The Beth Book
home, however, she repeated the observation to her mother in order to
ask her what alabaster was exactly. Mrs. Caldwell flushed indignantly
at the story. "If Dr. Hardy speaks in that way of his patients to his
family, he won't succeed in his profession," she declared. "A man who
talks about his patients may be a clever doctor, but he's sure not to
be a nice man--not high-minded, you know--and certainly not a wise
one. Remember that, Beth, and take my advice: don't have anything to
do with a 'talking doctor'"--a recommendation which Beth remembered
afterwards, but only to note the futility of warnings.
Matters became very complicated in the story as it proceeded. It was
all due to some Spanish imbroglio, Beth said. Hector ran extraordinary
risks, and she was not too safe herself if things went wrong. There
were implicating documents, and emissaries of the Jesuits were on the
look-out.
One day, Charlotte's mother being away from home, Beth asked her
mysteriously if she could conceal some one in her room at night
unknown to her father.
"Easily," Charlotte answered. "He never comes up to my room."
"Then you must come and ask mamma to let me spend the day and night
with you to-morrow," Beth said. "I shall have business which will keep
me away all day, but I shall return at dusk, and then you must smuggle
me up to your room. We shall be obliged to sit up all night. I don't
know what is going to happen. Are the servants safe? If I should be
betrayed----"
"Safe not to tell you are there," said Charlotte, "and that is all
they will know. They won't tell on me. I never tell on them."
The next morning early, Charlotte arrived in Orchard Street with a
face full of grave importance, and obtained Mrs. Caldwell's consent to
take Beth back with her; but instead of having to go home to spend the
day alone waiting for Beth, as she had expected, she was sent out some
distance along the cliffs to a high hill, which she climbed by Beth's
direction. She was to hide herself among the fir-trees at the top, and
watch for a solitary rider on a big brown horse, who would pass on the
road below between noon and sunset, if all went well, going towards
the headland.
"_I_ shall be that rider," Beth said solemnly. "And the moment you see
me, take this blue missive, and place it on the Flat Rock, with a
stone on it to keep it from blowing away; then go home. If I do not
appear before sunset, here is a red missive to place on the Flat Rock
instead of the blue one, which must then be destroyed by fire. If I
return, I return; if not, never breathe a word of these things to a
living soul as you value your life."
"I would rather die than divulge anything," Charlotte protested
solemnly, and her choice of the word divulge seemed to add
considerably to the dignity of the proceedings.
They separated with a casual nod, that people might not suspect them
of anything important, and each proceeded to act her part in a
delightful state of excitement; but what was thrilling earnest to
Charlotte, calling for courage and endurance, was merely an
exhilarating play of the fancy put into practice to Beth.
By the time Charlotte arrived at the top of the hill, and had settled
herself among the firs overlooking the road below, she was very tired.
Beth had given her a bag, one of Aunt Victoria's many reticules, with
orders not to open it before her watch began. The bag had been a
burden to carry, but Charlotte was repaid for the trouble, for she
found it full of good things to eat, and a bottle of cold coffee and
cream to drink, with lumps of sugar and all complete. Beth had really
displayed the most thoughtful kindness in packing that bag. The
contents she had procured on a sudden impulse from a pastry-cook in
the town, by promising to pay the next time she passed.
After having very much enjoyed a solid Melton Mowbray pie, a sausage
in puff-pastry, a sponge-cake, a lemon cheesecake, and two crisp
brandy snaps, and slowly sipped the coffee, Charlotte felt that this
was the only life worth living, and formally vowed to dedicate herself
for ever to the Secret Service of Humanity--Beth's name for these
enterprises. She kept a careful eye on the road below all this time,
and there ran through her head the while fragments of a ballad Beth
had written, which added very much to the charm of the occasion.
"The fir-trees whisper overhead,
Between the living and the dead,
I watch the livelong day.
I watch upon the mountain-side
For one of courage true and tried,
Who should ride by this way,"
it began. When she first heard that Beth had written that ballad,
Charlotte was astonished. It was the only assertion of Beth's she had
ever doubted; but Beth assured her that any one could write verses,
and convinced her by "making some up" there and then on a subject
which she got Charlotte to choose for her.
Many things passed on the road below--teams of waggons, drawn by
beautiful big cart-horses with glossy coats, well cared for, tossing
their headland rattling the polished brasses of their harness proudly,
signs of successful farming and affluence; smart carriages with what
Beth called "silly-fool ladies, good for nothing," in them; a
carrier's cart, pedestrians innumerable, and then--then, at last, a
solitary big brown horse, ridden at a steady canter by a slender girl
in a brown habit (worn by her mother in her youth, and borrowed from
her wardrobe without permission for the occasion). The horse was a
broken-down racer with some spirit left, which Beth had hired, as she
had procured the provisions, on a promise to pay. In passing, she
waved a white handkerchief carelessly, as if she were flicking flies
from the horse, but _without relenting her speed_. This was the signal
agreed upon. Charlotte, glowing with excitement, and greatly relieved,
watched the adventurous rider out of sight; then trudged off bravely
to the Flat Rock, miles away behind the far pier, where she loyally
deposited the blue missive. The red one she destroyed by fire
according to orders.
