CHAPTER VIII.Paid in His Own Coin.In Suspense: a Gleam of Comfort.—Darkness Returns.—The Rock Ahead.—Sir William Lends His Binocular.—Reappearance of an Old Enemy.—A New Danger.—Out of the Frying-pan.Peter found himself below this time, in the broad passage, furnished with seats and tables for writing, which divided the passengers' cabins. Above, he heard a confused stir and bustle of excitement, the trampling of feet, the creaking and rattle of chains, orders shouted in English and Hindustani. From the absence of all vibration, in the vessel, it was evident that she had been brought to.Why?Peter guessed the cause only too easily: the unhappy Miss Davenport had indeed succeeded in carrying out her rash design. She had jumped overboard, and the captain had stopped the engines and lowered a boat in the hope of picking her up before she sank! And he himself—why was he skulking below like this? He had only too much reason to fear that he must have been awitness of the fatal leap; and, instead of plunging overboard to the rescue as a hero ought, had rushed down here ignominiously.Had he been observed? Was his connection with the tragedy suspected? Could he venture up on deck and inform himself? He tried, but his nerve failed him, and he sank into one of the chairs in a state of almost unbearable suspense.Just at this moment, he saw the skirts of a muslin gown appear at the head of the broad companion which led to the dining-saloon. Someone, a girl evidently, was descending. Presently he saw her fully revealed—it was Miss Tyrrell.Perhaps he had never been so glad to see her before. She was a friend, a dear friend. She, at least, would sympathise with him, would understand that it was not his fault if he had been too late to avert a catastrophe. She was coming to him. Her eyes were friendly and pitiful as they sought his. She, at least, did not turn from him!"How pale, how terribly pale you look!" she said. "You must nerve yourself to see her—it cannot be long now!""Has she been brought on board yet?" he gasped. "Is—is there any hope?""We shall know very soon. It is possible you may find that all is at an end.""Ah! you think so? But—but no one will say it wasmyfault, will they? I—I was ready to make any sacrifice—only somehow, when the moment comes, I am apt to lose my presence of mind.""Yes, I know," she said feelingly; "you are not quite yourself yet, but I know you would make the sacrifice if your duty demanded it. But she may have taken advantage of your absence to free herself and you from all obligation, may she not?"This suggestion comforted Peter."Shemusthave done!" he said. "Yes, of course. I could not be expected to prevent it, if I wasn't there; and I wasn't, when it came to the point. But, Miss Tyrrell, do you think that it is really all over? She—she may come round after all!""She may—but of course, if it is true that she is engaged to another, she can have no possible claim onyou."What a sensible right-minded way this girl had of looking at things! thought Peter, not for the first time."Why, of course she can't!" he cried. "And itistrue. She is engaged—to a fellow of the name of Alfred.""You know that as a fact?" she exclaimed."I know it from her own lips, and I need not say that I should be the last person to wish to—er—upset so desirable an arrangement.""Why—whydidn't you tell me all this before?" she inquired."I—I didn't think it would interest you," he replied.Here, to Peter's utter astonishment, she covered her face with her hands."Not interest me!" she murmured at last. "Oh, how could you—howcouldyou keep this from me? Can't you see—can't you guess what a difference it has made in my feelings?"It might be very dull of him, but he couldnotperceive why the fact of Miss Davenport's engagement to Alfred should affect Miss Tyrrell so strangely as this!"I may call you 'Peter' now," she said. "Oh, Peter,howhappy you have made me! Why did you keep silence so long? It was too quixotic! Don't you understand even yet?""No," said Peter blankly, "I'm afraid I don't.""Then, if you are really so diffident, I—I must tell you that if you were to ask a certain question once more, I might—I don't say I should, but I might—meet it with a different answer!""Good heavens!" he ejaculated, involuntarily."But you must not ask me yet—not just yet. I must have time to consider. I must tell papa before I decide anything. Youwillwait a little longer, won't you, Peter?""Yes," he said, feeling limp, "I'll wait. I'd rather!"She smiled radiantly upon him, and then fled lightly up the companion, leaving him with fresh cause for uneasiness. He could no longer doubt that, for some reason, she expected him to propose to her, which it seemed he had already, in one of those confounded extra minutes, been unprincipled enough to do! Now she had gone to inform her father, the Judge, and he would have the disagreeable task of disabusing them before long!At this point he started, believing that he was visited by an apparition; for a cabin-door opened, and Miss Davenport came out and stood before him.But she was so obviously flesh and blood—andso dry—that he soon saw that all his anxiety on her account had been superfluous."Then you—you didn't jump overboard after all?" he faltered, divided between relief and annoyance at having been made to come back, as it were, on false pretences."You know who prevented me, and by what arguments!" she said, in a low strained voice."DoI?" he said, helplessly."Who should, if you do not? Did not you implore me not to leave you, and declare that, if I would only have courage and wait, we should be happy even yet? And Ididwait. For what, I ask you, Peter Tourmalin—forwhat?""It's really no use askingme," he said, "for I've no idea!""I waited—to discover that all this time you have had a secret understanding with another; that you are about to transfer your fickle affections to—to that fair girl! Don't deny it, Peter! I was listening. I see it all—all!""I wish to goodnessIdid!" he said. "I never was in such a muddle as this in my life. I can only assure you that if that young lady really imagines that I am, or can be, anything more to her than a friend, she is entirely mistaken. I was justabout to go up and explain as much to her father!""You are not deceiving me?" she asked, earnestly. "You aresure?""I will swear it, if you wish!" he replied."No," she said, relenting visibly, "your word is enough. I do believe you, and I am almost happy again. So long as you do not desert me, even Alfred loses half his terrors!""Exactly," he said; "and now, if you will excuse me, I'll just run up on deck and settle this other business."He went up to the hurricane-deck, and found the ship had anchored. In front was a huge barren rock, with lines of forts, walls, and telegraph poles; and at its base, a small white town huddled. They had arrived at Gibraltar, which accounted for the absence of motion.As he stood there, taking this in, he was accosted by Sir William Tyrrell, who thrust his arm through Peter's in a friendly manner."My dear boy," said the Judge heartily, "Violet has just told me the good news. I can only say that I am delighted—most delighted! I have always felt a warm interest in you, ever since that affair of——""Of the monkey," said Peter. "I am very glad to hear it, Sir William; but—but I ought to tell you that I am afraid Miss Tyrrell was—a little premature. She misinterpreted a remark of mine, which, in point of fact, referred to somebody else altogether.""Then you have no more reason than before for assuming that yourfiançéehas thrown you over. Am I to understand that?""No more reason than before," admitted Peter."And your uncertainty still continues? Very unsatisfactory, I must say! I do think, my dear fellow, that, in your position, you should have been more careful to refrain from betraying any interest in Violet until you knew that you were free to speak. As it is, you may have cast a shadow upon her young life that it will take years to dispel!"Peter's heart sank into his boots for very shame at this gentle and almost paternal reproof."Yes," continued the worthy Judge, "Violet is a high-minded girl, scrupulously sensitive on points of honour; and, unless the young lady you are under a semi-engagement to should release you of her own free will, I know my daughter too well todoubt that she will counsel you to fulfil your contract and renounce all hope so far as she is concerned."Peter felt a little easier."I—I am prepared to do that," he said."Well, I don't say myself that I go quite so far as she does; but strictly, no doubt, a promise is a promise, and should be kept at all hazards. You have done all that a man can honourably do to put himself right. You have written to this young lady, so I understand, informing her of the change in your sentiments, and offering, nevertheless, to redeem your promise if she insisted upon it. I think that was the general purport of your letter?"Here was one more evil fruit of his extra time! What would Sophia think, or say, or do, if such a letter as that ever came to her knowledge? Fortunately, that at least was impossible!"You have some grounds," the Judge went on, "for assuming that the lady has already treated the contract as non-existent—a person called Alfred, I think my daughter said?""No, that was a mistake," explained Peter. "Alfred is engaged to quite a different person.""Well, in any case, it is quite possible that youmay obtain your release when you meet her; and your suspense will soon be over now. Miss—er—Pincher, is it?—will probably be on board the ship before many minutes. I see the boats are putting out from the harbour already.""What!" cried Peter, with the terrible conviction darting through his mind that Sir William spoke the bare truth.Sophia had said something about meeting him at Gibraltar; but if she had done so during the real voyage, how could he have the meeting all over again, with this ghastly variation? If he could only remember whether she had come out, or not! It was singular, incomprehensible! But his memory was a blank on such a vital fact as this!"Would you like to have my field-glass for a moment?" said Sir William, considerately.Peter took it, and the next moment the binocular fell from his nerveless hands. He had seen only too clearly the familiar form of Sophia seated in the peaked stern of a small craft, which a Spanish boatman was "scissoring" through the waves towards theBoomerang."Come, courage!" said the Judge kindly, as he picked up his glass and wiped the lenses."Don't be nervous, my boy. You don't know what she may have to say to you yet, you know!""No, I don't!" he groaned. "I—I think I ought to go down to the gangway and meet her," he added, tremulously,—not that he had any intention of doing so, but he wanted to be alone.Before the Judge could even express his approbation of Peter's course, Tourmalin was down on the saloon-deck seeking a quiet spot wherein to collect his thoughts.Before he could find the quiet spot, however, he almost ran into the arms of the matron from Melbourne, whom he had not seen since the episode of the music-room."A word with you, Mr. Tourmalin!" she said."I—I really can't stop now," stammered Peter. "I—I'm expecting friends!""I, too," she said, "am expecting a relation, and it is for that reason that I wish to speak