A LITTLE GAME OF CARDS.
The reader will doubtless have come to the conclusion that I was by this time tired of my bargain and wished Miss Marjorie May had never come across my path. On the contrary I was well satisfied with the way things were going, in the main. The ocean has a charm for me that nothing else can equal. The bracing effect of the sea air was being felt in every fibre of my frame. Miss May's coolness was not of a kind to annoy me seriously, and much better than the opposite extreme would have been. There was nothing like a breach between us. She was merely allowing me to get the full benefit of my voyage.
I had never, at any time, feared that I would experience trouble in passing my time while on shipboard. My dread was of the days to be spent ashore, and for these she would be with me to divert my mind. The matter of the stolen ring was a mere incident of travel, and might have happened anywhere. The intrinsic value of the article was small. It would not be hard to replace it.
Miss May asked me the day after the ring was missed if I knew anything about her roommate. She said it in a way that showed suspicion and set me to thinking. "Miss Howes" had plenty of jewelry of her own, and was hardly likely to purloin theturquoise; but I knew her to be rather "off color," and more open to suspicion than a woman of different character. I asked Capt. Fraser, the commander of the boat, what the record of the stewardess was, without leading him to guess my object, and when he told me I dismissed all thoughts against her.
It might have been Miss Howes, it might have been one of the stewards. I urged Miss May to think of it as little as possible.
But this was not to be. Miss Howes told her during the day that she also had lost some jewelry, taken from a bag that, more careful than Miss May, she had locked. The article consisted of a bracelet of the value of $300, and was a serious affair. Miss May was obliged to relate her own misfortune, and Mr. Howes, when the matter was brought to his attention, went straight to the captain with the news. A vigorous questioning followed of all the steward's staff, but without result. There was nothing to clear up the mystery.
Miss Howes being certain that her bag was locked made the theft seem that of an expert, who was provided with keys. Her "uncle" thought it best after that to put the bag into his own steamer trunk, which had a peculiar lock that he did not believe could be opened except by force. Before night I discovered that a diamond stud, the only valuable jewel I ever wore, had been taken from my own room, but when I could not tell. I had not worn it on the trip, nor indeed for some time previous, and had carried it along merely because it happened to be in a small box with some cuff-studs and collar buttons. Ilocked my trunk after that, but said nothing about the loss.
The next morning when Marjorie reported, with tears, that her earrings had also disappeared, I comforted her as well as I could, but I felt that both of us had been culpably careless in leaving our valuables about so loosely.
Wesson learned of the loss of these jewels and said in a quiet way that he was going to try to unearth the rascal. He spent hours at a time in our room, listening for approaching steps in that part of the steamer, besides interviewing the ladies at length. I thought he acted as if suspicion might fall on himself, occupying quarters so near the scene of the theft, but this was of course ridiculous.
Miss May had now made the acquaintance of several passengers, and had little need of my companionship. I got into the habit of spending considerable time in the smoking room, where cigars and cards were the attraction, besides an occasional story from a passenger. Of course, I played in a few games, sometimes for fun and oftener for a small stake. My luck is usually good, and I began to be pointed out as a man ahead of the game. One evening, on a very low limit indeed, I retired $75 ahead, though at the last I really tried my best to lose.
Edgerly, who was on the opposite side, and had given up considerable of this coin, was one of the best-natured fellows I had ever seen. He was equally jolly whether luck was on his side or against him. I chummed with him more than with any of the other passengers, now that Wesson had gone into the business of amateur detective. Sometimes when I was with Miss May, Edgerly would come and sit by us, addressing an occasional remark to her. She had not learned to like him, however, and he did not find it very agreeable.
"Miss Carney has never forgiven me for offering to assist her that day she came on deck," he said to me, once. "I meant well enough, I'm sure. I knew that she was in your party, for I saw you when you came on board, and I thought it as easy to help her as to call your attention to her presence."
I made light of the matter, saying that my cousin was of a very retiring disposition and made few acquaintances when travelling. In talking with her afterwards I asked her to treat my friend as politely as she could, as I felt that she injured his feelings.
"If he was a true gentleman he never would complain of such a little thing," she answered, coldly. "But, of course, I am in your service—"
"Then do as I ask," I replied, shortly. "The next time he comes to speak to either of us, don't act toward him like a she-bear."
She promised meekly to obey; and an hour later, when I went to look for my steamer chair I found Edgerly in it, apparently on very good terms with his neighbor. They were laughing over something at the moment, which seemed to please both mightily. Rejoiced at the change I did not make my proximity known, but went back to the smoking room.
That evening the fact that we were to see our first land the next day was the general topic of conversation. Several of us who had made the voyage before were airing our wisdom, when Edgerly entered the smoking room and, slapping me a shade too familiarly on the back, asked if I was ready to give him his revenge for the times I had worsted him at poker. He was too evidently under the influence of liquor and I did not like to play with him while in that condition. When I made an excuse, however, the Albanian looked so downhearted that I altered my decision and said I would play him for anything from a glass of soda up.
There was no need of putting our stakes on the table, as we were both supposed to be gentlemen. All I wanted was to leave the steamer at St. Thomas with none of his cash in my pocket. In this I succeeded, as will appear, even better than I could have hoped.
