreeable in that quarter."

Brian strolled away without replying. He did not like jokes of that kind. Gilbert was evidently and undisguisedly in love with Kitty Greenwood, and although, to be sure, there was no immediate likelihood of his being in a position to marry her, he ought not to talk as if he could possibly marry any one else. Then, as was only natural, he fell to thinking about Beatrice Huntley and her alleged matrimonial destiny and forgot all about his brother. He was still plunged in meditation when the cutter brought up in the bay, and was only just in time to run down and help the ladies out of the small boat into which they had been transferred.

Miss Huntley's first words were very welcome to him; for he judged by them, and even more by the voice in which they were spoken, that her mood was no longer what it had been the night before.

"What a glorious day! and what a perfect place for a picnic!" she said, as she stepped lightly ashore. "Do you often have days like this in winter?"

"Very seldom," answered the truthful Brian; "still, every now and again they do come when one least expects them. I have known it quite as warm in January and February as it is now."

"You don't say so? Really I am very much tempted to buy a house in Kingscliff."

"I wish you would!" exclaimed Brian fervently.

"Thanks; but why should you wish me to do a foolish thing? The house would be locked up from year's end to year's end most likely. Just now I feel as if I should very much like to have a little city of refuge which I could make for when the world became oppressive; but in reality it isn't easy to run away, and it is even less easy to run far. Besides, all you people whom I am interested in here are sure to disperse before long, and then I shan't care to come back." "I, at all events, am a fixture," remarked Brian.

"That would be a powerful attraction, if one could feel as confident of the fact as you do; but I suspect you will find yourself drawn up to London eventually, like everybody else who has talent--or ought I, perhaps, to say genius? To be such a musician as you are, and to be satisfied with sometimes playing the organ on Sundays in a country church, is an altogether impossible state of things. You will have to compose; and you will have to make your compositions known, and so I venture to predict that you will be breathing the air of South Kensington shortly."

"Do you think so?" asked Brian. He had very little-indeed, far too little-ambition; but at that moment an absurd idea came into his head that a famous musician might have claims upon the hand of a lady of fortune to which the mere son of a country gentleman could not pretend.

"Of course I think so," replied Miss Huntley. "It is true, too, which is more to the purpose. What a happy thing it would be for certain other people whom I could name if their future were as clearly marked out for them as yours is!"

They had wandered away a short distance from the others, and Miss Huntley, as she spoke, was gazing pensively at the little group gathered round Gilbert's improvised table.

"I don't mean your brother," she added explanatorily; "I think I could tell his fortune with something like accuracy. But what is to become of that poor, pretty little

girl and that great foolish sailor I haven't an idea. I haven't an idea of what is to become of me either."

"Won't that depend very much upon yourselves?" Brian suggested.

"I don't think so. Do you suppose Captain Mitchell can help being so comically miserable, or that Kitty Greenwood can help being made ridiculously happy by the attentions of a man who, in the nature of things, will end by throwing her over? We won't discuss the future, though. Let us make the most of a smiling present and a luncheon which looks attractive. I am now going to be cheerful and 'scatter mirth around.'

She was as good as her word. It may be that her high spirits were, as she implied, assumed; but it is much more likely that they were spontaneous, for the perspicuous reader will doubtless have discovered by this time that Miss Huntley had little power of self-control, and seldom cared to exercise the little that she possessed. Be that as it may, her behaviour during the al fresco meal was very much like that of a schoolgirl out for a holiday, nor was it long before her neighbours became infected by her humour. She roused the melancholy Mitchell from his gloom, persuaded him to exhibit some of those feats of legerdemain in which, like most naval men, he was a proficient, and finally to oblige the company with a song of an exquisitely comic character. Then, later in the afternoon, when the party had broken up into twos and had separated and met again, nothing would satisfy her but that Miss Joy should dance the sailor's hornpipe.

"You know you can do it, Matilda, you have told me so over and over again, and now is the time to prove that you are no vain boaster."

"Indeed I shall do nothing of the sort!" cried Miss Joy. "A likely story, at my time of life, and with no music either! Not but what the sailor's hornpipe is one of the prettiest dances that ever was invented."

"So it is, Miss Joy," agreed Mitchell heartily; "and I'll dance it with you and whistle you a tune at the same time. Come along!"

Miss Joy declined energetically; but the general chorus of entreaty was too much for her good-nature.

"Very well, then," she said at length, "I'll just show you the step. There is nothing to laugh at. I don't suppose one of you could learn it under a month of hard practice."

So Mitchell led her out to a space of hard sand, and before he had whistled half-adozen bars, enthusiasm and professional instinct had swept all self-consciousness out of her; insomuch that if Mr. Buswell had witnessed her performance he would without any doubt have offered her then and there a lucrative engagement at the music-hall which it was his fixed intention to open in the course of the ensuing year.

Mr. Buswell was not so far favoured, but somebody else was, for at this juncture Sir Brian Segrave came slowly down from the heights and stood for a moment, leaning on his stick and surveying the group.

Gilbert, who was the first to catch sight of his father, whisked round on his heels, thrust his hands deep into his pockets and stared out to sea, with his lips pursed up. "Now we shall have a row!" he whispered to Kitty, who was standing beside him. "The chances are that he will order us all off as trespassers."

But the old gentleman was guilty of no such discourtesy. He approached softly and seated himself on a rock beside Miss Huntley, who, for her part, was in no wise disconcerted, but merely held up her hand as a warning to him not to betray his presence. Miss Joy, having her back turned towards the land, went on capering with the utmost agility; but Mitchell, who was facing her, faltered, stopped whistling, and broke into a loud, though somewhat embarrassed laugh. Then poor Miss Joy executed a swift turning movement and her cheeks, which were already flushed with exercise, assumed a rich sunset glow.

"Oh, Sir Brian," she gasped, "what must you think of me!

"My dear lady," answered Sir Brian, "I think you deserve all the applause we can give you for reminding us of a forgotten art. In my young days dancing was one of the fine arts. I am old enough to remember Taglioni and Fanny Ellsler, and that makes me a great deal too old to join a picnic of young people nowadays, does it not I was watching the workmen who are making a new path at the top of the cliff, and I thought I would just come down and have a look at you; but I shall take myself off now. I don't want to be a wet blanket."

"He has managed to be a kill-joy, at all events," muttered Gilbert to his neighbour, with a side glance at the unfortunate dancer. who was fanning herself with her pockethandkerchief, and looking the picture of misery.