by Robert Barr
"Miss Katherine, you are dodging the question. I asked your opinion of that man's wisdom. Was he wise, or was he a fool?"
"What do you think about it? Do you think he was a fool, or a wise man?"
"Well, I asked you for your opinion first. However, I have very little hesitation in saying, that a man who marries a woman of whom he knows nothing, is a fool."
"Oh, but he was well acquainted with this woman. It was only her past that he knew nothing about."
"Well, I think you must admit that a woman's past and a man's past are very important parts of their lives. Don't you agree with me?"
"I agree with you so seldom that I should hesitate to say I did on this occasion. But I have told the story very badly. You will have to read it for yourself to thoroughly appreciate the different situations, and then we can discuss the matter intelligently."
"You evidently think the man was very noble in refusing to hear anything about the past of the lady he was interested in."
"I confess I do. He was noble, at least, in refusing to let a third party tell him. If he wished any information he should have asked the lady himself."
"Yes, but supposing she refused to answer him?"
"Then, I think he should either have declined to have anything more to do with her, or, if he kept up his acquaintance, he should have taken her just as she was, without any reference to her past."
"I suppose you are right. Still, it is a very serious thing for two people to marry without knowing something of each other's lives."
"I am tired of walking," said Miss Earle, "I am now going to seek comfort in the luxuriousness, as you call it, of my steamer chair."
"And may I go with you?" asked the young man.
"If you also are tired of walking."
"You know," he said, "you promised the whole afternoon. You took the forenoon with The Siege, and now I don't wish to be cheated out of my half of the day."
"Very well, I am rather interested in another story, and if you will take The Siege of London, and read it, you'll find how much better the book is than my telling of the story."
George Morris had, of course, to content himself with this proposition, and they walked together to the steamer chairs, over which the gaily coloured rugs were spread.
"Shall I get your book for you?" asked the young man, as he picked up the rugs.
"Thank you," answered Miss Earle, with a laugh, "you have already done so," for, as he shook out the rugs, the two books, which were small handy volumes, fell out on the deck.
"I see you won't accept my hint about not leaving the books around. You will lose some precious volume one of these days."
"Oh, I fold them in the rugs, and they are all right. Now, here is your volume. Sit down there and read it." "That means also, 'and keep quiet,' I suppose?"
"I don't imagine you are versatile enough to read and talk at the same time. Are you?"
"I should be very tempted to try it this afternoon."
Miss Earle went on with her reading, and Morris pretended to go on with his. He soon found, however, that he could not concentrate his attention on the little volume in his hand, and so quickly abandoned the attempt, and spent his time in meditation and in casting furtive glances at his fair companion over the top of his book. He thought the steamer chair a perfectly delightful invention. It was an easy, comfortable, and adjustable apparatus, that allowed a person to sit up or to recline at almost any angle. He pushed his chair back a little, so that be could watch the profile of Miss Katherine Earle, and the dark tresses that formed a frame for it, without risking the chance of having his espionage discovered.
"Aren't you comfortable?" asked the young lady, as he shoved back his chair.
"I am very, very comfortable," replied the young man.
"I am glad of that," she said, as she resumed her reading.
George Morris watched her turn leaf after leaf as he reclined lazily in his chair, with half-closed eyes, and said to himself, "Shop-girl or not, past or not, I'm going to propose to that young lady the first good opportunity I get. I wonder what she will say?"
"How do you like it?" cried the young lady he was thinking of, with a suddenness that made Morris jump in his chair.
"Like it?" he cried; "oh, I like it immensely."
"How far have you got?" she continued.
"How far? Oh, a great distance. Very much further than I would have thought it possible when I began this voyage."
Miss Earle turned and looked at him with wide-open eyes, as he made this strange reply.
"What are you speaking of?" she said.
"Oh, of everything - of the book, of the voyage, of the day."'
"I was speaking of the book," she replied quietly. "Are you sure you have not fallen asleep and been dreaming?"
"Fallen asleep? No. Dreaming? Yes."
"Well, I hope your dreams have been pleasant ones."
"They have."
Miss Earle, who seemed to think it best not to follow her investigations any further, turned once more to her own book, and read it until it was time to dress for dinner. When that important meal was over, Morris said to Miss Earle: "Do you know you still owe me part of the day?"
"I thought you said you had a very pleasant afternoon."
"So I had. So pleasant, you see, that I want to have the pleasure prolonged. I want you to come out and have a walk on the deck now in the starlight. It is a lovely night, and, besides, you are now halfway across the ocean, and yet I don't think you have been out once to see the phosphorescence. That is one of the standard sights of an ocean voyage. Will you come?"
Although the words were commonplace enough, there was a tremor in his voice which gave a meaning to them that could not be misunderstood. Miss Earle looked at him with serene composure, and yet with a touch of reproachfulness in her glance. "He talks like this to me," she said to herself, "while he is engaged to another woman."
"Yes," she answered aloud, with more firmness in her voice than might have seemed necessary, "I will be happy to walk on the deck with you to see the phosphorescence."