In a quick succession of plays Edgerly convinced me that he had a hand which he could rely on. Before I hardly realized it, I had over $200 in the game. I heard a low whisper at my elbow. It was from Wesson and conveyed a warning to drop out at the earliest opportunity. Edgerly noticed what was up as quickly as I, and neither of us relished the interference. At that instant my opponent raised me $200 and having three aces I called.
Edgerly's face lit up with joy as he exhibited a straight flush of diamonds, king at the head.
Success had transformed my quiet friend. He put his hand on the cash which I counted out to him, uttering an exultant yell, as he gathered it up, $425. His exultation, or at least his manner of showing it, was quite out of place, I thought, in a game between friends; but I merely rose, and remarking that I would now take my evening stroll and smoke ondeck, went out. The moon was at its full. In my admiration for its beautiful effect on the sea I forgot for the moment the folly of which I had just been guilty. But Wesson soon joined me, as was his nightly custom, and began to talk of what had just occurred.
"Some other topic of conversation would please me better," I responded. "It is not a delightful reflection that one has been drawn into a course against which his better judgment distinctly warned him."
"But the man is a fraud," he persisted. "He did not win your money honestly, and if I were you I would make him give it back."
"Pshaw!" said I. "He's the better player, that's all. I lost my head and got over-excited. Now, we must drop the subject, as I wish to think of it no more."
Seeing that I was determined, Wesson obliged me and nothing more was said about the unpleasant matter. The next morning Edgerly was not at the breakfast table. Some time later, as I was walking the deck, he came toward me, with a good-natured greeting, though his face bore evidence of the foolish amount of liquor he had swallowed the night before.
"I'm afraid," he said, "that I won more of your money yesterday than I intended. I was astounded this morning when I counted what I had in my pocket. You must let me return at least a part of it. In a gentleman's game—"
I interrupted with the statement that I had no fault to find and that I should not listen to any proposition of that nature. My pride was hurt by asuggestion that I would crawl out of the result of my own acts.
"Oh, well, if you insist," he said, in a disappointed tone. "I am disgusted with myself for getting in that condition, which is something I seldom do. There is one thing you must do, however. Let me give you back the cash in exchange for a check or note. I would not for anything leave you short of ready money on a trip like this, and I know travellers seldom think it necessary to carry a great deal about them."
I had not thought of that, but it did occur to me as he spoke that with two persons in my party, and a journey without fixed limits, I might, as he said, run short before I reached home again. There was nothing lowering to my pride in exchanging my check for the money he had won. I thanked Mr. Edgerly and said, on reflection, that if it really made no difference to him, I would write him a check for whatever sum he pleased to exchange. And I proceeded to do so for $350, as he named that figure.
Wesson came up just as we parted, but I did not think it necessary to inform him of what had taken place. To tell the truth I did not exactly like the air of protector that he was putting on over me of late. It seemed impertinent when he warned me to leave the card table, just before my heavy loss, for I would rather a hundred times have dropped the amount than exhibit myself as a craven before my fellow passengers.
Nor did I fancy his characterization of Edgerly as a sharper. I saw nothing to justify the assertion. He had taken his losses like a man when the luck ran myway, and no one, so far as I was aware, had indicated that I stacked the cards.
I resolved to show Wesson, if he interfered any more in my affairs that I resented his conduct. He was a well meaning fellow and I had no wish to quarrel with him; but there are limits to forbearance.
"Have you told any one on the steamer that you are going to leave at St. Thomas?" Miss May asked me, soon after breakfast, when the outlines of the island were in view.
"The purser has our tickets. Why?"
"If we could get away without any of the passengers knowing, I would be very glad. I hate good-bys. Everybody will go ashore. Let us be the last to leave, and put our baggage in a separate boat."
I thought her reason a strange one, but she was to be my sole companion for a long time now, and I wished to please her in every way. I responded that I would do as she said, and even ask the purser not to mention my intention to any one.
The warm clasp she gave my hand would have repaid me for a much greater effort to suit her. Her eyes shone with a new happiness and her cheeks, which had been pale ever since the boat left New York, took on a faint tinge of color.
Lunch was served just before landing and at the table Edgerly asked me what there was to see on the island. I mentioned the points of particular interest, which to tell the truth are few, though the town of Charlotte Amélie is in itself well worth a visit.
"I shall spend the day with old friends," I added. "I feel quite like a resident here."
Only those who have sailed into this harbor willappreciate its special beauties. I had been a warm friend of the project of annexing the Danish Islands, consisting, besides St. Thomas, of St. Croix and St. John, to the possessions of the United States, ever since I was here before. While neither a jingo nor a land grabber, the value of St. Thomas from a naval standpoint is so apparent to one who will stop and think that I have hardly patience to argue the matter with opponents of the scheme.
If the United States is to maintain a navy, an occasional coaling station somewhere away from the coast is of prime importance; and these islands are offered us for an insignificant sum by Denmark, who with her crippled commerce has no longer any use for them.
St. Thomas has a harbor that can accommodate a great number of vessels, a floating dock, immense coal wharves, skilled artisans for the repair of ships, and a conformation from which could be made a small Gibraltar with reasonable expense.