to you now. My brother, who has been staying at Gibraltar on account of his health, will be as determined as I am to trace and punish the infamous calumny upon the name and career of our honoured parent.""I daresay, madam," said Peter,—"I daresay. Very creditable to you both—but I really can't stop just now!""You appear to forget, sir, that, unless you can satisfactorily establish your innocence, my brother will certainly treat you as the person primarily responsible for an atrocious slander!""A slander—upon your father!...Me?" said the indignant Peter. "Why, I neverheardof the gentleman!""Denial will not serve you now," she said. "I have not only your own admissions in the music-room, but the evidence of more than one trustworthy witness, to prove that you circulated a report that my dear father—one of the most honoured and respected citizens of Melbourne—began his Colonial career as—as a transported convict!"After all, as the hapless Peter instantly saw, hemighthave said so, for anything he knew, in one of those still unexhausted extra quarters of an hour!"If I said so, I was misinformed," he said."Just so; and in our conversation on the subject, you mentioned the name of the person who used you as his mouthpiece to disseminate hismalicious venom. What I wish to know now is, whether you are prepared or not to repeat that statement?"Peter recollected now that he had used expressions implicating Mr. Perkins, although merely as the origin of totally different complications."I can't positively go so far as that," he said. "I—I made the statement generally.""As you please," she said. "I can merely say that my brother, whom I expect momentarily, is, although an invalid in some respects, a powerful and determined man; and unless you repeat in his presence the sole excuse you have to offer, he will certainly horsewhip you in the presence of the other passengers. That is all, sir!""Thank you—it's quite enough!" murmured Peter, thinking that Alfred himself could hardly be much more formidable; and he slipped down the companion to the cabin-saloon, where he found Miss Davenport anxiously expecting him."He is here," she whispered. "I have just seen him through the port-hole.""What—the old lady's brother!" he replied."He hasnosister who is an old lady. I mean Alfred.""Alfred?" he almost yelped. "Alfredhere!""Of course he is here. Is not his battalion quartered at Gibraltar? You knew it; we were to meet him here!""I didn't, indeed—or I should never have come!" he protested."Don't let us waste words now. He is here; he will demand an explanation from you. He has his pistol with him—I could tell by the bulge under his coat. We must both face him; and the question is, What are you going to say?"Peter thrust his hands through his carefully-parted hair:"Say?" he repeated. "I shall tell him the simple, straightforward truth. I shall frankly admit that we have walked, and sat, and talked together; but I shall assure him, as I can honestly, that during the whole course of our acquaintance I have never once regarded you in any other light but that of a friend.""And you suppose that, knowing how I have changed, he will believe that!" she cried. "He will fire long before you can finish one of those fine sentences!""In that case," suggested Peter, "why tell him anything at all? Why not spare him, poorfellow, at all events for the time? It will only upset him just now. Let him suppose that we are strangers to one another; and you can break the truth to him gently when you reach England, you know. I 'm sure that'smuchthe more sensible plan!"She broke into strange mirthless laughter."Your prudence comes too late," she said. "You forget that the truth was broken to him some days ago, in the letter I wrote from Brindisi.""You wrote and broke it to him at Brindisi!" cried Peter. "What induced you to dothat?""Why,you!" she retorted. "You insisted that it was due to him; and though I knew better than you what the effect would be, I dared not tell you the whole truth. I wanted to end the engagement, too; and I scarcely cared then what consequences might follow. Now they are upon us, and it is useless to try to escape them. Since wemustdie, let us go up on deck and get it over!""One moment," he said; "Alfred can wait a little. I—I must go to my cabin first, and put on a clean collar."And with this rather flimsy pretext, he again made his escape. He made up his mind what todo as he rushed towards his cabin. He could hardly have been anything like an hour on board theBoomerangas yet; he had to get through at least another three before he could hope for deliverance. His only chance was to barricade himself inside his cabin, and steadfastly refuse to come out, upon any consideration whatever, until he was released by the natural expiration of time.He sped down the passage, and found, to his horror, that he had forgotten the number of his berth. However, he knew where it ought to be, and darted into an open door, which he fastened securely with hook and bolt, and sank breathless on one of the lower berths."You seem in a hurry, my friend!" said a voice opposite; and Peter's eyes, unused at first to the comparative dimness, perceived that a big man was sitting on the opposite berth, engaged in putting on a pair of spiked cricket-shoes. He had bolted himself inside the cabin with Mr. Perkins!
Paid in His Own Coin.
In Suspense: a Gleam of Comfort.—Darkness Returns.—The Rock Ahead.—Sir William Lends His Binocular.—Reappearance of an Old Enemy.—A New Danger.—Out of the Frying-pan.
Peter found himself below this time, in the broad passage, furnished with seats and tables for writing, which divided the passengers' cabins. Above, he heard a confused stir and bustle of excitement, the trampling of feet, the creaking and rattle of chains, orders shouted in English and Hindustani. From the absence of all vibration, in the vessel, it was evident that she had been brought to.Why?
Peter guessed the cause only too easily: the unhappy Miss Davenport had indeed succeeded in carrying out her rash design. She had jumped overboard, and the captain had stopped the engines and lowered a boat in the hope of picking her up before she sank! And he himself—why was he skulking below like this? He had only too much reason to fear that he must have been awitness of the fatal leap; and, instead of plunging overboard to the rescue as a hero ought, had rushed down here ignominiously.
Had he been observed? Was his connection with the tragedy suspected? Could he venture up on deck and inform himself? He tried, but his nerve failed him, and he sank into one of the chairs in a state of almost unbearable suspense.
Just at this moment, he saw the skirts of a muslin gown appear at the head of the broad companion which led to the dining-saloon. Someone, a girl evidently, was descending. Presently he saw her fully revealed—it was Miss Tyrrell.
Perhaps he had never been so glad to see her before. She was a friend, a dear friend. She, at least, would sympathise with him, would understand that it was not his fault if he had been too late to avert a catastrophe. She was coming to him. Her eyes were friendly and pitiful as they sought his. She, at least, did not turn from him!
"How pale, how terribly pale you look!" she said. "You must nerve yourself to see her—it cannot be long now!"
"Has she been brought on board yet?" he gasped. "Is—is there any hope?"
"We shall know very soon. It is possible you may find that all is at an end."
"Ah! you think so? But—but no one will say it wasmyfault, will they? I—I was ready to make any sacrifice—only somehow, when the moment comes, I am apt to lose my presence of mind."
"Yes, I know," she said feelingly; "you are not quite yourself yet, but I know you would make the sacrifice if your duty demanded it. But she may have taken advantage of your absence to free herself and you from all obligation, may she not?"
This suggestion comforted Peter.
"Shemusthave done!" he said. "Yes, of course. I could not be expected to prevent it, if I wasn't there; and I wasn't, when it came to the point. But, Miss Tyrrell, do you think that it is really all over? She—she may come round after all!"
"She may—but of course, if it is true that she is engaged to another, she can have no possible claim onyou."
What a sensible right-minded way this girl had of looking at things! thought Peter, not for the first time.
"Why, of course she can't!" he cried. "And itistrue. She is engaged—to a fellow of the name of Alfred."
"You know that as a fact?" she exclaimed.
"I know it from her own lips, and I need not say that I should be the last person to wish to—er—upset so desirable an arrangement."
"Why—whydidn't you tell me all this before?" she inquired.
"I—I didn't think it would interest you," he replied.
Here, to Peter's utter astonishment, she covered her face with her hands.
"Not interest me!" she murmured at last. "Oh, how could you—howcouldyou keep this from me? Can't you see—can't you guess what a difference it has made in my feelings?"
It might be very dull of him, but he couldnotperceive why the fact of Miss Davenport's engagement to Alfred should affect Miss Tyrrell so strangely as this!
"I may call you 'Peter' now," she said. "Oh, Peter,howhappy you have made me! Why did you keep silence so long? It was too quixotic! Don't you understand even yet?"
"No," said Peter blankly, "I'm afraid I don't."
"Then, if you are really so diffident, I—I must tell you that if you were to ask a certain question once more, I might—I don't say I should, but I might—meet it with a different answer!"
"Good heavens!" he ejaculated, involuntarily.
"But you must not ask me yet—not just yet. I must have time to consider. I must tell papa before I decide anything. Youwillwait a little longer, won't you, Peter?"
"Yes," he said, feeling limp, "I'll wait. I'd rather!"
She smiled radiantly upon him, and then fled lightly up the companion, leaving him with fresh cause for uneasiness. He could no longer doubt that, for some reason, she expected him to propose to her, which it seemed he had already, in one of those confounded extra minutes, been unprincipled enough to do! Now she had gone to inform her father, the Judge, and he would have the disagreeable task of disabusing them before long!
At this point he started, believing that he was visited by an apparition; for a cabin-door opened, and Miss Davenport came out and stood before him.
But she was so obviously flesh and blood—andso dry—that he soon saw that all his anxiety on her account had been superfluous.
"Then you—you didn't jump overboard after all?" he faltered, divided between relief and annoyance at having been made to come back, as it were, on false pretences.
"You know who prevented me, and by what arguments!" she said, in a low strained voice.
"DoI?" he said, helplessly.
"Who should, if you do not? Did not you implore me not to leave you, and declare that, if I would only have courage and wait, we should be happy even yet? And Ididwait. For what, I ask you, Peter Tourmalin—forwhat?"
"It's really no use askingme," he said, "for I've no idea!"
"I waited—to discover that all this time you have had a secret understanding with another; that you are about to transfer your fickle affections to—to that fair girl! Don't deny it, Peter! I was listening. I see it all—all!"
