Bes' room in de whole house!"

The music had ceased, and Noll left his seat and went groping his way along the dark, echoing hall, through the dimly-lighted dining-room to the library-door. Entering, he found his uncle still seated before the organ, but with his head bent forward upon the music-rack, and apparently lost in deep thought, for he did not look up till Noll stood beside him. Trafford made a faint attempt to smile, and asked,--

"Could Hagar find you anything fit to eat? We can't live here as at Hastings. The sea brings us our food."

Noll said something about not being hungry, and presently Trafford asked, with the stem and gloomy look upon his face,--

"Did you know that Brother Noll, your father, did a very unwise thing when he put you into my hands?"

Noll started at the strangeness of the question, and the bright color came into his face.

"Do you mean that papa did wrong?" he asked, quickly.

"Yes, so far as your good is concerned. I can be no companion for you.

You would have got more good anywhere else than here."

"Don't say that, Uncle Richard!" Noll pleaded.

"Why not?" Trafford queried, not unkindly; "it is the truth."

"Papa said that you--you--" There was such a choking in Noll's throat that he could get no further, and stopped, looking very much distressed. Trafford took the boy's hand in his own.

"My boy," he said, huskily, calling him by that t.i.tle for the first time, "I'm but a poor wreck at best. I can teach you no good, and G.o.d knows I wouldn't be the means of putting a shadow of evil in your heart. Your father says, 'Make him such a man, before G.o.d, as you know I would have him.' He asked too much, Noll. Why, boy, I can't rule myself." Noll said not a word. Uncle Richard was getting to be more of a mystery to him than Culm Rock had been. "And," continued Trafford, "we will leave the matter thus: you shall be at liberty, after the first month, to go or stay, as you like. If you go, it shall be to stay away forever; if you stay, it shall be at your own risk. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle Richard."

Trafford saw the boy's lips quiver again, and turned quickly away; the face was so much like his dead brother's. Noll came to him pretty soon, said "Good-night," and went away. Hagar guided the boy up to his room, bidding him good-night with many a.s.surances that "'tw'u'd be pleasanter to-morrow, 'nough sight!" and left him to himself. The stars shone brightly over the sea. Noll could not read his Bible verses that night, for the familiar, precious gift of mamma was locked in the trunk away round the sh.o.r.e at Culm; but he prayed with all the stronger longing for the Saviour's pity and help; and then from his bed by one of the great windows, lay listening to the moaning of the tide below, which seemed the saddest, lonesomest sound he had ever heard. And his heart ached too.

CHAPTER VI.

CULM SIGHTS.

When Noll awoke the next morning, the sun was shining brightly in. It was not until after some long minutes of yawning and rubbing his eyes, that he comprehended where he was; then, with some chills of disappointment, he remembered, and bounded up to look out the window.

The sea lay rippling, cool and fresh below. Here and there faint trails of mist floated and hovered over the waves, but the breeze was fast tearing and blowing them away. With a feeling of delight, he saw on the far horizon-line the white film of shadowy sails. It showed that there was life and stir somewhere, he thought, and it was pleasant to think of them as bound for far-off Hastings. Then he remembered Skipper Ben and the "White Gull," and wondered when he would return; and then Mr. Gray's note had not been written, he recollected.

"Well," thought Noll, "I'll find time for it to-day, I guess. I wonder if my trunks will come this morning? and--When am I to begin my studies, and who am I to recite to?" This last thought had not entered his head before. There was evidently not a school of any kind upon Culm Rock, and of course Uncle Richard was the only person capable of teaching him anything. "I wonder if he will offer to teach me?" Noll thought in perplexity, "or shall I have to ask him? I can't do that!

he's so cold and stern; and besides, I don't believe he would like the trouble. I wonder if I am to grow up like those dull Culm people?" He dressed himself, thinking busily enough of a dozen troublesome matters which had already sprung up to puzzle him, and with these in his head, went down-stairs. He found the dining-room at last, after getting into three or four empty, unoccupied rooms, and there found Hagar putting the last dishes upon the breakfast-table.

"You's lookin' brighter, honey," said she, gleefully. "Didn't dis yer ole woman tell ye so? Ki! I knowed how 'tw'u'd be las' night."

"It _does_ seem pleasanter," Noll admitted; "and where's Uncle Richard?"

"Mas'r d.i.c.k? He's in de libr'y; goin' to call him dis minnit.

Breakfas' dun waitin' for ye both, honey; an', bress de Lord! how much ye looks like yer father dis mornin'!" and Hagar caressed the boy's hair with her skinny old hands, muttering, as she gazed affectionately in his face, "You's de bery picter ob him,--de bery picter!"

So Richard Trafford thought as he answered the old housekeeper's call and entered the dining-room where his nephew was waiting with a cheery "Good-morning, Uncle Richard." The boy's sunshiny face, somehow, made the great room brighter, Trafford thought, and Hagar bustled about and poured the coffee with a lighter heart than she had had since leaving her people at Hastings.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Good morning, Uncle Richard," Page 92.]

"Jes' what's been lackin' de whole time!" she thought to herself; "Mas'r d.i.c.k wants somethin' he ken love and talk to. 'Pears like dar'll be a change in dis yer ole house afore long, de Lord willin'."

It was such a long time since the old negress had seen a young face, or heard the pleasant accents of a young voice, that she made various pretexts for lingering in the room while the two sat at the table, and though it was for the most part a silent meal, yet it was a wonderful pleasure to see Noll eat, Hagar thought. And when the two had left the table and gone to the library, she soliloquized, "Nebber thought I'd see a day like dis yer, agen! Wonder what Mas'r d.i.c.k t'inks o' de boy?