The Trans-Atlantic cable lands here, giving communication with all parts of the world. In case of a war with any European country the possession of St. Thomas would be of incalculable value to us. However much one may love peace, it is poor policy in these days to be unprepared for a conflict. China is the latest instance of a great country that finds itself open to the assaults of any fifth-rate power.
When it was first proposed to sell St. Thomas to the American nation (in 1867, I believe) a vote of the inhabitants showed but 14 opposed to the plan. No European government has expressed the slightest objection to the purchase. I only hope that beforethis story is published a bill to that effect will have been signed by President M'Kinley.
"Aren't you going ashore?" asked Mr. Wesson, as he passed down the stairs to a rowboat, in which the Howes, "uncle" and "niece," and Edgerly were already seated.
Just then I heard my name called by a voice from an approaching skiff—my right name, this time.
"Camran!" came the voice. It was awkward, but I must try to explain it as an error, in case anybody noticed.
It was Edward Moron, agent of the line, whose acquaintance I had made in my former visit. I would have known his white helmet and Dundreary whiskers anywhere, but at the moment he was most inconvenient.
I waved my walking stick in reply, and as soon as he could get on board he grasped my hand. Excusing myself from Miss May for a moment, I followed him some steps away.
"Confound you!" I said, "my name is not Camran, but Camwell."
"It used to be 'Camran,' I'll take my oath to that," he replied. "But, whatever name it is, how are you? Going to stop here, I hope."
"Till evening," I answered, for I feared if I told him the truth he might tell it to other passengers, who would be sure to run across him. "Now, answer me a question. Is Eggert's place in quarantine?"
It was not, for which I was profoundly grateful. If I was to stay in St. Thomas at all I wanted to stay at the Quarantine Station, where I had been before—the only quarantine in the world where a man is happier inside than out.
I went to tell Miss May that we could go to Eggert's, and then to ask my stateroom steward to have my baggage brought on deck.
"I don't want you to tell anybody that I leave the boat here," I said, flourishing a five dollar bill in his face. "Now, mind!"
He promised. The baggage came duly up and two boats were engaged to take us directly to Eggert's.
With the lightest heart I had known for a year, I helped my fair companion down and heard the oars of our negro boatmen splash in the waters of the harbor.
BATHING IN THE SURF.
There was something really delightful in the way Eggert received me. (I am not going to put "Mister" before his name—even his wife does not do that, in ordinary conversation.) He heard "Laps," the dog, barking violently and came to the veranda to ascertain the reason.
"Do you know me?" I asked.
"Know you!" he said, grasping both my hands heartily, and looking from me to Miss May. "Of course, I know you. Where did you come from? I am so happy to see you again!"
I introduced my "cousin," and he gave her as cordial greeting as he had given me.
"Why, even Laps knows you," he said, as the dog barked and capered around us. "Mother will be very glad to see you. You came on the Madiana? How good you were to think of us and come out here!"
Mrs. Eggert soon appeared and answered my numerous questions. The eldest daughter was married and lived in the town. The children had gone there to spend the day, but would soon return.
Of course we were going to remain to dinner.
When I said we might stay a week or more, it was plain that we were very welcome. Rooms were assigned us, on one of the verandas, I having my oldone, by special request, and Miss May the one next to mine.
Eggert walked up and down with me, smiling broadly and talking of the old days when our party was quarantined there. There never was another party like it, he insisted. He produced a large photograph that he had taken of the entire group, with donkeys and negroes in the foreground.
"This was your room," he said, indicating it. "Mr. A—— had the next one, Mr. H—— the next, Mr. Mapp the other, and so on. We never had a party like that before or since. You were all so good natured and had such a good time!"
I responded that he did very well for us, which aided in our enjoyment, and that I had not thought of staying at a hotel unless his place was quarantined; which pleased him mightily.
When Miss May retired to her room to arrange her dress, Eggert asked me slyly if she was to be the future Mrs. Camran. This reminded me that I had reached a fork of the road, where I must either take this whole family into my secret or explain my change of name to my companion. The latter was decided upon as the most feasible. When she emerged and drew a chair to the edge of the veranda to admire the prospect of land and sea I told her that henceforth she must call me by a new name.
She looked inquiringly into my face.
"Do you remember suggesting on the steamer," I asked, "that as we had to lie to others we ought to tell the truth among ourselves? Well, my name is Camran, not Camwell. The family here will callme by that name, and as there is no need of deceiving you, I will admit that it is the correct one."
"But why," she asked, "did you use the other? Was it because you were afraid to trust me?"
"Remember how little I knew you," I said.
"Quite as well as I knew you," she replied, reproachfully.
"And have you told me the entire truth in all things?"
She reddened deeply.
"Your name, then, is David Camran—am I right now?" she asked.
"Donald Camran," I corrected. "That is my real name and henceforth you may call me so; unless we come across any of the Madiana's passengers, in which case consistency will compel you to use the old one."
Miss May seemed agitated by my last remark.
"How can we meet them?" she asked. "Is not our separation from them final?"
"It is supposed to be; but how can we tell that some may not follow our example and stop off at one of the islands? In that case it is quite possible we may encounter them as we proceed on our journey."