He helped to hinder her for a moment in adjusting her wraps, and they went out in the starlit night together.
"Now," he said, "if we are fortunate enough to find the place behind the after-wheel house vacant we can have a splendid view of the phosphorescence."
"Is it so much in demand that the place is generally crowded?" she asked.
"I may tell you in confidence," replied Mr. Morris, "that this particular portion of the boat is always very popular. Soon as the evening shades prevail the place is apt to be pre-empted by couples that are very fond of - "
"Phosphorescence," interjected the young lady.
"Yes," he said, with a smile that she could not see in the darkness, "of phosphorescence."
"I should think," said she, as they walked towards the stern of the boat, "that in scientific researches of that sort, the more people who were there, the more interesting the discussion would be, and the more chance a person would have to improve his mind on the subject of phosphorescence, or other matters pertaining to the sea."
"Yes," replied Morris. "A person naturally would think that, and yet, strange as it may appear, if there ever was a time when two is company and three is a crowd, it is when looking at the phosphorescence that follows the wake of an ocean steamer."
"Really?" observed the young lady, archly. "I remember you told me that you had crossed the ocean several times."
The young man laughed joyously at this repartee, and his companion joined him with a laugh that was low and musical.
"He seems very sure of his ground," she said to herself. "Well, we shall see."
As they came to the end of the boat and passed behind the temporary wheel-house erected there, filled with debris of various sorts, blocks and tackle and old steamer chairs, Morris noticed that two others were there before them standing close together with arms upon the bulwarks. They were standing very close together, so close in fact, that in
the darkness, it seemed like one person. But as Morris stumbled over some chains, the dark, united shadow dissolved itself quickly into two distinct separate shadows. A flagpole stood at the extreme end of the ship, inclining backwards from the centre of the bulwarks, and leaning over the troubled, luminous sea beneath. The two who had taken their position first were on one side of the flag-pole and Morris and Miss Earle on the other. Their coming had evidently broken the spell for the others. After waiting for a few moments, the lady took the arm of the gentleman and walked forward. "Now," said Morris, with a sigh, "we have the phosphorescence to ourselves."
"It is very, very strange," remarked the lady in a low voice. "It seems as if a person could see weird shapes arising in the air, as if in torment."
The young man said nothing for a few moments. He cleared his throat several times as if to speak, but still remained silent. Miss Earle gazed down at the restless, luminous water. The throb, throb of the great ship made the bulwarks on which their arms rested tremble and quiver.
Finally Morris seemed to muster up courage enough to begin, and he said one word -
"Katherine." As he said this he placed his hand on hers as it lay white before him in the darkness upon the trembling bulwark. It seemed to him that she made a motion to withdraw her hand, and then allowed it to remain where it was.
"Katherine," he continued, in a voice that he hardly recognised as his own, "we have known each other only a very short time comparatively; but, as I think I said to you once before, a day on shipboard may be as long as a month on shore. Katherine, I want to ask you a question, and yet I do not know - I cannot find - I - I don't know what words to use."
The young lady turned her face towards him, and he saw her clear-cut profile sharply outlined against the glowing water as he looked down at her. Although the young man struggled against the emotion, which is usually experienced by any man in his position, yet he felt reasonably sure of the answer to his question. She had come with him out into the night. She had allowed her hand to remain in his. He was, therefore, stricken dumb with amazement when she replied, in a soft and musical voice -
"You do not know what to say? What do you usually say on such an occasion?"
"Usually say?" he gasped in dismay. "I do not understand you. What do you mean?"
"Isn't my meaning plain enough? Am I the first young lady to whom you have not known exactly what to say?"
Mr. Morris straightened up, and folded his arms across his breast; then, ridiculously enough, this struck him as a heroic attitude, and altogether unsuitable for an American, so he thrust his hands deep in his coat pockets.
"Miss Earle," he said, "I knew that you could be cruel, but I did not think it possible that you could be so cruel as this."
"Is the cruelty all on my side, Mr. Morris?" she answered. "Have you been perfectly honest and frank with me? You know you have not. Now, I shall be perfectly honest and frank with you. I like you very much indeed. I have not the slightest hesitation in saying this, because it is true, and I don't care whether you know it, or whether anybody else knows it or not."
As she said this the hope which Morris had felt at first, and which had been dashed so rudely to the ground, now returned, and he attempted to put his arm about her and draw her to him; but the young lady quickly eluded his grasp, stepping to the other side of the flag-pole, and putting her hand upon it.
"Mr. Morris," she said, "there is no use of your saying anything further. There is a barrier between us; you know it as well as I. I would like us to be friends as usual; but, if we are to be, you will have to remember the barrier, and keep to your own side of it."
"I know of no barrier," cried Morris, vehemently, attempting to come over to her side.
"There is the barrier," she said, placing her hand on the flag-pole. "My place is on this side of that barrier; your place is on the other. If you come on this side of that flag-pole, I shall leave you. If you remain on your own side, I shall be very glad to talk with you."
Morris sullenly took his place on the other side of the flag-pole. "Has there been anything in my actions," said the young lady, "during the time we have been acquainted that would lead you to expect a different answer?"