Beth had warned her that she would be tired to death when she got in,
and had better snatch some repose in preparation for the night.
"But if I oversleep myself and am not on the look-out for you when you
come, what will you do?" Charlotte objected.
"Leave that to me," said Beth.
And Charlotte did accordingly with perfect confidence.
When she awoke the room was dark, but there was a motionless figure
sitting in the window, clearly silhouetted against the sky. Charlotte,
who expected surprises, was pleasantly startled.
"Is all safe in the west, sister?" she said softly, raising herself on
her elbow.
"Yes," was the reply, "but clouds are gathering in the north. Our hope
is in the east. Let us pray for the sunrise. You left the letter?"
"Yes. As fast as I could fly I went."
"Ah! then it will be gone by this time!" Beth ejaculated with
conviction. The Flat Rock was only uncovered at low water, and now the
tide was high. "Can you get me some food, little one, for I am
famished?" she proceeded. "I have had nothing since the morning, and
have ridden far, and have done much."
"Oh dear! oh dear!" said Charlotte. "And you got me such good things!"
"Ah! that was different," Beth rejoined.
Charlotte stole downstairs. Her father had been out seeing his
patients all day, and had not troubled about her.
She returned with chicken and ham, cold apple-tart and cream, and a
little jug of cider.
Poor Beth, accustomed to the most uninteresting food, and not enough
of that, was so exhausted by her long fast and arduous labours, that
she found it difficult to restrain her tears at the sight of such good
things. She ate and drank with seemly self-restraint, however; it
would have lowered her much in her own estimation if she had showed
any sign of the voracity she felt.
Then the watch began. Having wrapped themselves up in their walking
things to be ready for any emergency, they locked the door and opened
the window softly. They were in a room at the top of the house, which,
being next door to the Benyons, commanded the same extensive view down
the front street and a bit of Rock Street and the back street, and up
Orchard Street on the left to the church. They were watching for a
sailor in a smart yachting suit, a man-of-war's man with bare feet,
and a priest in a heavy black cloak. Beth, greatly refreshed and
stimulated by her supper and the cider, fell into her most fascinating
mood; and Charlotte listened enthralled to wonderful descriptions of
places she had visited with Hector, sights she had seen, and events
she had taken part in.
"But how is it you are not missed from home when you go away like
that?" said Charlotte.
"How is it I am not missed to-night?" Beth answered. "When you are
fully initiated into the Secret Service of Humanity you will find that
things happen in a way you would never suspect."
"I suppose it is all right and proper being so much alone with single
gentlemen," Charlotte just ventured.
"All things are right and proper so long as you do nothing wrong,"
Beth answered sententiously.
Lights began to move from room to room in the houses about them,
gigantic shadows of people appeared on white window blinds in
fantastic poses, and there was much moving to and fro as they prepared
for bed. Then one by one the lights went out, and in the little
old-fashioned window-panes the dark brightness of the sky and the
crystal stars alone were reflected. It was a fine clear night, the gas
burnt brightly in the quiet streets, there was not a soul stirring.
"Isn't it exquisite?" said Beth, sniffing the sweet air. "I am glad I
was born, if it is only for the sake of being alive at night."
After this they were silent. Then by degrees the desire for sleep
became imperative, and they both suffered acutely in their efforts to
resist it. Finally Charlotte was vanquished, and Beth made her lie
down on the bed. As she dropped off she saw Beth sitting rigidly at
the open window; when she awoke it was bright daylight, and Beth was
still there in exactly the same attitude.
"Beth," she exclaimed, "you are superhuman!"
"Ah!" said Beth, with a mysterious smile, "when you have learnt to
listen to the whispers of the night, and know what they signify as I
do, you will not wonder. Marvellous things have been happening while
you slept."
"O Beth!" said Charlotte reproachfully, "why didn't you wake me?"
"I was forbidden," Beth answered sadly. "But now watch for me. It is
your turn, and I must sleep. A yachtsman or a man-of-war's man with
bare feet, remember."
Beth curled herself up on the bed, and Charlotte, very weary and
aching all over, but sternly determined to do her duty, took her place
in the window. She had her reward, however, and when Beth awoke she
found her all on the alert, for she had seen the yachtsman. He came up
the street and hung about a little, pretending to look at the shops,
then walked away briskly, which showed Charlotte that the plot was
thickening, and greatly excited her. Beth smiled and nodded as though
well satisfied when she heard the news, but preserved an enigmatical
silence.
Then Charlotte went downstairs and smuggled her up such a good
breakfast--fried ham, boiled eggs, hot rolls with plenty of butter,
and delicious coffee--that the famishing Beth was fain to exclaim with
genuine enthusiasm--
"In spite of all the difficulty, danger, and privation we have to
endure in the Secret Service of Humanity, Charlotte, is there anything
to equal the delight of it?"
And Charlotte solemnly asseverated that there was not.
Much stimulated by her breakfast, Beth took leave of Charlotte. She
must be alone, she said, she had much to think about. She went to the