She did not seem to like the idea, but remained silent for some minutes.
"Does any person, on the Madiana, know that the name in the passenger list is not your true one?" she said, finally.
"Yes. Mr. Wesson knows; and Mr. Edgerly."
She put her hand over her mouth with a quick motion, as if to suppress a scream.
"How could you tell those casual acquaintances what you concealed from me?" she said, hoarsely.
"What difference can it make? I was introduced to Wesson in the office of the steamship agent, some time before we sailed, as I remember telling you. We exchanged cards. When he afterwards saw the way my name was spelled on the list he asked me how it happened and I ascribed it to a printer's error. I added, that as all the passengers would probably call me Camwell, it was easier for him to do so than to explain the mistake to fifty people."
"Yes," said Miss May, slowly. "And—Edgerly?"
I thought she was awfully pressing, but I wanted to keep on good terms with her and I proceeded to account for his knowledge also.
"Well, Miss Inquisitive, Edgerly's case was like this: He won a small sum of money from me at poker and was kind enough to offer to refund it, and take my check for the amount. Thinking I might want the ready money to buy you a paper of pins or something of that sort I accepted his proposal with thanks. Of course, he asked what right I had to sign the name of Donald Camran to the check, and of course, I told him of the agent's 'error' on the passenger list. There! Is there anything else you would like to know?"
Saying this I took the hand nearest me in mine, to show that my bantering was entirely good natured, and was surprised to find it quite cold.
"Marjorie!" I exclaimed. "You are ill!"
She smiled faintly and admitted that she had a slight chill. I persuaded her to take a hot drink and went at once to prepare it. When I returned she hadgone to her room and was bathing her face with cologne water. Her hair, which she had combed with care half an hour earlier, was much disarranged and her eyes were swollen.
"Come in and sit down," she said. Then, as I hesitated, she added, "Oh, you can leave the door open."
The door was a frame affair covered with mosquito bar, there being nothing more seclusive in the house. Cold weather never reaches St. Thomas at any time of year. I explained to her that to leave the door open was to invite the intrusion of insects.
"I am going to lie down," she replied. "My head aches." She drank part of the liquid I had brought. "We can't be prudish," she said, then. "The door is practically open at all times, for it is free to admit light and sound. Are you afraid to be alone with me? Perhaps you had best send for one of the servants to guard you."
"Or Laps?" I suggested, laughing.
I entered and took a chair, while she arranged herself upon the bed, with pillows to prop her up into a half-sitting posture.
"Don," she began. "You will let me call you Don?"
"You can call me what you please," I said. "Don or anything else that begins with D. 'Dear' or 'Darling,' if that suits you better."
I could not make her smile.
"Are you very, very sorry you took me with you?" she asked, earnestly.
"Not very, very."
"But—you wish you hadn't?"
I shook my head decidedly.
"Of what use am I to you?" she asked.
"Women were never made to be of use," I answered. "They are like bouquets, meant to fill the atmosphere with beauty and fragrance."
"And—do I do that—for you?"
I kissed the fingers she placed in mine. The smile came to her face at last.
"I shall be ready to begin the typewriting to-morrow," she said. "I understand the machine now, I think, well enough." (She had practiced on it in her cabin on the Madiana, several days, for some hours.) "I shall be glad when I am doing a little to earn the salary you pay me."
I made a grimace. The confounded record of my family's descent was far from interesting me at that moment.
"You earn more than your salary every hour," I said. "I am immensely in your debt already. By the way, I must pay you what I owe, before the sum gets any larger. It is quite three weeks and you have had nothing."
I counted out sixty dollars in gold coin and she took it without a word. She was always doing something strange and I had ceased to wonder. I had imagined that she would say it was too much—or that I had reckoned the date of service too far back, or something of that kind.
"Would you bathe my head a little?" she asked, indicating the cologne.
I bathed her forehead, and found it as much too hot as her hands were too cold. It had a soothing effect on me, as well as on her, this action. It mademe feel as I had not felt before, that our fortunes were really for the time running in the same mold.
"Perhaps you could sleep a little before dinner," I suggested, after a time. "Let me leave you to try."
She thanked me and before my hand left her, she put it gratefully to her lips. She did not kiss it, but rather breathed upon it a sigh of appreciation.
Thorwald and Ingeborg had just arrived from town and it was evident that the former's claim that he remembered me was founded on fact. The little girl was too young at my former visit to recollect anything about it, but she seemed to know me in a way and nodded when her mother asked if she did not remember my face in the photograph that hung in the dining room. Thorwald was now nine and about the finest specimen of a little man I have ever seen. His father could not conceal his pride in the boy, and I did not blame him.
"Ah, I am very happy with that little fellow!" he said, repeatedly.
I looked over the harbor just before dinner was served and saw the Madiana getting under way, bound for St. Croix (or Santa Cruz, as we are more apt to call it.) Eggert rigged his powerful telescope for me in the doorway, where I could see without being seen.
I easily picked out the passengers who were on deck. Mr. and Miss Howes and Mr. Edgerly were in one group. They were talking earnestly, and I guessed that Miss May and myself were quite likely the subject of their conversation.
