Derval Hampton: A Story of the Sea, Volume 1 (of 2)Grant, James
General
Derval Hampton: A Story of the Sea, Volume 1 (of 2)
Grant, James
Fiction
"As little as you are to be a digger," she replied, while caressing
his hand, which, though manly, was a white one.
"The dream seemed a long, long one, Mary, though doubtless short
enough in reality, so true it is, a writer tells us, that there is a
drowsy state between sleeping and waking, when you dream more in five
minutes with your eyes half open and yourself half conscious of
everything passing around you, than you would do in five nights with
your eyes fast closed and your senses wrapt in perfect
unconsciousness! So it was with me Mary; but the mountains seemed to
sink; the scene to change and resolve itself into sweet and peaceful
Finglecombe, with all its orchards and the Bay shining in the rising
moon, even as it is doing now; but the heap of golden ore was still
before me--till I awoke with a start, to find myself again--a beggar!"
"But beside we," said Mary, with a little laugh that ended in a sigh;
"and if your dream will bear reading at all, Greville, it must be
that your riches lie, not in California, but here in Finglecombe;
though what they are, or where they are, unless they be Derval and
me," she added, kissing him, "goodness only knows."
But full of his vivid dream, Greville Hampton made no response
immediately. He sat lost in thought, passively gazing on the Bay,
glittering and rippling beyond the boundary of his garden where a
fallen beech of vast dimensions lay, with its end half-hidden in a
rose-tree that was a mass of bloom. There was silence in the
place--a drowsy summer silence; the sounds of the distant cob-village
came faintly mingled with the lap, lap, lapping of the waves upon the
shore.
"Supper waits, ma'am," said Patty Fripp, suddenly appearing in the
porch, which was a veritable bower of roses and Virginia-creeper, for
Patty--a robust and honest countrywoman, who was nurse to Master
Derval, cook and housemaid by turns, and all together at times, and
had come as a retainer to his father's house in better days, when she
was a blooming lass of eighteen--was close on the wrong side of fifty
now, but true as steel in their altered fortunes to Greville Hampton
and her mistress.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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