Bress de chile! if mas'r don't take to him, 'pears like he'll nebber take to nuffin. Be like habbin' poor Mas'r Noll's face afore him de whole time, an' ef he ken stan' _dat_, athought lubbin' him, I's 'feard he's dun got colder'n a stone, de whole ob him. You jes' wait an' see, Hagar!"

Noll followed his uncle from the breakfast-table into the library, hoping that he would at once say something about his books or studies, or at least hint what plans he had made concerning himself. It would be a great deal pleasanter, Noll thought, to have Uncle Richard dispose of him, even in a stern, cold way, than to do nothing at all with him and remain indifferent as to whether he studied or grew up in ignorance.

But Trafford had relapsed into one of his gloomy, absent moods, and took up a book as soon as he reached the library, without a look or word for Noll. The boy stood by one of the great windows and looked out on the sea, striving to drown his disappointment by thinking of other matters. When he had tired of this, and found that disappointment was long-lived, and would not be drowned, he loitered by the bookcases, reading the t.i.tles, now and then peering into a volume and looking over its top at his uncle, and thinking him a very cold or else a very forgetful man. When he had made the tour of the room several times, and was about to go out in despair, Trafford looked up.

"Noll, did you wish to speak to me?" he asked, abruptly.

The question came upon Noll unawares.

"Yes, if--if you were not too--too busy," he stammered. "I thought--I hoped you would say something about my books--my studies, I mean, Uncle Richard."

"What about them?"

"Why, whether I were to study with you, or by myself, or how; and whether I am to begin now, or wait a while," said Noll, wishing that his uncle would look less keenly at him.

Trafford leaned his head upon his hand and reflected a little. At last he said,--

"You will wait, Noll, till your month is up. There would be no use in beginning studies which, perchance, may end in so short a time. If, at the end of four weeks, you conclude to stay, then we will talk about study. Till then, you will wait."

Noll's blue eyes said, as plainly as eyes could, "Don't mention that month again, Uncle Richard!" but his tongue was silent, and he acquiesced in this decision by a nod of his head.

"You can fill up the time," continued his uncle, "as you like. You had best make yourself acquainted with the Rock before you decide to stay here. You will hardly explore it all in one day, I think;" and with this Trafford turned again to his book.

Noll found his hat and went out, determined to keep a brave heart if Uncle Richard _was_ cold and gloomy. If there was no other way, he would _make_ him love him, he thought, though how that was to be done he had, as yet, but a very slight idea. He went through the dining-room, and from thence found his way to the broad front piazza which faced the sea, and where, the previous evening, he had stood so lonely and homesick. Everything looked much cheerier to him now, and he ran down the sand, in front of the house, to the water's edge, resolved to see the bright side of everything which pertained to gray, barren Culm. There were stranded sh.e.l.ls and bright-hued weeds on the wet, glittering sand, which made Noll's eyes sparkle with delight.

"Wouldn't Ned's eyes open to see these!" he thought, "and wouldn't the dear old fellow like some for his museum! I'll gather a whole box full and send them up by the skipper some day."

Thinking of the skipper made Noll remember his trunks, and he wondered if the "White Gull" had continued her voyage farther down the sh.o.r.e.

"There's a whole month to explore and pick up sh.e.l.ls in," he said to himself, "and I'll take this forenoon to go around to the landing and see the skipper, if he's there."

With this thought, he started off, hoping to find the "Gull" still lying off the little wharf. The skipper seemed almost like an old friend, already; and, however rough he might be, he came from Hastings, and this fact alone made the boy long for a sight of his face. So he hastened along the sand, toward Culm, with an eye and ear for everything which he pa.s.sed. Great boulders, all green and fringed with sea-weed, were strewn everywhere,--in the yellow sand of the beach, in the line of the tide and waves which whitened themselves to foam, and murmured hoa.r.s.ely against them. In some places the great ma.s.s of the rock came down so near the water's edge that only a slender path of pebbles was left between it and the waves. In high tide, Noll thought, this narrow way must be quite covered, and he wondered why the sea did not carry it quite away. But in other places the beach was broad and smooth, quite wide enough for many hors.e.m.e.n to ride abreast. This morning the sea was peaceful and calm. Neither did it look so vast and illimitable as on the previous night. The tide was going out, stranding great quant.i.ties of glittering weeds and all sorts of curious objects, the sight of which made Noll's heart glad; but, without stopping to examine or preserve them, he hastened on, hoping to soon catch sight of the "Gull." But in this he was disappointed. No sooner had he pa.s.sed the curve of the sh.o.r.e than he saw that the skipper and his craft were gone. There were his trunks to see to, however; so he kept on, though at a slower pace, wondering if those dull-looking fishermen could tell him when the "Gull" would return.

Not half so fair or comely did the dozen houses look as in the gold of sunset. Such racked, weather-beaten dwellings Noll had never seen before. It was a mystery how they could ever stand in a high gale. Not a solitary vestige of anything green was there to enliven the barrenness. Long lines of seine were stretched upon stakes, and dangled from the sides of boulders upon the sh.o.r.e. In the sand some dirty-faced children were playing, who got up and ran away at his approach. A little farther on he came upon two fishermen dividing a basket of fish. They looked up, stared, and nodded respectfully.

"When did the skipper go?" Noll asked, pausing.

"Ben, ye mean?" asked one of the men, suspending his labor to take a more leisurely survey of the questioner.

"Yes, Ben Tate," said Noll.

"Afore sunrise," said the other. "Did ye want the skipper, lad?"