I imagined them wondering whether our stay on shore was the result of design or accident. I hopedHowes was getting his money's worth and that his "niece" was satisfied with the fish she had caught with her Herald hook. As far as I could judge neither of them had thus far repented of their bargain.
I could hardly believe the lady had taken Miss May's ring, that she had entered my room and walked off with my shirt-stud. There was a big difference, it seemed to me, between a love affair based on natural law and a deliberate theft. The mysterious disappearance of the jewelry would probably never be accounted for and I certainly cared very little about it.
My companion came to the table, but ate sparingly. The meal suited me to perfection, especially the fresh fish, drawn that day from the Caribbean, which swarms in the most appetizing varieties. The butter came in tins from Denmark, and was not bad. There was a ragout, some cakes, plenty of oranges and "figs," as the small yellow bananas are called in the Islands, good black coffee and cheese, and a finepetit verreof brandy to top off with.
Eggert and his wife dined with us at my earnest request.
The quarantine master filled up the time with little reminiscences of my former stay, which he remembered much better than I. He pointed to the exact spot where each of the "famous party" sat at the table and laughed himself nearly into a fit as he spoke of the jokes Mapp played on the good-natured Haytian Jew we had named from his home town—"Puerta Plata." One of the guests of that day was the grandson of an American president and anotherthe son of an American senator, but that did not harm either. A more diversified party, it is safe to say, were never placed together in a quarantine, or made the time pass in livelier fashion.
When dinner ended the Madiana was out of sight. Miss May's headache had vanished and she passed the evening with me on the veranda, inspecting the stars through the telescope. They seemed brighter and larger than in America and what knowledge I had of their names and locations (gained principally three years before from the grandson of the President, who was an amateur astronomer of no mean acquirements) I imparted freely.
"You seem ever so much better in health than when we left New York," said my companion.
"I am," was my reply. "The sea always does wonders for me. I have lost entirely the nervous feeling I had before we started."
"I wish I could say as much," she said. "I dread, for instance, going to bed alone in this strange place. Those shadows dancing on the grass almost terrify me."
"I will get Eggert to put a lock on your door," I said. "He must have one somewhere and he is an excellent carpenter."
She shuddered till her teeth chattered.
"Not for the world!" she said. "I could not sleep with the door locked. I should feel as if I were choking. There is always a chance that one may be taken ill and have to call for help. With a locked door, what could I do? No, no! I will conquer my fears, which I admit are foolish ones."
"The station is surrounded by a high fence," Isaid, "and the gate cannot be unbarred from the outside. You are perfectly safe. My room is close by. If the slightest thing alarms you, you have only to speak."
She breathed with difficulty. It was plain that her terrors were genuine.
"You will come—if I call you?" she asked.
"Assuredly."
"Do you sleep as lightly as that?"
"I sleep like a child, as a general thing; but my name spoken by your voice will wake me instantly."
We went to her door, where she parted from me with little ceremony and in twenty minutes I was unconscious. The night passed without the summons from her that I half expected. In the morning she admitted that after some delay she had gone to sleep and enjoyed a good rest.
Among the articles we brought was a bathing suit for each of us, for I remembered the pleasant beach at the foot of the rocks. At five o'clock, to escape the burning rays of the sun which rises soon after, Miss May came from her room, looking as pretty as can be imagined. Her sleeveless arms were even rounder than I had anticipated, and her low-cut vest told a pleasant tale. The long black hose were filled symmetrically and the short skirt revealed just enough to make the picture enchanting.
"You look wonderfully well in that costume," she said, evidently to anticipate what I was going to say. So I contented myself with replying, "And you."
The water was quite warm enough and we enjoyed the surf hugely. What I did enjoy however, was the sight of a man on the veranda of Eggert's, apparently awaiting our return.
No less a person, in short, than Mr. Wesson, our late fellow passenger, whom we supposed forty miles away at St. Croix!
"OH! THIS NAUGHTY BOY!"
As has been intimated once or twice before, I had modified to some degree the liking I at first entertained for Mr. Wesson. He interfered in my affairs rather more than was to my taste. I had never placed myself under his guardianship. He had no right to advise or to warn me on any subject whatever. As I beheld him on the veranda at Eggert's I saw in his presence a new impertinence which I was far from relishing. If there had been any way to avoid him I would have done so gladly.
Of course Miss May had no means of knowing what was in my mind. She therefore waved her hand to Wesson as soon as she recognized his face and on coming nearer gave him a cordial welcome.
"Well, this is a surprise!" he exclaimed, glancing from one of us to the other. "You did not tell me you intended to stop at St. Thomas and I supposed you still on the Madiana."
"How comes it you are here, yourself?" I asked, pointedly. "I do not recollect that you expressed any intention of leaving the boat."
"Did I not?" he asked, as if surprised. "I could have sworn I did until you spoke. I certainly made you talk about this island, for hours at a time, and I thought you understood it. I feel almost as wellacquainted with Mr. Eggert and his family, through your descriptions, as if I had actually been here before. Being an early riser I inquired the way this morning, at the Hotel du Commerce, and walked out to see the place you had made so attractive. One of the darkies let me in at the gate, and here I am."
