Castle Nowhere | Page 8

one of her little white gowns, half finished, and sat sewing in its light, while the old negress came and went about her household tasks.
'So you can sew?' said the visitor.
'Of course I can. Aunt Shadow taught me,' answered the water-maiden, threading her needle deftly. 'There is no need to do it, for I have so many dresses; but I like to sew, don't you?'
'I cannot say that I do. Have you so many dresses then?'
'Yes; would you like to see them? Wait.'
Down went the little gown trailing along the floor, and away she flew, coming back with her arms full,--silks, muslins, laces, and even jewelry. 'Are they not beautiful?' she asked, ranging her splendor over the chairs.
'They are indeed,' said Waring, examining the garments with curious eyes. 'Where did you get them?'
'Father brought them. O, there he is now, there he is now! I hear the oars. Come, Lorez.'
She ran out; the old woman hastened, carrying a brand from the hearth; and after a moment Waring followed them. 'I may as well face the old rogue at once,' he thought.
The moon had not risen and the night was dark; under the balcony floated a black object, and Lorez, leaning over, held out her flaming torch. The face of the old rogue came out into the light under its yellow handkerchief, but so brightened and softened by loving gladness that the gazer above hardly knew it. 'Are you there, darling, safe and well?' said the old man, looking up fondly as he fastened his skiff.
'Yes, father; here I am and so glad to see you,' replied the water-maiden, waiting at the top of the ladder. 'We have a visitor, father dear; are you not glad, so glad to see him?'
The two men came face to face, and the elder started back. 'What are you doing here?' he said sternly.
'Looking for my property.'
'Take it, and begone!'
'I will, to-morrow.'
All this apart, and with the rapidity of lightning.
'His name is Jarvis, father, and we must keep him with us,' said Silver.
'Yes, dear, as long as he wishes to stay; but no doubt he has home and friends waiting for him.'
They went within, Silver leading the way. Old Fog's eyes gleamed and his hands were clinched. The younger man watched him warily.
'I have been showing Jarvis all my dresses, father, and he thinks them beautiful.'
'They certainly are remarkable,' observed Waring, coolly.
Old Fog's hands dropped, he glanced nervously towards the visitor.
'What have you brought for me to-night, father dear?'
'Nothing, child; that is, nothing of any consequence. But it is growing late; run off to your nest'
'O no, papa, you have had no supper, nor--'
'I am not hungry. Go, child, go; do not grieve me,' said the old man in a low tone.
'Grieve you? Dear papa, never!' said the girl, her voice softening to tenderness in a moment. 'I will run straight to my room.--Come, Lorez.'
The door closed. 'Now for us two,' thought Waring.
But the cloud had passed from old Fog's face, and he drew up his chair confidentially. 'You see how it is,' he began in an apologetic tone; 'that child is the darling of my life, and I could not resist taking those things for her; she has so few books, and she likes those little lumps of sugar.'
'And the Titian picture?' said Waring, watching him doubtfully.
'A father's foolish pride; I knew she was lovelier, but I wanted to see the two side by side. She is lovelier, isn't she?'
'I do not think so.'
'Don't you?' said old Fog in a disappointed tone. 'Well, I suppose I am foolish about her; we live here all alone, you see: my sister brought her up.'
'The Aunt Shadow who has gone away?'
'Yes; she was my sister, and--and she went away last year,' said the old man. 'Have a pipe?'
'I should think you would find it hard work to live here.'
'I do; but a poor man cannot choose. I hunt, fish, and get out a few furs sometimes; I traffic with the Beaver people now and then. I bought all this furniture in that way; you would not think it, but they have a great many nice things down at Beaver.'
'It looks like steamboat furniture.'
'That is it; it is. A steamer went to pieces down there, and they saved almost all her furniture and stores; they are very good sailors, the Beavers.'
'Wreckers, perhaps?'
'Well I would not like to say that; you know we do have terrible storms on these waters. And then there is the fog; this part of Lake Michigan is foggy half the time, why, I never could guess: but twelve hours out the twenty-four the gray mist lies on the water here and outside, shifting slowly backwards and forwards from Little Traverse to Death's Door, and up into this curve, like a waving curtain. Those silks,