The Christian - A Story
Caine, Hall, Sir, 1853-1931
English
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THE CHRISTIAN
_A STORY_
BY HALL CAINE
_Author of The Manxman_
* * * * *
_The period of the story is the last quarter of the nineteenth century.
No particular years are intended. The time occupied by the incidents of
the first Book is about six months, of the Second Book about six months,
of the Third Book about six months; then there is an interval of half a
year, and the time occupied by the incidents of the Fourth Book is about
six weeks. An Author's Note will be found at the end._
* * * * *
THE CHRISTIAN.
FIRST BOOK.
_THE OUTER WORLD_.
I.
On the morning of the 9th of May, 18--, three persons important to this
story stood among the passengers on the deck of the Isle of Man steamship
_Tynwald_ as she lay by the pier at Douglas getting up steam for the
passage to Liverpool. One of these was an old clergyman of seventy, with
a sweet, mellow, childlike face; another was a young man of thirty, also
a clergyman; the third was a girl of twenty. The older clergyman wore a
white neckcloth about his throat, and was dressed in rather threadbare
black of a cut that had been more common twenty years before; the younger
clergyman wore a Roman collar, a long clerical coat, and a stiff,
broad-brimmed hat with a cord and tassel. They stood amidships, and the
captain, coming out of his room to mount the bridge, saluted them as he
passed.
"Good morning, Mr. Storm."
The young clergyman returned the salutation with a slight bow and the
lifting of his hat.
"Morning to you, Parson Quayle."
The old clergyman answered cheerily, "Oh, good morning, captain; good
morning."
There was the usual inquiry about the weather outside, and drawing up to
answer it, the captain came eye to eye with the girl.
"So this is the granddaughter, is it?"
"Yes, this is Glory," said Parson Quayle. "She's leaving the old
grandfather at last, captain, and I'm over from Peel to set her off, you
see."
"Well, the young lady has got the world before her--at her feet, I ought
to say.--You're looking as bright and fresh as the morning, Miss Quayle."
The captain carried off his compliment with a breezy laugh, and went
along to the bridge. The girl had heard him only in a momentary flash of
consciousness, and she replied merely with a side glance and a smile.
Both eyes and ears, and every sense and every faculty, seemed occupied
with the scene before her.
It was a beautiful spring morning, not yet nine o'clock, but the sun
stood high over Douglas Head, and the sunlight was glancing in the
harbour from the little waves of the flowing tide. Oars were rattling up
the pier, passengers were trooping down the gangways, and the decks fore
and aft were becoming thronged.
"It's beautiful!" she was saying, not so much to her companions as to
herself, and the old parson was laughing at her bursts of rapture over
the commonplace scene, and dropping out in reply little driblets of
simple talk--sweet, pure nothings--the innocent babble as of a mountain
stream.
She was taller than the common, and had golden-red hair, and magnificent
dark-gray eyes of great size. One of her eyes had a brown spot, which
gave at the first glance the effect of a squint, at the next glance a
coquettish expression, and ever after a sense of tremendous power and
passion. But her most noticeable feature was her mouth, which was
somewhat too large for beauty, and was always moving nervously. When she
spoke, her voice startled you with its depth, which was a kind of soft
hoarseness, but capable of every shade of colour. There was a playful and
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