It was plain enough now. He had supposed I understood his intention, though he had never, I was sure, put the statement into words. He had as much right there as I, if it came to that. There was really no reason why I should treat him uncivilly.
Miss May went on to her room and I waited a moment before going to mine.
"Now you are here," I said, "you will of course take breakfast with me—or at least coffee, if you are in too much haste to wait longer."
"I'm not in the least haste," he responded, "and I accept your invitation with great pleasure."
"I've found an old friend here, Mr. Eggert," I said, as that individual appeared in a doorway. "We came on the Madiana together."
Asking Eggert to entertain him for a little while I went to dress. Miss May heard me come in and spoke through the thin partition between our rooms.
"You didn't act overjoyed to see Mr. Wesson," she said.
"No. He's a sort of 'third person makes a crowd,' you know."
"You're a selfish fellow. But wasn't that bath delightful!"
"Perfection. Did I overstate it, when I described it to you yesterday?"
"Not in the least—ough!"
"What is the matter?"
"I've stuck a pin in my finger."
"I'msosorry!"
Then followed sounds which indicated that the finger was being placed in her mouth to assuage the pain.
"What a pity you are not a girl!" she said, a little later. "You could help dress me and save a lot of trouble."
"I could help dress you without that awful alternative," I replied. "I am like the pilot in the story, I know every rock in the harbor."
"Oh, I've no doubt. Look out, like that same pilot, you're not wrecked on one of them some day."
"Can you manage a string tie?" I asked, as a more important subject was forced on my attention.
I always made a mess of that operation and this morning my luck was worse than usual.
"Easily," she said. "Do you want me to fix yours?"
"I wish you would."
"I will, with pleasure," she said. "Come in here when you are ready; or, shall I come there?"
"For goodness' sake don't come just yet!" I exclaimed, thinking I heard her step. "I am not at all prepared. In fact that tie is about the only article of dress I have on."
"Don't be afraid," came the mocking tones. "I am in much the same situation. Fifteen minutes from now we will both be ready, and then I shall be at your service."
After several minutes of silence I inquired whether any more pins had proved unruly.
"No, I'm getting on pretty well. Say, can you get at your soap?"
"Why, do you want some?"
"Yes."
"How can I get it to you?"
"Put on your morning gown and come to my door."
I did so, with the cake of soap in my hand and met my companion, somewhat similarly arrayed, holding out a bare arm. She did look to my eyes at that moment wonderfully pretty.
"Come, Marjorie," I said, dropping into the affectionate form, "you might let me in for a minute or two. You don't know how becoming that attire is."
"I know all about it. I've been looking in the glass. Hurry up and finish dressing. I will meet you on the veranda."
Wesson came along at that moment with Eggert and smiled. I resented that smile. It meant a hundred things that he had no right to surmise; besides, they weren't true.
"It is perfectly lovely here," he commented, to Eggert as much as to me. "My friend Camwell has not misrepresented it in the least."
"Camran," corrected Eggert, for which I could have punched his head. Were they going to argue that point over between them?
"Camran, I should have said," corrected Wesson. "Could I make arrangements to come out here and board while I remain on the island?"
"Damn!" I exclaimed, under my breath, but Marjorie heard me through the partition.
"What is the matter?" she asked, sympathetically. "Has something pricked you, too?"
"Yes," I said, for the couple on the veranda had moved out of hearing. "Something I don't like. What do you think that confounded Wesson is saying to Eggert?"
"I don't know."
"He wants to come out here and board."
"Well, that idea does credit to his judgment."
"But it will put me to lots of bother."
"I don't see how."
"Why, if he moves out here, you and I will have to move up to the town."
She digested this statement for a while, during which she put the finishing touches to her toilet. Then she asked if I was in suitable condition for her to come to my door.
"Come and see," I retorted. "I've got on much more than either of us had when we strolled down to the beach an hour ago. I think I heard somebody say yesterday that there was no need of being too prudish."
"But at that time I wasn't feeling well."
"And at this time I'm feeling devilish bad, myself."
She came slowly, with little stops, at which she renewed her inquiries and asked for fuller information. When she finally arrived I proved to be completely dressed with the exception of the tie and a morning coat, and we had a laugh together.
"You didn't really mean that you would leave here just on account of Mr. Wesson's coming?" she said, interrogatively, as she arranged the tie.
"Yes," I replied, holding up my head to give her fingers full play. Her breath was in my nostrils, sweet breath that made me think of meadows and new-mown hay.
"What harm can he do us?"
"He'll be continually in the way."
"He seems very polite always."
"That's just the trouble," I snarled. "If he would only get ugly I could have it out with him in a minute. If he would keep at one end of the veranda while we were at the other, all would be well. He won't do that. He'll be good natured, sociable, all that sort of hateful thing. The quarantine grounds measure only five acres and there's not room enough here for any other man, while it is your residence."
She was so near that I could have snatched a kiss before she could stop me. I would almost as soon have bitten her.
"Eggert?" she said, tentatively. "He's got to go, too, then?"
"No, I make an exception of Eggert. But Wesson—I simply can't have him here. Either he must go, or I shall."