"I wish to goodnessIdid!" he said. "I never was in such a muddle as this in my life. I can only assure you that if that young lady really imagines that I am, or can be, anything more to her than a friend, she is entirely mistaken. I was justabout to go up and explain as much to her father!"
"You are not deceiving me?" she asked, earnestly. "You aresure?"
"I will swear it, if you wish!" he replied.
"No," she said, relenting visibly, "your word is enough. I do believe you, and I am almost happy again. So long as you do not desert me, even Alfred loses half his terrors!"
"Exactly," he said; "and now, if you will excuse me, I'll just run up on deck and settle this other business."
He went up to the hurricane-deck, and found the ship had anchored. In front was a huge barren rock, with lines of forts, walls, and telegraph poles; and at its base, a small white town huddled. They had arrived at Gibraltar, which accounted for the absence of motion.
As he stood there, taking this in, he was accosted by Sir William Tyrrell, who thrust his arm through Peter's in a friendly manner.
"My dear boy," said the Judge heartily, "Violet has just told me the good news. I can only say that I am delighted—most delighted! I have always felt a warm interest in you, ever since that affair of——"
"Of the monkey," said Peter. "I am very glad to hear it, Sir William; but—but I ought to tell you that I am afraid Miss Tyrrell was—a little premature. She misinterpreted a remark of mine, which, in point of fact, referred to somebody else altogether."
"Then you have no more reason than before for assuming that yourfiançéehas thrown you over. Am I to understand that?"
"No more reason than before," admitted Peter.
"And your uncertainty still continues? Very unsatisfactory, I must say! I do think, my dear fellow, that, in your position, you should have been more careful to refrain from betraying any interest in Violet until you knew that you were free to speak. As it is, you may have cast a shadow upon her young life that it will take years to dispel!"
Peter's heart sank into his boots for very shame at this gentle and almost paternal reproof.
"Yes," continued the worthy Judge, "Violet is a high-minded girl, scrupulously sensitive on points of honour; and, unless the young lady you are under a semi-engagement to should release you of her own free will, I know my daughter too well todoubt that she will counsel you to fulfil your contract and renounce all hope so far as she is concerned."
Peter felt a little easier.
"I—I am prepared to do that," he said.
"Well, I don't say myself that I go quite so far as she does; but strictly, no doubt, a promise is a promise, and should be kept at all hazards. You have done all that a man can honourably do to put himself right. You have written to this young lady, so I understand, informing her of the change in your sentiments, and offering, nevertheless, to redeem your promise if she insisted upon it. I think that was the general purport of your letter?"
Here was one more evil fruit of his extra time! What would Sophia think, or say, or do, if such a letter as that ever came to her knowledge? Fortunately, that at least was impossible!
"You have some grounds," the Judge went on, "for assuming that the lady has already treated the contract as non-existent—a person called Alfred, I think my daughter said?"
"No, that was a mistake," explained Peter. "Alfred is engaged to quite a different person."
"Well, in any case, it is quite possible that youmay obtain your release when you meet her; and your suspense will soon be over now. Miss—er—Pincher, is it?—will probably be on board the ship before many minutes. I see the boats are putting out from the harbour already."
"What!" cried Peter, with the terrible conviction darting through his mind that Sir William spoke the bare truth.
Sophia had said something about meeting him at Gibraltar; but if she had done so during the real voyage, how could he have the meeting all over again, with this ghastly variation? If he could only remember whether she had come out, or not! It was singular, incomprehensible! But his memory was a blank on such a vital fact as this!
"Would you like to have my field-glass for a moment?" said Sir William, considerately.
Peter took it, and the next moment the binocular fell from his nerveless hands. He had seen only too clearly the familiar form of Sophia seated in the peaked stern of a small craft, which a Spanish boatman was "scissoring" through the waves towards theBoomerang.
"Come, courage!" said the Judge kindly, as he picked up his glass and wiped the lenses."Don't be nervous, my boy. You don't know what she may have to say to you yet, you know!"
"No, I don't!" he groaned. "I—I think I ought to go down to the gangway and meet her," he added, tremulously,—not that he had any intention of doing so, but he wanted to be alone.
Before the Judge could even express his approbation of Peter's course, Tourmalin was down on the saloon-deck seeking a quiet spot wherein to collect his thoughts.
Before he could find the quiet spot, however, he almost ran into the arms of the matron from Melbourne, whom he had not seen since the episode of the music-room.
"A word with you, Mr. Tourmalin!" she said.
"I—I really can't stop now," stammered Peter. "I—I'm expecting friends!"
"I, too," she said, "am expecting a relation, and it is for that reason that I wish to speak to you now. My brother, who has been staying at Gibraltar on account of his health, will be as determined as I am to trace and punish the infamous calumny upon the name and career of our honoured parent."
"I daresay, madam," said Peter,—"I daresay. Very creditable to you both—but I really can't stop just now!"
"You appear to forget, sir, that, unless you can satisfactorily establish your innocence, my brother will certainly treat you as the person primarily responsible for an atrocious slander!"
"A slander—upon your father!...Me?" said the indignant Peter. "Why, I neverheardof the gentleman!"
"Denial will not serve you now," she said. "I have not only your own admissions in the music-room, but the evidence of more than one trustworthy witness, to prove that you circulated a report that my dear father—one of the most honoured and respected citizens of Melbourne—began his Colonial career as—as a transported convict!"
After all, as the hapless Peter instantly saw, hemighthave said so, for anything he knew, in one of those still unexhausted extra quarters of an hour!
"If I said so, I was misinformed," he said.
"Just so; and in our conversation on the subject, you mentioned the name of the person who used you as his mouthpiece to disseminate hismalicious venom. What I wish to know now is, whether you are prepared or not to repeat that statement?"
Peter recollected now that he had used expressions implicating Mr. Perkins, although merely as the origin of totally different complications.
"I can't positively go so far as that," he said. "I—I made the statement generally."
"As you please," she said. "I can merely say that my brother, whom I expect momentarily, is, although an invalid in some respects, a powerful and determined man; and unless you repeat in his presence the sole excuse you have to offer, he will certainly horsewhip you in the presence of the other passengers. That is all, sir!"
"Thank you—it's quite enough!" murmured Peter, thinking that Alfred himself could hardly be much more formidable; and he slipped down the companion to the cabin-saloon, where he found Miss Davenport anxiously expecting him.
"He is here," she whispered. "I have just seen him through the port-hole."
"What—the old lady's brother!" he replied.
"He hasnosister who is an old lady. I mean Alfred."
"Alfred?" he almost yelped. "Alfredhere!"
"Of course he is here. Is not his battalion quartered at Gibraltar? You knew it; we were to meet him here!"
"I didn't, indeed—or I should never have come!" he protested.
"Don't let us waste words now. He is here; he will demand an explanation from you. He has his pistol with him—I could tell by the bulge under his coat. We must both face him; and the question is, What are you going to say?"
Peter thrust his hands through his carefully-parted hair:
"Say?" he repeated. "I shall tell him the simple, straightforward truth. I shall frankly admit that we have walked, and sat, and talked together; but I shall assure him, as I can honestly, that during the whole course of our acquaintance I have never once regarded you in any other light but that of a friend."
"And you suppose that, knowing how I have changed, he will believe that!" she cried. "He will fire long before you can finish one of those fine sentences!"
"In that case," suggested Peter, "why tell him anything at all? Why not spare him, poorfellow, at all events for the time? It will only upset him just now. Let him suppose that we are strangers to one another; and you can break the truth to him gently when you reach England, you know. I 'm sure that'smuchthe more sensible plan!"
She broke into strange mirthless laughter.
"Your prudence comes too late," she said. "You forget that the truth was broken to him some days ago, in the letter I wrote from Brindisi."
"You wrote and broke it to him at Brindisi!" cried Peter. "What induced you to dothat?"
"Why,you!" she retorted. "You insisted that it was due to him; and though I knew better than you what the effect would be, I dared not tell you the whole truth. I wanted to end the engagement, too; and I scarcely cared then what consequences might follow. Now they are upon us, and it is useless to try to escape them. Since wemustdie, let us go up on deck and get it over!"
"One moment," he said; "Alfred can wait a little. I—I must go to my cabin first, and put on a clean collar."
And with this rather flimsy pretext, he again made his escape. He made up his mind what todo as he rushed towards his cabin. He could hardly have been anything like an hour on board theBoomerangas yet; he had to get through at least another three before he could hope for deliverance. His only chance was to barricade himself inside his cabin, and steadfastly refuse to come out, upon any consideration whatever, until he was released by the natural expiration of time.
He sped down the passage, and found, to his horror, that he had forgotten the number of his berth. However, he knew where it ought to be, and darted into an open door, which he fastened securely with hook and bolt, and sank breathless on one of the lower berths.
"You seem in a hurry, my friend!" said a voice opposite; and Peter's eyes, unused at first to the comparative dimness, perceived that a big man was sitting on the opposite berth, engaged in putting on a pair of spiked cricket-shoes. He had bolted himself inside the cabin with Mr. Perkins!
