Run to Earth - Mary Elizabeth Braddon (ebook reader .txt) š
- Author: Mary Elizabeth Braddon
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She was perpetually brooding over the strange circumstances of Georgeās
departureāperpetually asking herself why it was he had left her.
She could shape no answer to that constantly repeated question.
Had he ceased to love her? No! surely that could not be, for the change
which arises in the most inconstant heart is, at least, gradual. George
Jernam had changed in a dayāin an hour.
Reason upon the subject as she might, the conviction at which Rosamond
arrived at last was always the same. She believed that the mysterious
change that had arisen in the husband she so fondly loved was a change
in the mind itselfāa sudden monomania, beyond the influence of the
outer worldāa wild hallucination of the brain, not to be cured by any
ordinary physician.
Believing this, the wifeās heart was tortured as she thought of the
perils that surrounded her husbandās lifeāperils that were doubly
terrible for one whose mind had lost its even balance.
She watched every alteration in the atmosphere, every cloud in the sky,
with unspeakable anxiety. As the autumn gave place to winter, as the
winds blew loud above the broad expanse of ocean, as the foam-crests of
the dark waves rose high, and gleamed white and silvery in the dim
twilight, her heart sank with an awful fear for the absent wanderer.
Night and day her prayers arose to heavenāsuch prayers as only the
loving heart of woman breathes for the object of all her thoughts.
While Rosamond occupied the abode which Captain Jernam had chosen for
her, River View Cottage was abandoned entirely to the care of Mrs.
Mugby and Susan Trott, and the trim house had a desolate look in the
dismal autumn days, and the darkening winter twilights, carefully as it
was kept by Mrs. Mugby, who aired the rooms, and dusted and polished
the furniture every day, as industriously as if she had been certain of
the captainās return before nightfall.
āHe may come this night, or he may not come for a year,ā she said to
Susan very often, when Miss Trott was a little disposed to neglect some
of her duties, in the way of dusting and polishing; ābut mark my words,
Susan, when he does come, heāll come sudden, without so much as one
line of warning, or notice enough to get a bit of dinner ready for
him.ā
The day came at last when the housekeeper was gratified to find that
all her dusting and polishing had not been thrown away. Captain
Duncombe returned exactly as she had prophesied he would return,
without sending either note or message to give warning of his arrival.
He rang the bell one day, and walked into the garden, and from the
garden into the house, with the air of a man who had just come home
from a morningās walk, much to the astonishment of Susan Trott, who
admitted him, and who stared at him with eyes opened to their widest
extent, as he strode hurriedly past her.
He went straight into the parlour he had been accustomed to sit in. A
fire was burning brightly in the polished steel grate, and everything
bore the appearance of extreme comfort.
The merchant-captain looked round the room with an air of satisfaction.
āThereās nothing like a trip to the Indies for making a man appreciate
the comforts of his own home,ā he exclaimed. āHow cheery it all looks;
and a man must be a fool who couldnāt enjoy himself at home after
tossing about in a hurricane off Gibraltar for a week at a stretch. But
whereās your mistress?ā cried Joe Duncombe, suddenly, turning to the
astonished Susan. āWhereās Mrs. Jernam?āwhereās my daughter? Doesnāt
she hear her old fatherās gruff voice? Isnāt she coming to bid me
welcome after all Iāve gone through to earn more money for her?ā
Before Susan could answer, Mrs. Mugby had heard the voice of her
master, and came hurrying in to greet him.
āThank you for your hearty welcome,ā said the captain, hurriedly; ābut
whereās my daughter? Is she out of doors this cold winter day, gadding
about London streets?āor how the deuce is it she doesnāt come to give
her old father a kiss, and bid him welcome home?ā
āLorā, sir,ā cried Mrs. Mugby, āyou donāt mean to say as you havenāt
heard from Miss Rosaābegging your pardon, Mrs. Jernamābut the other
do come so much more natural?ā
āHeard from her!ā exclaimed the captain. āNot I, I havenāt had a line
from her. But heaven have mercy on us! how the woman does stare! There
isnāt anything wrong with my daughter, is there? Sheās wellāeh?ā
The captainās honest face grew pale, as a sudden fear arose in his
mind.
āDonāt tell me my daughter is ill,ā he gasped; āor worseāā
āNo, no, no, captain,ā cried Mrs. Mugby. āI heard from Mrs. Jernam only
a week ago, and she was quite well; but she is residing down in
Devonshire, where she removed with her husband last July; and I made
sure you would have received a letter telling you of the change.ā
āWhat!ā roared Joseph Duncombe; ādid my daughter go and turn her back
upon the comfortable little box her father built for herāthe place he
spent his hard-won earnings upon for her sake? So Rosy got tired of the
cottage, did she? It wasnāt good enough for her, I suppose. Well, well,
that does seem rather hard somehowāit does seem hard.ā
The captain dropped heavily down into the chair nearest him. He was
deeply wounded by the idea that his daughter had deserted the home
which he had made for her.