We had passed the coffee hour, forgetting it in the pleasure of the bath and the labor of dressing. The regular breakfast was now announced. I determined to be as agreeable to Wesson as I could, but I did not think Eggert need to have placed him on the other side of Marjorie, next to her. Still, how was he to know?
"I have been talking with our host about coming out here for awhile," said Wesson, as we were breakfasting. "It is ever so much pleasanter than in the town."
He must have seen, in spite of my efforts, that I did not enthuse over the idea, for all I could say was "Ah," and wait for him to proceed.
"I hardly think I will do it, though," Wesson went on to say, eyeing me narrowly. "I have a very comfortable room at the hotel. If you don't mind my coming out for a stroll occasionally"—he looked alternately at Miss May and at me—"I think it would help me get over my lonesomeness."
Marjorie did not wait to consult me, but said she was sure he would always be welcome. She added that some literary work she and I had to do would keep us very busy for the present. To my joy, Wesson settled his plans on the spot, as he had outlined them. We were to be left alone, after all.
Soon after rising from the table Wesson started back to town. I hoped as I saw his form disappear that he did not think I had been discourteous in not endorsing his scheme to make my life a burden.
"Now," said Marjorie, brightly, as he vanished through the gate, "let us get to work. You can't imagine how happy I shall be to find myself of use after this long vacation."
I got out the memoranda required, from the bottom of a trunk, and arranged the writing machine on a little "dressmaker's table" which I had brought, folded up in a tray. It was exactly the right height, and took up hardly more room than a chess board—I mean the table, of course. For an hour I tried to put the genealogy in shape, and then threw it up with an exclamation of disgust.
"Confound the thing! I'm going to drop it for to-day," I said. "It's dryer than dust."
Marjorie obediently put away the machine at my suggestion, saying that perhaps we would begin again after lunch. I told her that the next three hours after lunch were sacred to Morpheus, and that we were now in a region where it was impossible to resist the drowsy god with impunity.
We drew our rocking chairs together and talked, and I was very happy. Sometimes I took one of her hands in mine. It was very sweet to have her there.
"It is going to be dull for you," I suggested, after a time. "Whenever you can bear it no longer say so, and we will move on."
"I am in your employ," she answered, "and shall stay or go, as you bid me."
"Marjorie," I exclaimed, suddenly, "have you ever been in love?"
"I would rather talk on some other subject," she replied, soberly.
"Then I know you have. Tell me, is he living? is he still single? do you expect to marry him?"
She closed her mouth tightly and I knew no way to open it.
"I am such a foolish fellow!" I added. "Does it surprise you to learn that? I don't want you to love any one, or even to think of any one while you are with me. I want you to like me very much indeed."
She turned her face toward me and surveyed me leisurely with those blue-gray eyes.
"I do like you," she said, kindly, "but—"
"You think I demand too much for my twenty dollars a week," I said, with an attempt to be merry. "I know I do. I realize that my contract with you was for typewriting services. There is no doubt you can hold me to that bond if you so elect. All I want to say is, I am like most contractors—and mean to better my bargain, if I can."
"What do you want?" she asked, in clear, distinct tones. "We have agreed not to lie to each other. What do you want?"
I rose and looked out upon the sea. A tiny sail was visible in the distance.
"I want a closer friendship with you," I replied, after studying the form of words.
"I think we are pretty close friends already," she said. "I would not have believed, had I been told by some fortune-teller in New York, that in ten days we would be on such perfectly intimate terms."
I resumed my seat and stretched my arms above my head.
"Why, this—this is nothing!" I said.
"I was afraid you would take that view of it," she answered, soberly, "and I hope you will permit me to resume the position called for in what you term our 'contract.'"
I was alarmed by her words and the way she spoke them. She might take a notion to carry that idea into effect, and what a dull existence I would have then.
"You certainly agreed to act as a 'companion' to me," I reminded her.
"And though I have been much more than that, you are still discontented! I have acted as if I hadknown you for years; in fact, that is exactly the way I feel. You may think me forward—I fear you do—but I have only tried to be natural. You talk to me as to a friend; I reply in the same strain. You take my hand in yours; I do not withdraw it. You call me to arrange a tie; I come as freely as if you were my brother. My head aches; I ask you into my chamber, lie down and submit to your manipulations with the cologne. If all this means nothing to you, as you say, it means very much to me. It means that I like you, trust you, believe you what you claimed to be—when you first told me of this plan—a gentleman."
She had put me in the dock and was reading a sort of left-handed indictment, to which I had no intention of pleading guilty.
"Listen, Marjorie," I replied. "You must not misunderstand. If any cloud comes between us it will not originate with me, knowingly. If you knew the life I have led hitherto—which you never will—you would realize what an ungovernable chap I am, and how much forbearance you are going to need. I am perfectly contented. If I can make you happy on this journey my greatest object will be accomplished. Tell me how I can best secure that result?"
"By not talking about it," she said, with a smile. "And by remembering at all times that the greatest chivalry is due a woman who has placed herself absolutely in your power—to make or mar her life."
"If you would only give me one kiss when you say that so prettily," I began—
"Breaking the rules already?" said Miss May, with an admonishing finger. "Oh, this naughty boy! what shall be done with him?"
WESSON BECOMES A NUISANCE.
