Neither Frances nor Durkin seemed to care to come on deck until the bell
by the forward gangway had rung for the last time, and the officer from
the bridge had given his last warning of: “All visitors ashore!”
Then, as the last line was cast off, and the great vessel wore slowly
out from the crowded pier, a-flutter with hands and handkerchiefs, the
two happy travelers came up from their cabin.
While the liner was swinging round in midstream, and the good-byes and
the cheering died down in the distance, the two stood side by side at
the rail, watching the City, as the mist-crowned, serrated line of the
lower town sky-scrapers drifted past them. The shrouded morning sun was
already high in the East, and through the lifting fog they could see the
River and the widening Bay, glistening and flashing in the muffled
light.
Frances took it as a good omen, and pointed it out, with a flutter of
laughing wistfulness, to her husband. Behind them, she took pains to
show him, the churned water lay all yellow and turgid and draped in fog.
“I hope it holds good,” he said, linking his arm in hers.
“We shall _make_ it hold good,” she answered valiantly, though deep down
in her heart some indefinite premonition of failure still whispered and
stirred. Yet, she tried to tell herself, if they had sinned, surely they
had been purged in fire! Surely it was not too late to shake off the
memory of that old entangled and disordered life they were leaving
behind them!
It was not so much for herself that she feared, as for her husband. He
was a man, and through his wayward manhood, she told herself, swept
tides and currents uncomprehended and uncontrolled by her weaker woman’s
heart. But she would shield him, and watch him, and, if need be, fight
for him and with him.
She looked up at his face with her studious eyes, after a little
ineloquent gesture of final resignation; and he laughed down at her, and
crushed her arm happily against his side. Then he emitted a long and
contented sigh.
“Do you know how I feel?” he said, at last, as they began to pace the
deck, side by side, and the smoke-plumed city, crowned with its halo of
purplish mist, died down behind them.
“I feel as if we were two ghosts, being transported into another life! I
feel exactly as if you and I were disembodied spirits, travelling out
through lonely space, to find a new star!”
“Yes, my beloved, I know!” she said, comprehendingly, with her habitual
little head-shake. Then she, too, gave vent to a sigh, yet a sigh not
touched with the same contentment as Durkin’s.
“Oh, my own, I’m so tired!” she murmured.
He looked down at her, knowingly, but said nothing.
Then she stopped and leaned over the rail, breathing in the buoyant salt
air. He stood close beside her, and did the same.
“It’s fresh and fine and good, isn’t it!” he cried, blinking back
through the strong sunlight where the drifting city smoke still hung
thinly on the skyline in their wake.
She did not answer him, for her thoughts, at the moment, were far away.
He looked at her quietly, where the sea-wind stirred her hair.
“Good-bye, Old World, good-bye!” she murmured at last, softly.
“Why, you’re crying!” he said, as his hand sought hers on the rail.
“Yes,” she answered, “just a little!”
And then, for some unknown reason, with her habitual sense of
guardianship, she let her arm creep about her uncomprehending husband.
From what or against what that shielding gesture was meant to guard him
he could not understand, nor would Frances explain, as, with a little
shamefaced laugh, she wiped away her tears.
“Good-bye, Old World!” he repeated, as he looked back at the widening
skyline, with a challenging finality which seemed to imply that what was
over and done with was for all time over and done with. . . .
“Good-bye!”
“Good-bye!” said the woman. But it was not a challenge. It was a prayer.
THE END
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Punctuation errors have been corrected without note. Other errors have
been corrected as noted below:
Page 5. The touch of content ==> The touch of contempt
Page 35. it drives about the open ==> its drives about the open
Page 47. what it it, Mack ==> what is it, Mack
Page 133. Your heard about the fire ==> You heard about the fire
Page 266. strength was was equally slow ==> strength was equally slow
Page 299. swept tides and and currents ==> swept tides and currents