CHAPTER IX.Compound Interest.Back to the Fire Again.—A Magnanimous Return.—Catching at Straws.—Two Total Strangers.—Purely a Question of Precedence.—"Hemmed in" and "Surrounded."—The Last Chance.The Bank Manager looked across at Peter with an amused smile; he seemed quite friendly. Whether he was in Peter's cabin, or Peter in his, did not appear; and perhaps it was not of much consequence either way. If the cabin belonged to Mr. Perkins, he did not, at all events, appear to resent the intrusion."You seem rather put out about something," he said again, as Peter was still too short of breath for words."Oh, no," panted Peter, "it's nothing. There was so much bustle going on above, that I thought I'd come in here for a little quiet; that's all.""Well," said the Manager, "I'm glad you looked in; for, as it happens, you're the very manI wanted to see. I daresay you're wondering why I'm putting on these things?"Peter nodded his head, which was all he felt equal to."Why, I've just been having a talk with that old she-griffin from Melbourne. Perhaps you don't know that her brother is coming on board directly?""Oh yes, Ido!" said Peter."Well, it seems she means to denounce me to him as the slanderer of her father. She may, if she chooses; my conscience is perfectly clear on that score. No one can bring anything of the sort home to me; and I've no doubt I shall soon satisfy him that I'm as innocent as an unborn babe. Still, I want you, as a respectable man and the only real friend I have on board, to come with me and be my witness that you never heard such a rumour from my lips; and besides, sir, we shall have an opportunity at last of seeing the unutterable scamp who has had the barefaced impudence to say I told him this precious story! She's going to produce him, sir; and if he dares to stand me out to my face—well,he'll know why I've put on these shoes! Come along; I can't let you off."Peter dared not refuse, for fear of attracting his friend's suspicions. He could only trust to slipping away in the confusion; and so, unfastening the cabin-door, the Manager caught the unresisting Tourmalin tightly by the arm, and hurried him along the central passage and up the companion.Even Miss Davenport would have been a welcome diversion at that moment; but she was not there to intercept him, and he reached the upper deck more dead than alive."Where's that old vixennow?" exclaimed the Manager, dropping Peter's arm. "Here, just stay where you are a minute, till I find her and her confounded brother!"He bustled off, leaving Tourmalin by the davits, quite incapable of action of any kind in the presence of this new and awful dilemma. He had been spreading a cruel and unjustifiable slander against an irreproachable Colonial magnate, whose son was now at hand to demand reparation with a horsewhip. He could only propitiate him by denouncing Perkins as his informant, and if he did that he would be kicked from one end of the ship to the other with a spiked boot! This was Nemesis indeed, and it was Sophia who had insisted upon his exposing himself to it. What afool he was not to fly back to that cabin, while he could!He turned to flee, and as he did so a hand was passed softly through his arm."Notthatway, Peter!" said Miss Tyrrell's voice.A wild, faint hope came to him that he might be going to receive one of the back quarters of an hour. The caprices of the Time Cheques were such that it was quite possible he would be thrown back into an earlier interview. Little as he felt inclined for any social intercourse just then, he saw that it would afford him a brief interlude—would at least give him breathing-time before his troubles began again."I will go wherever you choose," he said; "I am in your hands.""I came," she said, "to take you to her. She is asking for you.""She?" said Peter. "For heaven's sake,who?""Why, Miss Pinceney, of course. I knew who it was directly I saw her face. Peter, is it true, as papa tells me, that I misunderstood you just now—that she isnotengaged to Alfred?""Alfred? No!" he replied. "If she is engaged to anyone at all, I have strong grounds for supposing it's to me!""Then we must submit, that is all," said Miss Tyrrell. "But we do not know her decision yet; there is still hope!""Yes," he said, "there is hope still. Let us go to her; make haste!"He meant what he said. Sophia could at least extricate him from a portion of his difficulties. Miss Tyrrell—magnanimous and unselfish girl that she was, in spite of her talent for misapprehension—was ready to resign him to a prior claim, if one was made. And Sophia was bound to claim him; for if the engagement between them had been broken off, he could not now be her husband, as he was. Even Time Cheques must recognise accomplished facts.He followed her across the ship, turning down the very passage in which he had sat through more than one cheque with Miss Davenport; and on the opposite side he found Sophia standing, with her usual composure, waiting for his arrival.She was so identically the same Sophia that he had left so lately, that he felt reassured. She, at least, could not be the dupe of all this. She had come—how, he did not trouble himself to think,—but she had come with the benevolent intention of saving him!"How do you do, my love?" he began. "I—I thought I should see you here.""You only see me here, Peter," she replied, in a voice that trembled slightly, in spite of her efforts to command it, "because I felt very strongly that it was my duty to put an end at the earliest moment to a situation which has become impossible!""I'm sure," said Peter, "it is quite time itwasput an end to—it couldn't go on like this much longer.""It shall not, if I can help it," she said. "Miss Tyrrell, pray don't go away; what I have to say concerns you too.""No; don't go away, Miss Tyrrell," added Peter, who felt the most perfect confidence in Sophia's superior wisdom, and was now persuaded that somehow it was all going to be explained. "Sir William, will you kindly step this way too? Sir William Tyrrell—Miss Pinceney. Miss Pinceney has something to tell you which will make my position thoroughly clear.""I have only to say," she said, "that your honourable and straightforward conduct, Peter, has touched me to the very heart. I feel that I am the only person to blame, for it was I whoinsisted upon your subjecting yourself to this test.""It was," said Peter. "I told you something would happen—and it has!""I would never hold you to a union from which all love on your side had fled; do not think so, Peter. And now that I see my—my rival, I confess that I could expect no other result. So, dear Miss Tyrrell, I resign him to you freely—yes, cheerfully—for, by your womanly self-abnegation you have proved yourself the worthier. Take her, Peter; you have my full consent!""My dear young lady," said the Judge, deeply affected, "this is most noble of you! Allow me to shake you by the hand.""I can't thank you, dear,dearMiss Pinceney!" sobbed his daughter. "Peter, tell her for me how we shall both bless and love her all our lives for this!"Peter's brain reeled. WasthisSophia's notion of getting him out of a difficulty?As he gazed distractedly around, his eyes became fixed and glazed with a new terror. A stalwart stranger, with a bushy red beard, was coming towards him, with a stout riding-whip in his right hand. By his side walked the Manager, from whose face all vestige of friendliness had vanished."As soon as you have quite finished your conversation with these ladies," said the Manager, with iron politeness, "this gentleman would be glad of a few moments with you; after which I shall request your attention to a little personal affair of my own. Don't let ushurryyou, you know!""I—I won't," returned Peter, flurriedly; "but I'm rather busy just now: a little later, I—I shall be delighted."As he stood there, he was aware that they had withdrawn to a bench some distance away, where they conferred with the elderly lady from Melbourne. He could feel their angry glare upon him, and it contributed to rob him of the little self-possession he had left."Sophia," he faltered piteously, "I say, this is too bad—it is, really! Youcan'tmean to leave me in such a hole as this—do let's get home at once!"Before she could make any reply to an appeal which seemed to astonish her considerably, a thin, bilious-looking man, with a face twitching with nervous excitement, a heavy black moustache, and haggard eyes, in which a red fire smouldered, appeared at the gangway and joined the group."I beg your pardon," he said, lifting his hat; "forgive me if I interrupt you, but my business is urgent—most urgent! Perhaps you could kindly inform me if there is a—a gentleman" (the word cost him a manifest struggle to pronounce)—"a gentleman on board of the name of Tourmalin? I have a little matter of business" (here his right hand stole to his breast-pocket) "to transact with him," he explained, with a sinister smile that caused Peter to give suddenly at the knees."It's that infernal Alfred!" he thought. "Now Iamdone for!""Why," said Miss Tyrrell, who was clinging affectionately to Peter's arm, "thisis Mr. Tourmalin! You can speak to him now—here, if you choose. We have no secrets from one another—have we, Peter?""I have lately learnt," said the gloomy man, "that a certain Mr. Tourmalin has stolen from me the affection of one who was all heaven and earth to me!""Then itmustbe another Mr. Tourmalin," said Miss Tyrrell, "not this one; because—surely you do not need to be told that you have no rivalry to fear from him?" she broke off, with a blush of charming embarrassment.Alfred's scowl distinctly relaxed, and Peter felt that, after all, this unfortunate misunderstanding on Miss Tyrrell's part might prove serviceable to him. Since Sophia, for reasons of her own, refused to assist him, he must accept any other help that offered itself."The best proof I can give you of my innocence," he said, "is to mention that I have the honour to be engaged to this lady."He heard a stifled shriek from behind him as he made this assertion, and the next moment Miss Davenport, who must have come up in time to catch the last words, had burst into the centre of the group."It is not true!" she cried. "Alfred, you must not believe him!""Nottrue?" exclaimed Alfred, Sophia, Miss Tyrrell, and Sir William, in the same breath."No!" said Miss Davenport; "at least, if he has really engaged himself, it is within the last few minutes, and with the chivalrous intention of shieldingme!Peter, I will not be shielded by such means. Our love is too precious to be publicly denied. I cannot suffer it; I will acknowledge it, though it costs me my life! You," she added, turning to Sophia,—"you can prove that I speakthe truth. It was to you that I confided, that day we met on deck, the story of our fatal attachment.""I really think you must be mistaken," said Sophia, coldly. "If you confided such a story to anybody, it could not have been to me; for, until a few minutes ago, I had never set foot upon this ship."How Sophia could stand there and, remembering, as she must do, her recent appropriation of the Time Cheque, tell such a downright fib as this, passed Peter's comprehension. But, as her statement was in his favour so far as it went, he knew better than to contradict it."Whether it was you or not," insisted Miss Davenport, "it is he and no one else who rendered my engagement