Read Ebook: The Vedanta-Sutras with the Commentary by Sankaracarya Sacred Books of the East Volume 1 by Sankaracarya Commentator Thibaut G George Translator

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STELLA ROSEVELT.

"A star Which moves not 'mid the moving heavens alone, A smile among dark frowns--a gentle tone Among rude voices, a beloved light, A solitude, a refuge, a delight."--SHELLEY.

A noble steamer was laboriously plowing the turbulent waters of the great Atlantic, heaving, and struggling, and creaking with every revolution of her gigantic screw, for the waves were rolling high--"mountain high"--in very truth. The huge dark masses of water would swell and rise up like a great black wall, reaching, it seemed, almost to the angry, leaden sky above, then sweeping down with mighty force, thunder upon the decks of that great vessel, making it shudder to its very center, sending it down, down into the yawning depths, as if eager, in venomous spite, to blot it out of existence.

Fifteen were all they numbered, while there were about twice as many in the steerage; and well it was that there were no more to share the horrors of that dreadful voyage.

It had been a very gloomy passage, a severe storm arising the second day out, which had increased in violence until now--the fifth day--it appeared as if all the elements had conspired to work destruction upon the stanch ship which was faithfully battling with the cruel waves and toiling to bear its precious freight of human souls safely into port.

It was a forlorn little company that sat shivering and trembling in the close saloon--only five, all out of the fifteen who had not succumbed to the seasickness--and these five had the appearance, with their pale, pinched faces, their heavy eyes and disordered attire, of feeling anything but comfortable or well.

An old man of perhaps sixty years, his hair and beard white as snow, his face sallow and wrinkled, his eyes anxious and sunken, sat upon the floor--indeed, it was impossible to sit anywhere else--braced against a stationary seat, and clinging to one of the iron posts which supported the roof of the saloon. He was wrapped in a heavy shawl and two elegant rugs; his soft hat was drawn down over his forehead, and he seemed entirely oblivious of everything about him.

Two spinsters, companions and sisters, lay upon cushions flat upon the floor, and, also wrapped in their rugs, looked not unlike two huge bags of wool rolling from side to side with every motion of the boat.

Another man had crept into a corner, where he tried to keep himself from pitching about by clinging to a rope which he had fastened to an immovable table.

The only other occupant of the place was a little fair-haired maiden of perhaps fifteen or sixteen years.

She was small and delicate, and was sitting, or trying to sit, upon the floor, not far from the old gentleman before mentioned.

She was wrapped in a thick woolen shawl, and her head was covered with a crimson hood, so that not much could be seen of her, save the fair, pale face, with its sad, appealing blue eyes, which looked out from beneath masses of shining golden ringlets that had strayed from her hood and lay upon her white forehead. She had a sensitive mouth, a pretty, rounded chin, a small, straight nose, and altogether, had she possessed something of color and less of sadness in her face, would have been considered wondrously fair to look upon.

This little waif, with her child-like countenance, her pathetic eyes, and her patient, uncomplaining spirit, was traveling alone.

There was not a soul on board that vessel whom she had ever seen before the day of sailing.

An orphan--her father, and the only relative on whom she could depend, had died just three months previous--she was going to the United States, to some distant connections who had consented to take her until she was of age and teach her to earn her own living.

She had been put in the care of the captain by the people with whom she had been staying since her father's death, and he was to deliver her to the strangers to whom she was going.

Some strange magnetism had attracted her toward the old gentleman with the white hair and beard of whom we have spoken, and near to whom she was now sitting.

She had hovered about him ever since the first day of the voyage, not in an obtrusive way, but as if she liked to be near him--as if there were something trustworthy and protective about him.

Perhaps one reason for this was that her seat had been next his at table--while they had been able to sit at the table--and once or twice, when she could not attract the attention of the steward, he had handed her what she wanted, and helped her bountifully to fruit when otherwise she would have been neglected.

When the storm came on with such violence that those not confined to their berths were obliged to take to the floor of the saloon for safety, she had crept as near to him as she dared, and though she had sat there all day long, he had never spoken to her once, or appeared to heed her presence, but remained, instead, wrapped in his own thoughts.

Suddenly the ship rose upon a mighty wave--up, up she went, until every trembling passenger held his breath with awe; then she plunged headlong down into the raging deep, with a sinking, sickening sensation that chilled the blood and made the flesh creep with fear.