āBegging your pardon, sir,ā interposed Mrs. Mugby, in her most
insinuating tone, āwhich I am well aware itās not my place to interfere
in family matters; but knowing as devotion itself is a word not strong
enough to express Mrs. Jernamās feelings for her pa, I cannot stand by
and see her misunderstood by that very pa. It was no doings of hers as
she left River View, Captain Buncombe, for the place was very dear to
her; but Captain Jernam, he took it into his head all of a sudden heād
set off for foreign parts in his ship the āAlbertās horseā; and before
he went, he insisted on taking Mrs. Jernam down to Devonshire, which
burying her alive would be too mild a word for such cruelty, I think.ā
āWhat! he deserted his post, did he?ā exclaimed the captain. āRan away
from his pretty young wife, after promising to stop with her till I
came back! Now, I donāt call that an honest manās conduct,ā added the
captain, indignantly.
āNo more would any one, sir,ā answered the housekeeper. āA wild, roving
life is all very well in its way, but if a man who is just married to a
pretty young wife, that worships the very ground he walks on, canāt
stay at home quiet, I should like to know who can?ā
āSo he went to sea himself, and took his wife down to Devonshire before
he sailed, eh?ā said the captain. āVery fine goings on, upon my word!
And did Miss Rosy consent to leave her fatherās home without a murmur?ā
he asked, angrily.
āBegging your pardon, sir,ā pleaded Mrs. Mugby, āMiss Rosamond was not
the one to murmur before servants, whatever she might feel in her
heart. I overheard her crying and sobbing dreadful one night, poor
dear, when she little thought as there was any one to overhear her.ā
āDid she say anything to you before she left?ā
āNot till the night before she went away, and then she came to me in my
kitchen, and said, āMrs. Mugby, itās my husbandās wish I should go down
to Devonshire and live there, while heās away with his ship. Of course,
I am very sorry to leave the house that my dear father made such a
happy home for me, and in which he and I lived so peaceably together;
but I am bound to obey my husband, let him ask what he will. I shall
write to my dear father, and tell him how sorry I am to leave my
home.āā
āDid she say that?ā said the captain, evidently touched by this proof
of his childās affection. āThen I wonāt belie her so much as to doubt
her love for me. I never got her letter; and why George Jernam should
kick up his heels directly I was gone, and be off with his ship
goodness knows where, is more than I can tell. I begin to think the
best sailor that ever roamed the seas is a bad bargain for a husband.
Iām sorry I ever let my girl marry a rover. However, Iāll just settle
my business in London, and be off to Devonshire to see my poor little
deserted Rosy. I suppose sheās gone to live at that sea-coast village
where Jernamās aunt lives?ā
āYes, sir, Allandaleāor Allanbayāor some such name, I think, they
call the place.ā
āYes, AllanbayāI remember,ā answered the captain. āIāll try and get
through the business Iāve got on hand to-night, and be off to
Devonshire to-morrow.ā
Mrs. Mugby exerted herself to the uttermost in her endeavour to make
the captainās first dinner at home a great culinary triumph, but the
disappointment he had experienced that morning had quite taken away his
appetite. He had anticipated such delight from his unannounced return
to River View Cottage; he had pictured to himself his daughterās
rapturous welcome; he had fancied her rushing to greet him at the first
sound of his voice; and had almost felt her soft arm clasped around his
neck, her kisses on his face.
Instead of the realization of this bright dream, he had found only
disappointment.
Susan Trott placed the materials for the captainās favourite punch upon
the table after she had removed the cloth; but Joseph Duncombe did not
appear to see the cherry preparations for a comfortable evening. He
rose hastily from his chair, put on his hat, and went out, much to the
discomfiture of the worthy Mrs. Mugby.
āAfter what I went through with standing over that roaring furnace of a
kitchen-range, it does seem hard to see my sole just turned over and
played with, like, and my chicking not so much as touched,ā said the
dame. āOh, Miss Rosamond, Miss Rosamond, youāve a deal to answer for!ā
Captain Duncombe walked along the dark road between the cottage and
Ratcliff Highway at a rapid pace. He soon reached the flaring lights of
the sailorsā quarter, through which he made his way as fast as he could
to a respectable and comfortable little tavern near the Tower, much
frequented by officers of the merchant service.
He had promised to meet an old shipmate at this house, and was very
glad of an excuse for spending his evening away from home.
In the little parlour he found the friend he expected to see, and the
two sailors took their glasses of grog together in a very friendly
manner, and then parted, the captainās friend going away first, as he
had a long distance to walk, in order to reach his suburban home.
The captain was sitting by the fire meditating, and sipping his last
glass of grog, when the door was opened, and some one came into the
room.
Joseph Duncombe looked up with a start as the new-comer entered, and,
to his intense astonishment, recognized George Jernam.
āJernam!ā he cried; āyou in London? Well, this is the greatest surprise
of all.ā
āIndeed, Captain Duncombe,ā answered the other, coolly; āthe
āAlbatrossā only entered the port of
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