to Alfred utterly repugnant to me! Can you look at him now, and doubt me longer?""So, Peter," said Sophia severely, "you could not even be faithful to your unfaithfulness!"Miss Tyrrell made no comment, but she dropped his arm as if it had scorched her fingers, whereupon Miss Davenport clung to it in her stead, to Peter's infinite dismay and confusion."Heisfaithful!" she cried. "It is only a mistaken sense of honour that made him apparentlyfalse. Yes, Alfred, what I wrote to you, and the postscript he added, is the simple truth. We cannot command our own hearts. Such love as I once had for you is dead—it died on the fatal day which brought him across my path. We met—we love; deal with us as you will! I would rather, ever so much rather, die with him than lose him now!"Alfred was already beginning to fumble fiercely in his breast-pocket. Peter felt the time had arrived for plain speaking; he could not submit to be butchered under a ridiculous misapprehension of this kind."Listen to me!" he said eagerly, "before you do anything rash, or you may bitterly regret it afterwards. I do assure you that I am the victim—we areallthe victims of a series of unfortunate cheques—I should say, mistakes. It's absurd to make me responsible for the irregular proceedings of a nonsensical Bank. If I had spent my time as I ought to have doneatthe time, instead of putting it out on deposit, I should never have dreamed of employing it in any kind of philandering!""That," said Sophia, "is undeniable: but you spent it as you oughtnotto have done!""Such a speech comes ill from you," he said, reproachfully, "after having expressly condoned the past; and, however I may have appeared to philander, I can conscientiously declare that my sentiments towards both of these young ladies—both, you understand—have been restricted to a respectful and—and merely friendly esteem.... Don't shoot, Alfred!... I thought that was quite understood on all sides. Only have a little more patience, Alfred, and I will undertake to convince even you that I could not for a moment have contemplated depriving you of the hand of this extremely charming and attractive lady, who willnotlet go my arm.... I—I am a married man!""Married!" shrieked Miss Davenport, cowering back."Married!" exclaimed Miss Tyrrell, as she hid her face upon her father's shoulder."Married!" shouted the Judge. "By heavens, sir, you shall account to me for this!""Married!" cried Sophia. "Oh, Peter, I wasnotprepared for this! When? Where?""When? Where?" he echoed. "You were not prepared for it? Perhaps you will ask me next who my wife is!""I shall not indeed," said Sophia, "for I have no longer the slightest curiosity on such a subject!"Peter collapsed upon the nearest bench."Sophia?" he cried hoarsely, "why keep this up any longer? Surely it is gone far enough—youcan'tpretend you don't know!"But while he spoke the words, he saw suddenly that his attempt to force her hand was hopeless: she was quite sincere in her surprise; she was the Sophia ofsix months ago, and no amount of explanation could ever make her comprehend what had happened since that time!And here Alfred broke his silence."What you have just confessed," he said, "removes my last scruple. I might, for all I can tell, have stayed my hand and spared your life upon your promise to make Maud happy; for, in spite of her treatment of me, her happiness is still my first consideration. But now you have declared that impossible,—why, as soon as I can get this revolver out of my pocket—for it has stuck in the confounded lining—I will shoot you like a rabbit!""Sir William," cried Peter, "I appeal to you! You are the representative of Law and Orderhere. He is threatening a breach of the Peace—theQueen'sPeace! I call upon you to interfere!""I am no advocate," said Sir William, with judicial calm, "for taking the law into one's own hands. I even express a hope that this gentleman will not carry out his avowed intention, at least until I have had time to withdraw, and I must not be understood to approve his action in any way. At the same time, I am distinctly of opinion that he has received sufficient provocation to excuse even such extreme measures, and that the fate he threatens will, if summary, at least be richly deserved.""I think so too," said Sophia, "though it would be painful to be compelled to witness it!""Terrible!" agreed Miss Tyrrell. "Let us hide our eyes, dear!""Stay, Alfred!" Miss Davenport implored, "have some pity! Think—with all your faults, you are a keen sportsman—you would not shoot even a rabbit sitting! Give Mr. Tourmalin a start of a few seconds—let him have a run before you fire!"All this time Alfred was still fumbling for and execrating the obstinate weapon."I decline to run!" Peter cried from his seat;he knew too well that he could not stir a limb. "Shoot me sitting, or not at all, but don't keep me waiting any longer!"His prayer seemed likely to be granted, for Alfred had at last succeeded in extricating the revolver; but before he could take aim, the Bank Manager and the Melbourne man ran in and interposed."Hold on one minute, sir," they said; "we, too, have business with the gentleman on the seat there, and you will admit that it must be concluded before yours, if it is to be settled at all. We must really ask you to postpone your little affair until we have finished. We will not keep you waiting any longer than we can help."The Judge, with an ostentatious indifference, had strolled away to the smoking-room, probably to avoid being called upon to decide so nice a point as this disputed precedence; his daughter, Miss Davenport, and Sophia had turned their backs, and, stopping their ears, were begging to be told when all was over.Alfred was struggling to free his pistol-arm, which was firmly held by the other two men, and all three were talking at once in hot and argumentative support of their claims. As for Peter,he sat and looked on, glued to his seat by terror: if he had any preference among the disputants, he rather hoped that Alfred would be the person to gain his point.All at once he saw Sophia turn round and, with her fingers still pressed to her ears, make energetic contortions of her lips, evidently for his benefit. After one or two repetitions, he made out the words she was voicelessly framing."Run for it!" he interpreted. "Quick ... while you can!"With his habitual respect for her advice, he rose and, finding that the power of motion had suddenly returned, hedidrun for it; he slipped quietly round the corner and down the passage to the other side of the ship, where he hoped to reach the saloon-entrance, and eventually regain his cabin.Unhappily for him, the grim lady from Melbourne had noted his flight and anticipated its object. Long before he got to the open doors, he saw her step out and bar the way; she had an open sunshade in her hand, which she was preparing to use as a butterfly net.He turned and fled abruptly in the opposite direction, intending to cross the bridge which ledaft to the second-class saloon deck, where he might find cover: but as he saw, on turning the corner, the Manager had already occupied the passage, Peter turned again and doubled back across the ship, making for the forecastle; but he was too late, for the Melbourne man was there before him, and cut off all hope of retreat in that quarter.There was only one thing left now: he must take to the rigging, and accordingly the next moment, scarcely knowing how he came there, he was clambering up the shrouds for dear life!Higher and higher he climbed, slipping and stumbling, and catching his unaccustomed feet in the ratlins at every step; and all the way he had a dismal conviction that as yet he had not nearly exhausted the cheque he had drawn. He must have at least another couple of hours to get through, not to mention the compound interest, which the Bank seemed characteristically enough to be paying first.Still, if he could only stay quietly up aloft till his time was up, he might escape the worst yet. Surely it was a sufficient penalty for his folly to have embroiled himself with every creature he knew; to have been chivied about the deck of an ocean steamer by three violent men, each thirstingfor his blood; and to be reduced to mount the rigging like an escaped monkey!A few more steps and he was safe at last! Just above was a huge yard, flattened on the upper surface, with a partially furled sail, behind which he could crouch unseen; his hands were almost upon it, when a bronzed and bearded face appeared above the canvas—it was one of the English crew."Beg your pardon, sir," said the man, civilly enough, "but I shall 'ave fur to trouble you to go down agin, please. Capt'in's strick orders, sir. Passengers ain't allowed to amuse theirselves climbing the rigging!""My good man!" said Peter, between his pants, "do Ilookas if I was amusing myself? I am pursued, I tell you. As an honest, good-hearted British seaman—which I am sure you are,—I entreat you to give me a hand up, and hide me: it—it may be life or death for me!"The man wavered; the desperate plight Peter was in seemed to arouse his compassion, as it well might."Icould'ide yer, I suppose, come to that," he said slowly; "but it's too late to think o' that now. Look below, sir!"Peter glanced down between his feet, and saw two swarthy Lascars climbing the rigging like cats. Lower still, he had a bird's-eye view of the deck, about which his enemies were posted in readiness for his arrival: the Manager exhibiting his spiked boots to Sir William, who shook his head in mild deprecation; the old lady brandishing her sunshade in angry denunciation, while her brother flourished his horsewhip; and Alfred stood covering him with his revolver, prepared to pick him off the instant he came within range!And Peter hung there by his hands—for his feet had slipped out of the ratlins—as helpless a target as any innocent bottle in a shooting-gallery, and the Lascars were getting nearer and nearer!He could see their bilious eyeballs, and their teeth gleaming in their dusky faces. He felt a bony hand reaching for his ankles, and then a dizziness came over him: his grip upon the coarse, tarry cordage relaxed, and, shutting his eyes, he fell—down—down—down. Would the fall never come to an end? Would he never arrive?...
Compound Interest.
Back to the Fire Again.—A Magnanimous Return.—Catching at Straws.—Two Total Strangers.—Purely a Question of Precedence.—"Hemmed in" and "Surrounded."—The Last Chance.
The Bank Manager looked across at Peter with an amused smile; he seemed quite friendly. Whether he was in Peter's cabin, or Peter in his, did not appear; and perhaps it was not of much consequence either way. If the cabin belonged to Mr. Perkins, he did not, at all events, appear to resent the intrusion.
"You seem rather put out about something," he said again, as Peter was still too short of breath for words.
"Oh, no," panted Peter, "it's nothing. There was so much bustle going on above, that I thought I'd come in here for a little quiet; that's all."
"Well," said the Manager, "I'm glad you looked in; for, as it happens, you're the very manI wanted to see. I daresay you're wondering why I'm putting on these things?"
Peter nodded his head, which was all he felt equal to.
"Why, I've just been having a talk with that old she-griffin from Melbourne. Perhaps you don't know that her brother is coming on board directly?"