The next moment another terrific wave struck her, with a noise like the roar of a hundred cannon, and with a force which made her quiver like a frightened creature from stem to stern; and in the dread pause which followed, and which was fraught with horrible suspense, the little maid clasped her small hands and cast an appealing glance at her gray-haired companion.

He, seeing it, smiled grimly as he asked, in rather a gruff tone:

"Afraid, sis?"

Before she could answer him the vessel gave another tremendous lurch, and she was rudely precipitated almost into the arms of her questioner.

He caught her just in time to save her from being dashed against the iron post by which he was sitting, and when she had recovered her breath a little, he put her gently down beside him, keeping one strong arm around her to save her from a second fall.

"This is pretty rough weather. Are you afraid?" he asked again, and looking with something of pity down upon her white face.

"Unless what?" the old man queried, as she hesitated and glanced shyly up at him, a tinge of color coming into her cheeks.

"Unless it is God's will," she answered, reverently.

A sneer curled her companion's lip at this reply; but the sweet eyes looking up into his seemed to touch some tender memory, for it quickly died, and he repressed the skeptical words to which he was about to give utterance.

"Don't you believe that God rules the storm, and that He will take care of us?"

The man by her side felt the gentle rebuke, but he evaded it by saying:

"And what is that?"

"Fire."

He felt the thrill of fear that went vibrating through her whole frame as he uttered the dread word, and appeared to regret having added to her apprehension, for he continued, reassuringly:

"But an accident of that kind rarely happens nowadays, and where everything is so carefully conducted as on these large steamers. There, sit close beside me," he went on, as still another thundering mass of water swept over them; "lean against me--so. I will keep my arm about you, and you will be safer than sitting by yourself. But how does it happen that you are traveling alone?"

"My father and mother are dead," she answered, with the same appealing look that had touched him before, while her lips quivered over the sad sentence. "I had no friends in England, and so I am going to live with a cousin of my mother's in America."

"What is your name, little girl?"

The "little girl" flushed rosily at this question--as what maiden of fifteen or sixteen would not at this slur upon her proudly attained "teens?"--while she thought he need not have asked if he had taken pains to look at the passenger list; but she replied:

"Star Rosevelt Gladstone."

A startled, almost agonized gleam shot into the old man's eyes, and his face seemed to shrivel, until he looked ninety instead of sixty, as the young girl, in her sweet, clear tone, uttered this name.

"Star Rosevelt!" he repeated, with pale lips, while his voice sounded weak and far away.

"Yes, sir," she said, not noticing his emotion; "or rather my real name is Stella, but mamma called me Star always;" and her voice faltered as she spoke of her dead mother.

Her companion did not answer, and the roar of the elements increasing, further conversation was out of the question, even had they been so disposed, which they appeared not to be.

The old man's head dropped upon his broad chest, and he seemed suddenly to have forgotten his companion, the angry waters, the rolling vessel, and everything else in his own sad thoughts.

Darkness began to settle down upon them. The storm raged on; the spinsters moaned and rolled upon their comfortless couches; the man in the corner swore and raved as he was rudely jostled about, with no prospect of rest or sleep; while the gray-haired man and the fair-haired maid, encircled by his strong arm, sat side by side, silent, yet less forlorn than their comrades by reason of a feeling of companionship, until the young girl's blue eyes closed, her golden head sank unconsciously upon the broad shoulder, and she slept sweetly and tranquilly the whole night through, a smile on her red lips, a sense of comfort and protection in her young heart.

When morning broke and Star Gladstone awoke, she found herself lying upon a heap of rugs, a pillow underneath her head and a soft robe covering her.

The sun was shining brightly into the saloon, where, only a few hours before, all had been so dark and dismal; the sky was beautifully clear and blue, without a vestige of the angry clouds which had so threatened ship and life a little while ago, and the good vessel was riding the gradually subsiding waves with strong and steady pulsations, which seemed to have almost a sense of victory in their throbbings, while the terrors of the night seemed only a troubled dream of the past.

She arose from her soft couch with a murmured "How kind!" as she realized who had made her so comfortable, and went below to her state-room to make her toilet.

After a refreshing bath she brushed out her long, abundant hair until it shone like strands of finest gold; then gathering it in her two hands, she plaited it into one massive braid, leaving the ends loose like a great golden tassel, and tying them with a broad blue ribbon.

Then she substituted a charming little blue hood edged with white for the thick crimson one which she had worn all night, wrapped a soft gray shawl about her shoulders, and went up on deck looking as bright and sunny as the morn itself.

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