"Yes. You have treated me outrageously at times, and that gave me some hope."
Miss Earle laughed her low, musical laugh at this remark.
"Oh, you may laugh," said Morris, savagely; "but it is no laughing matter to me, I assure you."
"Oh, it will be, Mr. Morris, when you come to think of this episode after you get on shore. It will seem to you very, very funny indeed; and when you speak to the next young lady on the same subject, perhaps you will think of how outrageously I have treated your remarks to-night, and be glad that there are so few young women in the world who would act as I have done."
"Where did you get the notion," inquired George Morris, "that I am in the habit of proposing to young ladies? It is a most ridiculous idea. I have been engaged once, I confess it. I made a mistake, and I am sorry for it. There is surely nothing criminal in that."
"It depends."
"Depends on what?"
"It depends on how the other party feels about it. It takes two to make an engagement, and it should take two to break it."
"Well, it didn't in my case," said the young man.
"So I understand," replied Miss Earle. "Mr. Morris, I wish you a very good evening." And before he could say a word she had disappeared in the darkness, leaving him to ponder bitterly over the events of the evening.
Sixth Day
In the vague hope of meeting Miss Earle, Morris rose early, and for a while paced the deck alone; but she did not appear. Neither did he have the pleasure of her company at breakfast. The more the young man thought of their interview of the previous evening, the more puzzled he was.
Miss Earle had frankly confessed that she thought a great deal of him, and yet she had treated him with an unfeelingness which left him sore and bitter. She might have refused him; that was her right, of course. But she need not have done it so sarcastically. He walked the deck after breakfast, but saw nothing of Miss Earle. As he paced up and down, he met the very person of all others whom he did not wish to meet. "Good morning, Mr. Morris," she said lightly, holding out her hand.
"Good morning," he answered, taking it without much warmth.
"You are walking the deck all alone, I see. May I accompany you?"
"Certainly," said the young man, and with that she put her hand on his arm and they walked together the first two rounds without saying anything to each other. Then she looked up at him, with a bright smile, and said, "So she refused you?"
"How do you know?" answered the young man, reddening and turning a quick look at her.
"How do I know?" laughed the other. "How should I know?"
For a moment it flashed across his mind that Miss Katherine Earle had spoken of their interview of last night; but a moment later he dismissed the suspicion as unworthy.
"How do you know?" he repeated.
"Because I was told so on very good authority."
"I don't believe it."
"Ha, ha! now you are very rude. It is very rude to say to a lady that she doesn't speak the truth."
"Well, rude or not, you are not speaking the truth. Nobody told you such a thing."
"My dear George, how impolite you are. What a perfect bear you have grown to be. Do you want to know who told me?"
"I don't care to know anything about it."
"Well, nevertheless, I shall tell you. You told me."
"I did? Nonsense, I never said anything about it."
"Yes, you did. Your walk showed it. The dejected look showed it, and when I spoke to you, your actions, your tone, and your words told it to me plainer than if you had said, 'I proposed to Miss Earle last night and I was rejected.' You poor, dear innocent, if you don't brighten up you will tell it to the whole ship."
"I am sure, Blanche, that I am very much obliged to you for the interest you take in me. Ve
ry much obliged, indeed."
"Oh no, you are not; and now, don't try to be sarcastic, it really doesn't suit your manner at all. I was very anxious to know how your little flirtation had turned out. I really was. You know I have an interest in you, George, and always will have, and I wouldn't like that spiteful little black-haired minx to have got you, and I am very glad she refused you, although why she did so I cannot for the life of me imagine."
"It must be hard for you to comprehend why she refused me, now that I am a partner in the firm." Blanche looked down upon the deck, and did not answer.
"I am glad," she said finally, looking up brightly at him with her innocent blue eyes, "that you did not put off your proposal until to-night. We expect to be at Queenstown to-night some time, and we leave there and go on through by the Lakes of Killarney. So, you see, if you hadn't proposed last night I should have known nothing at all about how the matter turned out, and I should have died of curiosity and anxiety to know."
"Oh, I would have written to you," said Morris. "Leave me your address now, and I'll write and let you know how it turns out."
"Oh," she cried quickly, "then it isn't ended yet? I didn't think you were a man who would need to be refused twice or thrice."
"I should be glad to be refused by Miss Earle five hundred times."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, five hundred times, if on the five hundredth and first time she accepted."
"Is it really so serious as that?"
"It is just exactly that serious."
"Then your talk to me after all was only pretence?"
"No, only a mistake."
"What an escape I have had!"
"You have, indeed."
"Ah, here comes Miss Earle. Really, for a lady who has rejected a gentleman, she does not look as supremely happy as she might. I must go and have a talk with her."
"Look here, Blanche," cried the young man, angrily, "if you say a word to her about what we have been speaking of, I'll - "
"What will you do?" said the young lady, sweetly.
Morris stood looking at her. He didn't himself know what he would do; and Blanche, bowing to him, walked along the deck, and sat down in the steamer chair beside Miss Earle, who gave her a very scant recognition.