"Oh yes, Ido!" said Peter.
"Well, it seems she means to denounce me to him as the slanderer of her father. She may, if she chooses; my conscience is perfectly clear on that score. No one can bring anything of the sort home to me; and I've no doubt I shall soon satisfy him that I'm as innocent as an unborn babe. Still, I want you, as a respectable man and the only real friend I have on board, to come with me and be my witness that you never heard such a rumour from my lips; and besides, sir, we shall have an opportunity at last of seeing the unutterable scamp who has had the barefaced impudence to say I told him this precious story! She's going to produce him, sir; and if he dares to stand me out to my face—well,he'll know why I've put on these shoes! Come along; I can't let you off."
Peter dared not refuse, for fear of attracting his friend's suspicions. He could only trust to slipping away in the confusion; and so, unfastening the cabin-door, the Manager caught the unresisting Tourmalin tightly by the arm, and hurried him along the central passage and up the companion.
Even Miss Davenport would have been a welcome diversion at that moment; but she was not there to intercept him, and he reached the upper deck more dead than alive.
"Where's that old vixennow?" exclaimed the Manager, dropping Peter's arm. "Here, just stay where you are a minute, till I find her and her confounded brother!"
He bustled off, leaving Tourmalin by the davits, quite incapable of action of any kind in the presence of this new and awful dilemma. He had been spreading a cruel and unjustifiable slander against an irreproachable Colonial magnate, whose son was now at hand to demand reparation with a horsewhip. He could only propitiate him by denouncing Perkins as his informant, and if he did that he would be kicked from one end of the ship to the other with a spiked boot! This was Nemesis indeed, and it was Sophia who had insisted upon his exposing himself to it. What afool he was not to fly back to that cabin, while he could!
He turned to flee, and as he did so a hand was passed softly through his arm.
"Notthatway, Peter!" said Miss Tyrrell's voice.
A wild, faint hope came to him that he might be going to receive one of the back quarters of an hour. The caprices of the Time Cheques were such that it was quite possible he would be thrown back into an earlier interview. Little as he felt inclined for any social intercourse just then, he saw that it would afford him a brief interlude—would at least give him breathing-time before his troubles began again.
"I will go wherever you choose," he said; "I am in your hands."
"I came," she said, "to take you to her. She is asking for you."
"She?" said Peter. "For heaven's sake,who?"
"Why, Miss Pinceney, of course. I knew who it was directly I saw her face. Peter, is it true, as papa tells me, that I misunderstood you just now—that she isnotengaged to Alfred?"
"Alfred? No!" he replied. "If she is engaged to anyone at all, I have strong grounds for supposing it's to me!"
"Then we must submit, that is all," said Miss Tyrrell. "But we do not know her decision yet; there is still hope!"
"Yes," he said, "there is hope still. Let us go to her; make haste!"
He meant what he said. Sophia could at least extricate him from a portion of his difficulties. Miss Tyrrell—magnanimous and unselfish girl that she was, in spite of her talent for misapprehension—was ready to resign him to a prior claim, if one was made. And Sophia was bound to claim him; for if the engagement between them had been broken off, he could not now be her husband, as he was. Even Time Cheques must recognise accomplished facts.
He followed her across the ship, turning down the very passage in which he had sat through more than one cheque with Miss Davenport; and on the opposite side he found Sophia standing, with her usual composure, waiting for his arrival.
She was so identically the same Sophia that he had left so lately, that he felt reassured. She, at least, could not be the dupe of all this. She had come—how, he did not trouble himself to think,—but she had come with the benevolent intention of saving him!
"How do you do, my love?" he began. "I—I thought I should see you here."
"You only see me here, Peter," she replied, in a voice that trembled slightly, in spite of her efforts to command it, "because I felt very strongly that it was my duty to put an end at the earliest moment to a situation which has become impossible!"
"I'm sure," said Peter, "it is quite time itwasput an end to—it couldn't go on like this much longer."
"It shall not, if I can help it," she said. "Miss Tyrrell, pray don't go away; what I have to say concerns you too."
"No; don't go away, Miss Tyrrell," added Peter, who felt the most perfect confidence in Sophia's superior wisdom, and was now persuaded that somehow it was all going to be explained. "Sir William, will you kindly step this way too? Sir William Tyrrell—Miss Pinceney. Miss Pinceney has something to tell you which will make my position thoroughly clear."
"I have only to say," she said, "that your honourable and straightforward conduct, Peter, has touched me to the very heart. I feel that I am the only person to blame, for it was I whoinsisted upon your subjecting yourself to this test."
"It was," said Peter. "I told you something would happen—and it has!"
"I would never hold you to a union from which all love on your side had fled; do not think so, Peter. And now that I see my—my rival, I confess that I could expect no other result. So, dear Miss Tyrrell, I resign him to you freely—yes, cheerfully—for, by your womanly self-abnegation you have proved yourself the worthier. Take her, Peter; you have my full consent!"
"My dear young lady," said the Judge, deeply affected, "this is most noble of you! Allow me to shake you by the hand."
"I can't thank you, dear,dearMiss Pinceney!" sobbed his daughter. "Peter, tell her for me how we shall both bless and love her all our lives for this!"
Peter's brain reeled. WasthisSophia's notion of getting him out of a difficulty?
As he gazed distractedly around, his eyes became fixed and glazed with a new terror. A stalwart stranger, with a bushy red beard, was coming towards him, with a stout riding-whip in his right hand. By his side walked the Manager, from whose face all vestige of friendliness had vanished.
"As soon as you have quite finished your conversation with these ladies," said the Manager, with iron politeness, "this gentleman would be glad of a few moments with you; after which I shall request your attention to a little personal affair of my own. Don't let ushurryyou, you know!"
"I—I won't," returned Peter, flurriedly; "but I'm rather busy just now: a little later, I—I shall be delighted."
As he stood there, he was aware that they had withdrawn to a bench some distance away, where they conferred with the elderly lady from Melbourne. He could feel their angry glare upon him, and it contributed to rob him of the little self-possession he had left.
"Sophia," he faltered piteously, "I say, this is too bad—it is, really! Youcan'tmean to leave me in such a hole as this—do let's get home at once!"
Before she could make any reply to an appeal which seemed to astonish her considerably, a thin, bilious-looking man, with a face twitching with nervous excitement, a heavy black moustache, and haggard eyes, in which a red fire smouldered, appeared at the gangway and joined the group.
"I beg your pardon," he said, lifting his hat; "forgive me if I interrupt you, but my business is urgent—most urgent! Perhaps you could kindly inform me if there is a—a gentleman" (the word cost him a manifest struggle to pronounce)—"a gentleman on board of the name of Tourmalin? I have a little matter of business" (here his right hand stole to his breast-pocket) "to transact with him," he explained, with a sinister smile that caused Peter to give suddenly at the knees.
"It's that infernal Alfred!" he thought. "Now Iamdone for!"
"Why," said Miss Tyrrell, who was clinging affectionately to Peter's arm, "thisis Mr. Tourmalin! You can speak to him now—here, if you choose. We have no secrets from one another—have we, Peter?"
"I have lately learnt," said the gloomy man, "that a certain Mr. Tourmalin has stolen from me the affection of one who was all heaven and earth to me!"
"Then itmustbe another Mr. Tourmalin," said Miss Tyrrell, "not this one; because—surely you do not need to be told that you have no rivalry to fear from him?" she broke off, with a blush of charming embarrassment.
Alfred's scowl distinctly relaxed, and Peter felt that, after all, this unfortunate misunderstanding on Miss Tyrrell's part might prove serviceable to him. Since Sophia, for reasons of her own, refused to assist him, he must accept any other help that offered itself.
"The best proof I can give you of my innocence," he said, "is to mention that I have the honour to be engaged to this lady."
He heard a stifled shriek from behind him as he made this assertion, and the next moment Miss Davenport, who must have come up in time to catch the last words, had burst into the centre of the group.
"It is not true!" she cried. "Alfred, you must not believe him!"
"Nottrue?" exclaimed Alfred, Sophia, Miss Tyrrell, and Sir William, in the same breath.
"No!" said Miss Davenport; "at least, if he has really engaged himself, it is within the last few minutes, and with the chivalrous intention of shieldingme!Peter, I will not be shielded by such means. Our love is too precious to be publicly denied. I cannot suffer it; I will acknowledge it, though it costs me my life! You," she added, turning to Sophia,—"you can prove that I speakthe truth. It was to you that I confided, that day we met on deck, the story of our fatal attachment."
"I really think you must be mistaken," said Sophia, coldly. "If you confided such a story to anybody, it could not have been to me; for, until a few minutes ago, I had never set foot upon this ship."
How Sophia could stand there and, remembering, as she must do, her recent appropriation of the Time Cheque, tell such a downright fib as this, passed Peter's comprehension. But, as her statement was in his favour so far as it went, he knew better than to contradict it.
"Whether it was you or not," insisted Miss Davenport, "it is he and no one else who rendered my engagement to Alfred utterly repugnant to me! Can you look at him now, and doubt me longer?"
"So, Peter," said Sophia severely, "you could not even be faithful to your unfaithfulness!"
Miss Tyrrell made no comment, but she dropped his arm as if it had scorched her fingers, whereupon Miss Davenport clung to it in her stead, to Peter's infinite dismay and confusion.
"Heisfaithful!" she cried. "It is only a mistaken sense of honour that made him apparentlyfalse. Yes, Alfred, what I wrote to you, and the postscript he added, is the simple truth. We cannot command our own hearts. Such love as I once had for you is dead—it died on the fatal day which brought him across my path. We met—we love; deal with us as you will! I would rather, ever so much rather, die with him than lose him now!"