It did not seem as if we were likely to have any serious trouble. After a couple of days we actually got down to work on the family tree and began to make some progress. Miss May showed an astonishing aptitude on the unfamiliar instrument, as well as a grasp of the subject we were trying to put into shape. Her white fingers flew over the keys, her quick mind suggested improvements in my phraseology, and she never exhibited the slightest sign of fatigue. Once at it we made a regular thing of working from seven in the morning till eleven, except for a fifteen minute rest, and made the progress that such devotion warranted, to the immense satisfaction of us both.
Those days were much alike. We always rose in time to take our ocean plunge at five and the bath never grew less exhilarating. We took coffee at half past five, breakfast at half past six, lunch at twelve, slept from one till four; strolled about the grounds or up to the town—or took a boat ride till seven; dined; talked nonsense on the veranda or played a game of whist with Eggert and his wife till ten, and then went to bed.
On Sunday we went to church, for Miss May wanted to go and I could not let her go alone. She had a nice little prayer book which she carried ina most becoming way and she was certainly the prettiest woman in the house. Wesson was there and looked devotional, though his eyes wandered in our direction more than I liked. I began to have an incipient jealousy of the man.
It got to be almost a regular thing that he came out to breakfast. Sometimes he stayed and talked with Eggert for an hour after Miss May and I had fastened ourselves down to work. Eggert liked him, which was natural, for he was always bringing something for the children. He had a cigar case, too, that was at anybody's call, filled with Havanas that were mighty good and had paid no duty, St. Thomas being a free port. Then, of course, he paid for his breakfasts, no doubt liberally. One evening when I walked up to town alone, I found him on my return chatting with Miss May in altogether too confidential a manner.
I wondered how long he intended to stay at St. Thomas. He acted quite as if he had been naturalized there. Well, we should certainly see the last of him on February 6th, when the "Pretoria" would arrive and bear us away.
Wesson stayed to dinner, though I don't know that any one invited him—probably he found the item in his bill. But he went early to town, which was better than nothing.
That evening something strange happened. I was looking over a small stock of books that Eggert kept in a case. There was not much choice, for the subjects were mostly dry ones, though I don't know as he will thank me for saying so. I happened to lighton the only modern work in the lot, after a long hunt, and brought it to the lamp.
It was entitled "Our Rival, the Rascal," if I do not mistake, and was made up of letter-press and illustrations relating to prominent criminals of the day, the work of some heads of a police department, I believe. On the principle of any port in a storm it was worth spending a half hour over. I asked Eggert where he got it and he said it had been given him by a quarantined American not many months before. He looked over my shoulder for awhile as I turned the leaves, and commented openly on the villainy in the great world outside his quarantine fence and little lighthouse, with an air of simplicity that was charming. There were the lineaments of bank robbers, murderers, sneak thieves, shoplifters, etc., by the score, evidently photographed in some cases against their will, with a sketch of the career that entitled each to this dizzy seat of fame. Once in awhile I recognized a name, that had appeared in the newspapers, but the majority were rascals with whom I was wholly unfamiliar.
Marjorie was working with a needle at the other end of the room, talking in a low tone with Mrs. Eggert. It occurred to me presently that the book might interest her, and I asked her to come to me. Mrs. Eggert went to see about some household duty and Miss May and I were left quite alone.
"Are you interested in criminology?" I asked my companion, as she took the chair by my side. "If you are, here is entertainment for you."
She stared at me vacantly, and when I turned oneof the pages to her she caught at her throat as if choking.
"Oh, this is awful!" she gurgled. "How could you show a thing like that to me?"
"My darling," I protested, soothingly, "I did not know you would feel that way. This is a book that Eggert has just lent me and I thought it might interest you."
"It is horrible!" she said, going to the open door as if for air. "The one glance I took was quite enough. What good can it do to print the faces of those unhappy people? It seems like catching a rat in a trap and bringing it out for dogs to tear."
She shut her eyes and stood there, still panting. What a nervous organism she had, to be sure!
"I will put it back on the shelf," I said, "and you shall never think of it again. I seem fated to wound your tender feelings. Dear little girl, you know I do not mean to."
But it was she who would not drop the subject.
"It is shameful to print such a book," she repeated. "It is like a proposal made just before we left America, to publish the names on the pension roll."
I had an opinion on the latter suggestion, decidedly in its favor. So I explained that it was feared there were names on the list that ought not to be there and believed that a publication of the roll would result in weeding these out.
"And at the same time expose the honest poverty of half a million brave men!" she said. "All my people were on the Southern side, but I admire courage and devotion, wherever it is found. To expose the recipient of these pensions merely in the hope of detecting a few dishonest ones is shameful! So with that awful book. Some of the men pictured there may be trying to redeem themselves. What chance will they have with their faces exhibited everywhere? Oh, Don, Don! You seem a tender hearted man. How can you endorse such a wicked, cruel thing?"
I said I did not wish to argue the matter, but I understood from the preface that only persons belonging to the criminal class by profession were pictured in the book. The miserable man who had made his one error was not in the list at all.
"But who can tell," she said, growing earnest, "that even some you mention have not repented of their acts and are trying to redeem themselves? Did you never read these words of Shakespeare?