Alfred was already beginning to fumble fiercely in his breast-pocket. Peter felt the time had arrived for plain speaking; he could not submit to be butchered under a ridiculous misapprehension of this kind.
"Listen to me!" he said eagerly, "before you do anything rash, or you may bitterly regret it afterwards. I do assure you that I am the victim—we areallthe victims of a series of unfortunate cheques—I should say, mistakes. It's absurd to make me responsible for the irregular proceedings of a nonsensical Bank. If I had spent my time as I ought to have doneatthe time, instead of putting it out on deposit, I should never have dreamed of employing it in any kind of philandering!"
"That," said Sophia, "is undeniable: but you spent it as you oughtnotto have done!"
"Such a speech comes ill from you," he said, reproachfully, "after having expressly condoned the past; and, however I may have appeared to philander, I can conscientiously declare that my sentiments towards both of these young ladies—both, you understand—have been restricted to a respectful and—and merely friendly esteem.... Don't shoot, Alfred!... I thought that was quite understood on all sides. Only have a little more patience, Alfred, and I will undertake to convince even you that I could not for a moment have contemplated depriving you of the hand of this extremely charming and attractive lady, who willnotlet go my arm.... I—I am a married man!"
"Married!" shrieked Miss Davenport, cowering back.
"Married!" exclaimed Miss Tyrrell, as she hid her face upon her father's shoulder.
"Married!" shouted the Judge. "By heavens, sir, you shall account to me for this!"
"Married!" cried Sophia. "Oh, Peter, I wasnotprepared for this! When? Where?"
"When? Where?" he echoed. "You were not prepared for it? Perhaps you will ask me next who my wife is!"
"I shall not indeed," said Sophia, "for I have no longer the slightest curiosity on such a subject!"
Peter collapsed upon the nearest bench.
"Sophia?" he cried hoarsely, "why keep this up any longer? Surely it is gone far enough—youcan'tpretend you don't know!"
But while he spoke the words, he saw suddenly that his attempt to force her hand was hopeless: she was quite sincere in her surprise; she was the Sophia ofsix months ago, and no amount of explanation could ever make her comprehend what had happened since that time!
And here Alfred broke his silence.
"What you have just confessed," he said, "removes my last scruple. I might, for all I can tell, have stayed my hand and spared your life upon your promise to make Maud happy; for, in spite of her treatment of me, her happiness is still my first consideration. But now you have declared that impossible,—why, as soon as I can get this revolver out of my pocket—for it has stuck in the confounded lining—I will shoot you like a rabbit!"
"Sir William," cried Peter, "I appeal to you! You are the representative of Law and Orderhere. He is threatening a breach of the Peace—theQueen'sPeace! I call upon you to interfere!"
"I am no advocate," said Sir William, with judicial calm, "for taking the law into one's own hands. I even express a hope that this gentleman will not carry out his avowed intention, at least until I have had time to withdraw, and I must not be understood to approve his action in any way. At the same time, I am distinctly of opinion that he has received sufficient provocation to excuse even such extreme measures, and that the fate he threatens will, if summary, at least be richly deserved."
"I think so too," said Sophia, "though it would be painful to be compelled to witness it!"
"Terrible!" agreed Miss Tyrrell. "Let us hide our eyes, dear!"
"Stay, Alfred!" Miss Davenport implored, "have some pity! Think—with all your faults, you are a keen sportsman—you would not shoot even a rabbit sitting! Give Mr. Tourmalin a start of a few seconds—let him have a run before you fire!"
All this time Alfred was still fumbling for and execrating the obstinate weapon.
"I decline to run!" Peter cried from his seat;he knew too well that he could not stir a limb. "Shoot me sitting, or not at all, but don't keep me waiting any longer!"
His prayer seemed likely to be granted, for Alfred had at last succeeded in extricating the revolver; but before he could take aim, the Bank Manager and the Melbourne man ran in and interposed.
"Hold on one minute, sir," they said; "we, too, have business with the gentleman on the seat there, and you will admit that it must be concluded before yours, if it is to be settled at all. We must really ask you to postpone your little affair until we have finished. We will not keep you waiting any longer than we can help."
The Judge, with an ostentatious indifference, had strolled away to the smoking-room, probably to avoid being called upon to decide so nice a point as this disputed precedence; his daughter, Miss Davenport, and Sophia had turned their backs, and, stopping their ears, were begging to be told when all was over.
Alfred was struggling to free his pistol-arm, which was firmly held by the other two men, and all three were talking at once in hot and argumentative support of their claims. As for Peter,he sat and looked on, glued to his seat by terror: if he had any preference among the disputants, he rather hoped that Alfred would be the person to gain his point.
All at once he saw Sophia turn round and, with her fingers still pressed to her ears, make energetic contortions of her lips, evidently for his benefit. After one or two repetitions, he made out the words she was voicelessly framing.
"Run for it!" he interpreted. "Quick ... while you can!"
With his habitual respect for her advice, he rose and, finding that the power of motion had suddenly returned, hedidrun for it; he slipped quietly round the corner and down the passage to the other side of the ship, where he hoped to reach the saloon-entrance, and eventually regain his cabin.
Unhappily for him, the grim lady from Melbourne had noted his flight and anticipated its object. Long before he got to the open doors, he saw her step out and bar the way; she had an open sunshade in her hand, which she was preparing to use as a butterfly net.
He turned and fled abruptly in the opposite direction, intending to cross the bridge which ledaft to the second-class saloon deck, where he might find cover: but as he saw, on turning the corner, the Manager had already occupied the passage, Peter turned again and doubled back across the ship, making for the forecastle; but he was too late, for the Melbourne man was there before him, and cut off all hope of retreat in that quarter.
There was only one thing left now: he must take to the rigging, and accordingly the next moment, scarcely knowing how he came there, he was clambering up the shrouds for dear life!
Higher and higher he climbed, slipping and stumbling, and catching his unaccustomed feet in the ratlins at every step; and all the way he had a dismal conviction that as yet he had not nearly exhausted the cheque he had drawn. He must have at least another couple of hours to get through, not to mention the compound interest, which the Bank seemed characteristically enough to be paying first.
Still, if he could only stay quietly up aloft till his time was up, he might escape the worst yet. Surely it was a sufficient penalty for his folly to have embroiled himself with every creature he knew; to have been chivied about the deck of an ocean steamer by three violent men, each thirstingfor his blood; and to be reduced to mount the rigging like an escaped monkey!
A few more steps and he was safe at last! Just above was a huge yard, flattened on the upper surface, with a partially furled sail, behind which he could crouch unseen; his hands were almost upon it, when a bronzed and bearded face appeared above the canvas—it was one of the English crew.
"Beg your pardon, sir," said the man, civilly enough, "but I shall 'ave fur to trouble you to go down agin, please. Capt'in's strick orders, sir. Passengers ain't allowed to amuse theirselves climbing the rigging!"
"My good man!" said Peter, between his pants, "do Ilookas if I was amusing myself? I am pursued, I tell you. As an honest, good-hearted British seaman—which I am sure you are,—I entreat you to give me a hand up, and hide me: it—it may be life or death for me!"
The man wavered; the desperate plight Peter was in seemed to arouse his compassion, as it well might.
"Icould'ide yer, I suppose, come to that," he said slowly; "but it's too late to think o' that now. Look below, sir!"
Peter glanced down between his feet, and saw two swarthy Lascars climbing the rigging like cats. Lower still, he had a bird's-eye view of the deck, about which his enemies were posted in readiness for his arrival: the Manager exhibiting his spiked boots to Sir William, who shook his head in mild deprecation; the old lady brandishing her sunshade in angry denunciation, while her brother flourished his horsewhip; and Alfred stood covering him with his revolver, prepared to pick him off the instant he came within range!
And Peter hung there by his hands—for his feet had slipped out of the ratlins—as helpless a target as any innocent bottle in a shooting-gallery, and the Lascars were getting nearer and nearer!
He could see their bilious eyeballs, and their teeth gleaming in their dusky faces. He felt a bony hand reaching for his ankles, and then a dizziness came over him: his grip upon the coarse, tarry cordage relaxed, and, shutting his eyes, he fell—down—down—down. Would the fall never come to an end? Would he never arrive?...
CHAPTER X.Dénoûment.At last! The shock was over; and he feebly opened his eyes once more, to find that he was undoubtedly on the deck; and, yes, the Bank Manager was standing over him with a kind of triumphant grin!"Mercy!" Peter murmured faintly. "You—you surely wouldn't kick a man when he's down!""My dear sir!" protested the Manager, "why should I wish to kick you inanyposition?"He must be fatally injured, if even the Manager had relented!"Is—is Alfred there?" asked Tourmalin, anxiously. "Keep him away, if you can!""Certainly!" said Mr. Perkins. "WhoisAlfred?""Why, the—the man with the revolver. I thought you knew!""Come, come," said the Manager, "there's no man of that kind here, I assure you. Pull yourself together, sir; you're on board theBoomerangnow!""I know," said Peter, dolefully,—"I know I am!"He shut his eyes resignedly. He was about to receive some other portion of his time-balance. If he could only hope that no fresh complications would arise! Would he meet Miss Tyrrell or Miss Davenport next, he wondered, and how would they behave?"Haven't you had sleep enough yet?" said the Manager. "You're not more than half-awake even now!""Sleep?" exclaimed Tourmalin, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Why, you don't mean to tell me I've been dreaming all this time!""I don't know about dreaming; but I can answer for your snoring. Why, you almost drowned the ship's band! I knew what would happen when youwouldhave two helpings of curry at breakfast. Worst thing to take in the world, especially if you don't walk it off! Why, you've been the joke of the whole ship for the last half-hour. I wish you could have seen yourself, with your head hanging over the arm of your chair and your mouth wide open! I thought at last it was only kind to wake you up. Those two young ladies over there have been in fits of laughter!"Peter picked up Buckle, which was lying face downwards on the deck. His own face was very red, possibly from stooping, as he inquired:"Er—whichtwo young ladies?""Can't tell you their names; but those two uncommonly nice-looking girls—one in white and navy-blue, and the darker one in pink. Dear me, I thought they would have died!"Even now they seemed to have the greatest difficulty in controlling their countenances, for happening just then to look round and catch Peter's glance of confused and still somnolent suspicion, they buried their faces in their handkerchiefs once more, in agonies of suppressed mirth.And these were the two whom his dreaming fancies had pictured as tenderly, desperately, madly devoted to him! The reality was decidedly disenchanting: they were very ordinary girls, he saw, after all."Well," said Mr. Perkins, "it's not far off tiffin time now; so, you see, you managed to get through your extra time after all!""Yes," said Peter, with a little natural embarrassment; "but I think, do you know, that, on reflection, I—Iwon'tdeposit the extrahours after all! If you will kindly take back the—the cheque-book," he added, feeling in his pockets, "and give me the form I signed, we will consider the arrangement cancelled—eh?""It's my belief," said the Manager, "that your head isn't quite clear yet; for, hang me if I know what you 're talking about! Deposit? cheque-book? form? What is it all about?"Peter coloured more furiously than before."It was the curry," he said. "I wasn't quite sure whether—but it's really too absurd to explain. I am wide-awake now, at all events!"He was awake now, and knew that no time-bargain of this monstrous kind had ever been actually effected, and all the wild events which seemed to have taken whole months to accomplish themselves, were the work of a single hour's indigestion! He was still a bachelor; still engaged to Sophia: he had still to make the acquaintance of Miss Tyrrell and Miss Davenport, and endure the ordeal of remaining for some weeks to come—to say nothing of the extra hours—exposed to the peril of their fascinations!But whatever happened now, it could not besaid, at least, that he had not received abundant warning of the consequences which might ensue from any yielding, however blameless or defensible, on his part.And Peter Tourmalin resolved that henceforth Buckle should monopolise his attention.
Dénoûment.
At last! The shock was over; and he feebly opened his eyes once more, to find that he was undoubtedly on the deck; and, yes, the Bank Manager was standing over him with a kind of triumphant grin!
"Mercy!" Peter murmured faintly. "You—you surely wouldn't kick a man when he's down!"
"My dear sir!" protested the Manager, "why should I wish to kick you inanyposition?"
He must be fatally injured, if even the Manager had relented!
"Is—is Alfred there?" asked Tourmalin, anxiously. "Keep him away, if you can!"
"Certainly!" said Mr. Perkins. "WhoisAlfred?"
"Why, the—the man with the revolver. I thought you knew!"
"Come, come," said the Manager, "there's no man of that kind here, I assure you. Pull yourself together, sir; you're on board theBoomerangnow!"
"I know," said Peter, dolefully,—"I know I am!"
He shut his eyes resignedly. He was about to receive some other portion of his time-balance. If he could only hope that no fresh complications would arise! Would he meet Miss Tyrrell or Miss Davenport next, he wondered, and how would they behave?
"Haven't you had sleep enough yet?" said the Manager. "You're not more than half-awake even now!"
"Sleep?" exclaimed Tourmalin, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Why, you don't mean to tell me I've been dreaming all this time!"
"I don't know about dreaming; but I can answer for your snoring. Why, you almost drowned the ship's band! I knew what would happen when youwouldhave two helpings of curry at breakfast. Worst thing to take in the world, especially if you don't walk it off! Why, you've been the joke of the whole ship for the last half-hour. I wish you could have seen yourself, with your head hanging over the arm of your chair and your mouth wide open! I thought at last it was only kind to wake you up. Those two young ladies over there have been in fits of laughter!"
Peter picked up Buckle, which was lying face downwards on the deck. His own face was very red, possibly from stooping, as he inquired:
"Er—whichtwo young ladies?"
"Can't tell you their names; but those two uncommonly nice-looking girls—one in white and navy-blue, and the darker one in pink. Dear me, I thought they would have died!"
Even now they seemed to have the greatest difficulty in controlling their countenances, for happening just then to look round and catch Peter's glance of confused and still somnolent suspicion, they buried their faces in their handkerchiefs once more, in agonies of suppressed mirth.
And these were the two whom his dreaming fancies had pictured as tenderly, desperately, madly devoted to him! The reality was decidedly disenchanting: they were very ordinary girls, he saw, after all.
"Well," said Mr. Perkins, "it's not far off tiffin time now; so, you see, you managed to get through your extra time after all!"
"Yes," said Peter, with a little natural embarrassment; "but I think, do you know, that, on reflection, I—Iwon'tdeposit the extrahours after all! If you will kindly take back the—the cheque-book," he added, feeling in his pockets, "and give me the form I signed, we will consider the arrangement cancelled—eh?"
"It's my belief," said the Manager, "that your head isn't quite clear yet; for, hang me if I know what you 're talking about! Deposit? cheque-book? form? What is it all about?"
Peter coloured more furiously than before.
"It was the curry," he said. "I wasn't quite sure whether—but it's really too absurd to explain. I am wide-awake now, at all events!"
He was awake now, and knew that no time-bargain of this monstrous kind had ever been actually effected, and all the wild events which seemed to have taken whole months to accomplish themselves, were the work of a single hour's indigestion! He was still a bachelor; still engaged to Sophia: he had still to make the acquaintance of Miss Tyrrell and Miss Davenport, and endure the ordeal of remaining for some weeks to come—to say nothing of the extra hours—exposed to the peril of their fascinations!
But whatever happened now, it could not besaid, at least, that he had not received abundant warning of the consequences which might ensue from any yielding, however blameless or defensible, on his part.
And Peter Tourmalin resolved that henceforth Buckle should monopolise his attention.
THE EPILOGUE.There are always a few inquiring persons who, at the conclusion of any story, insist upon being told "what happened after that." And if such a question is ever justified, it is so in the case of a narrative that, as in the present instance, ends almost at the precise moment at which it began.So it is not impossible that some readers may be sufficiently interested to wish to know the particular effect produced upon Peter Tourmalin's subsequent conduct by a vision more than usually complicated and connected.Did he receive it, for example, as a solemnly prophetic warning, and forswear all female society while on board theBoomerang?or was he rather prompted to prove its fallibility by actual experience?As to the motives which guided him, we are unable to speak with confidence, and theymust be left to be accounted for by the reader's knowledge of human nature in general, and Peter's, so far as it has been self-revealed by his unconscious imagination in these pages, in particular.But the author is in a position to state with certainty that, when Sophia and her mother met the ship, as they duly did at Gibraltar, nothing on Peter's part gave them the slightest ground for suspecting that he was on terms of even the most distant acquaintanceship with either Miss Tyrrell or Miss Davenport, and that the fact of his being far advanced in the third volume of Buckle'sHistory of Civilisationseemed to guarantee that he had employed his spare time on board the vessel both wisely and well.Nor did he get into any difficulties by circulating gossip concerning any matron from Melbourne, owing to the circumstance that there was no lady passenger who at all answered the description. She, like much else in his experiences, was purely a creation of the curry.Lastly, it may be added that Peter is now married to his Sophia, and is far happier than even he could have expected. She tempers her intellectualityout of consideration for his mental bareness; and as yet he has never found her society in the least oppressive, nor has his errant fancy wandered back in any perfidious sense to the time he spent, when freed from her supervision, on board theBoomerang.
There are always a few inquiring persons who, at the conclusion of any story, insist upon being told "what happened after that." And if such a question is ever justified, it is so in the case of a narrative that, as in the present instance, ends almost at the precise moment at which it began.
So it is not impossible that some readers may be sufficiently interested to wish to know the particular effect produced upon Peter Tourmalin's subsequent conduct by a vision more than usually complicated and connected.
Did he receive it, for example, as a solemnly prophetic warning, and forswear all female society while on board theBoomerang?or was he rather prompted to prove its fallibility by actual experience?
As to the motives which guided him, we are unable to speak with confidence, and theymust be left to be accounted for by the reader's knowledge of human nature in general, and Peter's, so far as it has been self-revealed by his unconscious imagination in these pages, in particular.
But the author is in a position to state with certainty that, when Sophia and her mother met the ship, as they duly did at Gibraltar, nothing on Peter's part gave them the slightest ground for suspecting that he was on terms of even the most distant acquaintanceship with either Miss Tyrrell or Miss Davenport, and that the fact of his being far advanced in the third volume of Buckle'sHistory of Civilisationseemed to guarantee that he had employed his spare time on board the vessel both wisely and well.
Nor did he get into any difficulties by circulating gossip concerning any matron from Melbourne, owing to the circumstance that there was no lady passenger who at all answered the description. She, like much else in his experiences, was purely a creation of the curry.
Lastly, it may be added that Peter is now married to his Sophia, and is far happier than even he could have expected. She tempers her intellectualityout of consideration for his mental bareness; and as yet he has never found her society in the least oppressive, nor has his errant fancy wandered back in any perfidious sense to the time he spent, when freed from her supervision, on board theBoomerang.